Daylight Dancer

[Cearia Tserta]

OOC - this is an open thread so please join if you like


Many blessings had been bestowed to the people of the Undead Fires - united by the common goal of survival, the clan had prospered with perseverance as the favored chosen of the gods. They were slowly thriving as a people - bellies were no longer hungry, some were even large with child. Livestock slowly grew in number as more verne were herded, Beast Riders continued to train rancors - bonding together and rotating as part of the sentries that guarded the sacred lands of the clan.

All of that devoted work allowed the few children that survived to play.

"Daca no fair! I got you!" Jadis, all of seven rotations, puffed out her chest defiantly towards her companion with a sword, a branch with twine holding the hilt together. She wiped at her face, which was no longer gaunt from lack of food. "I felt it hit you!"

Daca was two rotations older and had a considerable height advantaged for her age. She shrugged with disagreement, awkwardly trying to twirl her spear, its tip made from rough bark to not elicit any real damage.

She ended up loosening her grip on the pole, the end bopping the top of her head. "Ow!"

Her face coiled together in pain, rubbing the throbbing that started. Another bruise to explain to the sisters watching over the orphans while Jadis laughed. The majority of the children's parents had died during the great cataclysm. Jadis and Daca were not the exception.

Sharp whistling caught both girls attention and looked up to see a smug Lantess firing off pretend arrows at them. "Ah ha! Got you both!!"

Both girls glared at the night boy, displeasure lining their smudged faces that he got the jump on them. Their little bodies stiffened before they looked to one another. Unspoken understanding passed between the young ones.

Lantess knew exactly what those looks meant. "Uh oh!"

Tiny as their voices may be, Daca and Jadis cried out, trying to mimic the ones used among the hunters. Their attempt sounded like a dying bolma, but they charged at him, weapons raised high.

The three of them ran wildly through the encampment, dodging adults and weaving around large legs - Lantess laughing as the girls jeered with promises of capturing their prey. To gain some distance from them he vaulted over a wagon, knocking over a line of salted burra fish. Exasperated mutterings of displeasure slowly disappeared behind them as the trio raced further away.

"SORRY!" was all they offered to appease the older night sister.

As the ground began to incline the closer they moved towards the caves, it made it harder for little legs to climb the slope. This challenge would not deter the girls for they would never admit defeat to a little night boy. With huffs and puffs they ascended, wanting to get a better vantage over him with the high ground but were surprised to see Lantess hiding among the bushes, happy to see them.

He pressed his finger to his lips and with the other, pointed towards a woman that was well known to this trio. Cearia, lead hunter for the clan and bound to Mother Anjali, never wanted to play with them. Everyone else in the clan would participate - either to teach or play - bringing some joy that elicited fond memories when the clans were full of children. Regardless of how the clans differed in raising them, they cared deeply for the next generation that would uphold the values of their people.

Now these three were the future of the Undead Fires and they were the children to all.

They were also constantly disappointed that one of the night sisters who had so much to teach, ignored them every ... single ... time.

Lantess waved them down, wanting his friends to join him. Daca and Jadis slowly crept down and smooshed against him as there wasn't enough cover. Huddled together, they watched Sister Cearia converse with a night brother.

"Why even try?" Jadis asked. "She never wants to play."

Lantess shrugged. "So?"

"So? Let's go. She's no fun," she pouted, as that should be enough to end the conversation.

"Bah. This will work."

"You said that last time," countered Daca. "And she ignored you."

"She kicked dirt at me."

"Which just happened as she walked by!"

"Shh!" he hissed, then grinned brightly with confidence. "Trust me. This will work..."




Cearia was with Enjo, going over supply needs for the clan - food stores, water supplies, materials for clothing. It was through intense labors that the Undead Fires hunters allowed minds to be eased and focused on living and thriving - not worry where supplies would come from. The hunters came and went on long ventures to keep that stability. Thankfully the gods had blessed them with more verne and the breeding efforts were underway. This cycle of their mating season was almost over and she was concerned that nothing would come of it. She was mindful that even beasts had to acclimate to a new way of life, being scattered across a damaged land. The cataclysm was felt by every living thing and adjustments had to be endured by all.

