Spirits of the Earth

The wind whipped furiously through the sky, blowing the clouds in a swirling whirlwind of clouds and salt.  Waves crashed from dangerous heights of thirty to fifty feet as the sea roared angrily.  The sky replied with just as much vexation as its thunderous reply echoed through the open, raging sea.  Slowly large drops of rain began to fall.  The fight between the sea and sky continued to rage with the added bonus of more water being added to the terrible waves that crested and broke with the sound of a million horses running across the earth in a frantic flight from something terrible.

A large ship bounced between the waves as one after another the deck was bombarded by fridged ocean water.  The wind pulled forcefully at the unfurled sails that strained against their rope, dragging the heavy ship with so much speed that the wooden vessel groaned with each passing second.  Every man aboard were fighting to lower the sails in a desperate attempt to stop the suicidal race of their craft.  Blisters formed on their calloused palms as time and time again the thick ropes were pulled from their hands by the winds swirling fingers.

The storm had come upon the crew with such speed that there had been no time for preparations, no time to lower the sails and simply ride out the worst of the sea's anger.  Now they were trapped, the sails would not come down and the wood of the ship began to pull apart at the seams, allowing water to fill the lower decks, slowly adding weight to the already too heavy ship.

"Cap'in!"  A throroughly drenched man cried racing up the steps to the wheel where the Captain stood, trying desperately to steer the ship out of the sea's deathly clutches, "Cap'in, we need t'loose the cargo!"

"No man!" came the reply, "It too too long t'get tha' booty!  I ain't 'bout t'let 'er go!"

"It's weighin' down th'ship, Cap'in!  We'll be sunk fer sure if ye keep it!"  The main did not seem to hear above the wind, and just the same his resolve would not have changed.  The Captain was obsessed about treasure, as most pirates were, but it seemed that he valued it above even his life and the life of his crew.

"Damnit t'hell!" The first mate shouted as he clawed his way back down the stairs to help his fellow men pul the sails down.  The wind had picked up speed and it felt as if the waves had grown taller in the last few minutes.  There was no way the ship would last through such a storm as this!  The planks were groaning under the stress and already a few railings had been torn away by the vicious waves that smothered the crew with each breaking wave.

"Zarak!" A man called to the first mate from his position on a length of rope that was about to tear itself from his fingers.  Zarak grabbed onto the rail and hurried over, hanging on for his dear life as another wave crashed onto his head, knocking the air from his lungs as he clung to the side of the ship.  Once the water subsided he took a long drink of the salt filled air and continued his walk until he could reach out and grab the rope.

"Any luck wit th' cap'in?" The man shouted over the roar of the storm as Zarak and he pulled with all their strength at the main sail, praying to water God was listening that they would make it through this.

"Notta damn ounce." Came the shouted reply, "'e's far too 'appy with'is gold t'care 'bout 'is ship!"  Another large crashing wave cut their conversation short and ripped the rope from their fingers flinging both men to the edge of the ship.  With a cry the other man was pulled over the edge and swallowed by the angry waves.  Zarak almost met the same fate but only luck allowed him to find a rail to hang onto before the water pulled him into the thrashing sea.  With his quickly draining strength, Zarak pulled himself over the side and back onto the ship.

But he would not be safe for long.

With a deafening scream, the wooden mast could not hold itself against the wind any longer.  The wooden log splintered and cracked then fell with a snap onto the deck.  It was the last bit that the poor battered vessel could take as the planks groaned in one last effort to stay together before breaking apart, sending the entire crew into the angry waves with screams of fear.

Zarak was flung into the roaring waves.

Water filled his eyes, his nose and went into every crevese of his clothes, weighing him down.  Every time he found the surface, another wave pushed him down beneath the surface, suffocating him with its watery clutches.  His lungs were screaming, his strength failing but he had been tossed around so much that he no longer knew which way was up and which way was down.  He didn't know where he was, or what direction he could swim in to hopefully find land, to find some part of the ship he could use as a raft.

He panicked as he flailed his arms and legs in a last desperate attempt to reach the surface, to get some air.  Sending up prayers he hoped that at least one of the Gods he had learned about on his seaward travels was real enough to help him!

With one last kick he was surprised to find his head break the surface.  Gasping for air he brushed the water from his eyes and looked around, trying to find something, anything that could help him stay above the water.  The ocean was cold and his toes were nearly numb.  He knew that he would not be able to hold himself afloat much longer.

Like a miracle a large scrap of wood brushed against his fingers and he swum frantically toward it, drapping his upper torso over the wooden splinter of the large ship he had once been the first mate on.

He didn't know how long he drifted, how long ago the storm had ended, but his feet brushed ground.  Looking up through salt crusted eyes he was surprised to find a large beach right before him.  He had been drifting in and out of consciousness over the past few hours...or days....he no longer knew.  All he knew was that land meant water and his tongue was swollen from lack of that one substance.  His skin was wrinkled from being submerged in water for so long.  His dark blonde hair lay in a curled wet mass against his face as he abandoned the wooden craft and began to wade desperately toward the beach.

Upon reaching the sandy edge Zarak's strength failed and he collapsed against the ground, falling into an exhausted, water deprived sleep.

[Oh, I'm bad...'nother character...oi...]

The water was warm and soothing as Kiyan waded through the calm bay, a pocketknife in one hand and a hand-woven basket in the other as he headed out toward the many large rocks and boulders that bordered the cliffs. It was the perfect season for gathering mussels, and the rocks were just teeming with their sparkling shells, glinting in the sunlight. There was plenty to go around, and a good day's picking would provide a tasty feast. It was slow work, sliding the blade of his knife under each creature and prying it off the rock it clung to, one after the other, one at a time, but the work was well worth the reward, and by the time his arm started getting tired from the tedious work, he had a basket full of food. An easy meal, really; much easier than fishing, which required a lot more waiting and patience than Kiyan liked. Besides, mussels just tasted better, and unlike with most fish bones, you could make things from their shells.

Nothing useful, really. Mostly decorative, like the necklace of fragmented shells he wore about his neck. But that was more than you could do with most tiny, fragile fish bones, which were only good for piercing; he would know, for his bottom lip and ears were, indeed, pierced and adorned with small ornaments.

And maybe if he collected enough shells, he could appease both his own tribe and the tribe that wanted to buy him; both had agreed that was a good solution, as penance for his transgression. Which was why he was out here in the middle of nowhere to begin with, literally miles from his home, hiding out, if you wanted to put it that way. Ugh...

It wasn't like he knew the girl was engaged...

And there was no way in any of the hells that he was going back there anytime soon! After that tribe bought him...he didn't even want to know what would happen from there. He wasn't even sure literally paying for his crime would work, but if he got caught, he definitely wanted to have a back-up plan of some sort. Something was better than nothing. And maybe, just maybe, if he went long enough without being rooted out and dragged back, this whole thing would be blown over. After the wedding ceremony, maybe everyone would just be too happy with heir new lives to even care anymore.

Yeah right. He'd "robbed" the girl of her "honor", and that carried a lot of weight. Never mind that she'd been a willing participant.

His basket finally filled, Kiyan simply tossed his knife into the basket and waded back to the shore, heading to the little cave he used as a temporary dwelling. Except, a shape on the shore that hadn't been there before caught his eye, and after eyeing it cautiously, he soon realized it was a person. A person which...wasn't moving.

Just his luck to find a random dead body. Though...hopefully it wasn't dead.

Setting his basket down but drawing out his knife, just in case, he trotted over to the figure and crouched down beside him, rearranging his long cloth skirt, the only garment he wore, around his legs out of habit so as not to flash anyone that might be there. He was quiet a moment, and then he breathed in relief when he heard breath and saw the man's chest expanding. And when he realized the man wasn't anyone he recognized, and certainly, judging by his clothes and looks, wasn't anyone from any tribe he was familiar with. Huh...so, where'd he come from? The sea? Yeah right, he didn't look like a merman. Probably just fell off one of those big boats he saw sailing on the waters every now and then, though that was a pretty rare thing, and he couldn't remember a time they'd ever docked around here. He must have fallen off. Lucky he wasn't eaten; the waters were warm here, and he'd seen quite a few sharks visit this bay in the last week, so it was either sheer luck or just that sharks didn't like foreigners.

Well...so, now that it was determined that he was alive, at least, the next step was seeing how bad off he was. If he was just sleeping, then he could wake him up and wouldn't have to do much hauling. Either way, though, he knew he had to get the man out of the sun, probably get some water in him, too, if he knew any better and the guy had filled his stomach with salt.

"Hey..." He poked his arm once, twice, then gave him a little shake and moved to turn him over onto his back where he could peer into his face for any sign of...well, anything, really. His sun-bleached, shoulder-length brown hair hung around his tanned face wetly as he looked down at him for any signs of consciousness, his shell necklace clacking together. "Anyone in there?"

[lol!  well, that's what you're good at doing XD making more characters! ^^;; ]

The pirate groaned softly as he was flipped over, a rush of salt water exploding from his lungs as his body shook with ragged coughs.  He was still so tired....exhausted from his frantic swim and however long he had been without water, without food, or any type of nourishment.

Forcing himself to his side he heaved the water out of his lungs, vaguely aware of the sand that clung to his face where he had collapsed.  After it seemed like all of the sea water he had swallowed was gone he fell onto his back and tried to open his salt crusted eyes in an attempt to view whoever it was who had found him.

The sunlight made for the other to be merely a shadowy figure but his ears picked up the sound of a shell necklace clanking together.  Not that the fact helped Zarak in anyway, he was merely being observant.  The sun hurt his eyes and soon after he had opened them he closed them again to block out the brightness.  He could feel a burn beginning to form on his arms and back and began to wonder just how long he had been laying here....how long ago had the sea spit him out onto this desolate piece of beach.

"I...'m 'live" he croaked, just now realizing that the other had been talking to him.  Using his shaking arms Zarak pushed himself into a sitting position, pulling his knees up to his chest and resting his head on his arms as he focused on breathing, just breathing.  He had always been appreciative of life, but now he realized just how easily it can be taken away, just how easily the ocean could have swallowed him and never let him go...leaving a lifeless body, bloated with water..blue from the cold.

He shivered

How many of his shipmates had seen that fate?  How many of them would be washed up on this very beach in the next few days only to be greeted by the terrible sun and buzzards who revelled in decaying flesh.

"'as...'as there anyun else?" he asked, turning his head to get a better look at whoever it was beside him.  Zarak's hair was coated with sand which weighed down the many dark blonde curls that covered his head, making them seem straggly when normally it was just a big ball of fluff.  His breeches and boots were still on him, even if the pants were a bit tattered, but he had lost his shirt and multiple scratches covered his torso.  Probably from stray pieces of the ship..or maybe he had even run into some rocks or something, he didn't know.  People had gone insane from not having water for extended periods of time, so he wasn't surprised that much of what had happened, after he had found his makeshift raft, was hazy and nearly nonexistant.

"D...d'ye 'ave any water?" He croaked again.

Kiyan edged back when the man began to cough, giving him his space as he cleared all the water from his lungs, and finally collapsed back down. He wasn't in good shape, that was for sure, but that he was at least conscious enough clear his own lungs, that was a promising sign. Well, Kiyan figured it was, at least; he was no healer, but that had to be a good thing, it seemed pretty obvious.

So, Kiyan just waited patiently, waited and watched as the man caught his breath, deciding it was best not to say anything for a bit. He'd wait and see what the man did, whether he decided to stay awake or slip away again, and then he'd speak up. The guy seemed disoriented, which he could only expect since it seemed like he'd nearly drowned himself, and he didn't want to startle him or anything. He looked harmless right now, and Kiyan was the one with the knife, but he still didn't know what kind of person this was. Hell...he might not have fallen of his boat thing, he might have been kicked off, though Kiyan wasn't one to talk about breaking laws and the like. Still, he was just actually more concerned about causing the man any further stress.

But he didn't have to speak first, because soon the man was pulling himself up into an exhausted sitting position, and Kiyan couldn't help but smile when the man voiced his wonder at being alive, amused both at his statement of the obvious and his funny accentâ€"he definitely wasn't from around here. Perhaps Kiyan shouldn't have been amused, for the man must have gone through one hell of an adventure, but...yeah, yeah, it was mostly the accent; he'd never heard anyone talk like that. But it seemed at least his head still seemed to be working right, and they at least seemed to speak the same language. "Very good, you are alive," Kiyan agreed softly, so as not to startle him.

And he couldn't say any more, anyway, because soon the man was questioning him.

Kiyan squinted a little as he deciphered the man's words through that heavy accent, then slowly shook his head, his green eyes widening a little. Others? Well...not only was this the first time that he'd ever encountered a foreignerâ€"even though they rarely ever came here, other tribes further down the coast often dealt with them, and it was said that, sometimes, a few chose to live with them, and sometimes a few of their own went with them, as well, so the idea of foreigners wasn't a new thing, just an interesting thing, eve though they weren't much different at all from those so called foreigners save in dress, location, and cultureâ€"but now there might be others? Here? Ugh. That idea in and of itself didn't bother him. He just didn't want his cover to be blown. Wait...or...were they all in the same kind of shape as he was in? If so...that...wasn't good; he wouldn't wish having the sea swallow up anyone. Or were they looking for this man? That was a more comforting thought. They could get the man taken care of, and he didn't have to worry about himself, either.

But...he hadn't seen anyone else. So, in the meantime, he wasn't worried. Well, maybe a little. He wanted to help this manâ€"Kiyan had quite the bleeding heartâ€"but beyond helping him, he didn't know what would happen after that.

"Uh-uh...just you," he answered, tilting his head a little and shifting around to sit on his knees when his crouching position started to grow uncomfortable. He decided not to bombard the man with questions; he looked tired, and he'd just let him talk at the pace he felt comfortable with. Heck, they were both strangers to each other, and he was pretty trusting himself, but he couldn't say the same for everyone.

"Yeah, I've plenty. Over there." He used his knife to point out the small cave in the cliffs, then looked back to the man. "We might want to get you over there...it kind of looks like the sun's starting to cook you." Kiyan, luckily, never had that problem; his skin was quite used to whatever the sun and heat threw his way. "I could bring some here of course, if you'd rather not...it's your skin," he added. The guy might still be spooked from whatever he'd been through, and a stranger leading him to a dark cave miiight not be very soothing.

Kiyan was harmless, of course, but a stranger might not think that. You never knew.

Zarak didn't even think that this boy could possibly be dangerous.  He might have, had his head been still instead of the jumbled thoughts that compiled in his mind at the moment.  All he could think about was anyone being as lucky as he was, but the chances were slim.  He was one of the best swimmers on board next to the captain, but the captain would have clung to his chests of gold and drowned without a second thought.

But really, it all depended on luck and hell was he lucky.  Not many people could stand up and say they had endured the greatest of the sea's anger and survived, and part of the half drowned pirate wasn't proud of that proclaimation.

Zarak had grown up on that ship.  When he was seven his parents had taken him on a large ship in an attempt to move to a large island in the middle of the ocean.  Their vessel had been attacked by a band of pirates and they had been quite taken with the young boy who stood valiently over his parents bodies with a large stick attempting to fend off the pirates.  At first he hated them for what they had done, but as he stayed longer on the ocean the more he found that he did not want to leave.  The rocking of the ship was soothing, the smell of salt on the wind was his paradise and the thoughts of revenge turned into determination.  He changed his work habits and did everything the best he could in an attempt to become the captain of his own ship that he would have named Brinealle after his mother and worked to change the reputation of the pirates.  He had nearly reached his goal, being first-mate aboard the Sand Grave, but the storm had basically torn that dream from him.

Now he was stuck here, barely able to focus.

"Wha..?" he said looking up, having completely missed what he had said and had to take a few seconds to retrace the boys words and understand them.  His skin?  Oh, the sun.  Normally he didn't burn, having been on a ship all his life he had accumulated a nice, even tan, but laying out in the sun for as long as he had...however long that was...was obviously enough to make him start to redden.

"Oh...I...I'll come wit'ye."  Or at least he'd try.

Even from his exhausted sitting position, Zarak knew that his legs were wobbly and staggering would probably be his walking pattern until he got some water and true rest.  Oh well, at least he would try.  After all he was a pirate wasn't he?  He was strong enough to handle himself....

Turning onto all fours he rose to his knees, rubbing his eyes in an attempt to break off some of the dried salt residue.  With a final push he tried to stand and found that he had more problems then just sea legs.  They would barely support him, but he kept fighting, holding his hands out in an attempt to steady himself.

Well that certainly was embarassing....

Well, that was good, the man didn't seem wary of him at all, just understandably tired. That made things easier; used to the heat or not, not even he was immune to sunstroke, and he day was still young. Best to get the man inside where he could rest up. Aside from looking like a drowned, banged up otter, he didn't look too worse for wear.

Climbing to his feet as the man began the process of struggling to his own, he waited patiently to see if the man needed a hand, but didn't offer him any help, not yet. He was doing all right on his own, and he hadn't asked for assistance, yet. Looked kind of like he wanted to manage it on his own, and Kiyan could relate. Pride could be a fragile thing, so for now he'd just wait and see how much he could manage.

Not too much. He made it to his feet, but then the man started to stagger, and that was when Kiyan finally intervened and looped one of his arms around the man's shoulders to steady him and support some of his weight. "Sorry, hope you don't mind. You looked about ready to topple," he explained and he carefully, slowly lead the man. He left his basket where it was along the shore and dropped his knife as he walked to free up his other hand, just in case what was left of the man's strength gave out. He'd retrieve both later; wasn't like he had to worry about them getting stolen. And by now, it had pretty much been established that he didn't have to worry about the guy freaking out on him or anything. "It's a wonder you're in as good of shape as you are now, man. Sharks have been basking in these waters lately...amazing you weren't at least nibbled. Alright, here we are..."

He ducked them both down to enter the cave, using his free hand to cover the man's head as a precaution that he didn't bump it. It was no more than a small space good enough to serve as a resting place and a storage unit, if you didn't mind stooping. But Kiyan only spent a very small portion of his time in there, so it didn't have to be big, and a smaller space meant  better hiding place. It wasn't anything special: a blanket draped down on the ground near the back to sleep on, a few baskets shoved against the walls, filled with empty shells, and a few small clay jars that he used to collect water from the spring beyond the cliffs. All items he'd had to grab quickly when he'd left his tribe, and not all at once. Feeling brave, a few times he'd made a trip back there to snag a few quick items he'd forgotten.

He helped the man sit down on the blanket, kneeling down in it himself, and drew one of the full clay jars out. There was a little laddle of sorts in it for drinking, and he pushed the clay jar toward the man.

"There you are. Drink up, there's plenty. And if you're hungry...I just got a bunch of mussels. Don't expect anything fancy...I'm on a bit of a budget. Be right back."

He ducked back out of the cave to retrieve the mussels and his knife, and was back shortly after, resettling himself at the edge of the blanket.

The hand around his shoulders really helped and although any other time his pride would have been sorely injured, Zarak was no fool and knew that in his current state any help was the greatest gift in the world.  After all, where would he be if the boy hadn't been there to help him?  He had water and he was willing to share, and that was the greatest gift that the seaman could have possibly asked for.

Trying to get a good look around there current location proved harder than he had thought what with his head spinning and Zarak soon found himself focusing on the ground and telling himself to put one foot infront of the other.  IT would not do for him to suddenly collapse of loose his footing.  He was anything but clumbsy even in his weakened state and he wasn't about to go suddenly topsy.

"Heh..." he replied to the shark comment and silently had to agree, "These...shark fill'd waters?"  Well that made him doubly lucky he thought as the small cave came in sight.  The first thing that came to his head was the size.  It certainly was small, but his survival instincts told him that the smaller a cave the least likely chance of some unwanted visitors, as well as less of a chance that some unfriendly beast would be nesting inside.  Feeling the boys hand on his head he hunched his shoulders as then passed through the lower edge of the cave opening.  And He was certainly glad for the reminder because he was certain that without the gently guiding hand he would have crashing right into it, his six foot frame far too tall for this cave to stand at his full height!

"Thank ye." he murmured as the boy sat him down on the blanket and handed him the clay jar full of water.  Eventhough Zarak wanted to take the entire jar and down in in a single gulp, multiple dehydrations in the past reminded him that he would just throw it all back up.  He needed to drink slowly, one sip at a time and reintroduce his body to the fluids that kept him alive.

When the boy came back the lar was nearly empty and he was feeling a lot better, even if he was still mentally and physically exhausted.

"Did...did th'storm 'it 'ere?" He asked, resting his head against the cave side and closing his eyes.

"Storm?" Sitting cross-legged on the blanket, the basket of mussels in his cloth-covered lap, he tilted his head a little in thought. "Well...we had some rain for a few days, and a little wind, a little thundering. Nothing big, though, and it broke up some time yesterday. We get hurricanes here sometimes, so that was nothing. Was ugly looking further out at sea, though...almost started to make me a bit worried..." If the storm decided to pick up and move further inland, Kiyan would have been forced to flee this little beach. As it was, the tide had risen a lot during that storm, and he could tell from the way that old shells were lodged in the cliff walls that during severe weather, it was likely this cave could wind up submerged. Not a good place to be during nasty weather.

Reaching behind him, he pulled an empty woven basket up beside him, took up his knife, and began the process of scraping the soft flesh free of each shell. The meat was deposited into the empty basket, and each empty shell was set aside carefully to be cleaned out later. "I'm going to make a guess here: you got caught up in the nasty part of it?" he ventured carefully, and raised his eyes up briefly from his work.

It seemed obvious enough, but who knew...it might be a sensitive subject that he might not want to talk about just yet. He'd mentioned "others"...so, perhaps others among his people were in the same state as he. Only worse. It was rare to survive the sea's anger, and many among his own people had been lost to it. His people were, after all, a sea-faring one, and so it wasnt altogether uncommon for an unattended child to wander out into a rip-tide and be lost, or a group of fishermen to be met with an unexpected storm. The sea was unpredictable, and unforgiving as some of the many creatures within it. That they all learned early on.

He'd been very, very lucky.

Of course, the sea wasn't all bad. It was as beautiful as it was dangerous, and it was unfair to see it in only one limited light, for the sea was as multifaceted as the waves that split the sunlight that played upon it. You just had to know both sides of it, the dangerous and the beautiful, and be as careful as you were reverant.

As the man shut his eyes, Kiyan couldn't help but study his "guest" curiously, his trained hands carrying on their work without the need for his eyes. He was really tall (to Kiyan's five feet nine) and looked older than him, and his clothesâ€"well, what were left of themâ€"were interesting...as was his jewelry, all designed in a way he'd never seen before. He wondered where he came from, andâ€"

"Ow!" Kiyan gave his hand a shake, then sucked on the finger he'd knicked in his distraction. So much for trained hands.

Jarak listened silently as his helper spoke about the storm.  Well he certainly had been lucky not to have been hit by the worst of it.  Although any storm on the sea could potentially be deadly, this one had winds gusting stronger than the trained sailor had ever seen, or felt for that matter and knew that had they come inland the effects would have been devestating.

"Yeah." he replied to the boy's guess, "We were ona ship, righ' in th'middle o'th'storm."  And they probably would have had a better chance of survival had the damn captain just chosen to throw his treasure overboard!  God that man was horrible.  How could anyone just throw away his own life like that?  The life of his entire crew?  Well...almost the entire crew.  As far as he knew, Zarak was the only survivor, and a lucky one at that.

Taking another sip of the water in the jar he had been given he went through all of the faces he had known for years.  Each of them were lost to him forever, swallowed by the raging sea and its horrid treachery.  Whoever said that you could always see when a storm was coming needed to be on the ship when that one brewed out of the middle of no where.  He was bright enough to be able to tell you that the sky was cloudless twenty minutes before the worst of the storm hit.

The yelp brought Zarak out of his silent revere as he opened his eyes and looked over at the boy.  It took only a few minutes for his now clearer vision to take everything in...and....truth be told, he could only think about the skirt.

Being a pirate he had seen many strange things throughout his years of plunder...but...a man...in a skirt...that was just.....

Strange....

But maybe...perhaps wherever he had landed all men wore skirts?  Well wouldn't he feel a bit silly walking around in pants!  Haha, right.

"Ye ok?"

Ick. Kiyan gave a sympathetic grimace as his assumptions proved true, and that, indeed, there were others. It was a shame...and the boy really doubted that any others would be as lucky as this man. Caught up in the middle of the storm...he gave a little shudder. Surviving the open, stormy sea without a boat just didn't happen as often as anyone he knew would have liked. Including himself. But, it was the risk any sea-farer took, and they all had to be very aware of the dangers and consequences. It was simply a fact of life, and there was nothing anyone could do about it. Adding a few more drops of salt water to the sea certainly didn't change a thing, except to make your head stuffy.

Then again, maybe he was just jumping to conclusions. Maybe this man was the only one that was lost...or just one of a couple, and his boatâ€"ship?â€"was still out there somewhere, searching out those it had lost.

Well, it'd be nice to think that for this man's sake, but the man certainly didn't look like he was expecting anyone. Quite the opposite...

And Kiyan knew he still had to eventually figure out what he was going to do when the man fully recovered. He'd likely want to go back to wherever it was he'd come from, return home, and Kiyan didn't know the first thing about getting him back there. One of the tribes futher up would know something of it, as they traded with foreigners on occassionâ€"but, conveniently, they also happened to be the one Maricha, the girl he'd been with, belonged to. Um...maybe he could just send the man off in their general direction and entrust him not to mention a thing about himself. Heh. Yeah right. That'd only make him suspicious; he'd probably think he was a murderer or something crazy like that for all he knew. Didn't feel right to do that, either, to just take someone under your roof and then send them out all on their own in a place they likely weren't familiar with when they'd recovered. Um...well...he'd...just have to think about it later, when the issue came up, and go from there. What was important now was that the guy was, physically at least, not too bad off.

He gave a quick glance at his finger when the man spoke up. "Yeah, just a knick, that's all. Hey...sorry about...well, you know. But, you know, maybe someone else will show up alive along the beach, maybe not this exact spot, but there's a lot of beach," he offered up optimistically. Already he'd warmed up to the stranger, even with all his earlier and even his current concerns. It didn't take much, though; caution or not, he was all too trusting. Hell, until the Maricha incident, he'd never known betrayal, and he certainly wasn't going to let something like that get him down. Yeah, it pissed him off, and yeah, he was stuck out in hiding now because of it, but he wasn't going to turn into one of those moping dolts that could see no light in the dark just because a girl lied to him and he faced a hefty "penance".

Okay...so...it sounded pretty bad when he thought it that way, but...it still wasn't the end of the world! And definitely nothing compared to what this guy had been through, nearly drowning and all.

"I mean, there're sharks out here, but there's also dolphins. I've heard stories before of dolphins saving people...maybe one was watching out for you. Iâ€"" He paused, blinking, when it suddenly occured to him that the man was staring at him, as if seeing him for the first time. Or, more like there was a bizarre, deformed insect sitting plopped in his lap. Glancing down at his lap, he soon thought he figured out what was up.

"Oh...never seen a mussel before?" he asked curiously, and reached into the basket to hold up a closed shell still intact. By that time, he'd finished cleaning out the opened ones at the top of the basket that had died in the sun while he'd taken care of his guest, leaving behind the closed, live ones that would have to be cooked soon if they were going to eat any.

"Wha...?" He looked away from where he had been staring quickly and then realized that the boy had interpreted his stare quite incorrectly...but he had more manners than to admit that he had been staring at his skirt...

"Um...yeah....we uh, norm'lly eat clams."  He grinned sheepishly, taking away a few years from his face that had been added from the ordeal he had just been through.  Reaching over to the water, he filled the jar again and sat back down, resting his back against the wall of the cave.

"So..thank ye fer 'elpin' me ou' there." he quickly added, trying to get off the subject of 'mussels' and such.  It was embarassing to say that he had never eaten mussels before, especially when they had been a large part of his diet, but it certainly would have provided and akward feeling had he admitted that he had been staring at his clothes.  From the way that he didn't realize that's what he was looking at, he probably didn't think it was strange at all!  In fact, probably more people he knew were walking around in skirts too....maybe they were more airy?

"I'm Zarak," he offered, holding out his hand to shake.  It would certainly seem better if he offered the hand of friendship so that his helper wouldn't have to worry about being attacked at night by some horrible man who had been shipwrecked and could only think about himself and finding some plunder, stealing it and running away.  Eventhough Zarak was raised a pirate, he had more courtosy than most and wouldn't even dream about hurting someone who was helping out of the plain goodness of their heart.

Not to mention it would be better to have a friend when he landed on this place where he knew no one.  Perhaps he knew where a town was that he could get some supplies, or something of the sort...maybe some more information about the ship...maybe there were survivors?  But wouldn't it make sense that they get washed up on this beach?  It seemed to be the only one that was close to the wreck, so if they were ever going to find land, here seemed like the best bet.  Maybe after he felt a little more solid on his feet, Zarak would look around the beach for someone, or something.

"Clams, huh?" Kiyan tried hard to keep his face neutral rather than incredulous. Well, that was strange. This looked like a sea-faring guy, and mussels were really plentiful! Then...well...they did look ugly on the outside...and he supposed they could blend in with the rocks. Clams were a bit more attractive on the outside, so...huh. It made sense, though it was amusing nonetheless. Still, he kept his face smoothed out, and just nodded. It would be rude to laugh, especially since he didn't know this man well enough to tease him, and he was older than him besides, so he'd just nod in feigned understanding, though he had a feeling his eyes gave away something of what he felt. If there was one thing he was bad at, it was lying and pretending.

He cleared his throat a little. "Well, I...I don't have any clams, but...but these are really good! They'd be better if I had better things to cook them with and spices, but...gotta make due with what you have!"

Zarak was not the only one glad for the change in subject.

"You're welcome. Have to say, it's not everyday you find a person washed up on shore, even less one that's alive, and even less a foreigner. I mean! A new person. Uh...sorry." He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. Foreigner. Ugh. He hoped the man didn't take offense to the term, he didn't mean it badly! "Travellers don't come here much," he put in quickly. "Never met anyone like you before. But, um, yeah, glad to help...gave me a bit of a scare there. I thought you were dead at first; you don't look very alive asleep."

Setting down his knife, he grasped Zarak's offered hand in both of his own. Zarak's offer was universal enough, and he knew it well as a sign of trust. It wasn't altogether necessary, because the boy already trusted himâ€"and why not? He'd helped him out, so why should he worry about him turning on him? Perhaps it was foolish to think that, but he really had no reason to expect any less. At least, not by his own cheery perception of the world. "Kiyan," he replied with a smile before releasing the man's hand. Well, jeez...why hadn't that occured to him, to introduce himself? Except...crap. He'd just given out his real name...

Heh, like that even mattered. He didn't think anyone would come looking for him here any time soon, and Zarak didn't have a reason to give him away, or a person to give him away to. Paranoid, much?

Nah.

He couldn't help the slight smile rise in his cheeks as Kiyan started rambling about mussles and spices and the pirate quickly hid the grin behind his hand, pretending to cough.  It was apparent by the look in his young friend's eyes that he found his 'non-mussle' diet was amusing, especially from having been on a ship.

Oh well, it's not like he could take back the lie now without looking like..well...a lyer, and causing akwardness in the camp life!  He'd just have to go with it and pretend that he loved the mussles once they were cooked...if Kiyan even cooked them, or offered him any.  But...wasn't he cooking them weird?

"Wouldn' it be easier t'boil 'em?" he asked, motioning to the mussles with his hands, "An' then th'shells'll open once th'meat inside is cooked."  Well, that's what he had always done on the ship.  It was a whole lot easier than trying to pry open each shell by hand and clean out the meat before you ate it.  Once it was cooked the mussles came out of their shells quite easily and there really was no need for a knife at all!  But...maybe Kiyan didn't know that way to cook them?  After all, they were probably from different ends of the world and had different habits.

Like dress....

No no no!  He could NOT get back on the skirt thing now!  If he continued to think about it Zarak was sure that he would loose his composure and just fall over laughing.  Never in his life...never...man...skirt...

He hid a small chuckle behind a cough and wiped the tears from his eyes that began to form from trying to hold back his laughter.  Oh man...this was an embarassing situation!  He had to get himself under control...had to!  It would not do at all to insult him!

"So..." he paused to take a controlling breath, "Um...'ow long 'ave ye been 'ere?"

Now it was Kiyan's turn to look sheepish, an awkward grin on his face. Aw, man, so he'd noticed. Yeah, Kiyan certainly wasn't going about this whole mussel business the way he'd been taught and aside from boiling, he honestly didn't know how to properly cook them. He'd just been using this method since he got hereâ€"struggle to gt the shell open, scrape out the meat and spear it, then roast it over a fire. So far, that method hadn't yet killed him, though it was horribly tedious. Still he figured as long as he din't eat the ones that had died before he got to themâ€"those he returned to the sea for the little sea creatures to eatâ€"then it was safe enough.

"Um...yeah...it would...but you see, all I got are those clay jars." And not very good ones, at that. But he hadn't wanted to risk lifting anything that would be missed, and those certainly wouldn't be missed! "I don't think they're good for boiling...I think the fire would break them." He looked up at Zarak, raising an eyebrow in inquiry as though to ask what he thought about thatâ€"hey, he certainly seemed to know his stuff about shellfish!â€"but then he blinked again.

Zarak was sure coughing a lot...a strange cough, at that. And his eyes looked like they were watering.

"Hey, you alright?" he asked. Maybe he was sick...or getting sick. After all, his clothes were all wet and he was wearing those big shoes still. That had to be uncomfortable...wet clothes always were, and those looked so thick and heavy. His toes were probably getting all wrinkled in those shoes, too...which was never fun. Besides, Kiyan would imagine that he was probably sick of water by now. "You catching cold? You might want to take off your clothes. They can't be too comfortable all wet, and we can set them out to dry. Here, you can use the blanket. Sorry, I don't have anything extra...but that should work until your clothes dry! I'll be right outside, just tell me when you're done."

Kiyan was pretty sure he was being helpful and doing the poor guy a favor.  

Ducking outside to give Zarak his privacyâ€"his tribe was a modest one, after allâ€"Kiyan stood and leaned against the cave wall, stretching with his hands over his head. "Been here about a week," he answered without thinking. "How about you? Well...I mean...never mind. Where'd you come from?"

Clay jars?

Hmmm...they wouldn't break if they had been fired, after all they had used a lot of clay jars aboard the Sand Grave but never for boiling.  He didn't see why they would break under the heat if they had been properly made though!  Hell, clay jars were good for everything else!

"Wha...oh...no!" he replied as Kiyan asked about the cold, but it was too late to convince him that he was fine because in the next second he was gone, outside of the cave to wait for his guest to change.  Zarak sighed, it would be nice to get out of the wet clothes, but he wasn't sure how comfortable he was to be just wearing a blanket in the presence of a stranger he just met.

"Ah 'ell with it." he muttered to himself and siftly stripped himself of his kneehigh leather boots, praying that the water hadn't damaged them too much.  Next came a pair of very very wet socks and then his tearing breeches and undergarments.  Part of him wanted to keep at least the undergarments on, but that would be just as uncomfortable as if he had kept everything else on.  Using one of his cord necklaces he wrapped the blanket firmly around his waist and tied off the side for extra protection.

Looking down at himself he chuckled softly to himself.  Well, now he certainly fit in!  It was a blanket, but it certainly looked liked like a skirt.  Now he didn't have any reason to laugh at Kiyan if he looked very similar...possibly even more strange because his 'skirt' was a blanket.

Oh man...it was the island of skirted men...

"I come froma land called Seryn." he replied, gathering up his wet clothes and exiting the cave, slowly because his legs still felt like jelly but were much firmer than before.  "Bu' I've been travelin' fer years, an' I don' actually 'ave a place I come from an'more.  Are ye from 'round 'ere?"

Walking a little bit further out, he laid down his pants and underwear, putting his boots beside it.  Reaching up he scratched his head, aware that as it was drying the curls began to come back, fighting against the salt that was weighing it down.  In an hour maybe it'd be back to it's gigantic untameable afro which would probably be amusing to anyone looking at him.

Gods...he was just shipwrecked and all he could think about was his hair?  When did he become this vain?

"Jeez...that many places, huh?" Kiyan murmered as Zarak finally exited, and he tried hard not to show any signs of amusement or surprise. Not so much at what he was now wearingâ€"he did look kind of funny like that, though, not just because it was a blanket, but...but...well, something about the way he moved kind of said he didn't wear anything like that oftenâ€"but at the sheer amount of clothes he'd had on. Two sets of garments to cover each section? Jeez, no wonder he looked out of place. And really, it was a wonder he didn't drown with all that stuff weighing him down, and those shoes looked huge and heavy! Maybe it was cold where he came from. No, that wouldn't make sense, he said he came from a lot of places. Maybe it had been cold where he'd last been? Nah, probably just the typical style of dress where he came from.

Odd. Looked uncomfortable and restricting to him...

"Me...I was born and raised here," he said. "Never been anywhere else. Some people have left, though, on one of those big boats when they come now and then. Some tribes are interested in that kind of thing. Mine's old fashioned, though...likes things the way they are, uncomplicated, they say, so they don't have much to do at all with foreiâ€"ah, your people. I think I'd want to travel someday, though...I don't know...it'd be hard to leave..."

And he didn't just mean emotionally. The only ways out were via the sea, or to travel miles and miles further inland, through the forest. But like hell he'd go through there! He'd been taught it was dangerous, far more than the ocean. Go in there, and you'd get swallowed up by it for sure, lost forever. No one ever came back that went in. Travelling on a big boat didn't sound any better to him. He loved the sea, but how could anyone go out there so far that they could no longer see land? And then there were the storms, like the one this man had endured. Man...drowning had to be one of the worst ways to go. He'd got enough water up his nose in his life to know he would not want to experience a more extreme, permanent version of that.

Then, of course, there was that whole penance issue. Huh. Actually, on second thought, he might like to go on one of those big boats...

"What's it like where you come from? Or where you've been, if that's better." He'd moved from his position by the cliff wall and stooped down in the sand to start building a little makeshift fire pitâ€"nothing more than a shallow, sandy impression bordered by rocks and filled with dead palm frawns he'd collected a few days ago and kept piled nearby.

He hoped he wasn't bombarding him with too many questions too soon, but he really was curious!

Where he was from....

That was an interesting question to say the least!  The last time he had seen his homeland was nearly eighteen years ago after the ship was attacked and he was adopted by the pirates.  Everything around that time was hazy and didn't come back to him easily..and what did seemed so distant that he wasn't even sure it was real and not a dream!  He remembered his parents, certainly, or at least feelings if not their faces.  He knew that Seryn was an island somewhere off the coast of some larger strip of land...

"Seryn was a small fishin' village in righ' off th'coast...a small islan'" he replied after a moments hesitation to get his thoughts in order and sift through nearly forgotten memories, "I don' remember i' much, on'y tha'  we was a quiet lot, kep' t'ourselves.  My mum an' da decided t'move though, an' I never saw it again."  Looking over at the small fire pit he made his way slowly towards Kiyan, hoping that there was something he could do to help out.  He also used the movement as an excuse to stop talking.  How much should he relay to his new friend?  It wasn't as if his past was an open book that he wanted everyone to know...and he wasn't even sure how the poor guy would act if he suddenly realized he was housing a pirate!  Even a 'noble' pirate was still a thief in his own right and Zarak was not about to deny that!  He had plundered, had fought, but never killed innocents, only those who attempted to face him with a sword.

Hell, he had to protect himself somehow.

"When we were inth'middle o' th'sea, our ship was attacked an' I 'as taken aboard another an' 'ave been on ships fer the most part o' my life after'ards."  It was truthful enough, and didnt' give too much information, although he supposed that he would have to tell Kiyan anyway.  He was sure that somewhere someone had taken a grudge and posted his face in a lovely "Wanted" picture.  He just hoped that it wasn't this place...not that it looked farmiliar...but hell, anyone from anywhere could ride and ship and have accidentally been in the path of the vessels he was aboard.

"All th' other places 'ave been pretty differnt.  Ye ge' snow sometimes...but mos'ly it's wind an' rain tha' bea' down on yer head until ye've grown daft.  I've seen lotsa differnt places an' people..some jungles an' deserts....bein' on a trav'lin' ship sure does 'ave its advan'tges eve' wit th' disadvan'tges."  He watched Kiyan silently for a moment, wondering if it would be an insult to ask to help, or if he would even be able to do anything if he offered.  His legs were still pretty useless if he wanted to do something more than just walking...slowly...and the rest of his body was probably in the same boat....

No pun intended

"Um....ye wan' 'elp wit anythin'?"  He finally gave up and asked, feeling really akward and useless as he kneeled beside the boy.

Kiyan's work had slowed very noticeably as Zarak relayed his story, soakng up the information. Fishing village, huh? Wasn't much different from here, then! No wonder Zarak knew so much and didn't seem too out of placeâ€"though the mussel thing...well, that was still a bit of a mystery, not to mention his strange clothes. Well, they weren't too strange; the hunters among his tribe wore something like the breeches Zarak wore, which offered better protection and no threat of any material getting snagged on something, but still not as many pairs of stuff as Zarak! And Kiyan didn't see how they could be very comfortable for a prolonged period of time, not with the weather here as warm as it was. Oh well. Quiet, kept to themselves. Yep, sounded a lot like his own tribe. Seemed they had more in common than he thought.

