Topic: Ways Old & New

Nejara

Date: 2008-04-28 11:40 EST
Heart, body, and soul. Simply, a person was not anything without all three of these. These that had dictated her even in service of others carried her and guided her in the twenty three years she had been alive.

She was called Nejara, a name that meant "tiny dancer"among the Gusari, named by the man who had claim on her and her mother until she was seven. From the time she was that age, she had spent it in the tent of one of the holy and honorable Wiseman called a Klaer.

A history of trials and growing brought her to the age of ascension. Markings inked along her spine tell the tale of that accomplishment. It would not be until she had entered her eighteenth year that she was brought into the feral lands of Rhy'din from the Gusari Province that lay to its far west along the Black Sands coastline.

In Rhy'din, she was lost from things she knew and was found and stumbled into areas completely unfamiliar. She knew love and duty as well as heartache and loss. Men, women, and creatures of all sorts came to be known as well. Some feared while others were held dear and cherished.

When there was loss a second time and after an ill reputed creature she had come to care for tried to kill her, she withdrew from sight and Rhy'din altogether. Much of it all was remembered and some forgotten.

After several years of being absent, she returned to find the house she had bought from an Elfin merchant had been ransacked and in ruins with seemingly fire damage to what was there. Nothing that had been hers was there.

Oddly, as Nejara packed the few things she could claim as hers these years she did not mourn the loss of things from the house. Never had she had too much or felt comfortable with the idea of it. What she had been before Rhy'din had never really left her. Ebony eyes looked around the room rented at the inn she had spent a lot of time in over the last several months. Left hand lifted to quiet the soft clattering of stones that dripped from leather strands at the end of several, fine braids.

The old, leather bag was placed to the foot of the bed and opened to check that she had brought all that was hers. Azure dress lay atop the set of dark blue silks and gossamer that she'd worn years ago when she first arrived. A couple more simple dresses and an extra set of soft soled boots were there. Two items of jewelry and a small leather bag of coins. And four, small ovals with the paintings done by a craftsman of those she had called family were each carefully wrapped in linen and lay within the bag as well. The weather worn cloak that was too big for her was rolled neatly like a bedroll and was picked up from the bed, along with the bag of what was hers.

Another look around to the room, gaze scoured it to make certain she hadn't missed anything before she stepped out and closed the door behind her. She was headed towards West End, to where Sid and Scott lived and had welcomed her to do the same.

Nejara

Date: 2008-04-28 14:12 EST
On foot the distance to the brownstone seemed to take a long while, but she knew that had to do with the way that Sid and Scottie usually brought her there. Magic made her ill. Normally it was to the point beyond nausea until she emptied her stomach. Over the years, she was growing used to it. But it was not soon enough, it sometimes seemed. By staggering and hastily guessed-at ratios, she figured that half of those in Rhy'din must be able to wield magic of some sort. To avoid them all was just not possible. It made her week and ill, but she bore up under it all.

While she made her way along the cobbled road into West End, she shivered. There were places in that area that made her heart stop when the shadows shifted a certain way. Besides the brownstone, Nejara had rarely ventured into the area. Ebony gaze swept left and right but barely lifted a notch above waist level when she passed anyone on the street. She didn't dare the chance of giving anyone the reason for confrontation or anything else for that matter.

Hems of azure swam about, moving by a pace that just a notch below hurrying. Nervously she felt her stomach fluttering about as she approached the brownstone and looked up the front of it.

She then drew into her lungs the courage to make a way towards the door and found it open. It made her pause and wonder if it was supposed to be that way. Onyx glanced a look over her shoulder only to return it to the partially open door again. She nudged it open a little more with her hip, causing a quiet shuffled sound of her foot against the floor at the threshold. When she'd stepped inside her hips against nudged the door, this time to close it.

Hands were filled with the rolled up cloak and the leather bag of what belonged to her. She shook her head to send mahogany lengths over her shoulder and down the course of her back until those ends met with the flare of her hips.

"Sid" Scottie?? Olive hued visage lifted but her voice didn't fully. She had rarely ever shouted and she didn't know who else might be there. Maybe someone was sleeping. Maybe some of the children would be disturbed.

The Gusari woman stopped several strides inside to simply look about. Often it had been after dark when they had brought her there and usually for the three of them to rest. It was her first chance to see what more of the brownstone looked like.

Graceful, dancer's steps moved her without a sound through the immediate foyer. She didn't move too fast, though. There was no telling what to expect when in Rhy'din. Given time, and hopefully without disturbing anyone, she would find the two that were so wholly trusted. Until then she began a slow exploration of the first floor after the bag and rolled cloak were set near the wall in the foyer.