"Keep me updated on the mating endeavors, Enjo. Hopefully the gods will have blessed us with success."

"By the grace of the gods, I hope so," agreed the night brother.

Enjo was also blessed by the gods. After incurring the Clan Mother's wrath several moons back for speaking out of turn, Cearia had argued on his behalf that his skills were needed with the herd. He had a way with the animals and she trusted him while she was away on hunting parties. Anjali had agreed, but her suspicions towards the night brother had only tempered partially after she had sensed his interest in Cearia back then was now extinguished since the two women took their oaths.

"Hm." Her response appeared to be for Enjo, and the night brother had thought it too, but it was really for the trio of troublemakers that were attempting to sneak up on Cearia. They moved along the grass like a pack of rancors, barely hiding their small bodies on the land. They had so much to learn.

"The hunting party will return soon. Take a small group to meet them and help break down the game. Bring water and fruit in welcome."

"As you command, Sister Cearia." Enjo bowed respectfully before taking his leave.

Cearia watched him go, acting unawares that another hunting party was about to attack.

"YAAAAA!"

"GRRAAAH!"

"AAEEIIII!"

Daca sprung into view from the bushes, brandishing her spear and jabbing it towards Cearia threateningly. Jadis jumped off the incline, slipping onto her rear, before scrambling back up. She swung her sword and bared her teeth. With a flourish, Lantess rolled along the ground, planting a knee and a boot to steady himself as he unleashed pretend arrow after pretend arrow at Cearia. Daca and Jadis were set with having fun, even as they knew the huntress was about to walk off and ignore them once again. Lantess still hoped differently.

Then the unthinkable happened. Cearia gasped, clutching her chest with a hand. Her eyes were widened, full of shock, as she tried to say something but her voice only crackled. Then ... she slumped to the ground and didn't move.

Jadis was stunned, body froze with disbelief. Lantess lowered his bow arm, unsure what just happened.

Daca was the first to say something. "WE KILLED HER!"

Lantess rolled his eyes. "We didn't kill her."

"How can you be sure?! She never plays! What if we scared her to death?!"

"Because it makes no sense. No one dies like that."

Daca crouched on all fours and shuffled along the ground closer to Cearia. She extended the spear and lightly poked Cearia's side, hoping to get some sort of response. Nothing happened.

"We're in so much trouble, Lantess! She's Mother Anjali's chosen!" Daca's voice was becoming shrill, panicked, as the reality of what was happening settled in.

Jadis stayed away for now, paled face as she watched the cave's entrance for the Clan Mother to arrive at any moment and hand down punishment for killing her mate.

"Ugh." Frustrated, Lantess shuffled closer too, looking long and hard at Cearia from boots to face with a stern expression but his eyes betrayed doubt.

"See!" Daca saw his face was just as concerned as hers. "She's not breathing!"

Lantess wanted to argue that she was wrong, but the huntress lay there as still as a log. Not once did her chest move.

"I ... I don't know. There has to be something that happened."

"Yes... we scared her to DEATH! YOU'RE NOT LISTEN - ..."

"GRAAAHHHHHGGGHHHH!"

Cearia suddenly shot up, arms and legs flailing, as she sent the lot of them into a screaming frenzy. Little legs and arms scrambled to get their bodies moving, completely taken aback that she fooled them ... and was laughing!

"Gotcha!" She grabbed onto Daca's leg, pulling her along the ground and into her arms. "Where do you think you're going?"

Daca blinked and saw nothing but amusement in Cearia's eyes. This confused her, but the two shared a smile.

"Your approach needs work. Stay low. Watch your footing. You must become the ground." Daca, wide eyed, nodded to what was said, excited she was getting advice.

Lantess and Jadis peered around a bush, then ducked down when the hunter's attention turned towards them. "You three will make a good hunting party someday if you heed my words."