But common or not, his story was, of course, a lot different than his own, and Kiyan's eyes widened in surprise. Their boatâ€"shipâ€"had been attacked? And he'd been taken? Oh jeez...he had no idea other boats would attack one another like that! Of course one group of people could attack another on land, but to fight on boats? And then to be taken captive on the sea...man. Thank goodness fights here were rare, and the last actual war had been fought ages and ages ago. This was by no means a utopia and there was still crime and punishment, but it was toned down enough that Kiyan could say he'd never seen something where he'd actually been afraid anyone could die. That sounded freaky, though...but it sounded like he'd gotten away, obviously, if he was here and able to continue on his journeys freely like that! But...what about his parents? Had they been on the ship that got attacked?

He listened to his accounts, a few wordsâ€"snow and desertâ€"catching him. He'd heard the words before, and knew what the words described, but he couldn't really imagine them and had half figured it was just the work of another folk tale. Sand that stretched forever without water, and water that fell solid from the sky? How did that work, anyway...? But while he might have laughed at the tale of another tribe member, it was easy to believe the account of this man. Hell, why would he lie about that? And Kiyan believed very easily that he'd seen everything that he said he did. He had no reason to think he was pulling his leg.

"Man...some life you've had..." he murmered appreciatively, clearly impressed. Sure made his own sound a bore. Hell, he wasn't even a hunter! "Dunno if I'd much like the whole capturing part, though, but it sure sounds like luck's on your side. Never heard of anyone escaping from being held captive before." He didn't ask about his parents or any other details about the attack. That might be touchy.

When Zarak knelt down beside him and asked to help, Kiyan looked a little surprised, brought back to his work. He hadn't expected any help, and he didn't mind that, eitherâ€"the man needed his rest, no doubtâ€"and there wasn't really too much to do, but it would have been rude not to accept the help, too. But he still looked beat. Um...ah! "Oh, yeah! If you're up to it. It's no big deal, though, so you don't have to if you feel tired. But if you want to...just go ahead and break up some of those palm frawns a bit, so they fit in the pit. I'll get the mussels and...ah, do you think one of those clay jars would work? For boiling? They're not very good...I don't think..."

A homemaker he was not.

Zarak was oddly quiet as Kiyan murmured about luck.  He never looked at his fate as luck, but merely the path that he was chosen to take...and it made matters worse to know that his new friend now thought that he had escaped.  If only he knew...and maybe it would be better if he did know...just so he would be aware of exactly what he was getting himself into.....

No no...no.  That would most certainly be the wrong choice!  After all, he still needed a place to stay, a place with water that wasn't salty so he could regain his strength.  If he told him that he had been the first-mate on a pirates ship, that he had stolen jewels and killed many men before....that was bound to be an ugly encounter and he wasn't yet ready to face the consequences of that....

Or the consequences of letting him know that he loved mussles....

Oh man...what a hole he'd now dug himself!  He was woven in a tangled web of lies and half truths!  It would definately be a nasty untangling session....

"Um...yeah...I think th'jars should 'ork" he said, realizing that his question about helping had been answered, "If they've been fired 'n stuff.....we use t'use clay on th'ship....bu' it was spec'lly made..."  Walking over, slowly to make sure his legs wouldn't randomly give out on him, he grabbed a handfull of the palms and went back to the fire pit, breaking up the long leaves slowly as his mind wandered.  

Was it really the best choice to keep this boy in the dark?  Hell, he wouldn't want some random pirate coming to stay with him, shipwrecked or not!  And just because he wasn't like most pirates, showing mercy and compassion where a lot of his companions would not,  he was still a pirate!  A wanted man in many different countries and islands....Gods...he was a walking target for this poor boy!  If anyone caught Kiyan with him, they would both be punished, and Kiyan wouldn't even have a reason!

Stop it...he told himself forcefully....he was looking out for his own well being and keeping his silence for now would work in his best interest.  Better to keep secrets then have a loose tongue....

Wasn't it?

"Um...d'ye get...pirates 'ere much?" he asked, still struggling with his emotions.  Better to hear Kiyan's view on pirates before he went blabbing about who he really was.....

As Zarak was quiet, Kiyan almost grew afraid that he'd hit a sore spot somewhere among one of his sentences. He was talking a lot, and asking a lot of questions, and he knew it. Maybe he'd gotten carried away...but the man was nice and talking to him came rather easily. Not to mention a week on his own, no matter how much he claimed it didn't bother him, really had started to eat away at him. Sure, he could fend for himself just fine (or so he thought) but it didn't mean he actually enjoyed the solitude, and while he'd been wary at first of any consequences this man's presence might bring even as he worried about the man's health, now it seemed only a passing concern.

But then Zarak started to break up the dried palm frawns, and answered his question about the jars knowledgeably. Whew...so he wsn't upset at all. "Hmm...dunno if they've been fired..." But, then, low quality or not, why wouldn't they have been? Ah, but he didn't really know the process...the women mostly took care of that stuff. "But we can try it! If it breaks, it breaksâ€"" and he'd just have to find a chance to sneak off and grab a new one, without letting his new friend know. Man, that just wouldn't be good, letting him know there was a new-made petty thief among him. "â€"and if it doesn't...learn something new!"

He ducked back into the cave to empty the remaining mussels into a jar that already contained fresh water, then brought it an the basket of dead mussels out, the ones he would be tossing back to the sea. Looking over Zarak's work, he figured that he was almost done, and that the next step would just be the toughestâ€"actually getting the danged fire pit lit. He had a flint with him, but it still took forever to get the thing to work. He never could quite master it.

"That should be good," he said, setting the jar close by and kneeling near it. Okay...now, to get it lit. Kiyan glanced up once at Zarak, then at the little flint he'd brought out with him. Hopefully he could it by at least the fifth try and wouldn't make too big of a fool of himself. Yeah, that'd be a record.

And thus began the process of trying to birth a spark.

"Pirates? Um, I don't think so...like I said, we don't get many visitors." He hoped that's what he was talking about. But, just to make sure, he added sheepishly, "Heh...what is a Pirate? Sorry, I can't say I've heard the word before. I might have, but I don't remember." He kept his eyes down on the flint, slightly embarrassed. The way Zarak said it, it made it sound like it was something common that he should know about. Er...well, actually, he was just getting frustrated with the stupid fire. He'd almost gotten a spark, he knew it! Argh...why couldn't he just get it right just once, at least when he had company...

Well, that certainly answered Zarak's question well enough.

Strike.......

Strike.....

Wow....Zarak wasn't sure he had ever seen someone not be able to light a fire with at least the first two strikes of the flint!  It was common knowledge aboard any ship that if you couldn't get fire into your lantern or into your fireplace in your room, there was a good chance you would get sick and die before even getting halfway to your destination!  Or in Zarak's case, to the next cargo ship or some other fancy shmancy boat that looked promising.  Every once in a while they'd stop to deposite their jewels and such, but that was rare....or to fix there ship...that was more common.

But...wait...had he just asked what a pirate was?

The older man could do nothing but stare after that question...completely floored.  Was it possible that he had landed somewhere that pirates were completely unknown?  That...maybe it was...hidden from the world or something?  So that no plunderers could find it?  Or...maybe there were just really good soldiers parading the outskirts, stopping every pirate ship that tries to land.....

Oh man...oh man oh man!  If that was the case then there was no hope for him!  The partrol would be bound to have drawings, pictures, of pirates to look out for and Zarak was sure that his face would probably be gracing at least one of them!  After all, he had been caught before and the nice "P" brand on his wrist was enough to prove to anyone who he really was!

Shit...shit.....this wasn't good...he needed to do something...do...

Wait..he had to be overreacting....had to be!  This kid didn't even know what a pirate was, so maybe everyone didn't know....so there wouldn't be any patrols...nothing....

Breathe...he just needed to breathe.  There was nothing to get worked up about yet.  Besides, he was here on the beach, in a cave for goodness sakes!  No one would come looking, and if they were found it wouldn't be by some boarder patrol...just some random wanderers....

yeah...that was it....wanderers....meanderers....

"Um...Pirates?"  He repeated, then kicked himself for allowing his words to seem so guilt ridden, "Um...ya know...they're seafarin' men....usu'lly men....though ye do see som' 'omen...." crap, he was going at this really badly....really really badly.  Why don't you just throw yourself into the fire now?  It'll save yourself the agony later...."They're...no' much liked." he finished lamely.  If Kiyan asked questions he'd answer then....

Another strike. Then another. Argh...come on, just light all ready! Ah! A spark! Crap...didn't catch. Maybe it was the flint. He couldn't be this inept, it was the flint...yeah...the flint...it was low quality, too...must be...

Zarak's discomfort went unnoticed as Kiyan grappled with getting a fire started, chewing on the small ring piercing his bottom lip in his concentration. Just a sucky old flint. That was all. Ugh...hopefully Zarak wasn't so quiet because he was watching his sloppy progress. He was older than he, after all, and seemed a lot more experienced in so many things. This probably looked so pathetic! Hell, he felt pathetic! This was so embarrassing...

Then Zarak spoke again...and his voice sounded...odd. Maybe nervous? Though, as he described these "pirates", Kiyan couldn't see what he would be nervous about. Sea-farers, weren't much liked. What was so bad about that? And why weren't they liked? Kiyan looked up, raised an eyebrow slightly. Outcasts, maybe? Though, he still didn't understand. It seemed a kind of awkward subject for Zarak, though he hadn't given away much at all by his short, vague description.

"Ah...what's wrong with them?" he asked, blinking green eyes slowly, quite confused by now and the flint for now forgotten. After all, Zarak hadn't given him much to go off of, and his tone was such that he wasn't so sure if he should be asking anymore questions. But, Zarak had also sked him first, and seemed to have thought he knew what they were, so now that he didn't...well, it seemed safe to ask. "I mean...why aren't they liked?"  

Wait a minute...sea-faring folks...not much liked...

Ah!

"Ohhh, wait...did...were they the ones that attacked your ship?" he asked carefully, once again biting his lip, hoping he wasn't prying. But he could put two and two together, and if that was the case, it would only make sense that Zarak was curious about such people, and that it would be an uncomfortable subject.

Zarak realized after another few moments of silence that he had been breaking up more of the palms eventhough Kyan had told him there were enough.  Setting aside the others, he had to think about not twidling his thumbs, aware even more at the moment of that scar on his wrist that was a becon everywhere of what he had done.

In no way was he being a coward by fearing discovery!  The last time he had been "captured" he had sat in a cell some hundred feet below ground for nearly two weeks.  When they had remembered him, they would bring a stale piece of bread and water that was barely drinkable, filled with contaminents that would make most prisoners sick within a day and then their cells were filled with vomet as well as with urine and sweat, dirt and rats.  When questioned about the whereabouts of his companions it had been with a leather whip that would smack across your back if you refused to answer or whatever you did tell wasn't up to their standards.  And of course "I don't know" didn't cut it.

Luckily for Zarak he had always been good at making up stories and had learned from some mage somewhere how to hide a lie even from a truth spell.  Given, it didn't always work, but he had been extremely lucky this time that the mage present at the interogation had been new and not yet strong in his truth spells.  Since he had "sung like a canary" they had let him off with a warning that should he ever be caught aboard a pirate ship again, his punishment would not be so easy, and down came the hot iron.

"My ship?"  he was pulled out of his memories again, feeling more stupid by the minute for zoning in and out.  God, he should have been paying more attention, "Um...yeah...a group o'pirates.  People don' like 'em much 'cus they attack ships an' stuff....norm'lly t'steal th'cargo.  Bu' not all pirates are bad!" he added a little too quickly.  This was getting rediculous...he needed to breathe and just act normal.  It was obvious that Kiyan didn't know anything so he didn't need to be afraid of being turned in, and he was better than this!  Why was he suddenly getting sweaty palms now when he had been perfectly fine lying his heart away to those prison guards?

Well...actually....he had been pretty damn nervous then...if they had realized he was lying he probably wouldn't be on this beach....or have left that facility ever again....

"Ye get th' bad pirate, th'ones on'y obsessed wit treasure an' gold, an' women....bu' ther're a good few who are jus' there 'cus they don' 'ave anywhere else t'go...."

Now Kiyan was watching Zarak, blinking as he once again started breaking up the leaves and, once again...seemed not to have heard what he'd said. Er...maybe he really wasn't feeling as well as he was playing off? He was really acting strange now, suddenly so distractred, and it looked like he'd already forgotten what he'd said only moments ago. Maybe he really was coming down with something, or just plain exhausted...

He was about to suggest that he go back inside and lay downâ€"he could take care of the rest, and he certainly didn't want him out here helping, even a little, if it was going to hurt him!â€"but then Zarak stopped shredding the leaves and seemed to come back to himself. Kind of. But he was still acting so strange and distracted, repeating the question as if he hadn't rightly heard it before he finally answered the question about pirates. Kiyan watched him carefully throughout as he spoke now, studying him, not out of suspicion but but of concern. People sometimes babbled and acted like that when they were getting a fever, and fevers weren't good out here in the heat. He looked like he might be getting a bit hot...maybe it was the beginnings of a fever, but it could also be the sun.

Someone else among his tribe might have called Zarak's behavior shifty. Kiyan himself couldn't help but start a little as, in the middle of naming pirates as bad, he quickly added not all were. Very quickly.

But, he had also just survived a shipwreck and was also babbling, probably from tiredness or the heat.

"There's good and bad in everyone, though, right?" Kiyan offered as he shifted closer to Zarak until he could reach out and touch his brow. "Huh...well, you don't have a fever, that's good! Are you alright, though? Sun's not getting to you, is it?"

Nowhere else to go...Kiyan could relate to that. It wasn't always your fault when a trap is set and you get snared. Not everything that happened could be avoided, or was your own doing or wish, and sometimes, things could just kind of...spiral downhill. Like him! Heh, he'd broken like...a lot of laws now. First the deal with Marichaâ€"not his fault!â€"then he'd run away from his sentencing, then he'd stolen stuff...yeah, things had gotten messy, and he wasn't looking forward to cleaning it up. He'd have to eventually...but he hoped it was far enough in the future that some of this could be blown over and that he could make amends some other way.

He shifted a bit, suddenly awkward. "I think I know what you mean...um, about them not having anywhere else to go. That's understandable...I should feel sorry for them..." Sure, attacking ships and stealing cargo, they committed bigger crimes than he, but maybe they'd started out like him? A few small mistakes, and then it had gradually grown and grown until they didn't know what else to do but just keep running. That thought made him cringe a little. He knew he didn't want to keep running...nor did he want it to escalate more than it already had.

"Wha?  Fever?  Oh!  No no, I don' 'ave a fever!" he replied, slightly shocked before he realized that his shift behavior had come off as feverish.  "An' th' sun's nice..."  Oh man...well, at least he hadn't been called out.  If Kiyan had given him even the slightest of weird stares that clearly said, 'you're acting very shifty', Zarak would have spilled his heart out.  He hadn't realized until now how much of a burden it was to keep who you are a secret.  But then...he had never had to hide himself before now....

Hmm...he supposed that he should feel sorry for those who were roped into the pirate life, but that would require him to pity himself and that was no where in his make-up.  He took life with a grain of salt and pity was one luxiory he couldn't afford, even with all of his stashed gold.  But now even that was probably gone forever, sunk to the bottom of the ocean, or on an island miles and miles away in what seemed like a completely different world then the one he had landed on.  For all he knew this was a completely different world and by some higher power he had been dragged into it...

pfft...right....he hadn't believed in a higher being since the day his parents had died.  Every hope and prayer he had put into his deity had been crushed, shattered into a million pieces and he had never had enough time to pick up the pieces, so instead he swept them overboard....with the rest of his morals he supposed.  But what morals did a seven year old have?  So in a way he had forged his own thoughts and beliefs into good, even among a pirate's ship.

Maybe he hadn't done the right thing?  Perhaps he should have run away when he had the chance...but he had learned what Kiyan had just voiced, that there was good and bad in everyone, even plunderers and thieves.  Oh well, there was no use crying over what he couldn't change!  He'd been a pirate for fifteen years and that was who he was, no questions asked.

Looking up at the ocean he imagined himself back on the Sand Grave, the sun shining on his face, walking around the open deck, checking on everyone to make sure that everything was ship shape....

It was funny, but that seemed like a dream, like those long years aboard that ship had faded into just a dream that he had woken from and was desperately trying to remember the details.  Sailing came second nature to him now...but looking back, it seemed like that was a completely different life and now he was forging a new one...given the chance to start over...

If he wanted that is....and he didn't.  Zarak liked who he was and wasn't about to change it.

A small twang in the back of his mind brought his eyes to the sky, the small weather magic that flowed through his veins warning him that those white clouds on the horizon held quite a lot of rain and would be arriving in a few hours.

"Rain's comin'" he told Kiyan, still watching the sky.

"It is? It doesn't look any different from how it's looked all day to me..." What clouds there were were light and fluffy and white, not the ominous dark clouds of an impending storm. Of course Kiyan knew from a life lived by the sea that the worst of storms brewed out of nowhere, that a perfectly clear sky could be split with lightning and roaring with thunder and rain and wind without even a moment's notice; that was a given, and he'd seen it actually happen time and time again. But to predict a storm, one usually needed a little something to go off, something more substantial that just your average white clouds drifting lazily by.

Zarak sounded confident in his prediction, though. There was no "I think" in that statement. And, sure enough, a ligt breeze began to blow, whipping out loose strands of his hair. Kiyan closed his eyes briefly to focus on just the feel of the living air, then glanced up at Zarak. The wind was coming from the sea. Zarak could very well be right, and if he was...

"How...how did you do that? I mean, know that?" Damn...maybe his people were just really intuned with the weather? Kiyan wouldn't have been able to make such a guess as that just based off the breeze. A darkening in the sky and an increase in the choppiness of the waves would have been his first clue that something was about to happen, and here this man had made a prediction even before the breeze even arrived! Some of the elders were gifted when it came to the natural world...but not like that! And the weather was so unpredictable, it was just impossible to spot any sort of pattern to it. There was none.

Er, wait...what if it was some secret among his people? "Well...you don't have to say if you don't want. Sorry...don't mean to keep prying about stuff." He might be badgering him with all his questions, and it wouldn't be the first time. He was naturally inquisitive about anything and everything that caught his fancy. If something interested him, he would ask question after question until he knew the subject inside and out if the poor soul he was interrogating had patience enough to keep talking. While he might not mind badgering someone within his own tribe that he knew, the last thing he wanted was to offend his new companion, whom he had just begun learning about. It was almost a bit painful to keep himself reined in; there were so many things he was curious about, and if he hadn't been afraid of annoying the man or bothering him if he still wasn't feeling well, he'd have long since drilled him about all the details of his travels and the people he'd seen.

"Guess we should hurry with the mussels, then," he said, suddenly remembering his flint and quickly setting himself back to work. After all, they couldn't have a fire inside, unless they wanted to be choked out by the smoke. And anyway, once night came, it was best to be inside.

Safer.

"It's a...sorta talen' tha' I was born wit."  He replied, tearing his eyes from the sky.  He didn't know how well Kiyan would take to him saying that he had some weather magic and he most certainly didn't want to scare the poor guy away.  "It's no' a secre' or an'thin' an' I don' think tha' I can teach it t'an'un.  I've met sumothers wit th' same talen', bu' they're a whole lo' better then me.  I can jus' predic' what th'weather's gonna do, but there were sum on th'ships tha' could act'lly control it"  Myabe he was giving away a bit too much information, especially if Kiyan guessed it was magic and was suddenly spooked...but hell, he liked talking to the kid, it was refreshing.

Before all he would hear about were different women every night and which taverns provided the best enjoyment for the least price.  Of course that was when they were on land.  Some of his shipmates brought along some of their wenches, but they normally didn't last long under the straining circumstances of the sea, and when they did, they ran off at the next port.  They had always joked about it then, that the crewmember who brought her hadn't been good enough.  

Or the ocean...that was another topic that was always bouncing around the ship.  The ocean and the ship.  Were the ropes tied up for the sails?  Was that choppy water coming up?  The wind is picking up, be prepared to lower the sails.  Zarak?  Do you feel any strong winds a comin' this way?

He was usually the only weather mage aboard the ship so they always consulted him about docking, or starting out on a new expidition.  If a storm was on the way, they'd wait to ship off, or they'd stay out at sea and ride out the storm.  It was always better to go through a storm on the open waters then at dock, otherwise the other ships tied up would knock against yours and sink one another.  Given, it was no easy picnic in the middle of the ocean, but if they had sunk, the dock would have been close enough to swim to...with some effort.

"Yeah...." he replied to the mussel comment.  His stomach was rumbling and he couldn't wait to get hands on some of them!  Just thinking about it made his mouth water!

"Um...d'ye need an'elp wit tha'?"  he asked, trying not to be rude, but feeling slightly impatient to get the water boiling and the mussels in.  That would probably take a good half an hour to a hour, depending on how long it took for the fire to get hot enough.  The sooner it was lit, the sooner those damn mussels would get cooked!

[teehee...I keep getting all transfixed by your icon and just staring... ^^;;;]

Talent...it took Kiyan a few seconds to decipher a few of the words Zarak had used, because his accent was so heavy and Kiyan had certainly never heard one like it. But hed gotten used to it a lot since metting him and talking to him, even if he did still get hung up on a word here and there. Heh, and heck, maybe his own way of talking was funny to Zarak, who knew!

Talent, though...man, that was some talent! When Kiyan thought of talents, he thought of things like how far someone could throw a spear at a target and how accurately it would hit, or how skilled someone was at making some trinket, or how well someone could sing or dance or play an instrument or weave or paint with dyes. Those were all talents...very physical, tangible things that took a lot of practice and skill, and that some people were better at than others. Some were just naturals at it, as if it was what they were born to do and their body knew the way even before they fully understood it. Accurately predicting the weatherâ€"or, as he said some people could do, controlling it, that was...that was...

"It's like magic...can your people do magic, Zarak? Is that what it is?" he asked, trying hard to keep his excitement toned down. After all, he might be wrong in his assumption, and he didn't really fully understand what magic was himself; he only knew what he'd been told, which was vague at that about some people having the ability to do things that no ordinary human could naturally do. Controlling the weather certainly qualified as that!

He nodded absently when Zarak asked if he needed any help and passed the flint over to him without even really realizing it. "My people can't do magic at all, you see. We used to, apparently, but something happened...I don't really know the whole story, but it was something about a sickness a long, long time ago, one that killed a whole lot of people and only made those sick that had magic. So, no one's ever had any since. That's all. I've never met anyone before that had any, though Maricha once saidâ€"" He stopped short, gave a grimace. "Ah, never mind. That's really neat, though! It must make things easier, I imagine. Is it really rare where you come from? Or can a lot of people do it? Andâ€""

He realized he was talking a lot and quickly dammed up the flow of words when he also realized he was assuming a lot. It might not be magic at all...but it was still interesting!

And he really liked talking to the man. He was different, and didn't seem to get at all upset when he asked questions, answering each one honestly. That was just really...refreshing. Even if he was still a stranger he'd just met he already knew he liked him.

The pirate couldn't help but grinning as his young friend started going off about magic, and about the slight history of his people.  It was pleasent to know that his life was at least interesting, where most people would call it a 'waste' or 'immoral'.  Not that he listened to those people, he was just glad that this guy wasn't flipping out about magic.  It was also really reassuring.  Zarak couldn't count how many times they'd docked somewhere and been chased away because of their magic.

Fun times.....

"Yeah, magic." he replied with a sheepish grin as he took the flint and started right away with the fire, conjuring up a spark in the matter of two swift strokes and on the third one the spark caught on the kindling that Kiyan had put in the makeshift fire pit.  Leaning down he blew expertly on the small flame and started slowly adding the smaller sticks and palms

"I didn' want t'say anythin' at first 'cus o'a lot o'people I've met.  Not all o'em are so keen t'ear 'bout magic.  Wouldn' wan' ye t'attack me wit yer clay jars or nothin'." he added with a grin, looking up when he was sure the fire wouldn't go out with a few gusts of wind.  Now all it needed was to have sticks and larger branches added to the flames.

"A lot o'my people 'ave magic." he added in response to one of the many questions thrown at him.  Well this would certainly keep him occupied for a good while, conjuring up answers to these questions that would make even the slightest bit of sense. "Most o'us on'y 'ave simple magic...like predictin' th'weather...or knowin' when there's a good fishin' day....pract'cle stuff and very small at tha'.  I've heard tha' some people act'lly 'ave power t'create fire an' things like tha'....or shoot power from their 'ands....bet tha' comes in 'andy when ye find yerself in a bit o'a tiff...."

He added a few more larger pieces of wood to the now beautiful looking fire and leaned back on his hands, letting the sea air whip across his face.  If he let his mind wander, he could almost imagine himself back on his ship....

"But none of yer tribe 'ave magic?" he asked, cracking his eyes opened with curiosity, "Tha' musta been some sickness...t'kill off all th'magic users.....d'ya think tha'...'cus I 'ave magic...tha' I migh' get it?"  That would be just his luck too...to show up completely stranded on this beach, island...thing...whatever it was...he wasn't even sure it was an island, and then get sick and die just because he had magic, "It sounds almos' like some'un purpos'lly killed th'magic in yer tribe..."  Of course it was just an observation, but as far as he knew, sicknesses spread the same between the magically gifted and normal humans...unless you had healing or something....but to have an illness just focus on magic...it seemed fishy...

no pun inteaded.

It as an effort not to blush when, after two strikes, the man already conjured up a spark. And then, on the third...it caught. Oh...jeez...um...well...he...he had just got it warmed up for him! Yeah, that was it...he'd gotten it warned up for him. That didn't make sense even as Kiyan thought it, but it did make him feel a little better. Nonsensical as it was, it was a lot better than thinking he totally sucked! And it was a lot better when he was trying to start a fire without someone watching, because then he didn't have to watch his tongue. For some reason, muttering obsenities while going about the business always seemed to make it work faster.

He wondered what the trick was...

But he didn't have to focus on the embarassment very long, because soon his focus was back on magic and this man that possessed it.

"Heh, yeah...I could cause a lot of damage with those pots, you know!" he grinned, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly as he remembered how cautious he'd been when he first approached Zarak. Oh man...if Zarak really had been dangerous, he certainly would have been kidding himself to think he could have been a match, now that he thought about it. He probably did seem kind of pitiful with only a small dagger and a bunch of jars.

And not being able to properly use a flint...

"Hey, about that magic...why wouldn't people like it? Or be scared of it?" he asked, setting himself to helping Zarak feed the growing fire. At least he could do that much; maybe he wasn't good at starting it, but he could keep the fire alive! "I mean...it's useful. Man, if we could use magic to predict the weather...or even control it...that would be great. I mean, if you can predict it, you can avoid a storâ€"ah...well...I mean, if you're not too far out at sea!" he added quickly, suddenly remembering how Zarak had gotten here to begin with and mentally slapping himself. "Erm...well...maybe not too much..but if you coud control it, you certainly could, right? What's bad about that? And making a fire with just your hands or...or...however you would make a fire with magic...just thinking of the fire and it would appear..." He blinked, unsure, really of how that would work. But, then, he knew nothing about how magic worked. "Heh...then I wouldn't have to worry about stupid flints..."

He muttered that last bit, shoving another dried strip of palm frawn into the growing fire. Man, he couldn't see why anyone in their right mind would think magic horrid. If they could change the weather, people wouldn't die so much out at sea. Right now, in the warm months, people didn't have to go out fishing, because so many sea creatures basked in the shallows, seasonal creatures taking advantage of the warm waters. But as the days grew shorter and colder, they were forced to go out with their nets, out onto the open water far from shore...and that was when it got dangerous...

If they could predict things like that or control it, his da would be alive today.

Not that he'd cried any tears over him...Kiyan couldn't remember him, because he'd been so young when the sea had swallowed him. But it would have been nice, still, to have known him.

And then it was Kiyan's turn to try and come up with a plausible answer to one of Zarak's own questions.

"Ah...the sickness? Um..." He hadn't thought about that. After all, nobody had magic here, nor had they had it for centuries, so...he couldn't say if it still even existed! He didn't know...all he knew was that it had killed only people with magic. "I...don't think so? I mean, we haven't had magic here for...for ages. I don't know if it even exists anymore. I don't think it does...it probably died out?" Not very convincing. And that thought was suddenly very disturbing. He'd never thought about it in the slightest until now...he'd never had a reason to, after all! It was simply history, an unfortunate part of his peoples' history that explained why they no longer had magic when older records claimed it had once been an ordinay part of their lives. And he'd never met anyone with magic before, either, so he'd never even had a reason to talk about it or explain the reason for his own lack of it. Not until now.

"...It was a long time ago," he finally said, offering a smile. Oh man, he didn't want to scare Zarak! Especially if it wasn't something to worry about. "And...and it might have just affected us! I don't think it would be alive today, because, well...a predator can't survive if it doesn't have prey, right? If it doesn't get prey for hundreds of years, all its kind die off." Whew. That made sense to him!

Glancing over at the jar of mussels, then at the fire, he frowned a little. When they normally boiled stuff, they had a special pot that could be hung over the fire, and he certainly didn't have the right tools here. Erm...guess he just had to do the next best thing? Looking over at Zarak, he lifted the jar and, slowly, began to just ease it right into the fire, carefully so as not to burn himself and slowly so that Zarak could stop him if he was doing something stupid! He hoped he wasn't...

"It is weird, but...but I don't know why anyone would do that...or who...or how...we don't have any enemies. I don't think."

Zarak didn't take any offense when the conversation about weather predition and control turned to the sea.  He knew the benefits, but he hated not being able to do anything about them.  Even with his powers, this storm had been hard to predict, like it had been hidden, or was so spontaneous that not even the best of weather mages could have predicted it...

Or...what if someone...somewhere had changed the weather?  He had heard stories that weather mages couldn't destroy a storm, but could only displace it, move it away from where they were in order to stay clear of it and by sending it away....the storm had landed right on top of them.

Damn!  No wonder he hadn't been able to predict it!  It had basically been created...summoned...by magic!  He was no mage, he couldn't tell if there was any magic laced in the rain, but thinking about it now...it all made perfect sense....

"Most o'th'time ye can predic' storms." he replied as he noticed Kiyan's sudden relucance to mention it, probably because he was afraid Zarak was scarred by the shipwreck and abandonment on some barren beach..."On'y, this time, I think tha' th' storm was made by magic...I can't control weather, but I've 'eard tha' when ye change it, ye just flip flop it wit sum other weather sumwhere else."  He wasn't sure if he had done a good job explaining it, or even if it made sense to someone who had never encountered magic before....

But he was sure that if he was unclear, Kiyan would probably ask about it.  It was nice, to be able to talk to someone who was actually interested in what you know...

"A lot o'people don' like magic 'cus they think it's evil.  They don' understan' it, so they fear it.  An' then there are others hoo don' like it 'cus of their 'istory.  Like...if in th'past a horde o'mages came an' attacked th'village, they'd see magic as sum kinda...evil trick tha' on'y 'urts an' destroys."  He leaned back on his hands with a sigh, watching the fire flicker away merrily as the wind fed it with a constant supply of oxygen, "Th' people 'hoo hate magic norm'lly don' see tha' ye can 'ave good an' bad people wit magic.  'ell...ye can 'ave good an' bad people wit swords and rapiers, or bows an' arrows.  I think it's just ignorance fer those 'hoo don' like magic 'cus o' th' bad people 'hoo use it."

He listened intently to the story of Kiyan's history.  It always intrigued him how certain people became who they were, or how a place evolved from the past generations.  It was strange though...to think that these people use to have magic but then they just suddenly died?  Every single one of the mages, or would be mages, in one area just...got sick and died....it still seemed strange and he wanted to learn more about it.

"D'ye think tha' yer tribe elders....erm...or leaders or whatev'r ye got would know an'more 'bout th' sickness?" he asked, watching his new young friend through the flames, "I think it'd be interestin' t'see wha; they say..."

Or what they're hiding... he thought to himself.

As the water heatedâ€"Zarak hadn't stopped him, so he must have done it right; now all that was left was to hope the jar didn't splitâ€"Kiyan listened intently as Zarak spoke, absorbing it all with interest. Everything was new, and...he just really liked this man's openness. He'd just met him, but he hadn't once taken offense at anything, didn't even seem annoyed, and was answering questions with a sincerity and earnestness that no one else he knew of had. Well, unless it was something that interested them, but no one seemed to want to talk about stuff that happened outside their tribe. And even though other tribes might trade with foreigners, they weren't much better.

But Kiyan's mind wasn't on all that.

You couldn't really control weather...you just exchanged it with a different weather pattern from somewhere else? He didn't understand how exactly it worked, but he understood the idea well enough, and...yikes...that did sound kind of dangerous, not something Kiyan would want to mess with if he had the ability! And Zarak was living proof of its danger; someone exchanged weather with where he'd been off the coast here somewhere, and he'd gotten the nasty storm that shipwrecked him! And probably swallowed up all the other people with him...nothing else had washed up yet that Kiyan could see, and he was a bit glad. If they were alive, that would be different, but most bodies that washed up, if they ever did, were dead and...and deaths by drowning were not pretty. Man...if stuff like that was the consequence for controlling the weather, it wasn't worth it. Well, unless you could do it without sending bad weather on some other unsuspecting person accidentally, but...

"Erk...yeah...I guess the whole controlling weather thing isn't too good of an idea, huh? It'd be nice to predict it good, but I don't know if I could ever live with the idea of even accidentally getting some poor fishermen swallowed up just so I could have sunshine," he said with a small shiver. "But I guess people don't really think..." Or maybe they just didn't care? If they couldn't see the bodies, if it was out of sight and out of mind, how could they? Kiyan could, but...that was just the kind of person he was. "But then, if it could also save lives...if switching out the weather could save your boat and all the people on it when the weather would otherwise drag it under...but you still don't know who'd be getting the bad weather you exchanged for the good..." He gave a grimace. Ugh...that was confusing...he could see both sides, but they all had benefits and consequences.

"But, yeah, still, even if some people use it foolishly...it's kind of silly to call it bad and get mad at everyone that has it. I mean, I could use a knife to kill someone, but I could also use it to carve a toy for a kid. Not the knife's fault, it's just a tool. And, uh...I wouldn't kill someone in the first place..." Well, that was a given. He didn't even know why he had to throw that in there, but, eh, he just had to make sure the man knew that, he guessed. Still, he did find it funny to label something as purely good or purely bad. Anything could be used for either. At least, that's what he'd always been taught. Maybe someone just had to show the people that believed magic to be all bad the good in it? Easier said than done, of course...especially if they hadn't been taught to see the duality of all things.

"Sounds like there's a lot of battles where you come from. Erm, well, not where you come from, but...in general?" He had to keep reminding himself that Zarak didn't come from a single place! Ack, that was confusing. "We haven't had any here for a long time. I don't even know why we had any to begin with. They don't make much sense to me."

And then came another question that took Kiyan by surprise.

"Um..." He shifted a little and fixed his skirt so he could sit cross-legged, and absently fed another leaf to the fire to give his hands something to do. Erk. He really, really hoped this wasn't going to lead to a question Kiyan would not be looking forward to answering: if they could visit his tribe. Really, really hoped...agh! He shouldn't have talked so much! But...it probably would have come up eventually...maybe... "Well...maybe...I don't know...they're not too good at answering questions...they get annoyed, say I'm too young. Uh...we have leaders and a shaman that helps advise and does other stuff, too...and her apprentice and stuff...ah, water's finally boiling!" he added suddenly, and immediately wanted to kick himself.

Hoo boy. That didn't sound nervous at all, nope.

The older man couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at Kiyan's sudden discomfort and the blatant change of subject.  It was almost amusing to think that he was just as bad at lying as himself!  But of course, it seemed like he had just taken it as feverish ramblings and Zarak had been saved akward questions....

Perhaps he wasn't the only one with secrets, but of course he wasn't going to call the bluff he felt was present, he would simply go along with it.  After all, if you keep pounding questions about a specific area that seemed a bit...sketchy....they'd eventually break, or hit a wall that they can't come down and then the secrets are revealed.

But...

Was that something that Zarak wanted to do? Make the poor boy uncomfortable just to find what he was hiding?  Wasn't that a bit...mean?

Pfft, right.  He was a pirate and this boys secret was his new gold.

Well...sorta...he supposed that if he did manage to get the truth, he'd have to give up his own secret and let the boy know that he was housing a pirate, even if he wasn't exactly keen on what they were.  It just made his resolve to get answers even stronger.  If he didn't know what he was, then he'd have no reason to be afraid of being killed or something along those lines.

"No questions, eh?" he replied, leaning foreward to look at the water that had begun to boil.  The mussels would be terrific!  He could basically taste them...."Them sure look good." he replied tearing his eyes away after a few moments of silent thought and turned his attention back to his friend.

Time for objective discomfort to progress.

"Well, even if I can' ask 'em any questions....I'll still need t'get sum supplies and stuff, an' ye too!  I can' believe ye've been livin' 'ere witout even a good pot!"

Now to see how he responded.  Maybe there wasn't anything to find, maybe he didn't like the elders or whatnot, or maybe they just weren't people to talk to.  Hmm..well this question would certainly answer his questions well enough....

Oh crap.

For a few seconds, all Kiyan could do was stare and try with all his might not to cringe. The man did worse than ask to see the othersâ€"he used irrefutable logic! He didn't have much here, and it was true, he had been planning to sneak back soon. Agh! Stupid, Kiyan! Stupid! But, then, what did he expect? Even if he hadn't blabbed so much about his tribe, Zarak was bound to ask, right? He'd want to know if he was alone here, he'd want to get supplies, even find a way to go home. But, then, it might not have been so soon if he hadn't blabbed about magic and why they didn't have it; he'd probably spooked him, now! But...but it had been bound to come up. He just had hoped it wouldn't come up so soon, that he would have had a believeable excuse or explaination worked out beforehand, one that could make it possible for him to somehow help Zarak with whatever he needed without exposing himself.

How? Well...he hadn't gotten that far. But it had sounded good at the time!

"Uh..." Aw man, he'd never been good at lying! He'd never liked to, either! Especially since it always seemed he got caught. And especially since this wasn't really something he could even see a way of working around in a way that would make sense and not make him sound guilty! He did need supplies. What would prevent him from going to his own tribe and getting some, and why was he even out here to begin with?

He bit his lip, hoping his expression wasn't as pained as he felt. "Um...well...you see..." Think!

Ah! Idea!

"I...I'm kind of on...a...a vision quest!" he said finally, and let out a deep breath. "You see, I'm...I'm supposed to be out here on my own for a week or so, can't have contact with the others for that long, and...I'm supposed to meditate out here, wait for a vision from my spirit guide, and fast." GYAH! Crap! Did he just say "fast"? No! Stupid, stupid! Hopefully the guy didn't know what that meant, he was hungry! Well, he could just say fasting didn't include fish... "It's a traditional sort of thing, for when you reach a certain age. Um...I shouldn't even be talking to anyone right now, but...I already know my guide, and it's just tradition to go the full span." Okay, he just needed to shut up now. Some deity was going to beat him for this, he just knew it. The age was twenty-one, and he was barely seventeen. And it was only seven days, not "a week or so". And it wasn't something you went about unsupervised! The shaman came with you!

Aw, damn...already he felt awful about saying all that...he hated lying! Ugh...what possessed him to say all that?!

"Wha?" Zarak replied, completely caught off guard with the answer that was thrown out there.  At first he had thought that he had caught him in his bluff...that his gut feeling that there was more to Kiyan's stuttering than the kid let on...

But what he said was completely plausible.  The pirate had heard of such rituals from the many different lands he had traveled to and each time he had continuously thought it was all a joke.  But that didn't matter.  Lots of tribes went through this trip to manhood...like a rite of passage or something.  So...perhaps...perhaps there really was a reason he was out here, by himself, with next to no supplies...and....

Waaaaaait a minute!

"Fast?"  Zarak raised his eyebrow, leaning back on his hands so he could look down his nose, a look that he had found gave the new cabin boys the shivers because they had apparently received the look a lot from their parents.  And it also seemed to make him look like he could see directly through them.  That was probably the reason....he sincerely hoped it wasn't just because he suddenly reminded them of their mom...that would be...weird...

"Ain't ye eatin' mussles?  Or did ye just 'appen t'collect 'em 'cus yer animal spiri' told ye I was gonna wash up on th'shore?"  Then he decided that the interogation needed to take a different turn.  He didn't want to weasle the truth from the poor kid, he wanted the truth to be told to him instead of stolen.  He respected peoples' personal privacy, but he still wanted to know what the hell was going on.

"Aie..per'aps I should just leave ye t'yer meditatin'" he changed his tactics with a sigh and started to rise to his feet, brushing the sand from the blanket that was wrapped tightly around his waist, "I don' wanna be th'un t'break yer tribal traditions"  strange as they may be "An' I certan'ly don' wanna keep ye from yer fastin'."  He walked over to his clothes, ignoring the rumble that echoed in his stomach.  He was hungry, but was sure that if this kid could find that many mussles, he'd certianly have no problems.

Ah....but he didn't have anything to boil them in either....well that made things a bit more difficult.  Maybe they weren't that bad raw?  He'd seen some cultures eat raw fish...but...maybe mussles were the same?  Some delicacy somewhere in the world.

