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Feast and Firedancing [K-tribe]


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K'deiki's voice sounded welcoming, even warm behind the doorway. It made K'mih slightly less nervous. At the warning to watch her step, she blinked and started by taking a look inside before venturing further, effectively spotting the symbols the old woman was drawing in the sand.

 

The girl took a single and careful step inside, enough to find herself in the intimacy of the elder's tents without disturbing their work. She bowed respectfully to them before she spoke, polite and a bit shy. No eye contact was made.

 

"K'ile has asked me to dance tomorrow in his place... If you approve of me for the task, I would like to request a firedancing stone."

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K'takka slid out of the darkness like a lizard from under a rock, the slits of her eyelids growing as though she were looking on the moon for the first time. She shook dirt from her claws, the single dark, disfigured finger twitching, shivering, rigid and crooked. Her thin face twisted in a smile, features cracking in half-molted layers. Her tattoos seemed to push outward upon the lines of age that clung to her skull.

 

Hunched low and weary before K'mih, K'takka's smile showed her crooked, darkened teeth. "K'mih. You needn't be so reluctant to enter. It's been so long since I've seen you! You're growing by the fulm." She reached out with her mangled hand to pull K'mih further into the tent, quick as a viper, gentle as a mother cat, weak as a brittle sapling. "Don't worry about that Tia, girl. You're the daughter of K'yohko Nunh! Ask of us, daughter, but let me see you smile."

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K'takka's words were reassuring; her smile, contagious. Albeit still shyly, K'mih smiled back at the old woman, at the warmth she was treating her with. The girl had seen the elders angry before. She knew of their unforgiving nature, and she'd always felt lucky not to be the target of their severity. They were very different with her, all kindness and smiles, for she'd never done anything wrong.

 

Yes, submission was always the best path to take. The elders, her father, K'nahli... everyone -no matter how cold or distant or severe- would continue looking at her kindly so long as she kept being a good girl.

 

"I want... my father to be proud of me tomorrow," she admitted, using the chance that he'd been mentioned. A sweet daughter who wanted to be her father's pride. There was nothing wrong with that. Nothing at all. "I'm willing to work hard to learn."

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K'deiki's hands continued to work in the sand while her withered face turned towards the girl; she could not see much of either truly, but the former she knew by heart and the latter she could smell and hear, two things that painted a far better picture of Yohko's child than any vision. Her fingers, curled and stiff light gnarled tree branches, made slow, rhythmic lines as she spoke, "Family is the truest of all motivations one might have to take up the duty of our ancestors. From family, to family. It's all that keeps us alive in this place."

 

Her bony, brittle wrist, the skin shrunken up around it, flicked and sent a spray of sand across what she had been drawing. "How are you faring, dear?" Her body shifted, settled impossibly further into the cloth that all but swaddled her. "We have seen no small amount of unrest these days."

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K'mih's eyes brightened at K'deiki's words. Family was the most important, what kept the tribe alive; that could only mean that her devotion was perfectly justified and normal. Why had K'ile told her that her mere thoughts were wrong, when they came from the very first lesson she was taught?

 

The elder's next question made her a bit nervous, for she realized they hadn't actually agreed to give her the stone. Were they having doubts? Or perhaps she was reading too much into it? She tried not to press the matter and follow their conversation. They were being kind to her, after all. She shouldn't be concerned...

 

"I'm worried about K'luha..." she replied honestly, ears dropping slightly. "Ah... Everyone is, I guess. But... if we are celebrating a feast tomorrow, it can only mean that the chance for her to recover is high... isn't it?"

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"My granddaughter will be well soon enough. She is strong, and she has the might of the tribe behind her. They will hold her up to Azeyma's gaze even when she cannot manage." The chuckle K'deiki offered turned into more of a wheeze, and she patted her chest, falling silent.

 

A hand the color and texture of ancient stone extended from the shadows then, and the lumbering body of K'jhanhi followed. Red flickered between his curled digits and then dropped until a single bead was visible, strung on thin twine. It swung from K'jhanhi's fingers like a pendulum and seemed to almost glow in the shadows of the tent. He stepped forward, extending the bracelet bound with the single bead towards K'mih. "Your heart is in the right place, child," he rumbled, and his yellow eyes seemed to catch the fire held within the bead for a split second before they were once again consumed by shadow. "Do not worry about what may come from the tia's antics. Focus on the honor of this dance. Perhaps you will learn something from our ancestors through this."

