The disordered scene that greeted K'ile Tia was... unexpected. There was still enough callousness in him to be surprised by the chaos that had fallen upon the Shaman's tent. He should have expected it. That the death of a daughter would so disturb the shaman, that K'piru's normally orderly tent had been thrown into a tumult; one's home is a reflection of one's mind, after all.
He brushed open the tent and leaned in. The scent of those who spent time within, of K'piru and of his brother, K'thalen Nunh, of K'piru's children and even the linger scent of K'aijeen, had a twisted and sweet smell to it that turned his stomach. It was like rot. It was like the fluid squeezed out of succulents after it had been left in the sun for days on end. It was an old smell. These emotions, this turn of events, had been waiting to show itself like a voidsent might await the new moon to arise and haunt.
"K'thalen isn't here," K'ile Tia's first observation slipped from his lips predictably. It had been a selfish wish. His nose could almost smell out the silhouette of where his brother had lain prior, comforting the shaman as was his talent. It was not a talent that K'ile Tia shared. Handing the news off to K'thalen would have been so much simpler.
"I'd thought -- hoped -- I'd find him here." The Tia stepped into the tent, saw the actions of the Shaman trying to function through the disorder. Her movements reminded her of travelers, heads ducked against the wind, lurching stubbornly through a sandstorm that others had sought shelter from. "What are you preparing?"
He brushed open the tent and leaned in. The scent of those who spent time within, of K'piru and of his brother, K'thalen Nunh, of K'piru's children and even the linger scent of K'aijeen, had a twisted and sweet smell to it that turned his stomach. It was like rot. It was like the fluid squeezed out of succulents after it had been left in the sun for days on end. It was an old smell. These emotions, this turn of events, had been waiting to show itself like a voidsent might await the new moon to arise and haunt.
"K'thalen isn't here," K'ile Tia's first observation slipped from his lips predictably. It had been a selfish wish. His nose could almost smell out the silhouette of where his brother had lain prior, comforting the shaman as was his talent. It was not a talent that K'ile Tia shared. Handing the news off to K'thalen would have been so much simpler.
"I'd thought -- hoped -- I'd find him here." The Tia stepped into the tent, saw the actions of the Shaman trying to function through the disorder. Her movements reminded her of travelers, heads ducked against the wind, lurching stubbornly through a sandstorm that others had sought shelter from. "What are you preparing?"
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