He picked up the pants and was slightly annoyed to find they were still damp and would probably cling in all the wrong spots....not to mention his underwear was covered in sand...

That could NOT be comfortable....

Damn, he hoped that the kid would come and stop him...he didn't want to be walking around with sand scratching his ass.

Kiyan knew that look all too well.

It was the sort of look his oldest brother used to give him when he knew something he wasn't supposed to know.

...Like that Kiyan was hiding something. And then he'd usually go and try to get Kiyan to tangle himself in his own lie, rather than smack it out of him like his mother usually did, which he prefered much more than making himself look like an idiot!

Kiyan swallowed, and quickly averted his eyes to the boiling water, leaning over the jar a little and acting like he was checking it to see if the mussels had opened yet. Oh man, oh man...what possessed him to even start saying all that stuff?! Well, he had to think of somethingâ€"he didn't wanna go back to his tribe, and he didn't want his new companion to freak or think less of him or anything, because he really liked him, but...agh! Hadn't he screwed all that up by lying? Lying wasn't exactly a good way to start out a friendship. But...but what else would he have done? Oh man. Maybe it wasn't the same kind of look. Maybe it wasn't intentional. Maybeâ€"

The next question made Kiyan flinch. He knew that tone of voice all too well. Zarak knew...

"Fish...it...we...we're only not supposed to eat the unclean animals...like...like land ones...and stuff..." he said with a weak smile, wincing at the sudden meek note his voice had taken. And there he went again, keeping up the lie! Agh...he was stuck, now...he'd really screwed things up...oh man...Zarak knew about fasting...he'd travelled a lot, hell, he probably knew all about the tradition if it happened anywhere else! He knew...he probably knew. But...but...if he admitted wrong, then he'd have to tell the truth, and...and...

And then Zarak got up, said he would be on his way, and got his stuff.

Kiyan started with a small gasp, but then he quickly stopped himself. He could just let him go. He really liked him, but he still didn't know him that well, and...and he'd be fine on his own! Right? Maybe not...there...there was stuff out there...land animals that could be pretty dangerous...and then he might get lost...and he'd leave thinking he was a horrible person or something probably! And even if Zarak didn't know the truth and really thought he was out here fasting for real, and just wanted to be respectful, and if he got lost...Kiyan couldn't live with that idea! Any of them! Of putting someone in danger just because he was being stupid! And...and he'd been dishonest to him...and Zarak was nice...and...and...

His moral deliberation lasted all of a few seconds.

"Wait!" He was on his feet in a second and racing toward Zarak, quickly skirting around to stand in front of him. "Okay, okay! I'm sorry! I...I'm not really out here fasting, I'm too young, and I can't go back to my tribe, not now and...I'm sorry and...and...okay. You...you gotta promise not to tell anyone or anything, alright? Please? I...I swear I'm not a bad person or anything, it was all an accident!" he let out in a breathless, urgent rush, as though he was afraid that if he didn't speak it all quick enough he just wouldn't say it, all the while looking up at Zarak imploringly, almost torturedly, and nibbling his bottom lip nervously. Somehow, he kept his hands still at his sides though he really wanted to fidget. Ugh, he didn't even know who Zarak could possibly tell, but you never knew! And mostly, he was just afraid of what Zarak himself would say...

Oh jeez...he probably just incriminated himself right then and there. But it was his guily conscious speaking, and he never had been able to hold out long against such a feeling. Keeping a secret was hard when there were others around, especially someone he'd come to like and respect...and lying? Well, it was always only so long before that feeling of guilt and awfulness broke him and he was begging forgiveness and spilling his heart out.

He'd really created one heck of a tangled mess...

Zarak tried his hardest to look stern, like the responsable adult he was...er...should be.  But his adultish behavior lasted only a few moments before his face lit into a large boyish grin, a small laugh escaping his lips as he shook his head and looked at the sand.

The poor boy!  He was so worried that he wouldn't be accepted after revealing his secret...and the plea that he wasn't a bad person...it was all too much!  There was nothing that this kid could possibly have done that would match anything to Zarak's past, but of course, he didn't know that, otherwise he wouldn't have worried about telling a small secret that got him kicked out of his tribe!

"Don' ye worry yerself." he replied, laying his clothes back on the sand and slapping Kiyan lightly on the back, "I won' say nothin' t'anyun in yer tribe or anythin' an' ye shouldn' worry so much!  Yer face is priceless!"  And it was!  He looked so panicked that it was comical!  As if whatever he had done was the end of the world, or the end of his life if anyone else found out about it.

"An' I don' think tha' whatever ye're gonna tell me'll be tha' bad." he added, putting his hand around the kids shoulders and leading him back to the fire where the mussels were starting to crack open, showing that they were nearly ready to eat.  "I 'ave my own secrets too...an' I promise ye tha' I'll let ye in on sum o'them once yer done yer explainin'.  Then we'll both be relyin' on eachother t'keep a mighty secret.  If one o'us tells, th'other 'as full rights t'tell on 'im."

Nearling the fire, he took his arm from Kiyan's shoulders and took his place by the fire, leaning back on his hands so he could watch his new friend throughout the story.  He was pretty sure that there would be no falsities in the story, but just to be sure, he wanted a full view of his face.

Not that it mattered...

It seemed like they both were horrible liers when it came to simple things, and Zarak assumed that Kiyan knew that.  And considering how desperate he had been when imploring him to keep a secret, the pirate was pretty damn sure that it would all be truth.

Well...here he was, about to hear a troubling secret from some boy he had been rescued by on the beach and was about to tell his own.  

Oh well, it was just another adventure.  He just had to hope that the boys secret was bad enough that he wouldn't think about turning him in....

Kiyan wanted to melt with relief when Zarak's stern composure broke, turning suddenly to that grin that Kiyan was familiar with, and he gave a small, weak laugh of his own when Zarak slapped his back and told him not to worry, that he wouldn't tell...and that his face was priceless. "Heh...yeah...really?" Probably was now, too, he was so damned relieved; Zarak's face seemed more suited for grins than sternness, and seeing him so suddenly suspicious and stern had been really disconcerting, because it didn't seem like he was the type to get that way much, and...yeah, the change there had been scary. That look had reminded him of the adults of his tribe far too much, and that was a look he'd come to associate with "I'm screwed".

They wouldn't pat him on the back and tell him not to worry, or that it probably wasn't a big deal! And they certainly wouldn't let him in on any of their dirty little secrets from their younger years. After all, they were supposed to set a good example. Or something like that.

And they most certainly wouldn't hear him out on the full side of his story. Not when he was so obviously in the wrong.

"I promise to keep any of your secrets," Kiyan told Zarak softly, still reeling slightly from the whole situation, as he was guided back to their fire. "Thank you, by the way..." Maybe if the others in his tribe were more like Zarak he'd be more inclined to tell the truth. But there wasn't much incentive to be honest when truth or lie bore the same results. He still couldn't believe how different the man was...understanding, easy to talk to, non-judgmental, and here he was promising to let Kiyan in on some of the dirt from his own life, relating to him! He liked him more and more by the second. He just hoped he didn't do anything else in the future that would invoke that stern streak; seeing that was enough to give him a mini anxiety attack!

As Zarak took his place by the fire, Kiyan took a seat across from him with his legs folded beneath him. Guess it was time to spill everything, then. The sooner he got it all out, the better he'd feel.

Once Zarak was settled, he took a deep breath. "Alright...um...this is sort of embarrassing, to be honest..." he began, shifting his eyes down to his lap. "But...alright. So...a few months ago, I, ah, met this girl, Maricha. She wasn't from my tribe, but from one way further up the coast, a week's travel away, and she came with a small group of her people sent to trade. Normally, they'd only stay about a week or two to trade, rest, catch up on any news, and then be on their way back to their families, but one of them got bit by a mosquito and got real sick and feverish, so they decided to stay until he was better and could make the ride back. They stayed about five weeks total...our shaman had to work with the sick guy a lot, and he almost didn't make it, but she'd seen that kind of thing before...it doesn't happen a lot, but...ah..." He realized suddenly he was rambling. He didn't need to give a whole lecture on the history of trading and strange illnesses! "Ah, anyway...

"Maricha. She was my age, and pretty and smart, and she came with her uncle to trade her baskets. And...we hung out a lot...she was the youngest one that had come, and...we had a lot in common...and...yeah. So...while everyone else was busy doing their thing, not paying any attention to us, we'd go off together...I'd show her around...we'd talk...and...well..." He cleared his throat. "She always told me her uncle couldn't see us together, because he was overprotective and said she was too young for stuff like that. I was fine with that...even when...you know...things got more serious...because I liked her, and she said the same, and she promised she'd come on more trading trips to visit and when she was considered old enough by her family we could tell them and everything, and until then it'd be a secret and...well...one thing lead to another and eventually...a few days before she left...um..."

Kiyan hadn't raised his eyes once, and his tan face had darkened considerably by now in embarrassment. "Well...uh...yeah...we were together and stuff...alone...you know...like that...and...and..." He grimaced, and his voice took on a miserable, almost violated note as he bowed his head even lower, his cheeks burning. Ugh, this was so damned embarassing. "Her damned uncle had followed Maricha because he'd been wondering where she'd been disappearing to, and he found us! Like that. It...it was not pretty..." He cleared his throat again. "Anyway...he dragged us both back to my tribe, yelling the whole way, and somewhere in all that I found out that Maricha was...engaged. To a hunter back at her tribe; couldn't make the trip because he was needed. Arranged marriage sort of deal. I guess she didn't like him. She never talked to me after that, but...I like to think that...I guess..." It was better than thinking she'd played him for no reason!

"But...but then she started going off about how I seduced her! At first it sounded really funny...really ridiculous...I mean...I trusted her, and I don't think I look that type, or act it or whatever...but, uh...joke was on me, the uncle bought it of course." With a bitter sigh, he glanced briefly up at Zarak. "My tribe did too...bloody shaman's a woman, and Maricha put on the tears, and the man's supposed to be the responsible one because the woman's the meek one so...so...but like I would have thought she was engaged! Or thought to ask! She didn't bring it up and she told me that uncle story and all that other stuff! And I didn't 'seduce' her into nothing! But they wouldn't listen.

"So, long story short...the leaders and shaman of my tribe worked out a solution with the uncle that the uncle thought would work for him and Maricha's man, and that woud punish me. They'd take me back to their tribe...I'd belong to their tribe...and...well...among some of the things I heard, one of the last things I heard was...that they'd marry me off to, ah, some older lady that lost her husband recently! I don't know if they were joking or what, but the servitude part sounded better! Even getting the crap beaten out of me by Maricha's man sounded better! Well...that idea was never 'officially' posed, but...I know it'd happen! They were going to tell him when we all got to their tribe! A hunter!" Kiyan shivered, fidgeting with his necklace. "He'd kill me and make it look like an accident!

"My brothers weren't any help, either...they're all I have left anymore, but they're all married and have their own business to worry about...they thought the marriage thing was funny, and that...yeah...I'd put myself in that situation, so I had to deal with the consequences...they probably just want me out of their hair. But anyway...that was the night I left. I was kept under watch of course...because that was kind of a big issue, certainly doesn't look good on my own tribe...but everyone falls asleep eventually, and no one's used to keeping watch like that, so once my watchers fell asleep, I grabbed a few things that were in the room with me, slipped away and ran. And...I found this place. But...I didn't have much with me...and...well...I've had to go back a few times...get some supplies...and...so...I've been here since...about a week."

Long story finished, he looked back up at Zarak. Whew. He hadn't meant it to turn into so much of a rant, but...but he couldn't help but be bitter about a lot of that, of not being believed, and of being backstabbed to begin with. He wasn't sure which part bothered him more. "So...that's why I can't go back...and then I'll probably be in even more trouble because I ran away and stole stuff. I didn't want to, but I'll bring it back. Whenever I can go backâ€"and not worry about getting given away. If I'm not found first. I'll...probably have to move from this place soon...dont know how long before they look, if they even are looking..."

In a strange way, while he hoped they weren't looking, he would also be hurt to know they weren't. Odd how that worked.

But whatever the case, now that he'd spilled everything, it felt like a huge weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He didn't have to hide anything from Zarak...and that was a great feeling.

Even if it didn't make any of this any less embarrassing.

"To be honest...I'm not even sure how much I really want to go back..." he muttered at length, lowering his eyes down to the sand.

Zarak listened intently to the entire tale, making mental notes of certain comments that he wanted to make after Kiyan finished.  He knew very well how trying it could be to relate a terrible secret so someone and it was best not to interrupt the teller.  Getting everything off of your chest in the beginning was far better then having to tell it in chunks.

Well, at least to him.

But he couldn't help thinking that that Maricha girl was nothing more than a whore.  From the sound of things she had used him for her own pleasures and whether or not she had meant for it to go so far, the fact of the matter was that she had just as much responsibility in the situation.  Zarak couldn't help but chuckle at the thought of women being "meek"  or the "weaker of the sexes".  He had been aboard too many ships to ever think that again.  Sometimes, it was a woman who could be a man's ultimate downfall.  Where she lacked in physical strength, mental strength they tended to have in spades.

"Any'un who tells ye tha' a woman is meek ought t'be stabbed." he remarked after Kiyan had finished, "I've seen enough women t'know tha' they can be jus' as manipulative as any o'th'men.  I think tha' yer tribe needs t'learn tha' they are jus' as involved in some situations as a man."  He sighed and pulled a fistfull of sand, the lighter grains mixed evenly with the darker ones.

"It's like th'sand.  They all feel th'same, an' they all do th'same thing.  Th'on'y diffrence is in th'color.  She did ye wrong.  I can' believe tha' yer people though' ye were capable o'sumthin' like tha'" he remarked with a wink, "Yer far too trustin' t'be a seducer.  Not t'mention I've met quite a few o'tha' type in my travels....an' they were norm'lly complete bastards, th'whole lot o'em."  He sighed and watched the grains slowly sift through his fingers and back onto the beach.

"I don' blame ye fer any o'it.  Though most people'll see sex as a 'orrible crime afore marriage...it's a fantasy world they live in, if they think it don' 'appen.  But like magic, ye can' change peoples opinions.  Jus' gotta live wit th'closed minded."

"An' I don' blame ye for not wantin' t'go back.  Yer people treated ye wrong an' that'll stick ferever"  He rubbed his wrist, feeling the bump of the brand that would forever mark his tanned skin.  Where Kiyan would be able to go anywhere and start over, he had that mark and it would stay with him forever.  Any hope of starting a new life was completely lost to Zarak.  Maybe that was why he kept going to back to the pirate business?  Or perhaps it was just the pull of the sea, the want to be on its choppy waters and be able to say that he lived through storms again and again....and then this last one.  So far he was the only survivor....that he knew of.

"Bu' next'ime ye feel like lettin' yerself loose....I'd 'ave t'recommend a tavern girl.  Migh' save ye future trouble"  The boyish grin was back, marking his statement as merely in jest, but it was also true.  You could pay for good service if you really wished it....but something told him that Kiyan wasn't the type of man to pick up random girls off the street just for a few hours of pleasure.

Hell, Zarak had gone through that phase, but after a few turns he realized that it wasn't anything like it was talked up to be.  In fact, he found it more annoyingly expensive then anything.  Not like he needed to watch his spending much....but he still felt like he was throwing his money into a river just to see if it would sink or float as it was swept away.

Nah, he was finished with girls.  He had found that most of the time they were plotting something and always found ways to gain followers.  Most of the time they could be more of a seductress then a man!  There was no way that he would blame any man for getting in trouble just because a girl is supposidly weak minded.

Bah...that stereotype needed to be tortured slowly out of existance.

Kiyan couldn't agree more with Zarak's commentary on women. He'd never bought that stereotype, and had rather resented it; his mother had been strong, mind and body, for as far back as he could remember. She'd raised he and his three brothers, practically all by herself after his father had died, and she certainly had never been afraid of giving anyone a piece of her mind, man or woman alike. Maricha hadn't fit the mold, either; she'd been an independent spirit, unafraid of taking chances, and that was what he'd liked about her. And, as he had learned all too well...she'd also been manipulative. But...had she been? She'd sold him out to save herself her end of the punishment, and she'd lied to him, but had she meant it to go that far? Or had she really just been using him all along, a form of rebellion against a marriage she hadn't wanted, or just a toy for her own desires? He wrestled with those ideas a lot.

But it was exactly as Zarak said. Men, women...they had the same capabilities. Like the sand, they were all built with the same basic structures; there were just some differences here and there. And yet, women were always painted as the vulnerable ones...and yet hadn't he been taken advantage of? Well, he wasn't going to pout over it, though the wound there was still tender. All he could do at this point was lay low. Not that he minded at all at this point; he had a new companion, and he actually understood what Kiyan was talking about, and, what was moreâ€"he didn't look down on him for any of it, nor did he fault him or patronize him. He sided with him.

Kiyan grinned as he winked and assured him that he knew the seducer type and he didn't fit it. Well, that certainly made him feel better...

This whole conversation made him feel better, freer.

And something about the way Zarak talked made him think he probably knew a lot about women. Pfft, of course he did! He was years older than him, had travelled lots, so of course he had a lot of experiences with women and would know these things!

Still, one thing was certain, though, at least for the while: Kiyan was taking a break from women. Wasn't like he'd been with many to begin with, and definitely not in the same way as with Maricha, but after that...he was in no rush! And he'd definitely make a point of finding out certain bits of information before doing anything.

Like if she's already taken. Though, come to think of it, if he'd asked Maricha to begin with, what if she'd said no?

Ugh, the whole thing hurt his head. Why couldn't people just be honesâ€"ah, crap. But...but he'd had a very valid reason not to have been honest! He'd been scared! A lie to protect yourself wasn't bad...and he'd fessed up, anyway!

Kiyan shifted a little, stretching his legs out in front of him as their folded position began to grow cramped. "Yeah...my tribe's very traditional. They don't like the idea of...ah...sex before marriage...they consider it a sacred act...the final step of dedicating oneself to a single person for life..." Which also meant it wasn't something to be talked about openlyâ€"which made this particular conversation rather awkward, if oddly relievingâ€"but was to be kept private between lovers. Kiyan didn't agree with a lot of that, obviously. A lot of that just sounded silly to him, and after Maricha, well, the way he saw it, it was a special thing, but not sacred. It wasn't something he'd do with just anyone, but he didn't see why it should be held on such a pedastal.

"It's special and all, but...you can be dedicated to someone and not be married, and unfaithful to someone while married, right? As long as there's a strong bond there, it doesn't matter when...that...happens, right?" Well, so long as they wouldn't turn around and stab you. "But...I think they were all most angry because, well...they considered what happened to be on par with adultery. On my end. I think." He sighed, raking his fingers through the sand in front of him absently, leaving five small rents in the soft sand. "I wish I'd known...I wouldn't have gotten involved if I did...but...I guess in an odd way it's kind of good. If it hadn't happened, I wouldn't have been here and you'd probably be wandering around aimlessly, huh?" he added, flashing an optimistic grin as he looked up from the sand and at his friend. It was always best to look on the positive side!

"But I have no idea where I'd go...all the tribes here know each other. I'd be found out in only a matter of time, no matter where I'd go, and I don't know if I'd want to go back or not...it's all mixed and...what? Let loose...?" He blinked green eyes, suddenly confused by Zarak's sudden recommendation. But Zarak was wearing that mischievous grin, and something about that, and their earlier conversation, made him guess it had to be some bawdy reference. Which in turn also brought a new, involuntary flush to his cheeks. "Ah...tavern girl?" Yeah, that also gave it away. He didn't know what this "tavern" was, but he could only guess. And he wasn't quite so sure if he should ask.

Scratching the back of his head, Kiyan gave a sheepish laugh. "Well, jeez, if I ever meet another girl, I know now who to run her by," he commented jokingly, though, heck, maybe he wasn't joking and really would try that approach! Heh, didn't sound too bad, actually.

A few moments passed, and then Kiyan added, suddenly serious again, ""Thank you, Zarak. For hearing me out and everything..."

Zarak couldn't help but have his eyebrows contract slightly when Kiyan spoke about being "unfaithful when married".  It seemed to him that the boy didn't exactly know what sex meant to the world....it wasn't necessarily a sacred act to any extent, but if you loved someone you certainly wouldn't just go about and sleep with every girl you could lay your hands on!

"Hmm...well actu'lly...." how was he going to word this without sounding hypocritical?  It was like a double standard actually...where guys would fool around and be fine, but girls....hmmm...and it wasn't as if he was particuarly chaste himself...."If ye love some'un, ye wouldn' 'ave t'go and "do tha'" wit jus' any'un.....When ye dedicate yerself to one person....ye gotta stay tha' way.  All eyes jus' fer 'er, but until then, feel free t'try out diff'rent things."  wow....that really didn't make much sense....but perhaps he'd gotten the right vibe across?  That...perhaps it was sacred when doing it with someone you love because you wouldn't have any thoughts of going out and sleeping with someone else because your woman would always fill that desire.....

"I don' know 'ow good I described it t'ye....seein' tha' I've never been in love afore...but from talkin' t'me shipmates who find 'emselves in tha' situation."  It was rare but it did happen and the poor fools would swoon over their work stations, swearing to the sea god that he could see her face in the waves smiling at him.  Of course...most of the times the lady didn't feel the same way to the pirate...in fact it usually ended in scorn and a one sided love...

but that wasn't the point.

"An' don' worry 'bout it." he replied, scratching his head to try and get out the sand that was still stuck in the thick curls that were slowly rebelling against everything that had been weighing them down.  "It's not ev'ry day tha' I get th'chance t'talk t'some'un all friendly like....it's nice."

He sighed inwardly, unable to help the feeling that after he reveiled his own secrets that Kiyan would no longer be that generous with his past.  But...perhaps he'd be pleastanly surprised, eh?

"Now, I'm guessin' tha' ye are waitin' t'ear all th'great stories o'my past." he winked, putting on the playful boyish facade that had hidden his nerves many times before.  Well...he might as well start in the beginning then.

"Firs' off....I really do like mussles"  he grinned sheepishly, "I jus' never seen a man wearin' a skirt afore I saw ye...it was a bit diff'rent."  Ok..so not exactly the beginning but hey....it was at least breaking the ice.....and after all, it was the only lie he had told the kid, the other stuff was just hidden from him in case the truth would scare him away.  But after hearing his question about what are pirates, Zarak felt quite a bit more confident that he wouldn't be on his way to the nearest noose for his pillaging crimes....

"An' I guess th' second'll 'ave t'be this."  Leaning around the fire, he held out his wrist to Kiyan could see it, the redish silver "P" clearly visible in the sunlight.  Maybe he wouldn't have any idea what it was...but maybe he was smart enough to link two and two together.  Zarak's own questions about his knowledge on pirates, along with his two sided explaination of what they were like.  And if he didn't realize what the P meant, he'd probably be bright enough to see the brand as a type of criminal mark...that Zarak had been caught before and escaped with just a warning.

Heh...warnings never worked, the call of gold and adventure would always be too strong in a real pirates mind.  Although Zarak had learned when to be gold hungry, and when to care about his life.  Unfortunately the captain had fallen asleep during that lesson leaving him and the rest of his crew swallowed by the mercilless depths of the ocean, however far out to sea they had been.

And frankly...Zarak was still amazed that he was alive....

Kiyan blinked a few times at Zarak's explanation...and then suddenly laughed when he realized how some of what he'd last said might have been vague. "Oh! No! No, you definitely have to stick with one person once you find that person! I...I wasn't suggesting cheating on someone you're dedicated to!" he said quickly with a wince. "What I meant was being married to someone isn't going to make someone more or less dedicated to a person, that already has to be there.  And forcing people to get married...I don't see how that could solve anything...it'd probably make it worse. That's why, I don't know...marriage seems kind of funny to me, I guess."

But even after that, and especially after Zarak's explanation, the rest of what Zarak said was infinitely confusing and seemed to go against everything else.

"Try...out...?" Kiyan repeated slowly, his eyebrows climbing. What...what did that mean? Try out women? But...but what about dedication? Oh man, if any of the elders heard Zarak now, they'd have a fit! And while Kiyan knew he hadn't been in love with Maricha, though he had really liked herâ€"and might have possibly come to love her, if certain things hadn't happenedâ€"well...he couldn't see doing that with someone you didn't at least like a lot, if not love. But, then again...even if he didn't agree with everything he'd been taught, especially after experiencing such things for himself, there were some things that did run deep. But maybe not everyone everywhere else thought that way? But...ack, he didn't get it. It didn't seem compatable with everything else that was said.

He gave a nervous laugh, still sifting his fingers absently through the sand. "Ah...heh...my tribe...well, with them, you do any 'trying out' and they find out, you'll find yourself married off to the girl you were 'trying out' with. I'm sure that threat doesn't stop everyone...erm...I'm a prime example...but it happens. Only reason I wasn't married to Maricha was she wasn't from our tribe, and she was already taken..." he said with a grimace and slight blush. It was still awkward to actually talk about it, and Zarak was certainly direct! Well, at least, more direct than anyone from his tribe.

"But...ah...this 'trying out' thing...I don't know if I could do that. There'd have to be something there. I don't know if I loved Maricha, but I really liked her, and I wouldn't have even thought of being with other people while with her, even if we hadn't gotten to the point of real dedication, so to speak..." That just seemed wrong. Even if his tribe wasn't the way it was, it still didn't seem right. Or maybe he was missing what Zarak was saying completely.

Agh, this was confusing!

In any case, he was glad of the subject change.

And, as promised, just as he'd spilled his secrets, Zarak was about to share some of his.

And the first one was...

Something Kiyan wouldn't have expected.

For a few seconds, Kiyan just stared at Zarak. And then the laughter kicked in as the hilarity of it all registered, as he thought back and remembered...remembered... "So that's why you kept coughing! You were trying not to laugh, weren't you? And here I thought you must be ill...and wondered how your sea-faring people survived so long," he admitted, scratching the back of his head and chuckling still. "Never seen a man in a skirt?" he asked incredulously. "Heh, well, if you came to our village, you'd be in for quite a shock. Everyone wears them, except hunters on hunts, then they wear what you do. Er, did. No one wears them where you come from? They all wear as many layers as you? The smaller ones?" he asked before he could help it, grinning. Well, it seemed they were equal there, then. Zarak found his skirt amusing, and Kiyan found those smaller clothing articles amusing, as well.

Well, in any case, that ice-breaker sure explained why he had looked so awkward wearing just that...skirt-like...blanket. Oh man...that was great!

He was still smirking when Zarak held his wrist out to him for confession number two, and Kiyan scooted closer to better see, then blinked. "P"? Kiyan recognized that kind of mark. Not the mark itself, but he knew what made it, and recognized it as an old burn wound. It was obviously not an accident it was there, and it looked like it had probably been highly painful, but "P"? He squinted slightly, searching his brain for anything significant to tie in with the letter. Erm...was he supposed to know what itâ€"?

Wait a minute. What...what had Zarak been asking him about when they'd first really started talking, a subject he'd seemed really interested in, which started with a "P"...

"...Pirate...?" he asked very slowly, almost cautiously, as he glanced back up at Zarak. "Ah...that what it means? You...got caught by one? Or...you are one...?" Maybe he was way off. But it was the only "P" word he could think of that would be remotely relevant, though he still didn't want to make any assumptions or jump to any conclusions.

Suddenly realizing how he must have sounded, he added quickly, shoving away his shock to make room for a more upbeat tone, "Don't worry! I won't tell anyone, even if there was someone to tell, even if you are or were one or whatever! I mean, I promised not to...and I trust you." Oh man. There it was. Zarak had been dead on when he'd said he was far too trusting, and it was true. But he had no reason not to trust Zarak... "I mean, if you weren't trustworthy...you wouldn't be telling me anything. And you're too nice, anyway," he added with a small smile. Gods, but wasn't that the truth; he hadn't known anyone like him before. "If you were dangerous, you could have done harm a long time ago."

Maybe it was because he didn't know much about pirates, save what Zarak had told him, but...even if Zarak was one, he couldn't see how that would change anything. He'd meant it when he'd said there was good and bad in everyone, and, well...wasn't it more important who someone was rather than what they were? And the man was nice, someone Kiyan had come to see as a friend. And hadn't he been mortified that Zarak would think differently of him once he spilled out his secrets? Well, Zarak probably felt the same.

Zarak's own hearty laugh filled the air as Kiyan spoke about how he had also been a bit alarmed at all the different layers that the poor shipwrecked soul had worn!  It was ironic that they both felt the same way and could easily get a good laugh out of that simple oddity they both had seen.

"Yeah, I'm sure tha' if all yer people wear skirts tha' my clothes did look a bit diff'rent!  But I dunno...maybe I can get use t'wearin' 'em...lookin' all pretty like..." he couldn't help but stiffle another cough at the thought.  After his clothes were dried he was running back to them with his tail between his legs.  He felt so....vulnurable?  Is that it?  He felt vulnurable walking around in womens garb....and it made him wonder how so many of them did that on a daily basis.  Certainly gave him a certain respect for them.

But after the laughter, he couldn't help the fear that slowly crept up his spin as Kiyan worked out what he was showing him.  Zarak didn't know whether the hesitation was fear...indecision on what he could do...or just figuring things out....he desperately hoped for the latter, unwilling to give up the one person he had been able to talk to normally in ages....even the crew members had been a bit stiff around him, mostly because of his higher rank.  But Kiyan....he was such a trusting guy...pure....it was different being able to talk to someone like him, and actually be accepted!  There was certainly a shock!

Well, perhaps he wouldn't have talked to him had he known the truth...

Zarak breathed a sigh a relief when his young friend quickly added that his secret was safe.  Well that was good!  Now he didn't have to worry constantly about looking behind him for someone looking to hang a noose around his neck!

"I am a pirate." he replied to Kiyan's stuttering unasked questions, "Th'brand was given t'me when I was caugh' abou'...4 years ago.  My ship was caugh' by th'patrolin' ships in th'arbor.  Mos' o'th'men got away...bu' me'an a few weren' fast anough.  We spen' time in th'prison fer a good month I'm sure...but it was so 'orrible down there tha' it coulda been on'y a week an' it woulda felt like a month.  Those o'us who answered questions were let go wit on'y a brand an' a warnin' not t'continue bein' all pirate-like.  I answered their questions..." he grinned at the memory, his eyes sparkling mischieviously, "But it wasn' until a few weeks later tha' they realized th' information wasn' true."  he chuckled to himself before looking back up at Kiyan.

"I actu'lly thought 'bout not goin' back...I 'ad enough to 'ate pirates over...but it 'ad become my life....I couldn' just stop....th'sea was my land, my 'ome." he looked out at the cresting waves, longing pulling at his heart as he wondered just how long it would take him to find another boat....or worse yet, if he even wanted to find another boat.  The storm had done enough to shake his nerves completely...

Pretty-like? Skirts? Kiyan couldn't help but feel a bit confused about that comment, but he decided he'd ask later. There were more important things to talk about now.

Maybe he was being naive, but pirates stole stuff, Zarak had said, and if he were to suddenly look at Zarak differently for that, he'd be a hypocrit himself! He'd stolen things himself these past few days, though he hadn't wanted to. But he had to. He wasn't proud of any of it, but it certainly did give a different perspective. Like anyone, he'd been taught it was wrong, and that those who did it were bad, but...now he'd learned first hand that sometimes you just had no choice. Or that the only other choice you did have was far worse than the option of committing a crime.

Well, maybe there was still another option Kiyan could have taken. He could have eaten his food raw, he supposed. Figured out a way to light a fire without a flint. Made a trip to the spring each time he was thirsty. But all of those were inconvenient, and even dangerous. People got horribly ill from eating uncooked fish sometimes, and if he got sick out here alone, he'd dehydrate in no time.

Zarak probably had his reasons. And whatever those were, Kiyan wasn't going to suddenly act different around him just because he had a history! Maybe that was foolish. Kind and open or not, he still didn't know very much about the man he'd rescued, and it could turn out that he was really a killer or something. Then again, if he was, he wouldn't have been giving him advice and confiding in him. And hell, he thought he'd even heard Zarak breathe a sigh of relief after he'd told him his secret was safe. A violent man wouldn't need to feel relief over something like that, wouldn't have to rely on someone to keep a heavy secret. A violent man could simply snap the neck of anyone who didn't agree, and out here all alone, no one would know the difference.

Erk...why was he even thinking about that? Not a good thought. Not that he thought it of Zarak.

He didn't. He didn't have a reason to. And, quite frankly, he didn't want a reason to. He liked him too much! Pirate or not, even though he still didn't know the full implications of the word. All he knew was that, like Zarak had said earlier, just like anyone there was the good that had nowhere else to go, and the bad. Zarak was definitely the good. And Kiyan could relate. Well, with some things.

"Prison?" Kiyan repeated the unfamiliar word, brow furrowing a little in confusion as he listened to Zarak. Down there...where was there? But he wasn't as interested in that as he was about something Zarak had left unspoken. "What happened to the other people? The ones that didn't answer?" he asked quietly. This prison, from the way Zarak described it, even vaguely, didn't sound pleasant, especially if it was a punishment...

The burn also confused him a bit. He knew now what it meantâ€"it was another punishment, a mark of shame it seemedâ€"but why? Kiyan never could understand using that as a means to punish. If people were expected to stop doing something, then why would they be permanently marked at something? It seemed to him that being singled out like that would only make returning to a normal life more difficult. If Kiyan had been from where Zarak was and knew ahead of time what a pirate was and what that mark meant, and he had seen it, wouldn't he have been inclined to judge him and dislike him like so many of Zarak's people did?

It was a disturbing thought. Here Zarak was, to him, a great person, and if he had been like Zarak's people, he would have probably never given him a chance...

"I know what you mean about the sea...it's my home, too, and I could never leave it. Heh, it's said my people have salt in their blood from being near it so long. You probably do too, if you feel so strongly about it. But...Zarak...didn't pirates attack your ship when you were young?" he asked, then quickly held up his hands. "You don't have to answer! Just curious. I don't know if another tribe attacked mine that it would be easy for me to accept them. But...I don't know much about pirates. I just know about you," he told him with a reassuring smile.

Did pirates attack his ship when he was young...

Well there would be the easy answer, the one that would make most sense, and then there'd be the truth.  His parents had raised him on the notion that pirates were evil men, that their kind didn't deserve the light of day.  After the attack he believed that all of those stories were true...the killings....murder, rape, pillaging....that's what had happened to his ship...his safe haven as they had sped toward a new home.

Why had he taken to them?  To people who had murdered his family along with the hopes and dreams of a ten year old boy.  He had been rebellious...for nearly a year he had fought ever step of the way, spitting in their food whenever he could, rubbing salt in every wound he could find, mentally and physically. And even with each punishment for his actions, those men on that ship had continued to keep him....convinced that he would soon become one of them, that his cabin boy days would soon turn into pirate in training.....he was like treasure to them.  Each time he did something hateful, they had relished in it, seeing the anger that could easily be used for their aide.  

But after that year?  What had happened to change his mind?  To let him accept his fate and join with it?  What could possibly make him see such murdering folk as pirates as....kin....

Then he remembered.

There was an old pirate they had taken on board from another pirate ship they had just destroyed....using his broken body as sport as they watched him squirm and beg for mercy.  He had been cleaning the deck and hearing that man's pleas in a language that he understood very little of, he stopped his work and stepped in front of the flailing boots, protecting him from any further blows.  He had never heard a pirate beg before...perhaps that was why he knew that this man was different from the crew he had become a part of.

When the men gave up on making their treasure boy move, they walked away, leaving the old fool to die in his own broken shell....And in his last few moments the man looked at him....his blue eyes so understanding....so...kind....and he had whispered ...

No man can choose 'is fate, boy....bu' ya can choose t'figh' an' loose, or twist it t'yar own likin's

That was when he knew what he needed to do.  Fate chose him as a pirate, but fate would not destroy his soul.  Fate had given him hell, and he was going to give it hell right back.  One day he would be a captain of a vessel...he'd become well known, and every pirate would know that they could continue their lives without being heartless....

"Yes...." he muttered after a few moments of silence that made it seem like he would not answer Kiyan's question, "They attak'ed....killed every'un on board....but I fought over my parents bodies.....an' I guess they though' I was good enough t'be on o'em....."  He paused, wondering how to phrase his story.  After all, he certainly did have quite unusual circumstances....perhaps the best way to have Kiyan understand....

"No man can choose 'is fate....but ye can choose t'fight an' loose, or ye can twist it t'yer own likin's."

With that he stood and walked over to the edge of the ocean where the water just barely touched his toes.  He stood there and stared out into the sea, still trying to sort out his own feelings.  He had never told any one his past before, at least not in detail...and part of him struggled with revealing it all to Kiyan.  Part of him wanted to...wanted to let someone know that he wasn't some heartless bastard of a man who went around haphazardly killing on a whim...raping when he so desired....those men sickened him....and when he had his own ship....he had planned on punishing men like that....

But now it seemed like that dream had been completely dashed....now he wasn't even sure if he could find a boat to own...or if he even wanted to.....

With a silent curse he looked at the crashing waves farther out at sea.  The storm was slowly rolling in, and part of him wanted to be sucked up with the winds.  He felt almost responsible for the loss of such good men...yes, that band of pirates had been good men.  It was possible to be that....but too many people could never look past the branded "P" on his wrist....any store owner could turn him away if they saw that, claiming to any patrolling officer that he had tried to steal from them...threatened to hurt their family...and they would believe them.

All because of that fucked up letter....

Kiyan stayed behind when Zarak rose and walked to the shore, staring down at the sand in front of him as he thought about everything Zarak had told him. He hadn't said much, but what details he had given him had hit hard. Fighting over the bodies of his parents...killed everyone on board...pirates killed, too...they didn't just steal, they killed...Kiyan couldn't even imagine what that must be like. He knew all too well how painful it was to lose a loved one, for he'd lost his mother only last year, but to have them killed...to see people die right in front of you...

Gods...

Kiyan was almost sorry he'd asked the question. He just couldn't see Zarak that way, and he certainly didn't fear the man; he was a friend. But it wasn't because he was afraid that Zarak had killed, too, and even if he had...he...he'd certainly have had to have a good reason behind it, because as far as Kiyan could tell, he was a good person. And after what he had been through as a child, why on Earth would he ever want to kill needlessly? No, that wouldn't make sense; Kiyan couldn't see Zarak ever doing that, not the man that smiled mischievously and spoke so honestly, so openly and patiently, as though he'd known Kiyan forever. No, rather he was afraid he'd upset him, dredged up memories that the man had been trying to keep at bay...

He knew it hurt him, having to remember his mother lying on her pyre, her face pale and smooth and peaceful in death, just before the kindling was lit and her little boat eased out to sea, out to the sea's embrace to finally rejoin her lover, the father he'd been too young to remember. But he hadn't known...he hadn't known Zarak's family had been killed...the whole ship...

That was horrible...

But horrible or not, Kiyan thought he understood. Zarak's words helped him to.

Fate had taken his family from him in the form of pirates. While Kiyan had claimed he would never have been able to accept the same people that would attack him...maybe Zarak had thought the same way, and had lost. And now he was twisting it to his own liking. Was that it? He was a pirate, but not one of the ones that deserved to be hated. He was fated to be a pirate, but he'd twisted it, hadn't let fate change who he truly was...that made sense.

And fate had lead him here. It was odd really, now that he thought of it...Zarak could have washed up on any shore, but he'd washed up here, alone, where he was also alone...

Or maybe he was just thinking too deeply. He didn't know if he fully understood. All he knew was that those words were...different. They stuck with him, and he couldn't help but keep thinking about them.

And he couldn't help but think he'd upset Zarak, a thought which bothered more and more by the second. He shouldn't have pried so deeply...he shouldn't have...

He rose to his feet after a few moments, dusting sand habitually from the back of his skirt, and made his way slowly and quietly over toward Zarak where he stood staring out at the rolling clouds that gradually blackened the sky. In the distance, Kiyan thought he could hear the faint warning rumble of thunder; it looked like it would be a good storm, but he hoped not a violent one.

Silently, Kiyan stepped beside Zarak, off to the side and just a little behind him, cautious and careful so as not to intrude rudely on any private thoughts. He'd be as gentle as possible.

He stood quietly beside him for a few, just watching the sea, watching the waves begin to respond to the storm's pull, and then slowly, almost hesitantly as though afraid of how he'd react, he reached out and placed a hand lightly on Zarak's shoulder. Reassuringly. "For what it's worth...I think I understand," he finally said quietly, voice respectfully low. "I know you're a good person, Zarak, and...I'm sorry. I shouldn't have pried..."

It was just strange for him to see Zarak so suddenly quiet and withdrawn...saddening, really...

As each wave crested and broke against the wet brown sand, Zarak felt as if his worries and fears were slowly swept back out into the sea where they would fall to the depths of the ocean and reside there for the rest of time.  His heart was heavy with the memory of his darker past, but with each passing moment he realized that he was not one to live in woe...in self-pity.

Just because he had somewhat of a dark past, didn't mean that he would let it hinder his future.  If every man who had lost their family let it run their lives, most of the world would be in mourning.  Hell if he would let himself be the one restricted.  He was a pirate now, that had been his fate and he would just have to deal with it.  Even if he never found a way to get on a ship and continue his upward trend toward owning his own ship, he would always be a pirate and...perhaps he would be able to work toward truth about his "people".  Not all of them were horrible, in fact, more often then not, people who were pirates had reasons very similar to his own in choosing that career.

