Flashback: Caminar Gather 7 Turns Ago (Th'ane)

[Alsivor]

It had been a long and dusty ride to the traditional gathering place along the edge of cultivated land and arid desert. Here the wagons circled the great fire one by one, in clusters or singly depending on the size of the family. Last turn Aleda had come with her family, five wagons of mother, father, siblings, aunts, uncles and cousins. Their stock had been flush, fabrics and finished garments both, the style in her father's signature combination of Caminar and Holder fashion. Mostly Holder with just that touch of something else that made his wares so much in demand.

This turn she came with Giana's family, the old sabedoria had her own wagon of course, outfitted well for the treating of the ill and injured, herbs hanging from the ceiling within, the eaves without, the scent of them pungent and dusty by turns. Ten wagons, a sizable group, core family and extended family, almost to the point where they might need to split off again. A lot had changed in a single turn. Last time, she had been formally handed over to Giana for training, with all the attendant grand words and promises and handshakes between the interested parties.

The men had spat on the ground a lot, Giana had mostly watched /her/ taking her measure with bird-bright dark eyes that rarely wavered. Aleda had felt uncomfortable, unworthy almost under that scrutiny. And yet, Giana had said yes, had accepted her into her family, her apprenticeship. Those first weeks had been miserable. Aleda hadn't been used to the smells of herbs, of unfamiliar old woman, of the food Mellara, the eldest son's wife cooked over the fire pit nightly. She had pouted and stomped and made trouble. But Giana had said nothing, waiting for Aleda to get over her tantrum. There had been no learning for her until she had; only endless picking and cleaning. "Pick this herb. Clean it. Bunch it for drying." Over and over until Aleda had wanted to scream and tear her hair out.

So much had changed in a single turn.

She had grown bored eventually, restless. One night she had come to Giana as the old sabedoria rocked on the tongue of her wagon. Penitently she had cast herself down at her mentor's feet and leaned her head into the woman's knee. "Mother, forgive me. Please. Teach me?" Impetuous, heartfelt words on Aleda's part. Giana had only smiled calmly and reached down to smooth impossibly wild hair. "Of course, my child. It is what you are here for. And now you are ready to listen. Your ears and your heart are open. So. Listen. I will tell you the beginning as I learned it from my teacher turns upon turns ago."

So it went, month upon month, with Giana reciting from memory every herb and its uses, sending Aleda to collect plants and triage them until she knew every one she had been taught so far, by heart and could separate weed and crop and healing plant by sight and by touch. She carried Giana's bag when she was called on to ease a mother's birthing pains, held the womens' hands as they pushed and murmured nonsensical encouragement. She boiled the hot water for Giana's teas and carried the preparations to her when asked. She held a man's leg when his foot had to be amputated and gritted her teeth through the stench of blood and burning flesh as the wound was cauterized. Slowly she moved further and further down the path of knowledge and the more she learned the more she loved it, the more she wanted to know.

The learning staved off her boredom but not her restlessness. She did not understand its nature either, though Giana, wise as ever, watched and understood for her. One afternoon about a month after the bleeding started, Giana turned her tale-telling to the tides of moon blood, the making of babies, how to prevent the making and how to abort if a child was undesired. Aleda listened raptly and set to making the remedies with willing hands. "What you use is only as good as what you make," Giana warned her and the girl took it all deeply to heart.

Six months later she slipped into her first hayloft with a plantado boy and took those first stumbling steps onto yet another path. That first heady makeout session led to more and more, everywhere the wagon stopped, slipping out at night, seeing whom she would find and the restlessness slept for a little while.

The turn had come around and here they were at the great Caminar Gather again. Aleda had a new dress, a gift from Giana for doing so well in her first turn as an apprentice. The colors were all those held in a fire and it fit in ways that maybe it ought not for a girl so young. But maybe Giana understood something about Aleda that she didn't yet understand herself. So it was that when the wagon pulled in, she was one of the first off, running to fetch water for the draybeasts, helping to set up their own small fire and settle Giana comfortably. Excitement lit the young woman's eyes and as she moved about her tasks, she sang a little, wild for the night to actually begin. Soon enough the sun begin to drop in the sky and Aleda along with the other girls in the caravan retreated to bathe at the communal tub, filling it yet again with clean water, swapping songs and stories and plans for the evening. They combed each other's hair and threaded bright ribbons into the strands, tied up each other's undergarments and helped to slip finery over youthful limbs.

So it was that Aleda, all of fourteen and a half, strode out into that Gather arm-in-arm with the other girls, giggling and laughing as they went. She, chin held high, proud of her accomplishments this turn and looking for everything that the night promised, whatever that might be.