"Really?" asked Daca, now sitting on Cearia's lap.

"Yes. I've always thought so. But you need to practice. More on being quiet. And hiding. Not so much with the jumping and running and yelling. Those things tend to scare the animals off."

All three of them laughed or chuckled, which coaxed Lantess and Jadis out of hiding. They gazed upon the huntress with new eyes, thrilled that all this time she had noticed them.

"May I see that?" Cearia asked, looking to Daca's spear.

She handed it over and watched the hunter tighten the wooden arrowhead that had come loose. "Here you go. All fixed."

Daca beamed as she took it back.

"Now go on. You three have others to terrorize," she said firmly, leaving no doubt the children had to disperse. She picked Daca up, helping her to her feet, watching as she rejoined her friends. They gave her one more look that was a mix of awe perplexity as to what happened here before running off, leaving the hunter to her memories as she sat there.

She was once like them - causing mischief and many a ruckus with the Red Hills Clan. Elders berated her for running through the trade areas, Wardens shoving her to the ground, forcing her to grow in strength until she was the one knocking them down in combat. With who she was now to the clan, it was her duty, and honor, to pass that along to the children.

[Kavan Siron]

The last week had been a blur to Kavan. The mere notion he was still alive, even though he felt he was run over by a platoon of heavy-armed enemy soldiers everyday, was mind-blowing given what had happened. He knew that if he didn't fight to stay alive and prove his worth, he would only ever be a slave. He wasn't even an official nightbrother yet, as far as he had understood. Tristan spoke Basic; and had been helpful but the former soldier had also quickly understood that learning by doing and surviving was the crucial part. He had been sent to work with some of them, doing menial but heavy tasks around the settlement.

He had slept outside, even in the rain and thunderstorm. He had been able to keep the clothes he had on his back when crashing on Dathomir - except his jacket. It had been on the spider witch's back since she had captured him. He had felt so angry about not having any of his weapons left, although he knew that it was part of the whole thing. He'd have to make do with what he could.

And he had.

In between tasks, even though he had understood that he wasn't to scamper of by himself, he had managed to start working on a spear. Survival had been something drilled into him at the academy, and it had come in handy during certain hell missions with his former comrades. It wasn't much and he hoped that maybe at some point the spider warrior would return his knife to him, but somehow he doubted it. He might have to make a new one. He had seen many witches and several night brothers have weapons.

As he was returning from transporting heavy logs from the edge of the woods to the caves, he caught sight of some of the children around one of the witches who soon scared them and then talked to them. Observing from afar, he recognized her as the leader's wife. While he hadn't properly attended the ceremony, he had watched from a distance.

When she suddenly looked into his direction, he averted his gaze. While not all witches seemed ready to kill him, most did. He knew that he belonged to the spider warrior. He didn't like the concept, but really, it was his saving grace, besides working his ass off to make a place for himself, and also learn the damn language. Hell, he still didn't know the name of his captor, for he had never been told, and asking her a directly had never seen a good idea, although he remembered her spider's name, Empusa.

[Spark Vallen]

Spark didn't speak the language, but the tone and gestures were clear enough. Now, he had to recover and clean the burra fish that the children had sent sailing when they'd come charging through. Already stressed, exhausted, and plauged by a constant headache in his new reality, now he had to deal with salted fish and find a way to clean and ensure they were still edible. Blue eyes glared in the direction of the trio with their insincere, "SORRY!"

Damn kids.

He sighed, then bent down and started gathering up the fish. The salt stung his cracked palms and he awkwardly gathered them against his chest. He sighed again, knowing that his tunic would reek of fish and brine now, and having the opportunity to clean that up was unlikely. Trying to hurry under the elder Nightsister's watchful eye, Spark cursed as the fish slid out of his grip. He ended up juggling several in the air while trying to keep them from falling again, his acrobatics and panicked expression drawing further attention and a brief audience. Face burning with embarrassment, as quick as he could, Vallen cleaned and resettled the fish, praying that the damned kids wouldn't come back through and ruin his work.

