Ouch.
Posted: Thu Apr 07, 2022 8:12 pm
25 Glade 122
Once departing the company of Xidia the day before after being greeted at the gates and offered her first instruction, Yeva had to face the reality of her new situation. Ecith was, in every sense, a challenge for the delicate elf. Her mind, body, and soul were to be tested on this pilgrimage, but it was only until she began the trek up the stairs that such a statement really began to sink in. The more she learned about the region, the more she realized how ill-fitted a novice like herself was in comparison. It would be easy to grow disheartened, but Yeva was, more times than not, a competitive woman, as seen when trying to stand out among her siblings growing up, and even more recently, at the drinking competition back in Zaichaer. She did not admit defeat easily, even when odds were against her.
With any luck, that trait would push her towards growth though adaptation. Fates, she couldn't even imagine going back to Franky and Dalma with her tail between her legs! It was simply out of the question, not after all the faith they had placed in her. The couple had strangely become parental figures to the young woman and she would sooner jump into the sea than give let them down.
Of course... that was before she had started climbing the stairs.
Her conversation with Xidia might have inspired her, and there were so many sights and smells to explore after parting ways at the docks, that she didn't fully realize the magnitude of the task in front of her until she was looking at the incline before her, each step decorated, all the way up until they seemingly disappeared into the sky, "Excuse me," she waved down a passing orc with braided hair and green eyes. He wore a loincloth and both arms were covered in white markings that stood out against his dark blue skin, "The Unseeing Temple is...?" her voice trailed off, stiffening as he reached towards her and pinched the tip of her ear between his thumb and forefinger.
She stepped back, surprised, and lifted a hand to cup it over the pointed tip, "Hey!"
He seemed to be considering something, his gaze heavy as he took the opportunity to eye Yeva from head to toe, "Dratori?"
"No," she wasn't sure what to do, caught off guard by the inquiry, "Hytori."
His chin lifted, "Ah," he ran a hand along his jaw in thought, "You are short."
"And you're blue!" she snapped back, flustered by the whole experience.
He grinned, "And you are red."
"Could you please just answer the question?" she pleaded, trying not to think about Xidia's interpretation about her blushing, or of Raura's compliment to her fiery hair. Yeva was beginning to notice how blunt Orkan could be.
His smile broadened, flashing large tusks. He lifted a hand and pointed upward, "At the top of Jakon's Tail."
"Wait, what?"
The orc laughed and continued towards the stairs himself. Yeva's heart sunk and she hurried after him, yanking her luggage in tow and barely getting to the second step before the corner of her suitcase got caught and she was jerked backward. When she caught it and looked up, he had continued jogging onward, up at least ten stairs by the time she composed herself, "Like all the way at the top?" she shouted after him, given her one last glance and another deep laugh that did not seem hindered at all by his physical exercise.
Yeva turned away and tried not to look as disheartened as she felt.
"Alright," she muttered after a moment. The redhead exhaled, nodding in resolve, "I can do this. I can..." she looked back, seeing the blue orc had covered a great distance now. Beyond him, she had no idea how far the trail went, "-climb to the heavens. Where else would a demigod reside?"
It was time to test Hytori pride. One step at a time.
Pride and physical limitations were two very different things.
Xidia had instructed her first of three things: Service, Autonomy, and Pursuit. Yeva imagined this challenge fell largely under the third, and tried to even her breath with every stair, lifting her luggage with her knees to join her on the next ledge, over and over and over and over and-
She was breathless. The sun might have been enjoyable for everyone around her, but she felt herself sweating in the humidity, stray curls sticking to back of her neck. She paused to tie her hair in a top knot, rolling her shoulders and pausing to stretch before her body punished her even more than it already intended to. She reached towards the sky and massaged her neck and thighs before continuing. Others moved past her with ease, many carrying even larger packs than she did as they ran. Each step was steeper than any she would experience back home, but she kept pushing, taking her time to pause and admire the etchings on the stone, beautiful carvings that seemed to be seeped in extensive history. When she needed to pause for longer stints, she would often sit in the closest shade and trace her fingers along the markings and imagined the effort that must have gone into each picture. By the time she reached the second landing and thought she might die of thirst, Yeva purchased a refreshment from a drink vendor and took the break to look over a list of vocabulary in her primer. Stairs was a word entirely made with vowels - Oeaio. Which, after practicing the word under her breathe, it reminded her of the sound one must make when their body was in agony. Maybe it was where Common derived the word, ow.
Very on brand.
