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[raintekla]

Rain Tekla: Zeyo Atoel Part II

  It was a sleepless night, the first of many she would come to have throughout her life. Young Zeyo’s home was small, like most, herself sleeping in what might be considered a closet in Eorzea. There was no room for pacing here. Instead she just lay on a small flat mattress, holding a pillow against her chest. She had so many thoughts, so many concerns and emotions.

  Hormones. That’s what she had heard someone call it. She wasn’t a kid any more. Well, she was and she wasn’t. She was getting taller, stronger and just growing out of her adolescence. A kid, in her mind, was an androgynistic short little person. She was, as her mother had put it, ‘developing’. Blagh. And she wasn’t alone in that regard either. So, too, had Rhom grown. When they had first met, she hadn’t even noticed him. He had just been another face in the crowd, really, but that was easy enough a perspective for someone who was only six years old. To be fair, he hadn’t quite been a ‘he’ back then either. In her village, at least, children were just that, children. They all kind of looked the same, lanky tanned bodies still growing into their ears. It was common courtesy to use the singular ‘they, them, their’ to speak to kids. Zeyo, at the time, had thought herself fully capable of picking out any boys from girls, and so she had copied something an older woman had taught her to call her elder kin. ‘Sister’.

She had been proven wrong.

  To think, back then they had been so alike. They were still best friends, no doubt, but they had grown so differently. They could have been mistaken for siblings, maybe even twins at one point. Now they were just, well, different. His arms had grown, his chest had widened, his ‘baby face’ had become more angular. He was beginning to resemble more and more the pictures she had seen of the Wardens. Is that why she had kissed him? Or had it been fear of losing him? Maybe that had just been her instinctual attempt at calming him down.

Feeling down? How bout a big wet one? Panic attack? Pucker up, Buttercup!

  Two dozen times she had gone through it in her head. What had happened, why it had happened, and of course, what she was going to do about it. She had promised him that they wouldn’t take him from her, but when she had made that promise, she had no plan whatsoever. The best idea may have been to just sleep on it, get some rest and brainstorm in the morning over breakfast. Instead, she elected to just overthink things and punch her wall in frustration. 

  As morning sunlight crept through her little window, Zeyo had her plan ready. It may not have been perfect, but it certainly sounded better than exiling herself from the village. She could never leave this place, it was her home. Her friends were here, her family, her entire life. For breakfast she helped herself to a large strip of dried seasoned meat, then ran outside. Up above, a familiar hawk cried out before descending towards her, landing on a little stone perch. At that moment her mind went back to an old teacher, Vjnne. She couldn’t recall if, historically, hawks were part of the natural ecosystem, or something that had been brought to her people hundreds, maybe thousands of years ago. Rhom could have told her. He had always been the better listener.

  The hawks made for great scouting companions and messengers. This one, named Hawkje, belonged to Rhom’s family, and held a little rolled up note in it’s claws. Zeyo took the letter with one hand and stroked the feathered friend with another, her heart sinking.

[ Dear Zeyo,

     I wanted to say goodbye. You’re the best friend that anyone could ever ask for, and I love you. A Warden came to see me last night. Not just any man from the jungle either. He says he’s my sire. My father. I don’t know how to feel about that, but he tells me that he can teach me to be strong. He says we have a long way to travel, so we’re leaving at daylight. I don’t want to, but I don’t have a choice. I’m really scared, but know that I’ll always be thinking of you. It might be a very long time before we see each other again. I have too much to say, and he keeps looking at me like he’s ready to walk out in the middle of the night. I don’t want him to see me cry, so I’m trying to suck it up, but you know me. I can’t help it. Sorry.

     I wish I could have said goodbye in person, but for men, companionship and dependability is a crutch. Apparently. Love, Rhom ]

  Zeyo read the letter twice, still stroking Hawkje. Her heart began to beat faster, her respiration began to stagger and the inside of her throat felt very cold and tingly all at the same time. Before her panic could get the better of her, she steadied her breathing, swallowing her emotions and physically calming, as she had been taught to do. She had come up with a solid plan through the night, and while it was still solid, it had now changed.

