ABSENS VILLATA [QUEST]

[Hilana Chenzira]

She was delighted to hear that Arvaelyn had gotten to ride a Wyvern, and she resolved to ask him later what he thought of it. Going up into the sky was exhilarating, and while she loved her camel, the speed at which you traversed through the air did not compare. The girl was always happy to talk and carry on a conversation as they went. She pointed out plants and little critters as they went, though she rarely steered Hayima’el off of the road. They had a place to get to, after all; she couldn’t just take off willy-nilly. The few times she did were to harvest pieces of cactus and other plants and prickly pears with a sharp knife. The spines were removed with the same knife, and the pieces placed In the pouch in front of her. All of which was doable from her perch on the camel, and on the move.

She enjoyed the song, offering her own in turn to the Bard. She liked sharing her culture with them, and it was out here in the sands that she was most relaxed while her energy still sang its own songs with the wind. “You can play a lot of instruments up here,” she told him. “As you get on with your camel, you don’t always need your hands, and can go by feet alone. My favourite is the syrinx. Do you have that one across the sea? It is a set of pipes that are secured together, each of them closed at one end, and you blow into it,” she explained. “We’ve also done drums and lyres while on the roads.”

When caravans went by, she called out greetings in Vastii, inquiring of them, finding out where they had come from and what they had seen in rapid exchanges before translating them for Arry and Finn, detailing the places in the air on an imaginary map in front of her to explain the places and distances. It struck her that Masquerade might have been useful; but they were just going to have to use their imaginations like she did.

She wasn’t surprised when it turned out that they were taking a break at the watering hole, and she felt it was probably for the best. She had to remember, after all, that this was a trip that her friends were not used to making. Stopping to rest and stretch would go a long way. While she has no problems siding off of Hayima’el from full height, her skirts flouncing as she landed neatly in the sands, she talked Arvaelyn through the process. “Lean back against Finn, and bring your other leg over this way,” she encouraged him, and when he was ready, she would take his hand closest and brace to reassure him. Wouldn’t fall, she was right there! It was not the same as coming down from a Wyvern, at least, even if Hilana’s camel was quite tall. “There you go, great job,” she smiled at the Sunborn, and she would offer the same assistance down to Finn if he wanted it.

She was touched that Raithen thought of her camel, though, and she inclined her head to him. “Thank you. That was kind of you, truly,” Hilana beamed at him, bringing Hayima’el around to the water. The big camel looked over the winged Avialae first, studying him with big dark eyes before offering the head wolf of the group the same snuffles he had Finn and Arvaelyn under his mistress’s watchful eye. His muzzle investigated Raithen’s hair, and thick lips mussed it up a bit more. “He says thank you,” the Vastii grinned as the camel rumbled before breathing in the warrior’s face and then lowered his muzzle into the water. She would stay with him until he finished with it before joining the others for the frozen fruit and the pita, the camel laying back down in the sand while everyone ate.

She did transition the cactus paddles and prickly pears into another pack to empty her pouch out again in the event that they spotted more things on the way. She came back around to guide Arry and Finn back into position, and took up her own perch. Hayima’el stood back up and they were on their way once more. She was as cheerful as ever as Raithen came back to them, resolving to try to find a way to adjust the packs to make a seat on top of them for him so that he could relax up there and take a break, too, rather than having to walk. She would figure it out. It would just take some rearranging.

When they stopped, though, and everyone was off the camel, Hilana was pleased. This one she knew, and with Hayima’el in the shade, she had him lay down so that she could start removing the packs from the big bull. The four packs they had been issued were lined up; and the packs she had put together along with the saddle bags were removed. Despite the fact the sun was going down, she took her travel cloak off, shaking it and putting it over the empty saddle for the time being - Hilana wanted her arms free of the sleeves for now, and went to work. The methodical unpacking was probably ranging from amusing to downright disturbing to any of the men watching, because the girl had managed to squirrel away an awful lot of things in the packs that she had prepared. Nomad though she was, and Raithen being used to being out as far as she knew from their earlier meeting, Finn was learning, but Arvaelyn was a bit of a wildcard. She was determined to try to make this work as well as possible for all of them. Who knew? Maybe regular camping trips could become a thing from time to time.

The four-person tent was brought out for Raithen and Arvaelyn to set up, a small collapsible shovel set up and proffered - the possibility of just using kinetics to move the sand hadn’t occurred to the girl - the bedrolls and blankets stacked on the saddle to keep them tidy until the tarp went down, a number of pots for water, a couple pans, one of which was still covered, bowls and utensils, some strange iron tripod contraption with chains and hooks that was apparently for cooking over the fire, a grate that went with it, well-wrapped bundles of food. She could give Finn instructions on how much water per pot - the big one was likely to be annoying when water went into it, so it was probably better to use the smaller ones and make two trips. Hilana, in the meantime, set to work on harvesting from the plants for fuel. There was some dung, but on inspection, she found that it was fresher than she liked and that wasn’t going to work in terms of burning… but there were fronds and the oil, and that would do the job with the firepit. Some of the palms weren’t so high she needed the strap for climbing, but once she got up there she could take a couple of the older fronds that were drying out and prune the trees. Better for the trees, anyway, and what they didn’t use tonight they could take with them for the next time. She pushed herself away from the tree, landing on easily on her feet, her skirts rustling as she gathered up the fronds. When the pit was ready, she would get the fire started and arrange the tripod to start preparing dinner.

