Post by PeroxidePirate on Aug 22, 2010 8:36:47 GMT 10
Title: Still Tsaw'ha
Rating: PG
Prompt: 17. curse of the gypsy blood/ 18. quarter moon better than none
Summary: Some things have changed. Other things, not so much.
Note: These two ficlets take place one after the other. I'm posting them together because they're both related to both prompts.
Daja parted ways with Tris, and came slowly back to her body. She was still in the clearing, limbs gone stiff with the lack of motion. She blinked. It had been mid-afternoon when they started their exploration, but now the sun was setting. Her stomach rumbled and her mouth was dry. She reached for her water bottle.
“Back at last,” said a voice from within the trees.
Daja stood up, peering into the forest. “Who's there?”
Between the shade, and the glare of the setting sun, Daja couldn't see her visitor's face. It was the walk she recognized: almost normal, but with a little more weight carried on the right leg, less on the left, trader's staff used for support even on flat ground. “Polyam!”
She chuckled dryly. “I wondered if you'd know me. It's been a long time.”
“Five years.” The caravan had been in Summersea once, just before Daja's first trip to Namorn.
She stepped forward, and the two women embraced. “I wasn't sure if you were still-”
“I'm the same – still traveling. Still limping. Still wirok for Tenth Caravan Idarum.” She resettled her grip on her staff, then let Daja go. “But you've changed.”
“In some ways.” Daja wished the light was better – it was hard to see the designs on the other trader's staff, and impossible to see her face. It crossed her mind that Polyam might have wanted it that way. “Have you been waiting long?”
There was that chuckle again, and a shrug. “Five years. Ten minutes.”
“I was...” Suddenly uncomfortable, she searched for the right words. “You remember Tris? She wanted to see the caverns again, but she can't travel. I promised we'd go, through our magic.”
“Trisana Chandler. I've heard things about her, these last few years...” Polyam was peering at Daja, in spite of the dark. “Where is she?”
“Summersea.”
“And she needs you to reach those caverns?”
Daja stared. Of course she wouldn't. “I never thought of that.”
“She's waiting for you,” Polyam said, with something like resignation.
“She can't be.” Daja gripped her staff. “I'm not sure I'm going back. The caravan – our caravan – is here. And I'm Tsaw'ha, too.”
The sun set as they walked toward the parked caravan, and a slice of moon lit the sky.
“I thought going back to Summersea would fix it,” Daja said. “I thought there I'd be whole again. I had a life there, before we went to Namorn. A house, a forge, buyers for my work. And Tris and I got on fine.”
“And the others?” Polyam asked. “The last time I saw you, the four of you did everything together.”
Daja shrugged, uncomfortably. “Sandry was busy helping her uncle. And Briar had barely gotten back before Duke Vedris asked us to go again.”
“What you and Tris had... is that what you want to get back?”
Daja shook her head, before remembering that Polyam couldn't see her in the dark. “I think we have what we had before: she's my friend, my saati. So is Sandry. So is Briar. Being with them, in Summersea... I thought it would be enough. But they're not Rizu. And I wonder if I should have stayed with her, in Namorn. I'd have lost everything else – but at least I'd have her.”
“You're still Tsaw'ha,” Polyam answered, in Trader-talk. “The answer is never stay. It's always keep going. Keep moving until you reach where you're meant to be.”
Daja turned that over in her mind, wondering if she was Tsaw'ha enough.
Rating: PG
Prompt: 17. curse of the gypsy blood/ 18. quarter moon better than none
Summary: Some things have changed. Other things, not so much.
Note: These two ficlets take place one after the other. I'm posting them together because they're both related to both prompts.
Daja parted ways with Tris, and came slowly back to her body. She was still in the clearing, limbs gone stiff with the lack of motion. She blinked. It had been mid-afternoon when they started their exploration, but now the sun was setting. Her stomach rumbled and her mouth was dry. She reached for her water bottle.
“Back at last,” said a voice from within the trees.
Daja stood up, peering into the forest. “Who's there?”
Between the shade, and the glare of the setting sun, Daja couldn't see her visitor's face. It was the walk she recognized: almost normal, but with a little more weight carried on the right leg, less on the left, trader's staff used for support even on flat ground. “Polyam!”
She chuckled dryly. “I wondered if you'd know me. It's been a long time.”
“Five years.” The caravan had been in Summersea once, just before Daja's first trip to Namorn.
She stepped forward, and the two women embraced. “I wasn't sure if you were still-”
“I'm the same – still traveling. Still limping. Still wirok for Tenth Caravan Idarum.” She resettled her grip on her staff, then let Daja go. “But you've changed.”
“In some ways.” Daja wished the light was better – it was hard to see the designs on the other trader's staff, and impossible to see her face. It crossed her mind that Polyam might have wanted it that way. “Have you been waiting long?”
There was that chuckle again, and a shrug. “Five years. Ten minutes.”
“I was...” Suddenly uncomfortable, she searched for the right words. “You remember Tris? She wanted to see the caverns again, but she can't travel. I promised we'd go, through our magic.”
“Trisana Chandler. I've heard things about her, these last few years...” Polyam was peering at Daja, in spite of the dark. “Where is she?”
“Summersea.”
“And she needs you to reach those caverns?”
Daja stared. Of course she wouldn't. “I never thought of that.”
“She's waiting for you,” Polyam said, with something like resignation.
“She can't be.” Daja gripped her staff. “I'm not sure I'm going back. The caravan – our caravan – is here. And I'm Tsaw'ha, too.”
The sun set as they walked toward the parked caravan, and a slice of moon lit the sky.
“I thought going back to Summersea would fix it,” Daja said. “I thought there I'd be whole again. I had a life there, before we went to Namorn. A house, a forge, buyers for my work. And Tris and I got on fine.”
“And the others?” Polyam asked. “The last time I saw you, the four of you did everything together.”
Daja shrugged, uncomfortably. “Sandry was busy helping her uncle. And Briar had barely gotten back before Duke Vedris asked us to go again.”
“What you and Tris had... is that what you want to get back?”
Daja shook her head, before remembering that Polyam couldn't see her in the dark. “I think we have what we had before: she's my friend, my saati. So is Sandry. So is Briar. Being with them, in Summersea... I thought it would be enough. But they're not Rizu. And I wonder if I should have stayed with her, in Namorn. I'd have lost everything else – but at least I'd have her.”
“You're still Tsaw'ha,” Polyam answered, in Trader-talk. “The answer is never stay. It's always keep going. Keep moving until you reach where you're meant to be.”
Daja turned that over in her mind, wondering if she was Tsaw'ha enough.