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Worth a Tick or Two
Topic Started: Aug 25 2012, 07:23 PM (627 Views)
Saya Sil Rumore
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Redwood Hermit
By midday, Saya Sil had already scoped out the area and ruled it as suitable. Though she still had several challenges ahead in terms of gathering resources, constructing a home, and stockpiling the food and supplies she would require for a potentially long and bitter winter, finding a location was the first step in setting up a new life. The sheridan girl gathered her knee-length, white hair from around her shoulders and allowed it to fall neatly against her back.

In retrospect, acquiring a living space in the northern part of the Red Woodlands had been remarkably easy. She happened upon a lump sum of cash entirely by mistake, negotiated the construction of her forest home over the course of a single day, and spent a maximum of ten minutes speaking with other people daily until the site was designated complete. Naturally, Saya Sil - then thirteen years of age - played no role in the physical arrangement of her building. She didn't plan to chop any wood or hammer any nails this time, either. There had to be an effective alternative... Unfortunately, that meant asking for help.

Thus, her first move was to search the surrounding forests for a town or village. Unless she could find a willing party to construct her new home, Saya Sil would spend the winter in a cave. The more she considered the pains of setting foot in a village after all these months, the less deadly the northern forests seemed. Her old shack had always protected her from danger; perhaps if she hadn't climbed out the window in a panic, it would have remained secure. Still, the thought of returning left her with about the same level of anxiety. The threats to the north were concrete, rooted in her own experiences - bands of spear-wielding crusaders with uncertain intentions (but at least one instance of kidnapping a sheridan), a being made of fire with the power to engulf an entire section of the redwood forest, and a strange, cursed region in the middle of Knives where shadows played violent tricks on unsuspecting travelers. At least the lands to the south still hadn't given Saya Sil her baptism of fear.

She stared down at her bare right hand in silence. Just the previous night, her arm acted of its own accord and attempted to strangle her. She narrowly escaped with her life. Fortunately, Saya Sil's small body had always been quite frail, and it didn't take much even for her to injure herself. Her wrist still ached where she attempted to crush it that night. Since then, her body behaved as she expected it to. The mystic possession seemed to have been thwarted.

In that moment on the cusp of life and death when Saya Sil faced the wrath of nature, she discovered something inside her heart: the one fear which exceeded all others, that of nothingness. To cease to exist terrified her in ways that negotiating with a construction contractor could never do. If she had to overcome her cowardice to survive, she would do just that.
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Saya Sil Rumore
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Redwood Hermit
The sheridan's search brought her to the outskirts of a quaint little village nestled in the heart of the woodlands. Though she had expected to find a colony of horned sheridans like herself, the village was populated almost exclusively by humans. She clasped a hand over her heart as she stood near the edge of town and considered whether to keep searching or take her chances with humanity. A moustached man with a pair of overalls holding his belly in place smiled and waved at her from afar. He and his wife stood outside their barn, evidently just enjoying the weather. Saya Sil lowered her head and walked right past them into the village. The woman wished her a good afternoon, but she didn't - and couldn't - reply.

In this manner, Saya Sil avoided contact with every person she passed on the street. The village was so small it could be called insignificant in comparison with Knives' capital city of Svalbard to the north, so within ten minutes, she had already traversed the entire town and caught the attention of half its population. A pair of boys trailed an acceptably "safe" distance behind her after she ignored their greetings as well. It wasn't far enough to keep her from overhearing their comments about her mismatched horns, however. Her cheeks tensed as tears welled up in her eyes. Every village was exactly the same, she realized. No matter how far she traveled, this was the reality of her world.