[Finn]

"Ah, yes... shepherd's pipes..." He smiled and decided he would keep an eye out for likely looking reeds when they reached the oasis that evening. Drums were as varied as grains of sand in Atraxia, though he could imagine collecting some of those. As for stringed instruments, they might be the easiest to pick up. Of course, he liked a challenge.

The day passed pleasantly enough. Sometimes they spoke. Sometimes he just let his thoughts drift along the breezes to the rhythm of Hayima'el's gait, the roll of his back. Lunch was refreshing, and it felt like waking up from a dream to have Raithen back and conversation much easier. It took some stretching before he was ready to clamber back aboard the camel; his legs weren't used to such long rides. Even in Kalzasi, he hadn't ridden a horse or anything, but kept to his own feet or occasionally a hansom cab if he was running late for something important.

It was rather exciting to descend once more at the oasis, and he was amiable enough when Raithen started giving orders. One way or another, he figured he would be following as he was not a desert creature. Not yet. He was used to following Hilana's instructions, though, and so he followed her around helping as he could and as she bade him. Having been quiet for such long stretches of the day, though, he found himself asking several questions whenever her litany of desert ecology facts slowed down.

"What is the name of that little mouse?" he asked of the kangaroo mouse that watched them. He held out his hand, kneeling, and sang a few lines from a children's song, and the mouse came scurring over to climb into his hand. He stood and examined it, glad to have made a friend that he hoped would at least warn him if a spider or a scorpion or a snake was about to kill him.

Also, "Would it be all right if I cut some reeds to make a syrinx? Some reeds are edible, I know, and I don't want to take food out of the mouths of starving travelers."

[Arvælyn]

Arvælyn followed Hilana's instructions to dismount the camel, giving her a bit of an odd look when she spoke to him in the sort of glowing praise a tutor might accord a toddler. After the moment passed, he resolved it in an amused smirk rather than taking any offence. She clearly didn't mean to be condescending, and the tone actually struck him more funny than anything.

Like Finn, Arry was not a terribly practised rider, so the long-term travel did leave his haunches sore, leaving him with a bit of a limp as he traverse the sand to rendezvous with their team leader. When Raithen was asking after their skill sets, Arvælyn made no effort to minimise his lack of practical experience in the setting. The trip between Antiris and Kalzasi had been the extent of his experience camping, and that had been along a regularly trafficked road. He hadn't foraged for food nor sought out shelter, he'd used charm or stealth to get what he needed. With no one on whom to ply those talents outside their party, he was happy to accept the assignment Raithen gave him... At least after making the obligatory 'tent pitching' joke to Finn. He needed to check in a lot pertaining to the technique of what he was doing, as he had little experience with manual labour, but he was stronger than he'd ever been and obliging when he understood his assignment. He wasn't a slow learner by any means, he was just anxious and eager to do things properly.

When things were set up and the fire was lit, it was nice to just settle into the sand and relax. As the cool night descended over the desert, the stars above were bright as they were countless. He'd never seen such a clear night. It was gorgeous, the thought, as he cast a flirtatious glance sidelong to Finn. It might have been romantic, were it not for their companions. But Finn's attention was on the local fauna and, following his gaze, Arry's eyes widened.

"So cute!" He whispered, as not to frighten the little creature Finn sought to lure. He got up onto his knees and peered into Finn's cupped hand as he held the little rodent aloft.

"The rats out here are much more my speed than the city sort. Look how timid! City rats will bite you, just as soon as look at you." He hadn't realised how hungry he was, until Hilana's dish was presented to him, and then it was a challenge not to devour it ravenously. Today had been a half day, since they'd started somewhat late, but based on Raithen's briefing it sounded as though they'd reach their destination either late tomorrow or early the next day. He was nervous to embark upon a region as ominously named as the Circulus Mali, but he knew that Phocion wouldn't have sent him if he didn't think he could handle himself. Besides, Raithen seemed capable enough and, whether he knew it or not, they were kin. That gave him a bit more faith in Raithen's abilities than was, perhaps, rational, but that was how he felt.

[Raithen]

Erecting the tent was a simple affair, even with the elf who didn't seem to have any knowledge of such things. The winged leader held up both the canvas and the poles with aether poured from his rune while instructing Arvælyn on how to use the wooden mallets to pound the rods deep into the soft sands till they reached the denser packed stuff below. He also let the other elf inspect the doings as much as pleased him so that he would learn how it was to be done even with out the help of Kinetics.

When it was done he surveyed it proudly before turning to find that Hilana had decided to climb the tall palms surrounding the water source. That he might have flown up and gotten her what she needed seemingly had not occurred to her but he appreciated her willingness and ability to take matters into her own hands.

