He must be Great

Unatsikanogeni Adahy · 08-27-2012, 07:35 PM

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(451) I am too lazy to go and translate Cherokee word for word, so please just assume he is speaking it! (And you get sexy table; does that make him a pedo?)

Unatsi is by Nat!

It was strange to have someone he didn’t know calling specifically for him (unless the owner of the voice had been speaking of unatsi meaning snow, in which case he would have to label the individual mental because it was decidedly summer), but the man was too excited to really consider all of the implications and consequences—namely, that the person who knew his name did not know him and came with an impression of him that would be not-so-subtly ravaged in front of their eyes. No, he didn’t stop to think about that at all.

The creature that stepped into his hut was a rather petite young female, burnt orange smattered with the colors of ash. She reminded him of the Great Fire, but he dropped the connection subconsciously knowing that it was likely blasphemous. Compared to the Great Fire, she was indeed very small, but seemed to carry herself well. He offered a gracious dip of his head when she bowed to him, his tail sweeping slowly back and forth.

And then the girl spoke, and dread began to creep over the former Ayastigi. She had to be mistaken; she had to have knocked on the wrong wolf’s hut. He was no great warrior; great warriors all got themselves killed, didn’t they? He cleared his throat awkwardly, shifting his posture, his shoulders hunching up slightly as if to fight the weight of the words she’d bestowed upon him.

“I’m not a warrior anymore, child,” the ruddy-furred man said, controlling his voice with great effort, managing to tame its rambling and condition the words to sound formal as hers did. “Please—I’m only a simple farmer, and you can address me as such.” His big ears fell, spread out to the sides to give him a comically uncertain look.

The young wolf went on to offer her name, Jiya Chandraki, and explain that her uncle (apparently Aranck, the former Ookah) had told her about him. Feeling like there were stones in his gut, he tried to smile and said conversationally, “Your surname sounds familiar.” There was a small twitch in his face, the skin around his scar jumping, but he got the muscles under control and said, “My name is Unatsikanogeni—but you, uh, you already know that, sorry.” For an instant, he looked at the floor in a rather unwarriorlike manner, and then he forced himself to meet her dark green eyes. “What did—what did your uncle tell you about me?” He doubted that it was pleasant; if anything, it might be a lesson for what Jiya should not do with her life. That was about the only time his pathetic story would have any merit, after all.

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