When Kiyan's hand touched his shoulder, Zarak was pulled back from his thoughts and realized how melancholy he was being.  That certainly was a bit against his personality!

"Don' worry 'bout it." he replied, turning to his young friend, the boyish grin returning to erase the sudden case of sorrow, "Ye didn' ask anythin' tha' I wouldn' 'ave asked o' ye."  He winked, trying to convince him that he was fine, and that the boy hadn't asked anything wrong.  "Look at us!" he replied with a laugh, "All sad an' worryin' 'bout stuff tha' ye can' do nothin' 'bout."  looking back at the small fire with the boiling mussles he nodded his head back towards it.

"What d'ye think?  Should we get back t'th' mussles ye've put on?"  In reply to his question, his stomach growled loudly, reminding him that he hadn't eaten in....who knows how long!  He couldn't put a time to now long he had been drifting in the ocean, fading in and out of unconsciousness.  But that didn't matter...all that mattered right now was that he could get back to that pot and start a great mussle dinner.

Kiyan was relieved when Zarak spoke, relieved to see his boyish grin and wink returnâ€"and glad that he hadn't inadvertantly hurt him! He knew he talked a lot, and asked a lot of questions without really thinking about them, and even now he was being conservative in his conversation with the man! He still didn't want to overwhelm him or anything...especially not by stirring up memories best left alone. While he wanted to learn about Zarak and found his life fascinating, the last thing he wanted was to learn anything at his friend's expense. Though, at the same time, he knew Zarak was right, and that he shouldn't feel bad for prying when it was all information his friend had offered up freely, promised, even. And Kiyan respected that, and trusted the man all the more for it; he no longer felt apprehensive about sharing pieces of his own story with him, no longer feared any sort of impending judgment.

He didn't have to worry about that with Zarak.

And if there was one thing he'd learned, it was that Zarak had a knack for making a gloomy situation suddenly light and cheery!

He laughed when Zarak's stomach growled loudly and suddenly, as though voicing its own opinion on the matter. Well, if nothing else could lighten the mood, random body functions always did the trick! "Yeah, we'd better get back to the mussels fast. I'm almost afraid of what your stomach would do to me otherwise...," Kiyan quipped with a grin. Slapping Zarak lightly on the shoulder in a playful imitation of what Zarak had done to him when he'd been down, he turned and began leading them back toward their little camp, glad for the change in mood. Zarak didn't seem like one suited for frowns, and Kiyan wasn't, either. It seemed like they'd both had enough of that, lately.

The mussels had opened up completely some time during their conversation, and Kiyan gathered up sand and piled it onto the fire, careful not to knock any into the boiling water, to smother the flames. The fire died in a curl of white smoke, and Kiyan crawled into the little cave briefly to fetch the laddle and the basket of bad mussels. Before he forgot, he had to get rid of the spoiled mussels; come night, it wasn't good to have food in that cave, spoiled or not, wih him, just in case it would attract something. And with a storm approaching, and evening only a few hours away, there were plenty of things that could be attracted to a lone scrap of food.

Ducking back outside, he set the laddle on an unused palm frawn; it would come in handy for fishing the mussels out of the hot water. "Help yourself, Zarak," he said with a little, amused grin. He still couldn't believe Zarak had lied about not eating mussels as a cover for being amused about his garb, and amusedly wondered how much more about himself Zarak found funny, but just didn't want to say. "Ah...I don't have any proper utensils or anything, so...just be careful not to burn yourself! I'll be right back."

He took the basket of spoiled meat to the water's edge and dumped it, letting the waves reclaim the flesh and knowing that some sea creature could make a meal of it. With that done and out of the way, he quickly returned back to Zarak and sat back on his knees next to him. "We should probably go inside soon," Kiyan said suddenly, watching the sky's gradual transformation, clouds casting shadows over the once tranquil sea that was beginning to pitch angrily. "Your storm's almost here."

It wouldn't do to get what clothes they had left soaked...or any more wet than what they already were. Kiyan's skirt was still damp from when he'd waded out for mussels, but it was nearly dry now, the material light and easily dried. The same couldn't be said for Zarak's clothes, which still seemed to need drying. Poor guy, wrapped up in a blanket...not that Kiyan had much more. He was wearing all he had until he could grab something elseâ€"well, two somethings, more like, in case Zarak needed something! Whenever that would be.

It wasn't much longer to the evening, anyway, and that was usually the time Kiyan started to clean up and move inside. On his own, he had to, because doing any less was dangerous; wild dogs came out at night to hunt, and while they wouldn't go near a large group of people, or an area that smelled of lots of people, a lone human was no contest. Maybe not even two lone humans would faze them. Could never be too sure.

Zarak couldn't help grinning as Kiyan slapped him on the back lightly in a very similar fashion that he had been slapped before.  Perhaps it wasn't a good idea to stay here if the kid would pick up on his habits...didn't want to be a bad influence after all!  What would happen if Kiyan started walking around looting peoples private safes?  Or God forbid...stealing more pots!

It was an amusing thought, and perhaps...maybe if he was lucky some of his tricks would be passed onto him...at least to help him survive on his own, and sneak back into his village and take more things that he needed and not just a few pots and blankets.  The poor boy needed more to survive, especially if he was planning on staying here for a long time, which it seemed like what was going to happen.

"They smell 'onderful." he replied, closing his eyes and just smelling the beautiful aroma of mussles that was lifting into the air and wafting towards his nose.  There was nothing like a good meal of mussles...boiled to perfection...and....well, there weren't really any spices, but they'd be wonderful just the same!  And by the way his stomach was complaining, it felt like he could even eat sand and it would taste wonderful!

Zarak didn't need any further urging to pick up the ladle and scoop a few mussles onto another clean leaf before putting the laddle back down, "Tha's a'right." he replied with another grin, thinking back on his days out on the open water, "I'm use t'not 'avin' proper utensils.  Unless we got anythin' in th'treasure we found, we jus ate wit our 'ands.  Nothin' so fancy like as fine silver....tha' was norm'lly sold."

Watching Kiyan walk back to the cave, the pirate picked up a mussle and cursed as it burned his fingers, falling back onto the leaf with a "flumph" that seemed almost mocking.  The damn thing didn't want to be eaten and it was already dead!  Well it better get use to the idea because a little burn wasn't about to stop him from going at it again, this time with a lot more speed to pull out the meaty goodness inside and juggle it back and forth between his palms, trying to cool it down faster.

Finally he felt like he was able to pop it into his mouth and savored the beautiful flavor that filled every nook and cranny of his mouth.  It felt like he hadn't eaten in years and this meal was fit for the highest ranking king in the world.

If the king like mussles of course....

Zarak didn't need to look at the sky to know that it was slowly darkening.  He could feel the change in the very core of his bones and knew that it would be quite a storm, just from the intensity of those feelings.  He couldn't tell how long it would take to hit the shore, but from the looks of things, the heart of it would be on them in an hour at least.  It would definately be better to be back inside the cave.  Not only were storms dangerous because of wind and lightning, but it could grow to freezing temperatures once the rain and wind hit.  Even now he could feel the cold wind blowing in from the sea, sending a little shiver up his spine.  The waves had grown higher, cresting with much more force than it had earlier.

Maybe he was just being silly, but part of his did not want to be caught in another storm at the moment....he was most certainly stormed out.

Popping another mussle in his mouth, he scanned the waves, looking for anything that might be a sign that someone else could be alive....someone else possibly could have made it.  After all, he had survived hadn't he?  And he wasn't the only one who could swim on the ship....there had to be someone....

There was a movement in the waves and sent Zarak jumping to his feet and looking harder at the spot he had seen it.  It was probably nothing more than a piece of drift wood, but he couldn't be too sure.

There it was again, quite a few feet back from the shoreline, a bobbing object that he couldn't make out from this distance, but with each passing second his fears heightened.  If it was a person....

No no...if it was there was always a chance that he was alive and just as lucky as Zarak had been.  There was always that chance even if those chances were slim....ungodly slim.  

But he still had to hope.

Leaving his half eaten mussles behind, the pirate sprinted to the waters edge, wading into the sea before he realized that he was most certainly still wearing the makeshift skirt.  He didn't want to be dragged down by the fabric, or get his only piece of dry clothing wet again, so in rush, he untied the blanket and tossed it back onto the beach away from the waves before plunging back into the icy water, hurrying out to the object that was looking more and more human by the second.  

He was tired, but the adrenaline rush from the thought of finding another crewmember gave him the strength to keep going, the water slowly getting higher and higher until he found that he was swimming, dragging his hands over his head as he pulled himself closer to the object, the ocean waves bringing them closer together.  

The waves were choppier out this far, and much higher than anything he was use to as they continuously crashed down on his head, or he ducked under the water to avoid being flipped backwards and losing all sense of direction.  Wiping the salt water from his eyes, he scanned the waves again, afraid that he had lost the person he had been swimming to, until in a small break, he caught sight of it again.  This time much closer, only a minutes swim away.

Pulling up his strength again, Zarak pulled himself closer, dread closing in around his heart as he realized the body was face down in the water, and not moving.

Tredding water beside him, the pirate forced himself to turn the man over, hoping against hope that he would find something other than what he was seeing in his mind...hoping that this man was alive...alive and just ran out of strength....

But when the body flipped over, it took all of Zarak's strength not to retch on the spot.  The face blue and bloated, veins sticking out all over his face...he was so distroted that Zarak couldn't even recognize him, couldn't even place who this man was, but by his garb he knew that he had been a victim of the shipwreck.

Without another glance, Zarak turned and swam back towards the shore, his strength nearly gone as the undertow fought against his efforts to get back to shore.  But he knew he needed to get back, if he didn't his fate would be the same as that mans...he would wash up on the shore and that would be the end.

Damnit!  Why had he gone out again?  Especially when the storm was making the waves much more dangerous than they were normally?  Wasn't he smarter than that?

Damn!

He didn't know how long he struggled, but finally his toes brushed the ocean floor and he fought even hard, feeling the undertow pulling him back out into the ocean.  The water got lower as he stumbled foreward, his knees about ready to give out.

"Tha'...was stupid..." he muttered to himself.

Unlike Zarak, Kiyan was more cautious when it came to eating, scooping out a few mussels onto a clean leaf and letting them sit to cool. But, he also hadn't gone for who knew how long without food, and could afford a little patience. He poked the meat every now and then, testing its heat, and only when it didn't burn his fingers did he peel it out and pop it in his mouth. The meal was nothing special to him; truth be told, he was starting to get sick of mussels. But he'd eat them everyday if it meant watching Zarak's little juggling act.

And he couldn't help but keep thinking about something Zarak had mentioned. His people normally ate with silver? Man, they must have a lot of it, then, where they came from, because silver was rare here, and far too pretty to eat off of!

He ate faster as the storm neared, starting to feel uneasy. The closer it got, the darker it got, the more violent the sea turned, the more Kiyan realized it was not going to be gentle. If worse came to worst, the tide would be higher than normal, and they'd have to seek higher ground. Hopefully that wouldn't happen...Kiyan didn't know of any other good, safe shelters nearby, and he didn't want to be out in the night in a storm, especially with what lurked about in the night, which he wasn't so sure the storm would keep at bay.

Nibbling his lip uneasily, he turned his gaze away from the sky and was about to ask Zarak what he knew about the storm...except that he was no longer there.

And was instead sprinting toward the water, into the water, undoing the blanket tied about his waist. Kiyan hadn't heard the rustle of sand that would have told him he had gotten to his feet, the sound of the waves by now too loud for hearing more subtle things. And it was a few shocked moments as he watched Zarak fling the blanket to shore and continue wading deeper into the choppy waters before he could leap to his own feet.

Oh no...he wasn't doing what he thought he was! Had he gone mad?! Argh, he knew he probably had a fever of some sort!

"Zarak! No!" Kiyan shouted, cursing silently at the sand that always made running so difficult when speed was so important. Damnit! What was he doing?! What was he thinking, even! He wasn't strong enough! The way he'd found him on the shore earlier, there was just no way he could be fully recovered! He was going to drown himself! Panic rose in Kiyan as he skidded to a stop at the water's edge, scanning the waves frantically, practically bouncing from foot to foot as he looked for a sign of his new companion. Gods, he should have been watching him...just in case he really was sick...sickness could make people do strange things, and this had been so sudden, without any warning whatsoever! The waves were growing stronger and stronger...Gods, where was he?! Had he been dragged under already?! Wait...

A wave broke, clearing his line of vision for a moment, and he could see him then, swimming back to the shore against the pull of the sea, before another wave obscured his vision. Taking no chances and knowing that he needed as little resistance as possible against these waves, he fumbled quickly with the ties at his waist, undid his own skirt, and waded quickly out into the water. Kicking off the ground, he swam with the powerful strokes of an experienced swimmer against the waves, ducking under each cresting mass of water instead of trying to battle through it. He didn't have to swim too far, though, for by the time he reached Zarak, the man seemed to have already found a place where he, at least, could touch bottom. Kiyan couldn't, and the undertow was hard to resist, but he stuck by Zarak's side just the same, even though he seemed to have everything under control. But he looked weak and exhausted...and any slip up could cause the sea to suck him right back up again. If that happened, he'd be there to assist, and even now, just in case, he wrapped an arm around one of Zarak's to help him along.

Somewhere during this all, Kiyan silently wondered just what he would have done if Zarak hadn't been strong enough to swim back. He'd never swam in a storm before, always knew better than to attempt something like that, and even close to the shore, even as an experienced swimmer, it was hard work making it back. He wasn't one to easily exhaust, but he could definitely feel this in his muscles.

Once the water was shallow enough to come to their calves he let go of Zarak, breathing hard in a mixture of ebbing panic and exertion. Mostly panic, though. That really had scared him...he'd have to watch the man closely now, make sure he didn't try any other foolish stunts like that.

"What...what was that about?" he asked, exasperated, as he shook his soaked hair from his eyes and rested his hands on his knees, catching his breath. "You could have drowned! Don't do that again, Zarak! If something happened, I don't know that I'd be strong enough to pull you out without drowning us both in the process! And you're not well enough yet, either!" His heart still hammered in his chest even as relief flooded him, and gooseflesh prickled along his skin from an unpleasant mixture of cold air and cold water. Ugh, that had been close...

His mind was completely focused on one thing as he struggled against the pull of the waves.  He had to get back to shore...he had to....and even though his body was about to give out, Zarak fought off the exhaustion, too busy fighting to notice that Kiyan was beside him, holding his arm in an attempt to steady his exhausted frame.

And it worked.  Frankly Zarak was shocked that he had made it this far, until he notice that he was being supported by his young friend, and when the support lifted, his knees buckled and he toppled onto his knees, barely strong enough to hold himsef up in a cat like position.  He was still dehydrated, and damnit he should have realized that he wasn't strong enough to jump back in the ocean.  Just walking from the cave to the fire had made him feel light headed....

But the thought that one of his shipmates might be alive....struggling against the waves....that was enough to push him over his current handicap and jump in to try and do something...to help him....even if he barely had the strength to help himself.  But it had been in vain...the man was dead, and from the looks of him he had been dead for some time...maybe a day?  But where did that leave him?  How long at the ocean waves toppled him about as he fought to stay afloat, barely conscious..unable to tell if it was day or night...just floating on the massive ocean....

It could have been days...it could have been a few hours....he didn't know....but now that mans face haunted his thoughts.  That could have been him....that could have been what had washed up on the shore.

What had made him so lucky?  He didn't believe in gods, in some higher being controlling them!  If anything he believed that everyone was born with a horrible fate and there was nothing they could do to change it.  Ever person would die, whether young or old...that was their ultimate fate.  But whether or not they died with dignity and honor...that was a choice.  But who had decided that he should live?  Was there a higher power working for him, saving him in hopes that one day he'd wake up and shout "Blessed be the Gods!"  He couldn't see himself doing that, ever....not since his parents died...

"I...saw some'un..." he muttered, finally realizing that Kiyan was talking to him, unsure how long it had actually taken him to reply.  His mind was lost in a swirling haze and he could barely focus on the sand beneath his hands and the ocean lapping against his legs, "It...it was...stupid...." he choked out through his exhaustion, "I... dunno... why.... dunno why I did it."  With a violent sneeze his arms gave way and he collapsed onto the sand, breathing heavily  out of his mouth, just trying to stay awake.

Damnit that was stupid!  What had gotten into him?  At first he hadn't even known if it was a person!  For all he knew it could have very well just been a piece of drift wood, a fish that enjoyed sailing on the waves.  Why had he run straight into a violent sea that was preparing for a storm that was slowly sneaking up onto the coastline?

Maybe he was sick...maybe he did have a fever that was making him do stupid things.  From the way things were spinning he wouldn't be shocked if Kiyan reached over and felt his forehead only to find he was on fire.  And that alone was strange.  From all his years on a ship he had managed to only get truly sick a few times.  One of them he had gotten fluid in his lungs and a healer had been brought on board....or rather, he had been taken from another ship and forced to heal him...but that didn't matter.

And...hadn't it felt just like this?  When he had been sick before?  The deep breaths that never seemed to fill his lungs enough...the aching in his bones....

But he was just dehydrated, dehydrated and exhausted from a frantic swim that nearly claimed his life.  That had to be it...he wasn't sick...

Damnit he couldn't be.

Exasperation and confusion very quickly faded away, replaced by a growing dread.

Saw someone? Squinting, Kiyan glanced out over the water, just to be sure, but all he saw was churning waves and rolling clouds. Zarak had gone out there because he thought he saw someone? Concern grew within him progressively, but he scanned the ocean waters a few more times just to be sure. After all, it was a possibility; Zarak had not been alone when he'd been cast to the waves. But Kiyan could see nothing out there but water, and the worry within him only continued to increase.

And it only doubled when a violent sneeze and soft thump on the sand next to him told him that Zarak's arms and legs had given out beneath him.

He tore his eyes from he sea with a start and, crouching down next to Zarak, instinctively darted out a hand to feel at his brow, going off his hunch. He was seeing things; that had to be what that meant, and while his weakness could easily be attributed to exhaustion from his battle against the waves, he wanted to take no chances. Zarak hadn't felt hot to the touch earlier, but now to Kiyan's horror, his temperature was noticeably elevated, hot to his fingers. He was sick...Kiyan knew he had to have been sick, but he hadn't shown any real signs until now! He'd shown exhaustion and dehydration and hunger, but no illness!

But just like a storm, sicknesses could come about suddenly and unpredictably, a fever broiling unexpectedly in a person who'd only hours ago seemed healthy.

Gods, he had hoped it wouldn't have to come to this...

"You're burning up...that's why you did it...it's okay, it's not your fault," Kiyan said softly, shivering lightly from the cold wetness beaded all over his skin which the equally cold breeze only further cooled. "Damn...I knew it." He should have watched his condition more closely! He'd been in horrible shape when he'd found him, but then after water and food, he'd been acting just fine, if tired! and Kiyan had been optimistic about his condition, hoped for the best ad been confident that all he needed was some rest. This was bad. This was the worst scenario he could have hoped for. He was no healer, and Zarak's skin was so hot...and his breathing sounded really bad. He'd been laying down long enough that his breathing should have been normal by now, as Kiyan's was...

That was bad...that was really bad...

Rising, he went quickly to gather up their discarded garments only a few yards away, and, hurrying back, he draped the blanket around Zarak's shoulders before slipping back into his own skirt quickly, not bothering with the ties. "Come on...we have to get you back to the cave, get some water in you," he told Zarak, stooping and looping an arm around one of his, hoping that Zarak had at least enough strength to help him get him off the ground. He'd support him as much as he could, and even if Zarak hadn't the strength...he'd...get him back there somehow.

And, in the meantime...he wracked his brain, trying to remember what the healer did to help sick patients. Water. That was a big one. He remembered when he was sick, he was given a ton of water, forced to drink it even when he hadn't the strength, and when fever had attacked him, he'd been washed with cold, wet rags. Otherwise, he was kept bundled up. The healer had also given him something...an herb of some sort...but he didn't know what it was...

Agh! That didn't sound like it was enough, though! And what if Zarak got really sick? What if he couldn't break the fever, or something else happened and he started vomiting, lost more fluids than he could take in? He could die!

Kiyan had been worried enough about getting ill himself, but another person? Gods...that was even worse...

And, with dread, Kiyan knew exactly what he'd do if things progressed further than he could handle. Yet, all the same, facing his tribe again was far less frightening than watching someone he'd come to value as a friend slowly die...

But, maybe he was just jumping to conclusions! Getting all panicky! Maybe Zarak was just weak from dehydration and hot from exertion!

"Zarak? How do you feel? Can you see well? Does your head and body hurt?" he asked, concern and dread lacing his words as he recalled the symptoms he remembered from his own illnesses.

The blanket drapping across his shoulders was a blessing, as it helped to fight off the chilling wind that had covered his skin with goosebumps.  He hadn't realized that he had been shivering until thewind had been cut off, giving him more room to think about what was going on.  He felt like in that last frantic swim he had used up the last reserves of his strength.  Hell, he was surprised he had even been able to get back to shore, and was pretty sure that if Kiyan hadn't come in and helped to support him, he would have collapsed before it was safe and that would have been the end.

"There really was...some'un" he muttered at Kiyan's diagnosis, but wasn't in any position to argue with him.  Eventhough he was burning with fever, he was positive that the man he had seen had been no hallucination.  That face had been too real...far too gruesome for him to create on a whim.

But the fever might have had a part in making him unthinking just run into the crashing waves that were carrying the storm to the coastline.  Or maybe he was just stupid.  He should have realized that the ocean was not kind at the moment, just by looking at the choppy waters, the rising levels, he was a seaman!  Of course he should have known...but somethinghad still made him run head first into the worst possible danger he could have.  Now he had used up his strength and in those last moments the fever had taken advantage of the weakness and exploited it.

Feeling Kiyan place his arm around his shoulders, Zarak forced himself to stand and stumble back to the cave.  He was no fool...usually...and knew that Kiyan would have quite a hard time trying to get him back to his makeshift home all by himself.  He had to help in anyway he possibly could, even if that meant leaning heavily on his young friend's shoulder and limping along.  Once they reached the cave he would be able to collapse and rest...but now he needed to force himself on just a little longer.

"'urt?" he asked, his words slightly slurred from exertian.  He had been too focused on forcing himself foreward that he hadn't even started to take note on what hurt and what didn't.  His breaths were still slightly labored and his lungs felt tight.  But that was impossible.  His lungs were perfectly healthy....he never had the breathing sickness that some people were born with.  Then why was he weezing?  No matter how faint he couldn't deny that he was certainly short of breath in more ways than just being tired, "My ches'..." he muttered in reply to the injury questions.  His right side was filled with a dull ache as he took shallow sips of air.  "I can see fine....don' worry.." he looked over at Kiyan, that same grin lighting his exhausted features, "I've been through worse siteations then this.  I jus'...jus' need sum water."

His attempts to keep things light were slightly lost on him himself as he fell back into his mind, trying to piece together the symptoms.  He wasn't sure what was wrong with him, but something sang out in his mind that it was worse than just a slight sickness from being cold....of course Zarak would try his best to keep Kiyan from worrying too much.  Whatever was going on it was sure to pass in a few days.

A cough errupted from his throat, shaking his shoulders  and making it even harder to keep his legs steady enough to support himself.  His dark blonde curls fell in his eyes and once the cough subsided he pushed the stray pieces aside, his fingers feeling like they were suddenly overgrown sausages instead of the deft digits that he was use to using on his ship.

Each step took a little more out of him and caused him to lean a bit more heavily on Kiyan for support.  If Zarak had been in any other situation he would have tried to walk back to the cave by himself, fighting against someone elses help in fear that by showing his own weakness they would exploit it and he would be dead before he could blink...

But with Kiyan he felt all of those fears he had grown up with dissapate.  The boy had a good heart, anyone could see that because his kindness shined through even the slightest lie...if he could tell them.  It was strange that Zarak found himself feeling quite fondly about the lad.  Attatchment usually meant heartache in a pirates' life and he had tried to steer clear of anything that might cause such pain...but with Kiyan...it was almost innevitable that he like him.  The boy was so trusting...so hopefully ignorant to the world around him.  Or at least the world that Zarak had come from.  For all he knew he had been thrown into a completely different dimmension where everyone was just as trusting and wonderful as Kiyan.

Not that he believed it.

Kiyan winced as Zarak spoke, his words slurred and breathing noticeably shallow, wheezing. He didn't know what that meant, didn't know what it meant when Zarak reported that his chest hurt, and that only worried him more. He was burning up and his chest hurt, and he wasn't breathing well, either. That wasn't something Kiyan remembered experiencing himself...he'd felt achey, hot and cold at the same time, and his breathing had been difficult due to a stuffed up nose, but this sounded different. And it all happened so suddenly! He'd seemed fine only minutes ago!

Still, Kiyan did his best to smile weakly when Zarak grinned at him, even as he felt the man's weight against him grow heavier and heavier, making him stumble. He was weakening fast, and with their skin touching, he could feel the unhealthy heat radiating off him. And that cough didn't sound good, either. Hell, but it shook Zarak enough to nearly throw Kiyan off balance, and he paused just long enough for Zarak to recover from that bout before continuing them on their awkward way.

Water. He definitely needed that, and fast. Lots of it. He might have to get more from the spring before the storm hit fully, and...oh man...the storm. What would happen if it did turn out really bad and they were forced to move? Maybe they should move now just in case? No, couldn't move now, Zarak was sick and needed rest, needed to gain up some strength...that fever at least needed to be brought down before he was forced to do anything else! But then what? It wouldn't be good for him to be out in the cold and rain when it hit.

Kiyan took a deep breath. Okay. He just had to stop thinking for a second. He just had to take this one step at a time and take it as it happened. First things first: making it to the cave, making Zarak comfortable, getting water down him, and prepping the area for the night and storm.

After what seemed like an eternity, they made it back to the little cave, and Kiyan took extra care to ease Zarak down carefully inside, painfully aware of the lack of supplies within. It hadn't seemed so bad at the time when he was healthy and it was just he living here, but now...this wasn't good. He only had one blanket for Zarak and no extra clothes besides. Though, he doubted either of them cared about modesty right now, and he was only concerned about keeping Zarak warm. Well, when he needed to be warm. He recalled from his own experiences being stripped bare and sponged by the healer when the worst of the fever had hit him, even though he'd felt horribly cold to the point of shivering when in reality he was so hot he was sweating...

But all he had to go off of was fragmented memories. He hoped he was doing everything right...cool the body when it's hot, warm it when it's cold...

Ugh...he wished he knew more...and hoped what he did knowâ€"or thought he didâ€"would be enough.

He pushed the jar of water toward Zarak before he realized the ladle was still outside, so he quickly went back out to retrieve it. Once back, he scooped up some water and passed it to Zarak, though he held it still in case he needed help. He was so weak now, it wouldn't surprise him if he fumbled and got more water down his front than down his throat. "I'm sorry...I don't have much here at all and you're probably not very comfortable, are you? Here, you're going to have to drink a lot of this. It'll help fight the fever and keep your body cool, at least..." He hoped.

And grimaced at his own uncertainty. Even the smallest illness could be nasty if it wasn't treated properly, and...and...Kiyan just didn't feel comfortable taking these kind of chances with someone's health or even life!

"Zarak? Ah...do you know what it is you have?" he asked suddenly, voice tense, before asking in a rush, but even more quietly, "And...do you...have any ideas how to go about treating it? I...I'm not a healer, see, and I don't really know what to do except what I remember the healer did for me when I was sick myself. And you are sick," Kiyan asserted, using his free hand to feel at Zarak's forehead and face again and then feeling his own skin to compare. While his own skin was cool to the touch, Zarak's was indeed on fire, and that scared him, though he forced his voice to come out sounding calm. Or, as calm as he could make it. "You're on fire..."

Despite Zarak's previous reassurance that he'd been in worse "siteations" before and that there really had been someone in the waterâ€"a topic that would just have to be explored laterâ€"Kiyan was no more calm. Something was very, very wrong, and since it had flared up so quickly, it wasn't so much of a stretch to think it could take a turn for the worst just as quickly.

And that just wasn't something Kiyan wanted to risk. Gods, but he'd really become attached to the man, the one person he felt he could really talk to and confide in...the one person that had truly ever been open with him. Even if he'd only known him a day, it felt like...well, almost like he was an old friend come home after a long trip...

He wasn't about to take risks with him.

Zarak was grateful to finally be off of his feet, leaning against the cave wall as he tried to keep his breaths shallow to hide the obvious wheezing.  He didn't want Kiyan to flip out.  The poor kid had done enough for him already and he didn't like the thought that he was intruding on his space.

And he really wasn't that sick!  It was normal to feel a bit woozy when fever hit, and he wasn't that surprised to find that he had fallen ill...hell he didn't even know how long he had been out at sea!  Any normal person couldn't go through something like that and not catch something.  But it wasn't anything worse than what he had gotten through before, he was sure!  After all, most of the weakness was probably contributed to the fact that he had just been stupid and ran off into a raging ocean and even then he hadn't been up to par!

"I'm fine..." he insisted again, accepting the laddle but not attempting to take it from Kiyan's hands..but pretending he was at least doing something while the cool water washed down his throat, "I'm jus' tired....I'll feel better wit sum rest."

At least he hoped.  Everything was so hazy, like he was walking through a dream and part of him wanted to believe that it was just a dream.  In the back of his mind he knew that things weren't as great as he kept assuring Kiyan they were...but in his fever altered state he nearly believed it.  

After all, how many times had he fallen ill on the ship?  Three times at most?  For the serious illnesses that actually had needed some sort of attention.  And even if this was one of those times, Zarak was sure that he would be able to snap out of it in a few days at the most.  And he wasn't about to let some sickness rule his life!  Even if he didn't feel well he was going to try and help Kiyan as much as he could...

After a good long rest of course...yeah....just close his eyes...and....

Zarak blinked, realizing that Kiyan had asked a question.  Did he know what he had?   The symptoms seemed vaguely farmiliar, but in his groggy state he couldn't focus on when, or what had happened.....the wheezing was definately something he remembered...and tightening pain in his chest...but why couldn't he remember what had happened?  It was almost as if he couldn't even remember the recovery!  The sickness was in his mind...but that was it...maybe he was really loosing his mind.  On the ship, he had been resting when the wheezing had flared up unexpectedly...the coughing had become worse and people around him had been talking in hushed, worried tones...that was were his memory drew a blank.  It was almost as if he had fallen asleep and just....woke up the next day perfectly normal...

Oh Gods.....

He had been healed hadn't he?  That was the only plausible explaination!  The sickness had gotten out of control to the point where his shipmates could do nothing for him and had brought a healer on board!  Did that mean....did that mean that this was going to be the same?  Everything he felt was too close to his memories for him to believe otherwise....But he didn't know what he had had!!  For all he knew it could have been a disease that had no cure...or...

"I dunno..." he muttered, closing his eyes and resting his head against the wall, "I r'member it....bu' I dunno wha' it's called."  Did he dare mention that he thought he had been healed?  That he thought that was the only way he had been able to get well?  A shiver shook him as his body felt clammy beneath the blanket, a cold sweat breaking out across his brow.  It was odd, to know that you were burning up but he still felt unbareably cold.

When his eyes closed, the exhaustion took the initiative to his with much more force than before, pulling it's victim into a restless slumber.

Even after Zarak drifted off to sleep, Kiyan stayed knelt beside him for a few moments, watching him uneasily to make sure he'd be okay alone for the small span of time it'd take for him to clean up outside and prepare them for the storm. Just as a precaution, he tore a strip of cloth off the bottom end of the blanket and poured some water on it using the laddle, then folded it and placed it on Zarak's forehead. He'd do more later, or as much as he could in hopes of bringing his temperature down, but before he could do anything, he had to take measures to ensure he wouldn't get any sicker, and that meant protecting them from the storm.

Returning outside, he debated about the cooked mussels for a few minutes before deciding to keep them and bringing the cooled jar inside and setting it against a wall opposite to Zarak. If Zarak got hungry later, it would do to make sure there was some ready-to-eat food available, and Kiyan didn't think they'd have to worry about wild dogs when there was two of them and it was stormingâ€"but, then, he wasn't quite sure whether they'd come out in this storm or now. Alone, that was a different story.

Once that was done, he picked up Zarak's clothes and shook them out, trying to beat as much sand off them as possible. They were still a little damp in places, and the material felt stiff, but the stiffness could be fixed with a good washing in clean water. Later, though. He brought those inside as well and laid them, folded, at the foot of Zarak's "bed".

Then it was off to do a quick clean-up. He tossed the rocks from the fire pit away in random directions, then covered up the hole and the palm frawn ashes, making sure sand and ash was nicely mixed and then buried. He would have otherwise let the sea have the ashes, but the rain would take care of that this time. As long as it wasn't obvious to human eyes that a fire had been made here, he wasn't worried.

Then, the last thing to do was to return the broken palm frawns that he hadn't used back to where he'd found them, a little ways up the cliff his makeshift shelter was etched into. He kept only one large leaf and returned with it, pushing it into the shelter while being careful of Zarak. Then it was back outside to push a large stone he kept near the entrance forward and near the opening, leaving just enough space so he could squeeze inside, and just in time. By the time he'd finished all that, a droplet of water on his shoulder and increase in the chilly wind told him the storm was here...though this was only the beginning.

He took a few minutes to double check that everything was taken care of before slipping inside and pulling the stone the rest of the way until it blocked the entrance; it was only tall enough to come up to about half the cave mouth's height and almost all of its width, but it wasn't that which he used to keep the rain and wind outâ€"that was just to keep predators out.

He used the large palm frawn to block out the remaining gaps, leaving just enough space to allow some of the remaining light to filter through, and, sitting down with his back against the wall, wiped water from his eyes. The rain had finally started to really come down toward the end, hissing lightly as it struck down upon the sand.

And now, after he'd assured that they would stay as dry as possible through thisâ€"Zarak especiallyâ€" he could get to the matter that really concerned him, regardless of Zarak's insistance that he was fine...

Kiyan checked the cloth he'd left on Zarak's forehead and grimaced when he found that the one side was nearly dry and the cloth was warm. Not good. He carefully stripped the blanket down to Zarak's waist, regardless of any shivers. No matter how much his friend shivered, it did nothing to hide the fact that his skin was burning, and a quick feel of his forehead and chest showed that the fever just might have increased a bit; he was so hot he was sweating now...

Taking a deep breath, Kiyan dunked his makeshift rag into the water and began his attempt at cooling Zarak down, sponging cool water along his face, chest, and stomach  and praying he was going about this the right way...and that, above all else, it wouldn't get any worse. No matter what Zarak said, Kiyan could tell he was bad off, if his temperature wasn't enough evidence for that! He'd faded so fast...and his breathing sounded terrible...

That, and his temperature, was probably what scared him the most. Aside from the fact that this was all he knew how to do.

But...if it got bad...if it got worse and too much for him to handle...he'd just have to do it. He'd just have to go back to his tribe and get help. That was all there was too it. If it got out of control, he'd do it...he didn't want to, but...but it would be far better than the alternative...

In a strange way, that comforted him, knowing that if he could no longer deal with the illness, help wasn't too far away.

Well, help for Zarak. In Kiyan's case...well, it might as well be the end of his life.

An exaggeration of course, but to Kiyan, not far from the truth.

But it probably wasn't that bad! He was probably just freaked because he'd never had to deal with a sickness that wasn't his own. Zarak might be right. What if it was nothing but it really just seemed like a lot to him because he was inexperienced?

Yeah...that was probably it...

"Zarak, sweetheart, could you please bring me that bag?"  a beautiful young woman called to her son who had started to wander off among the large crates that littered the docks.  Her waist length redish blonde curls bouncing off of her shoulders as she stooped to gather two packages the small family was bringing on board as they made their way off of the secluded island.  Beside her stood a tall man, tanned and finely built from years of working aboard a fishing boat.  As his wife called out to their ten year old boy, he looked up from the few bags he was inspecting, a small grin appearing on his lips as he caught the guilty look on the boys face as he had been trying to sneak away.

"Th' bag?" he asked innocently, a heavy island accent ringing through his words that he had picked up from the boys on the island and his father.  His mother on the other hand, had been raised away from the small fishing village and had retained her own dialect.

"Ye 'eard yer mum!" his father replied, lifting his own load off of the ground as the large wooden ship began to drop a large wooden plank so they could board.  "Bring those bag 'ere.  Th' ship is 'bout t'start loadin.  Ye wouldn' wanna be left 'ahind, would ye?"  The boy shook his head, shuffling his feel on the ground as he was caught in his escape.  After a few seconds paused, the boy grasped the two remaining lugadge items and continued after his parents.  His own curls bobbed as he jogged to catch up to them, looking so much like his mother but with the color to match his father.  He was tall for his age, having gone through a growth spurt over the last few days, but with his height also came a more rebellious nature, as his parents had quickly found out.

Carrying as much as they could from their old home, the three walked up the plank and onto the ship that would be their home for the next month as they made their way across the ocean and to a new world to start over...

Zarak coughed, his head rolling slightly as it jolted him slightly from his dreams.  Or in reality, he subconsciously fought against them.  He had lived so long without his parents that he didn't want to see them, he didn't want to re-live their last moments again, not even in a dream.

He cracked his eyes opened, the fever disorienting him to the point where he could barely recognize where he was.  His initial reaction was that the ship had been taken over and he had been taken hostage.  Well they would certainly have a surprise coming for them!  Not only would he not tell them anything, but he had a few tricks up his sleeve to keep them from touching him...well...sorta.  He would hurt them a lot before they had a chance to blink.

But why was he so tired?  And his arms felt like weights rather then working limbs...and everything was blurred...he could barely focus on anything and...god he was tired....so....tired...

"'e'll be fine, Isaya" Zarak heard his father whispered to his mother when they thought he had fallen asleep and believed they couldn't be heard right outside the door.

"I know...I'm just so worried..." came the soft musical reply.

"Don' be.  'e's a good lad an' 'e'll get along wit all th' boys in our new 'ome. "

"Perhaps you're right...." but the doubt was still clearly noted in her voice.  It annoyed Zarak a little, to know that his parents were discussing him behind his back, hoping that he wouldn't heard them.  But in another sense, he was flattered to know that his father thought he was good and that he would do well in their new home.  Truth be told, he hadn't wanted to leave their small home.  He didn't care if it was tiny, he liked where he was, the friends he had grown up with....but his da thought he was strong enough to handle it....so he'd just have to prove it to his mum.

His eys flew opened, but they stared wildly about him in a way that proved he was seeing nothing that was in the cave.  The fever had taken complete hold over his body, causing him to sweat profusely as his body shivered.  And his temperature continued to increase, just as his cough continued to get progressively worse, his breathing raspy as if he was trying to breath through jello.

He didn't want to see the rest of the dream.  He knew that had happened that night, only moments after he had heard his parents discussing him outside of their cabin, but the screams still echoed in his mind even with his eyes staring wildly out at the world.  He could still heard the sound of blades being drawn...the sound of those blades swinging through the air....blood falling to the ground with the heavy body following soon after....the scream of his mother as she burst in through the door, her eyes wild, her face splattered with blood...the pirates stepping over his father's body...

"Leave my boy alone..." she begged as the pirates advanced, knowing that they had seen him and there was no chance to get him to hide.  Her son had already scrambled down from the small bed and was by his mum, her shaking hands pushing him behind her, "Please, I beg of you...."  Zarak had never heard her sound so scared, not even the time he had fallen out of a large tree and had lain unconscious for three days.

The pirates just laughed as they stepped foreward, one of them grabbing Isaya's arm, his eyes filled with lust.

"Well she is a pretty 'un..." he taunted with a wicked grin, "Ah think tha' Ah may jus' 'ave t'keep 'er..."  His mother's eyes grew wide and she picked up her struggle, waving her free arm and scratching him across the face, twisting in his grasp, biting, screaming, pleading.  Even Zarak understood what was going on.  They had been told stories about pirates back on the island...how they attacked ships, raped the women....they couldn't do that to his mum!  They couldn't!  But they were...and he was frozen as the men played with her skirts, unbuckling their belts....He needed to find something!  He needed to do something!  He had to prove to his mum that he was strong, that he could protect her!

With single minded determination he spotted the mop in the corner of the room.  Jumping foreward he plowed head first into one of the men who were watching the sport, knocking him off his feet.  Rolling quickly away, the young boy grabbed a mop that rested in the corner and raced back to protect his mum, to try and stop what was going on....or.....  Looking around frantically he spotted her crumpled on the floor, the pirate who had raped her standing above her with a bloodied blade.  She was covered in blood where he had cut her throat, eyes staring blankly at the ceiling as a single tear rolled down her cheek.  With a terrible cry of rage and sorrow, Zarak jumped foreward, brandishing his make-shift weapon...

"I hate ye!" he cried, throwing his arms out as he tried to attack the pirates that raded his mind, "Ye killed 'er!  Ye killed 'er!"  He attempted to stand, determined to fight the men who had done those horrible things to his mum...who had killed his da and then taken him on because he showed "spirit".

They had fucked up his life...that had destroyed any hope he had of starting a new life.

"Let us be!" he cried again, tears filling his eyes but not falling, "They're dead...ye fuckin' bastards..."

