[COLOR=GRAY][INDENT][INDENT][i] [center][color=red][b]"Cultural fire means everything. It means healing Country and when you heal Country, you heal people."[/b][/color] - Wurundjeri Elder [color=yellow]Dave Wandin[/color][/center] [color=darkgoldenrod]"Did the Larrakia even practice this?"[/color] Banjo interjected to little welcome. It was his first class and was going less than swimmingly. And strangely not because he was trying to be disruptive. [color=rosybrown]"Yes. It was a practice passed down through the generations by many First Nations peoples, including the Larrakia. And the Northern Territory was one of the first regions to start supporting cultural burning practices. After Indigenous populations started to return from pre-arranged 'settlements'. Governments which had, in many instances been ordering First Nations people from their land, not only did they allow them to return, but they swiftly re-integrated native cultural burning practices due to the land falling to such a state of disrepair."[/color] Another student leaned over from his chair. [color=chocolate]"That answer your question, White fella?"[/color] [color=darkgoldenrod]"Actually, yeah, because--"[/color] [color=rosybrown]"Now, now. That's not an unreasonable question. There were hundreds of groups of First Nations peoples, and due to the land the Larrakia occupied, it didn't necessarily require the same level of maintainance as, say Arnhem Land. But the Larrakia [b]WERE[/b] a trading sea-faring people and accumulated a lot of knowledge from other peoples. And whilst their land may not have had the same requirements in terms of cultural fire management, they did have the knowledge, and the means to gain that knowledge."[/color] [color=darkgoldenrod]"Also, sadly, in a lot of cases, particularly around city regions, invasion either wiped out entire groups of First Nations people, or annihilated large enough numbers that fire knowledge died out. Combined with the land they were on here in the first place... well, I didn't think I was asking a stupid question. But yeah. I didn't consider the knowledge may have been wider spread due to trading communications, and less held and controlled by only a few elders as is often the case with other First Nations peoples."[/color] An uncomfortable pause filled the room. [color=darkgoldenrod]"Oh c'mon... [b]I[/b] didn't bloody wipe 'em out. I'm just sayin' it happened! 'Cos it did!"[/color] The teacher stamped out the awkward silence like a creeping fire that was headed towards overly flammable brush. [color=rosybrown]"And you're correct to say so, because it did. But if we can get back on the topic at hand..."[/color] He tapped the smartboard and the two words behind him, before circling them. [center][h1][color=red]Cool Burning[/color][/h1][/center] [color=rosybrown]"What do we know about this?"[/color] [color=sienna]"We know to burn low."[/color] The teacher wrote the word 'Low' on the board. [color=rosybrown]"Yes! Next."[/color] [color=chocolate]"We know to burn either eary morning or night."[/color] The teacher added 'Early morn / night'. [color=rosybrown]"Yes, why's that important?"[/color] "Dew." The chorus went up from most of the students. [color=rosybrown]"That's right, and why..?"[/color] "It's what makes it a cool burn. And mostly self-extinguishes." [color=rosybrown]"That's good."[/color] [color=rosybrown]"And what else do we know?"[/color] [color=darkgoldenrod]"Different times, depending on region."[/color] [color=rosybrown]"That's right. The various Aboriginal peoples knew that the land dictates when the burn should take place. They knew how to read country, and when it was appropriate to use fire. The country in Arnhem Land speaks differently than that of the Kaurna people, and the timing becomes very different accordingly. When trees flower, when the wet season falls, all of these things differ and the country reveals all if you know how to read it."[/color] He then moved across the smart board and wrote one final word. [center][h2][color=red]Why?[/color][/h2][/center] [color=rosybrown]"And why do we do it?"[/color] [color=brown]"Gardening, eh, sir?"[/color] One student spoke up. [color=rosybrown]"That's right. Can extend that to our role as custodians of the land. Not as owners, but caretakers, working with it."[/color] [color=peru]"Made hunting easier."[/color] The teacher wrote 'Hunting' on the board. [color=rosybrown]"Good one, mate. And not many may have been thinking of the practical reasons. But yes, it made hunting easier. Cleared out tall grasses and bush which would have given places to hide."[/color] The teacher turned back to the class. [color=rosybrown]"Looking for one word. Starts with an 'R'."