--

  Sister Crjn, or as some of the li’l brats called her ‘Old Lady Crjn’, had been preparing for another sparring day for the children. Truth be told, sparring day was usually a cover. It was her ‘take it easy’ day, her recovery day. Any time she had spent the night drinking too heavily, and some mornings even, she would just tell the kids it was sparring day. In that way, she could just sit down on her ass and watch the younglings beat the hells out of one another with wooden training swords, staves, or whatever else she had decided to ‘teach them’ that day. She wasn’t particularly hung over today, at least not like she had been the day before. She was just having a ‘twofer’. Sun in and sun out she was trying to beat her head against those of the kids’, hoping to impart at least a fraction of her knowledge unto them. The stress of administering such higher learning meant that she was entitled to a few sparring days every now and then, right?

  And that had been the idea when she had rolled out of bed that morning. Get up, grab a bite to eat, get ready to call another ‘sparring day’ and then pull some kind of lesson out of her ass before class time was over. That had been the plan until she saw what was waiting for her within the training grounds. Her kids, most of them anyroad, had already beat her there, and were standing around in a circle. In the middle was a single child, hands on their hips, waiting for her. Had she slept in? She had to take another glance up at the sun. Nope, same time as usual. Everyone else had just arrived early. Trying to mask the surprise on her face, she took a breath and resumed her cool flat expression.

“Sister Crjn, I’m callin’ you out.”

  Immediately Crjn’s eyes squinted and her fists balled up. This was not a case of eager students ready to learn. This was one idiot kid looking to get their jaw broken. This was a trial. She never broke stride, pacing her way to the interior of the ring. The little brat calling her out wasn’t even of age. Zeyo was, twelve, thirteen summers old? Most of the ones who challenged her for the first time were nearer twenty. A moment of weakness caught the old veteran in her soft spot as she dug her right pinky nail into a long floppy ear. Not once had she ever allowed someone to take back their challenge, but seeing as this was her favorite student of the semester, mayhap even, well, ever.. “I must have misheard you, runt.”

  Zeyo stood her ground, tall and proud, the expression on her face quite serious. This was usually the girl who was always smiling, always playing, teasing, making jokes. This was a complete change in attitude, and Crjn knew exactly why. The little pacifist had been taken away, likely. That burned her up a little, knowing that she was responsible for preparing them. If her children failed, so too did their teacher, in Crjn’s mind anyroad. And now here Zeyo would present her with a second failure. It was disheartening, but Crjn would see the job done.

“You’re too early, summers too early. Let all of your peers gathered before you make judgement of your actions here today. You are a fool to take the trial now, but words will no longer alleviate you of your predicament. If you want to bow out, kneel now and say nothing, save yourself a few broken limbs.”

“My name is Zeyo of Atoel, I am thirteen summers old and today I challenge you for the right to become a proper woman in the eyes and respect of the village.”

  Crjn stepped outside of the ring, students with expressions a mixture of both fascination and horror parting out of her way, as if any one of them could somehow be roped into what would surely be the beating of the century. She made her way to a small wooden table, pulling back a weighted cloth to reveal a variety of weaponry.

“Choose any one single weapon to defend yourself.”

  Crjn didn’t need to reach for anything on the table as she made her way back to the inside of the ring, the kids closing in behind her to fill the gap. From her back she unsheathed a well worn albeit sturdy wooden staff. She pointed the tip forward towards Zeyo, then spit a bit of morning gravy into the dirt between them.

  Zeyo, too, reached behind her back, only with both hands. After a few seconds, she nodded to her teacher, then brought both palms forward. One remained empty, the other wore a hardened leather glove that extended and tied to the forearm. “I have selected my weapon.”

  Crjn gritted her teeth as she stared at the little shit. She was racking her brain, trying to remember Zeyo’s family history, what grades she held with each weapons category, and her survival and tactics scores. This didn’t add up. Regardless, Crjn would approach this challenge as she had each one before. She would treat her opponent as her enemy, straying only from fatal blows. There would be no held punches here, and for the audacity of challenging her at such a young age, there would most certainly be broken bones. Nodding her head in return to Zeyo, Crjn spun her staff once, it’s weight balanced and familiar in her hand. “Begin!”