The forced movement was enough to robe him of whatever strength he had left and he collapsed back onto the "bed" falling back into an exhausted sleep, but the shivers lessened as the fever reached its breaking point and gently began to descend to a more manageable level.

Even his unconsciousness was more like a deep sleep of someone who had no more strength left and was doing everything in their power to replenish their energy.  The dreams and hallucinations stopped and his breathing became more even, but they were still raspy and forced as every few minutes another cough escaped.

[XD I decided to change Kiyan's age a bit...well, by a year. >.> So...he's 16 now. 17, for some reason, just didn't feel right to me...dunno why. *pickypicky*]

Time crept by, and Kiyan soon lost track of the minutes. Not that he'd been keeping track before, not really. The growing shadows marked the progression of time, the deepening growl of the storm as it neared and sudden flickering of light that preceded it only heightening the boy's anxiety as the fever wreaked its havoc on his friend and he was left to try and control it. Or at least stabilize it. All he could do was try and keep Zarak's body cool and hydrated, to wash down his fevered body and press the soaked rag to his lips in an attempt to get some liquid down him without drowning him in the process. That was the most he knew how to do, and he found some comfort in that the fever, at least for now, hadn't gotten any worse.

But it hadn't gotten any better.

The roar of the surf grew louder, matching the rumble of thunder, the twin beasts of nature's wrath that drowned out all other sounds, and the lightning grew closer, brighter, illuminating the little "room" as night fell steadily. Before long, the lightning was the only direct light around, the moon and stars blotted out by myriad clouds. Thank Gods the clouds reflected light, the moon illuminating them and offering what light it could, even trapped behind those ominous peaks, otherwise they would have been in total darkness, save in increments when the lightning flashed.

The storm couldn't have picked a better time to arrive, and its presence, coupled with Zarak's fever, made him increasingly nervous. Time and time again he'd leave Zarak's side to peek outside and watch the waves, watch the tide. And as he'd suspected, it was higher than usual, a little more than halfway up to the entrance of the cave, and a steady rain had begun to fall, soaking into once dry sand as wind sent cool droplets into his eyes. The waves tossed violently, cresting dangerously, and Kiyan sincerely hoped anyone out at sea had found safety. This storm could very well have been the sister of the one that stranded Zarak...

Shuffling tiredly back to Zarak after checking the conditions again, Kiyan pressed his back against the wall and rested beside Zarak's "bedside". He didn't have the moon to tell him how much time had passed since he'd last checked, but he guessed it was...pretty late, if his sore eyes had anything to say on the matter. He rubbed his left hand over his eyes and sat up straighter as he realized how tired he was becoming. No, he couldn't fall asleep. He definitely didn't want to drift off, only to wake up because something had taken a turn for the worse! And if something had to worsen, he hoped it was the weather, and not Zarak's fever.

Picking the damp cloth up off of Zarak's brow, which had been made warm from Zarak's body heat, he soaked it in the water again...and in his tiring state, it took him a few seconds before he realized something was terribly wrong, to notice that Zarak's eyes were wide open. Kiyan gave a start and opened his mouth to say something, but it was then that he realized Zarak wasn't really there, wasn't really awake or looking at anything. And it was also then that he was able to recognize the change in temperature he'd felt when his skin had come in contact with Zarak's, to see the sweat that now seemed to pour from his body's pores, even as he shivered uncontrollably. And his breathing...

Even in such a short amount of time, it had gotten worse.

Heart racing, Kiyan picked up the wet rag. Oh Gods, he was worse...he took his eyes off him for one moment andâ€"

And Zarak went crazy.

"Zarak!" Kiyan yelped as one flailing arm caught him in the side of the jaw, knocking him right over onto the sand. He scrambled quickly up, jaw throbbing, and fear jolted through him as he saw Zarak struggling to rise, yelling. Oh no...fever dream...that's what it had to be...oh crap...what if...what if he could really see, only his dream had it distorted and...and he saw Kiyan as this...killer? Kiyan's eyes grew very wide at that thought. Oh damn...this could be bad...

"Zarak, it's okay! It's a dream, you're safe, no one's dead. It's me, Kiyan!" he cried, even as he saw tears filling his friend's eyesâ€"something he hadn't expected to ever see from Zarak. A pang of pain flashed through him. He must be seeing something really horrible in whatever place it was that he'd gone off to...and though Kiyan wished to snap him out of that place, he'd heard before that doing that was never a good idea. People had to bring themselves back, fight the nightmares that tormented them themselves...only they could do that. "You're okay!"

Zarak was unsteady where he'd risen, and though Kiyan wanted to reach out and force him to lay back down before he did something to hurt himselfâ€"or Kiyanâ€"he knew touching him while he was like this was not a good idea; he'd belted Kiyan good, if accidentally, and if he thought he was being attacked...well, Kiyan figured that even unconscious, with those muscles, Zarak could do some damage. All he could do was fidget nervously, chewing his lip, until Zarak's body gave out again and he collapsed back down, still once again.

Thank Gods.

Kiyan waited a few minutes, listening to Zarak's breathing and watching his face, before he was convinced that he had drifted off again and felt safe enough to creep forward quietly and check on him, his heart still drumming away. That episode hadn't lasted very long, but it had come so suddenly and violently. And now...reaching out tentatively, Kiyan felt Zarak's forehead, fearing the sickness had only gotten worseâ€"or that Zarak would suddenly grab his wrist and snap it or somethingâ€"and was instead surprised to find his fever had gone down. And that his wrist came back whole.

He released the breath he'd been holding on one long exhalation.

The fever had broke. For now, Zarak's body had won the battle.

Shoulders slumping with relief and exhaustion, Kiyan reclaimed the rag that had fallen into the sand when he'd been knocked over, and rinsed it out in the water he'd been using on Zarak, then wrung it out and placed it on Zarak's forehead. Then he reclaimed his spot along the wall and sat there, now thoroughly awake, and rubbed his sore jaw.

Yeah...sleeping might not be a good idea...not if Zarak was going to have anymore visions...and Kiyan still felt a little jumpy and uneasy after that.

His breathing sounded hoarse and strangled as the moisture in his lungs was aided by the rain that poured outside the small, dark cave.  It sounded like the ocean itself was trying to penetrate his lungs, slowly drowning him in a pool of stagnant, murky water.  It seemed that as his fever decreased, the ragged sound of his breaths became more and more noticeable, but it was still masked by the gentle buzz of raindrops sounding on the rocks.

The cold sweat that had accumulated over the entirety of his body ceased to increase, the small beads of sweat gently rolling off of his clamy skin onto the blankets that were beneath him.  His eyes moved behind his eyelids, showing that he was slowly coming out of the feverish sleep, nearly ready to wake up completely and recognize where he was and who he was with.

Darkness still clouded his mind as his hearing slowly began to return, waking his mind up with the hiss of rain and the crashing of waves that had rose on the shoreline and sounded as if they were nearly at the door of their small sanctuary.  The clouds distorted the light that had come from the moon, leaving the two figures in complete darkness with only their hearing and other senses to guide them should either of them attempt to move.

With a shattering cough, Zarak's eyes fluttered opened; darkness greeted by darkness.  But he knew that he was awake from the smell of the damp cave, the smell of his own sweaty body shivering in the chilled air, but it was no longer the shiver of fever.

But why was he so cold?  Even his teeth were chattering and he couldn't place it.

Pushing himself up into a sitting position he felt his arms tremble beneath his weight, obviously weak from the illness.  Positioning himself so his back rested against the cool stone walls, the moment he was fairly comfortable, another cough ripped through his throat, the coppery taste of blood falling lightly on his tongue.  Yet he though nothing of it.  He could have very well bit his lip or his tongue when he had been sleeping.

"K...Kiyan?" he asked, silently amazed at how raspy his voice sounded....as if he had been screaming.  But he couldn't worry about that now.  He was having a tough time seeing in the darkness and he wanted to make sure that his young friend was still nearby.  If he had, for some reason, gone out in the storm....or if he had left for Zarak's sake...in a storm like this....

God...he hoped that the kid was still there....

He didn't need help...he was fine!  The fever was already down!  And if he felt weird at all, it was the strong pulling in the back of his mind that echoed the storm around them, his powers warning him that there was a big storm overhead.

Well duh, he knew that now....but it was to be expected...if he was able to sense changes in weather from miles away, if a storm was right above him, the effects of his sixth sense would be ten times stronger now.

Damn...this was a nasty storm.  His mind was buzzing so loudly that he could barely focus on anything else.  Normally he was able to ignore it, or work through it, but now that he was just sitting there...it seemed like that was all he could focus on.  Hopefully it wouldn't last too much longer...and considering the heart of the storm was overhead, it shouldn't last for more than an hour....

Kiyan still began to nod off as the hours rolled by, exhaustion setting in deep into his bones. After a while, he hardly even noticed the lightning claps, or the roar of water, or the dampening of the sand within the little cave as the sand outside was drenched, long since exeeding its capacity for holding water. He blinked and squinted, trying to force his eyes open, but then his eyes would slowly close, his chin would drop down toward his chest, and then he'd jerk awake with a start.

Ugh...he had to stay awake...just in case something happened. Zarak seemed out of the danger zone, at least for now, but other things could go wrong...and his condition was still unpredictable...he just...had...had to stay...

A shattering cough broke through the half-sleep he had drifted into, and Kiyan jolted awake with a soft gasp. Zarak. He forced his eyes open, and was greeted by blackness. Even the moon had been blotted out, but he could still hear well enough, even over the steady howl of the wind and thrashing of the waves. The palm frawn he had placed against the cave's entrace was rattling loudly against the stone, the wind trying to tear it away. He thought he'd heard Zarak call his name...but it was lost among the sounds, and it sounded...distorted, somehow.

"I'm right beside you," he said tiredly, but made sure to make his voice loud enough so as to carry over the storm.

He could no longer see Zarak, and so could no longer judge his condition based on sight, but his other senses were working. He reached out cautiously until his fingers came in contact with flesh and sweat. Flesh that was shivering horribly. He felt cool, or cooler compared to what he had been, and he had managed to pull himself into a sitting position, from what he could feel and hear--his harsh breathing was now almost level with his own head, though higher up, obviously, as Zarak was taller than him by a head or two.

He raised his hand, tracing lightly along his friend's body as he felt his chest. His heartbeat felt rapid. A little higher, and he felt his throat. He could feel the rumble of whatever it was that was clogging his airway, and he felt hot. Not dangerously hot, but...

Kiyan leaned his head in closer to Zarak, and scooted his body closer, as well. His breathing sounded awful, worse than it had before...and he could smell something faint on his friend's breath, something metallic and familiar. A pang of fear coursed through him suddenly, and his own body suddenly felt cold, and he suddenly felt far more awake.

"Zarak...are you bleeding?" he asked suddenly, trying to keep his voice steady. The fever currently wasn't cause for concern, but...but if he was bleeding...and especially if he was bleeding from the inside...and his breathing seemed to be getting worse. What if...what if he was no longer able to breathe? He wouldn't know what to do! And...Gods, it was a bad idea thinking he could handle this alone. What had he been thinking?! He didn't know what he was doing, and...he could very possibly be risking this man's life just because he was being a coward! "We...I don't know what I was thinking...you're bad, Zarak...we...we got to get you to my tribe, we...I can't do this..."

(ooc:  I realized about him feeling cold, it was because the fever's going down and Kiyan had taken the blankets off of him!  lol  I couldn't remember until I re-read it.  It's been so long!)

Zarak was relieved the moment that Kiyan spoke.  So he hadn't gone out into the storm.  That was very reasuring.  He couldn't place why, but he had grown quite fond of the boy and would have felt personally responsible if anything had happened to him.  And was it odd that he felt like he wanted to try and keep him safe?  It was almost like in the past few hours he had come to view Kiyan as a younger brother...and he wanted to look out for him.

That wasn't just a sense of justice was it?  The kid saved his life, so he felt obligated to repay the debt?

Nah....it couldn't be that.  Zarak had been in that situation before and had never felt this type of connection with any of the other men, or women.

Perhaps it was his naivety to the world...being secluded...or maybe it was a kinship amongst outcasts?  After all, Zarak knew only too well how it felt to be shunned by the "normal" people, the people he had grown up with...if they knew what he had become, they certainly would never talk to him again.

"Nah...nah, I'm fine." his voice was just as hoarse as it had been moments before.  He didn't want Kiyan to risk himself just because Zarak was feeling a bit under the weather...."I think....I think tha' I jus' bit my lip." he added, running his tongue around his mouth in hopes of locating the cut or scrape...or whatever.

"Hones'ly.....ye don' 'ave t'worry.  I'll b--" before he could finish his sentence another cough tore through his lungs, bringing up more blood mixed with phlegm, this time more apparent that he hadn't bit his lip...but he wasn't about to tell Kiyan that!  But...he wasn't sure he would need to...his breathing shouted that he had some sort of fluid in his lungs, and the coughs just enforced it.  And now, he sounded like he had been running for miles.  He couldn't get full breaths without choking.  The fever was down, but there was something bigger happening in his body...and he would bet all the money in the world it had to do with drifting out at sea for who knows how long....he had probably swallowed and breathed in enough sea water to last him a life time.....

"I'll be fine" he panted, "Don' ye worry yerself.  Jus'...jus' get some sleep...kay?" he could tell that Kiyan was exhausted from the sound of his voice.  The poor kid had probably been awake the entire time....however long he had been out in the feverish rage...."'asides...we...can' do...nothin' till there's light...." and that was true enough.  It wouldn't be good if they both found their way into the crashing waves instead of back inland.

[OHHH! Oops. ^^;; Yeah, it has been a while. XD I forgot Kiyan took the blanket off...ahhhh!]

Kiyan was not convinced. "I'm fine"? He didn't sound fine with his voice the way it was and that cough and that fever he'd had! He didn't sound fine at all. He sounded like...like...

"You sound like you're drowning..." Kiyan said, fighting to keep his voice calm. But that's exactly what he sounded like. It sounded like his lungs were filling with water and he was struggling in vain to keep his head above the surface, sucking down what air he could before his head was submerged again. He was choking, coughing, and the liquid was bubbling in his throat...and Kiyan felt himself growing steadily more afraid. If he didn't get Zarak taken care of, would he really drown? Not in the sea, of course, but in whatever liquid his own body was forcing into his lungs?

Zarak spoke sense only in one area: that he couldn't really go out there in the heat of the storm, not without at least the moon to guide him. And he certainly couldn't take Zarak with the rain and wind tearing up outside; he hadn't been thinking very far in that respect. He wouldn't be able to support Zarak very well in those conditions, and Zarak would just get even more liquid down his lungs, but...but he could probably make it alone. He knew the way decent enough, he could probably find his way back in the dark. Then he could go to his tribe and bring them to Zarak, and he could at least get some help until the storm cleared enough for them to bring him out of here.

Unless any Midra or other nocturnal predators were lurking about...but he didn't know if they would go out in a storm. He only knew if he went out and they decided a storm didn't bother them, his dagger would be useless and he'd be dead alone.

And if something happened to him, Zarak...

He sighed. One thing was for certain: he couldn't sleep. He was exhausted and his jaw ached, but there was no way he could sleep when he was worried if Zarak would only be worse off when he awoke.

Feeling around, he found the blanket he had previously stripped off his companion in order to cool him down and pulled it back up to cover Zarak, remembering his shivering. "I can't sleep...Zarak, you can feel the weather, right? Can you tell when the moon will be visible again?" He shook his head, and even if the action couldn't be seen, the clicking of his necklace could be heard. "You're getting worse...I'm gonna get help once the moon is out again."

Despite the exhaustion and worry in his own voice, there was also a subtle hint of stubborness there, too, that hadn't been there before. And finality and resignation. He knew what going back meant for him, but...but Zarak was drowning, and he wasn't going to just sit there and watch helplessly as he worsened. He could die. Kiyan wouldn't be able to live with himself if that happened...he hadn't even known the man that long, but already he was like...like a brother to him. Even more than that, maybe, as the word "brother" didn't mean too much to him since his own brothers had never gotten all that close to him. He was the youngest by eight years--the unplanned one of the family--so when he'd still been harrassing girls, they'd been courting girls. Then they'd gotten their own families, so...he'd just never been a big part of their lives. Sure, they'd been helping him out since their mother died, which had left him on his own...but it was in a kind of formal, obligated sense.

He knew Zarak better than he knew his own brothers. And could relate to him better than anyone in his own tribe.

And that meant, well, in order to help him, he just had to make a sacrifice. That was all...wasn't like it was life or death for Kiyan, really, but it certainly was for Zarak. He wasn't about to risk his friend's life just because he was afraid for himself.

It wasn't too big of a deal, really, anyway...yeah...and...he couldn't hide forever, right...?

"Wha!??!" Zarak exclaimed, sitting straight up from his slunched over position.  There was no way that he would let Kiyan go back there if his people were going to ruin his life!  Not to mention it was still storming!  It didn't matter that the storm was winding down....He shouldn't go out at night anyway!

"Ye can't!" he cried out again, immediately wishing that he had kept his voice down when another ragged cough tore through his mouth.  He tried to stay upright, but found that was nearly impossible with his whole body shaking through the coughs.  This time they lasted longer than the last time and this time he could feel his lungs screaming.  Each time he coughed, the pain increased making him pull his knees up to his chest and hugging them tightly in order to stabalize himself.

After the fit subsided he leaned back onto the cave wall, breathing heavily through the fluid in his lungs, the infection making it harder and harder to breathe.

"I..I don' wan' ...ye t'go back if ye don'....don' 'ave to." he stuttered.  Even breathing had started to become painful.  He could feel the moisture around him helping to increase the pain.  Part of him wanted to beg Kiyan to go.....but he knew that even if his life was in danger, he would never want to have that kid risk everything for a stranger....

After all...that's what they were to each other weren't they?  Strangers?

But he didn't feel like strangers...they had told each other so much that they couldn't possibly strangers now, could they?

He didn't know anymore, and it was beginning to hurt his head, thinking this much.  He was exhausted, even after however long he was out mentally, but apparently his body had still been working, making it unable to find rest in the feverish sleep.  Yet, he knew that he probably shouldn't fall asleep, not when he was almost positive that something was more than wrong with his body.  Coughing up blood was certainly not something that was normal....but...it was still dark, so Kiyan hadn't seen it yet....perhaps he could still lie his way through it until it was light at least....

"The storm'll be over..." he paused, feeling the storm in his mind.  The buzzing that was the change in weather was slowly beginning to lesson, and was a lot less than what it had been when the storm had been directly overhead, "I'd say...10....15 minutes."

By that one answer he knew that he was asking for help without actually saying anything, but he still wanted to try and keep Kiyan here!

"Bu'...I don' wan' ye t'go if ye'll get inta trouble." and that was certainly the truth...but he had noted the stubborness beneath the kid's words and nothing that he could say would make things go a different way..."Jus'....if ye 'ave t'go....let me go with ye....I can walk...an' I don' wan' ye t'go alone...."

[*mumbles a string of certain curses* I HATE EVIL WEIRD KEYBOARD COMMANDS THAT MAKE ME GO BACK A PAGE AND RANDOMLY LOSE MY ALMOST-COMPLETED POST! *huffhuff* I feel better now. ^^;;]

Kiyan could have laughed if the situation weren't so dire, but instead settled for wincing in sympathy and ever-growing concern as Zarak's outburst lead to a series of painful-sounding, hacking coughs, a fit that lasted longer, and was far more violent, than any of the previous ones. Still, Kiyan could hardly believe what he was hearing: Zarak was telling him that he couldn't go fetch him help when his own condition was growing worse by the second, and after he had just survived a hallucinatory fever and sounded like his lungs had the ocean in them?

On one hand, Kiyan felt a swell of contentment and appreciation within him at knowing that Zarak was sincerely worried about him, but on the other hand...was Zarak crazy?! Kiyan was just worried that Zarak could die on him, and Zarak was still insisting that he was fine?! But his breathing was worsening...and all Kiyan could think about was if he would suffocate if something wasn't done. He knew nothing about this kind of stuff! He'd never seen anything like this before! It was a horrible feeling.

"Ten minutes...?" Whew. That was a lot less time than he had been fearing (and he'd just aim for ten minutes; fifteen was too long!). But...Zarak wanted to go with him? Well...that did make sense...Kiyan didn't feel comfortable leaving Zarak alone in the state he was in, but he also didn't know if the trip would be too much for him. It was a few miles to his tribe, and the terrain would be muddy and grass slippery. He said he could walk, but would it be too much exertion? He could hardly breathe!

Gods, and was he glad he hadn't fled too far from his tribe. He had thought about going farther away, but decided to stay close, where it would be a convenient distance to cover if he needed to get more supplies. Man, was it paying off now.

"Okay...we'll leave now, then. By the time we get you up and situated, about that much time should pass. It's a few miles, though...do you think you can do that? If it becomes too much along the way, you can rest somewhere and I'll go the rest of the way...alright?" He was still surprised at how calm he sounded, even though his heart was thundering in his eardrums, fearful for a lot of reasons. He didn't want to go back. He really didn't. All the while he'd been here, though, he'd known deep down that he'd have to go back eventually and that he had only been prolonging everything, maybe even making it worse. Whatever the case, prior to Zarak, the lonliness had been driving him insane, and he knew nothing about surviving on his own. He couldn't live forever on mussels. And that idea about mussel-shells, about placating the tribe by offering up goods that they could trade with the travellers that visited their own tribe every now and then? What a joke...he could never produce enough shells that would be enough to interest them, and he had to admit, he'd gone about that task more out of desperation than practicality.

He'd go back, and...running away again wouldn't be an option. He'd probably be handed right over to the other tribe this time and let them decide what to do with him, and as they were the "wronged" tribe, and had overall seemed just plain a lot more strict...he'd be stuck. Then he'd be taken to their land, and he'd be unfamiliar with it, and...it would just be very difficult...impossible maybe...and he'd just be in more trouble. They were going to be so pissed with him as it was...

But...it was a lot less serious than dying! And, well, all that was bound to happen anyway, right? Zarak was in graver danger than he was, and that was what counted. Soft-hearted Kiyan couldn't have even turned his back on a complete stranger, and Zarak, for all the short time he'd known him, had become far more than a mere stranger.

He was a friend...

As long as they could save him...that's what made it all worth it. Though...this whole thing was depressing...he liked Zarak...now he'd probably never see him again after this...

He sighed. Oh well...as long as he got better.

"I'd get in trouble anyway...don't worry about it." Still sounded calm. Probably because he was very sleep deprived right now. A little anxiety had finally wormed its way into his voice, but for the most part, he was still calm and tired. In sound, at least. "Alright...cover up with the blanket...it's probably gonna be cold out there," he instructed, reaching out blindly and helping as best he could. "Um...actually...wait...I think your clothes were over...ah, here. Think you can put some of them on? It'll help keep the cold from you. Need help?"

He couldn't see, but he could feel, and it hardly mattered if they were on right so long as he could move, anyway.

Outside, he could hear the rain growing lighter, softening...

Zarak nodded slowly, forgetting that there was no way the movement would be noted in the darkness of the cave.  Without another word he attempted to stand, using the cave wall for balance.  His legs felt like jelly but he wasn't about to let Kiyan realize how weak he felt.  It was bad enough that he was risking everything just to get a ship wrecked man help, he wasn't about to force Kiyan to help him walk a mile in the last bits of a pretty powerful storm!

"Yeah....I..I think tha' I can get 'em on fine..." he panted, reaching blindly in the darkness until his hands found the clothes that Kiyan was offering to him.  And just as blindly slip on his undergarments and breeches.  Upon feeling the boots, he found that they were still pretty wet, but reasoned that walking through areas that he didn't know...some sort of coverings on his feet would definitely be a good thing.  It would be bad to tear up his feet, making it even harder to make the journey.

"An'...ye said...a mile?" he asked as he buttoned and tied the last bit of his pants, beginning to pull his boots over his feet, ignoring the stockings he had been wearing because they too were still damp and would just help to make things more uncomfortable.  "I can...I can walk a mile..." he added after a brief pause to catch his breath.  The coughs were becoming more frequent, but none of them were as bad as they had been before although each slight one brought more phlegm and blood to the back of his mouth.  As long as they took things slowly he was positive that he could make the journey without any incidents.

Finished getting dressed, Zarak took the blanket that Kiyan had draped over him and pulled it around his shoulders as Kiyan had prompted.  He still felt chilled from the fever, but was glad that it was a lot lower than it had been before.  At least now he could see straight and the only thing he needed to worry about was pacing his breath to last him for the mile or so it would take them to travel to Kiyan's village.

And he still felt horrible about it...he felt like he was forcing his friend to go back....and ultimately he would felt responsible for anything that would be forced upon Kiyan.....after all, he wouldn't have to go back if it hadn't been for Zarak.

"I'm ready..." he murmured after a few minutes struggle between the boots sticking to his legs, "Kiyan..." he added as an after thought, "I owe ye my life....I won' let 'em do nothin' t'ye."  it was an empty promise...especially if he was sick when they shipped Kiyan off to do his time or whatever would be done to the kid....but he would certainly try, of that much he was certain.

Kiyan frowned in the darkness, concerned and not too certain how true Zarak's statement was, for all the confidence he was trying to project. His body sounded like it disagreed with his words, but it was a chance they had to take. A mile or so wasn't too bad...and it was better than leaving him here alone unsupervised. In his condition, that could be especially dangerous. This way, he could at least look after him.

He listened and waited patiently as Zarak dressed in the dark, listening to the rustle of fabric of his many layers of clothes and waiting to see if he needed help. He was coughing an awful lot...and that much coughing could take a lot out of you, and fevers...whenever he had gotten sick, no matter how much he slept, he had never felt rested in the least. He really hoped this wouldn't be too much of a strain on Zarak's already taxed body...and he really hoped the moisture in the air wouldn't make matters any worse. But staying here unaided would be just as bad, even worse...

As Zarak tended to his dressing, Kiyan felt around in the dark until he located his sandals, and slipped them on. He didn't need to wear them around here, save on hot days when the sand would burn, but the terrain around his village wasn't so...soft, and in the dark, it could be a literal pain. In the daytime, it was no big deal; he went barefoot all the time.

He finished blindly tying the laces of his sandals, which wrapped about his ankles, and securing his skirt by the time Zarak announced that he was ready. Rising to his feet himself, he was navigating his way to the cave entrance to remove the mini baracade when Zarak spoke again. It was sprinkling lightly outside now; Kiyan could just glimse the outside world through a small gap. Thunder was rumbling in the distance, but a patch of sky had cleared just enough to reveal a sliver of the moon. Just enough to cast down some light. Kiyan tore the palm frawn down, and the sim, dilluted light filtered into the cave, bright in contrast to the previous pitch black.

Whew...it was still bad light, but at least they wouldn't be fumbling so much. And hopefully more of the sky would clear soon.

He paused to look back at Zarak, already in the process of pushing out the small boulder. "Really?" He felt almost guilty for allowing himself to hope. Zarak could be dying and he was worried about himself? Jeez...and...he wasn't doing any of this because he expected anything in return...and...he didn't want Zarak to feel obligated to do anything...or get involved in that whole mess. But he couldn't help but secretly hope that he meant that. Even if it didn't make much of a difference in the end...and afterall...it wasn't like Zarak could get in trouble himself for saying anything. He wasn't part of their tribe, and thus wasn't bound to their rules--they couldn't get offended if he said something they didn't like.

Some small particle of relief worked its way through him, easing his dread at returning. At least he'd have someone to speak up for him...someone who had actually listened and believed him.

It was crazy that someone he'd just met knew him and trusted him more than those he had always known...

Even if the attempt wasn't successful...just what Zarak had said...it meant more to him than the man could ever know.

"Thank you, Zarak..." he said quietly...and then he quickly went back to shoving the boulder out of the way. Gyah, he couldn't get distracted...he had to get Zarak help first, right? That was the most important matter.

Once that task was finished, he returned to Zarak and offered to help support him as he lead him out. "It's sprinkling still, but it's not too bad..."

Ick, so much for calm. Now that they were finally on the move, he could feel his nerves acting up again. He took a deep breath. Each step would be a step closer to home, and a step closer to, well...whatever it was that had been decided.

He really hoped that line about marrying that widow had been a joke just to scare him...

[har har...I'm thinking of coming up with another word for what it is Kiyan wears. Skirt just sounds silly to me, and I was too lazy to rename it. Same concept though, eh? *random picky ramble* XDD]

Zarak hesitated before taking the offered shoulder.  He didn't want to give Kiyan any more reason to worry, and putting his weight on the young boys shoulders would definitely not help the situation...but it would make the going a lot faster.  At least he would have some support system if he needed it...or if he was forced to use it ...

But for now, he just put his arm around Kiyan's shoulders and used him as more of a stability system then anything else.  He could walk mostly on his own for now...and he would continue to try until he slipped and fell, or until he passed out from whatever sickness plagued his lungs.

"Yer...yer a good kid...Kiyan" he huffed as they slowly began their way outside the dark cave.  Even the single ray of moonlight seemed bright enough to light up a ballroom after the complete darkness of the cave.  It was like he had grown new eyes and was seeing things again for the first time in ages.  The rain had given everything a silvery sheen and the slight drizzle that was still falling from the slowly disappearing clouds continued the gentle song of nature...of course, adding to the buzzing at the back of Zarak's mind that was his magic.

The sand was much easier to walk on now that it was soaked completely through.  It felt almost solid under his feet which was great.  At least he wouldn't have to worry about sinking and losing his balance while he and Kiyan made their way to...wherever his village was...

Another cough, followed a few minutes later by another.  Zarak found himself spitting out the blood that came to his lips rather than swallow it.  They were outside now and there was no way he wanted whatever his body wanted to get rid of, back inside of him.  He had heard from some villages that coughing meant he was getting rid of demons, but the pirate agreed more with the people he had grown up with; coughing was a need of the body.  When something wasn't right, you'd cough, or sneeze.  Not too complicated, and made perfect sense.

But of course, Zarak was biased because he didn't believe in demons or any type of godly figure.  He prefered to view the world as it was.  He had no need to know who and what created it, and what made everything happen.  Things happened, and people moved on, and if they didn't they were fools.  Once he died?  hell, he couldn't care less if he went to some heaven or otherworld.  His life would be over and if he kept thinking about "doing this and that" for some god, his life would be over before he ever actually lived.

Nope...so much better to just be Zarak.  No strings attached.

He stumbled, having not been paying attention to the change in terrain as they slowly moved innland.  He had no idea what direction they were heading, and it was still too dark to make out farther than a few feet infront of them.  Leaning a bit more of Kiyan, Zarak found his footing again and slowly straightened, slouching over with the blanket drapped across his shoulders.

He was glad that he had listened to Kiyan and taken the blanket.  It certainly was cold out here.  And he was almost postive that he would have been colder if the rain didn't have the covering to block his exposed torso from their chilled drops.

Then something hit him.

"Kiyan..." he muttered, leaning a bit closer to make sure that the kid could hear his husky voice through the hum of the rain and wind, "When...when we get t'yer village....don' tell 'em...'em tha' I'ma pirate."  he paused for breath, aware that each movement foreward made his breathing heavier until it sounded like he was running when in reality they were only taking a few steps every few seconds, "If...if they know more'n ye..'bout us...ye'll be in more...more trouble....and I..I doubt they'll 'elp."

Though Kiyan couldn't see very well, he could navigate the terrain well enough. He'd come here all the time prior to his self-imposed exile, for it had been one of his favorite areas. It was private, alone, secluded. No one really came down here, and he kept it a secret. People probably knew about it, but probably just weren't interested. It wasn't a good area for swimming or fishing, for the water was far more turbulant here, never calm. There was a bay closer to their village and that was the favored spot, so what reason did people have to come here? Well, unless they were like Kiyan and ran away a lot.

Lucky for that, or Kiyan wouldn't have been able to navigate too easily through the darkness.

He was patient with Zarak as they walked slowly, wet, solid sand soon giving way to hard, impacted soil and bright foliage (or it would have been bright had it been day) as they moved, slowly but steadily, away from the sea and further inland. He heard and felt every cough that wracked Zarak's body, and heard him spitting, but he only firmed up his grip on Zarak to try and keep him from stumbling when the sickness made his body convulse.

He...was a "good kid"? The words stuck with him. That had to be the first time he'd heard that from anyone. Anyone else in his tribe would call him...problematic. Irresponsible, rebellious, free-loader, now a defiler...he'd heard any amount of things, lots of critisisms. But never that he was "good". Nothing he did ever seemed good enough...it was always wrong in some way. It was no wonder he'd stopped trying when trying hadn't been good enough anyway...

Zarak obviously saw differently, and...it made him dread returning all the more.

But Zarak trusted him, saw him how he hoped others would see him, and said he would try and help. Even if it didn't work out...well, Zarak insisted on repaying him, and truth be told but just that equal trust in return was payment enough.

The further they walked, the heavier Kiyan could feel his own steps become, partly because he truly was exhausted and Zarak's weight was starting to bear down on him, and partly because reluctance was truly beginning to settle in. It wasn't much farther...not much farther at all. Even with their slow, careful steps, even with their painfully slow progress, it seemed time was both flying by at a horrifying rate and dragging along at a snail's pace. It was a horrible conflicting feeling...wanting to return as fast as he could to get Zarak taken care of, but wishing he could put it off. He shrugged lightly, shifting Zarak's weight, and forced himself to keep on trudging, but not so fast as to be problematic for his companion.

He could almost see the firelight from the village huts flickering in the distance, even though he knew no flames would be burning outside with the wind and rain. And even though he knew they were some distance away. He shivered lightly, partly from the cold water beading along his bare torso, dampening his hair and skirt that the wind only continued to freeze, and partly because of, well...obvious reasons.

It was then that Zarak leaned into him, his hoarse, husky voice just carrying over the hymn of nature.

And Kiyan's tired green eyes widened slightly in remembrance. "Oh...I won't say a word," he said hurriedly, shaking his head. "I promised not to...our secret. Don't worry," he assured Zarak as he listened to his harsh breathing. He doubted they'd know, anyway...or he hoped. The only one he was really worried about was the shaman, but she always worried him. She seemed to know everything. But, that was only because Kiyan tended to get in trouble with her a lot...Zarak had no reason to be wary of her, though.

Kiyan didn't look forward to meeting her again. But...she would be the one to help Zarak, and she was the very same woman who helped him whenever he was ill or injured.

It was a love-hate relationship of sorts.

Kiyan didn't know how much longer it was before, finally, the first village huts came into view...

And Kiyan could feel his muscles tightening reflexively. The village was dark and empty, save for a few quick, moving shadows that were cats. But other than that, it was still, and he could see no light--all windows had been boarded up for the storm, windows which were basically just mere holes in the walls; it was normally warm here, so there was really no need to keep everything closed up, save for storms.

Kiyan swallowed hard, but kept on walking. It was cold out here, and every minute spent out here was another minute for Zarak to get worse. "Well...we're here," he announced, forcing his voice to sound cheery. "Now...we just have to go a little farther...to the shaman's..."

He made no attempt to keep his voice lowered. There was no point, now. He was going to be discovered anyway, so...if someone came out at this point, it just meant someone could help out.

Another deep breath. Oh well...it...it couldn't be all that bad...right...?

Zarak could feel his weight starting to bear down on Kiyan, and he was silently surprised to see how much he had shifted his weight, after promising himself that he would try and make the journey with as little help as possible from.  So much for that hope...at least they hadn't both collapsed yet.  He could tell that Kiyan was exhausted and wanted more than anything for his little friend to get some real sleep, even if when he woke he had to face the morning.

He tried to shift more of his weight off of Kiyan, but found that was draining him of what energy he had left and if that continued he definitely wouldn't make it to the village before he collapsed...and if he could at least make it that far...then...then perhaps things would actually turn out well.

For both of them, not just for himself.  Zarak knew that he would do everything in his power to make sure that the tribe didn't do something to Kiyan that would ruin his life.  He had already suffered so much through this ordeal, and now he was nursing a stranger back to health....that had to count for something, didn't it?

Unless the whole tribe is filled with stuffed shirts who wouldn't be able to see past the fact that Kiyan had "run away from his responsibilities".  From the stories that Kiyan had told, Zarak wouldn't be surprised if that was exactly how they were.  He'd be punished for his lack of responsibility...then everything would be that much worse....

Well jolly happy day.  This was going to be an interesting visit....especially if Zarak was forced to kidnap Kiyan in the hopes the tribe would forget about Kiyan's wrongs and focus mainly on his own.

Yeah....that'd be great.....

Get help from a tribe you've never been to before, and then kidnap one of their people.  Why not leave a ransom note while he was at it?  It'd certainly make him look like a complete bastard...the type of person most people assotiate with pirates.

But....he would do it, if that was the only way to get Kiyan away.  Of course, he'd try other things before he stooped to theivery.

He looked up as Kiyan announced their arrival.  Zarak was actually glad they were finally here...his coughs had become more ragged in the humidity of the night and he could feel his legs wobbling with each step.  He was physically exhausted and just want to sleep...he probably could just curl up right there in the middle of the path and that would be it....

Just a little farthur he told himself silently as they made their way through the village towards the shaman.

Even in the darkness he could make out the particular hut. The one he was about as familiar with as he was his own home. Oh yes...he'd visited this particular home more times than he would have liked. But to be fair, he was sure it frustrated Okonwe as much as it frustrated him.

It wasn't like the shaman was the primary authority of the village. She was not one of the leaders, but she might as well have been on the same level for the respect that was given her;even the leaders consulted her every now and then, for in addition to a healer, she was a spiritual, and thus moral, authority. But none of that was what really made it so bad for Kiyan. Truth be told...it was the fact that he was an orphan that did it. At least, that's what Kiyan had decided. His mother and father gone, and brothers with families of their own, she had taken it upon herself to play a hand in raising him. There weren't many orphans in the village, and those that were orphans weren't as old as he was. That was why his brothers helped him but didn't actually take him in--he was old enough to take care of himself, and he needed to learn how to do it.

Yet, at the same time, he was, according to anyone older than him of course, at an "awkward age", whatever that meant. Well, according to the same people that said he was at an awkward age, it meant he needed guidance, because apparently he didn't have any. And apparently, they'd decided he lacked guidance because he didn't live up to their idea of what they thought he should be. He was "drifting", according to them.

Who else to be his mentor than the shaman herself? His brothers agreed it was a good idea to give him direction, so it was done. And when they said "give him direction", they really meant "tackle him down, tie him up, and drag him down whatever path you deem best for him".

That had been fun...

Then, of course, there was the more recent debacle with Maricha...which she far from took his side on...

This would be fun...

Before long, they were right in front of Okonwe's home, a smallish hut with a roof thatched with dried leaves and raised off the ground by stilts, in the fashion of all their homes. It wasn't so much a deterrant for predators--a raised home wouldn't stop those--but from more violent prey animals, such as wild boars. Those things would tear up an unoccupied home if it was on the same level as them, vacant or occupied. Wearily, Kiyan eyed the ladder-style stairs that lead the way up. This would be a bit of a struggle for them...but if anything, they'd make enough noise to get her attention before they even had to tap on the door.

"Think you can make this?" he asked, but before Zarak could answer, he was already struggling to get them both up there. And, as he had mentally predicted, the effort was making a racket.

Before they were even halfway up, the door opened abruptly, washing Kiyan and his companion in dim candle light, though it was brighter than what it was outside. A woman, no older than her mid-thirties, stood in the doorway, thin and not very tall with a long, thick braid that hung down to her waist. A blanket was clutched around her shoulders to ward off the night's chill, and she stared out into the darkness blearily--or more pointedly, stared at them, lips half parted in an unspoken question. Clearly, she was still waking. She stared a few more seconds, and Kiyan waited stiffly, feeling the beginnings of a cringe coming on as he watched sleepiness wear off and recognition dawn. No, no...don't look at him yet...look at Zarak...he was the sick one...no lecture yet...please none of that already...

"...Kiyan?" She ventured, squinting. He winced despite himself and regretted it, because that confirmed her guess right away. Not that she wouldn't have known for sure once he was more in the light. "My Gods, Kiyan, where have--who's that?" Her focus switched over to Zarak, and her eyes widened a few increments as she took in his condition with a healer's keen eye. "Oh dear..."

And it wasn't a moment later before she was out the door and helping them struggle up the rest of the way up. Then, she was whisking them inside and directing Kiyan over to her own bed, a soft cot located in a corner of the spaceous room. "Lay him there, I'll be right back. And don't you think about going anywhere, Kiyan. I believe we have some catching up to do," she warned as she vanished into an adjacent room, which was separated by a cloth divider, and went about gathering up fresh blankets as well as clothes. As though he would leave Zarak...and as though he even could leave now. He'd only ever been able to run away when no one was looking. If he tried to split and she hollered, someone would tackle him down. If not her.

When she was finished, she set the bundle she'd gathered at the foot of her bed, and set on Zarak right away, peeling off his damp clothes before even blinking an eye. Obviously, she figured he was too sick to be modest, and herself? She was too no-nonsense to care if he decided to shirk. Once undressed, she used one thinner blanket as a towel and began to dry him, wiping away old sweat and rain and toweling his hair. She used the remaining blankets to bundle him up snugly.

