K'deiki had remained observing as the tribe tended to its wounded and its hunt for some time, features stoic and body seemingly unmovable amidst the bustle of bodies. The wind shifted direction then and with the deep breath of one hefting a great, internal weight, she turned with it to shuffle across their small encampment, towards a low, wide tent.
Inside, the thick hide of the walls muffled the chaotic sounds of daily life until they were merely a faint, persistent drone. Lamps, their light diffused by the pounded thin skin stretched about them, cast the inside of the tent in a dim yellow glow. A few decorations of historical and spiritual significance furnished the broad room, meant to remind those within of their past, present, and future. The room smelled strongly of incense, though nothing burned presently. She noted two figures already present, knelt off to one side on a few, soft furs, and moved to join them.
"K'luha's child has returned," she spoke as she lowered herself to her knees on the furs - items brought back from Ul'dah during a better time, a time when the tribe could spare two or three to travel across the desert and present items for trade in distant towns. Now, however, all focus was on survival.
Yellow eyes, which had retained the intensity of their former youth, looked up at K'deiki and then narrowed in a heavy frown. "One more mouth to feed," came the aged, masculine voice, tone carrying an underlying weight of anger. Resentment towards their current situation.
"And one more set of hands to help feed us all, K'jhanhi," the other figure spoke, head lowered and shoulders hunched in a posture both weary and crooked from age. Behind thick hair that still held a few, thin patches of the fiery red it had once been, the harsh white of intricate tattoos glared out at the room. K'takka Jihm, ever the voice of reason, did not look up directly, however, instead letting her comment linger in the air between them.
K'deiki nodded, to both of them, and let her bones settle into this new position on the ground. "We will see," she finally spoke and wove her fingers together in front of her. The three elders returned to silence then, sifting through their own thoughts on their own time. For K'deiki, this meant allowing herself a rare moment to think of a daughter lost to the tribe and grandchildren lost to the world; for K'jhanhi, it was a worry of practicality paired with fury towards the gods. As for K'takka, she chose to take this long silence with all the stoicism of one who has accepted their fate and settled her thoughts and eyes on the bright outline of the tent's door, waiting.
Inside, the thick hide of the walls muffled the chaotic sounds of daily life until they were merely a faint, persistent drone. Lamps, their light diffused by the pounded thin skin stretched about them, cast the inside of the tent in a dim yellow glow. A few decorations of historical and spiritual significance furnished the broad room, meant to remind those within of their past, present, and future. The room smelled strongly of incense, though nothing burned presently. She noted two figures already present, knelt off to one side on a few, soft furs, and moved to join them.
"K'luha's child has returned," she spoke as she lowered herself to her knees on the furs - items brought back from Ul'dah during a better time, a time when the tribe could spare two or three to travel across the desert and present items for trade in distant towns. Now, however, all focus was on survival.
Yellow eyes, which had retained the intensity of their former youth, looked up at K'deiki and then narrowed in a heavy frown. "One more mouth to feed," came the aged, masculine voice, tone carrying an underlying weight of anger. Resentment towards their current situation.
"And one more set of hands to help feed us all, K'jhanhi," the other figure spoke, head lowered and shoulders hunched in a posture both weary and crooked from age. Behind thick hair that still held a few, thin patches of the fiery red it had once been, the harsh white of intricate tattoos glared out at the room. K'takka Jihm, ever the voice of reason, did not look up directly, however, instead letting her comment linger in the air between them.
K'deiki nodded, to both of them, and let her bones settle into this new position on the ground. "We will see," she finally spoke and wove her fingers together in front of her. The three elders returned to silence then, sifting through their own thoughts on their own time. For K'deiki, this meant allowing herself a rare moment to think of a daughter lost to the tribe and grandchildren lost to the world; for K'jhanhi, it was a worry of practicality paired with fury towards the gods. As for K'takka, she chose to take this long silence with all the stoicism of one who has accepted their fate and settled her thoughts and eyes on the bright outline of the tent's door, waiting.
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"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
