Frettzo
FetzenOutsider
Sanya’s second day in Ha-Dûna began when she was stirred awake by the sounds creaking wood, giggling, and feet rapidly approaching her room. She barely had enough time to sit up in her bed and hesitantly reach for Sorrowsting before two young girls with grins on their faces barreled through the curtain that partitioned her off from the rest of the world, carrying with them all manner of devilry - but also breakfast. Lured by the promise of food, Sanya tiredly allowed the two village girls to give her a quick wash, brush and straighten out her dark locks and pick out her clothes. Before she knew it, Sanya was dressed in local finery; with a long green dress that made her feel like they were trying to make her look homely, and a leather sash strapped around her waist so tight it was hard to breathe. It was cloying and restrictive, but at least it wasn’t anything like eastern fashion - or worse, prairie-like.
Breakfast was as much an exercise in eating as it was answering a lot of questions. Who she was, how she met Lucia, how long they’d known each other, what it was like knowing a helgen. Sanya did her best to reply, but in most cases the two girls only cared about the most succinct answers; any that would immediately give them new and interesting tidbits about Lucia. In return, they seemed determined not to answer anything but the most basic questions about Ha-Dûna and its peoples, answering most of Sanya’s questions with a shrug and a knowing glance between the both of them. That was fine. She’d take her questions up the chain. Kaer Pinya had brushed her aside during the feast, but now the bustle of their arrival would surely have died down. With that in mind, Sanya finished her late breakfast alongside two local chatterboxes, and then headed out to meet up with Lucia.
As it turned out, however, finding Lucia was a challenge all in its own. She wasn’t in her room, wasn’t in the town centre, or any of the buildings the townsfolk suggested they’d seen her at. For the better part of the early day, she felt like she was chasing down a mirage. Her friend and travelling companion was missing - swept away by some mysterious force and held aside on some secret project that it seemed Sanya was not privy to. That was fine. She was a special woman after all, not just to the druids, and Sanya was sure they’d do all they could to glean as much as they could from her in what little time they had. When the sun stood at its highest in the sky, Sanya resigned herself to examining the village instead, and resumed her previous inspection of the palisade that made up the inner wall, making the circuit around it from the outside; and politely greeting all the people she met on the way.
Even a cursory investigation lent more credence to her initial doubts from the previous day - there was no way this sanctum with its gate - would be able to save more than a piece of the population in the case of an attack before the gate came down. If they waited to pack people in, Sanya doubted they’d have time, or space, to move in defense. In that regard, even the wicked city in the east was more safe. They certainly seemed to have it peaceful enough, yet Sanya knew that a sense of peace would more often than not lead to slaughter. Starting with her own village, all that time ago. She stopped herself with a sigh, rubbing at the bridge of her nose as she gathered her thoughts. She’d come here on good terms, without pressure to do anything but accompany her friend. They didn’t need her security investigation. Still, she filed away a few new questions she’d ask at a later date.
Not long after her investigation, she caught wind of Lucia on the far side of the village, trailed by a whole procession of white cloaks trailing her every step reverently. Sanya grabbed her spear, a poor complement to her outfit even by her own standards, and moved as quickly as the long hemline on her dress allowed her to finally join the procession.
Her old friend seemed happy as ever to see her, and though there wasn’t really time - the druids insisted - to fill Sanya in on what exactly was going on more than a brief explanation, nor time to exchange more than basic pleasantries or quips in the small breaks they were afforded, Sanya quickly found herself in the role she was most comfortable with - letting Lucia guide the way. Dress ill-suited for the purpose or not, she calmly trailed their object of worship, warded off a particularly hands-on fan, exchanged the occasional friendly barb to lighten the mood; which the druids did not seem to find as funny as Lucia did.
Sanya was restless, but still at peace. It was a marvel watching Lucia work her way through each stop on their tour. She was confident, brimming with an unbridled happiness for each person who fell on their knees at her feet. Lucia was what Sanya could never be: a compassionate and loving person. She watched with a sad smile from the sidelines as Lucia helped an older man up off the ground, talked about the Sun Mother, radiated that burning smile that seemed to come naturally. Sanya did not know how many of their kind there were, ageless landwalkers, but each time she saw that smile she felt blessed to have met this one.
When Sanya and Lucia separated for the evening, Sanya felt at ease. She had forgotten to ask her questions of the druids - she’d do that in the morning. She also hadn’t really talked properly to Lucia since - well, come to think of it, they hadn’t really had a chance to talk properly, even before Ha-Dûna. But tomorrow would be different. When the warrioress stowed her millennia-old spear to creep back into bed, it was a positive outlook for what was to come. Perhaps Ha-Dûna could truly work as the refuge from the wickedness of the world they both had sought. She’d help them prepare against the threats of the world. Do her part.