What I wouldn't give for a cuppa caf...

The Moo-Joo Express, a blue milk cargo hauler on which Spark was a crew member, had ended up at Dathomir when a mechanical failure yanked it out of hyperspace. He'd had no idea what had gone wrong, but only knew he'd thrown himself into an escape pod and had jettison mere seconds before the hauler had exploded. The pod made landfall and had caught the attention of the Clan of the Undead Fires, and Spark's worst nightmare had been realized: he'd been stranded on a world that had no stimcaf... and, he'd been co-opted into slavery as well. When the blue milk distributor learned what had happened to The Moo-Joo Express, Spark realized that it would be assumed he had perished with the rest of the crew; no one would come looking for the stocky blond Corellian on the planet's surface.

And so, here he was, juggling burra fish and trying to figure out how to survive in this hostile rancor-filled environment.

[Cearia Tserta]

The children were scampering through the settlement with joy! They felt touched by the gods that Sister Cearia played and taught them - offering praise that someday they could be hunters like her.

"See! I told you it'd work!" Lantess was smug, entirely convinced that it was his plan that stirred Cearia's compassionate side to finally acknowledge them.

Daca was too enamored with her spear to care about his ramblings. She was studying how the twine was wrapped around her spear tip, wondering how long it would take her to replicate it. That left Jadis to keep the night boy's head from swelling too large or fear it would cast him up into the heavens.

She didn't necessarily believe that to be a bad thing.

"She wanted to. Finally. Had nothing to do with your plan."

"Bah!" Lantess led the trio back the way they came, giddy to tell the other night boys his adventures today. No night girl was going to take the moment away from him, but he would not be reckless and rub his good fortune in Jadis' face. They may be all children, but Lantess knew his place here, even if night boys and girls could play with one another.

"Oh look!" Daca pointed to the tall, fair haired, man that wore strange clothing. He fell from the stars and now belonged to the clan. Some of the clanmembers had made armor and shields from the strange house he had landed in. "Sister Ibis is still barking at the skai man. He moves too slow."

All three of them watched him work, lugging line and wood as Ibis explained with grandiose and over the top gestures how the man should set up a smoke pit.

"I don't think he gets it," mused Jadis, watching the blonde man look blankly at the elder night sister. "Do skai people's brains work the same as ours?"

Lantess shrugged. "I dunno. Maybe? He looks kinda like the brothers. Tho his eyes seem ... dimmer despite being the color of the clear sky."

"Maybe we should bet how long it takes him to figure out he needs to dig a hole first?"

Immediately Lantess agreed. "I'm in."

"Me too!" squealed Daca.

"Winner does morning chores?" suggested Jadis. Depending on who won that meant the others had to do laundry, sew, or prepare skins for blankets.

"Deal!" shouted Lantess and Daca in agreement.


***


Cearia heeded how one of the skai men had watched her with the children. She knew the dark haired one belong to Khthonia. The night spider sister had taken this one from his wreckage, wearing his jacket in declaration of that claim. For now, like the other skai man, they worked as slaves until they proved they could walk among the night brothers and earn more noble tasks, perhaps being selected for breeding or even become mates.

She wondered how much longer he was going to just stand there holding the harness to the sled he was hauling. It wasn't going to fill itself with supplies, but it wasn't her concern. He would be punished if he dallied too long and ended up being late with his pick up. Cearia may have a different view on the night brothers and male slaves because of how she was raised with the Red Hills, but the hunter had no sympathy for laziness.

Pushing herself up off the ground, she dusted her pants and long coat clean, even prying a piece of mud that had caked on. The dark haired skai man had started walking by the time she was done but that wasn't why he caught the hunter's attention again.

"Hop op!" Her voice was sharp and held no malice. Quite certain he had heard that phrase dripping with animosity towards him many a time, she hoped he could tell that he wasn't in trouble.