Digging a pit for them to use for bodily functions during the night was a matter of moments for him and the fire pit had been dug long, long ago be travelers likely long dead.

Once they were all settled he complimented Hilana on her skill and ability to cook both. His eyes wandered after her swaying walk as she finished preparing their meal and served it. The whole group was well within his level of attraction and he was not at all displeased at the idea of spending a night pressed close to any of them. Rai knew to keep his hands to himself unless he asked first, but he was not of the belief that physical interaction with his team would somehow make them less effective should their mission come to the likely conclusion of needed violence done together. In fact, over his time with the guard he had found that he fought better beside companions who he'd shared intimacy with; it gave him a sort of instinctive insight as to how they moved, how changes in the way they took in air or held it foretold attacks or parries.

He grinned when Finn's sweet voice lured a little desert animal to his hand, leaning back on his elbows with his feet toward the fire. Curiosity was good, even if the lack of caution would have to be tempered before it did the job itself with finality. He could speak to the musician later about it, no need to spoil the comfort of their evening with dire warnings. Hilana was better suited to giving answer about mouse and reeds both, so he let her do so while he tucked into the hot food. It was simple, which suited him well, flat bread and hot stew of some kind, just spicy enough to tingle and warm his insides after the physical heat had faded.

While Finn and Hilana discussed flora and fauna he smiled across the little fire at Arvælyn.

"Where are you from?" It was an innocent enough question and others followed it, not prying, not overly personal; a combination of learning more about the man and learning more about his abilities to both fight and survive. No shame was cast, regardless of the answers each person's story was their own. When he was done eating he stood to place his bowl with the other dishes, and when he settled again he was along side the elf rather than across from him. His demeanor shifted minutely to warmer than merely companion or commander. If his closeness in either physical space or tone was rejected there was no harm in it. Some people were interested in Raithen and some weren't, that was just life.

[Hilana Chenzira]

The fronds, already dry, didn’t take much to ignite them. She drizzled a bit of oil from a bottle on top of the little pile underneath the iron tripod, and with two sharp strikes of flint and steel, sparks ignited the oil. Well-satisfied to let that grow, Hilana’s next step was preparing dinner. She had been a bit hopeful of finding a sandcock on the trip, but as it was, no such luck. But the Vastiana was not put out; she was prepared with other things. The spiny cactus paddles that she had insisted on harvesting while they had been on their way were now beside her in the sands, and a sharp knife was peeling them deftly. When she was little, she’d learned to avoid the spines while preparing them or their brilliant red fruit. Pain was the best teacher, after all. Now that she was older she didn’t need the gloves, but Hayima’el was also watching for his share. Pieces of spiny cactus skin and chunks of the paddles themselves were set aside on a wooden platter, while pieces were going into a pot of salted water that was starting to bubble.

She had started the Kalzasi native on these before, and he also got the opportunity to practice what she had taught him with the knife, too - she took one side of spikes off to get him started and let him work on the other side, to peel and slice the pieces into bite-sized morsels. And through it all, the girl rarely quieted. The sands brought something out in her, which Finn had likely gotten used to through their trips outside the city. There was a near relentless running commentary as she was going back and forth between Common and interjections of Vastian - Vastian to give Finn local names, what those in the city might have called them, and what the nomads called them, if it varied. Plants, tracks, sounds, signs, before she had settled on her knees to work on dinner, there had been smells and touches. This was healthy, this was less so. This could be harvested, that could not be.

Raithen had heard her go on at length in Sweet Remedies when they had discussed poisons, paralytics, restoratives, blood cleansers, and methodologies. Arvaelyn had gotten a dose of her obsession with plants before during their first meeting, when a benign, hypothetical question about plants had been answered with unexpected enthusiasm, and this was clearly more of the same. So long as she had someone willing to listen, she was more than happy to talk at length about the world that they were now outside in. She wasn’t so loud enough to interrupt the Princes, but the girl kept on talking. Cities and stages and political intrigue or military regiments were not her forte, but this was. If something caught Finn’s eye, it got her attention and she would explain that too.

While her student finished the cactus paddles, the girl had moved onto other things. Lentils, chickpeas, eggplant, potatoes, a couple of different kinds of beans that had already been soaked, onions, peppers, garlic, and tomatoes all went into the pot with clarified butter, followed by an already prepared spice mix that she had put together at home. Coriander, cumin, cinnamon, allspice... and gods knew what else she was putting in there, but it was not at all unpleasant, and the aroma was rather typical of what one might find around the markets. The cactus pieces were soon removed with a wire utensil, fished out, and put in with the other vegetables along with some more water. The stew was on, and the girl put the lid on to let it get to cooking down. The lid would come off a few more times, to stir it and then to add rice and sliced rounds of smoked sausage. The smallest covered pan still kept to the side for now, but a larger one was being used to warm the flatbreads to go with the stew before everything could be dished up.

