#kapros3

Unplanned hiatusses isn't a word breaks are basically just something I have come to accept, because no way will my ADHD let me post in an orderly and regular schedule. I will skip through these next few posts a little bit, instead of doing really detailed storytelling for absolutely everything, because I have managed to completely creatively block myself. Also, I have progressed to Round 6 in game, and my posts are FAR behind.

Anyway, what happened with Oréktos, after he took in some mysterious strangers? First, he went to the chieftain Méns, and gave him a horse, while Idu's younger brother Yissharu tried - and largely failed - to befriend the chief's sons. A language barrier alone would have made that hard, but that AND a rather significant age gap proved too much of an obstacle.

Afterwards, it was mostly just the newcomers settling in, and Néphe the mare having another foal by one of the many, many wild horses of the island. Also, more births happened, but frankly, so many of the babies die offscreen that I only bother to remember them if they've made it to toddlerhood.

And then there was the small matter of Idu and Oréktos speedrunning their romance. This was not my idea, but entirely guided by the wishes they rolled.

Oréktos felt a little guilty because of his status as a widower who found love again, and became very emotional upon their first kiss, so Idu comforted him, understanding at least some of his inner turmoil.

Poira, in true motherly fashion, butted in at the worst moment possible and wasted no time disapproving.

Idu was a very lively person, but had been sheltered for the past five years. Her late husband had been the first hunter of their tribe, and she had been allowed to do nothing that didn’t directly benefit him or their son. She was used to being more leisurely than she wanted to be, to look her best, make beautiful clothes, even though she had enough of them, look after her child, eagerly anticipate the next one. Her son had only ever known his mother to look after him in any meaningful way, often not seeing his father for days on end. The children living here ... they had the opposite problem.

And so, Idu got to work. Not because it benefitted the man who had taken them in, but because she wanted to. The beneficial nature of her work was merely a byproduct. She felt useful, and alive.

To her relief, her own newfound strength seemed to benefit her son. He had suffered more and longer than the three adults, and Poira had forbidden Orektós strictly from going near him. Since nobody else had gotten sick yet, Idu was ready to believe that her mother was wise.

Idu: “I speak to you.”

Orektós: “Gods! You’ve only been here for a month! How can you already know my language, and I am such an idiot that I still don’t understand a word you say?”

Idu, furrowing her brow: “I am no idiot. Speak slow.”

Orektós, visibly shocked: “Oh, no, no! Not you! Me! I am the idiot.”

Idu, mollified: “I understand, yes. Wait! No! You are good. No idiot!”

Orektós: “Haha, alright, nobody is an idiot here.”

Idu, laughing: “Yes. No idiots.”

Orektós, slowly: “I was praising how smart you are, Idu.”

Idu, still laughing: “Yes, very smart. And humble! And very humble!”

Orektós shifted his weight. Without quite noticing himself, he started trying to appear more to advantage. His subconscious efforts were rewarded with her gaze wandering over his exposed chest just a little longer than it had to. He noticed and felt an intense flutter in his stomach. He felt like he was 15 and trying to talk to his neighbor’s pretty daughter. He half-expected someone to suddenly jump out at him to chase him away with a broom and angry shouting. She was still giggling.

Kleitophôn: “Dad. Dad! You wanted to bring the horse to Méns.”

Orektós: “What? Oh. Mh. Yyyes, thanks. I will go do that. Directly. I will see you later, Idu.”

Idu: “We will see us later.”

Pélagia was only one year younger than Táuros, making them natural companions in these early years of their lives. Their older brother Kleitophôn was a big help, without them knowing it. He had had to grow up fast, help with hunting, help with his younger siblings, help with the horses, especially the foal who had been named after him.

It was tedious, and Klei didn’t like it much, to always be responsible, and to remember their mother much better than either of the young ones. But if he was honest, he didn’t remember her that well, either. Mostly vague feelings and memories, that might have been conjured up by his lingering sadness.

Kleitophôn had no companion. At all.

Idu and Yissharu, had scouted as much of the island as they had been able to, eventually reuniting with their mother Poira and telling her - and each other - about what they had found. Idu had the most exciting news: She had spotted someone’s half crumbled winter shelter on a hill. The island must have frequent visitors, and maybe they could even be found right now!