[Tabula Rasa]

He hated this time of year. When he was younger, he'd tried to convince himself, every turn, that it would be different. He'd be on his best behavior, be courteous, be kind. Someone would notice and look beyond the strangeness of his hair and eyes. Someone would look at him and smile and not spit on the ground as they passed.

Just freshly sixteen, Therane was wiser, this turn. He glowered as his mother and uncle's caravan bumped its way into the crush of others and he muttered under his breath as he helped unload his uncle's jewelery and little wooden trinkets. He cursed when he was told to go and wash with the other boys and for this received a smack upside his head and a stern look from Tesera. "Mind yourself," she scolded. "And don't ruin your new shirt."

Therane only scowled and skulked off. He knew this routine as well. Hanging back, he watched as boys and young men filled the tubs with clean water while they renewed ties of friendship and exchanged stories of their adventures on the road. They glanced his way now and again, but Therane didn't move any closer and, after a few obligatory insults tossed in his direction, they forgot about him. When the bathing tubs were no longer being used and the others had gone, he did what he could with the cold, dirty water. There was, at least, a small bag of soapsand that someone had left behind.

He was pouring a little into his hand when a broad and swarthy boy returned, eyes casting about the ground. They stopped on the small pouch Therane held and both boys froze at once.

"Thief!" the larger, darker boy growled. "That belongs to me."

"You forgot it. I was only-"

"You're a thief and a liar," the boy interrupted, surging forward.

Therane grit his teeth and felt his lips curl. "Take it, then!" The handful of soapsand was flung at the other boy's face and he fell back, bellowing his outrage. But, Caminar traveled in packs, and at their comrade's wounded cry, two more lads came rushing over. They didn't need more than a moment to decide what had happened and what needed to happen next.

Therane did admirably well, holding off two attackers. It was when the first boy recovered enough to join in that he truly became outnumbered. He tried his best, but his fine new shirt was well and truly beyond help by the time they were done with him, and his bottom lip and left eye weren't looking much better. The rafeiro had no interest in going back to his mother and listening to another tirade about manners and places and the time and effort that went into making shirts.

So it was that by the time the bonfire was lit, Therane had found a small and quiet spot off to the side and beneath a tree that cast long shadows. It was from that vantage point, daubing at his aching lip with the cuff of his sleeve, that he watched a gaggle of girls walk through the firelight arm in arm, one with a dress the color of flame and ribbons in her hair, looking out into the night with bright and hopeful eyes.

[Alsivor]

Giggling still at the last joke shared, Hilda bumped her head lightly against Aleda's shoulder. "Do you think your father will have found you a fine husband this turn?" she asked with a coy sidelong glance at her friend.

Aleda tossed her head and pulled her shoulders back. "I'm to be a sabedoria I have no time to think about husbands right now," she said airily. "Even if Father has found someone willing to take me, it will be turns before I'm done with my training. They can wait." Dismisssing the topic as it concerned herself, she turned a bright smile on Hilda. "What about you? Will Andar be waiting tonight by the fire do you think?"

More giggles and titters, Hilda blushing about her betrothed. "We will see!" she exclaimed and made big eyes at her friend. A moment later her lip curled as she spotted Therane beneath his tree, watching him. "Faugh, at least I am lucky enough to have Andar, and he me. And you should take whomever your Father chooses for you Aleda. Otherwise you might get stuck with that trash." Hilda's chin jerked towards the rafeiro lad and she turned a cold shoulder, spat on the ground. "What, did someone hit you in the face? Why don't you run back to your filthy mixed up mother," the girl said sneeringly and she tugged lightly at Aleda. "Come, let's go away from him, Aleda!"

But Aleda resisted tugging even as the bevy of girls passed beyond her. The trailed out, some looking back, others just merely passing on. A few mistrustful looks, one or two outright cusses and most of her friends had reached the fire. Hilda was pulling on her hand again.

"Aleda, come /on/." And Hilda stamped her foot this time. "He smells I don't want to stay near him!"

Aleda's chin came up and she smiled at Hilda. "Go on, I'll catch you up when I'm done here. He's hurt and I need the practice binding up wounds. Don't worry, he can't hurt /me/." And with a toss of her head she pulled her hand away and strode confidently towards the lad.

"I'm training to be a sabedoria," she told him confidently, looking the lanky lad over from pale head to big feet. A moment later she hunkered down in an easy squat, skirts swirling about her feet. "Will you let me tend to your lip?" This last held a note of gentleness to it as she noted the other marks of a scuffle about him and her fingers reached thoughtlessly towards a tear in what was once a nice shirt.