--

  This was it, this was for Rhom. Zeyo exhaled, concentrating on her breathing as the much larger weapon spun her staff on the opposite end of the fighting ring. Her teacher had at least a hundred ponze on her. She was taller, stronger, had better reach, and a hundred and fifty years more experience. Still, none of that mattered at this moment. This was the only way to be with Rhom, and so she would not fail. As soon as Crjn roared out to ‘begin’, Zeyo cried out as loud as she could, “Hawkje, to me!”

  She held her arm out to the side, stiff as she could make it, knowing that should the hawk not heed her call, it was over. Crjn, for her part, took a cautious step forward, gauging Zeyo as a serious opponent. Zeyo’s nerves rattled for a moment, imagining her own brains being splattered against the dirt, her friends and family shaking their heads. Poor Zeyo, she had such potential, but she was such a dumb girl in the end.

  Weight landed on her outstretched arm in the form of the morning messenger. Zeyo had no training with animals, and had never once tried to command her friend’s bird. Perhaps it was destiny, kindred spirits, empathy or something magical. Whatever it was, the beast had come to support her.

“Hawkje, kill.”

  Purple eyes locked onto her target as she threw her arm forward while giving the command. This wasn’t Crjn any more. This was an obstacle to overcome, and something she would not survive if she didn’t give it every onze of her being. And as if the pair had been training together all their lives, the hawk flew from Zeyo’s leather gauntlet, launching like a bullet straight forward.

  Crjn’s reflexes were too slow, her staff narrowly missing the bird of prey as its talons ripped into the viera’s cheeks, tearing flesh with ease. Blood sprayed both Viera and hawk as they battled one another, the blunt end of Crjn’s staff coming back up to defend herself, knocking into Hawkje and batting him to the ground with a heartbreaking screech. Her brown skin now painted crimson, peeled like curled pencil shavings in strips on either side of her face. She swung her staff around, hoping to catch the little shit, but her target was already gone.

  As quiet as she was swift, Zeyo had made her way around to Crjn’s blindspot. As soon as the staff swung, perhaps expecting an attack from the side, Zeyo dove forward. From behind her teacher, she wrapped her arms around Crjn’s waist, kicked at the back of her leg, then pulled back using her own force in conjunction with the momentum of the staff swing. As the larger woman fell back, Zeyo spun, allowing her teacher to bite into the dirt as she pinned her to the ground.

 If the two had been the same size, Zeyo would have had her right where she wanted. Unfortunately, even on her belly, her face torn to shreds and bleeding, Crjn was far from down and out. She spun around, and using her longer arms, elbowed Zeyo in the nose. Zeyo’s grip loosened as the gang of school kids heard the morbidly satisfying crunch of broken cartilage. For Zeyo, the world went red for a few seconds, pain erupting in her face. That was nothing, however, compared to the blunt of the staff crashing against her head.

  As soon as the staff made contact, Zeyo’s vision went black, her head cracked on one side, the ground rising up to meet her other. There she laid, bleeding, her head pulsing, blood matting her hair from the point of impact. It might have been over there and then, had she not heard the sound of the hawk’s cry. Willing herself to keep going, Zeyo’s eyes opened and she stood back up, breathing through her mouth.

  In front of her, Crjn battled Hawkje once again, this time the hawk’s right talon getting stuck in the corner of the teacher’s eyelid. In a sickening display, the eyeball popped right out of its socket in a splatter of blood and tears, still hanging on and dangling, fastened to nerve endings. Whatever empathetic chord the gore struck amongst the other students, Zeyo was immune. In a ferocious scream, Crjne swung her staff down diagonally against the bird, snapping its neck in one swift vengeful maneuver. Again, Zeyo took her opportunity. As soon as the staff was used, Zeyo dipped back into close quarters, palming Crjn’s chin up with one hand, then punched her in the throat with the other.

  The muffled coughing noise the older lady made had the circle of students close in. She was gurgling, choking, yet still Zeyo didn’t stop. As Crjn went to reach for her own throat, her grip on her weapon loosened just enough to allow Zeyo, both hands now wrapped around the midsection of the staff, to pry the thing loose. Backing away from Crjn’s blindly clawing free hand, Zeyo stepped to the side, then swung the end of the staff against the back of her teacher’s head with enough force to lay her into the dirt.

