Arid Sea [Dark]

[Bee]

Ananta cut a few of the fresh apples—the dried ones she kept stored for her wanderings—and skewered them with the fish to get a good roast going. The other ones she let sit as they were, to be eaten as themselves. Apples needed no embellishing. It was one of their finer qualities. Ananta had even had apple pie once, a long time ago. Kamala had made it for her as a birthday present, after painstakingly baking a crust and gathering enough fruit. It had been a small but perfect present.

She almost grimaced at the curious fit of personal reflection the impending dinner brought on.

Perhaps she had just gone on too long without company. Even quiet and distrustful company. She was almost annoyingly pleased to see him throw the entrails on the skillet. The innards were a rare dish, but they were not to everyone’s taste. Her mother said it required a refined palate, which meant either delicately sensitive or quite eclectic and mad. Ananta clearly fell into the latter category, as absolutely nothing about her was sensitive.

At last, the fish were cooked. “Let our ancestors feast with us in spirit,” she said, primly, and nabbed some fish.

[Dark]

Dev twitched in discomfort as he dug into his portion of the meal in silence, uncomfortably aware of what his guest must think of his manners. He hadn’t offered up so much as a thanks to the ancestors since his clan has been slaughtered—what did he have to be thankful for, after all—and the act reminded him too much of his mother, besides; she had always been one to follow tradition. But he knew enough to know that is what incredibly bad form, no matter the reasoning behind the snub.

The fish was good, though, and he forced himself to enjoy it rather than entertain such bleak thoughts or worry about what his guest might think of his silence. It wasn’t her business, after all.

He eyed her out of the corner of his eye as he snagged some entrails, still feeling uncomfortable, and realized that he still had no idea what her name was. He didn’t usually bother with that sort of thing but considering how they seemed to be running into one another, he thought maybe he should know it for next time.

[Bee]

Ananta’s small lapses into the depths of memory had merged into a general melancholy as she went through her meal. She tried to look like she was enjoying the fish, or at least betray no emotion at all. She was not ordinarily one for small talk, and it didn’t seem like her companion was either, so at least she didn’t have to moderate her voice. It wasn’t something she had a problem with; she just didn’t want to expend the effort.

Kirana and Nitin should be here to eat this; especially Nitin, who had introduced her to fish innards in the first place. For a brief moment she resented the boy merely because he existed, because he was sitting next to her instead of one of her brothers, instead of anyone she knew. He was disgustingly corporeal. She could smell the faint, acrid burn of his sweat and the leftover traces of blood, hazed over by the scent of fish. She felt a sharp, sudden inclination to violence.

Fool, she told herself, and finished off her apple. “Perfectly cooked,” she said, mildly, and the mere act of speaking dissolved her bloody impulse. Perhaps small talk had its place after all.

[Dark]

Dev accepted the compliment as graciously as he could with a grunt and a small nod, and cleaned up the mess in at attempt to avoid anymore awkward small talk; not that she seemed very keen on it. When he was done, he sat back down and nibbled on the apple he had been given; sugary goodness rolled off his tongue, and it was an effort of sheer willpower that kept him from completely devouring it. Apples were something to be savored, and he took him time.

It was only after he was finished and licking the juice off his fingers that he remembered his guest. Awkwardness came rushing back, and he searched for something to break the silence.

“Thanks for the apple,” he muttered.

And then, because it was bothering him, this whole interaction thing: “I’m Dev.”

[Bee]

“Ananta,” she said. “Avani.”

Objectively it was somewhat pointless to add her clan name to that, because her clan no longer existed, but she was still clinging to them—and at the moment, simultaneously saw nothing wrong with that, and belittled herself for being sentimental. Linguistics were a more tenuous way to hold onto someone than bones (and she had plenty of bones), but any way to maintain a grip on her identity, she thought, was worth keeping.

Names did have a certain power, in addition. After her stint as Petra, she conceived of them as something of a weapon, or simply armor. She could alter her entire sense of self by calling herself a different name; think differently, act differently.

But that was uncomfortable and heavy armor, weighted in more ways than one. She had no wish to wear it.

Then she shut the door on that line of thinking entirely.

“A pleasure,” she added, after a moment’s pause, because she had been raised with manners.