She waited for him to stop and turn towards her before pointing to the spear strapped to his back. She could see that this weapon was created quickly out of need instead of skill. The wood had been hastily chiseled for the pole making it awkward to grip, unlike the one Daca had made which was carefully sanded down. The tip was just the end worked down to a barely usable point near the shaft. It was a crude weapon but one that had potential if it was cared for with a carver's touch.

"The Java ..." She worked her mouth trying to remember what little basic she had learned with the other night sisters. "Spear. You ... make?"

[Kavan Siron]

Kavan was about to go back to pick up the next bunch of logs he would transport inside the caves. Or whatever next task he would be assigned, really, what mattered was that he proved he could be useful. Truth be told he was hoping that he would have more time for himself to work on his spear and make it better than this rough beginner thing he had made so far. He could do much better, and he would have to improve it as soon as possible. He could hold his ground fairly well in close quarters and unarmed combat due to his past, but he'd rather have a decent weapon on him.

When the Huntress suddenly called after him, he stopped, curious that there was no sneer in her tone. That was quite a surprise given his interactions with other female members of the Clan. The station of the males had been obvious from start. He made sure to behave, as much as it annoyed him. He valued life more than his pride at this point. If he had to work from the bottom up, he would do it.

He hadn't expected her to point at his spear, and he hated that it looked so crude, especially in comparison to the children ones she had helped with just moments ago.

"Yes, Sister" he replied in one of the few words he had already learned from the language. And a "ma'am" was never far off when he had to address a woman around there.

"It will be..." He paused, gesturing in hope as much as in frustration.

"I can... better," he finally managed.

[Spark Vallen]

What did I ever do to deserve this reality? Spark thought once again.

For the longest time, he'd thought Ibis was suggesting he build his own shelter. But, even he knew that was impossible with what he had to work with. And, what sense did that make with the fish anyway?

Why couldn't we have been yanked out over Chandrila or Bakura? Why this backwater with no tech? This is inhumane.

Forgetting that it was a language barrier and that Ibis wasn't - in fact - deaf, Spark exclaimed, "Do I look like a fish monger? Why do you think I should know how to set this up? I hauled blue milk for a living! Blue milk! Do you think a cargo crewer knows how to do this frakking stuff?!"

Of course, she only became more theatrical and pushy in response. Spark sighed and re-arranged the poles once again, staring dumbly at the dirt that Ibis gestured at, well aware that the stanged kids were back and observing this theater of the fishy absurd.

[Cearia Tserta]

She was mildly impressed that the offworlder was making an effort in picking up their language. It was an essential skill he needed to acclimate himself into clan life as not all sisters knew basic. It wouldn't necessarily diminish how often he'd be yelled at by the nightsisters, but the male would at least be more tolerable to instruct. Cearia had seen the frustration with communication by her sisters - a lot of finger jabs and describing the slaves as imbeciles that a beast warden couldn't train was quite common. More so with the fair haired man.

"Kom op hir," She beckoned the man closer with quick flicks of curled fingers.

"Come here," she translated for his benefit and waited, at least knowing that phrase in basic.

Cearia was one of the more petite members of the clan but her presence exuded a confidence slowly built that had taken months to find. She had a long way to go but for now, she was grounded. The furs and leathers she constantly wore complimented her lithe frame, allowing the freedom to move quickly and quietly at a moments notice. Like many of the nightsisters, she was an imposing figure but based on her status as hunter and mate to the clan mother, her posture was just a little bit straighter. Yet the male would notice that her eyes were not as harsh or assuming - they were inviting.

[Daca Tserta]

"Bah!" Lantess threw down his bow in frustration at losing the bet. He'd have to wash and sew clothes in the morning along with Jadis.

Daca grinned at having a free morning, happy she went with her gut that despite how slow the skai man moved, he would soon catch onto the task. Within a few minutes of Ibis making digging motions, understanding light up his dim eyes. His hands clawed at the ground and soon there was a small pile of dirt next to him that was growing.

"Lucky. First get the Great Sister to sit with you. Now ... no chores in the morning," grumbled Jadis with an envious tone.