With the food cooking, Hayima’el got his wooden platter with the pieces of discarded cacti, spines and all, the stems of the other vegetables, pieces of peelings, and two of the prickly pears that she had snatched on the way. The camel tucked in. He also had his own bowl of water that she was keeping an eye on to make sure that he had everything he needed. Like Tiaz, the girl was perfectly happy to spoil the camel, but unlike the python, this behemoth of a beast had worked hard for it.

Healthy portions were ladled out into the bowls along with spoons, and the warmed flatbreads could be used as the utensils, or for dipping, or for eating on the side - there was no wrong way to eat it, as far as Hilana was concerned. But she saw that look in Raithen’s eyes as he watched her, and she smiled at him, her dark eyes dancing, before winking. She hadn’t forgotten his offer and her answer earlier in the season as for the most part, and once everyone was served and had their drinks, Hilana settled down again, too, eating her stew with the bread. The mouse got her attention as Finn held it up. “That is a dark jumping mouse. Microdipodops,” she offered the Vastian name as well for Arvaelyn and Finn. “It is one of two types. There’s also the pale one, which just means that its fur is much more sandy in colour, and they’re often found much further into the southeast. They move mostly on their hind legs, they move much faster that way, surprisingly. But they can also jump considerable height, probably up to chest height if they get a running start, or about your waist from a dead stop,” the girl explained. “I used to trap them for Tiaz when he was small, though he outgrew them by the time he was two, and he was eating multiples for a meal. They’re mostly nocturnal, and they dig out really intricate burrows far below the sands. One of my cousins in Tertium loved them when he was small, his father commissioned this big glass cage for them so that you could actually see the tunnels and such. It was very interesting to see, though he outgrew them not long after I went to the herds, I think. If he starts making very high-pitched sounds, that’s a warning that he’s hearing something,” she added. She didn’t know if that tidbit of knowledge would come in handy tonight, but she certainly hoped not.

“We can make you a syrinx. I ...brought mine,” she admitted to them. Hilana had already professed to not be particularly skilled with music, but she had thought Finn might like to try it while they were stopped for the night. “I figured that you might want to give it a go. These reeds are not in any way edible for us, though there are wildlife that will eat them. Let me get mine out and show you, and we can cut some reeds. We want the tops, since those will be driest and best to use, and that way the bottoms will keep on growing. That way it’s a sustainable harvest.” She would get the dishes tidied up once the production of the next legendary instrument was underway, and then she could let the cake warm a bit later on the fire. She went around to Hayima’el and retrieved a set of the shepherd’s pipes, already bound with brightly-coloured threads. It was well-used, and not particularly fancy or decorative, but it was clearly loved. It had two decks, thirteen pipes in all, and each of them was marked with a symbol to illustrate the note that it was made to make. Finn would likely recognize those symbols from studying the Solunarian sheet music in his time there so far.

The large machete that she had used on the fronds of the palms was back out, too, and leaving Arvaelyn and Raithen at the fire, she took Finn and his new friend off to the reeds. “So what we’re looking for is the hollows, the acoustics,” she explained, flicking the tops of the reeds and listening for the reverberations. “We’ll take them about a hand longer, just to make sure that we have clean margins and enough to make plugs, too, if need be,” she eyed her own instrument for length. “We can whittle them down with a shorter knife to trim them up,” Hilana added, before the two of them set to work on the reeds. Extras, after all, could be spread in the brushes to allow the creatures another snack that might have had a harder time getting them. Once they had fourteen reeds cut, it was off for yet another knife, and they could start peeling and trimming. She had a bit of resin in case they had needed it, and once they were ready to assemble... once the shaping, and tuning was accomplished, then they could use a bit here and there to seal it and put it together with twine. That part, she would let Finn work on - his ear for notes and tunes was better than hers, especially when he had a tuned instrument to work with to sample from, and she could get the dishes scoured and dealt with before coming back to him and the instrument so that technique could be imparted.

If someone had ever told her she would be showing a master bard how to use an instrument, she - along with the rest of her old pack - would have laughed at them, but sometimes the world did get turned on its ear...

[Finn]

Finn would have happily pitched Arvælyn's tent, but he didn't think they would have the privacy for it. He let Arvælyn pet the little creature he charmed, as well, and Hilana's encylopædic knowledge of wildlife underscored his one hope: if the little creature stayed near them, it might warn them of certain dangers. As such, he was happy to feed the little thing tidbits from his hands, playing steward for his little alarm system, though he wouldn't take it away from its oasis home whenever they left.

Following Hilana toward the water, he made sure to refill any empty vessels while there. He knew now exactly how valuable it was in the desert.

In the failing light, he was still able to find several reeds that fit her description, and he thought he could make something workable with twine for now and figure out a way to make it more sturdy when he got back to the domus in the Luxium. They didn't take more than he needed, and he harvested as she bade him do, so the oasis ought not to be any the worse off for his having been there. When the light well and truly began to fail, they gathered up their bounty and returned to the fire. There was more light there for the continued work. While he had repaired his lute, he had never made an instrument from scratch before. This felt like another sort of adventure and it was delightful.