[/color] "Rejuvenation." Banjo thought to himself. [color=maroon][b]"Respect."[/b][/color] One student spoke up from the back. Banjo turned around. The boy made eye contact with him briefly, before looking back to the teacher at the front of the class. [color=rosybrown]"That's-- actually, that's also correct. Not the word I was looking for. But respect for country, it's absolutely a correct answer. Nice, Mamili."[/color] The teacher turned and wrote "& Respect" on the smartboard, before looking back to the class. [color=rosybrown]"Anyone? Anyone now what that other 'R' word might be? No? Alright. It's 'Re-juv-en-a-tion'"[/color] He sounded it out as he wrote the rest of the word on the board. [color=rosybrown]"Native flora and fauna responds far better to cultural cool burning practices than introduced species and pests. Native grasses re-grow. Native trees will germinate. The entire eco-system is replenished by the initial burn."[/color] [color=rosybrown]"Tempered by flames, country grows back stronger and better. And less susceptible to harm by untamed fire in the future. More prepared to handle future wild bushfires started by lightning strike or in hot situations..."[/color] [/i] [/INDENT][/INDENT][hr][center][img]https://media.discordapp.net/attachments/1070792705547980842/1116338226773372998/Banjo3.png[/img][/CENTER][hr][indent][sub][COLOR=SILVER][B]Location:[/B][/COLOR] [I]Pacific Royal Collegiate & University - Dundas Islands, Pacific Ocean[/I][/sub][sup][right][COLOR=SILVER][b]First Class: # 2.79[/b][/COLOR] [I]Cool Burning[/I][/right][/sup][/indent][sub][hr][/sub][INDENT][sub][color=SILVER][B]Interaction(s):[/B][/COLOR] Nil[/sub][SUP][RIGHT][COLOR=SILVER][b]Previously:[/b][/COLOR] [I]Previous Title[/I][/right][/SUP] [INDENT] [center][i][color=red][b]"The trunks show that they know fire, they live and understand fire, they’re trees that belong to the fire."[/b][/color][/i] - Kuku Thaypan Elder [color=yellow]Dr Tommy George[/color][/center] She wasn't particularly imposing when she finally made her appearance. But then he supposed she needn't be. The specialist. The one who takes away all of the pain, discomfort and disrepair, and makes it her own for a time. She turned through X-Rays and scans of the damage he'd sustained. [color=white]"So this is it? Some broken ribs. Lungs aren't too bad now, nothing structural there at least. Kidney. Spleen. And a sore throat. The most questionable thing I can see here is the head trauma."[/color] [color=darkgoldenrod][sup][sub]"Head trauma? My head feels fine."[/sub][/sup][/color] [color=white]"I'm talking in terms of potential brain damage. That's not something I want to mess around with, if I'm taking all of this on. It could affect how my hype gene activates, then I'd be left healing from all of this at a natural pace. There was some brain bleed, some swelling. They induced a coma to try and take it down. That's not nothing."[/color] [color=darkgoldenrod][sup][sub]"So you can't help me out?"[/sub][/sup][/color] [color=white]"I didn't say that. We're waiting on the latest."[/color] She kept a clipped, medical tone. She sighed. [color=white]"This isn't that bad. Assuming the results of your latest scan show significant improvement in this region,"[/color] she circled a part of the scan which showed large discolouration [color=white]"then we should be clear for a therapeautic session. Everything goes right, you'd then be out in a little over an hour. There's an hour mandatory observation period. You clear that, and you should feel fine during that time, and you're all done."[/color] And, as if on queue, a scan operator poked her head through the door and handed a yellow envelope containing his most recent results. She took them with a subtle thanks, and opened the envelope, holding them up to the light briefly. [color=white]"Aaaaand, we should be good to go."[/color] She put the scan transparency over a backlit holder which showed that the discolouration had indeed faded, showing a marked improvement to his condition. [hr] Banjo sat on a new, different hospital bed, awaiting the specialist's return. His ribs still ached. A wheelchair was brought in, with the specialist sitting in it in a patient's gown and surgical hat. [color=darkgoldenrod][sup][sub]"So how's all this go then?"[/sub][/sup][/color] Banjo asked. [color=white]"Well, we swap for a start. The bed's for me, you're for the chair."[/color] Banjo screwfaced. He knew exactly how much this was going to suck, collapsing back down into the wheelchair. [color=darkgoldenrod][sup][sub]"Yeah 'right. How we gonna manage this then..."[/sub][/sup][/color] He muttered to himself. With some assistance from the nursing staff, Banjo was seated in the wheelchair and the specialist was lying on her back upon the hospital bed. [color=white]"Now... closer.