  Not taking any chances, Zeyo raised the weapon above her head, something primal within her rising and manifesting as a scream. That’s when a hand stopped her staff from caving Crjn’s head in. Snarling, Zeyo’s upper lip trembled in rage, the blood pouring out of her nose now covering her teeth and filling her mouth with the taste of copper. Meeting her gaze was her own mother, holding back the attack with a single hand.

“This is over.”

  Like a rabid dog, Zeyo didn’t want to unclench from her weapon. Sound returned, something she hadn’t noticed had somehow faded away. There was a boom of cries, some astonished, some joyous. The world was dizzying to look at, the edges of her vision now black, the pain in her head now sharpened, akin to a knife wound. As her fingers let go of the staff, she reached to the wound under her hair, wincing as it burned at the touch. As she took a step, it felt as if the earth beneath her feet was moving away from her. She stumbled forward, kneeling and catching herself with a single hand reaching out to touch the ground. As she tilted her head up, black sticky bangs obscured much of her vision, but she could make out two women addressing Crjn.

“Yeah. It’s over. I win.”

  No one rejected her claim. These trials usually ended in a bloodbath one way or another. Ferocity was not just encouraged, it was necessary. While her ‘weapon’ had been unorthodox, it had not been against the rules. No one had ever challenged Crjn with a hawk, but they had been used in combat before by other villagers. In fact, Zeyo had originally planned on just using one of the wooden practice swords until Hawkje’s arrival that morning. She knew now that had she tried with any other weapon, she would have failed.

  Thinking of the bird, her eyes turned towards it’s feathered corpse, only a few short fulm away. What had she expected to happen, that it would get in a few licks then fly away home intact? She certainly didn’t know she was sentencing it to death, or she never would have used him. How would Rhom take that news? Rhom! Hawkje deserved a decent burial for its service to her, but right now Zeyo had more pressing matters.

As the crowd of children, now dotted with curious adults, circled Crjn even closer, no one seemed to notice the victor of the trial slip away. No longer a child, Zeyo was now independent and free to do as she pleased with the respect of her people. She was a woman, as much an adult as even the eldest of the villagers. And with that newly gained freedom and reverence, she fled to the jungle.

--

[raintekla]

Rain Tekla: Zeyo Atoel what was

The Quicksand.  

How many hundreds or thousands of people can come and gone through those tavern doors? The viera whipped her Moogle mask right off her face and onto the top of her hair as a waiter brought her a delicious soup. Deep purple eyes widened as she brought the bowl up to her lips, giving a small blow, before sipping without need of a spoon. Slurp. Ahh.   How many weeks had it been since she had left her Tekla sisters’ side? A few moons mayhap? Her hand went up to run through short ebony hair. For a fleeting moment something spontaneous inside her poked and prodded at her, suggesting she needed to change something. Her hair, her mask, her outfit, her identity for the twentieth time? Alchemical hair growth elixirs weren’t exactly cheap, but the stylist could certainly be worth the gil, right? Some suns she wanted to look like a mob boss. Someone in charge who smoked thick cigars and barked orders with a funny hat. Other times, she wanted to be the warrior she was back in her village. This week she was Urkel Grue, a mysterious gilionaire widow with a terrible secret, oo lala! Would this haircut last her or would she change her mind in a week? Hair, clothes, armor, weapons, decoration, this bright new world had a million things to peak her interest, so who could blame anyone for never sticking with one style for too long?

  Being silly was a huge part of her identity, but it was also her biggest defense mechanism. Everyone underestimated her, or felt sympathy for her. Such a dull silly girl, talking to nutkin and making terrible jokes. It let Rain slip right past their defenses, studying people. If only they knew what she was really capable of, who she really was.

Well, at least the soup was good here. The soup -and- the music! In the corner of the room, a male miqo’te sang a sweet old crooner’s song, “Birds flying high, you know how I feel. Sun in the sky, you know how I feel…”

  Rain’s eyes shimmered, the tavern lights illuminating the tears that had immediately sprung. As the cold buried into her chest, she swallowed and reflexively reached for her mask, sliding it back on. Usually she wore the moogle to be off putting and silly, but there was moments like this when it truly did act as a disguise. As the buzz of the barflies faded, the world began to dull and Rain muttered aloud her only thought. 