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Getting up Xha'li dusted the sand of his legs and headed off into the camp towards where the Aether had felt...off.  Arriving he found a tent with sigils scorched into its hide and bone fetishes hanging from it along with what was apparently a guard.  Walking up Xha'li inclined his head respectfully while he reigned in his own aether to prevent it from interfering with any magic being worked with and spoke softly, "I'm guessing this is the healers tent?  I came to see how the injured tribeswomen was doing and to offer my assistance as a healer if it was needed."

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The bead appeared like a guiding star, opening the girl's eyes wider. She stared at it, hypnotised, almost afraid that the elder would suddenly make it disappear again. Up until less than a bell ago, she'd never given that small stone much of a thought. Now, in a matter of minutes, it'd become something strangely important to her.

 

She extended her hands together to receive the bracelet, her gaze still on it.

 

'Your heart is in the right place, child,' she could hear K'jhanhi's voice say, and slowly, ever so slowly, a small smile timidly made its way upon her features.

 

"Thank you very much."

 

K'mih bowed down with her face hidden and her hand closed, fingers protecting a treasure that had become only hers.

 

"I will treasure this."

 

 

[...]

 

 

Outside the medical tent, K'rahto Tia stood with crossed arms. His expression was as stoic as he could manage, which translated into a perpetual unfriendly face. When the stranger approached him, he couldn't help but to scan him from head to toe, frowning. Was he actually asking to take part on K'luha's treatment? Why would he even consider such a ridiculous idea?

 

"We got a healer already, one we trust," was the Tia's cutting answer, making it clear for the stranger that he wasn't needed.

 

...Or so he thought.

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K'rahto blinked, still frowning. Well-meaning as they actually were, Li's words sounded like an insult in the Tia's head. Was that Moon miqo'te implying that K'zhumi wasn't enough to properly attend K'luha's wounds?

 

"If my sister needs help, she'll ask for it!" He raised his voice, clearly annoyed at what he perceived as an arrogant attitude. For some reason, arrogant attitudes were especially bothersome when they came from strangers and from K'nahli, and he'd gotten them from both today. "Just don't expect that to happen."

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K'takka stepped back from K'mih, and the shadows of the tent seemed to reach towards her. Dark as though light had never fallen on that part of the tent, they slid like oil down the crags of her face and over her shoulders. One shivering claw stabbed through the viscid air to point at the gem K'mih had just accepted."That stone is no mere treasure. It is the most precious thing to ever touch your hand. It is ancient, and irreplaceable. The dance is neither just a dance, nor just a ritual, do you understand?"

 

The shape of the elder drooped low among her pillows, spreading out as though she were made of sand. Except for the silver glow of her eyes and the golden fringe of the pillow she clutched to her chest, she was the color of ink. "You hold the very spirit of the tribe, and you must learn to let it inside of you. To portray it, so that it can be plainly observed. When I watch you dance, it should be the same as if I were seeing my mother dance again. As though the very first huntress of the Hipparion were guiding your hands."

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Slowly, K'mih's head rose until her worried gaze could meet the elder who spoke. As much as she thought she'd known how important the dance was, it felt like her eyes had been closed. She'd known nothing.

 

The hand which held the stone remained protectively closed, trembling slightly. Would she be able to honour her tribe and her ancestors with less than two days of preparations? If she danced and searched for her father's gaze, would she only find disgust and disappointment there?

 

Her lips parted slightly, as if wishing to speak. ‘I’ll do my best,’ she wanted to say. ‘I’ll do it right,' she wanted to believe.

 

(I can't do this...) was the true voice in her heart, paralyzing her. Finally, her only reply came a nod from her head, eyes dropping to the sand.

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Even in the twilight, the heat of the Sagolii was scorching. It beat down upon the broad and ravaged shoulders of the Nunh’s back. His bulky form sagged slightly with the weight of his injuries, leaving a strange trail of footprints in the sand as the male miq’ote attempted to move quickly.

 

K’yohko was at the head of a small train of following miqo’tes and a courel; K’hai injured but on chocobo, and K’lyhri awkwardly following behind in relative silence. Yohko moved with purpose, although his shoulder and arm hung limply and painfully. To prevent blood from giving a trail, K’yohko had pulled his shirt off and pressed it to the wounds, letting his shirt absorb the blood and become a stained crimson color.