Saya Sil broke into a sprint without warning. The startled voices of the two boys disappeared into the wind beating against her face as tears and her disheveled, white hair trailed out behind her.
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Saya Sil Rumore
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As Saya Sil neared the village borders, she slowed to an unsteady halt. She forced her eyes closed and wiped the tears away with the back of her hand. Though she claimed to have developed a new resolve, the same patterns controlled her life. The slightest comment was enough to shatter any confidence she managed to muster. Like this, Saya Sil would never have a new home; she would have to roam the wilderness day and night, struggling just to survive - and when winter came, it would usher in her final hours. The sheridan girl clutched her stomach to dull the pain welling up inside it.

"Hey, are you crying...?" At the sound of a voice over her shoulder, Saya Sil tensed up. She whirled around with her narrow lips tightly sealed and stared at the speaker through blurry, wet eyes. It was an older human male - by Saya Sil's estimate, easily five years her senior. Rather than voicing her reply and revealing the extent of her fear, she frantically shook her head.

"Are you sure?" he pried. "If something's bothering you, maybe I can help." Saya Sil fiercely shook her head again. This time, the man grinned doubtfully and shrugged his shoulders. "Alright, suit yourself."

The man's thin beard formed a nearly perfect triangle beneath his lower lip. His black hair stood out like the shadows which nearly murdered Saya Sil in the forest to the north - an image she didn't welcome. Even so, as he turned to walk away, she gulped.

"I... I'm trying to earn some money..." she said in a faint voice. The man turned his head, but by the way he cocked his head, she realized he hadn't heard her. "I said... I'm trying to earn some money... To buy a home... C... Can you help me?"

"Oh? Aren't you from Gerring?" he replied. The astonishment emerging in his eyes made Saya Sil still more uncomfortable with the situation. She hadn't volunteered to share personal details with this man; all she needed was a brief piece of advice. She defaulted to the less stressful means of shaking her head this time, and the man folded his arms.

"My mistake, then. But don't you have a home wherever you come from?" His continuing sequence of questions made her heart skip and her back teeth grind. Saya Sil averted her eyes and lowered her head. When she answered, her voice was hardly even a mumble.

"Far away," she said. The man lowered his head, too, as he leaned in.

"It's alright if you don't want to talk about it," he assured her. This incredible display of politeness made her scarlet red eyes wide. He hadn't even commented on the differing length of her horns. "I might know a job for you, but..." The man glanced up at the sun, squinting his eyes. "It could already be too late."

Saya Sil's lips curled downward, and she cast her eyes back down at the man's feet. In the end, of course she had arrived too late for her one opportunity. She considered dashing off just like before, but that would forfeit all of her efforts thus far. At a minimum, she had to hear what else the human had to say.

"Tell me..." she whispered. He stuck his tongue between his front teeth and licked across the top row as he considered the information he wanted to impart.

"There's a traveling artist in town this week named Lou Frank," he explained. "He's trying to find a female subject for his next work or something. I don't know much about it, but I do know he's still accepting applicants this afternoon. If you hurry, you might catch him before he leaves town."

"W... Where...?" she whispered without making eye contact. The man turned to the side and pointed down the street. It was in the direction from which she'd entered the village.

"All the way on the other side of town, at Gregory Vernisa's barn. You'll see Gregory and his wife Francine front if he's still taking people. Lou Frank doesn't like them coming in their own barn while he interviews his applicants. The guy likes his privacy, I guess." Saya Sil shuddered when she realized she had already crossed paths with the couple in question. She might have ruined her chances by ignoring the woman's greeting, but it couldn't be helped. The thought of speaking even to this man with whom she was currently engaged in a real conversation made her weak in the knees. She sank her teeth into her lower lip and broke past him in a sudden sprint.

"You're welcome!" the man called after her. Saya Sil passed the two critical boys on her way back to the barn. Though both paid her a moment's notice, they didn't utter a word.
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Saya Sil Rumore
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When Saya Sil came to a halt before the red-walled barn, she clasped her hands in front of her body and stared at the dirt between Gregory and Francine Vernisa. After about ten seconds of awkward silence, the farmer's wife spoke up.