[/color] Banjo was slowly wheeled closer. The whole situation made him slightly nervous. Like there was some strange occult magic about to take place, which stood in stark contrast to the sterile hospital environment. Her hands glowed and an energy swirled. Blues and oranges and purples. She was hesitant, as if she was well accustomed to what was in store for her, and needed to mentally prepare, and then her hand was upon him. He felt nothing at first. And watched as her lip slightly curled as the damage began to transfer and the pain travelled up her nerves in the process. Banjo wanted to tell her to stop. That it was enough, that he could wait and let the rest heal naturally, but the nurse hushed him. The pain in his ribs started to subside. The minor niggle in his throat that remained from the intubation, grew more distant. Like a distant echo from a faraway memory. She never complained, teeth remained gritted as she bore the pain. And then the hand lifted and the moment ceased. There was a gentle sigh, and after a few moments of silence he was wheeled away. Unsure what to make of the entire experience. His pain was indeed gone. He assumed the actual damage was as well, but he felt so fine that it all seemed so strange that anything actually happened. As if his injuries were nothing but a faint memory from a dream. He was wheeled to a ward for his hour's observation. [hr] Banjo was free. Free from his wheelchair, free from the ward. He wore his new Strigidae uniform which had been delivered to him - and he found himself swimming in,he had indeed lost a lot of weight from his week trapped indoors - as he walked the school grounds alone at an awkward hour of the day. It all seemed surreal. He would be expected to go back to the Intake House to move his stuff to his new House dorm. But that could wait some. He was outside. He was free. The sun shon down, like it was made for him. He looked up and found himself alone in parklands, trees and greenery, blue skies and yellow sun. Bright colours the antithesis of the whites, greys and darkened corners of the Hospital rooms he'd been shuffled between with their artificial lighting. He looked to his left and right and checked he was indeed alone. A broad smile crossed his face. With a sudden burst he drank deep of the sun. His breath quickened and then halted, his body turned black. His back seemed to click into refreshed place after spending too long tightened, removing the pressure on his ribs. Muscles and sinew re-knitted and his synapses flared, providing a quick hit of ecstasy. He held it and worked to restore his breathing whilst he juiced. The corona started to swirl around his person, as the surrounding air temperature dropped markedly. Perhaps two or three degrees. His teeth shon bright through his broadened smile. It took work to hold his breathing steady, as if it weren't a natural thing, in his current state. He felt his body flood with the sensation. He felt like he was throbbing with energy. He stopped the process and let his body power down. He took a deep breath, as he felt refreshed. He was still swimming in his uniform, but he didn't feel as frail anymore. He took another look around left and right and shuffled a little. He bounced up on the balls of his feet a few times. Continuing to look around. Not looking to ensure people were a safe distance anymore. Instead checking for witnesses. His broad smile turned to playful grin and he took off at a sprint. He glided at an Olympic level athlete's gait, before taking three well placed steps, planting and leaping eleven feet upwards towards the thick bough of a tree. Snatching it with one hand, he swung with his legs to propel him to a higher branch, snatching it with the other, and turning his body to another branch, releasing and grabbing it with both hands. He laughed joyfully. And with a half swing, quickly brought himself up to a seated position, some thirty feet off the ground. Far above, his new Head of House, Theron Demetrios smiled, watching the troubled youth have his fun and enjoying the unique perspective his own power of flight provided him. A drone swarm swept up, and diverted its path around him, recognising the chip in the wristband that Isabella Christianson had provided him. Even in a hyperhuman school where it's understood that some people can fly, you'd be surprised how rarely people actually look up. Banjo clung to the canopy and swung from the treetops, elated with his rejuvenated health. The sun, the trees, the sky, the land. He was back amongst what felt natural. 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