[Tabula Rasa]

He hadn't realized that he was staring until the girls began to stare back. One that had been giggling only a moment before, scowled and called out at insult about his face. In return he leaned forward, widened his eyes so their blueness was even more obvious and shot the young women a grin so big and uninviting that it caused his lip to tear and blood to dribble down his chin. Let them remember that, if they were so keen on making him a threat. When it seemed they would drift away, he leaned back against his tree, closing his eyes. He didn't want to see when the pretty one in the fire gown laughed at her friend's jokes. He didn't want to watch when she walked away and shook him from her thoughts.

Neither did he want the sound of footsteps approaching or those soft and gentle words. A sabedoria. That was all he needed; more clucking and fussing and scolding, only this would be from a girl younger than he was. Therane groaned softly and thumped his head against the trunk of the tree. "Go away, little girl," the boy sighed, lifting his sleeve to wipe his chin clean. It wasn't much use for dresswear anymore. "I don't need any help. I just need a little rest." He cracked one eye open to glower, despite the way he nearly jumped out of his skin when her fingers brushed against his torn shirt. "And privacy."

[Alsivor]

"/Aleda/ don't -- " Hilda broke off staring at her friend wide-eyed. "You are /so/ absorbed by your studies. You're going to ruin yourself with them," her friend fired off the remark huffily and stomped after the others. A few whispers fluttered through the group but Aleda's defection was quickly forgotten under the influence of handsome boys, good food and merry music.

Under the tree, Aleda smiled at the rafeiro lad and ignored his brush-off. "Pay them no mind. They're just full of themselves tonight." With a little wave of her hand, she dismissed the other girls. "I'm Aleda. Apprentice to Sabedoria Giana. Who are you?"

As she spoke she drew out a handkerchief from her pocket, reached forward towards that split lip, hands still gentle. "You need me to look at this. You might need stitches," she points out. "But I can't see with all the blood in the way." Her fingers paused, retreated a little and she looked at his face intently. "I'm no little girl. And if you don't give me a name, I'm going to have to come up with one to call you myself. Maybe 'Proud' or 'Stubborn.'"

[Tabula Rasa]

"Only a sabedoria in training would be so cocky," the boy answered, holding up one hand to ward off that attempt to clean his face. Fingers turned, reaching out for the handkerchief as if he intended to get the job done himself. "I heard what you said before. What makes you think I can't hurt you?" For a moment, the boy leaned a little closer, letting firelight and shadow do strange and unpleasant things to his face. "What makes you think I don't want to?" For a long moment, he held her gaze, pale eyes seeking out dark ones. Then, with a small sigh, he flopped back against the tree.

"You are little. I could lift you with one hand. You've no business at all wearing such a dress." His lips quirked, but with a wince, they relaxed away from that small smile once more. "I don't care what you call me. You shouldn't be here in the first place."

[Alsivor]

"Cocky? Being kind is cocky?" Aleda made wide eyes at the lad and then pursed her lips faintly, entrusted the handkerchief to his care. "You'll need water for that, I do know that much and a little bit of calendula cream will stop your lip from bleeding, keep the split from marring that pretty face of yours."

She sat back on her heels, met that shadow-marked gaze unafraid. "You don't want to hurt me or you already would have," she replied with continued confidence, chin lifting and then she smirked slowly. "And you like me in this dress." Confessional, leaning in just a little and keeping her voice low: "I saw you looking." Beat. Eyeroll. Sigh. "Fine then. If you won't introduce yourself properly, I'll just have to call you Teimo. You know. For 'stubborn'."

With that settled, Aleda pushed up to her feet. "I'm going for that cream. I know you'll probably run off while I'm gone. But I will come find you if you do, so it's better if you just stay put," she warned and with a winsome smile, turned and strode back the way she'd just come.

[Tabula Rasa]

Aleda was given a long and flat look as Therane lifted the kerchief to his mouth and daubed gingerly at the sluggishly trickling blood. "Being kind to me is cocky. Don't insult us both by pretending otherwise."

His attention had drifted away and towards the bonfire, but it snapped back to the sabedoria when she murmured her confession. Blue eyes blinked several times and then dipped down to permit their owner a slow and assessing study of that gown and the curves fitted inside it.

Her scolding caused speculation to dip into another glower. And though he snorted and muttered under his breath (while discreetly enjoying watching that departure in that gown), 'Teimo' was waiting when Aleda returned.

[Alsivor]

Aleda gave him a little look, just shy of coy for that once-over and made her skirts swish extra for his benefit as she walked back to Giana's wagon. She knew right where the ointments were kept, they got plenty of use after all. Arnica for bruises, calendula for cuts, the soft folds of bandaging. On second thought, she brought one of the little kits with her. He might have other injuries that needed tending.