"We're all lucky. Sister Cearia noticed all of us," she pointed out but remained focused on watching the skai man. "She always noticed us. We didn't know until today."

"But she fixed your spear. You were favored."

"I was closer," she corrected. "And my spear was broken. Your weapons were fine."

"Hrmp." Jadis crossed her arms, not entirely convinced. It made Daca wonder why her friend was being so crossed. Sister Cearia didn't do anything extraordinary except be kind to her, to them, before showing her how to tie a knew knot.

"And you're missing the most important thing that happened!" Lantess broke in with frustration. "She told us we need to practice! Tomorrow after chores, we should. Practice."

Jadis reluctantly agreed and picked up his bow. "We should. Before midday lunch?"

"Meet at the verne enclosure?"

Daca nodded. "Just ... this time we need to be careful. Brother Enjo was not happy that we played too close to the gates. I don't want to chase after verne again. Or clean up poo!"

The debacle was innocent as Lantess dodged Daca's spear attack, but he lost his footing and fell against the gate. The force of it loosened a weakened latch. It flung open and the spooked verne made a mad dash to freedom. The clan mother was not happy and the three of them were on verne dropping cleaning for two days.

"No, no, no, no!" Lantess paled, hands shaking before him. "Just to meet. NO playing around."

The girls nodded and murmured their agreements before saying their farewells. Chores needed to be done with the families that were taking care of the children today. Clan members shared the responsibilities and today it was Sister Ibis' turn to watch Daca.

She trotted over to her and smiled. The elder was ecstatic to see her.

"Thank the gods you're back!" She said in a relieved huff. "The skai man's useless! I don't know why they gave him to me. Go and help him so we have fish to eat tonight."

"Of course, Sister Ibis!"

Ibis smiled for the first time today and ruffled Daca's hair. "Good girl. Thank you. Though ... Daca?"

"Yes?" The young nightchild heard a warning in the older sister's voice.

"Next time be careful running through here! You and your friends almost ruined dinner!"

She clenched her neck with embarrassment, remembering how Lantess came through knocking over the fish. "Yes, Sister Ibis. It won't happen again."

Hands on her hips, the older woman looked down upon her, unconvinced.

"Happen again too soon then ...?" Daca tried with a sweet voice.

"Oh get on with it," Ibis said with a curt chuckle and shooed her away.

Daca beamed and approached the pale haired man, spear secured to her back so she wasn't threatening. Scaring him would probably destroy what little good work he managed to accomplish.

She crouched before him on the other side of the hole he was still digging and smirked. "Hei."

[Kavan Siron]

Kavan knew his newfound place. While he hoped to improve it over time; having had had to adjust to military hierarchy in the past, as well as dealings with assorted criminals, had made him prone to be versatile and adaptable. He knew that women were superior around Dathomir; and while he understood that this woman was the leader's spouse, he also remembered who he belonged to until further notice.

He approached when told to, bowing his head as the huntress spoke to him in both the dialect and in Basic. The gesture was also easy to understand, which he appreciated.

He didn't expect to be treated well by many, if any, but he did what he could to show his good faith in learning the local ways. Really, anything he could learn was welcome. It might be painful and even humiliating; but really, he had gone through the soldier life first, and being alive was the most relevant to him.

Even though he was much taller than the huntress, the way she walked and stood spoke volumes of her position and her power. While he made sure to physically show respect, he didn't grovel before her. He stood close but not too close.

"Yes, gona?"

He didn't know the word "hunter," which he knew was what she did; but "warrior" was the best equivalent he knew in the dialect.

[Spark Vallen]

Don't they have any shovels? Or is this just another way of mocking me, doing this by hand?

He slowed, watching Sister Ibis with the female child; he saw her shooed in his direction. Spark wondered if she was having to do some form of contrition now for sending the fish sailing earlier. He was too new to the clan to have a sense for its customs and politics, especially where the kids were concerned.