 

As they rounded the last dune, Yohko glanced back at his daughter. His lips pressed into a pale and thin frown, his eyes narrowing at her form. His expression failed to enlighten any of his thoughts on her sudden appearance, and his head turned just as quickly as it had come.

“Take K’hai to K’zhumi’s tent.” Yohko called back towards his wayward daughter. He motioned with his good arm towards K’zhumi’s tent. To him at least, it seemed to be clearly separated from the other tents, but to K’lyhri it might look precisely the same. “I must inform the Elders.” Yohko grumbled, his voice gritty and deep with pain. With a loud whistle, he called the courel down and directed her towards the storage tent. Someone would tend to the drakes there, he was sure. And they would collect the useful things he had obtained from the Amal’jaa. But for now, he had little time to loose.

 

In a swift and powerful movement, Yohko was off. He did not run, nor jog, nor walk, but almost glided across the sands to the Elder’s tent. He ignored the strange looks, and those of concern as he stepped forward, pushing the flap to the tent inwards and stepping inside.

 

“Amal’jaa.” Yohko announced strongly, his eyes narrowing as he attempted to let them adjust to the lack of light inside. He was surprised to see K’mih inside the tent, but paid her little attention. “Scouts and Battledrakes. Off the horizon. Three Amal’jaa. Three Drakes. Dead now. And two more lost members of the family returned. K’hai and… K’lyhri.” Her name rolled strangely off his tongue and left a somewhat bitter taste in his mouth. The blood from his wounds had completely stained his shirt, and a thick drop of blood hit the sands beneath him lightly.

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Yellow eyes snapped to the nunh at his forceful entry to the tent. K'jhanhi's thin tail thudded against the sand, and opposite him K'deiki struggled to stand.

 

"Dear, you're bleeding," came the old woman's alarmed, raspy voice, her nose having caught the coppery scent more than her eyes could make out any wounds. Then she coughed, bowed forward, and wheezed, "Amal'jaa... so close...?"

 

"Sound the alarm amongst the huntresses," K'jhanhi rumbled. His eyes flicked to K'mih's cowed form briefly before letting out a sigh. "We will need to move, even if you did kill them all."

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K'mih turned her head quickly to her father, surprised at his entrance. The metallic smell of blood reached her before the sight of it did, making her eyes open wider with concern.

 

(Father... you're...)

 

No words came from her at first. She listened, staring at his injured form with both hands on her stomach, the stone hidden inside one of them. It was difficult to gauge how severe his wound was, but he was losing blood. That much was clear.

 

At the elder's command for K'yohko to sound the alarm, K'mih stepped forward.

 

"I-I will do it! Please allow me...!" She said, as determined as she was nervous. It was the only thing that could make her feel useful now. Her gaze turned to her father then, soaked in pure concern. "Father, please let K'zhumi tend to your wounds as soon as possible..."

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K'hai looked to the girl, "Stay close to me. I will be heading straight for the shaman's tent", and with that, kicked the chocobo into gear. It of course felt like it was going to bolt, but a yank on the reigns kept it under control.

 

As they neared the camp, the huntresses were already given the surprise of K'yohko's passing by them, and now, they stood dumbfounded as K'hai, a tia that had been missing for some five years now, was riding into camp, wounded with a young girl at his side.

 

He headed straight to the shamans tent, and outside, he pulled the chocobo to a halt, climbed down gripping his chest and stumbled his way towards the tent when he finally collapsed into the tents fold.

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K'lyrhi gave a blank stare at her father's word, blinking a few times. "Wait...which one's her te---oooh right." She gave a nod, trying to feign that she had an idea and wasn't just clueless. Atually coming back 'home' after so long was rather hard to take in.

 

Or rather it was too easy to take in, the campsite felt strange and foreign; much has changed her sense her absence.

 

It seemed like she was too lost in thought, as she allowed K'hai to head off without paying a visit to "K'zhumi"...

 

Strike one...

 

"Wait, Unca'! You should be getting those wounds tended to!" She calls out, trying to keep pace with him. It was when he finally collapsed at the tent entrance no sooner after K'yohko went in did she rush to his side.

 

"You can barely stand! 'Ye need treatment, even if ah have to carry you back!"

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Xha'li blinked as another male staggered into the tent in-front of him and collapsed, with another huntress hot on his heels, tilting his head sideways in confusion he called, "This is the healer's tent, though if she isn't recovered from her earlier patient I'd be glad to help."