"How can we help you, dear?" she asked. Saya Sil froze. As she began to stammer her intent, none of the correct words came to fruition. She fell short without communicating anything meaningful, and when she glanced up, Gregory wore a dubious expression. His patient wife continued to smile as she waited for Saya Sil to explain herself. Fortunately, this high-tension situation was interrupted by a young woman practically blowing out the barn doors. Her long, brown hair was collected in a tidy braid which glided behind her as she raced out into the street and pushed past Saya Sil. From just a glimpse of the girl's damp, red face, it was evident that she had already bawled her eyes out.

A slender man wearing black from head to toe, including an unseasonable scarf and a black cushion cap emerged from the barn following her with none of the same urgency. His rigid chin protruded from his jaw like a boulder waiting to tumble down a mountainside, and his narrow, gray eyes gave cruel assessment to everything in his sight. The scowl on his face made Saya Sil cower.

"You," he demanded. "Come with me." The farmer and his wife glanced between the sheridan and this darkly clothed man in wonder. When she didn't budge - as she couldn't will her legs to do so - the wife restored her usual smile and offered some encouragement.

"Oh, dear, why didn't you tell me you were here for Mr. Frank's painting? No wonder! You're such a beautiful young woman, after all." The farmer beside her chuckled and shared his wife's smile. It became apparent that the unimpressed human standing in the barn's enormous doorway was the traveling painter, Lou Frank, and that he had decided to speak with Saya Sil about his next work. She hadn't missed her chance after all. Of course, she still couldn't move her legs.

"Y... Yes..." she said feebly, stalling for time. All eyes were fixed on her.
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Saya Sil Rumore
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Saya Sil didn't stop running until she could no longer see the humans' village over her shoulder. As this portion of the Red Woodlands was quite thin, the distance she had to cover exceeded her usual comfort zone. She curled up under a redwood tree and spilled fresh tears into the soil. Even after making such strides toward earning money and a home to call her own, Saya Sil couldn't take the final step. She blamed the artist's menacing chin and his hateful glare, but even she realized that the fundamental problem was her own insecurity. How could she get past such a basic component of her personality?

She continued to lament her failure until the suns disappeared behind the trees, feeding her to the shadows of the night. By that time, she had entered the sniffling state of fragile peace which often followed her all-out fits. She waited until she could breathe fairly regularly before standing to stroll around the forest. Exposure to nature always provided an outlet for her anxiety unlike any other.

Still, she had dashed her only chance. If she understood the man in town correctly, the artist Lou Frank would leave the village after today. She would have to seek out another job opportunity, and this time, it wouldn't require so little interaction as posing for a painting. Saya Sil only had to imagine herself working in a restaurant for an instant before she dreaded the coming morning.
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Saya Sil Rumore
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After a fitful night's sleep, Saya Sil rose with the sun to revisit the nearby village. She made a point of entering from a different direction to avoid the Vernisas' barn, but as soon as she passed into its borders, she wished she hadn't. A few men and women gathered on the street recognized her and immediately pointed Saya Sil out to their guest, an armored guard from Svalbard. She recognized the crest of Knives in a heartbeat. The guard gave the sheridan a suspicious glower as she scurried past with her head bowed. She stiffened when he called out to her.

"You, sheridan!" he barked. She hesitantly peered over at the group. The guard stomped away from the villagers with one hand on the hilt of his sword. Saya Sil's heart threatened to quit at that exact moment - to leave her body to pump its own blood rather than hang around for an execution.

"Y... Yes...?" she replied, already trembling.

"What do you think you're doing here?" he demanded of her. The guard wore the same scowl as the artist. If screaming wouldn't worsen her situation, she would have shrieked and fled the scene before taking another breath.

"I... I..." she stammered. "Just... Looking for..."

"Lou Frank's looking for you. Said he's going to raise hell if he doesn't find the white-haired sheridan who was here the other day." Saya Sil covered her mouth with a hand. Her eyes shook in their sockets as she struggled to comprehend the meaning of this. "Well? Are you here to see him or what?"