They settled in just as Raithen was asking a question about Arvælyn's background. Thankfully, Finn had faith in his lover's ability to play his role so there was nary a twang in his symphony. He glanced occasionally at the brothers whose brotherhood had not yet been revealed, but otherwise kept his eyes on his work with occasional glances at what Hilana was doing.

"We're going to have to wander away from them for lessons, eh? Lest my sour notes drive them off for good."

Finn smiled in self-deprecation; he might be skilled at music in general, but a new instrument was a new instrument and he hadn't played a thing like this since he was a child and then only in passing.

"Then eventually we'll be able to charm cobras like they do in the market."

He offered a bit of chaff he had stripped off a reed to the curious dark jumping mouse, who seemed uncertain whether to stuff it into its mouth or not.

[Arvælyn]

Arvælyn was obliging and pleased to take instruction from Raithen. They were family, even if the Avialæ seemed unaware of that fact. Phocion and Cithæra had both spoken of the other bastard son since the chance meeting of the baseborn boys on the day the Mists descended on Solunarium, and it had been explained that he was a mercenary off on missions abroad of the capital. It seemed they hadn't had a chance to fill him on on recent events since his return, and it also seemed that he hadn't adopted his mother's Rune of Semblance, or Arry suspected he'd have been able to ascertain their connection by this point. The wingless one might have suspected this was some sort of joke or test, but Raithen's Symphony showed no signs of such. Even so, this was Solunarium, and it was altogether possible he was covertly wearing some necklace or bracelet designed to obscure the scrutiny of Mesmers.

At first, Arry sort of played along with the manual labour of it all, but then when Raithen began to employ his Rune of Kinetics, he knitted his brow.

"Oh, we're doing that?" And he practised the Craft in which Phocion had served as his devoted pædagogus to manipulate the materials with no need of callouses. For the first part of the effort, Arry actually seemed more adept than his instructor in the Craft though, perhaps struck by a competitive streak, the other golden boy seemed to rise to the occasion and match his aptitude with the æther.

Later, when they were gathered by the fire, he felt oddly nostalgic for Antiris. He had no great love of the realm of his rearing, but some of the few times he'd felt at peace were spent around a fire eating whatever could be scraped together by the best approximation of family he had at the time. That's what this felt like. Not some overcomplicated haute cuisine meticulously designed and enchanted to surpass the taste of food in its natural state, but something nourishing, utilitarian and relatively simple. After a fashion, he thought Hilana was the better chef (and his Finn an estimable sous chef) for doing more with fewer frills.

As the last spoonful crossed his chops, he sighed contentedly and place the bowl and utensil onto the sand between himself and Finn, ears perking as Raithen addressed him from the other side of the fire.

"Hm? Oh, I was just thinking about that, actually. I was raised in Antiris." He replied with a little smile that might have come off coquettish, though it was actually out of embarrassment. He knew how peregrini were perceived and he didn't have any great pride of the slums he once haunted thousands of miles to the Northwest.

As Raithen drew nearer, there was something in his expression that felt familiar to Arvælyn and a quick dip into the surface layers of his Symphony was enough to confirm it. His mouth formed an 'o' shape unconsciously, and he glanced away, running a hand through his hair. Now he was consciously coquettish, albeit a bit perplexed with the scenario. If a sibling had ever flirted with him before it had been Phocion, who was a sight subtler than the one with the wings. Whatever the case, his Northern sensibilities gave him a marked aversion to incest, and his monogamous inclinations made him look frequently to Finn during the exchange to broadcast nothing untoward was going on or would. He also felt at an odd an uncomfortable advantage, knowing what he did about their background, so eventually he leaned in to whisper:

"You know I'm your half brother, don't you?" He cringed apologetically, and immediately wished they'd brought aught other than water, that their nerves might be assuaged along with their dry throats. In lieu of other intimate pastimes, Arvælyn asked Raithen whether he might lead them in a Waning Prayer before bed, but then took his usual place in Finn's arms when it came time to actually sleep.

~ ~ ~

The sun was setting on the next day by the time they reached what remained of the village of Vectria. The huts that rounded the oasis were crushed, not burnt, and though there were deep dips carved craterously into the ground, the sands were too loose to gather any detail from these ditches. One could only ascertain that something very large had left them.

There was no sign of wyvern acid amongst the splinters that comprised the debris, and there were no corpses to be found- Even after hours were spent digging through detritus in search of remains. After they'd made their investigations, the they would be able to freshen their water skins and take refuge on the banks of a freshwater pond surrounded by palms as night descended.

► Show Spoiler

And when all of them had laid down, hoping for sleep to claim them, they would be jostled by a quaking of the sands and a rumbling growl that billowed through the night breeze from the very skies above them. As they scrambled to peer through the flaps of the tent, they would see it. A colossal silhouette, humanoid in shape, framed by the crimson moon as its single eye gleamed with the reflection of its silver lunar counterpart. A gargantuan cylcops stalked toward the oasis, though what thirst it sought to sate remained to be seen...