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The fresh scent of blood overwhelmed the blue-haired girl's curiosity as it drew continuously closer, emanating from somewhere behind her and eventually compelling the girl to divert her attention away from the arrows she had been tying once more. The thick scent lingered stubbornly in the air, though something about it seemed a little odd. Not only did she not find herself reminded of her own hunger - as was normally the side effect of a successful hunt -, but she also managed to detect a few other odours that were almost totally hidden beneath that of the blood; odours that offered enough distraction to briefly stop the girl from realising what was truly confusing her - that she was actually smelling miqo'te blood. The mysterious odours smelled and even tasted vaguely familiar to the young huntress, though their faint essence remained just a little too obscure for her to identify with certainty.

 

She turned her gaze toward the nearest and therefore strongest source of the scent. Her shapely eyes immediately widened with surprise as they stolidly locked on the battered form of her father whom moved briskly across the sands towards the elders' tent. Her body seemed to stiffen in that moment as an uncomfortable sense of worry stirred within her. Though it was difficult to tell much from a distance, she studied him as best she could before he disappeared into the interior of tent. The totality of his injuries was uncertain, but at the very least she could determine that his arm was badly wounded. The tools she had been holding each created a soft impression in the saffron sands as they slipped free from her loose grip; K'nahli, decidingly now, beginning to stride toward the tent with a quickened pace. She peered back over her shoulder toward K'zhumi's tent briefly, taking a moment to confirm Li's position before looking forward once more and hurrying toward the elders' tent.

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"W-woah!"

 

K'rahto had been surprised at the sight of an oddly familiar and very injured miqo'te approaching their tent, but he was even more when said miqo'te collapsed on him. The man was taller and bulkier than him, and having that weight fall on him so suddenly made him almost lose his balance. Luckily for his pride, he managed to hold the man's unconscious body without falling himself.

 

"K'zhumi!!" He raised his voice for his sister to hear him from inside the tent, frowning deeply as he supported the weight. He really hoped his sister could take care of everyone. At the same time. And somehow, his eyes couldn't help but to glare at the stranger who'd been offering his help.

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K'zhumi's ears flicked back and forth in aggrivation. What in the seven hells was going on outside? It sounded like a bunch of old women at a stitching party. Just as she was about to give whoever it was a piece of her mind, she heard a crash and K'rahto calling for her. Whipping the tent flap back she was momentarily puzzled by several faces she didn't immediately place. The injured male and the girl looked familiar, but she didn't have time to puzzle it out now. Focusing her attention on the tia who looked almost bled white, she raised her voice over the small crowd, "You there!"pointing at Li,"Get his feet and help get him in the tent." 

 

 

K'tahjha was aware of the arguement going on outside the tent, but continued tending to her aunt. As the crash occurred and it appeared the commotion was coming inside the tent, her first instinct was to reach for her bow to protect K'luha and the healer.In the next instant the smell of blood reached her and she realized one of them was injured. Attempting to maximize room in the tent Tahj scooted up behind Luha's head to give the healer room to work.

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"Yes ma'am" Xha'li replied politely out of reflex as he he jumped to his feet and went over to the injured tia.  Stooping down he grabbed his ankles and looked towards K'rahto, "Ready when you are."  Looking at the injured tia he said in a soft tone, "Don't worry we'll be a gentle as possible getting you to where your healer can help you."

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The Tia grabbed the collapsed man's arms, ready to take him inside with the stranger's help. His expression was all kinds of unfriendly; he even avoided eye contact like he did with K'nahli when they carried K'luha. Just a moment ago, he'd told the stranger that he wasn't needed, yet Azeyma seemed to enjoy humiliating him today...

 

Careful not to trip inside the tent, K'rahto and Li managed to place the bleeding man on the ground, next to K'tahjha and K'luha. He used the chance to take a quick glance at the injured woman, trying to assess her state. She didn't look good. That was all he allowed himself to see, for he didn't want to make her uncomfortable with stares.

 

"Unless you need anything else, I'll be outside," he told his elder sister K'zhumi, serious.

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K'zhumi eyed the male's wounds in dismay, so much damage and blood loss and she still felt slightly weak from the massive effort of healing K'luha. Zhumi frowned as she heard the unfamiliar male offer his assistance, let the outsider heal in her tent? Heaving a sigh and bowing to need she nods at him, "He's lost too much blood, we need to stop it. I'll start on the chest and you take the left arm. Use whatever supplies you need, but be sparing, we can't afford to waste them."

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