Miniwrimo seventeenish
"I..." the words didn't want to form, even in Kamenan. She exhaled sharply out her nose, not quite a snort, but still short and full of frustrated energy expelled forcefully in an attempt to rid herself of the feelings. "If you don't mind." She finally limped out.
Silfiya didn't mind at all.
With her exploring officially sanctioned, Sray planned to be out the whole day. She debated on packing her shoulder bag or simply filling her pockets, trying to decide which would allow her the most freedom of movement. She moved things from pockets to bag and back again, shouldering the pack, rolling her shoulders, flexing muscles as she imagined the terrain she might be covering, how it would affect what she would be carrying and how that in turn would affect her ability to maneuver. In the end she decided the bag across her back would be the most secure and inobtrusive.
Kem had kept a suspicious eye on Sray on Seltan. "What are you up to?" She finally questioned before turning in for the night.
"Just putting some studying in for the next few hours." Sray replied, knowing full well that was not what Kem was fishing for. "Mr. Shtorpfyl gave me a book to go through on animal husbandry and his extra notes take some time to decifer."
"I mean tomorrow." Kem frowned back, looking a little hurt. "Are you going somewhere with Mr. Shtorpfyl, again?"
"No." She replied, turning a page in the book.
"What are you doing then?" Kem pressed. "Just walking with Silfiya DeTauwr." Another short, uninformative answer.
"You're making a lot of preparations for just a walk." The young woman observed pointedly.
Sray closed the book and finally focused on Kem with full attention. She ran her tongue along the inside of her teeth as Kem watched her expectantly. "Would you like to come?"
Kem sat up, suddenly emergized at the offer. "Really?" She asked in disbelief.
"Yes. Silfiya might appreciate the company when I get to a place she can't follow."
Kem cocked her head. "Can't follow?"
"You'll see tomorrow," Sray assured her. "You should get some sleep."
"You sound more Ela'yan than you used to."
"Do I?"
"Yes."
She considered this information. "I guess I have been using it more. They're rubbing off on me, how everyone else speaks it."
"There's the Kamenan." He smiled.
Gaelin Sabolden was a crusty old man. He was born the first year Engama had students. Nebreiyefid Hillenbohn was Hafitch until Gaelin was 17, almost finished with his required years. He views Mishor as a bit unconventional, but respects his authority.
"It seems the previous instructor has been over Traveshaer's fables already," he didn't even awknowledge Dafid Dentill by name as he looked down his nose at his notes before continuing in his raspy voice. "Next will be the works of Insertnamehere, who chronicled the exploits of Jorgin Kamelo'an and his people." He frowned. "Mr. Mishor insists on an old translation, not what I learned back in the day, but different times now, I suppose." He didn't seem entirely pleased with this, but shrugged it off and went on.
The Getier burn their dead. The belief is they are releasing the spirit from the physical form. Reducing it all to ash allows the soul to rejoin the organizers to be resorted again. I don't know if they believe in reincarnation or a physical afterlife.