FSC: As Good as the Rest, G (Trade Winds)
Aug 1, 2020 3:39:12 GMT 10
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Post by mistrali on Aug 1, 2020 3:39:12 GMT 10
Title: As Good as The Rest
Rating: G
Prompt/Event: A Change is as Good as a Rest (Triathlon 2020)
Summary and Warnings: Pravunni’s first meal with the new daka brings some unexpected revelations. Word Count: 694 (500+ words).
Warnings for ableism. Some as regards Polyam’s appearance, and most regarding her status in the caravan.
*****
Tenth Caravan Idaram, en route to The Realms of the Sun, the sixth day of Blood Moon, 1036 KF.
Polyam arrived at supper late. The others, mostly daka and horse handlers, were already seated around the kitchen table. Unlike her companions, who mumbled greetings to their plates, Pravunni forced herself to look at Polyam and smile. Meeting only one eye was uncomfortable where you were used to seeing two. That, along with the deep pocked scars which twisted the left side of her mouth into a permanent sneer, made it hard to tell what Polyam was thinking.
To Pravunni’s surprise, she received a smile back. They’d been acquaintances once, before her accident, but since then Polyam had taken to eating alone, for although folk were permitted to eat with wirok, no one wanted to be seen or shamed for doing so. For the first time Pravunni realised that meant Polyam hadn’t been allowed to join her own mother or aunt at mealtimes.
“Something for you from the kitchen, gilavna?” asked Kriyan, addressing her nails. Pravunni winced and shifted uncomfortably. Normally an honorific for the gilav’s son or daughter, in the senior daka’s mouth, the word held more than a bite of acid. Kriyan was implying that Polyam had no right to eat here, because she’d secured the prime trade with the Yanjingyi nobles by Gilav Chandrisa’s favour alone.
Did everything Kriyan ate curdle in her mouth? It was one thing to speak so to her junior and trainee daka, like Pravunni, and another to be rude to someone who had helped save all their lives, wirok or not. Two years ago, Kriyan had addressed Polyam with the honey-sweetness reserved for one who wants the best horseflesh. It gave Pravunni the shivers that Kriyan could now muster so much bile for the same person. Besides, Gilav Chandrisa’s word was law.
“As the kaqs say, a change is as good as a rest,” said Polyam. Was that amusement Pravunni heard?
There was dead silence. Everyone else stared, then looked away, as if Polyam hadn’t spoken. In equal silence, Polyam set down her plate and began to eat her couscous, spiced carrots and stuffed eggplants, as calmly as if she was alone.
Then, slowly, Rawayun, Parima, Jaipal and Alisa, who were all sitting on Polyam’s side of the table, stood and moved towards the main dining area. Pravunni went cold all over. Some emotion she couldn’t name - rage, indignation, shame or sheer contrariness — impelled her to rise and sit next to Polyam. She ignored Kriyan’s outraged screech and Danyush’s flinch.
“I don’t need your pity,” muttered Polyam, out of the corner of her mouth. “Or did you forget no one cares what a wirok says?”
“You’re a daka now,” said Pravunni. Then she realised what she had said, and belatedly bit her tongue. “I mean… I’m sorry, I didn’t…”
“You’re not helping your case,” said Polyam. “Either I’m a daka, and good enough to associate with, or I’m not.” There was definite frost in her voice this time, a crow-harshness that made Pravunni feel she deserved every cold look she got.
Mercifully, neither of them spoke for the rest of the meal. When her plate was empty, Polyam walked over and dumped it into the wash-bucket, the thump-thump of her iron leg against the floor audible over the others’ conversation, the sizzle of hot food and the clatter of the cast-iron skillets and serving spoons.
“Well,” she said pleasantly. “I’ll let you all get back to gossiping about me behind my back.” She nodded at Kriyan, who was glaring at her fit to pickle onion. “If you’re not careful, cousin, your face will freeze like that.”
Pravunni bit her lip, counted to a hundred, tidied her own dishes without a word to any of them, and stalked out of the dining caravan.
Polyam had become dour, taciturn and bitter as oversteeped tea after her accident. When she spoke at all, she spoke to offend. Now Pravunni was beginning to see why. In the other woman’s shoes, she might have strangled half of Tenth Caravan Idaram in short order, especially Kriya, with her serpent’s tongue. Next time, she would have the courage to speak up. This time, she would make amends.