“How did that song get here?”

  Leaving her soup warm and half empty, Rain fled from the Quicksand, walking at a brisk pace towards the emptiest alleyway she could find. Ul’dah was so packed with life that it was often difficult to get a moment to yourself.

  Her boots clicking to the rhythm of a song that couldn’t have been more than a whisper by now, Rain managed to find a small nook. Turning her back to the warm stone wall, she slid down until she was sitting on the ground. In her mind the music was still going strong, and as she pulled her knees to her chest, she remembered that cute little viera boy’s face, his tone much much higher as he sang that very same song some epochs ago.

“Reeds driftin’ on by, you know how I feel. It’s a new dawn, it’s a new sun, it’s a new life… for me ...”

  A small viera girl with dark skin and even darker hair began to clap excitedly. “Wow, what a great song, sis!” Li’l Rain, then known as Zeyo, had a wide grin, being the coolest kid in Atoel in her own mind. That wasn’t a traditional greeting necessarily, but many referred to their kindred as ‘sister’.

Opposite of young Zeyo, the singing viera child had wrinkled their nose, “I am not a sis.”

Zeyo waved a hand dismissively, “Sis-TER, whatever. Us people in the ‘know’ say sis, and clearly, you aren’t.” It was playful banter, accompanied by a teasing smirk.

“No, I mean that I’m a boy.”

  Zeyo’s jaw dropped. A boy! She knew there were boys in the village, of course. She had just never met any of them. There were two, supposedly. Atoel wasn’t quite so small that everybody knew one another, yet it wasn’t large enough to hold a tonze of diversity. This kid sounded like a girl, and dressed and acted like a girl too so far as Zeyo had been concerned. Then again, she wasn’t really sure what all a boy was supposed to look or act like. The Wood Wardens rarely returned home, and the only men she had seen came from portraits. Curious, she reached out and poked the boy’s little upturned nose, “Are you sure?”

As her hand was swatted away, the boy gave a cheeky reply, “No, I’m not Sure. I’m Rhom.”

“Well, Rhom, I’m Zeyo. What kind of song was that?”

“Oh, you liked that, huh? It’s one my mom sings all the time, it’s pretty old.”

“You should sing it again.”

From that sun on they had become inseparable. Best friends forever, two peas in a pod, all that.

-

  Each village in the jungle had their own Green Word, their own laws and customs. Though many were similar, certainly all were different in either minor or even major ways. In Atoel the children were generally raised by the community at large. Unlike many western civilizations, youths weren’t very numerous. In their matriarchal society the men, who were scarcely numbered as it were, were sent to protect the jungle and thus keep the village hidden. In a people who could live up to hundreds of summers, procreating to circulate life wasn’t a very high priority. In that equation, a village might be lucky to have ten children at the same time, and while most did their part to educate the young, someone had to take on certain educational responsibilities.

  For Zeyo and Rhom, that someone was Crjn. A massive brute of a woman, Crjn was a salty no-nonsense educator. Though she might permit herself a smile here or there, Zeyo never once witnessed the woman laugh. Crjn picked kids up starting around six summers old, specializing in the physical aspects of education with the enthusiasm of a Drill Sergeant. It was a dangerous world out there, and everyone in Atoel needed to have intimate knowledge with a variety of weaponry and hunting techniques.

  Above all others, Crjn was Zeyo’s favorite teacher, and likewise, Zeyo had become the ‘favorite’ student. She could pick up any of the wooden training weapons and use them masterfully. She had strength, speed, and accuracy, everything that mattered to a warrior. When it came to sparring or any physical competition, she was undefeated. In team exercises, everyone wanted Zeyo on their team. 

  Where Zeyo fell behind were lessons in philosophy, arithmetic, and literature. Incidentally the former and latter two subjects would become much more important to her as an adult. However, as a child she hated them. Well, hated the ‘official’ philosophy lessons perhaps. Some suns, however, Rhom was as much a teacher to her as he was a friend. Through him she learned a deep love and respect for people and life. It wasn’t as if Atoel was ever disrespectful of nature, but Rhom truly truly cared for life. 