[Raithen]

The words Arvælyn said made sense, they 'clicked' somewhere inside him and put meaning to the connection he'd felt, not instantly, but almost, between them. It wasn't truth in his head, and wouldn't be until he heard his mother confirm it. It would be his mother, unless someone had mutilated the wings from this potential new sibling, but Raithen dismissed that idea off hand. There was too much of Cithæra about the person sitting beside him, too much of Phocion to deny the resemblance.

His response, when it came was to perk a brow and make his smile a little blander than the flirtatious it had been up till then.

"If that bothers you, I apologize." He didn't seem abashed or ashamed even in his symphony, for, in his own mind, he'd done nothing wrong. With a simple nod he stood, stretched comfortably and then went to fetch the bedding from the camel and fill the tent with as much comfort as they'd brought along.

They took watches, but with four of them they were bad, and when he went to relieve Hilana of hers he'd also pulled her into the shadows under the palms for a few minutes to 'discuss' how much he appreciated her cooking and care. The whole night passed without incident beyond that and they set off again in the morning.

He spent more of the next day walking beside the riding three and their mount than he had the first day, for there was less chance to sentient danger this far out, and most animal attackers knew better than to hunt near the road. When they neared their destination he rose on high to investigate but didn't swoop down to get a closer look when he saw now immediate people in need, instead returning so the group could approach and head in together. Once they had spent all that remained of day light searching for answers, and none had come, Rai slipped briefly into the pond to get the sand off his feathers and hair, literally fluffing through the water like a bathing bird before coming back to the shore and shaking his wings hard to dry them before folding them.

The group was quieter the second night, frustrated and tired, but nothing came of it but a hasty meal and settling down. His eyes had just closed when he felt the ground shaking under him. Earth quacks were not unknown in a land of active volcanoes, but he knew what those felt like, and this was not the same thing.

Pushing out of their tent it took his sleepy mind a long moment to fully understand what he was seeing. He had seen cyclops before but nothing anywhere near to the size of this one. Taking a slow a breath through his nose that he tried, and only partly succeeded in making slow enough to be steadying instead of a gasp he pushed the instant and instinctive fear down and raised other instincts to replace it.

"Hilana," He said, voice calmer than he was, but soon his insides would match what he was projecting, "Get Hayima’el and ride hard, a few miles back the way we came. If no one comes for you in a couple of hours, or if you hear the cyclops coming, keep going till you get back to the city and warn Sentinel Phocion."

His polearm had been left resting just outside the tent and he snatched it up as he turned from the woman to his little band of fighters. Finn, he knew, could keep himself from being stepped on if he was paying attention, slipping to where he wanted to be along the same aether streams Raithen used to pull things to himself or throw them away. He did not know what, if any, tricks his newest brother might have, but he trusted that they would be sufficient, else the brother he'd grown up with would not have sent him. With a fighting force so small, of diverse talent, giving specific orders did not feel needed, but he did turn and flash a smile that walked the line between reassuring and vicious at the other two men and said,

"Don't die. I'll try and help with that." Before launching himself high, high into the air. On the way he scooped up a good deal of sand in his Kinetic grip and pulled a dozen flechettes out of their pouch. The poison on them likely wasn't enough to work effectively on something so very large, but they might at least distract or upset the beast.

When he was up high enough that he was above the massive creature he spent a brief moment marveling at it's magnificence before offering the prayer of thanksgiving and offering to his gods that always proceeded (or in rare cases when he didn't have time before, was given during) his taking life not needed to sustain himself. He did not let himself get within what he estimated was arms reach but instead sent the whole group of tiny, multi-pointed knives flying in a corkscrew pattern into the largest eye he'd ever seen with his own. They sunk in, and, for a moment nothing seemed to happen, then he flicked his hand and the shrapnel that had been swirling inside the beast spun back out with a sound that was somewhere between a pop and a splash as it's eye came apart and it threw back its head and screamed.

The sand he fanned into a cloud and sent it spitting like a storm to surround the creature's head, hopefully obscuring and confusing its other senses enough that it wouldn't be able to stop whatever Finn and Arvaelyn were planning. Raithen hoped they were planning, because, shy of flying in himself and attempting to use his pole arm to cut the cyclops' throat, he didn't have one for killing it.

[Hilana Chenzira]

“We probably should,” Hilana admitted to Finn as he suggested they move off a bit. “Sometimes the notes can get a bit... well, interesting... when you are first learning.” With the two of them moved off a bit further, Hilana settled on her knees in the sands in front of him. “What you’ve forgotten about music is more than I know,” she admitted. “But the secret to the syrinx is controlling your breath and your lips. You’ve got strong lungs, you’re a bard and you’re used to performing, and we’ve been in the sands enough for me to know your stamina is good. So you’re going to close your lips almost completely, but leave a small opening from which you can direct air,” the girl demonstrated, and let out a low, sustained breath into one of the tubes of her syrinx, producing a soft, sustained note. She stopped, though, lowering her syrinx, her eyes intent on his face. The Kalzasern native knew already that she was an enthusiastic teacher if anything, and anything worth doing was worth doing with gusto.