"Good thing you brought him in. He's in bad shape," she told Kiyan as she straightened and used her one lit candle to light a few others in the room, brightening up the space nicely. Then she stooped back down beside the cot to examine his companion. Kiyan waited and watched, fidgeting with his necklace, anxious and tense for so many reasons, and exhausted enough that he wanted to just drop down right there and sleep. He couldn't sleep, though. He wanted to hear what was wrong with Zarak, and...sleeping only brought morning along faster.

Well, no matter what he thought, he was starting to doze off even as he stood there, but the shaman's voice brought him back. "Mm...bad indeed. His lungs are bleeding and filled with phlegm. His breathing is atrocious...no fever now though, thank Gods. How long has he been like this?" Other questions, as to who he was and what Kiyan was thinking running off would come later. But for now, she was running on a healer's instincts, and those instincts said to tend to the sick before anything else.

Kiyan shifted awkwardly, blinking wearily. "Since...earlier today..."

"Should have brought him in sooner," she said simply as she rose again, and as Kiyan blanched, she shook her head quickly. "No, no...it's not too late. I've seen worse. Come here." She had walked over to where she kept her supplies, and she picked up a knife from a small table. "Go out and get some avase, and peel off the skin while you're at it. And for God's sake, dry off when you get back. Can't have you getting sick, too," she said as she handed him the knife, which reminded him abruptly that he'd left his own behind. "You run, Kiyan, and I swear I'll have you switched like a toddler," she added. And meant it.

Then she went back to gathering up and combining the needed supplies, while Kiyan went outside, feeling like a nervous zombie, to quietly to carry out the task.

When he returned, carving off the last remnants of the green, thin, outer skin off the thick plant shoot, Okonwe had already created whatever concoction she had deemed would be best and had mixed it into a cup filled with water. She carefully raise Zarak up so he could drink. "This will help with the infection, help loosen the phlegm. It's bitter, but you need to drink it, and more water afterward, too. You need your liquids. Kiyan, the avase."

After she had gotten the medicine down Zarak, she covered him up again and placed the skinned plant shoot under his chin. It gave off a strong scent, almost akin to mint, and the vapors would also help with his breathing.

That finished, she sat back on her heels and rubbed at her eyes sleepily. "I'll have to perform a cleansing rite tonight as well...it'll take more than herbs to help him. Kiyan, I told you to dry off. Dry off and go to sleep. We'll talk in the morning."

Kiyan was too tired to debate, and he wouldn't have wanted to debate, anyway; he was wet, and he was cold, and despite everything, his body was begging for rest. She had everything under control now...

Half-awake, he picked up the blanket she'd used to dry Zarak and toweled off his damp hair and water sprinkled flesh, but that was about as far as he got. He didn't even bother to get a fresh blanket or change. He simply curled up on the floor near Zarak's bed, wrapped up in that semi-damp blanket--which he was too sleepy to realize kind of defeated the purpose--and fell asleep, leaving Okonwe to tend to Zarak through the night. For the moment, at least, he was no longer afraid or nervous...

He only had to worry about the morning.

He didn't know how he had even gotten up the first half of the stairs but it seemed like hours before he could even say he had moved at all.  His legs started refusing his weight with each passing moment, and the cough seemed to quicken and become worse as he strained himself to move upward.  He was disoriented, slipping periodically on the wet wood.

When the door opened, he felt dumb and slow as his brain fumbled to process exactly what was going on.  Kiyan had taken him to the village...he needed help and this was were they were going to get it....but...what...who...was at the door?  Did they hear the two figures bungling up the stairs towards the door?

Kiyan? he thought stupidly.  This woman knows him!

And then he remembered.  Of course, they were going to the Shaman, she would heal him and from the sound of her voice, reprimand the kid as well.  Zarak hoped that she would be rational...and if she wasn't, that he would be well enough to argue for his friend.  He hated the thought that he would be so out of it that he wouldn't even be able to do anything but learn about Kiyan's fate after it was too late.

The Shaman helped him up the last of the steps and within a few moments both he and Kiyan were swept inside the room.  Everything else happened in a haze as he was stripped of his clothes, once again, and toweled down to get the beads of water off of his skin.  When the towel swiveled across his head, the curls exploded into a frizzy mass of curls, but he couldn't care less.  At least now it would begin to dry and he wouldn't have to worry about being completely cold like he was now.  Without any clothes he found that he began shivering until the other blankets that the woman had brought in wrapped him up and he found himself lying down again.

Compared to the cave floor, this cot was like he was sleeping on clouds of cotton.  He wanted to fall asleep...to drift off, but the moment his eyes closed another cough ripped through him, bringing even more amounts of blood into his mouth and for a moment he nearly choked on it before realizing that he couldn't breathe it in....and it wouldn't be very polite to cough blood all over a strangers house...but...he couldn't swallow it either, that would be just as bad...

He didn't have much time to contemplate the curteousies of coughing blood on someone's floor before another cough rose and his body convulsed to his side and the blood slapped onto the floor.  Each breath was painful now and his breaths sounded even worse than they had before.  Wheezing through the infected phlegm and blood, his lungs swollen and body working with an effort to ride itself of the infectius fluids.

Blinking with slight confusion, Zarak allowed the shaman to lift him to a sitting position and choked down the liquid that was offered before he was laid down again.  He was surprised again as something was placed on his collarbone, a pungent aroma wafting through his nostrils.  Almost immediately it felt easier to breath, although the pain in his chest was still constant as the infection attacked from the inside.

"T...thank you..." he managed to say between coughs and wheezes.  And then another thought hit him.  If he didn't say something now then he might not be well enough to say something later.

"D....don'...be hard on...'im" he choked, "He's...good....good.." he couldn't get anymore out.  The hike to get to the village had been enough to take him from bad to worse...but perhaps he would have gotten just as bad had he stayed in the cave and then they would have been far....to far away for help.

Without another word, his mind slipped away into a hazy half sleep, slipping in and out of consciousness....

Okonwe smiled fondly at the man's final words before drifting away...but then she sighed quietly when she couldn't find the blanket she'd been using to dry and clean everyone, and found Kiyan asleep and wrapped up in it--even though there were fresh blankets right next to him. Scooting over to him, she disentangled him from the blanket, frowned when she found his clothes damp, and bundled him up in a fresh blanket. He must have been really tired to be that oblivious...then again, he was often oblivious. She frowned again when she noticed the bruise blossoming along his jaw; clumsy as always, too.

Shaking her head, she lifted him up a little and pillowed another blanket under his head, then, satisfied, went back to Zarak and began cleaning up the blood, including any that remained on his person. She'd have to watch him through the night, and perform the healing, as well, and while she was perfectly used to functioning on very little sleep, the latter would take it out of her. He wouldn't heal easily on his own from this, though, and with the way his condition was and the way it was progressing, it had to be done. She was weak in the ability, but at least she could stabilize him and jumpstart his recovery. Hopefully she could stop that bleeding, kill the infection...she was most concerned with that. She thought she saw pus in his phlegm...

Placing a hand lightly on his forehead, she closed her eyes and concentrated.

Perhaps it was good she was weak in the ability, for at least then no one asked questions. It would be too suspicious if someone recovered too quickly.

---

When Kiyan awoke, bright late morning sunshine was beaming in through the opened windows and a fresh, soothing breeze was wafting in. He could feel warm, soft blankets all around him, and a small jolt of surprise went through him. The last thing he remembered was passing out on a hard floor; he didn't remember so much softness and warmth, but one thing was for certain--he didn't want to move just yet.

He closed his eyes against the light and wriggled down deeper into the blankets, cheek pillowed against equally soft, cushiony cloth. Gods, but it felt like so long since he'd slept on anything but sand--wait.

His eyes fluttered open, and the interior of a clean, if cluttered, hut filled his vision, herbs and powders and feathers and stones displayed on various little tables and shelves. He could smell something cooking in the other room, which he recognized as stew, and he could feel his mouth watering despite himself. As long as it didn't have mussels in it...he thought that if he saw a mussel ever again, he'd die. But...wait...this wasn't right...he wasn't supposed to be...

Oh no.

He jerked up, suddenly fully awake when he realized where he was, and when the events from the day before fully impacted him. Oh no...Okonwe...he was...and Zarak! He turned his head quickly to the side, and saw his companion bundled up in the cot right next to him; he had curled up at the cot's foot on the floor. Good...he was still there...but...was he okay?

He heard a clacking in the other room, the tell-tale sound of a wooden bowl being filled, and a split-second debate ran through his head: pretend to still be asleep, or not. Gyah...pretending to sleep would only put things off...not prevent it. And he wanted to know how Zarak was, anyway. And...and he wasn't a coward! That seemed cowardly. Yeah...so...no faking it. His stomach gave a soft rumble. Erg...and if he was lucky, maybe he'd at least get some soup...

Drawing his knees to his chest and hitching the blankets up around him, Kiyan waited tensely until Okonwe finally stepped back into the room, a steaming bowl in her hand and looking quite weary, which was odd for her. She paused when she saw he was awake. "Hungry?" she offered, quietly so as not to disturb Zarak, and Kiyan lowered his head against his knees and nodded slowly like a skittish puppy, his green eyes big. She only smiled wryly and shook her head, then held out the bowl she'd been carrying to him. "You should be. You certainly look like you've lost weight, and there wasn't much of you there before." When he took the bowl, she vanished back into the other room to dish herself up a bowl, then returned and sat down across from him.

Kiyan just stared intently at his stew, studying the different chunks and poking around at them with a wooden spoon as he waited for it to cool enough to eat. There was maize and beans and rice and some sort of meat that looked like fish. No mussels. It smelled wonderful...but the quiet in the room--or at least the absense of words--was really awkward. "Um...is...is Zarak gonna be...?" he began weakly, still staring at the stew.

"Ah, so that's his name. Good to know. Yes...I watched over him all night, and he should, Gods willing, be doing much better today than he was when you brought him here. He'll pull through; he's lucky. How do you know him, anyway? He certainly isn't anyone from around here."

Kiyan was surprised she wasn't hitting him with the hard stuff first, and after nervously swallowing a bite of stew--it had been a bad idea to take a bite just yet, for that had nearly burned his tongue--he quietly related the story to her, barring some--okay, a lot--of details. He was horrible at lying and hated doing it, but it wasn't lying if he just sort of left out some things, like where he'd found him--couldn't give away his hide-out--and what Zarak's profession was. Or, for that matter, what they'd been talking about all that time.

That satisfied Okonwe, though, and she shook her head sympathetically. "Mm...it's no wonder he'd get sick after that. It's a wonder he even survived, for that matter. Well, if he survived floating around at sea for a while, you shouldn't be concerned about him pulling through this. He'll probably want to go home when he recovers. We could probably send him off with you when you go back with the Coryii tribe; they get visits from foreign traders often, and he could probably go home with one of them."

Erk! Kiyan jerked so suddenly he nearly sloshed hot stew all over his lap. No...no no no!

How Okonwe managed to touch upon two of his worst fears at the same time without even knowing it, he had no idea. The woman was good at that! No! Zarak couldn't go with him and be sent back with them! He'd told him he was a pirate, and pirates weren't liked among his people! If he went back with those traders, would they hurt him? Zarak was so brave in Kiyan's eyes, but when he'd talked about all that, he'd seemed scared. Would they do worse to him than just hurt him if they found out? And...the Coryii tribe! He...he didn't want to go with them...

Kiyan's mouth was gaping, and when the shaman raised an eyebrow, he closed it with a soft click. "U-um..." He was completely speechless.

Not a good idea. That wasn't a good idea at all!

"As for you, Kiyan...the Coryii tribe will be leaving here once they feel it is safe to travel, once the land is dried enough to travel on without having to worry about a wagon wheel getting stuck in mud. That will be a fews days, maybe more, as the storm seems to have headed toward their own homeland. No one but I, of course, knows you're back yet, but you will be leaving with them when they go. Don't worry--you won't be harmed. We already made them promise not to allow Maricha's man near you. You will, however, be marrying the widow. That was what was decided. Perhaps you will begin to learn some responsibility, since everything else has failed thus far. Do not even think about running around with any village girls when you get there--the woman is not interested in someone as young as you, so for God's sake don't look so disgusted, she just needs help, but it would still count as adultery. Which is far worse than what you have done. Thank Gods she was not yet married, only betrothed, and thank Gods no child came from it."

Yeah right...promises wouldn't keep that big hunter from going after him when no one was looking. And...marrying a widow...being basically her servant...not being able to court anyone his age, to actually love someone or...or anything...teach him responsibility...but...but he didn't know! And he was only irresponsible because he didn't want to be a shaman or an herbalist or a hunter or a fisher or farmer or...or...he didn't even know what he wanted to be, but none of any of that stuff that they wanted him to be! And Zarak going back with him?

But he kept his mouth shut and simply stared at the ground and ate his stew, though he didn't really taste it.

"Hey...you!  Boy!" Zarak jolted awake, realizing that he had fallen asleep before he had finished peeling all of the potatoes.  The sun was now high overhead and the back of his neck had begun to burn where he had been slumped over the barrel.  Ever since he had been taken by the pirates, his life had been a living hell, all three years of it.  Each day was filled with one torment after the next, allowing him to get only two or three hours of sleep per night before he was rudely awakened and put to work, even in the dead of night.

It seemed that these men took pleasure in watching him suffer, but they never once got even the slightest satisfaction to hear him beg for better treatment.  He was more thankful that they didn't kill him..and hadn't killed him these past years he'd been working on the ship.  He had lost so much weight that he now was a skelaton of his former self, and it didn't help that he was going through a growth spurt.  Any nutrition that he could have was immediately used to help aid his upward growth instead of giving some fat to his bones.

"Don' ye go asleepin' on me!" The resident cook ordered, bringing his boot down on the kids back, smiling at the crack of his head against the wooden floors.

"Ah, give it a rest, Mathys" a passing crewman replied, "Tha' boy'as more'n earned 'is place.  Look at 'im!  He 'ardly 'as any meat on dem bones!"

Whatever would have come of that conversation was cut off the moment a shout came from the crowsnest.  A ship was on the horizen and they were coming close.  They couldn't tell what type of ship it was until it raised a flag very similar to their own and the ship was attacked.  Pirates fighting pirates.  If he hadn't been so scared, Zarak would have found it amusing to see his enemies fall at the hand of one of their own.

"Eh, mate!" one man called, finding Zarak hiding between the barrels of water, "Lookee 'ere!"  Before he could shrink back, a hand grabbed his arm and pulled him out of his hiding place.

"'e's been starved t'the bone." the other man answered.  It was the first time since Zarak had met any pirates that they seemed honestly concerned about his appearance.  And before he knew it, he was swept off to another boat, this one much better than the one he had been on before.  They had asked him questions:  How old are you? 14.  How long have you been on that ship?  2 years.  Did they always treat you bad?  Yes.  Within days he felt like he was actually accepted.  The men made sure that he was given enough food for a boy his age until he was finally healthy again and he continued to grow with each passing week until he was taller than most of the men...

Zarak woke with a start, coughing again, but this time the pain had lessoned and it felt like he was coughing to rid himself of fluids in his lungs rather than trying to cough up infection and blood.  He felt oddly healthier...

But it had only been one night!  What had the Shaman done?  It was odd...to have been so ill only a few hours before and now he could actually think straight and the pain in his chest was more like a side effect of what the illness had done to them before.  They were beginning to heal, and the odd taste in his mouth from the blood and phlegm had faded.

Sitting up, he pulled his hands out of the blanket, trying to piece together everything that had happened, but he had faded quickly once he had been laid on the cot and all he could remember was being forced to drink something horribly bitter...and then....well...the rest was history, really.

Once his senses started working again, he smelled cooking wafting over from the other side of the hutt.  His stomach complained loudly, reminding him that he hadn't eaten since the one or two mussels he had eaten on the shore...however long ago that had been.  If his breathing had been easier, he would have taken a huge smell of the beautiful smelling concoction, but eventhough the pain hadn't grown any worse, he still obviously had liquid in his lungs that would need to be coughed up...and it would take a few days before he finally had his complete strength back.

Looking around the hutt, he finally was able to take everything in.  It was quaint...small....cluttered, but neat at the same time...definitely lived in, which was what he liked best.  A house that was too clean showed someone who was too stuffy for their own good, a messy house, someone lazy...but this...it was just the right amount of order and chaos thrown into one.

Upon his scrutinty of the house, he spotted the Shaman and Kiyan on the floor, and by the looks of Kiyan's face....things were not going well.  Obviously the tribe hadn't forgotten about the things he had done.  Not that Zarak thought they would...but he had hoped...maybe...that the shaman would have let him run off again?

Yeah...right....that had to be a dillusional dream of the fever.

Both the shaman and Kiyan twisted to look when a cough and the rustle of cloth announced Zarak was rousing, their conversation, for the moment, put on hold. He had been quiet...no wheezing that Kiyan could hear, and when he sat up, Okonwe smiled with tired satisfaction as he pulled himself up into a sitting position and began to survey the room. Kiyan and the shaman both were quiet, just watching him, and Kiyan wondered if she was quiet for the same reasons he was--because he remembered that fever dream and wasn't sure if Zarak was really awake; he didn't really want to get whacked again! But then Zarak's eyes seemed to focus as he turned his face toward he and the shaman. Despite the circumstances, a bright smile broke out across Kiyan's face, temporarily overriding the darkness that had been there.

"Zarak!" he exclaimed, sitting up straighter. He hadn't even realized he'd been hunched over defensively until he felt his spine straighten. "You're awake! How do you feel? Are you okay now?" He looked so much better...and his breathing wasn't so harsh. Even his coughing fit sounded better, and didn't appear to be so violent, and he wasn't spitting up blood anymore; his lips weren't even stained.

Kiyan had been so worried...so worried that he hadn't gotten there on time. Okonwe had scared him earlier when she'd said that he should have brought him in earlier, even though she'd reassured him later that it wasn't too late. But he looked better...he was even sitting up on his own and didn't sound like he was drowning in his own fluids!

Okonwe shushed any further questions with a gentle but stern, "Don't overwhelm him, Kiyan," and Kiyan quieted immediately, while she set her bowl down and went over to check up on Zarak. She listened to his breathing, checked his pulse, and felt his temperature...then smiled wryly when his stomach grumbled loudly, violet eyes weary yet amiable. "Well...your body apparently think it's well enough to eat, and I have to agree with it. You need some liquids, anyway." And with that, she rose to her feet and vanished behind the divider.

As usual, caretaking first, explanations and introductions later.

As she prepared the meal--knowing her, Zarak would not be getting the same meal he and Okonwe had, but a more mild meal, what Kiyan liked to refer to as sick food--Kiyan shuffled a little closer to Zarak's bedside. And completely disregarded Okonwe's prior warning.

"You look so much better! I was so worried, Zarak...I thought...I didn't know if...I'd never seen someone get like you did, and..." He spoke in hushed tones, voice lowered so Okonwe couldn't hear. "But she said you're gonna be fine now! Said it should only be a few days before you're better!" It didn't seem to startle him at all that Zarak was recovering so quickly, but then, he was used to Okonwe's treatments. She was a skilled doctor, and had a knack for making even the worst-off patients feel better in a short amount of time. Well...most of them. It was nothing out of the ordinary to Kiyan; he'd grown up around her his whole life, and just figured she had all the right medicines.

And then, right as he spoke those words, remembrance sank in, and his face fell. A few days...a few days and then...then...

"Um...Zarak..." he began, glancing back toward the other room, as though to make sure Okonwe wasn't there. "Alright, Okonwe and I were talking--" Hah, well, really, she was talking to him and he was listening obediently. "--and...she was saying when you got better...you'd be going with me, with that tribe I told you about, remember? Because traders from your tribe--I mean, your people--they come there now and then, so you could go home with them. That's what she said." He spilled it out quickly, then thought a little late that maybe Okonwe had told him to stop talking for a reason...he'd just woke up and had been horribly sick the day before, and here he was gabbing his head off!

But...well...he just really thought Zarak should know that.

It was important, and he didn't really want to say it around Okonwe, because she wouldn't understand why Kiyan would be worried about that, and he wasn't about to say, of course! And he wasn't sure what was going to happen after this...how much he'd get to even be around Zarak.

But now he just had to wonder if Zarak had even registered any of that yet.

Completely opposite of Kiyan's worries, Zarak listened silently as the news spilled from his lips in a nervous jitter.  So they were still going to ship him off to that other tribe....turns out they were a bunch of stuffed shirts just like he had guessed....but then...did they even have a choice?  Kiyan had hurt their honor, but he was going with the tribe he had wronged.

So maybe...maybe he wouldn't be able to do anything to help him....how was he going to convince the other tribe to let him take Kiyan?  They probably had some horrible fate in store for him....and there was no way he could convince them that he had a punishment worse for such a "horrible young man"....was there anything he could do now to help him out?

Well...he'd have to try at least, even if it was in vain.  It had been a promise after all....

What was he thinking?  He was a pirate.  Why not just steal him away?  Yeah, it had been a half dillusional thought before, but it made sense!  Why not just 'kidnap' him?  Then he'd be the victim and wouldn't get into anymore trouble if he just ran away.  Then...he'd probably have to leave a note of some sort too....just so they didn't think he had run off....

"I'm comin', Kiyan." he replied, resting his head in his hands and looking at his friend, "I told ye tha' I'd try t'elp ye...an' I can on'y do tha' in th'other village."  He contemplated for a moment.  What could he do?  Was there anything that would work?

"'ow are ye 'oldin' up?" he asked gently, or as gently as he could with his voice still husky from all the abuse it had taken.  But he wanted to make sure that Kiyan was going to be all right...and that he wasn't feeling too down about everything....

ooc:  aahhh....not much to write.....

Kiyan could feel his eyes widen in surprise at Zarak's answer, and a confusing mixture of dread and relief flooded him at the same time. He was coming. He'd said he would try and help, and he was sticking to his word. That, in and of itself, was enough to give Kiyan some comfort, and he knew that even if nothing came from this, he still respected the thoughtful gesture, and it meant a lot to him. It was more than anyone else would, or had, ever done for him...

That wasn't what came out of his mouth, though. He really appreciated all this, but Gods, did Zarak know what he had been meaning when he'd warned him?

"But...but...the traders...!" Kiyan whispered, glancing briefly back over his shoulder again, just as a precaution. "If--when--they come...would they know you? Or hurt you if they did? You said your people don't like you, and they sound like they'd be worse to you than anything that could happen to me..." Well, he hoped, at least.

But the way Zarak said it, it sounded like he'd already made up his mind, and even if he had decided not to go...well, Kiyan knew his people would find that strange; it was a rare time when a foreigner decided to stay among them. Usually, they just seemed to prefer being acquaintances, but anything more than that and they developed a case of culture shock.

"I'm sorry, I just...don't want you to get in trouble..." Which was the truth. And the more he thought about it...well...it had been stupid to even think that he could be helped, anyway. It was a good idea when he'd been daydreaming about it, before they reached the village, but now that reality had finally sank in, he didn't know how it was even possible.

No matter what angle he looked at it from, this was his fault. Even if Okonwe or the leaders believed him when he said he really didn't know Maricha was betrothed--which was the truth! But like he'd be believed...Okonwe was convinced, and Maricha had been convincing; it didn't help that he'd been too shocked and hurt to say anything intelligible in his own defense--it still wouldn't make a difference. Well, maybe it would have made a little difference...maybe instead of being sent off with the Coryii tribe, he'd be allowed to stay here, and he'd be punished instead as though he'd been running around with a local unmarried girl. It wasn't a much different punishment, but it at least meant he'd get to remain here...and no matter how much the people here drove him crazy, at least he was familiar with the culture and traditions and people. And he certainly didn't have to fear for his life here.

The Coryii...he'd be among a whole new group of people and traditions, and their culture was quite different from those of his own people. They were a harder people--he'd learned that much from all those times in the past that they'd come here. If he thought his own people were unreasonable, they had nothing on the Coryii as far as he was concerned.

Kiyan hadn't been kidding when he'd told Zarak that he was afraid Maricha's husband-to-be would kill him. If Maricha and her man had been married, or if a child had come from the union, by their laws, that hunter would have had every right to do just that. He was relieved that Okonwe and the leaders had discussed that with the Coryii...though, he still wasn't sure what definition of the word "hurt" the Coryii used...

Gods, he'd been so stupid...

"Huh? Oh...oh...yeah...I'm doing okay..." he lied, offering up a shaky smile and glad for the break from his thoughts. They hadn't been heading in a pleasant direction.

He was vaguely aware of the scent of coconut soup wafting pleasantly from the other room, and it was only a few minutes later when Okonwe returned, carrying yet another steaming bowl, and a wooden cup filled with cool water. Kiyan averted his eyes and took another bite of his own stew, which had cooled pleasantly over the last few minutes, and Okonwe offered Zarak the bowl as she settled down. “I don’t know what your people eat, but I do hope you like this. If you don’t, you don’t have to eat it…I can fix something else. But I do expect you to drink that water, and more after it,� she added.

It was a mild soup with coconut broth and a faint hint of lemon, with rice, some kind of  tender plant shoot, and a bean cake of some sort in place of fish or meat. In other words, a meal that would be easy on his stomach.

"Don' worry 'bout th'traders." he replied, trying to be quiet but finding it increasingly hard to keep his voice down.  Eventhough his words were indestinctable from a distance, he still felt like his deep, husky voice rumbled through the small hut like a scream.  "I've never been t'this land....an' I don' think they'll recognize me from anywhere.." he hoped, "I'm jus' worried 'bout ye.....goin' off with th'other tribe....."

It was worse than having your family killed and then taken hostage.  At least then you knew that there was nothing you could go back to...but to be forced to move away from everthing you ever knew?  That had to be worse than death.  And for Kiyan, the only way he would be free of it was if Zarak could find some way to help him.  And he would...he would do everything possible, even if it meant breaking a few more laws to abduct the kid....at least that way he wouldn't have to worry about living amongst a tribe who hated him.....in both cases.

I'm doing okay...even before the words left his mouth, Zarak knew that Kiyan was lying.  There was no way he could be okay when his entire world was falling apart as they spoke.  If Zarak had been in his position he knew that he wouldn't be "okay" by any stretch of the imagination.  Given, he had been a lot younger when everything he knew was taken away, but even at any age that type of wound could stay raw for years...

"Don' worry so much." Zarak told him with a sly wink, "Ye won' be stayin' long..."  and ask long as the other tribe, or the traders, didn't see the "P" branded on his wrist, he would be out of danger.  Unless, but some chance, one of the people recognized him, but that was a very slim chance.  It was rare for land traders to rove around the ocean.

He was about to ask Kiyan if the shaman had seen the brand, suddenly worried that she would recognize the mark....and considering he was completely naked beneath the tightly wrapped blankets, he hoped and prayed that she hadn't done a complete examination to look for oddities in his skin and such....but he didn't have a chance to ask, when the next moment the woman reappeared, carrying a bowl that smelled strongly of coconut, along with a cup of water.

Zarak made a face when she insisted that he drink all the water, "Ye'd think I'dve had enough o'that..." he remarked, slightly jokingly.  If he hadn't known better, he would have argued about drinking the water, but just to prove that he wasn't stupid, nor was he serious, he took a large gulp of the water.  His stomach roared again, and he traded the cup for the bowl of soup.  It must have been forever since he had last eaten, or maybe the shaman was just an exceptional cook, because the warm coconut broth was heavenly against his tongue.  He had tasted coconut once on his long travels on the sea...so maybe it was just the fact that he had not had the sweet substance in so long, that it was a blessed relief.  So much better than the smoked meats and barreled water he was use to on the ships.

"It's good," he replied between bites, trying his hardest to have some manners as he ate, but it was difficult when it seemed like ages since he had last had any food in his stomach.  Those mussels had long since left his system, and all he had had to eat before was salt water, which was very appetizing.

As he sat there eating, he was vaguely aware of the eyes upon him, and felt slightly selfconcious.  His chest was exposed, revealing a few large scars from little tiffs here and there.  He was a pirate after all...but what was he going to tell Okonwe?  She would certainly notice them...especially the long one on his side which had very nearly killed him after it had been inflicted.  And then there were the random ones that littered his body.  Not to mention he only had a blanket covering up the rest of him....he felt like any slight movement would expose more than he was willing to show, especially seeing that the shaman was, in fact, a woman.

He wouldn't be staying long?

The words echoed in Kiyan's head, making him fidget as he sat there running the sentence through his head. He had a nervous habit of fidgeting with his hands or shaking his leg when he was anxious, and as his hands were full with the bowl of stew, he did the latter, though he never even noticed when he was doing it. Zarak had something in mind...he knew that sly look and wink. He wasn't going to be staying at that other tribe long. What...what was he...how was he...?

Well, this was going to drive him crazy until he finally got more alone minutes with his friend and could ask him what he had in mind...or if he was just misinterpreting the look altogether. Knowing his luck, now Okonwe probably wouldn't leave them alone again! Agh...and Zarak had told him not to worry. He tried not to...he really did. He trusted Zarak far more than he did anyone here, and Zarak...he was actually worried about him. But Kiyan couldn't help it, and truth be told, he was terrified, though he did his best not to show it. Zarak said he would help, and he trusted him...but what if he couldn't help him? What if he tried but he couldn't actually do anything? To top it off, what if he tried something and the other tribe found out about it, or about him?

So many ifs...he couldn't help but worry, even though he knew it did no good. Zarak's confidence did calm him a little, though.

And judging by those rather impressive scars he sported, scars Kiyan had noticed before but hadn't really had time to study, Zarak had been in worse scraps before and come out all right. That certainly counted for something, right?

Okonwe smiled in gentle amusement at Zarak's light joke, and then in approval as he drank and ate. Good, so he was truly joking and wasn't going to be stubborn; people always seemed to loathe eating and drinking when it was best for them, and she was no exception; she got ill like anyone else. And, from the way he was drinking the soup down...well, she hardly needed his comment that it was "good" to safely assume that he liked it. Most people did enjoy her cooking, and it was something she secretly took pride in. "If you would like more when you finish, please, don't be shy."

That was said with a hint of ironic amusement among the words. As a doctor, she'd tended enough patients to be able to read discomfort like a book, and she could read it in him. Poor man...he looked like he was afraid to move. Never mind that she was a doctor and had seen more naked bodies, young and old, male and female--including his own--than he probably had in his life, but perhaps doctors where he came from went about things differently? She liked to go about things practically, and he'd had to get out of those wet clothes, and she hadn't exactly been concerned about dressing him then. Especially not when she hadn't been so certain how well the healing would work; if he was going to spring another fever in the night, she would have to keep him cool, and dressing and undressing him over and over would be tiring.

Luckily, he seemed to be recovering nicely.

"I'll have Kiyan wash your clothes for you," she said, mostly just to have something to say. Light, easy conversation. She had many other questions, not to mention she still had to discuss with him what she had discussed with Kiyan concerning him, but for now she was following her own advice; she didn't want to overwhelm him when he was just recovering! If he felt strong enough to carry a conversation, she would allow him to lead it.

"I assume you still want them, yes? In the meantime, whenever you feel so inclined, I do have some clothes here for you to wear until your clothes are cleaned and dried. But I don't want you even thinking about doing anything for now; you're on the road to recovery, but we can't chance a relapse. Kiyan!" Kiyan gave a violent jump. "Stop that, you're driving me crazy. You don't have to torture yourself, you can go relieve yourself."

Kiyan's face darkened with a blush, and he quickly stopped his fidgeting, suddenly realizing what she was referring to. "Sorry," he said quickly. Gyah...she loved teasing him...and even if that had been true, he'd hold it! He didn't really want to go out there just yet; the village was long since awake by now, and he wanted to put off facing that for as long as he could. Didn't seem like that would be long, though, since Okonwe was going to set him to washing things.

Shaking her head slightly, Okonwe looked back to Zarak. "By the way, I'm Okonwe. I see you've met our Kiyan, obviously, and according to him, you are...Zarak, am I right? You are quite fortunate, I must say, yet from the looks of things, you must already be aware of that," she added gently, regarding his scarred torso. She had seen the scars before in their entirety earlier, and she couldn't say she had hardly seen so many scars on a hunter. He had to be a warrior of some sort, she decided.

OOC: WHAT IS IT WITH US AND CREATING UNREPLYABLE POSTS!?!?!?!??!!!???!?!??! we're waaaay too good at that!

ic:

Zarak found his attention shifting from the bowl of...whatever it was...to Kiyan who was fidgiting (he's still sitting next to him on the bed isn't he?) making the bed shake and causing him to catch the bowl a few times before its contents spilled over the rim.  But his attention wasn't diverted too long as the aroma of the stew made his stomach complain everytime he stopped eating.  He felt like it had been ages since his last meal, and that very well could have been true....not to mention he was probably still getting over his dehydration, but he felt more alive this morning.

Whatever the shaman had done in the night, he felt as if he were more than fifty percent healed compared to what he had felt like before....as if his lungs were being split in half every time he breathed.  It still hurt a little when he breathed, and when he chuckled under his breath, but it felt like the crushing hand suffocating him with water, phlegm, and blood had lifted....

What had the shaman done?

The only other time he had felt this much better was the last time he had become ill enough to take off work...and apparently had nearly slipped past anyone's aid....until they called the healer.

Zarak choked on his stew when the thought came to him.

It couldn't be possible!  Kiyan had said that no magic existed in his village anylonger, that all the magic users had died somehow...mysteriously....then....if it wasn't magic, what was it?  There was no way any normal human could cure him as quickly as this shaman had...

"Wha'?  Oh...oh...yeah...I'd like t'keep 'em" he replied about his clothes.  It had been interesting enough walking around with only a blanket covering him, and he was sure that walking around in a skirt like Kiyan's would feel just as akward....it made him feel oddly...feminine, and that feeling didn't suit him at all.

He found himself choking once again on his stew as the woman poked fun at Kiyan's fidgiting, but he masked his chuckle into a cough.  He didn't want Kiyan to think he was laughing at him....but you had to admit, it was funny!  Good, so this woman wasn't just a stick in the mud, she had a personality that was more than the stuffed shirts he had assumed he would find in the village.

"Pleas'd t'meetcha" he replied with a small nod of his head as she introduced herself, "An' yeah...I'm Zarak."  As Okonwe regarded the scars that littered his torso he shifted uncomfortably.  Now that she had seen them....there was no way he could label himself as a farm...or an innocent fisherman..... damnit... he thought I didn' even think 'bout tha'....wha' th'hell am I suppose t'tell 'em?  Well....perhaps he'd leave that until he was asked...and he hoped that wouldn't be too soon.  "Yeah....I've been real lucky..." he added, trying to bring her healers eyes up from his scars, "If Kiyan hadn' o'found me, I wouldn' ev'n be here..."

Pausing for a moment, he thought about what else he could say....something that might get him more information about the people he would be traveling to with Kiyan.....it was better to make an opinion and be on guard before he attempted to deceive them....

"Wha's t'be done with Kiyan?" he asked, setting his bowl down, now more than three quarters empty.  It would be best to play innocent....maybe he'd get more information that way.

[XDD Seriously! It's scary! Ahahahah, whoopsies. >.> We need some action to happeeeen! Hmmm. And yep, Kiyan hasn't moved. XP]

Okonwe gave a wicked grin. Of course he'd want to keep his clothes! He was a foreigner, and come to think of it, he'd probably look ridiculous in village attire. From Kiyan's knowing smirk--a half-hearted smirk, he was likely still off in his own stressful little world--they had probably already dealt with that little cultural difference. Zarak wore a lot more than any of them did from what she'd observed. Poor man would probably feel naked if they forced him to wear what they did. Well, at least as naked as he was now, only with clothes on...

Not that she knew anything about he or his people. But she could empathize, and imagine, and guess. Doing what she did, you had to have empathy if you were to be any good. A cold shaman...now that was an oxymoron if ever there was one, as far as she was concerned.

Okonwe raised an eyebrow when Zarak started choking, and for one second sincere concern flitted across her face. Maybe he was having a relapse...maybe she hadn't purged enough of that illness out of him for his body to heal on its own. If so, they'd end up right back at the beginning, which would be bad for him--she wasn't sure how much his body could take after everything it seemed to have gone through, and being half-healed only to sink back into sickness would be even more draining on a patient than just dealing with the sickness the first time around--and bad for her--she wasn't so sure she'd have the strength yet to properly deal with his relapse. She held her breath, waited. It was her nature to care about everyone she nursed back to health; each person in this village was, ultimately, her responsibility when all else failed and things got bad.

Maybe the healing had failed...maybe she'd done something wrong...maybe...

Maybe he was just choking on his stew.

She noticed Kiyan looked worried as Zarak received her pleasantly and she nodded her head back with a small smile. Oh boy. Knowing him, he'd probably told the man all sorts of horror stories concerning her in advance, and was now disappointed that Zarak wasn't acting like she was a monster, too.

That kid...

She also noticed that Zarak seemed sort of uncomfortable as her eyes curiously roved over his rather impressive collection of scars, wondering at what on Earth he could have been through to acquire all those marks, so she raised her eyes back to his face. Okonwe sometimes forgot how awkward being stared at could make some people, because as a healer trained to read wounds and a shaman trained to read signs, she just naturally did a lot of staring and observing. He probably thought she was checking him out or something; it hardly even occured to her that he was a very naked man under those blankets, and she was a woman. That just wasn't an issue for her anymore, but...as for those who came to her, well, it could be.

Okonwe blinked momentarily at Zarak's question, but the surprise quickly wore off. Oh, of course Kiyan would have told him...

And it was good for Zarak to know, anyway, because it saved having to explain why Kiyan and Zarak would be leaving.

"Ah...so, Kiyan obviously already told you about the little disaster he fathered, though likely not in those words," she murmured, voice taking on a slightly sharper edge, mostly for the boy's benefit. She gave a soft sigh. Time for explanations. "I don't know how they do things where you come from, Zarak, but I am certain they probably have customs and laws there, and valid reasons behind those customs and laws, even if you may not be able to see them. Kiyan shamed our tribe, but he wronged another in a...rather serious way that was almost, but thankfully not quite, adultery. The girl wasn't yet wed, which is lucky for Kiyan, because the other tribe views death as an appropriate punishment for such an act--they have no tolerance for disloyalty or deception of any sort, which I suppose comes from being the descendents of a warrior people. Trust is a big issue.

"For what Kiyan did...while it was just as irresponsible and stupid, it was a somewhat less dangerous, set in stone area that we could negotiate on. He wronged their tribe, so they have claim on him. But we could work with them. He'll be going with them to live, he will be put to work, and to further keep him out of trouble, he'll be marrying a woman who recently lost her husband. It's a far cry from what the original idea was, which was to let the husband-to-be decide the matter when they got back to the tribe, so long as it didn't involve any real permanent damage, whatever that means. He couldn't have picked a better tribe to scratch an itch with," she added dryly.

"As for you," she said suddenly, deciding now was as good a time as any to tell Zarak of his own fate, "You'll be wanting to go home, correct? Ironically enough, the very tribe Kiyan will be heading off with is also one that does business with your people--or at least people who may know your people--so I thought that perhaps you could make the trip with them. Your decision, of course. They'll be leaving in a few days...you should be well by then. It'll give you time to think about it, and me time to ask on your behalf. They shouldn't mind, given the good relations they have with your people, but I don't think I even have to really warn you not to get too friendly with their girls--or our girls, for that matter. Unless you want to marry them. Purity is important here. Speaking of which..."

She turned to Kiyan, who had been glumly, yet quietly, listening, feeling more and more nervous and down with every word she said. He blinked over at her, then grimaced a little; he knew that look. She was looking at him as though she'd just noticed him, which usually meant trouble...like that she'd just remembered something she wanted to have him do.

"What are you still doing here? Didn't I tell you to go wash Zarak's things? Well? Go on. Don't worry, the Coryii stick among their own camp, mostly, you'll be fine. Go. Clean yourself up while you're at it."

Kiyan's shoulders stiffened reflexively--what? She hadn't said...!--but he got up quickly nonetheless and gathered up Zarak's things in his arms. He was stubborn in private, but there was no way he'd disobey Okonwe in person. He gave one last look at Zarak, biting his lip, before Okonwe nodded curtly to the door, dismissing him. Argh...she was getting rid of him! He knew this trick! His expression went from reluctant to incredulous as realization sank in. She wanted to talk to Zarak alone. That was what she was doing, and he knew it!

Exhaling sharply out his nose in frustration, he grabbed for a soap she had set out earlier in preparation and shouldered open the door. Then he was gone, bright morning sun stinging his eyes as he marched down the steps. She was probably going to use this time to tell Zarak all about him, like how irresponsible he was, or what a disappointment he was, or all that other stuff. Just what he needed Zarak to hear. Not that he was afraid Zarak would believe her, but...but...he still didn't want her saying that! And of course, still not a word about Maricha...it was all his fault...of course...and he was too meek to say anything.

The river wasn't far away, and luckily no one was near it when he got there. He walked with his head down just in case, though, and then finally knelt and started scrubbing the clothes, one article at a time. He was careful with them--they were Zarak's things!--but at the same time, he scrubbed with a vigor that was half irritation and half impatience, for he wanted to get this done as soon as he could so Okonwe wouldn't have too much time to do any serious damage.

Meanwhile, Okonwe stared at the door as it swung lightly on its hinges, smiling wryly. She shook her head. "Well...anyway. Zarak...I had a question for you. I was wondering if--if you decided to go with Kiyan, that is--if it was possible for you to sort of, I don't know...watch his back a little while you're there? If you're there?" She lifted her bowl and sipped a little of the remaining broth, watching him over the rim. When she set it down again, she continued on in her casual tone. "For all his faults, he did save you. He has a good heart, even if he has poor judgment. The punishment will be good for him in the long run. But not the hazing, and I can imagine there will be that."