Yet when the next day came, Sanya found her assistance unwanted. When she got the chance to speak with Kaer Pinya, or indeed any other druid that appeared to have authority, they gave her bland pleasantries or suggested she talk to someone else. She queried them on Iskrill sightings, waterfolk both horned and foul, raiders, slavers, dangerous wildlife. Each was rebuffed in its own way. Sanya tried to lend her expertise in other ways, and again she was met with at best awkward silence or brief tokens of gratitude. As she walked with the others, she quickly realized again what she already knew - they were not interested in her. Even when they spoke on matters of which Sanya had knowledge, they did not truly listen nor care unless Lucia first gave her the word. Even then, Sanya felt, they only did so to please Lucia, rather than any value she might be giving them. It was draining. The day passed by her in a blur, and after a good few hours of participating, Sanya felt her old mood shuffling back in like a rainstorm threatening the peace of the village.
The pattern did not change over the coming day - and Sanya found herself less and less motivated to endure the brief lip service that was paid to her. They crowded Lucia like a pack of wolves around a lamb, and there was no threat in sight. Sanya was superfluous. What was worse was that she had started to feel a growing sting from the group, both in reaction to her own presence, and a more insidious build of anxiety, pain and frustration. She and Lucia didn’t really talk; there wasn’t time to stop and talk during the tight schedule they seemed to have planned out in Sanya’s absence. No moments together, and during the few they were, Lucia seemed distant. She seemed caught up in her own world.
So when the sound of the two village girls barreling towards her room woke her up for yet another day of the same, Sanya had already decided. Even from her room far apart from Lucia’s she could feel the growing intensity of frustration. She didn’t need the added burden of continuously forcing the villagers to include Sanya. At this point a lot of them tried to pretend she didn’t exist. Or they genuinely did not care. Sanya was tired of it, and she was sure Lucia was too. So she’d spare her that, let her be pampered. It didn’t bother her, she thought and simultaneously tried to wipe the frown from her face.
Sanya dressed herself in her own loose clothes, took Sorrowsting, dodged the girls’ continued onslaught of questions about Lucia, and simply exited the hovel to face the day on her own. Given the many tours of the village area, she now had a fairly good idea of the layout, and the dark-haired warrior sought herself away from the bustle of the village without a sound. A serene walk later, and she’d found her way to a fallow field on the outskirts.
Out here, in the quiet whip of the wind, away from others, she finally found time to do something she had been putting off, and went back to training with her ancient weapon, half in thought, and half focused. The last time she’d allowed herself to truly practice was… in the north. The memory of the Weike sent a chill rippling through her spine. That night was hazy. A blight on what could have been a new life, however short. Her breathing shallow, she forced herself to remember their faces as she struck air with her spear. She was a coward. A fool. A violent thug. Other faces flushed back into her mind unbidden. People crying, begging for mercy, spitting in her face. Angry men, violent murderers, innocents begging for their lives. How could anyone stay around a monster like her without becoming like her? She had thought she only brought death when she went north, and the Weike had proven her right.
When Sanya broke out of her daze thanks to a growling stomach, the sun was already starting to crest the hills. Lost in her own misery, the ancient woman headed back towards Ha-Dûna.
Over the following days, Sanya returned to the meadow. She could feel a dark haze looming over the village, a niggling pain in the back of her head. A recognizable and unpleasant gloom that burrowed deep and stirred her heart. Still, Lucia was surrounded by allies. She didn’t need another troubled ageless bringing her down with her issues. Trying to fit in. No, she would seek her out if it got worse, but it wasn’t the first time she had felt this way. Lucia was smarter than her, and a better person. She just needed space and time to think. Just like Sanya.
Sorrowsting swept through the air with a precision and power that surprised the warrior herself. She hadn’t had the time to reflect on her skills in a while, hadn’t given herself the space to do anything but live in the moment, but there was no denying that she was stronger than before. She always tried to stay in excellent shape, but something felt better. The spear was lighter, and she could keep training longer at high pace before running out of breath. Come to think of it, she had barely felt the heavy terrain as they traversed the land towards Ha-Dûna. Was this the true touch of the Sun Mother, or something more? In fact, she couldn’t feel any of the old injuries that lingered after her foray into the north. Mind set on the physical, Sanya grasped her spear with both hands, secured it safely against her body, and then set off to run and exercise. She would test her limits properly.