“It’ll be funny at first, but you will get the hang of it. If it produces a squawk, so what? We just keep practicing.” When he was ready, they could go back and forth with it, one note at a time, before transitioning into two. “You hardly need a syrinx to charm a cobra,” she was amused. “You do that pretty easily. You charmed Hayima’el, after all,” the camel lifted his head from his pail of water at the mention of his name, looking over at his favourite bard. “No, no, stay there,” Hilana shook her head at him. “We will go for the last walk after.” Hayima’el regarded her, but picked up one of his prickly pears from his wooden platter to crunch it. Such a good boy.

Before they had gotten started, Hilana had set the cake to warming and the water for the tea to boil. She did pause the lesson once to set the tea to steeping before coming back to him and resuming where they had left off. When Finn had had enough - and she figured that their companions likely had, too - it was time to stop. Hilana dished out slices of the warmed honey cake, studded as it was with pieces of dates and chopped walnuts, the honey glaze having warmed up enough to be shiny even in the firelight. It was served with warmly-spiced tea; not so much as to make it aggressive, but enough to counteract the sweetness of the cake. She offered to watch through the night, because she could have a bit of a rest in the morning and be good to go for the rest of the day, but when shifts were decided upon, she was fine with that, too. She did take Hayima’el for one final walk along the perimeter once she tidied up the dishes from the dessert and made sure everyone was good for tea and let him settle down once more, and while he would sleep outside the tent, he was at least good company for whomever was doing the watch. There were fronds still to feed the fire with as needed.

When Raithen came out to relieve her, Hilana smiled up at him, following him off to the palms away from the tent, her arms going up around his neck, and all too happy to talk with him. Once they returned to the fire, though, she elected to stay up with him, tucking herself against him and investigating his wings in the firelight. Gentle fingers explored his feathers, and what else they could, but she was quiet enough not to disturb those still within the tent... all while very much enjoying herself with the Avialae in the light of the fire.

By the time Finn and Arvaelyn were up, Hilana had breakfast rolling. She’d elected to go heavier on the protein to make sure it was more filling and they had plenty to go on over the course of the day. Dried beef that had been cured with a number of spices, like cumin, fenugreek, garlic, and paprika, was heated up in a pan of clarified butter with a number of eggs that she had wrapped individually earlier with fabric and placed in a pouch to protect them. The butter reconstituted the beef somewhat, giving it a texture similar to bacon, and the meal was rounded out with more warmed flatbreads and mugs of tea. Dishes were done while the camp was broken down, Hilana packed and stacked and resecured their bags and bundles to the camel, adjusting the way she had the packs attached in order to make a makeshift seat for Raithen to perch upon in the event he got tired of flying and walking.

A few hours less of sleep didn’t seem to have much impact on the Vastiana, because she was much the same as she had been the day before. Talkative when the others were up to hearing it, quiet if they were relaxed or zoning out, but she could also tell them about half the people in Vectris, apparently. Who did what, who was related to who, what sort of trade went in and out of the little village. Wildlife if they spotted it, and she would still grab and harvest as they made their way along the road. They had snacks when they stopped for a break and rest; dates, a rather firm cheese, buns, and water. She did spot something she’d mentioned to Arvaelyn and Finn before, as a golden-brown bird moving in the sands and hunting for its meal. Aside from its lighter colouring, it did resemble the northern turkeys that they were used to. She cupped her hands to her mouth and made a gobbling sound, undulating with her tongue and when it answered back with a similar sound, it froze before taking off. “Sandcock. Good eating,” she explained, and when Finn was so kind as to bring it back with Mesmer, the girl was well pleased with it. It wasn’t the biggest bird, but for the four of them, it would do for a few meals. Besides, when they were younger, they tended to be more tender and better eating while on the road.

She was disappointed to see the remnants of Vectria, her usually cheerful countenance faded to grim solemnity as they searched for survivors, calling out names and moving amongst the remains of buildings with her collapsible shovel and using Hayima’el and rope to haul and move things as needed while the Kineticists were busy. She was not above scavenging for additional supplies to bolster their own, either. Their owners had gone to Founders knew where, the village was a wreck, and there were no tracks in the sands from which to try to figure out where they’d gone, much less whether they would ever return. They may as well make use of them. There was no wyvern acid to be found, much to her surprise, but whatever had done so much damage had been big. And Hilana really hoped it wasn't a roving band of Cyclopes.

When they settled by the pond, Hilana repeated the unpacking process once again, and then set to work with the unnaturally calm bird. For someone who loved animals as much as Hilana did, she had zero problems dispatching the sandcock for a meal. It was promptly killed, plucked, butchered, carved, and portioned into a bowl with a quick marinade of oil and spices while she broke down vegetables. The pot of couscous was finished before the pan of seasoned poultry went on closest to the fire, and just above it were the vegetables that were set to roasting: two types of squashes, potatoes, onions, and carrots were cut down and tossed in oil and spices and put in a lidded pot to cook while Hilana tended to the sandcock. The meat was cooked in batches; cooked through and left to rest and cool so that it would be ready for them in the morrow as well.