The sheridan gave a frightened nod that left her jaw quivering. The guard just shook his head and heaved a sigh.

"Young women these days," he griped. "Come along. We'd better head straight to the Vernisas' farm before Frank throws a tantrum."
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Saya Sil Rumore
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Escorted by the terrifying man in armor, Saya Sil soon returned to Gregory Vernisa's barn with her head even lower than the previous afternoon. The farmer and his wife were no longer stationed outside, but when the soldier called out Gregory's name, the heavyset man came waddling out. Saya Sil focused on the sound of her heartbeat in her ears while the two men discussed what to do with her. She pulled her fur coat a little tighter over her body despite the warmth of the late summer's day, covering everything down to her thighs. She didn't even realize when the men expected her to follow them into the barn since their conversation was practically inaudible over her internal dialogue. She stumbled into line behind them after a stern order from the soldier.

Once inside the barn, the farmer showed Saya Sil to a seat near a horse's stall while he and the guard retrieved the traveling artist. She wasn't convinced she would still be around when he arrived - as the chill in her stomach and the accelerating rhythm of her breathing seemed to imply a coming panic attack. Saya Sil anticipated the worst outcomes of her encounter with the artist: utter denial of her worth, sending her out the door in tears like the girl before her; a violent attempt at racist vengeance for the artist's wife who was slain by a sheridan shaman; or perhaps he would take a seat across from her and say nothing at all, just waiting until she broke down in fear.

"Good morning," the grumpy-faced artist greeted her. She snapped out of her uncontrolled mental scenery and discovered that he was, in fact, sitting on a wooden stool across from her already with one leg crossed over the other. Just like the previous evening, he wore solid black today. She pictured the shadows in the forest taunting her, swatting at her for hours while she whimpered to herself.

"G... Good..." she replied quietly. She swallowed hard without finishing the response. Lou Frank raised his eyebrows, but he didn't have a remark to go with the gesture.

"As I'm sure you've heard, I'm looking for a model for my next piece," he explained. The artist gestured with one hand, holding an open palm in her direction. "The redwoods of Knives are the setting, so I've traveled all this way for inspiration. I need a model who can make that scenery work, you know what I mean?" Instead of answering, Saya Sil just let her eyes bounce left and right.

"Anyway, this is the thing - when I saw you outside, I thought to myself, 'This is the one.' You look the part." Again, Saya Sil remained silent. His scowl tightened further. "You don't talk much, do you?" She desperately shook her head. The artist rubbed his forehead with a sigh quite like the guard's.

"Well, that's fine," Lou Frank continued. "It's better if you don't talk. You'll mess up my work."
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Saya Sil Rumore
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The job description was simple: Saya Sil would report to the barn each day after lunch, at which time she and Lou Frank would walk together to a location he selected as inspiration for his painting. Once they arrived, she would pose however he directed and remain as still as possible until asked to do otherwise. Each session would last approximately three to four hours. He made no estimate as to how many days this job would take, saying only that the master's work moves at whatever pace it moves. She could count on work only until the painting was completed to Lou's satisfaction.

As for compensation, the artist offered her twenty ticks per hour. She had never worked for money, so Saya Sil had almost no experience to measure the value of her wages. She didn't even count the sack of money she found up north before she presented it to the construction agency; as the sheridan recalled, she shuffled shyly into the building, placed the burdensome bag on the reception counter, and asked the woman waiting there if it would be enough to build a house. Apparently, it was.

She would start work immediately. Hearing her growling stomach, the artist made a disdainful frown. He excused himself for a moment to speak with the farmer, and before Saya Sil knew what was happening, the man's pleasant wife led her into their home beside the hay-strewn barn. Their house was dwarfed by the expansive building next door, but its cozy atmosphere made up for what it lacked in size. The kitchen filled with warm scents of cinnamon, eggs, and freshly baked bread put Saya Sil at ease despite the woman standing in the same room just a dozen feet away. She gasped when a plate full of food appeared on the table before her.