When the sun had begun to set on the day, Sanya finally made her way back to the village once more. She’d barely broken a sweat during a regular run. She felt stronger. Better. Perhaps she had been this way for a long time. Perhaps it was the Sun Mother. She did fight two different trolls in the span of a few weeks. Sanya’s thoughts drifted towards the Weike once more, before they were disrupted by the growing pain building in the back of her head. The despair radiating from the centre of the village was becoming rough to handle. She felt her own emotions mingle with the influence of others, stirring up old anxieties, making even the air feel like a personal slight against her. Sanya hurried back to her lodgings, avoiding the eyes of others. She’d speak to Lucia before it got any worse. First thing in the morning.
Morning came, and with it the two girls who arrived to once more dress Sanya and doll her up according to the local beauty standards. Sanya allowed it, head focused on the discordant emotions stirring her to her own pain. It was awful. It was frustrating. She gave the girls nothing more than gruff agreement as they once more trapped her in a cloying emerald dress with restricted movement. She grabbed her spear, and headed straight for Lucia’s room.
But Lucia was not there.
A bustle of druids flocked all around Sanya, moving around the lodgings. Throwing off her sensation. How she wished she could truly pinpoint emotion. She grabbed a druid at random, a little too forceful. A frustration built up inside her gradually, radiated at her from afar like a taunt and infected her thoughts. ”Where is Lucia?” she croaked, frowning at the scene. The druid gave her a mild sneer, and Sanya imagined breaking his nose for his insolence.
“The great helgen Lucia is with Kaer Pinya.” he responded matter-of-factly, offering a smile that Sanya could’ve sworn was malicious, and then continued on his way.
Sanya looked around as best she could without pushing through the crowd, then moved back outside. Someone bumped her side and went on without talking to her, and Sanya felt the irritation stir to a boiling blood. With long, deep breaths, she tried to calm herself. It wasn’t her emotions. She was fine. She wouldn’t hurt anyone. Not again. Her gaze fell around the town centre, but she could not see any procession, and the next person she asked just shook her shoulders. She couldn’t take it. It was like ants crawling all over her body. She hated the people around her, looking at them made her angry.
She’d come back when she was sure Lucia was present, instead of risking any problems. They already didn’t like her, Sanya decided, and stormed off towards the meadow for another day, putting as much distance between herself and the roil of emotion as she could. Sanya hurried out into the relative lonesome of the edge of Ha-Dûna, tried to center herself. Still, the entire village felt like a thunderstorm encroaching upon her mind. She’d have to fight to keep any of her mind to herself.
Briefly putting Sorrowsting aside, Sanya leant down to grab the hemline of her emerald dress, and rolled up the fabric slowly over her knees, tucking the hemline firmly into the tight sash around her waist. She loosened the small linen straps on her arms and rolled up the sleeves. Pleased with her makeshift work, she grasped her spear, and resumed her heavy training from the previous days. All she had to do was lose herself in the motions. Don’t think. Just do.
Sanya closed her eyes, and got back to practice. Try as she might, the emotions would not fade from her mind. The focus on her training was not enough, merely a weak and thin shield against the building storm. Sanya forced herself to focus on her form, on her movements, but still she felt the pestilence of rage, frustration and despair growing in the back of her mind. Almost as though it steadily approached her even here, and threatened to drown her in its entirety.
"Sanya!" came Lucia's anger filled voice. "I've been looking everywhere for you!"
Sanya stopped in her tracks, eyes shooting open. She felt it more clearly than ever now, confirming her own fears and suspicions. It was like standing in a storm. Still, she turned to face Lucia, whose face was masked in angry tears. ”Lucia? What-.. Why are you out here?” She offered at first, and then immediately inspected her long-time companion closer. She asked, though she knew the answer already. ”Are you alright?”
Lucia shook her head and wiped away her tears as she kept on walking. "We're leaving this… This place." was her reply, more emotional now then enraged.
Sanya parted her lips to reply when Lucia powered on straight past her, and she cleared her throat. ”Lucia? Lucia, wait!” she managed, turning to follow the woman in the field. ”Did they hurt you? What happened?” Sanya asked with uncertainty, feeling her own emotions warp and twist under the spell of another. Still, she followed with spring in her step, dropping Sorrowsting to skip forward and catch up to the escaping Lucia. Her hand stretched out quickly, reaching for Lucia’s arm. ”Lucia.”
Lucia halted at the touch, head low as she began to speak. "I don't… They were…" her voice broke. "I'm just a person." she whispered, beginning to sob.
Sanya wrapped around quickly to face her, and then closed the distance to pull Lucia into an embrace without a second thought, a deep and centering breath escaping the shorter warrior as she focused on offering Lucia some measure of comfort. She felt the bubbling emotions tear into her, and a building rage that was most certainly her own, as she stared back towards what she could see of the village. ”I’m here.” she uttered quietly.
Lucia let herself be held as the tears came.