Poira made her daughter give her a description of where she had seen the shelter, and instructed her children to wait for her signal before following. Should these visitors be unfriendly, the family would only loose the oldest and weakest of them.

Upon getting closer to the hilltop - and ascent that had nearly taken all of Poira’s strength - she was greeted with a problem she had not anticipated. She stranger who was suddenly beside her and supported her weight, spoke in an entirely different dialect than her. She could make out several of his words, learned his name - Orektós - and was able to tell him hers, but other than that, she felt a bit overwhelmed. In her state, with most of her energy spent on staying upright, listening to such a language was very taxing.

Poira: “Your speech is very strange. I barely comprehend you. But you seem friendly enough.”

Orektós: “Was that friendly? And ... something about my mouth? You should really sit down, Poira.”

Poira: “I have a family. My daughter, my grandson, and my son. They are waiting for my sign that it is safe.”

Orektós: “No, you don’t have to leave! It will be fine, you are welcome here.”

Poira: “I think I know the word you said, that is excellent! Unless, of course, you said that fresh slaves were always welcome. In that case, it’s less excellent.”

Orektós: “... this isn’t going anywhere, is it? Kleitophôn? Does Gleûkos have her in sight, just in case?”

Kleitophôn, watching the dog: “Yup.”

Orektós: “So, you keep pointing over there. I’m guessing you didn’t come alone, an elder like yourself. Sooo ... I will ... I will go over there? And fetch them?”

Poira watched him point at himself and the direction she had indicated when speaking of her family, back to himself, back to her family, back to himself. His whole manner seemed very questioning, and Poira no longer found it in herself to match his energy. So, she shrugged. He gently patted her shoulders and strode off towards Idu and Yissharu.

Poira looked at the child he’d left her with, then at the dog. It would be a damn shame if they brought their disease to these kind strangers, but perhaps ... perhaps it would turn out alright. Maybe Idu was right, and it had been something in their food.

Idu had not understood the strange man that had gestured for them to follow, but she was rewarded for her trust. She man had the best-looking dog she had ever seen! With white, thick fur, it seemed more suited to winter, but she admired it. Loudly.

Idu had not felt this hopeful in weeks. The man had gestured to nearby lights in the dark, apparently he was part of a small group of families that lived here. And they had tamed horses! It was all quite amazing.

Idu: “Thank you, gentle one! You have saved our lives, I’m sure.”

Orektós: “You are such an elegant-looking woman, however came you to this island? You belong in a huge house, as some important man’s wife, for sure.”

Idu: “In the name of all my family, too, my dear old mother and my son, especially. My late husband would never have taken so big a risk, just to help strangers!”

Orektós: “You know, I’m almost getting used to hearing you talk. I haven’t got a clue what you’re saying, but your voice is ... beautiful.”

Idu: “Wait. That word. Did you call me beautiful?”

Orektós: “Uhm. We should prepare the tents and shelters.”

Somehow, he made do.

Orektós had lost his wife, but not his future. Their children were alive. Her beloved horse, Néphe, was alive. It was now his duty to make sure all of this - all of her life - had not been in vain. 

Not too far away, four strangers landed ashore. Poira looked around at the pale faces of her little family. Her second oldest daughter, Idu, and youngest son Yissharu, were all that remained of Poira’s children. She tried to cling to the thought that these two, at least, had a chance. Things were looking much worse for Idu’s son Rusa, who had lost his father to the disease already, and was showing the heaviest symptoms of the four of them. The old woman was aware of how lucky she had been, to have made it this far, but she was yet more grateful that they were no longer cooped up on a tiny boat. Not while she still had the feeling that the world spinned around her at every movement.

Idu: “I am telling you, mother, it must have been the food. If we gather new food here, it will be clean, and we will all survive and get better.”

Yissharu: “Speak for yourself, I feel as if I’ve perished already and you are dragging around my corpse. Every time it’s quiet, I think somebody else died. Never thought I’d found the sound of retching or someone having the runs comforting.”

Poira: “Settle down, child. Your sister may be right, and we all should pray that she is. We can not afford to loose anybody else. How is your son, Idu?”

Idu: “He is hanging on. Let us ... wander inland? Look for clean water, and something to eat?”

Poira: “You go ahead, children, you are much faster than me. My pace will be slow, but I will follow, don’t you worry.