Dzie’wanna’s eyes slid open as the first rays of the sun skimmed over the waves and beach, hitting the tend and sneaking through the crack between ground and cloth on the floor. She looked at Quetz’le, still sleeping, and felt a insanely wide grin stretch and pull at her face until she was smiling like a fool. For a moment, she let herself enjoy it before thoughts came full circle and informed her that more important things should be thought of. For one, she would have to show some deference to the elders, though that wasn’t a pleasant thought. As Quetz’le had said, she had left because she would have been more miserable if she had stayed those six years ago. She could still remember, walking over the broken plates of Durotat, the moon still out and her husband just buried. It had felt like freedom that night, no longer having to worry about what was the womanly thing to do or what was best for the tribe.
Of course, there had been hard times. Things did not get better until three years later when fighting alongside the Tauren at Camp Turajo in the Barrens. There she had met her good friends, common spirits, who she had fought with for the next three years. It was as if things were coming all around, a full circle that was whole and filling in the blanks. Leaving, finding bits of herself, and coming back to find more of herself.
Her fingers brushed against the small doll-like totem, still around Quetz’le’s neck on the old string. It had been a gift from her after her father had told her her time of training was at a end. The fact that Quetz’le kept it all this time… She gave a small sigh as her three fingers spread across the chest of Quetz’le, her palm pressed against where his heart was. She had been selfish, of course. But so had he back then.
Hearing sounds of drums, Dzie’wanna sat up and got dressed, quickly winding the bandages around her chest and arms before sliding on her leather pants and ankle guards. Today wasn’t yet ready for full battle gear, and she preferred to not wear the heavy mail when it wasn’t required. It felt suffocating, odd to wear such solid and cumbersome gear.
She rolled her neck and shoulders, then pulled aside the flaps of the tent to head out. Her foot, about to take a step forward, stopped in mid air and slowly put itself back beside her other one. Standing in front of the tent with his arms crossed and a viscious look in his eyes was Tsistu. A moment of silence passed as they looked at each other, her taking in the changes that had happened over the last six years, and him just glaring at her.
“So, first thing you do is sleep with my teacher when you’re back, huh? Not even visit dad’s grave, or me?” He spat out, ending the silence as he jutted out his tusks and ground his teeth. Dzie’wanna stilled, her shoulders rising and her face falling into her normal passively stern expression. Before she could speak, she heard a groan and a couple mumbles from behind her.
“Ah, Tsistu. How are you this morning?”
Dzie’wanna’s shoulder twitched, trying to reing in either laughter or the need to punch Quetz’le. Tsistu turned his glare to Quetz’le.
“Is that all you have to say? After sleeping with my mother and not even informing me that she was here? Oh, sure, let’s ignore the son that she abandoned years ago! It’s a lot easier that way, isn’t it?”
Quetz’le looked at Dzie’wanna, raising an eyebrow. “You didn’t go to see your son first?”
“I did not mean to stay here that long.” She shifted her weight from her right to left foot, changing her posture. He moaned as he rubbed his temples, then he looked up at Tsistu.
“Come back in a couple minutes. I will be dressed at that point and be better to talk. And honestly my little frog, you need to think stuff through a little more.”
Tsistu turned his back and sat down in front of the door flap as Dzie’wanna gave a nod towards Quetz’le. She then pulled her mouth into a strange pout and pucker, and a smooth whistle wove through the air causing both Tsistu’s and Quetz’le’s ears to twitch. Dzie’wanna stepped around Tsistu and into the sun, stretched her arms out, and the next moment a barreling thousand pound beast of fur came barreling at her. The two men stared as the white and blue tiger and Dzie’wanna wrestled on the ground, kicking up some dust and scraping claws into the ground. Quetz’le just muttered, shook his head, and closed the door flap to get dressed.
After a couple minutes the door had opened again and they all were sitting in a circle, the teenager looking grumpy, Quetz’le torn between amusement and annoyance, and Dzie’wanna sitting with the large cat stretched out behind her supporting her back, curled up around her and purring in pure contented joy while both her and it were covered in dust and scrapes.
“Echo needed her morning exercise.” Dzie’wanna said, by way of explanation. “She gets rather anxious when cooped up in one place, and I cannot let her go running around here.” The danger of the Echo Isles was implied.