Yeva pocketed her journal and primer and continued each time the stitch in her side dulled, only to fall victim of her physical weakness shortly after, "Ugh," The miles stretched on, but as the day progressed and the sun continued to inch across the sky, she wasn't sure of the distance covered. When she looked down, she felt she had climbed for ages, but when she looked onward, the length of stairs seemed never ending, winding beautifully around the rich city, having heard each landing unique and different than the last. In another introduction, Yeva would have loved the chance to observe the differences but old habits of shame still controlled her. Around her, orcs of various dress (and usually nothing at all) lounged and sang and danced and ate and wrestled and ran. Skin to skin everywhere, there seemed to be few benches around the city, instead replaced by large cushions that many lounged upon. It was more nudity than the young elf had seen in her entire life, and to stay focused, she kept her gaze firmly affixed to her sandals.
That wasn't to say every embrace was deviant in nature. Many were innocent enough; mother's washing children, a group of friends sharing drinks, the throwing of bone dice and raucous merriment. Every time she lifted her eyes, Yeva saw how physically and culturally different the orkan were to the other races of Idalos. It was especially prevalent when the evening was nearing and her muscles shook from her journey. Was she even remotely closer? The end was no where in sight and she stumbled as her legs threatened to give out beneath her. Her body hurt and every step brought a sharper pain than the one before it, like the piercing of a knife.
"Aargh," the sound was involuntary, as she dropped to her knees. The stone edge racked into her shin and she had to clench her teeth from crying out and drawing attention to herself. She gripped the step, humming in pain and took broken gasps to withhold the pain. Yeva tucked her face into the crook of her arm to hide her face and laid there, feeling defeated.
Don't cry. Don't cry. Don't cry...
She was hot, sweaty, and ravenous... and in so much pain.
She needed rest. Up above, she could see the third landing and it was only a small inspiration. Yeva's legs shook as she tried to take her next step, frustration sparking hatred.
This damn luggage, she seethed, sucking in bladed air, trying (and failing) to yank the hard case behind her. At last, the redhead's composure snapped and she ripped open the luggage's clasps to drag fistfuls of clothing out, hitting the ground repeatedly with a fury of dresses and slacks. By the end of the display, her chest was heaving and she sat down on the stairs, resuming her feelings of defeat. She could only imagine the opinions of any witnesses. Next to her, a pile of colorful fabric was discarded and she swore she would melt in the heat. Curls sticking to her face, she laid atop the opened suitcase and clenched her jaw.
She continued to rest as orcs came and went, some slowing or moving around the mess. She knew she needed to keep going to avoid being a burden, but when she looked upwards, the stairs continued without an end in sight. Did children really run the length without pause? Inconceivable!
[Yeva throws away stuff.
She gets to the third landing.
Finds the inn.
Books lodging.]
Once departing the company of Xidia the day before after being greeted at the gates and offered her first instruction, Yeva had to face the reality of her new situation. Ecith was, in every sense, a challenge for the delicate elf. Her mind, body, and soul were to be tested on this pilgrimage, but it was only until she began the trek up the stairs that such a statement really began to sink in. The more she learned about the region, the more she realized how ill-fitted a novice like herself was in comparison. It would be easy to grow disheartened, but Yeva was, more times than not, a competitive woman, as seen when trying to stand out among her siblings growing up, and even more recently, at the drinking competition back in Zaichaer. She did not admit defeat easily, even when odds were against her.
With any luck, that trait would push her towards growth though adaptation. Fates, she couldn't even imagine going back to Franky and Dalma with her tail between her legs! It was simply out of the question, not after all the faith they had placed in her. The couple had strangely become parental figures to the young woman and she would sooner jump into the sea than give let them down.
Of course... that was before she had started climbing the stairs.
Her conversation with Xidia might have inspired her, and there were so many sights and smells to explore after parting ways at the docks, that she didn't fully realize the magnitude of the task in front of her until she was looking at the incline before her, each step decorated, all the way up until they seemingly disappeared into the sky, "Excuse me," she waved down a passing orc with braided hair and green eyes. He wore a loincloth and both arms were covered in white markings that stood out against his dark blue skin, "The Unseeing Temple is...?" her voice trailed off, stiffening as he reached towards her and pinched the tip of her ear between his thumb and forefinger.
She stepped back, surprised, and lifted a hand to cup it over the pointed tip, "Hey!"
He seemed to be considering something, his gaze heavy as he took the opportunity to eye Yeva from head to toe, "Dratori?"
"No," she wasn't sure what to do, caught off guard by the inquiry, "Hytori."
His chin lifted, "Ah," he ran a hand along his jaw in thought, "You are short."
"And you're blue!" she snapped back, flustered by the whole experience.
He grinned, "And you are red."
"Could you please just answer the question?" she pleaded, trying not to think about Xidia's interpretation about her blushing, or of Raura's compliment to her fiery hair. Yeva was beginning to notice how blunt Orkan could be.
His smile broadened, flashing large tusks. He lifted a hand and pointed upward, "At the top of Jakon's Tail."
"Wait, what?"