Zarak watched Kiyan leave the building, his lips turned up in a slight smile that showed his amusement.  The kid had walked as if he had been offended...not that the pirate would blame him.  He was sure that his clothes were sandcrusted, dirty, and smelled like cooked cabadge mixed with seaweed.  Anything that foul would make anyone offended....even someone who had no sense of smell!

Once the door clammered shut behind him, his attention was brought back to Okonwe as she continued the sentence she had stopped saying while Kiyan was in the room.  It was obvious that she didn't want him in there at the moment, and Zarak was curious as to what she wanted him to know.

After all....it wasn't everyday you nearly died, were saved by a boy barely past manhood who had wronged a vengeful tribe, and were now talking to his guardian....it was slightly unsettling....

"Ye think it'll be good fer'im?" he asked, leaning back on the wall and wrapping his arms across his chest as he studied her for the first time, nakedness forgotten for the moment, "It's never good fer ye t'break a man before he's lived long 'nough t'know what it's like t'be one."  He paused, mind racing for words that wouldn't offend her or her people...but none of what he wanted to say could be watered down...not something that he felt so strongly about, "I don' know how yer people do things....I prob'ly never will know, but from where I come from...the woman can be jus' as guilty as th'man an' it ain't fair t'punish one wi'out th'other swearin' she be truthful.  From my world...if ye lie under oath, a curse eats yer heart."  Well...that was basically what happened.  The curse was the magic placed on you when you swore, and it would slowly kill you until you either confessed, or died.

But he was also a pirate....soo....he knew he had some unorthedox methods to telling the truth.

"I'm not sayin' tha' he shouldn' be punished," he added, remembering her laws, "Accordin' t'yer laws, Kiyan did a 'orrible crime, but givin' 'im away t'th'other tribe...makin' him marry an' lockin' 'im into a life where he ain't never gonna find love fer 'imself...he's not gonna learn discipline!  He's gonna learn to be servile, loose 'is mind afore he matures."

He stopped, breathing deeply through his nose, and taking a swig of the water he had been given to wet his throat which was still sore and he was saying quite  alot...he just hoped that Okonwe wouldn't be too offended....

"Bu' eventhough I don' agree wi'ye....I can' do nothin' 'cause I'm an outsider" haha...yeah right, just wait and see what he could do.... "Bu' I'll look out for 'im."  Looking up at her, his eyes were hard in a silent oath as he stared into her eyes unblinking, "I never forget a debt.  An' I won' leave 'till I can save his life."

It was a silent threat, but it was abiguous enough that she could take it in any context that so pleased her.  If she wanted to think that he was planning on stealing Kiyan away from a life of servitude, she could, but she could also think that he was vowing to protect the boy from any of the other tribe members who hoped to catch the boy off guard and hurt him for what he had done.

Either way, she didn't know the true meaning behind his oath, and therefore couldn't go to higher authorities to convict him....although he hoped that she wouldn't go that far.  He had pushed the line...he knew that....but he wasn't sure he had overstepped his bounds too far....not yet at least....

He just hoped he wouldn't have to break any laws to fulfill his vow....

Weird, coming from the thoughts of a pirate.

Okonwe stared at Zarak for a long time after he had finished his spiel, but oddly enough, her stare was void of anger. Instead, there was a strange sort of amusement there, mingled with a hint of surprise. She hadn't said a word throughout his entire lecture--and she could only call it a lecture, for she certainly knew what they were as she did an awful lot of lecturing--but, then again, she probably couldn't have gotten a word in edgewise had she tried. Needless to say, she'd never had the tables turned on her before, and the last time she'd ever been lectured was when she had been a child. She'd probably been no older than Kiyan then, and that had also been about the time she had begun really training to be a shaman.

Her dark violet eyes only narrowed a little toward the end as he met her gaze seriously. It almost looked a challenge, his expression. Or a promise, perhaps. Yet all she did in reply to that was smile a little and say, "Thank you."

The double meaning was there, but she truly had no reason to think he would actually try anything...overtly stupid, for both Kiyan and his sakes. Then again, she also had no idea how close Zarak and Kiyan had gotten, or anything about Zarak's past.

Yes, he had pushed the line, and quite a bit! No one had ever spoken to her like that before, and if anyone ever had in public, they certainly would have been taken down a notch, and quickly, outsider or not--though an outsider would have been treated with a little more tolerance, given their assumed lack of knowledge of how things worked in their society. But they weren't in public, he was an outsider, and if anything this...was just oddly interesting. She was used to people simply respecting her word, maybe questioning it, but never openly challenging it like he was.

Some of the things he had said were also just downright funny, and it had taken an effort not to burst into incredulous laughter. Oh Gods...what had Kiyan told him?! Then again, the boy couldn't really be blamed too much for getting things mixed up. She'd made sure he wasn't there when they'd been discussing what to do about him because, quite frankly, he'd already been scared out of his wits. Especially when they started hashing out whether or not that had counted as adultery...that was about when she had decided it was best he not be present, and if she had had her way, that experience in and of itself would have been punishment enough. The girl's uncle had wanted to break his neck himself, and Kiyan looked ready to go into shock.

She took a moment to get her bearings and collect her thoughts before she answered, smoothing over her features. "I don't know what the boy told you, but that girl isn't getting off free. She has a future husband to face. However...yes. It is true that the field is not quite level. She is not in as severe a position as Kiyan. She claimed she was seduced."

At that she shook her head wryly. "I think it's safe to say the boy doesn't know the first thing about seduction. However, the other tribe was more inclined to believe their own rather than someone they don't know, our own tribe already views him as irresponsible, in both tribes men are charged with a higher level of responsibility, and he chose that perfect moment to lose his voice, so he couldn't explain himself. Though I could vouch for him as I know him best, in the eyes of the others, his behavior was rather...self-incriminating. Running away did not make his case look any better. Then there is the issue of shame...he shamed our tribe, and that is not something taken lightly. Had this happened among our own, the shame would have been his own. He brought it on us all. That tribe was here in good faith, and he did that. Regardless of how responsible the girl was, Kiyan was taught better than that. He knew better than to do something like that, especially with another tribe's girl. He couldn't have chosen a more stupid and dangerous exploit. He could have stopped. He didn't. He knew the risks."

She rubbed her temples. "It...is complicated enough when this happens within our own tribe, but when there is a conflict between the people of two tribes, it is a bit more serious. Two sets of laws and customs have to be taken into consideration, though the side that is wronged has a greater say in the matter. Does this make a little sense? If we fail to repay our debt to them, it can only get worse." She sighed and shook her head. "Again, it is complicated. I do not make the laws, though I understand the need for them. I am an authority here, but in the end, my voice is only one of many. And yes. I think it will be good for him. It is better than the alternatives offered, and it will keep him out of trouble, teach him responsibility and keep him from getting himself killed. He's been lost a long time, no direction, no desire for direction, just constant rebellion. That woman is old and will not live long. This issue will blow over with time. If he treats his time there wisely, he can work his way out of the mess he created. Sometimes, a man needs to be broken to be built back up again. Or, in this case, a boy. And sometimes, sacrifices must be made for the greater good."

Reaching for his bowl, Okonwe stacked it with hers and Kiyan's and collected them in her arms. Then she stood. "He had a lot of potential. But I could only do so much."

She shrugged lightly, but a look of regret flashed across her face despite the stern casualty she aimed for. Then she also scooped up his water glass to refill it, and stepped away through the cloth divider to tend the dishes.

The Pirate took a deep breath as the Shaman left his side of the tent.  She made sense, and his sensible side reminded him of that, but how much sense did he really have?  Not too much considering he was able to push any "sensible" thought out of his mind and concentrate on how exactly he was going to get Kiyan away.

There was no way he could steal his young friend away now, under the noses of his entire tribe....after what he had told Okonwe, the tribe would believe that Zarak had helped Kiyan escape and then they'd both be in a shit load of trouble....no...he couldn't do that.  Even if they could get far enough away, if someone recognized them both then they would be dragged back and the poor kid would face even harsher penalties then he was facing now.

No....Zarak couldn't get him away yet....he would have to meet this other tribe and play his cards then.

If they were so keen on killing Kiyan as Okonwe said, then his work could be surprisingly simple...if they were easily swayed against their word.....From his scars and muscles from working on a ship for over a decade Zarak could easily convince them he was a warrior, give him a rapier and he could show them....but....what if he convinced them he was a slave trader?  That could be interesting.....and it could very well work....minus the fact that Kiyan didn't seem to be the greatest liar.....so any plan he would come up with would have to be kept secret from the boy and Zarak would have to act so well that he would fool even the boy who trusted him and he himself had grown rather fond of.

Well, if it was act they wanted, it was certainly an act they'd get.  He hated deceiving someone he cared about, but he had to convince the villagers that he agreed with their laws and that he looked at Kiyan with little more than disdain....like the dirt under his feet....and he would have to start soon....but not so suddenly that Okonwe grew suspicious....

Damnit!  He had said too much and now that lady in the other room would know that he was fond on the kid!  Shit....this was going to be harder than he thought....maybe he could just be short with him instead....act like he contemplated the Shaman's words and silently agreed with them.....yes...that would be the best bet....

Taking another breath he ran his fingers through his hair before wrapping a blanket around his waist and silently walking to the door.  He needed fresh air....he hated confined spaces and this little room was the epitome of confinement!  He wouldn't go far though....just sit on the from steps.  He had gotten a lot of his strength back, but not nearly enough to run away or walk for long distances.

Sitting on the porch he leaned back and breathed in the fresh air.  The wind still carried salt from the ocean, but now it was mingled with the smell of fresh rain and mud that had settled on the pathways through the village.  With another breath he tracked that storm that had hit last night and found that strong winds had already blown it miles south and the day promised sunshine with very little cloud cover.

Wonderful.  As much as he loved the ocean and being wet, he was through with the rain for now.

It was a while before Kiyan had finished washing Zarak's clothes, the articles so crusted with salt from all that time in the water that it took some extra scrubbing to get them clean again. Which irritated him all the more, because who knew what was being said inside that hut while he was out here. Not that he was really afraid of Okonwe poisoning his mind against him or anything...well...maybe a little. He and Zarak hadn't really known each other for that long at all, but...well, he really did trust him. He came across as the trustworthy, open type, and seemed able to relate with a lot of what he was going through, or to at least see his side of things. He liked him...he was different. But still...

Finally done, he wringed out the clothes and started back quickly, both as much to avoid notice as to get back before he gave Okonwe and Zarak too much alone time. Soon, the hut was back in view, and Kiyan could see Zarak sitting out on the steps outside it, blessedly alone. Perfect! Breathing a sigh of relief, Kiyan quickened his pace; there were quite a few things he wanted to ask him while he was alone, and he probably wouldn't have much time in which to ask them.

No such luck.

"Kiyan?"

Kiyan stiffened in mid-step, halfway back to the hut with the damp clothing bunched up in his arms and his shoulders hunching up as he cringed a little inside. Aw man...so much for that.

Sure enough, as he turned his head toward the voice's source, there was his older brother starting toward him, eight years older and tall at six feet with the strong upper body of one accustomed to both constructing and maintaining the boats his village used--and hauling fish-laden nets up into them. Like Kiyan, Saru had sea-green eyes--though they were currently ringed with darker circles--and sandy brown hair, though his hair was kept cropped short, save for a long, decorative braid in the back that reached down between his shoulder blades. Kiyan could only watch him dumbly as he approached...

And practically crushed his much smaller body in a bear hug.

"You idiot! Where have you been?! Damn, I don't even know whether to hug you or hurt you at this point, you ass," Saru growled as Kiyan inwardly decided that he'd apparently settled for a mixture of both--it felt like his chest was being squeezed flat! When Saru finally released him and held him firmly by the shoulders at arm's length, glancing over him for signs of injury as Kiyan worked air back into his lungs, he just snorted. "Ah, whatever. I'm just glad you're in one piece. That was still an idiot move, though, little bastard," he said, affectionately running the knuckles of one hand over the top of Kiyan's head while Kiyan winced at the familiar gesture; affection from his brother tended to leave bruises. "You had us worried."

Kiyan could only blink at that as he reached up to rub his sore head. Um...well...wow...someone was in a really good mood. He'd never really had a close relationship with any of his brothers--they were older than him, and by the time he'd grown up enough to tag along with them, they'd already acquired families of their own. They hadn't had the time to really develop a close bond. "Ah...really?"

"Yeah, really. Hey, so you've already been to Okonwe's, eh? She the one that dragged you back?"

"Yeah...and no, I came back on my own," Kiyan answered, glancing beyond him toward Zarak.

Saru gave his shoulders a slight squeeze before releasing him and crossing his arms. "Ah...heh, yeah, then I guess you know you're still busted. The Coryii are still here, too. Sorry...oh, right, is Okonwe still in there? Sorry, but I'm kind of in a hurry...Rissa's sick...morning sickness..." And then he grinned and ruffled Kiyan's hair again. "You sure missed a lot...yeah, she's with child! You're finally gonna be an uncle! So you'd better figure out a way to visit now and then; the Coryii aren't all that bad, they're just mad right now..." he said, and gave a slight cough. Understatement.

Kiyan offered up a vague smile, but before he could offer congratulations or anything (like making sure he understood not to tell anyone else that he was here--gyah, he so did not want to deal with that yet!)--Saru went on, already switching subject. "Heey...who's that guy over there?"

Zarak did kind of stand out...considering he was now the only blonde in the village.

Once more, before Kiyan could answer, energetic Saru had already set off to answer his own question, which tended to be a habit of his. Bluntness, and a short attention span, also seemed to be another one of his quirks that Kiyan had long since gotten used to. He jogged after his brother to keep up and met him just as he started in with the questions.

Nooo...Saru, don't start talking! Argh! He was eating into the time he needed to ask Zarak his own questions! Okonwe would probably then come out here soon and set Kiyan to some other useless task and then...ugh, he loved his brother, but damn...

"Hey, you're not from around here, are ya? Sorry, it's just your hair. Haven't seen your face, either. Where ya from? Whatcha doin' around here?"

"Saru...doesn't Rissa need medicine...?" Kiyan couldn't help but interject, trying not to sound too exasperated--both for himself and for Zarak. Zarak probably still didn't feel too good, anyway, and being asked those kinds of questions by a stranger...argh...

Saru ignored him.

[bahaha...I didn't know what I was doing in this post. >.> Um...yesh. I hope I gave you something to respond to. If not, tell me and I'll fix stuff!]

Before he even had the slightest chance to contemplate how he would act and what he would say to Kiyan and to the villagers, Zarak's musings were interrupted by a tall man who seemed very talkative.  Behind him stood Kiyan with a look of exhasperation that clearly read he wanted to man to go away.

Well, now was as good a chance as any to start making that seed of doubt spred.  If Kiyan didn't want Zarak to talk to this man, then perhaps he should try and talk to him as long as he could....not to mention it would make any alone time with Kiyan short, thus making it easier to lie to the kid through actions rather than short, sarcastic words that might seem very out of character.

With a startled blink, Zarak looked up at the grinning man and couldn't help grinning slightly himself.  Man, smiling really was contagious!

"I'ma seatrader an' tha' storm tha' hit las' nigh' hit me ship out a'sea." He replied in his heavy island accent, " I was wash'd up on th'beach and brough' here t'recover after a mean bough' o'sickness"  That should make it sound like he was pretty talkative!  And hopefully the man would buy it and continue to talk to him.

"Ye've gotta pretty nice village 'ere." he added looking around with a simpletons curiousity, or at least he hoped.  "I 'ope tha' th' storm didn' cause ye much trouble.  Man, but tha' was one nasty piece o'weather.  i'ma jus' glad tha' it looks pretty clear t'day, I'm done wit those storms fer now."  With a shake of his head Zarak made it seem as if he had lost himself in his musings and was bringing himself back to reality.  It was best to play ignorant and pretty absentminded...but not too bad lest Okonwe saw through him as being fake...gyah!  This was all too hard!  He hated small talk but now he found himself being smack dab in the middle of it just to keep his and Kiyan's alone time to a minimum!  What could he do now but continue on the track he had laid?  migh' wanna tone it down jus' a bit, though he thought to himself.

"I'm sorry, didn' introduce myself.  I'm Zarak"  He reach out his hand for a hand shake hoping that  it wasn't some gesture that was looked down on in the village.  That would be a nice one to explain...

...And Kiyan's eyes only glazed over as Zarak began to talk. And talk. And talk some more!

Whaaat? What was he doing? No! He was probably just trying to be polite, given his brother had come up to talk to him, but...oh Gods. Saru would get talking, and then he'd never shut up. Chewing on his lip ring nervously as Zarak babbled, he decided to try and make his own presence a little more obvious by skirting around Saru to stand just to the left and a little behind him, out of his brother's line of vision--but still in plain sight of Zarak. And then he shook his head as he tried to make eye contact with the other man, tried to do something short of speaking to let Zarak get the hint. No talking to Saru! Kiyan needed to talk to Zarak, and badly! Didn't Zarak remember that? C'mon, it would be so easy for the man to act like a complete idiot and get everyone else to ignore him, thinking him some uncivilized, but perfectly harmless, outsider. Why couldn't he see that? The man wasn't stupid by a long shot, so this should be obvious, and who knew when they'd get a chance to speak to each other alone again!

But aside from that, Kiyan kept perfectly quiet. It would be disrespectful to interrupt, and Saru and Zarak were both his elders.

"Hah, not a problem, Zarak," still smiling cheerily and not seeming to notice Zarak's rambling. Then again, he was also a rambler, so he bounced back fast when other people loaded him with lots of pointless information. Maybe it was because he hung around a lot of coarse, old toothless fishermen all the time, but he seemed to have no problem decyphering Zarak's thick accent, whereas Kiyan had had some difficulty--and still admittedly did at times.

When Zarak held out his hand to him, he simply blinked and looked down at it for a moment. Maybe he was swatting a fly? Ah well. He shrugged and chuckled lightly. "I'm Saru, and it looks like ya already met my brother there," he said, fondly glancing over at Kiyan, who quickly froze until he looked back to Zarak. "Anyway! We don't get many outsiders here. You're kinda the first we've had in a while...never had any wash up before, least not since I've been around. So, uh...hey, hope you don't mind the mess! The storm did kinda tear down some trees and whatnot so...oh! What'd ya trade, by the way? And is your hair really like that? Like...naturally? I've never seen anyone with hair like that, it's almost like <I>sand, and--"

Kiyan couldn't take it anymore. "Saru! What about Rissa?" Saru turned slowly to look at him.

"Huh...?Oh...yeah. Rissa. Hey, Zarak, I gotta go, but...you'll be around, right?" Smiling, he moved to walk around Zarak, half tempted to touch his hair--Kiyan could see it, the way he paused and raised his hand before putting it back down; he was a pretty touchy person--and easily bounded up the steps to Okonwe's place to knock lightly on the doorframe.

Kiyan seized the opportunity, practically launching himself at Zarak and grabbing his hands. "Zarak? What'd she say? Did you think of anything?" Wouldn't be much time until Okonwe answered the door. In fact, there she was, opening the door and going through all the pleasantries and greetings with Saru.

Wouldn't be long before she noticed.

ooc:  Horraaaay!  Back and Posting!  It's grand ^_^


ic:


It was all Zarak could do to keep a straight, interested, face as the man, Saru, rambled on and on!  It was evey worse than what he had done before!  It was all too much...there was so much humor in his earnesty and....he had never spoken with anyone so open to strangers!  Especially strangers who apparently had odd hair like himself....

"Hehe..." he chuckled lightly, "Yeah, m'hair is natural.  Bein' ona ship all day kinda makes m'ave ligh' hair."  He grinned sheepishly and opened his mouth to say more when Kiyan interrupted, returning Saru to the task that had brought him to Okonwe's cabin in the first place, "Yeah, I'll be 'ear don'ya worry.  An' congrats on th'kid"  He smiled brightly as Saru passed into the house.

Without delay Kiyan was by his side spouting off questions, his nerves clearly evident.  Jeez, this kid really did wear his emotions on his sleeves!  Even if Zarak was horrible at reading people he would have been able to tell exactly what Kiyan was thinking!  The poor guy....he really would be a horrible liar and that meant that Zarak had to play his part flawlessly....no one could think that he had taken a liking to Kiyan or everything would fall through....although...Okonwe would more than likely see through it...so after everything was taken care of he would probably send a letter or something...just so she wouldn't worry....and maybe she wouldn't send people after them....

doubtful....oh well....

"He seems like a nice guy." he replied after Kiyan stopped talking, a response that probably would make the poor kids hear sink to his toes....but it had to be done...when he finally would be able to take him away Kiyan would need to have every reason not to go....it had to be a truthful display or things would turn sour and then BOTH villages would be after them.

"Oh...wait....sorry..." he replied, pretending like he had just heard the boy, "Eh....she didn' say much..." he answered vaguely, leaning back on one of the posts of the porch, "Basic'ly what ye say and she say matched."  Short and sweet....no mention of figuring out how he'd escape....nothing....had to start now, no matter how hard it was....Hell...he'd had to betray closer before...

Even if it left an awful taste in his mouth.....

What?

Kiyan did wilt, releasing his hold on Zarak's hands and staring at the man. What? What he'd just asked had nothing to do with his brother! Wait...had he even been listening? But before Kiyan could open his mouth to repeat the question, Zarak seemed to have finally remembered and answered him.

Bluntly. And vaguely. And...disinterestedly.

If his heart had sank before, what Zarak said now actually stung. Well, not what he said, but how he said it. He sounded distant. Maybe...what...what had Okonwe told him? And had he believed it? Oh Gods...maybe he did. Because he was sure acting weird, now. Or...or maybe he was just sick. Maybe it was because he'd been so sick, and that was why he was acting funny now. He didn't feel good. Yeah. Maybe it was wrong of Kiyan to bug him about it now, since he wasn't feeling good. He'd just have to be patient. Just have to wait.

Shoulders slumping, he looked down at the steps, bowing his head a little to try and hide his disappointment, even though that wouldn't work, really. "Oh...okay. I'm sorry. I probably shouldn't bug you about that when you were just all sick..." he said quietly, shifting from one foot to the other. Yeah. He was just sick. It was Zarak, after all! He...he wouldn't just...turn around and not like him anymore, or believe Okonwe suddenly, would he? After all they'd talked about? He seemed so different! Kiyan really saw him as a friend and, if he knew him long enough, maybe even a brother. An older brother, a way older brother, but still.

Yet a nagging voice in the back of his head reminded him that he'd only known him for a day.

Anything could happen. And that scared him.

"So...um...do you need anything? If you need anything? If you need anything, I can get you something..." Let it just be in his head.

yep...the kid sure was a lousy liar.  He wore his emotions on his sleeves which only helped to increase Zarak's resolve.  If Kiyan believed he was going to be freed, everyone would know, and the plan would fail.  If it failed, both Kiyan and himself would be in terrible trouble with both tribes.  They would probably be punished severely...Kiyan for trying to run away from his punishment, again; and Zarak for trying to break the laws of their land and free the villian.

And....although he knew he was hurting the kid...it made him remember what and who he was.  This type of facade was normal for him!  How many villages had he tricked in order to free his fellow shipmates?  How many people had he conned to get what he wanted? This was absolutely no different.

Minus the fact that it was righteous.

In it's own way.

After all, it wasn't Kiyan's fault that his village was filled with a bunch of stuffed shirts with sticks up their asses.  Anyone who considered it nearly a captial punishment for consented sexual conduct needed a serious slap in the face.  After all, it was all the boys fault here...didn't they know that women were capable of seducing men just as much as men?  The only thing they had for them was to claim rape whenever they were going to get in trouble.

Zarak had never met this girl, but he already didn't like her.  If he didn't have to focus on Kiyan, he would have quite a bone to pick with her.  It's not like he'd do anything!!!  He'd just scare her a bit....let her know what it really feels like to be taken advantage of, and then maybe she'd change her attitude.

Ha!  that would be amusing.  And well worth the consequences.

But Kiyan's freedom first.  There was also the slight problem of having her recognize him and get them both into serious shit.

"Hmm?" he had been looking down at the skirt he had been given while his clothes were being washed.  He really wanted to put on his normal clothes....but it wouldn't help his plan to ask...

"Need som'thin'?" he asked again, the disinterested look still plastered on his features, "Nah...no' really.  Ye've already done anough."  ouch....that could be taken in many different ways and Kiyan might take it more towards what he had done to the girl.....and he seemed paranoid enough that that would be exactly what he would think.

"Um...d'ye know when we'll be gettin' on th'road?"  yup, and that just confirmed it.  He was playing his part well, and he just hoped that when all was said and done Kiyan would be able to forgive him.  But for now, hatred, and possibly fear would be the best way to save him.

Ouch. Again.

Maybe it really all was in his head, but...Kiyan still couldn't help but take a small step backwards in surprise. He hadn't known Zarak long, sure, but...he'd never been cold to him before. And now he just seemed blunt, dinsinterested. Like he didn't even care. He'd done enough already...yeah. That stung, and Kiyan felt like he could just...disappear right then and there. It was bad enough to have someone he trusted now turn against him, like it seemed was what was happening with Zarak--he believed the adults...he believed them. Of course. He was an adult himself. Of course he'd believe their word over his...who was he kidding?--but it was even worse to have someone he looked up to and admired suddenly show disdain toward him.

It was like...Kiyan knew he hadn't done anything wrong, but he still felt like he'd failed. Like it really was his fault.

"Oh...okay..." he answered quietly, trying not to choke. Maybe it really was all in his head. Maybe he was just insecure. He'd never had a stable family or friends, always been a black sheep. Maybe it was just his own insecurities acting up. Yeah. He had a lot of those. It was just in his nature to hide them and act like everything was okay, even when it wasn't. Maybe that was why he made bad choices...why he went with that girl. Damnit...!

Well...he wasn't going to press the issue. If it was in his head, it was in his head and would solve itself. If it wasn't...he really didn't know what he was going to do. He was no longer even really worried about the trip, about the other tribe. That was okay. He knew they hated him, he knew his tribe disliked him. That had nothing on this.

Offering a weak smile, he bowed briefly to Zarak. "I understand." Maybe he just needed rest. Alone time. Taking a deep breath, he turned to leave and hang Zarak's clothes up to dry when Zarak asked his next question.

Kiyan's back stiffened and he froze before turning slowly to look at Zarak. "We...we'll be going whenever you're well enough to travel...I guess..." he answered slowly, staring at Zarak. And the knife dig in just a bit deeper. Zarak was avoiding his questions about his plans. He was distancing himself. He was being short and blunt. Not at all like he was before they came here. He was...oh no.

Suddenly, the thought came to Kiyan about what Zarak was. He was...a pirate. He travelled a lot. And he was far from home. He didn't want to stay here. Why would he. He was just interested in going to that tribe because they had contact with the ships! He just wanted to leave. He had no interest in helping him. He'd probably been planning this all along, right when Kiyan told him about other tribes having contact with outsiders! That's what this was all about! So now he was distancing himself! He'd been lying to him...all this time...

Kiyan's eyes narrowed and, with a sudden jolt, he turned and literally threw Zarak's still wet clothes at him as forcefully as he could. "Why don't you go ask Okonwe, you bastard!" he snapped before turning and bolting off. Let him tell Okonwe he'd done that, too. He really didn't give a crap!

It wasn't like he could go far, or that he dared to go far. He was really only keen on going as far as the stream. Still, he just...needed to get away. Needed to be alone for a while. Not that it really mattered. He was alone now, anyway, wasn't he? Psha. He should be used to that.

But he also couldn't let the bastard see just how hurt he really was, couldn't let him see the tears that he stubbornly dashed away. He just...he couldn't believe it. He couldn't believe he'd let himself be so easily played...

He shouldn't have trusted him. Right from the start. Gods, he was so damned stupid.

He couldn't help the smile that pulled at the side of his lips.  It wasn't like he enjoyed hurting the boy's feelings, but it certainly did send a thrill down his spine thinking that he could read people almost as much as he could read the weather.  It was almost satisfying to know that he could befriend, or make enemies almost as simply as tossing a coin, or raising the pot in a bet.  It was thrilling...

because it was frightening.

Not to mention, this was his life!  He lived to deceive people!  Hell, he was already deceiving everyone in this village by telling them he was a trader!  Ha!  Of course they had no reason not to trust him, but along the same lines, they had no reason to trust him.  He was a stranger...

That was how he played Kiyan.  They had only known eachother for a short time and it was easy to break a trust so shortlived.  Kiyan didn't know Zarak, at least he didn't think he did now, or...he thought he finally understood him....which he didn't....ack it was confusing!  Zarak had been himself with the boy up until now, but he didn't know that!  Shit, he just showed it when he threw the clothes at his face!

Which he barely caught, not because he wasn't expecting it, but because he was still healing and his arms weren't as fast as they had been before the shipwreck.  They were still damp, but he wanted to wear them now...he wanted to get out of this damn skirt and back into manly clothes.  Of course, if he put on wet clothes the shawman would be on him in a heart beat, telling him he was stupid and that he was still healing and why the hell did he put on wet clothes.  Which meant that he would just have to wait.  Hopefully the sun that was promised today would dry them out fairly quick.

With a sigh he heaved himself to his feet and arranged his clothes on the porch front where the sun could hit them and then settled back down on the steps to enjoy the breeze.  After all, it wouldn't last long.  Okonwe was bound to know he was outside, especially with the way Kiyan's brother talked, and then he'd be hustled back inside where he'd have to convince her he was fit to travel and that he couldn't wait another day.

Of course, he knew that she wouldn't buy the cards he played...he had already been much too forward with her about how he felt about the kid...at least she would know that he was safe, when the rumors came from the other village.

Ah....helping kiyan escape would be the easy part...it would be convincing him of himself that would be tricky....trust was easily broken, and much too hard to rebuild.

The door swung open suddenly and Saru suddenly excited Okonwe's house, grinning and clutching a soft leather pouch. "Thanks, Okonwe! I'll keep ya updated, tell ya how Rissa's doing!" he called back cheerfully as he made his way down the steps, giving an odd glance to the clothes Zarak had arranged on the porch and stepping his way carefully around them. Even if he found them odd, though, he politely refrained from commenting. Besides, he was far too excited, now, and in a hurry to get the tea mixture back to his wife.

"Bye, Zarak! I'll see ya 'round, eh?" he said with a wave, then paused. "Oh yeah, Okonwe wanted to see ya." That said, he gave another wave before bounding off, anxious to be back home.

"...Indeed, I do," came Okonwe's voice from up the stairs, and soon she had poked her head out the door, one eyebrow raised as she gave Zarak a disapproving look. "What are you doing out there? I swear, men...I turn my back for a second..." She shook her head and stepped out onto the porch, hands on her hips, and fixed him with a level stare. "You were strong enough to get down there, so you march your bum back up here. You just got over pneumonia; you need your rest. What were you doing out here, anyway?"

Then her eyes landed on the clothes. Blinking, she tilted her head and glanced around the area briefly. "And where's the boy?"

Zarak didn't need to be looking at Saru to know the look he gave his drying clothes.  After all, Kiyan had pretty much done the same thing before.  Obviously they enjoyed wearing skirts or something...it was weird, this other side of the world.  Perhaps all men wore dresses?  

The thought made him chuckle softly to himself before waving after Kiyan's older brother as he hurried back to his tent...home....whatever they lived in....hell maybe they wore skirts and lived in giant boots.  That would be pretty interesting to see at least.

Watching Saru's frame disappear in the distance, he felt a twinge of guilt at the game he had started to play.  If his plan worked, the entire village wouldn't know if Kiyan lived or died...and he could only imagine the pain that would inflict upon his family.  After all, it looked as if Kiyan was loved by his brother, more than he might believe himself.  This punishment wasn't of their tribes choosing....and in fact he had been given a lesser sentence than having that girls betrothed run him through with a spear, like a gutted pig.

The tribe really cared about him....

He just hoped they didn't care about him enough to track them if they got away safely.  Although...they would only be angry with Zarak, not Kiyan, and he wouldn't ahve to go back to the other tribe....hopefully....not if everything went well.

"Huh?" he asked, realizing that Okonwe had directed a few questions and demands at him.  It just sunk in that Saru had told him he was wanted.  Oops.

"Oh...I know I 'as real'y sick." he told her, not moving from his spot on the stairs, "I'm feelin' better now, hones'.  It's like...." he paused, a sudden idea sinking in and he glanced skeptically up at her, "It's funny.....tha' of all th' places I've been...this's th'on'y place I've been tha' don' have magic."  it was enough for her to know what he suspected, if she had used magic after all, and vague enough that anyone listening wouldn't  see any connection.  Kiyan hadn't been very specific, but he didn't want to risk her getting into trouble if the tribe was vehemently against it!  She had saved his life!

Oiy....and that was the last question he wanted to answer.

Welps, no point in lying!  

"'e came back an' threw my clothes a' me afore runnin' off." He looked out over the porch, "Tha' way, I think." he pointed in the direction Kiyan had run.  It was the truth...just with the part that encouraged it cut out.

Half truths.  They were wonderful when you didn't want to be caught in a facade.

Okonwe was still fixing him with that disapproving look, one usually reserved by parents for misbehaving children, when Zarak spoke and her expression softened. For a moment she was quiet, but then she shook her head. "Well, I'm certainly no expert about the rest of the world, and unless you've been everywhere and met everyone, I daresay you aren't, either," she answered simply, dusting her hands off on her skirt absently. "But if that's so, then it must be strange indeed. I'm certain there are many other things about my people that are 'funny' to you, given this isn't your world. Correct?"

She smiled at him, though, and if she was aware of what he was implying, she didn't show it. She might have slipped and said too much, however.

What Zarak said next wiped the smile off her face and made her eyebrows climb high on her forehead. "He threw your clothes at--oh Gods." She sighed heavily and rubbed her temple. "I'm sorry, Zarak, I'll...I'll have a talk with him." Walking down the stairs, she stepped past Zarak, cupped her hands around her mouth, turned in the direction he's pointed, and filled her lungs with air. "KIYAN! YOU GET YOUR BUM BACK OVER HERE, NOW!" she shouted, and if the other villagers heard, so be it. They'd find out sooner or later that he was back.

It wasn't long before Kiyan came jogging back, face flushed and eyes red, and he slowed to a walk when as he came closer, shooting a scathing glare at Zarak when he saw he was there. He gave the man a wide berth and, aside from that one initial glare, he quickly averted his eyes and refused to look at him again, body tense. This didn't pass Okonwe's notice and she quickly seized him by the arm when he was close enough.

"You apologize to Zarak, now. Why are you acting like this, anyway? What's wrong with you?" When Kiyan just clenched his jaw and shook his head, refusing to answer, Okonwe sighed, grabbed his shoulders, and made him turn to face Zarak, deciding not to push the issue. She'd thought they were friends, but she could have been wrong. "Throwing his clothes at him...you're more mature than that. Now apologize."

Kiyan curled his hands into fists and stared at the ground, still refusing to make eye contact. "Sorry," he forced out through grit teeth, not at all sounding it.

Zarak smiled mildly as she skirted around his assumptions with the ease of a seasoned dancer.  He couldn't even read her face to see if he had touched a nerve.  Ah well, not everyone was easy to read, he knew that from experience.  He just hadn't expected to find it in this place.  Guess that goes to show what happens when you assume too much.  Kiyan may wear his heart out on his sleeves, but that's what got him in trouble in the first place.  He was playing a game that, poor kid, couldn't help but lose.

But sitting there, watching the kid's expressions almost made the pirate feel bad.  After all, for all Kiyan knew he had just betrayed his trust indefinitely.  Even after all of this was done, it would take a long while for the boy to trust his pirate friend again.  But who knew...he had been wrong about Okonwe, he could very well be mis-judging Kiyan as well.  Even if the kid did wear a skirt.  What a twisted world he had found himself in.

Heh.

"No worries" he countered Kiyan's biting apology, giving him his best smile in order to show that nothing at all had changed his opinion.  Damnit, he was going to be so vexed when this was all over!  "They're jus' clothes afte' all.  No harm done. I don' blame 'im."  Kiyan could take that whatever way he wanted.  It could be a direct jab at the fact that he was a criminal about to be shipped off to do penance, or it could simply be that Zarak understood that Kiyan felt betrayed by the one man whom he thought would be on his side.

He gave an inward sigh.  This was breaking the kid's spirits and he knew it.

[TIME JUMP TIEMZ! Jumping to some days later, when Zarak is better and the tribe is leaving. <3 Sorry for how rushed this is, but wanted to get things rollin' again! Hope this is enough to reply to; if not, I'll add moar. xD]

News spread quickly in small villages, and before long the news of Zarak's arrival and Kiyan's return was all over the place. Fortunately for Kiyan, most people were more interested in the foreigner than in old drama, and Okonwe spent a lot of time chasing curious villagers away so that Zarak could rest. Only when he was well enough to get around on his own without exhausting himself did Okonwe let him fend for himself, too, and deal with the crowds that amassed around him wherever he went, of locals and Coryii alike.

His curly, light hair and lighter skin drew a lot of notice, as they were all darker skinned with brown to jet black straight hair. It was mostly his curly hair, though, which braver children would touch when they thought he wasn't looking. His accent drew a lot of giggles, and his clothes drew lifted eyebrows, but despite those differences he was a welcome guest--they prided themselves on their hospitality--that they simply wanted to learn more about.

About him and where he'd come from.

Kiyan spent most of those days running errands for Okonwe and trying to make himself invisible, though his brother came to visit a few times, which he appreciated. Saru didn't treat him like an outcast. And despite the hurt and betrayal, he was glad Zarak was so popular. It meant less attention on him.

When Zarak was around, he simply tried not to talk to him. If Zarak spoke to him, he gave curt, concise answers, usually only a couple of words long. Whatever it took to answer, no more and no less. He didn't look at him. Just gave him the cold shoulder just like he'd done to him. Okonwe got on him for it, but he didn't care. He had never even asked for Zarak's help--the man had offered if of his own will--and then he had gone and stabbed him in the back. All that talk, all that advice...all lies. A pirate. He shouldn't have believed his stories about noble pirates...but he wouldn't snitch. He was better than that, way better than Zarak.

Finally, the dreaded date rolled around and it was time to leave. Okonwe and the other Elders had gotten the Coryii to agree to taking Zarak with them, though it hadn't taken much convincing on their part. They rather liked him.

It was a sunny, humid morning that found Kiyan dressed and outside, pacing back and forth and kicking at clumps of dirt as he waited outside Okonwe's hut for Okonwe and Zarak. He had woken up early when the sky was still dark, nervous energy and the clammy air making sleep a lost cause. The sun was still rising over the ocean, and he stole nervous glances toward, then sighed and slumped down on the steps leading up to Okonwe's door.

The Coryii were leaving at a little past sunrise, and that was when they were to meet up with them. From inside the hut he could hear Okonwe barking at Zarak to get up. Some part of him seriously considered running again and seeing just how far he could get, but he knew he would have just wasted needed energy. People were milling about outside and had been all night, finalizing trade with the Coryii, helping them pack their supplies...and what was the point, anyway? He'd be found eventually, or wander into dangerous territory...

And right now, he was just tired of running. Or just tired in general.

The days that passed by couldn't have gone any quicker for the pirate. He had become the shiny, new toy for these tribal people and found himself in the company of many each passing hour. By nature Zarak was an amiable guy, and he easily slipped in and out of conversations regarding his life prior to finding their deliquent runaway. Of course, this meant that a made-up history was a must and he found himself thinking on his feet constantly. Each sentence out of his mouth threatened contradiction, but he had years of practice under his belt. Even if he were to slip, it would be so minute that only someone practiced in finding lies would discover his charade.

Thus, Zarak the Pirate quickly became Zarakime Fal the merchant trader; Zarak for short of course. He had inherited his fathers businessman character and quickly learned where to find the best deals and how to sell them for the most possible. Honesty was the virtue of his family and was the reason that so many customers continued to trade happily with such a distinguished family, full of integrity. These stories, of course, were crafted to woo these people into believing every word from his mouth. If he was such a trustworthy trader, then of course he would continue those morals into his everyday life. Never in a million years would he be planning to do anything but travel with the caravan and find new trading partners with the neighboring tribe.

Zarak the trustworthy.

That was a laugh! Even he could appreciate the irony in the situation. After leaving the village, he was planning on making a deal with that other tribe...and not a deal with furs or fruit...a deal for Kiyan's life. He was good at these games, but was he good enough? Would the hatred they bore towards Kiyan be strong enough to lead them down his manipulative road?

The Coryii would know by now that they were escorting a distinguished trader...and of course they had not heard exactly what he was suppose to be trading...

Gods he hoped this would work. And that was a feat because he didn't even believe in Gods for which to pray...He had to rely on himself and his own design in order to get the kid out of this mess. Even if it was partially his fault (in his experience sex took two people) no one deserved to be sold just because the girl decided to claim "rape" to get out of a sticky situation. He disliked women who lied to save their own skin, and Kiyan was too innocent to have lied about his story. The poor kid wouldn't be able to lie if his life depended on it.

After this...Kiyan would be able to escape this life without having people chase after him...