Wiping his brow and unintentionally leaving a long, dark smudge of dirt there, Spark eyed the kid.

"Hey yourself," he replied, and continued digging.

[Cearia Tserta]

Cearia nodded curtly in acknowledgement at the respectful way he approached and kept his distance, green eyes finding his word choice curious. Either he believed her to be a warrior or it was the closest word he knew to describe her. She appreciated his effort more than many of the sisters here that may have taken offense.

"Nou, gona," she correctly gently and tapped her chest firmly. "A hompleier."

She brought her hand back as the other extended forward to mimic drawing a bowstring, then tugged at the fur that outlined her coat. A brow quirked towards the skai man to see if he understood.

[Daca Tserta]

Probably for he first time since being caught by the nightsisters, someone smiled at Spark. "Yu spek hei!"

Daca didn't hear the subtle nuance of the skai man's voice that differentiated hei and hey. The nightchild was fascinated and wondered if he could speak more of their language but that smear of dirt along his forehead was distracting.

"Yu don dir der," she said, pointing to his face.

[Kavan Siron]

He had been worried that she would hurt him or send him away at once, for he knew that the word he had used was unlikely to be the correct one.

He hid most of his surprise, but not all of it, when she corrected him without harshness. He couldn't really comprehend why she reacted as such. She was quite the exception. He didn't think it made her better than others, or lesser, just different.

Kavan nodded.

"Chof, Hompleier. Hunter."

He was glad to have another word to add to what he had been learning.

"Yu frag op for....dina."

He pointed his thumb towards himself. He used to be a gona for he was once a soldier and had kept fending for himself since then; but he knew that calling himself as such at the moment would only earn him trouble.

"Honon... Zafra."

He had learned the words for prisoner and slave fairly early on. He was okay with that though. It was surreal how he didn't see that so much as resignation as a way to show his worth and carve a space for himself, hopefully be allowed as more than a slave down the line, especially if he pleased the spider-riding witch who had found him.

[Spark Vallen]

Spark had endured all manner of what he expected were insults about his appearance, from his off-worlder look to the strangeness of his language skills. This kid's tone, however, sounded different, though he couldn't imagine what "Yu don dir der" meant as she pointed at his face.

"Oh yeah?" he replied with nonchalant ease, "yu don dir der too."

Spark grinned, waiting to see her reaction... and hoping it would clue him into what the frell she'd said!

[Cearia Tserta]

"Huhn-ter ..." The word came out choppy, each syllable spoken harsh to get the sound right.

"Hun-ter," Cearia tried again and nodded in satisfaction that the word from her lips was close to his. She decided that the sharp T made the word sound fierce, like her.

She nodded at what he said was correct, though his accent was atrocious. What mattered was his effort in learning. Not only did he speak the word in her language, but he was able to piece together a short sentence that explained what she did too.

"Sha," she replied in agreement to his use of the word prisoner. The last word was of her wife's dialect. It was most noticeably used when Enjo would leave Cearia's side after being dismissed to carry out orders and Anjali would join her. Though he never spoke out of turn again or showed overt interest in what could have been with the hunter, Anjali couldn't help comment on how lucky his tongue was still intact and that she didn't demote him to a zafra.

She had not joined her today but if she had, Cearia wondered what the Clan Mother would think of her wife conversing with a slave.

Cearia studied the way he carried himself - sturdy and ready to move by his stance - and had a lean frame that was built for endurance. His eyes were sharp and there was light within them, showing he was always thinking.

"Hofli nou feva," she said after sizing him up. "Not ... always."

She titled her head up with confidence and continued. "Yu laik a gona. Fou."

[Daca Tserta]

Daca looked taken aback by that and brought a hand up to check her face. She swiped both cheeks and rubbed her forehead with the back of a hand, perplexed that it was clean after inspecting it.

"Der's nou graun!" She picked up some from the pile he made and threw it at him. "Yu Branwoda Ai!"