  Once when they were around seven, Zeyo had chased after a bright blue butterfly, Rhom behind her laughing. They had wandered just outside the village, something they did often ever since lessons with Crjn started up a summer prior. Rhom was a pacifist by nature, he couldn’t stand hurting people. Knowing how hard the lessons were on him, and just how uplifting the natural world was, Zeyo was constantly taking him on little adventures like this. As they followed the fluttery little insect, Zeyo gasped as it landed in a spider’s web in an attempt to get away from the bunny girl trying to catch it.

“Oh no!”

  As it struggled to free itself, the vibrations along the web awakened the spider that had been lurking in the shadows of foliage. Fearing for the butterfly’s life, Zeyo gripped her little walking stick like a baseball bat, and squashed the arachnid against the tree, her aim true as ever.

And that’s when Rhom broke down in tears. “Zeyo, why would you do that!?”

Zeyo turned around with her bright purple eyes locking onto her best friend, who was now slumped down onto his knees, crying. “Wha? No, no, it’s okay, I got the bad spider, see?”

Broken up, Rhom’s chest heaved, “You didn’t have to kill it. It had a life, Zeyo and now it’s gone, you’ve taken it. Don’t you know anything stupid?”

  Her instinct was to reach out and shove him, but she fought it. He was upset, clearly. If she let the spider live, might it not have starved to death anyways? Besides, it was -just- a spider. Instead of asking her questions, she simply walked over and hugged her friend. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t do that.”

“Okay, I won’t.”

“Promise me. We only kill what we need, when we have to, that’s what mother says. Even then, it should be with respect and love. The spider could have lived.”

And as he cried into her, his pain became hers. It was a lesson she would carry with her always, though not a rule she would always follow.

Summers passed and the two grew closer and closer, but they wouldn’t stay kids for long.

  One sun, when the pair were around twelve summers old, Rhom had went missing. Zeyo hadn’t thought anything about it during her lessons. He had missed out before due to illness, she would just have to visit him at his home after. Fortunately for her, it was a sparring session, and so the sun seemed to pass faster. Mean stiff wonderful Lady Crjn had given them quite the workout, and when the class was over, she asked for Zeyo to stay behind.

“Rhom didn’t show up for class today.”

Zeyo just kind of nodded her head, always respectfully quiet in Crjn’s presence.

“Do you know where he is?”

Frowning, she shook her head, “No ma’am. I thought he was sick.”

Crjn stared down at the young girl, her eyes squinting into brown beady little things. “He best hope I don’t find him before his mother does.”

  And that was all that needed to be said, so far as Crjn was concerned. The veteran fighter and educator turned her back to her pupil, a slight smirk on her face.  Children needed a regular healthy dose of fear to keep in line. Little Rhom, the worst student Crjn had ever taught, would not miss the next sun’s lesson. She was confident that Zeyo would make sure of that.

  And she was right, naturally. As soon as Zeyo was dismissed she ran to find Rhom. Checking the first dozen ‘usual’ spots, she felt a growing gnaw in her stomach as each location showed no sign of the boy. Eventually she moved onto irregular play places, and eventually took a chance and headed outside the village proper.

  She found him in the exact spot she had killed that spider five summers before. This time it was Rhom who was hidden in the brush. Ignoring the churning of her stomach, Zeyo tried to keep up her friendly playful attitude, “Hey Rhom, been lookin’ all over for you. I guess you’re hiding out from Old Crjn, huh? You know she’s gonna give you another thrashing when you get back, right?” Several times their educator had tried to ‘beat some sense’ into Rhom. Never had it worked.

The boy kept his face tucked into his knees, pulling at his shins as he shrank into himself. “Go away.”

  Zeyo’s stomach knotted even tighter. Something was going on. Even when they fought he had never told her to simply get lost. For a moment she just stood there, staring down at him, chewing on her lower lip. She wasn’t sure what to do or say. Should she poke at him more, try to make him smile? She could certainly make a silly face or try out a silly voice. That always cheered him up. Or perhaps should she take offense? Should she just beat it like he asked? Instead she elected to just stand there, frowning and saying nothing. Averting her eyes from her downtrodden friend, she looked around the area, suddenly ‘fascinated’ with the leaves of the trees. It was an especially hot sun and already her skin had a slight glistening of sweat. Birds were chirping, Opo opos were hooting and hollering in the distance, and gnats were buzzing about in close proximity. Ugh. Zeyo swatted at the tiny cloud of bugs until they left her alone.