[Dark]

The emphasis put on her clan name--that defining pause--had cold fury coiling in the pit of his stomach. His own had been buried now for many years, left behind with crumbling bones and happier memories; it wouldn’t be his own again until the blood debt was settled. Would he even deserve it by then? There was so much blood on his hands, now…

It was, perhaps, a bit ridiculous to begrudge a stranger her right to clan, but after the happenings of today that wound was picked raw and too close to the surface; her belonging was emphasis to his own displacement and loss.

He knew now, older and perhaps a bit wiser than the boy who had set out for revenge, that nothing would change when the last man died on his blade--his would be a hollowly victory; he would still be a man without a clan--but he owed his family their dues. And, more than anything, he feared that moment--when the rage and pain that had guided him no longer had a purpose. What would be left for him then.

It was better not to think at all, and he resented his guest for bringing such thoughts to the forefront.

“I’ll take my rest, now,” he said, instead of the other less pleasant things on the tip of his tongue, and turned his back to her. Hopefully, she wouldn’t see fit to skewer him during the night.

A pleasure, indeed. Bah.

[Bee]

She had clearly said something wrong, judging by how quickly he decided to be done with the conversation. She was too busy with her own thoughts, however—or, rather, the blocking thereof—to devote any significant amount of energy to pondering his emotional state. There might be some point in the near future when she might ask him what his problem was. This was not that moment.

Moodiness was something she disliked and tried to ignore. So she gave his back a slightly curious, narrow-eyed moment of attention, and shifted her focus elsewhere. She thought it a bit early to think about going to sleep—though perhaps she was losing her ability to judge that, after going to long without sleep herself. It was getting a little cool out, however, and thus much better for a run. Physical activity kept her mind from dwelling on anything she would rather it not.

She stood. “I’ll take a run.” A long one. “I should return in an hour or two.”

[Dark]

Dev muttered a goodbye and listened to her leave, berating himself for his complete lack of social skills and wishing desperately that he was actually tired. Some sleep would be well-advised, especially after the fight in the marketplace, but he was hours from being even remotely tired: sleep had not come easily to him in a long time, and was rarely pleasant when it did eventually decided to visit him.

He switched position several times trying to get comfortable and eventually gave up, pacing the camp restlessly and wondering when she would get back. If it weren’t for the stitches in his belly, he would normally be doing katas at this time of day. The steady, fluid, repetitive motion was soothing to a disquieted mind, and if he worked himself to exhaustion he could sometimes catch a few, blissful hours of uninterrupted sleep.

Dev continued to pace, turning his mind to the day’s fight and considering how he could do things differently. He had to learn from his mistakes--grow faster, stronger, smarter--or he would never make it to the end; the hardest fight was still to come.

[Bee]

She turned the run, which she had not intended to be overly arduous, into an eight mile affair that had her suitably tired by the time she made it back to the little camp they had set up. It was dark. Her limbs were pleasantly rubbery. She was too practiced to feel the burn in the morning. Her mind was blank, and had been for the last few hours. She had covered a good swath of territory; it was not the most scenic sprint she had ever taken, but she hadn’t been paying much attention to the scenery, either.

She slipped into her small sleeping bag without sparing a glance to Dev. It was cool now, and the thought of sleeping on the dirt was tempting, but it was going to get colder.

In the morning she would set off to wandering again, with or without the wolf, as the case may be.

She laid back and stared at the sky, tracing patterns in the stars for hours.

[Dark]

Dev made no move towards conversation when she left in the morning; he stayed in his bedroll and feigned continued sleep while he listened to her pack and slip quietly away. It was better this way, and saved him from the awkward process of goodbye.

He got up when he started to feel restless, and went through his morning routine on auto-pilot. He did a basic warm-up, before summoning his blades and going through some simple katas; his stitches pulled only slightly, and it felt good to stretch muscles that had stiffened during the night.

When he was done, he broke a light fast and then packed up his meager supplies. It was still early yet, and he had a long way to travel.

It was an uneventful morning of traveling in an uneventful landscape, and by mid-morning he was suffering from an extreme case of boredom—he only had vague rumors about the whereabouts of his next target, and he hated chasing after fancies, but there was nothing for it—and then the bandits attacked.