"I'm up, I'm up..." He growled at Okonwe as she shouted at him, rolling out of the small cot he had been given for his time here. He slipped his shirt over his head and pulled his knee-high boots onto his feet. A few days was not nearly enough time for him to don the man-skirts these people insisted on wearing. That would be the first thing to go after getting Kiyan out. He'd get some pants and shirts for him and he'd be damned if he complained!

Running his hand through his curly hair, he tied it tightly back at the nape of his neck before looking around for Okonwe. After word got back to her that Kiyan had been "sold" to Zarak the "slaver" he was certain that she would hunt him down, come hell or high water. Despite he connection to the village, Zarak could tell that she cared about the boy a lot. He couldn't tell her his plans...she would feel obligated to turn him in...but he could alleviate her fears...

"Before we go..." he put his hand on her shoulder to grab her attention, "I jus' need ya t'know that whatev'r happens, I'll keep an eye on Kiyan. I'll keep 'im safe." He made sure that while he said this he looked directly down into her eyes to show her his sincerity and honesty. There could be no doubt in her mind, with his cool piercing gaze, that he could be lying. Without waiting for a reply, his serious expression was replaced by the carefree smile he was so use to wearing these past few days.

"Let's go then, mmm?" With a small wink in her direction, he turned towards the door and walked out into the dull gray of the early sunrise. Stretching his hands above his head, Zarak breathed in the fresh morning air before sighting Kiyan out of the corner of his eye.

"Ready for an adventure?" he asked him with a smile. The best option now was to get Kiyan as mad at him as possible. Kiyan needed to hate him if he was going to pull this off. It needed to be convincing....and right now...being cheerful in lieu of Kiyan's disgrace would definitely be salt in an already gushing wound...

Okonwe was bustling around the hut cleaning, more to distract herself than anything when a hand on her shoulder made her stop and spin around. Zarak. She met his eyes as he spoke to her and she believed him, saw the honesty there and felt like a great burden had been lifted. For all her hard talk, that was really all it was--tough love, though she doubted Kiyan had ever noticed and doubted he ever would. That didn't matter, though. She had been worried about him and now she felt better knowing that he would have a guardian.

She watched him go, face softening with a smile, and shook her head. He cared for Kiyan and for that she was thankful. She quickly went about finishing what she was doing and then headed to the door to join them outside. She would be the one leading the way.

Outside, Kiyan heard someone come outside and his shoulders jerked convulsively when he looked over and saw that it was Zarak. With a glower, he hitched them up and took a calming breath, turning his back to the man. Give him the cold shoulder, the silent treatment. He had nothing to say to him and he didn't think he could stomach looking at him. Ignore him, ignore him, ignore him. Stay cold. He still couldn't help but give Zarak a quick backward glance--and he could have hit the man when he saw how cheerfully he was smiling.

Traitor.

He might have been able to ignore Zarak. Might have been able to shut him out dnd pretend he wasn't there. But then Zarak had to go and open his mouth, and all the pent up rage and hurt and betrayal came pouring out like water from a failed dam.

"Adventure?!" Kiyan shot back, whirling on Zarak with his hands clenched into fists. Right then, at that moment, he wanted nothing more than to punch Zarak square in the jaw and knock that smile right off his face. What did he have to lose? He was a disgrace, his life was over and the one person he thought would help him--whose life he had saved--had turned out to be a liar. He had nothing to lose! It couldn't possibly get any worse. But at least this might make him feel a little better! "Adventure?! You dung-licking bastard! I trusted you!"

"Kiyan!" Okonwe yelled, rushing down the steps, but the boy ignored her.

And then he did it, swung his fist as hard as he could at Zarak's nose.

Zarak allowed his perfectly crafted smile to falter when Kiyan began yelling. He had touched the nerve he was hoping for and wished that he felt worse about it. Instead, he realized that yes, he did still have it even after getting thrown overboard and nearly drowned in the ocean's suffocating embrace. Kiyan had saved his life and Zarak did wish that he could tell the kid that everything was going to be ok and it was all part of the plan.

At this point he probably wouldn't believe him, and he was a terrible liar. Standing here watching the boy lose the temper that he, obviously, told himself to keep in check helped Zarak feel less terrible about deceiving him. He just hoped that, maybe, he'd be able to convince him when all was said and done that he was not as evil as he led him to believe.

That would be an interesting conversation.

And something he'd focus on dealing with after all of this went down. First thing was first, they needed to leave this village and start the journey to the next. After they were away, he'd be able to play his hand. Now it all depended on how much these folks really hated Kiyan... and if they were stuck on tradition.

Which would mean he'd have to pull out all of his charms and convince them they they could say he turned on them and fought away with Kiyan. However, that would also mean they would feel obligated to chase after him and what a poor use of resources just to get rid of the hooligan.

Damn...he just hoped that it worked.

Then Kiyan's fist exploded from his side and his smile really did falter, and not on choice. For a split second he went to dodge the blow and decided better of it. This would be another argument he could use against the neighboring tribe. Instead of dodging, he leaded into the punch giving it more umph than it would have it he had just stood still.

CRACK

The precise moment he turned his head to the right, Kiyan's hand made contact to the side of his nose and he felt the bone snap. He might be smaller than Zarak, but his punch (even without help) was a fairly powerful blow. He had not expected that from him, and the tears that clouded his vision from the broken nose had definitely not been factored into the equation. If Zarak had thought the blow would have been strong enough to break his nose, he would have just stood still and let it hit him...his leaning into it gave just the right amount of force.

Well, he hoped that was enough to make Kiyan feel better.

Blood gushed from his nose and he used his hands to try and quench the flow, too dazed at the moment to find cloth or something other than his fingers which were doing a pretty terrible job.

Okonwe's cries reached his ears and he anticipated her anger, trying to wave it off with a sweep of his hand.

"'sok" he told her, voice nasally and blood was seeping into the corners of his mouth as he spoke. "He can be man, s'ok by me. Jus'...." wincing, he felt around the bridge of his nose and then snapped it back in place with a gasp. No matter how many times he'd broken it, Zarak was sure that broken noses were quite possible the worst broken bone. He blinked vigorously, his entire face stinging with the setting of the bone.

"Can I have...uh...a towel or somethin'?" his entire face was covered in his own blood, "I don' wanna hold up the caravan, I'll be ok, promise ya. I've had worse fo'sure."

God he was good at pissing the kid off, wasn't he? If he ever thought for a second that Zarak's broken nose would slow down his decent, Zarak's last words would dash any of that.

Kiyan didn't know what he expected when he threw that punch, but part of him had not expected it to actually connect, to feel bone snap. He raised his fist again, ready for another strike, but then froze on the spot when he actually saw the damage.

Zarak just standing there, blood seeping between his fingers and dripping to the ground, smearing his face...

The anger drained out of him as quickly as it had set in and he couldn't look away, eyes wide and locked on Zarak's face. He could hear him talking, hear Okonwe yelling something, but it was like it was coming to him from a great distance. Drip, drip, red droplets sank into the soil beneath their feet. That looked like a lot of blood. Kiyan had injured himself before, little scraps and cuts and such, but he had never seen blood gush from a wound like that and...and...he had done that. He stared, transfixed with horror, as Zarak felt around his bloody nose and then gave it a jerk.

The color drained from Kiyan's face and he had to turn away and slap a hand over his mouth, swallowing hard when he felt his throat convulse. Made a lovely retching sound effect as a result, too. That was a lot of blood...

"That is not okay!" Okonwe snapped, hurrying back up the steps and into her home so she could grab a towel. She returned seconds later and swatted Zarak's hands away so she could gently press the towel to his face. "That you've had worse is not the point! Kiyan, you fool, are you trying to make things worse for yourself? I've heard of self sabotage before but--" She cut off with a frustrated groan and handed the towel off to Zarak so she could march on over to Kiyan, take him by the shoulders, and give him a firm shake. "I can't believe you. Apologize!"

"No."

"What do you mean, no?"

Kiyan kept his eyes down and shrugged out of her grip. "I'm not sorry."

He shot a hard glare Zarak's way, a look that clearly said, You deserved that and I don't regret a thing. For all that the sight of blood startled him, for all that he still couldn't look at him for very long right now, gods if that hadn't felt amazing.

He turned his back to them both and started to walk, stiffly. "Let's just go meet the Coryii already."

Oh, Zarak could not have even planned Kiyan's reaction better! Nothing in his wildest dreams could keep the grin from twitching at the edge of his mouth before he had the good sense to stifle it. Thankfully, just about that time Okonwe came dashing back with a towel which she pressed to his face.

That made him wince as she hit a little bit harder than she intended. Not that he was surprised, most of her attention had been turned towards the delinquent boy who had caused such a horrible injury.

Zarak took the towel from her hands and continued to quench the blood flowing from his nose. He knew from experience that his face would look quite the mess after the bleeding stopped. He wouldn't be able to get all of the blood off for one, it would hurt waaaay too much for any type of thorough cleaning for at least a few days. That, coupled with some pretty intensive bruising and swelling that accompanied a break like this. It would throb for a good while too.

He knew that he wouldn't be so excited about Kiyan's little aggressive moment that night, if all things planned out, of course.

"Nah, it's really ok." he tried to assure Okonwe, and hoping also to unnerve Kiyan even more. Maybe he was stupid to keep pushing him so far, after all the kid already hated him! There wasn't much more he could do to escalate that animosity!

"Let him be, it's really ok." he added again as the boy stalked off after refusing to make an apology. Zarak took the towel away and dabbed it tentatively, looking down to see if the blood was still gushing. It looked like it was abating and was just spotting a bit on the towel. He wasn't ready to give it back to Okonwe, especially if the stupid thing decided it wasn't finished in a few minutes.

Not that it mattered, really, he had other things to worry about.

As Kiyan stormed off, Zarak took one last time to look at Okonwe. He wasn't sure how seriously she would take him, but he needed her to know...needed to reiterate....

"I wanna thank ya for you're help." he told her, lowering the now bloody towel which he still clutched in his hand. "And really...no matter what ya hear...Kiyan will be safe. I promise ya." Without another word he turned and followed Kiyan towards where the Coryii were waiting to accompany them from this village and to the next. He had never seen these folk before and was curious if they had similar customs.

It didn't even faze him! He broke his nose and it didn't even faze him! Zarak wasn't supposed to say it was okay, he was supposed to agree with Okonwe, get angry at him like everyone else had, something. But instead Zarak, damned back-stabbing liar Zarak, came out looking all good and calm and nice--which Kiyan knew was complete and utter monkey dung.

With a loud groan, Kiyan just kept on walking and didn't look back, though his rigid posture and clenched fists clearly gave away all that he was feeling. He knew it was stupid; he shouldn't be wasting any emotion on Zarak because he didn't even deserve his anger. But he still couldn't believe it. He could have let Zarak die in more than one instance! Granted, even if he knew the guy was going to betray him he wouldn't have done any differently, but...

Damn it.

Just proved he couldn't trust anyone.

"I know, Zarak..." Okonwe answered quietly, sighing and rubbing her temples. She looked over at him and gave the barest of smiles, her mind preoccupied and eyes lined and tired. No matter what she said to Kiyan at this point, she knew it didn't matter. Soon he would be among the Coryii, and at this point he and his fate were completely out of her hands. It would do no good to reprimand him anymore; there was no point, and he was clearly too angry to listen, anyway. "I know. Thank you for that, for everything."

She believed him. She didn't know him, but he felt different. Anyone else would have walloped that boy for punching them, but Zarak had an unusual kind of patience. She supposed that's what Kiyan needed--or what anyone else needed to deal with him.

That was where she had fallen short.

"I'll accompany you to to where they're waiting, but Kiyan has been banished so I'll need to just say my goodbyes now. Have a safe journey, Zarak."

Okonwe walked most of the way there with them, to where the Coryii were waiting at the edge of the village. Most of them had already started off to get a head start, but a small group of five men, most of them Zarak's age save one that was going gray-haired, were waiting behind to receive Kiyan and his companion. A couple men were holding the reins of two strange pack animals that looked like a rough cross between so a deer and a horse; their hooves were cloven, their tails long and tufted, and both had an impressive set of antlers growing from their head. Their fur was a red-orange with black rosette-like spots that extended even into the long mane, but when they snuffled at their owners' hair, like a horse would, there was a flash of sharp teeth.

The animals were currently loaded down supplies.

Once the men noticed Zarak and Kiyan, Okonwe turned and left without a word, and Kiyan felt his heart beat faster and his stomach clench. He was mad at her, yes, but...he had lived with her for as far back as he could remember, and...

Some of the situation he was in was finally starting to sink in.

"About time. You're late," the older man said, leaving the group to walk and meet them halfway. Unlike Kiyan, these men did wear animal-skin breeches and whereas Kiyan's people decorated themselves with piercings and scarification and jewelery, it looked like the Coryii were more interested in tattooing. They shared Kiyan's dark complexion and hair, though they beaded theirs. Fishermen they might be, but the Coryii's tribe was much larger and influential and many of them made their villages inside the jungle, too. They were hunters whereas Kiyan's people kept to the shore.

They had split off from the Coryii ages ago and still hadn't gotten their numbers up.

"And who're you?" That was said with a look Zarak's way.

Zarak walked in silence, running over the plan again and again in his mind. He needed everything to work perfectly or they would both be in trouble. Well...they'd be in trouble when Zarak sneaked into the village and took Kiyan away in the night. That would mean that the kid could never return there, even years in the future and that was not exactly the future he wanted for him. He wanted to leave open the possibility of Kiyan returning sometime in the future to people who would have heard of his horrible fate (after all, being sold to a slaver would pretty much ruin your day) and then accept him with open, apologetic arms. It was an option for the boy whenever he was old enough to prove himself to them. After getting away long enough to see things differently.

After all, they were his family and Zarak did not want to break them apart. Maybe it was a silly wish for a guy who had been a pirate for the majority of his life...but after everything....he couldn't...just, couldn't break apart the brothers. Even Okonwe had a place in Kiyan's family. Maybe he couldn't see it yet, but some day he would miss them. Some day, when he was a grown man in pants, he would want to see them. This dream had been destroyed for Zarak and he would not be responsible for destroying Kiyan's past.

For a moment, dark images flashed across his mind and the cries of his mother as she tried to protect her son before blades flashed and blood spilled onto the wood floor of the ship. The son had watched and waited with a mop handle clutched in his shaking fingers, brandishing it towards the murderers who had killed his future...

Blinking, Zarak forced himself back to the present and suppressed the dark memories that still tried to consume him. He could not afford to be distracted, not now, not so close to the execution of his plan.

The journey to the Coryii was over before he could rightly regather his thoughts. With a deep breath, he rested a reassuring hand on Okonwe's shoulder, giving it a light squeeze before she disappeared and he stepped forward to join Kiyan. The Coryii were anything but what he expected, and at the same time he was not surprised. Their tattoos and beaded hair was different from Kiyan's people, but it was simply their way of decoration. Kiyan wore a necklace of shells, these men painted their skin and wound things in their hair. Of course, Zarak himself could appreciate that type of decor for he himself had tied a seagull's feather in a lock of his curly hair, and a banded tattoo encircled his upper arm. Of course, these were nothing compared to the Coryii, but it was at least something he could understand. The one thing on his person that seemed slightly out of place was the silver pendant that was wound on a piece of leather cord around his neck.

It was a representation of his past, and he refused to talk about it with anyone. When he finally came to his senses after the shipwreck, he had breathed a sigh of relief when he had felt it securely around his neck despite the trauma he had experienced.

That aside, he was surprised by the strange beasts that the Coryii commanded. Their fur itself was enough to draw the eye if not their strange apparent mix of creature...and then the teeth that showed every once in a while made him wonder just what kind of creature these were...perhaps it would be a good starting point for their journey. If he were to continue his trader facade, he would certain be interested in these fascinating new creatures. He filtered through appropriate questions: how much can these creatures pull? Where can they be found? Are they for sale? Could he catch one himself to take back to the main cities?

Of course, he would have to tread lightly...the last thing he wanted to do was frighten them or something. Who knew what men in skirts would think?

"Zarak." he replied to the question with a smile as he continued to wipe the excess blood from his face. He was sure that he looked a proper mess and hoped that it would aid his endeavors rather than hinder them. "I'm the trader that's suppose t'accompany ya to yer village then be on my way." with a chuckle he gestured to his nose and continued, "Sorry 'bout this. The boy has a mean streak in 'im."

Now was the point where he had either made a grave mistake, or had given them another reason to want Kiyan out of their sight. He just hoped it was the latter. The less they wanted him, the more they thought he would cause problems, the easier it would be to convince them to let him go. Gods, Goddess, God, anything that was listening, he asked the universe itself to help him.

"I'll try t'stay out of yer way on the trip." he added, "But let me know if I can help ya at all."

The older man raised his eyebrows and leaned in a little closer to get a better look at Zarak, finally realizing that that was blood covering his face; it had been tricky to see in the dawn light. Recoiling, he flashed a look at Kiyan, who only straightened up and met the man's gaze defiantly. Yeah, he'd punched Zarak. Kiyan wasn't going to deny that he did. No point denying it and, besides, Kiyan firmly believed that Zarak deserved it and he sure wasn't going to apologize for that; he wasn't going to apologize to a man who had lied to him and betrayed him as thanks for saving his life.

But because he also wasn't going to stoop to Zarak's level and because he was going to take the higher ground, he wouldn't tell these people the truth about his pirate 'friend'.

...Partially because if the truth came out, who knew what would happen to Zarak? He might be killed. Kiyan might hate the man now, but part him also still clung to the kindness he'd shown him--hah, what a joke--and he didn't want anymore blood on his hands than that which he'd gotten when he'd broken his nose. He didn't think he could live with himself, knowing something he'd said had put a person to death.

But then Zarak spoke and Kiyan started to regret that decision, body going stiff as a board.

"What? You filthy liar! I saved your life!" Kiyan yelled, those words piercing him like a knife in the back and giving it a swift, sharp twist for good measure. Mean steak?! How could he?! His hands curled into fists and without thinking he lunged for Zarak, but a strong pair of hands caught him by the arms and yanked him backwards, pinning his arms behind his back even as he thrashed. "I never did anything to you! I saved you, Zarak, and you lied! Why're you doing this?"

Oh, great, now he was crying. How manly. Shame washed over him but he couldn't seem to stop it, even though up until this point he'd managed to do a good job of shedding tears only in private. But with his arms pinned and no physical way to take out the rage and hurt of pure and utter betrayal, of losing everything, that seemed the only other outlet he had. His shoulders shook with sobs and he looked away and closed his eyes, embarrassed, and heard the man holding him chuckle and mutter something about crocodile tears.

"Mean streak, huh?" the older man said, giving Kiyan a once over and crossing his arms. Right now he didn't look mean, he just looked like some defeated and pathetic kid, but judging by his actions he would have attacked the trader if they hadn't been quick to grab him--and from the looks of it, he'd done it once before. That certainly lined up with everything they'd heard about the delinquent.

He shook his head and let out a long suffering sigh, looking back to Zarak. "Since you two are already acquainted, you can help keep watch over him, make sure he doesn't run." Clearly, he was less than thrilled about taking the kid back with them. It was custom--he had wronged their tribe, so they would take him back as their prisoner where they could keep him in their sight, punish him, and ensure it never happened again--but he was still a burden. "And if you can hunt, you can assist along the way."

The caravan was moving now, and the man started to walk, motioning for Zarak to follow. Kiyan stumbled along as the man holding him shoved him forward, and threw one last look over at Zarak.

Why? That was all he wanted to know...

Zarak smiled pleasantly at the tribesman and nodded his assent.

"Of course! I'd be more than happy t'keep an eye on him." He shook his head and swept his gaze over Kiyan critically before turning back to the other men. "Ya know...you all are good people wantin' t'honor yer agreement...if it was me, I'd get rid of him first thing....can't bring ya nothin' but trouble."

Again, he had either just laid the seed, or had made a terrible mistake. The worse he could make Kiyan appear...the more trouble he would be to the tribe, the angrier he became, Zarak hoped that it would make these men want to get rid of him that much faster. He wouldn't play his hand until the evening, alone with the leader of this other tribe. It wouldn't do to declare it to everyone in case they decided Zarak was the threat, not the boy....

No...he would have to play his hands carefully....so carefully....

"And o'course I'll help ya hunt! Although, I don' have any o'my weapons. They were lost in the storm."

That said, Zarak took is place by Kiyan as the caravan began moving and looked over at the boy with a grin. Time to bury the knife even deeper.

"Looks like it's gonna be a fun trip, eh?" He even nudged Kiyan in the side like he would to a close friend sharing in a joke. He just hoped that Kiyan took the bait. Zarak wanted him to pop....to explode....to be a loose cannon. Of course, it would be really hard to convince the kid that it was all part of the plan to get him out afterwards...but it had to look real. Really, really real.

Please, do something stupid.

Kiyan tolerated it as best as he could. He really did try, tried to block out the words, each one like a spear through his skin, tried to ignore it, tried to let it roll off him like water off palm leaves.

For two minutes, it almost worked.

Then Zarak came over, all friendly-like, and nudged him as though letting him in on some silly joke, like he hadn't just been spreading lies about him, like he hadn't just turned around and betrayed him--and like Kiyan was too stupid to realize it.

That was all it took for Kiyan to lose it completely.

"LEAVE ME ALONE!" Kiyan yelled, as loud as he could, and threw his arm out to clock Zarak in the face yet again before following it up with a hard shove to get the bastard away from him. He didn't care who saw or who heard. Let them all bear witness! "I HATE YOU! You're a liar, a double-headed snake! I can't believe I ever trusted you! I SHOULD HAVE LET YOU DIE!"

Ouch.

He hadn't exactly counted on the kid wacking him in the face again. Now, the nose that had been broken earlier smashed again against his face and the blood he had just barely been able to staunch now flowed freely. His upper lip was dyed crimson, his neck and shirt quickly becoming soaked. The cloth he was using before no longer offered any aid in stopping it.

Awesome.

Well, he really couldn't have asked for a better outburst, but ow! Tears streamed down his face, as was quite common with broken noses. He didn't understand how he could break his leg and just wince but damnit when it came to broke noses....

While he struggled with his own injury, Zarak could hear the commotion Kiyan's actions had caused even if his blurred eyes made it impossible to see exactly what. What he did know, though, was someone was leading him somewhere. The soaked cloth he was using was ripped from his hands and replaced with another. There was dark murmuring around him and he blinked away tears to try and make out exactly what was going on. Kiyan was nowhere to be seen, but he was sure, considering the size of the caravan, he wasn't far. But chances were he was being tied up or restrained or something.

Right now, the older man was crouching before Zarak and held the towel to his face; tut tutting. His wizened eyes looked worried.

Perfect.

"He's got quite th'temper." commented Zarak, wincing at the pain talking brought to his face.

"Indeed." the older man grunted. "He will only bring trouble."

If he could have, Zarak would have nodded, but his current situation didn't exactly allow that much movement. The man held the cloth to his face firmly and any type of movement would just further the bleeding, which didn't feel like it was going to stop anytime soon.

"Have ya thought abou' just....lettin' him go?"

The man's eyes narrowed and his lips thinned, "That is not an option. He dishonored us and must be punished for it."

"What abou'....ya know....if he was to go t'somethin' worse than yer tribe."

He frowned but said nothing. Zarak needed to tread carefully....so carefully. This elder looked as if he wanted nothing more than to get Kiyan off of his hands, but honor and tradition wouldn't allow it....not just to let him go....

"I can take 'im." Zarak met the man's eyes levelly. "He would be off o'yer hands an--"

"We will talk tonight." He pressed the towel into Zarak's hands and walked away.

The seed had been sown. Now he just needed to wait out the day.

Kiyan had cranked his arm back and was about ready to punch Zarak again, but a hand grabbed his wrist then and wrenched it behind his back until he cried out in pain, and it didn't stop until he finally stopped struggling. Still he glared death at Zarak, chest heaving and hands balled into fists that he wished he could use on the man. No more tears. He was long past the hurt and now just angry.

"They weren't joking when they said he was mean," the man that intercepted Kiyan, a young hunter, muttered. He tugged Kiyan backwards and he gave a yelp, grimacing and squirming; a little more pressure and it would pop his shoulder right out.

"He's the mean one! He's a lying bastard!" Kiyan gasped. "He's a backstabber! He'll use you and--nngh!" Another tug on his arm shut him up and made him go still and pale. The man holding him shot Zarak an apologetic look, though Zarak probably couldn't see it--he looked wrapped up in conversation at the moment--then let go of Kiyan's arm so he could shove him along toward the front of the caravan, where he could be under the watchful eye of the sterner huntsmen--or be tossed in with the rest of the cargo if he didn't behave.

Kiyan twisted around to get in one last look at Zarak, and his eyes reflected pure hate.

He should have never helped him. Should have never trusted him.

[ooc: should we time skip? x3]

(Skipping forward a couple hours! I am a time lord! And....maybe been watching too much Doctor Who lately.... >_>)


Zarak laid on the ground with the blanket the traders had provided him and watched the moon slowly rise in the sky, unable to sleep. His meeting with the tribesmen had been split and the decision had been anything but unanimous. These were definitely an honorable bunch of people and could not overlook what was "right" in lieu of Kiyan's volatile and hostile attitude.

The pirate knew what he needed to do, but the truth of the matter was if it came down to a chase, they would lose. Kiyan was sure to struggle, which would draw attention, which would slow them down and get them caught. Even if Kiyan, although unlikely, was more glad to get away from his "duty" and they made good time, the tribesmen knew these woods better than either of them, he was sure. Zarak needed allies, he needed someone on the inside to help him, but the decision had been made. He had fought valiantly but without a majority they would not allow him to take their prisoner from his fate.

"He has done nothing to warrant death." one man said from the sidelines, "Our laws and traditions are just and do not involve slavery or outsiders."

"But you ARE enslaving him." Zarak protested as nods of agreement followed the tribesman's words. He knew he was losing them and there was nothing he could do. "Not in the same manner, but it is no different than what I propose. You've seen how he reacts. What else needs to happen before he picks up a knife and does something that does warrant death?"

Zarak had been convinced he had them then...but things went downhill and he was escorted from the tent and informed that the moment they arrived at their town, he was to take his things and leave.

At a loss, he ran his hand over his face from the ground he had been allotted to sleep.

"It's all gone to shit..." he muttered, running scenarios over and over again in his head. He hadn't been lying when he spoke to the tribesmen. Left to his own devices, Kiyan could easily slip over the line and do something stupid that would get himself killed.

Unintentionally he dozed; plans weaving a web of bizarre dreams before he was jolted awake.

Instinctively, Zarak hand clasped around the knife by his side as he assess the danger around him. A face loomed above him, a hand shaking his shoulder to wake him from his slumber.

"Trader Zarak." the man whispered, "Take him."

Zarak blinked, confused, "Eh?"

"The boy. It is my guard and I want you to take him as far from here as you can."

"Kiyan?" He was still waking and it made him stupid, "But why?" Your folk decided for tradition."

"The girl he violated is my cousin."

"Ah...." Zarak understood, and was not about to question this man lest he change his mind. Quickly, he stood, re-sheathed his knife and rolled his sleeping blanket into a tight bundle which he tied nimbly onto his back.

"I will tell everyone in the morning and you will not be followed." The man turned on heel and stalked off into the camp, leaving Zarak to do what he needed to get Kiyan safely away.

Bedroll securely tied, Zarak made his way toward the edge of camp where Kiyan was kept for the night. This would be the tricky part. If Kiyan woke and cried out, all would be lost. He needed to make sure Kiyan stayed quiet without hindering his movements.

Finally, he reached Kiyan.

Hesitating only for a moment, Zarak leaned down and pressed his hand firmly around Kiyan's mouth before shaking the boy awake. He hoped the darkness masked his identity and that he could alter his voice enough to sound like one of the other men.

"Wake up." he growled, mimicking their accent, "You've been summoned."

(Note also that I've given up the accent xD)

It took several hours, but eventually Kiyan managed to drift off into a restless, dreamless sleep.

He was jolted awake by a hand over his mouth and another shaking his shoulder and, heart leaping into his throat, he gave a cry that was thankfully muffled. His first instinct was to struggle, but then the man spoke and he went still, though he was still tense and stiff and his heart thundered in his ears. Eyes wide and thoroughly disoriented, he stared up at the man but couldn't make him out in the darkness, his vision far from adjusted and mind still hazy from sleep.

Summoned...? For what? Now?

It was several more confused moments before Kiyan gave a slow nod to show that he'd understood.

Zarak nodded back, assuming that Kiyan could at least see his silhouette, before pulling the boy roughly to his feet. The moon was high enough in the sky to make the pirate visible outside of the shadows, so he made sure to keep Kiyan in front of him with a hand firmly clamped on his shoulder to steer him toward the woods.

"No talking." he growled, just to keep Kiyan quiet. The last thing he needed was Kiyan to raise the alarm before they were far enough away.

His stomach was in knots as the trees closed in around them. The tribesman had said that they wouldn't be followed, but how could he be sure that was true? Sure, they were split on the decision to allow Kiyan to be sold as a slave, but that was only because many of them knew or were related to the girl Kiyan had "ruined." Zarak knew that there would be dissension in the ranks, having seen people fight over moral decisions hundreds of times on his ship. When faced with the "right" versus the "easy" decision, peoples' true nature came out...but in his mind, getting rid of Kiyan had been the easy decision and they had chosen the "moral" one. Which meant....would they just let him go?

Zarak fingered the knife he had tucked in his belt absently. He could fight, sure, but not nearly well enough to defeat dozens of men in terrain that he was unfamiliar with, with a kid who would gladly go back with the people who truly planned to enslave him.

What had he gotten himself into? What was he bloody thinking? There was no way this was going to work.

The camp had been out of view for nearly a half an hour before Zarak felt they were far enough away to reveal himself. He was sure that Kiyan was terrified out of his mind, thinking he was going to be offed or something. Not that Zarak could blame him....it was the middle of the night, he was being led into the heart of the forest away from camp and everything he had ever known.

Zarak steered Kiyan up against against one of the large tropical trees and turned him around so he could see him for the first time.

"Kiyan, listen to me." He no longer changed his voice, letting Kiyan know who it was that had hold of him. He also tightened his grip expecting Kiyan to bolt the moment his rouse was revealed. "I know you're angry. I needed you to be angry in order to get you away without raising suspicion."

He watched Kiyan's face intently, waiting for the onslaught of curses and flailing.

Kiyan had been nervous at first. Only nervous, mind racing and wondering over what he could possibly be summoned for in the dead of the night. Someone needed to talk to him? About what? What were--

...Wait, they were heading away from camp.

And into the woods.

That was the point when nervousness turned into real fear.

Someone who didn't want him to know their identity was leading him far away from the camp, to a place where no one would hear him, had made it very clear they didn't want him to give them away...his imagination took off from there, but he didn't want to think it, didn't want to think it even possible, but there were no other reasons he could come up with as to why. Kiyan's mouth went dry and he felt his hands start to shake and he tripped more than he should have when he was normally surefooted. They wouldn't do that. They couldn't. This tribe was a lot of things, but they didn't...they didn't kill people. They weren't murderers. They didn't like him and he knew that, but they wouldn't kill him...

But more time passed and they only went deeper and deeper into the woods, far away from camp now, and Kiyan found himself on the edge of panic. He wanted to talk to the man, ask him what was happening--but stopped when he imagined him with a knife at his back. Maybe he should run. Just try. The man had a good grip on his shoulder but he could probably break it and--and then what? Run as long as he could in territory he'd never been in? It was better than the alternative. He could put up a fight, too. He wasn't very good but he'd try. The man seemed large, taller than him and strong from what he could tell, but he had to try.

His throat was tight and he was having a little trouble breathing, trying to work himself up to this while his mind went wild and wondered what it would feel like to be stabbed, to have your throat opened like an animal's.

He was tense and readying himself to bolt when the man suddenly steered him up against a tree and turned him so he could face him, and he felt his grip tighten on him. That was when the panic crashed over him, because this was it, he was gonna die--and right when it counted the most, he felt his body seize up with terror, muscles locking as he froze in place. The words that spilled out weren't very macho, but a gasped, "Wait!"

And that was when the words and voice sank in, and Kiyan jerked his eyes up to the man's face--and noticed the too-pale hair.

"Zarak?"

For a few seconds he just stared, panting slightly, his mind struggling to make sense of everything. But then anger slowly crept in to replace terror and he jerked against Zarak's grip, glaring death at the man.

"You bastard! Let go! This isn't funny!"

"No." Zarak told Kiyan calmly, tightening his hold, "And you'd best stop squirming or I will have to knock you out now shut up and listen. I'm not gonna apologize for how I've treated you cause you're a damn terrible actor and none of this would have worked if you had know."

He paused to watch Kiyan's reaction, trying to make him understand just what was at stake.

"Your people think that I'm a slave trader from the Eastern Kingdoms and that I'm going to sell you to the highest bidder when we reach the city. If we keep walking East we're bound to hit something, some civilization, who will hopefully help us reach Adela, or Serendipity, or gods forbid Connlaoth, but we will be away and I can find a ship for us both. Hell, I could captain one myself if I had the coin and support."

And how glorious that day would be....Captain Zarak...

"Your people were split when I told them my plan. Many saw your actions toward me as more than hostile and feared what you might do once living there, married to some old crone. They turned me down, insistent upon tradition and other bloody stupid nonsense. You're lucky that enough of them are related to or know the girl you've 'ruined' and your guard woke me. I was told we won't be followed, but I'm not about to take their word for it seeing as tradition overrules sense to most of those people."

He took a deep breath.

"Now, you're going to come quietly with me because I didn't go through all of this trouble just for you to run back with your tail between your legs. As long as you're with me, you're free of tradition, you're free of your 'crime.' You took care of me, now it's my turn to return the favor. So. Will you come with me or do I have to hit you over the head and drag you through the jungle?"

Kiyan froze at those words though his glare didn't subside--even if a troubled look had bled into the anger. And it only increased with each word the pirate spoke. So...Zarak was telling him that it had all been fake? All those terrible things he'd said, the cold and dismissive and mocking way he'd treated him? It was all just an act? Kiyan's mind struggled to grasp the new information and understand it, but it was difficult. It made sense, but the raw emotion he felt undermined the logic and all he felt was scared and hurt and confused and he couldn't quite shake the sense of betrayal.

And after all that, how could he know for sure? How could he know that Zarak was telling the truth now? It did make sense...but...

And Zarak just wanted to help him...? That was what all this was about? To get him out of a bad situation?

A wide range of conflicting emotion played across Kiyan's face, but in the end he just let his shoulders sag, relaxing a little--more out of defeat than comfort. He was angry, sure, and his trust had been broken, but there was that part of him that wanted to believe him, wanted him to still be the man he'd first met and rescued, who had been so easy to talk to, so kind...

"I don't know what any of those places are..." he muttered after a long pause, not looking at Zarak. "I dunno what I'd do there..."

Zarak watched the emotions rage in Kiyan's face. The kid was scared, angry, and all around confused which was a good thing. Fear would help keep him alive. The world was a terrible place and he'd have to learn quickly how to manage himself in tough situations. Zarak would make a man of him yet, even if he had to beat it into him.

Of course, if Kiyan decided that he wanted to leave once they were far enough away from the tribes, Zarak wasn't about to stop him. The kid needed to work things out. Of course, there would be no kidding himself that they'd ever see each other again. The world was big and he didn't exactly have a steady address. If the kid decided to bolt, he'd truly be on his own. Hopefully the journey ahead would prepare him enough should the situation call for it.

"If the jungle is any kind of clue, I'd say we have some time before stumbling upon anything resembling civilization. That'll be plenty of time to teach you the basics and...." he looked up and down his charge and smirked, "You know....get you into some pants. Not that there's anything wrong with the man-skirt you've got going on here, but it'll be a little hard to fight if the situation calls for it." Still, the pirate watched Kiyan warily. The past time they'd spent together was enough to prove that he was a prone to lashing out irrationally when faced with difficulties.

That'd have to stop now.

"If you're okay with that, we have to get going. Got a lot of ground to cover. You ready?" he was prepared to let go and begin walking depending on his answer.

A frown etched itself into Kiyan's face as Zarak spoke. He didn't understand what was wrong with his clothes yet Zarak had always been so...he'd always seemed to find it strange. And fighting? What? Who said anything about fighting? Kiyan didn't want to fight! Why would they even need to? And who?

He finally met Zarak's eyes, though, and gave a small nod of understanding. What choice did he really have? He couldn't go back, that was for certain. There was nowhere to go but forward.

He leaned back against the tree completely then, the fight slipping out of him. He had a lot of questions but he didn't know where to start except with the big one.

Nodding slowly, he let out a breath he'd been holding. "Yeah," he said. "Okay." And then, after a pause, he added, "You didn't mean it, did you?"

Zarak let go of Kiyan's shoulders as he slumped against the tree. It was clear that the fight had drained from him so he wasn't afraid the kid would bolt or anything. In fact, he was pretty sure that the poor boy was going through a bit of overload at the moment. Of course, who could blame him? It wasn't every day you were sentenced to a kind of death only to be rescued by a pirate who had treated you like a common criminal.

HA! Common criminal. Could a pirate actually treat someone else like that? The whole idea was ridiculous and highly hypocritical. Zarak had "ruined" enough women in his time to find the entire idea ridiculous. Of course, he was sure their father's never found out about the dalliance. And the few who had hadn't been all that accommodating of the strange man in their "virginal" daughter's bed.

Serendipty was by far his favorite port. The women there were always so lithe and sensual. Perfect territory for sure. Not to mention the large pearl exports that were gold for any pirate. He hoped that they'd stumble there first. A chest full of pearls would be enough to hold them off for years.

"Kiyan," Zarak responded to his question as seriously as he could, "I'm a pirate. D'you really think I would judge you for wanting to feel close to a woman? C'mon," he mussed through Kiyan's hair affectionately, "We have a lot of ground to cover."

He looked up at the stars that peaked through the trees to find The Wandering Lady - a constellation that would point them northeast. He was pretty sure, after factoring in where the storm had possibly thrown the ship off course, that was the way to go.

"Oh, nearly forgot." he reached into his boot and flipped a short dagger into his hand, along with a worn, salt stained hilt. "Here." he handed it to Kiyan, "It won't do you good 'till you know how to use it, but in case there are wild beasts about. I suggest not using it if we come in contact with any people - with any training your knife'll be outta your hands and used against you 'fore you blink. If that's the case, use your fists." he smirked and brushed his thumb against his broken nose, "I'm sure you'll do damage with that. But take the knife just in case."

Kiyan ducked his head reflexively, but not in time to avoid getting his hair all mussed. It was jarring, how familiar Zarak was being again after treating him so poorly, but...

It was all for a reason.

He was rescuing him.

Between the betrayal and the blinding fear that he was being escorted into the woods to be murdered, it was taking a little time for him to catch up with this new twist! And yet, that little affectionate gesture...

This was Zarak. This was the Zarak he knew.

He was still recovering when the man handed him a knife, and for a second Kiyan just stared stupidly at it before he cautiously accepted it. Ah! That reminded him!

Holding the knife awkwardly, blade down, Kiyan cleared his throat. "Ah, yeah, about that...do you...really think we'll be fighting?" he asked, eyes wide. What kind of place were they going to?! "I've never really--I mean, it's not good to fight. Er..." His eyes flicked to Zarak's nose and his cheeks colored a bit in shame. "I shouldn't have done that. I didn't even mean to. It's just, well, what you said--I'm sorry."

Zarak couldn't help but laugh - loudly and full of mirth - when Kiyan stumbled through his apology. It reminded him of a time long ago and practically forgotten when a young boy stood in the corner of a ships cabin wielding a broom over the corpses of his dead parents.

That was the first time Zarak had thrown his childhood to the dogs. That was the last time he had the luxury of being an innocent boy. It was nostalgic to see that seven year old boy in Kiyan, and sad too. Sad to know that Kiyan could have been him. He could have been raised in a community of love, loyalty, and traditions, but he had been forced on his path by forces out of his control and he fought his way every day.

Kiyan was a fighter, he could see that much, and he would do well in the world with a nudge in the right direction.

"Don't worry 'bout it, kid." he grinned, gingerly touching his swollen nose, "Y'did what you felt was right and in that type of circumstance who could blame you? Not me. I've broken enough noses and had mine broken enough times to be over it. Quite a good right hook y'got though."

The pirate looked at the blade, held awkwardly in Kiyan's hand, "Yeah, you're gonna have to learn to use it. The world's a hard place and a man's gotta have certain skills t'get by. I'm not saying I'm training you t'be a murderer or nothing but it's always good to have a blade for defense."

Zarak frowned at the way Kiyan wrapped his hand around the blade - like he was getting ready to skin a rabbit or something, certainly not defend himself.

"Here." he stepped forward and  pulled Kiyan's arm out. He flipped the blade and rearranged his fingers to hold the blade correctly. They needed to get away, but Kiyan wouldn't be a lick of help if he stood around like a fawn - jumping at every noise with a useless knife by his side. "Don't hold it like your gettin' ready to skin something. You've gotta have a firm grasp on the hilt but be fluid with your wrist and arm. Don't stick your finger out along the top either - that's asking for someone to break it or chop it off." he stepped back and held out his arms.

"Now...try to stick me."