The orc laughed and continued towards the stairs himself. Yeva's heart sunk and she hurried after him, yanking her luggage in tow and barely getting to the second step before the corner of her suitcase got caught and she was jerked backward. When she caught it and looked up, he had continued jogging onward, up at least ten stairs by the time she composed herself, "Like all the way at the top?" she shouted after him, given her one last glance and another deep laugh that did not seem hindered at all by his physical exercise.
Yeva turned away and tried not to look as disheartened as she felt.
"Alright," she muttered after a moment. The redhead exhaled, nodding in resolve, "I can do this. I can..." she looked back, seeing the blue orc had covered a great distance now. Beyond him, she had no idea how far the trail went, "-climb to the heavens. Where else would a demigod reside?"
It was time to test Hytori pride. One step at a time.
***
Pride and physical limitations were two very different things.
Xidia had instructed her first of three things: Service, Autonomy, and Pursuit. Yeva imagined this challenge fell largely under the third, and tried to even her breath with every stair, lifting her luggage with her knees to join her on the next ledge, over and over and over and over and-
She was breathless. The sun might have been enjoyable for everyone around her, but she felt herself sweating in the humidity, stray curls sticking to back of her neck. She paused to tie her hair in a top knot, rolling her shoulders and pausing to stretch before her body punished her even more than it already intended to. She reached towards the sky and massaged her neck and thighs before continuing. Others moved past her with ease, many carrying even larger packs than she did as they ran. Each step was steeper than any she would experience back home, but she kept pushing, taking her time to pause and admire the etchings on the stone, beautiful carvings that seemed to be seeped in extensive history. When she needed to pause for longer stints, she would often sit in the closest shade and trace her fingers along the markings and imagined the effort that must have gone into each picture. By the time she reached the second landing and thought she might die of thirst, Yeva purchased a refreshment from a drink vendor and took the break to look over a list of vocabulary in her primer. Stairs was a word entirely made with vowels - Oeaio. Which, after practicing the word under her breathe, it reminded her of the sound one must make when their body was in agony. Maybe it was where Common derived the word, ow.
Very on brand.
Yeva pocketed her journal and primer and continued each time the stitch in her side dulled, only to fall victim of her physical weakness shortly after, "Ugh," The miles stretched on, but as the day progressed and the sun continued to inch across the sky, she wasn't sure of the distance covered. When she looked down, she felt she had climbed for ages, but when she looked onward, the length of stairs seemed never ending, winding beautifully around the rich city, having heard each landing unique and different than the last. In another introduction, Yeva would have loved the chance to observe the differences but old habits of shame still controlled her. Around her, orcs of various dress (and usually nothing at all) lounged and sang and danced and ate and wrestled and ran. Skin to skin everywhere, there seemed to be few benches around the city, instead replaced by large cushions that many lounged upon. It was more nudity than the young elf had seen in her entire life, and to stay focused, she kept her gaze firmly affixed to her sandals.
That wasn't to say every embrace was deviant in nature. Many were innocent enough; mother's washing children, a group of friends sharing drinks, the throwing of bone dice and raucous merriment. Every time she lifted her eyes, Yeva saw how physically and culturally different the orkan were to the other races of Idalos. It was especially prevalent when the evening was nearing and her muscles shook from her journey. Was she even remotely closer? The end was no where in sight and she stumbled as her legs threatened to give out beneath her. Her body hurt and every step brought a sharper pain than the one before it, like the piercing of a knife.
"Aargh," the sound was involuntary, as she dropped to her knees. The stone edge racked into her shin and she had to clench her teeth from crying out and drawing attention to herself. She gripped the step, humming in pain and took broken gasps to withhold the pain. Yeva tucked her face into the crook of her arm to hide her face and laid there, feeling defeated.
Don't cry. Don't cry. Don't cry...
She was hot, sweaty, and ravenous... and in so much pain.
She needed rest. Up above, she could see the third landing and it was only a small inspiration. Yeva's legs shook as she tried to take her next step, frustration sparking hatred.
This damn luggage, she seethed, sucking in bladed air, trying (and failing) to yank the hard case behind her. At last, the redhead's composure snapped and she ripped open the luggage's clasps to drag fistfuls of clothing out, hitting the ground repeatedly with a fury of dresses and slacks. By the end of the display, her chest was heaving and she sat down on the stairs, resuming her feelings of defeat. She could only imagine the opinions of any witnesses. Next to her, a pile of colorful fabric was discarded and she swore she would melt in the heat. Curls sticking to her face, she laid atop the opened suitcase and clenched her jaw.
She continued to rest as orcs came and went, some slowing or moving around the mess. She knew she needed to keep going to avoid being a burden, but when she looked upwards, the stairs continued without an end in sight. Did children really run the length without pause? Inconceivable!
[Yeva throws away stuff.
She gets to the third landing.
Finds the inn.
Books lodging.]