“Sorry.” His voice was quieter, still clearly upset, “I just.. They’ll be here tomorrow, you know.”

  They? Zeyo couldn’t help but grin. The Wardens, the protectors, guardians of the jungle. Fathers, mentors, warriors. She had never seen one before, and the thought filled her with a bubbling anticipation. This was gonna be great!

“I’m leaving. Just like my sister did. Maybe I’ll even find her.”

  Zeyo frowned. Rhom’s sister had left the village before he had even been born, maybe thirty summers ago or so? Many more had left since that time. It wasn’t something celebrated within Atoel, or anywhere that she knew of. People wanted to venture out into the great unknown, abandoning everything they knew and loved just for a shot at what? Exploration? And of course, once you left the village, you were never welcomed back. You were an outsider, as prone to being struck through the heart via arrow as any other threat would. Why would Rhom want that for himself, to be away from her, Zeyo, who needed him here? Again she swallowed her instincts, wanting nothing more than to cry out, ‘But we’re best friends!’. Instead she just sat down next to him and draped an arm over his shoulder.

“Zeyo, you could come with me. We could leave together!”

  She frowned, “You know I can’t do that. Maybe in a few summers, after I pass the test..” The Test. Rhom didn’t need to ask which one, no child would. It was, in Atoel anyroad, when a girl became a woman. Usually a girl took it around twenty summers old, some as young as fifteen. They would fight Crjn, using any single weapon they wanted. They didn’t necessarily have to win to pass, but it was likely the hardest trial they would ever have to overcome. Failure meant humiliation, a mark on them for the rest of their lives. They could try again after a summer, sure, but they would forever be remembered for their impatience and ineptitude. However, this wasn’t necessarily true for everyone in the village. There were many who never passed their test, they simply weren’t fighters. They would prove themselves in other ways down the line, but there was always a reverence saved for those who excelled.

“I’m not going to make it, Zeyo. I don’t wanna go. I hate this, and even if I did, I wouldn’t be me anymore.”

  He looked up at her for the first time that sun, eyes red and swollen. He was scared for his life in a very literal sense. He was a boy, and the men returning to the village meant that he would be taken out for his own ‘test’. He would learn from a Warden. Learn to be a better hunter, learn to live alone, and most importantly, learn to kill. Looking at him, understanding dawning on her, Zeyo gritted her teeth and hugged him close. No, he wouldn’t make it. Not little pacifist Rhom who wouldn’t hurt a butterfly.. Nor a spider. 

“We could run away together and.. You know, that way we could still be together.”

  That was another thing she hadn’t put too much emphasis on. Tomorrow her best friend would be gone, likely removed from her for longer than they had known one another. Culturally she had become more than a little desensitized to the situation, certainly. The distance betwixt two bodies did not indicate the distance twixt two souls. It was possible to love someone for a hundred summers, let live malms apart and have only met a dozen times. Regardless, that growing pit of despair in her stomach bit at her, her selfishness taking over. No, she would not lose him.

“Zeyo?”

  Her own eyes were watering as he turned to face her. Putting on a brave smile, she stroked his cheek, “They’ll never take you away from me, Rhom, I promise. It will be okay, -you- will be okay. You’re a lot stronger than you give yourself credit.”

  As he leaned forward, their foreheads touched, the warmth of the jungle nothing compared to the burning in their cheeks. Her throat closed, butterflies, as it always came down to butterflies somehow, swarmed within her gut. Then she ventured forward and touched her lips to his, for the first and hopefully not last time. He returned the gesture, his lips parting awkwardly. Neither of them knew how to do this, and while it wasn’t quite what either expected, neither cared. They awkwardly pulled back, shuffling, Zeyo brushing the bangs from her eyes.

Rhom sighed, his eyes somehow seeming twice their usual size, shimmering as he stared at her. “Okay.”

And that was all either of them said as they just hugged one another, cuddled together in the brushes, hidden in the jungle away from prying eyes.

[raintekla]

 Rain art. :)