Dinner was followed by more tea and the remnants of the cake for dessert, but the atmosphere was definitely dampened compared to the prior night. Still, Hilana had settled outside the tent and rested against Hayima’el, watching the fire when she felt the earth shaking. Whatever was coming was big, and it may very well have been what happened to the village. “Raithen. Arvaelyn. Finn,” she spoke just loud enough, but there was an urgency to her voice. The girl never spoke that way, but she did now as she leaned to part the tent flap before getting up, one hand on her camel’s shoulder. The piebald bull was growling, and Hilana looked on. Her symphony went haywire as carefully managed and controlled energy reacted to the colossus that was coming towards the pond. But it was excitement, adrenaline, and definitely an undercurrent of nervous energy. She’d seen enough of them in the Ports, had heard the stories all her life, and had seen wild ones a time or three. But this one was gargantuan, and she wondered if the old methods would even work on it.

She didn’t argue with Raithen’s instructions. He was her head wolf for this excursion, but she didn’t like leaving her pack. She opened one of the bags, grabbing vials of a pale purple liquid and distributing them amongst her friends. “If you’re injured, if you overgive, drink it. Bandages and supplies are here,” she left them by the tent, and grabbed the larger machete she had packed. But she gave the quick run-down to Finn and Arvaelyn about the monster coming their way. She and Raithen were used to them, but the Sub-Vigils... “They can see well in front of them. They have poor peripheral vision. They look slow but they are faster than they look. Don’t get too cocky about it, your best defense is to stay out of range. Be nimble and sharp. Their eye is their weak spot. If you catch blind it, it will usually give in. Here’s the machete; their feet are vascular... especially if you can work it in between the toes.” She hadn't missed Arvaelyn's use of that craft the other night while the tent was being assembled, apparently. Something struck her then as she made her way over to the camel, climbing up onto the saddle. “You are Master-level Mesmers. You can try charming it. It may not work because of its size, but most Cyclopes are able to speak rudimentary Vastian. You can try to interrogate it if you can subdue it. Up, Hayima’el.”

The camel got up, with the girl on his back. Hilana moved her position from sitting astride to forming a triangle with her legs on the padded saddle, shifting her weight down, holding onto the front bar. The camel was snorting, not happy at all about this, but he trusted his rider. “Be safe. Founders guide your aim, and may They watch over you. You had better come and find me. Do. Not. Die.” Her dark eyes looked from Avialae to half-Elf to Human. She urged Hayima’el into a gallop, low in the saddle as the big beast took off, her skirts streaming out behind her from the movement. Every instinct within her, every last strand of Wildness, screamed at her about abandoning her friends. But orders were orders, and if there was one thing that her guardians had drilled into her from the time she had been dropped off into their care until the time she had had to submit and return to Tertium for her formal training... it was that in all that the law of the desert leaves open, the word of your head wolf was law. She trusted them, and she had implicit faith in their abilities. The strength of the Pack is the Wolf, and the strength of the Wolf is the Pack...

She made her way out a couple miles down as instructed, moving back into a seated position, stroking Hayima'el's neck and flanks with her feet, looking back towards the pond. Hilana kept her senses open still, looking on and around her, not to mention above, in hopes that in the distance, she didn't set herself up to be a target of some other predator lurking at night. In the meantime, though, she began to pray, urging the strength of Deus Avaerys and the cunning and foresight of Domina Varvara to be conveyed upon her friends.

[Finn]

The journey didn't bother Finn. While he wasn't an avid outdoorsman, he had been learning about the desert from Hilana for some time now and was able to put what he had learned to good use. They were far from the intrigue of Solunarium, and he was able to relax for the first time in a long time. There was new music to learn, and he got to sleep with Arvælyn in his arms, his nose tucked into golden hair that had taken on the scent of the sun and the sand over the bouquet that had become so familiar.

Even the mysterious work at the ruins of Vectria wasn't terrible, as a lack of corpses gave him at least a sliver of hope that people had survived. The thrum through the earth made him mutter in his sleep, and the growl woke up up fully. Then they were afoot and everything was moving so fast. Hilana handed him a tonic, the which he thanked her for. He took in her wisdom and nodded, and then she was mounting Hayima'el and off toward safety.

Raithen was already in the sky, and Finn almost wished he had the same Rune as him, the better to attack from a safe distance. He looked to Arvælyn and said, "Don't fucking die."

With that, he loosed his sword and ran toward danger like an idiot hero from one of his songs.

The Avialae took out the eye with deadly precision, and Finn didn't know whether to take Hilana's advice at this point or not. Their leader had chosen violence, but he supposed Arvælyn could attempt to mesmerize while he helped distract. Between the toes seemed like an awfully difficult target to hit, however, so once the loss of its eye sent its foot back for purchase, he blinked behind, swiped his sword across the back of its heel in an attempt to sever the tendon and bring it to its knees, and then blinked to safety much farther away, behind it and out of range.

From there, his eyes darted between the members of his cohort to ensure their safety and then back to the cyclops to see whether his attack had had any effect or whether he should make another pass at hobbling it.

It was a monster, he told himself over and over, a litany against compassion.