K'deiki shifted on the woven mat she sat upon until she was fully facing K'ailia, fingers folded together, hands resting in her lap. "K'luha's influence still yet touches you, I see," she observed and then fell quiet, closing her eyes and taking a moment to breathe. There was a rattling in her chest that hadn't been there a year ago.
Enough time passed that one might think she had fallen asleep.
"I remember being young and unhappy with the decisions of the elders," she finally spoke, voice thin and crackly like old paper. Thin lips smiled. "Yes, if you can believe something, believe that that has not changed across our generations. And yet..." Another pause for a breath. "We have always trusted the elders in their decisions, trusted them with the health and security of the tribe, and I have felt the weight of that burden ever since my own returned to the aether."
K'deiki reached out with one hand, gesturing for K'ailia to come closer, seeking a more personal connection. "It has always been our responsibility, and ours alone." It was difficult to see in the shadows of the tent, lit only by a small oil lamp, but her aged eyes could make out the vague, wavering outline of her great-granddaughter. She breathed as deep as her old lungs would allow and spoke looking up at the shadow of that young face, "But this is a matter of our home, and I would not take that decision away from those to whom it matters most. Let the tribe decide, not just us old decrepits with our wandering minds yearning for nostalgia." She chuckled at that, coughed, and then smiled.
Enough time passed that one might think she had fallen asleep.
"I remember being young and unhappy with the decisions of the elders," she finally spoke, voice thin and crackly like old paper. Thin lips smiled. "Yes, if you can believe something, believe that that has not changed across our generations. And yet..." Another pause for a breath. "We have always trusted the elders in their decisions, trusted them with the health and security of the tribe, and I have felt the weight of that burden ever since my own returned to the aether."
K'deiki reached out with one hand, gesturing for K'ailia to come closer, seeking a more personal connection. "It has always been our responsibility, and ours alone." It was difficult to see in the shadows of the tent, lit only by a small oil lamp, but her aged eyes could make out the vague, wavering outline of her great-granddaughter. She breathed as deep as her old lungs would allow and spoke looking up at the shadow of that young face, "But this is a matter of our home, and I would not take that decision away from those to whom it matters most. Let the tribe decide, not just us old decrepits with our wandering minds yearning for nostalgia." She chuckled at that, coughed, and then smiled.
"Song dogs barking at the break of dawn, lightning pushes the edges of a thunderstorm; and these streets, quiet as a sleeping army, send their battered dreams to heaven."
Hipparion Tribe (Sagolii)Â - Â Antimony Jhanhi's Wiki