With the stink of the chocobo -- walls of avian stench eclipsing half the desert -- it was almost easy to miss the smell of the Keeper. The red-headed boy had an acrid, salty smell to him that K'ile couldn't quite place. His tired, sun-addled head shifted as he brushed the interloping chocobo aside to try and guide the two pulling his cart past them. He had to get K'luha home as soon as possible, rude travelers or no.
The hands of western traders, K'ile remember. It was the smell on the hands of the western traders, their skin splotched and dried from salt long before they'd arrived in the desert. They hauled seafood and ale from the coast to sell in Gridania and Ul'dah, rarely passing along the roads that circumnavigated the Sagolii like the water-line of a dried-up basin. More recently, K'ile had noted that scent while scouting locations for the tribe to migrate to, on the western coasts of Thanalan where ships from Limsa docked carrying food mined from the sea floor. The scent returned imagined visions to K'ile's mind, of a city in the ocean where a thousand ships docked, floating like a great vessel himself.
K'piru had said she lived in that city, and had said he might visit her there. But K'luha had said they could travel there, once, as well. She said she would take him across the ocean on a boat to see the city, her smile swelling her bronze cheeks. That offer had inspired dreams, images of a placid ocean like a mirror stretching from horizon to horizon, warm sun and humid air, a small vessel with K'luha sitting across from him. There would be amicable silence, like they kind they enjoyed after an argument but without any argument to get there: peace without conflict.
Even if K'piru lived there, Limsa might as well not exist if K'luha did not go there with him. All the more reason to get her home.
The Keeper was saying, "Who says I'm a full-blooded Keeper? K'zhuzu Tia is my father."
"If you can honestly say without shame that a Hipparion Tia is your father, then you've no business looking for the tribe." K'ile's response was thoughtless. There was not a moment of doubt that what the man said was true, for it made too much sense for K'zhuzu to breed with an outsider while wearing the name 'Tia'. Zhuzu had never been the brightest or the best-behaved.
K'airos' scent still lingered on the cart. But K'ile had ceased fearing that she no longer existed. His mind had grown tired of the fear and the worry, and it had simmered away until all that was left was a flat, sour aftertaste. K'airos might not exist. It didn't matter if he didn't get home. K'zhuzu might exist, and might have a son -- the Hipparion Tribe was isolated by blood flows beyond reason throughout the world -- but that didn't matter either. He just needed to get K'luha home.
Still.
"Listen," K'ile said, eyes, standing up, trying to look awake, "If you're better with the Chocobo than I am, jump up on there and steer us home. Tribe was here about a week ago but went east chasing water, or so the markers say. They won't be more than two days out be foot. We'll take the cart and be there by morning."
The hands of western traders, K'ile remember. It was the smell on the hands of the western traders, their skin splotched and dried from salt long before they'd arrived in the desert. They hauled seafood and ale from the coast to sell in Gridania and Ul'dah, rarely passing along the roads that circumnavigated the Sagolii like the water-line of a dried-up basin. More recently, K'ile had noted that scent while scouting locations for the tribe to migrate to, on the western coasts of Thanalan where ships from Limsa docked carrying food mined from the sea floor. The scent returned imagined visions to K'ile's mind, of a city in the ocean where a thousand ships docked, floating like a great vessel himself.
K'piru had said she lived in that city, and had said he might visit her there. But K'luha had said they could travel there, once, as well. She said she would take him across the ocean on a boat to see the city, her smile swelling her bronze cheeks. That offer had inspired dreams, images of a placid ocean like a mirror stretching from horizon to horizon, warm sun and humid air, a small vessel with K'luha sitting across from him. There would be amicable silence, like they kind they enjoyed after an argument but without any argument to get there: peace without conflict.
Even if K'piru lived there, Limsa might as well not exist if K'luha did not go there with him. All the more reason to get her home.
The Keeper was saying, "Who says I'm a full-blooded Keeper? K'zhuzu Tia is my father."
"If you can honestly say without shame that a Hipparion Tia is your father, then you've no business looking for the tribe." K'ile's response was thoughtless. There was not a moment of doubt that what the man said was true, for it made too much sense for K'zhuzu to breed with an outsider while wearing the name 'Tia'. Zhuzu had never been the brightest or the best-behaved.
K'airos' scent still lingered on the cart. But K'ile had ceased fearing that she no longer existed. His mind had grown tired of the fear and the worry, and it had simmered away until all that was left was a flat, sour aftertaste. K'airos might not exist. It didn't matter if he didn't get home. K'zhuzu might exist, and might have a son -- the Hipparion Tribe was isolated by blood flows beyond reason throughout the world -- but that didn't matter either. He just needed to get K'luha home.
Still.
"Listen," K'ile said, eyes, standing up, trying to look awake, "If you're better with the Chocobo than I am, jump up on there and steer us home. Tribe was here about a week ago but went east chasing water, or so the markers say. They won't be more than two days out be foot. We'll take the cart and be there by morning."
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