[Kavan Siron]

Kavan kept his expression neutral as the hunter worked on the word in Basic he had just told her. He nodded his head when she pronounced it correctly. While it was not his place to say anything against the women of the Clan, he nevertheless wanted to mark how she had done it correctly. It seemed polite to do it, and really he was grateful that she took time to speak to him, instead of just scolding him, if not worse like hitting him or barking orders he only half comprehended.

He was also aware that his own pronunciation was likely horrendous. He did his best to learn as many new words as he could; but the way he said them was a far cry from what it should be. Truth be told, he mostly worked on it by himself, for a few he had tried to speak to considered that not only he should shut up as a slave; but that his butchering of the language was another reason to punish him.

Maybe he should have had a sour taste in his mouth when she agreed to his use of the word prisoner, when speaking about himself; but he didn't. And he was genuinely relieved he seemed to be remembering more correctly as every day passed by. It was tedious work, in a way more difficult than the physical tasks that were forced upon him. He wasn't sure how he was managing it; but he bet it had to do with his strong drive to rise above his current position in his new life. Dreaming of leaving Dathomir was a mere fantasy that would unlikely come to fruition. At least, it kept some of his enemies away for the unforeseen future.

He didn't really understand what she said next but tried to commit the words to his memory. He smiled and bowed his head when she gave a translation.

"Hofleeee no... nou. fe.. Hofli nou feavaah?"

He might be pushing his luck by trying to repeat to make sure he got it right; but he would learn quick enough if he angered her.

When she called him a warrior, he didn't understand all the bits of her sentence, but he nodded.

"Sha. Ai... fous. Soldier."

That was the best he could say to explain he used to be a soldier.

[Spark Vallen]

On his knees as they dug, he reared back to avoid the dirt storm that the girl hurled at him.

"Hey! What'd I say?"

He over-balanced and toppled backward, landing on his backside with a gasp. Spark frowned and dusted off his tunic.

"Better yet, what'd you say?"

Gods... this is impossible... he thought. And here, I thought we were getting along!

The Corellian thought about what had just happened, how she'd rubbed her forehead. Comprehension dawned on him as he checked his own brow, and then laughed.

"Oh! I had dirt on my forehead! Stang, why didn't ya just say so?" he laughed

He tugged at his grimy tunic up to wipe at his brow, exposing his torso in the process. Dropping it back into place, he at least knew how to say "no" in the local language and reiterated the earlier phrase.

"Nou don dir der!"

[Cearia Tserta]

Her brows knitted tightly together as she worked on a better translation for the skai man, realizing that for his benefit he needed specifics. "Not for-evah. I hope."

The statement was true. He didn't have to be an outsider forever and with his unique skills and knowledge, it could make the clan stronger. It should be encouraged that he learn more to become a brother while earning his keep - all under a watchful eye, of course. He was a stranger until he could be trusted and she had a feeling she wasn't wasting her time.

Cearia gave him a patient smile as he worked through the words. "You close. You practik."

As he shared more about himself, it made sense why he wanted to make a weapon, despite the spear needing great care. She motioned him to come closer, keeping her hand out. "Huk op Ai java. Give. Spear."

She wasn't going to take the weapon from him, only inspect it. Her gruff use of basic made her sound harsh but her stance was non-threatening despite the confidence exuded. She was in complete control of this encounter.

[Daca Tserta]

Daca was beginning to understand why this skai man was making Sister Ibis upset. He wouldn't stop spouting gibberish and was clumsy. How could he fall so hard on his rear from simple dirt flung at him, even if it caught him by surprise...

Then the fool began to laugh which only made the nightgirl frown until he explained himself in her language. Her nose curled with frustration as she tried to understand what happened.

"Den chomouda yu don biyo Ai don dula?" she muttered to herself more than for his benefit because he obviously didn't grasp their language.

"Oh!" Realization came and she nodded to him. "You ... biyo. Say ... chit Ai biyo. Say ..."

Frustrated that she didn't know enough words, Daca thumped at her chest, shook her head, and returned to digging, unsure how to communicate well with the skai man.