[Yunari] Spirit Walk (Part 1 of 3)
Sunlight trickled through the leaves of the high canopy, dripping slowly down from bough to bough, running down trunk to root to mossy earth, moving as slowly and inevitably as the sweat prickling its way between Yunari's shoulders and down her back. Her forehead and arms were damp, too, the moisture not doing much besides plastering her shirt and fur to her body. It was too humid, too hot here, and the air hung heavy around her with no hint of a breeze.
She sighed, not having the breath to complain further as she half walked, half waded through the dense heat toward the river. Insects hummed and buzzed in her ears as she neared the bank, fading in and out as she set the heavy pot down and buried her face in the tepid flow. The water, only a touch cooler than the surrounding air, tugged at her braid lazily. It couldn't be bothered to try dragging her under, not today: even the river spirit, it seemed, was stifled by the still heat.
After a moment, Yunari lifted her head, taking a deep breath or still just as thick and unsatisfying as before, and hauled her sodden braid from the water. It was heavy, the added weight pulling on her scalp as it swung behind her, and she reached up to undo it, letting the long strands spread out in a wild tangle across her back and shoulders. Her hair was unlikely to dry quickly in this heat, and she wondered briefly if she would start to sprout moss like a forest troll.
Probably not, she decided, turning back to the pot she'd tossed aside. There were insects crawling over the crusted stew remains inside, and she shook them out before leaning over the edge of the river and dipping the pot beneath the water's surface. The sluggish flow only loosened the stew a bit, but after a minute or three, darting silver shapes came to investigate, soon scouring the rough dark metal clean. She watched the school disperse as swiftly as it had arrived, then hauled the pot back up and out, upending it on the bank. It, too, would take time to dry. Now for her other task.
The herb pouch at her side held most of the necessary ingredients, already prepared, and the troll hummed to herself as she ground them together, crushing the leaves, dried roots, and dusty fungus to a fine powder. The mixture clung to her fingers as she poured it into a shallow bowl and reached into her bag for another, wading out into the river to fill the second bowl from the stronger flow at the center. Peeling off her damp skirt and laying it aside, she crouched over her work, adding a bit of the river water, stirring, pouring, shaking the concoction gently to swirl the contents together. A pinch of salt for earth and ash for fire next, and a bright bit of feather and the off-key, ragged end of a tune for air. Her singing was clumsy, but adequate, and the river itself would serve for water here.
At last satisfied with her work, Yunari set the mixture aside, and struck a fire on a bare patch of earth. The flames sputtered and complained but an offering of dry star wood held them steady, and she settled herself cross-legged before them, ignoring the added heat and throat-stinging smoke as she gazed into the fire. A deep breath, eyes half shut, to clear her mind.
She reached for the bowl, lifted it carefully, and drank.
The hot, heavy air pressed down around her suddenly, with an intensity that would have forced her to the ground had she not been sitting already. Hissing water, chirping clacking insects, the sparking crackle of the fire, all intensified to a rushing roar, howling, washing over her, through her, drowning out all thought. She tried to close her eyes, couldn't, and instead--
--opens them.
Yunari notes with interest that she is standing now, though she can't remember rising. A glance downward, and she amends her previous thought to 'standing above her body'. The troll/herself sitting on the ground at her feet appears to be breathing, and after a long moment of watching its/her chest rise and fall, she turns her attention to the fire spirit beside her.
Fire snaps and grins at her, coal-black eyes and ash-white teeth showing bright and amused. "Took ya long enough, ay?"
She nods, eyeing the figure up and down. Not quite troll-shaped, but close enough, with spiky red flames curling up instead of hair, bright blue sparks curving into long, gnarled tusks like streaks of lightning.
"Practice," she says, rolling her not-shoulders with a not-sigh. "I got more to learn."
He nods, grinning wider, stroking his chin with a fiery hand. "Well, then." He holds out a hand, sparks leaping from the fingertips. She supposes it's the closest he can get to fingernails.
"What ya gonna pay?"
She sighed, not having the breath to complain further as she half walked, half waded through the dense heat toward the river. Insects hummed and buzzed in her ears as she neared the bank, fading in and out as she set the heavy pot down and buried her face in the tepid flow. The water, only a touch cooler than the surrounding air, tugged at her braid lazily. It couldn't be bothered to try dragging her under, not today: even the river spirit, it seemed, was stifled by the still heat.
After a moment, Yunari lifted her head, taking a deep breath or still just as thick and unsatisfying as before, and hauled her sodden braid from the water. It was heavy, the added weight pulling on her scalp as it swung behind her, and she reached up to undo it, letting the long strands spread out in a wild tangle across her back and shoulders. Her hair was unlikely to dry quickly in this heat, and she wondered briefly if she would start to sprout moss like a forest troll.
Probably not, she decided, turning back to the pot she'd tossed aside. There were insects crawling over the crusted stew remains inside, and she shook them out before leaning over the edge of the river and dipping the pot beneath the water's surface. The sluggish flow only loosened the stew a bit, but after a minute or three, darting silver shapes came to investigate, soon scouring the rough dark metal clean. She watched the school disperse as swiftly as it had arrived, then hauled the pot back up and out, upending it on the bank. It, too, would take time to dry. Now for her other task.
The herb pouch at her side held most of the necessary ingredients, already prepared, and the troll hummed to herself as she ground them together, crushing the leaves, dried roots, and dusty fungus to a fine powder. The mixture clung to her fingers as she poured it into a shallow bowl and reached into her bag for another, wading out into the river to fill the second bowl from the stronger flow at the center. Peeling off her damp skirt and laying it aside, she crouched over her work, adding a bit of the river water, stirring, pouring, shaking the concoction gently to swirl the contents together. A pinch of salt for earth and ash for fire next, and a bright bit of feather and the off-key, ragged end of a tune for air. Her singing was clumsy, but adequate, and the river itself would serve for water here.
At last satisfied with her work, Yunari set the mixture aside, and struck a fire on a bare patch of earth. The flames sputtered and complained but an offering of dry star wood held them steady, and she settled herself cross-legged before them, ignoring the added heat and throat-stinging smoke as she gazed into the fire. A deep breath, eyes half shut, to clear her mind.
She reached for the bowl, lifted it carefully, and drank.
The hot, heavy air pressed down around her suddenly, with an intensity that would have forced her to the ground had she not been sitting already. Hissing water, chirping clacking insects, the sparking crackle of the fire, all intensified to a rushing roar, howling, washing over her, through her, drowning out all thought. She tried to close her eyes, couldn't, and instead--
--opens them.
Yunari notes with interest that she is standing now, though she can't remember rising. A glance downward, and she amends her previous thought to 'standing above her body'. The troll/herself sitting on the ground at her feet appears to be breathing, and after a long moment of watching its/her chest rise and fall, she turns her attention to the fire spirit beside her.
Fire snaps and grins at her, coal-black eyes and ash-white teeth showing bright and amused. "Took ya long enough, ay?"
She nods, eyeing the figure up and down. Not quite troll-shaped, but close enough, with spiky red flames curling up instead of hair, bright blue sparks curving into long, gnarled tusks like streaks of lightning.
"Practice," she says, rolling her not-shoulders with a not-sigh. "I got more to learn."
He nods, grinning wider, stroking his chin with a fiery hand. "Well, then." He holds out a hand, sparks leaping from the fingertips. She supposes it's the closest he can get to fingernails.
"What ya gonna pay?"