Back out again, with an apron caught up off the hook. It was a new dress and she looked nice in it. She wasn't about to wreck it with bloodstains, rafeiro or otherwise. It didn't take long to rejoin 'Teimo' under the tree and she beamed at him as she drew near. "I should pretend to despise you, shouldn't I?" she said softly as she hunkered back down at his side and reached bold fingers towards his jaw to tilt his face up towards what light there was to see by. "But I don't particularly want to." She dabbed a finger into one of the pots from the kit and moved to apply it to his lip. "Don't lick your lips until after this has sunk in. It doesn't taste very good."

[Tabula Rasa]

"I don't gather," the rafeiro muttered against the bloody and borrowed handkerchief, "pretending's much required." That kit and that apron both got a small frown, and he flinched as his jaw was touched, chin lifted. There was the injured lip, the blackening eye and a scrape along his cheekbone.

He waited until she was done with his mouth before, against her good advice, he gave a tentative lick to his lip. His nose wrinkled immediately, and the boy gave several small coughs before he regained his composure. "Why don't you?" he asked, quiet and sullen.

[Alsivor]

"It would be in my case," Aleda continued as she touched her fingertips lightly to the marks around his eye and reached for another pot. "Will you believe me if I tell you this will burn a little if you get it /in/ your eye?" Teasingly playful that because of that lick. More daubing for that and she eyed the scrape. "I should clean that out with redwort, but it'll sting," she advised him in what she thought was a very professonial way.

Then his question caught her in the middle of picking up the bottle of redwort. "Why should I despise someone I don't know?" Her wrists rested lightly atop her knees in her loose crouch at his side. "You're rafeiro not a true traitor. You can't help the way you were born anymore than I can help having been born a girl with everyone trying to lock me up and tell me what to do and whom to marry." Her head tilted to the side, dark locks spilling over her shoulder and she reached her hand towards that shock of pale hair, to brush it back from his forehead. "Does anywhere else hurt?"

[Tabula Rasa]

"I don't need any of this," the boy protested, squinting as more potives were applied to eye and cheek. "Cuts and bruises never had trouble healing before. You just want to show off."

He fell silent to listen to the rest of her words and then, slowly and carefully for the sake of his lip, Therane allowed his mouth to curl into a slow half smile. "Ahhh," he murmured, quiet comprehension illuminating those light blue eyes.

For her final question, she got another rake of the boy's gaze up and down, despite the apron that obscured much of her figure at the moment. Did anything else hurt? "Yes." His answer was low, voice gone husky.

[Alsivor]

"No it's mostly to prevent scarring you know. Do you want to grow up looking like an old plantado guardsman? And she made a face that was likely meant to convey 'serious' and 'guard-like' but just looked goofy as she finished brushing his hair back.

His silence wiped her face clean of impressions and her eyes met his directly, an answering smile ready on her lips. "You look a lot nicer when you smile you know, cuts and all." Her finger dropped to trace one pale brow, skipped down to the tip of his chin as his tone of voice shifted and he gave her another one of those looks.

"Maybe there's something wrong with your legs and you need helping walking back to the sabedoria's wagon?" Aleda suggested helpfully, eyes all innocence. "After all, you might have internal injuries that you don't know about."

Uh huh.

[Tabula Rasa]

Her impression of a old and pockmarked guardsman called up a laugh which, in turn, caused a wince. "Ah, ow. I thought a sabedoria would know better than to make a patient laugh. A kind one would, at any rate." His own smirk faded, however, at her offer.

There was a moment of consideration when the rafeiro looked around the camp to see how much notice they had garnered. Who was watching. But dancing and drinking and the general cheer of the first night of gather meant a pair of children settled in the shadows had been mostly forgotten. "Maybe there is," he agreed quietly. "Maybe we'd better."

[Alsivor]

"I can't help it. Giana says it's one of my worst flaws. I'm always laughing or making someone laugh," Aleda confessed with a little shrug, clearly not all that sorry at all. "I /can/ be kind though," she murmured more lowly and echoed his gesture, searching shadows and the merriment at a short remove.

"She'll be there, watching for a while in her rocking chair," Aleda murmured, roses suddenly in her cheeks and under the apron, the well-cut bodice of her gown moved fetchingly with rapid breaths. Her voice lifted a little more loudly, just in case on her next words as she busied herself with tidying up the kit. "Come, Teimo. I'll give you a shoulder to lean on and we'll make sure you haven't broken anything," she she said steadily and tucked the kit back under her arm, rose partway and offered him a hand up.