Rating: G
Prompt/Event: A Change is as Good as a Rest (Triathlon 2020)
Summary and Warnings: Pravunni’s first meal with the new daka brings some unexpected revelations. Word Count: 694 (500+ words).
Warnings for ableism. Some as regards Polyam’s appearance, and most regarding her status in the caravan.
*****
Tenth Caravan Idaram, en route to The Realms of the Sun, the sixth day of Blood Moon, 1036 KF.
Polyam arrived at supper late. The others, mostly daka and horse handlers, were already seated around the kitchen table. Unlike her companions, who mumbled greetings to their plates, Pravunni forced herself to look at Polyam and smile. Meeting only one eye was uncomfortable where you were used to seeing two. That, along with the deep pocked scars which twisted the left side of her mouth into a permanent sneer, made it hard to tell what Polyam was thinking.
To Pravunni’s surprise, she received a smile back. They’d been acquaintances once, before her accident, but since then Polyam had taken to eating alone, for although folk were permitted to eat with wirok, no one wanted to be seen or shamed for doing so. For the first time Pravunni realised that meant Polyam hadn’t been allowed to join her own mother or aunt at mealtimes.
“Something for you from the kitchen, gilavna?” asked Kriyan, addressing her nails. Pravunni winced and shifted uncomfortably. Normally an honorific for the gilav’s son or daughter, in the senior daka’s mouth, the word held more than a bite of acid. Kriyan was implying that Polyam had no right to eat here, because she’d secured the prime trade with the Yanjingyi nobles by Gilav Chandrisa’s favour alone.
Did everything Kriyan ate curdle in her mouth? It was one thing to speak so to her junior and trainee daka, like Pravunni, and another to be rude to someone who had helped save all their lives, wirok or not. Two years ago, Kriyan had addressed Polyam with the honey-sweetness reserved for one who wants the best horseflesh. It gave Pravunni the shivers that Kriyan could now muster so much bile for the same person. Besides, Gilav Chandrisa’s word was law.
“As the kaqs say, a change is as good as a rest,” said Polyam. Was that amusement Pravunni heard?
There was dead silence. Everyone else stared, then looked away, as if Polyam hadn’t spoken. In equal silence, Polyam set down her plate and began to eat her couscous, spiced carrots and stuffed eggplants, as calmly as if she was alone.
Then, slowly, Rawayun, Parima, Jaipal and Alisa, who were all sitting on Polyam’s side of the table, stood and moved towards the main dining area. Pravunni went cold all over. Some emotion she couldn’t name - rage, indignation, shame or sheer contrariness — impelled her to rise and sit next to Polyam. She ignored Kriyan’s outraged screech and Danyush’s flinch.
“I don’t need your pity,” muttered Polyam, out of the corner of her mouth. “Or did you forget no one cares what a wirok says?”
“You’re a daka now,” said Pravunni. Then she realised what she had said, and belatedly bit her tongue. “I mean… I’m sorry, I didn’t…”
“You’re not helping your case,” said Polyam. “Either I’m a daka, and good enough to associate with, or I’m not.” There was definite frost in her voice this time, a crow-harshness that made Pravunni feel she deserved every cold look she got.
Mercifully, neither of them spoke for the rest of the meal. When her plate was empty, Polyam walked over and dumped it into the wash-bucket, the thump-thump of her iron leg against the floor audible over the others’ conversation, the sizzle of hot food and the clatter of the cast-iron skillets and serving spoons.
“Well,” she said pleasantly. “I’ll let you all get back to gossiping about me behind my back.” She nodded at Kriyan, who was glaring at her fit to pickle onion. “If you’re not careful, cousin, your face will freeze like that.”
Pravunni bit her lip, counted to a hundred, tidied her own dishes without a word to any of them, and stalked out of the dining caravan.
Polyam had become dour, taciturn and bitter as oversteeped tea after her accident. When she spoke at all, she spoke to offend. Now Pravunni was beginning to see why. In the other woman’s shoes, she might have strangled half of Tenth Caravan Idaram in short order, especially Kriya, with her serpent’s tongue. Next time, she would have the courage to speak up. This time, she would make amends.