09-13-2012, 11:46 PM
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I'll drown out the shadows
by making some light
but I still can't forget
all those wrongs not made right.
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I'll drown out the shadows
by making some light
but I still can't forget
all those wrongs not made right.
The wind whispered, ever stirring here on the plataeu. Valtiere allowed the time to pass idly as others arrived, enjoying the way the eddies of air swirled his packmate's scents around him. He committed them to memory, otherwise enjoying the feel of the sun on his shoulders and the company of his packmates as he waited for more to arrive. He was continually surprised how easy it was to feel at peace here in Sangi'lak.
Through his serene jade gaze, he studied his family members. Jaden was no born nomad, he felt certain. This did not necesarily decrease Valtiere's respect for the Issum - after all he had not been born a nomad, although he often wished he had been - but it raised questions. How had Jaden come to be in his position? And if he were not originally a nomad, then who was? Valtiere had yet to meet, or even see, the Issor, whoever that might be, but someone must have founded this band, or else how did they get here? The reddish male cast his gaze around the group once more, trying to guess how many others had roots in the tradition, and how many had simply joined because the traditions of Sangi'lak appealed to them, but had yet to fully assimilate.
The grey male who arrived next interrupted his speculations. He moved almost furtively, drifting in like a cold mist. Valtiere flicked an ear in interest, noting the male's form and adornments... but before he could lose himself in more questions, the Issor arrived. She was unquestionably a nomad - trophies and ornaments decorated her form in a way so obvious and familiar that for a moment he was transported back to his first nomadic family. She looks just like them... he thought. The genuine smile that spread over Jaden's features further confirmed his hypothesis, and Val dipped his head once more, ackowledging the head of the family. The pup that trailed in at her heals did not escape his notice, either.
Another member arrived behind the lady of the pack, but it was the words of the Issor and Issum that held Val's attention now. She launched into what at first appeared to be the usual formalities, but nonetheless Valtiere listened closely, especially as she detailed the status of their neighbors. They were names unfamiliar to him, and he knew he would have to learn them. His sense of serenity dwindled as she came to the subject of the ones called Vinatta, though. Val's brow creased as a frown came to his features. So his newfound family had an enemy... the Issor's words continued, followed by the arrival of another member, and then the Issum spoke. Although Valtiere listened, their words only added to his worries.
The thought of violence brought a cold chill to him, and an icy numbness grew in the pit of his stomache at the thought of war. Luckily it seemed it had not come to that yet, but perhaps it was only a matter of time... as the grey one he'd noticed earlier asked for clarification on a technicality, Valtiere brooded on the bigger picture. He had been born to a clan of warriors, and his first experience of nomadic culture had been during a raid on their camp. They'd looted and stolen during that attack, and it had been that first glimpse that eventually brought him to return to the nomads and seek acceptance from them. They had cautiously agreed, and thus he had left behind a violent lifestyle he'd never been suited for and taken up a new way of life. His fighting skills were artless and vicious - something he preferred not to remember, a necesity of an earlier life he'd left behind.
"Yes, shepherd," he echoed hollowly, forcing his thoughts back to the present with effort. War was not yet upon them, and perhaps it would not come to such things. It was worth hoping for, at least. In the mean time, he would have to drill old skills he'd have preferred to forget... perhaps he should learn the bow, or some other weapon suited to his lean, lithe form. Certainly he could craft weapons for the family, should they need them... though he'd rather make almost anything besides instruments of bloodshed. To defend the family, not seek out fights, he reminded himself forcefully....
Word Count: 728
Form: Secui
Walk "Talk!" Think
Through his serene jade gaze, he studied his family members. Jaden was no born nomad, he felt certain. This did not necesarily decrease Valtiere's respect for the Issum - after all he had not been born a nomad, although he often wished he had been - but it raised questions. How had Jaden come to be in his position? And if he were not originally a nomad, then who was? Valtiere had yet to meet, or even see, the Issor, whoever that might be, but someone must have founded this band, or else how did they get here? The reddish male cast his gaze around the group once more, trying to guess how many others had roots in the tradition, and how many had simply joined because the traditions of Sangi'lak appealed to them, but had yet to fully assimilate.
The grey male who arrived next interrupted his speculations. He moved almost furtively, drifting in like a cold mist. Valtiere flicked an ear in interest, noting the male's form and adornments... but before he could lose himself in more questions, the Issor arrived. She was unquestionably a nomad - trophies and ornaments decorated her form in a way so obvious and familiar that for a moment he was transported back to his first nomadic family. She looks just like them... he thought. The genuine smile that spread over Jaden's features further confirmed his hypothesis, and Val dipped his head once more, ackowledging the head of the family. The pup that trailed in at her heals did not escape his notice, either.
Another member arrived behind the lady of the pack, but it was the words of the Issor and Issum that held Val's attention now. She launched into what at first appeared to be the usual formalities, but nonetheless Valtiere listened closely, especially as she detailed the status of their neighbors. They were names unfamiliar to him, and he knew he would have to learn them. His sense of serenity dwindled as she came to the subject of the ones called Vinatta, though. Val's brow creased as a frown came to his features. So his newfound family had an enemy... the Issor's words continued, followed by the arrival of another member, and then the Issum spoke. Although Valtiere listened, their words only added to his worries.
The thought of violence brought a cold chill to him, and an icy numbness grew in the pit of his stomache at the thought of war. Luckily it seemed it had not come to that yet, but perhaps it was only a matter of time... as the grey one he'd noticed earlier asked for clarification on a technicality, Valtiere brooded on the bigger picture. He had been born to a clan of warriors, and his first experience of nomadic culture had been during a raid on their camp. They'd looted and stolen during that attack, and it had been that first glimpse that eventually brought him to return to the nomads and seek acceptance from them. They had cautiously agreed, and thus he had left behind a violent lifestyle he'd never been suited for and taken up a new way of life. His fighting skills were artless and vicious - something he preferred not to remember, a necesity of an earlier life he'd left behind.
"Yes, shepherd," he echoed hollowly, forcing his thoughts back to the present with effort. War was not yet upon them, and perhaps it would not come to such things. It was worth hoping for, at least. In the mean time, he would have to drill old skills he'd have preferred to forget... perhaps he should learn the bow, or some other weapon suited to his lean, lithe form. Certainly he could craft weapons for the family, should they need them... though he'd rather make almost anything besides instruments of bloodshed. To defend the family, not seek out fights, he reminded himself forcefully....
Word Count: 728
Form: Secui
Walk "Talk!" Think