“Yes yes, that’s fine. I can see you have become a fine hunter. Far beyond old Quetz’le.” He placed a hand over his chest, his expression a perfect mockery of the pain of old age.
Dzie’wanna just blinked. “Of course.”
Tsistu raised his eyebrow in slow motion as an awkward silence landed, Dzie’wanna being oblivious. Then, Quetz’le gave a snort and a loud bark of laughter. “Ah, how I missed your straight forward talk!”
“Great, wonderful. Look, can we focus here?” The white haired youth grit out, crossing his arms and now glowering at everyone in the room, including the cat. Echo just gave him a bored look and yawned at him, her rows of teeth flashing in the room. Tsistu focused his glare at the other two occupants of the room. Quetz’le scratched the back of his head as Dzie’wanna shifted again, agitated, before she looked up at Quetz’le in sudden realization.
“Did you not tell him you are his father?”
Tsistu facepalmed as Quetz’le continued his gesture. Before he could speak, Tsistu drawled out his own response. “Like I couldn’t put two and two together. I realized that when I was ten. I mean, I suspected since I was five, but the point stands that I am not a mind slave. I can think.”
Dzie’wanna gave a nod, looking relieved along with Quetz’le. He shrugged and smiled at Dzie’wanna. “I never told him, but I did treat him like a son. I-”
“You used the excuse that my father died to treat me like I was your son. I know, can we move on to what my lovely mother did?” The vitriol was spat out with such a sarcastic flare, that the bottom’s of the tent almost curled in on itself from it. The two adults stared at him with wide eyes. Dzie’wanna sighed and gave Quetz’le a look, then he stood up and ducked out of the tent. The mother and son sat across from each other.
“Tsistu.” Her eyes met his evenly, searching in the corner’s and nooks and crannies of them before nodding. She shifted, leaning over to pull her pack to her, then ruffled through it. She pulled out a smooth dagger, curved and dulled so that the light didn’t glint off of it. She held it out to him.
“I heard you were training in combat and stealth.”
He stared at the blade, his mouth falling open before he reached out, his hand caressing the blade and brushing against his mother’s palm before wrapping his fingers around the handle. He held it close to himself, looking at the design in awe before looking up at her. “How-?”
“I have kept track of things back here. After three years, my friend’s insisted that I should try and reconnect with my home. I mostly ignored their advice, but I did feel the need to check on you and Quetz’le.” She watched him run a thick calloused finger along the blade, testing the edge and examining the detail of a rabbit in full run stretched out across one side, a snake on the other. “I found it among the ruins of the Witherbark tribe, within the Hinterlands.”
“Thank you.” He said, awkwardly trying to recover from the unexpected gift. He hadn’t expected anything. After all, how many times had his aunt talked about his mother as one who had no heart, who didn’t care? All he had was vague memories of stiff hugs, and a clear memory of her framed by the ocean looking over the horizon with such a look of longing that as a child he had started crying, afraid that the loa of the sea was calling his mother away from him like in the legends.
They sat in silence, peacefully accepting the other’s presence. He usually didn’t like to talk, though he did so with others (a side result was that as he had to talk, he often talked in a bad mood with a good deal of sarcasm involved). Dzie’wanna stood after a few moments, Echo lumbering up on her paws as well, and she pulled out her own dagger. “Do you wish to train?”
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Isondo was not happy. Her mistress had not come back, she was being hit on by perverted teenagers and adults alike, and the sea salt in the air had made her hair frizz out in a purple matt down her back. Sassaba was bouncing around, wanting to look for their lady (and oh loa, she was calling the jungle whelp lady! In her mind! She did not want to deal with the maybe a little bit of fondness she might have for the troll woman who rescued her from, no no, who stole her from Northrend. Yes, she had already been captured and was about to be sold, but she had a plan to escape! Maybe. Oh, who was she fooling? Thank goodness she had not met any Drakkari over here yet, she wouldn’t be able to handle the shame).
As yet another troll came up with a lecherous look on his… wait, no, it was a her this time… on her face, Isondo groaned and marched up to one of the commanders in charge of handing out orders. “I will gather frogs, right now! Anything! Please just give me something!”
The troll blinked before grinning and handing her an assignment. Isondo barely glanced at just where she had to go before darting off in the direction needed.
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*Author’s Talk*
Short one today, will be a looong one next time I post! :D
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