"Eat up, miss," said the farmer's wife with a wink. Saya Sil tried to thank her, but the usual stammer bubbled out instead. She settled for a firm nod and grabbed the speckled silverware on the table. As she worked at her plate, the woman set the table for three more people. If she finished her meal quickly enough, Saya Sil hoped she could slip out of the room...

By the time she made it to her eggs - prepared such that the yolk smiled up at her - the farmer, his wife, and the artist Lou Frank had all joined her at the table. She lowered her head and delicately passed small bites of food between her lips as though one of the humans might strike her for eating too fast.
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Saya Sil Rumore
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"What's your name, girl?" the artist asked beside her. She glanced in his direction and noticed that he hadn't taken off his cushion cap for the meal.

"S... Saya..." she murmured. "Saya Sil..."

"Saya, is it?" the artist replied. Her downcast gaze settled on the remaining chunks of eggs - the portion that marked her failure at escape. She preferred Saya Sil to the shortened version for personal reasons, but it was too much trouble to correct the mistake. She could scarcely imagine the sort of words she would have to exchange to convince him that he misunderstood.

"What brings you to Mause, Saya?" asked the farmer, Gregory. His chubby cheeks gleamed red with the heat of his wife's morning meal. The grim-faced guard of Svalbard turned his eyes to Saya Sil, too, evidently sharing the man's curiosity. The sheridan girl tightened her jaw and fought back tears. She vehemently opposed this sort of conversation where she became the focal point. But what could she do? If she left a poor impression, the artist might change his mind about her. She still couldn't figure out why the sheridan with the mismatched horns was the ideal model for a painting of the redwoods.

"I'm... Trying to save money for a house..." she nearly whispered. It wasn't audible over the sound of clinking silverware.

"What's that, Saya?" asked Gregory. The guard waved his armored fist.

"She says she's trying to save up for a house," he explained in Saya Sil's stead. "Don't sheridans generally stick together? What I don't understand is why you'd come to a human village." The farmer and his wife cast the soldier pained looks, but they wouldn't speak harshly against him. Saya Sil had to fend for herself this time.

"It's just... I found this place first, so..." She swallowed what little saliva remained in her dry mouth and lowered her chin. The guard stared blankly at her horns pointed over the dinner table. None of them spoke for a while. Saya Sil's appetite had been lost, so she couldn't finish what remained on her plate. She studied it with regret while the other guests enjoyed the farmers' hospitality.

After the meal, Lou Frank was the first to rise from the table. He gave his thanks in a refreshingly polite tone and instructed Saya Sil to accompany him. The sheridan could only nod - both to the artist and her kindhearted hosts. Francine, the farmer's wife, assured Saya Sil that she would have food every morning and evening if she pleased. The girl just nodded again and scurried out after her new employer.
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Saya Sil Rumore
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The place Lou Frank chose lay on the edge of a clearing in the Red Woodlands, beneath an unusual tree which grew in a spiral. He gave specific instructions for her to lie on her side with her chin at such-and-such degree with the ground, one leg crossed over the other precisely here, this sort of expression on her face... The list of details she had to keep in mind far exceeded her limited capacity for memory, and besides, Saya Sil doubted she could keep fear from staining her face once her mind started to wander. She pledged silently to give it her best in any case.

As part of his requirements, the artist had Saya Sil remove her fur coat. She kept her faded shorts and the black, tattered top she had worn for several days. Her shoulders, stomach, and legs were exposed to the summer breeze and Lou Frank's fierce, gray eyes. The wind didn't bother her, but Saya Sil wished she had chosen a job that didn't involve hours of a man's silent staring.

Her thoughts roamed wild as the artist began his work. Periodically, her shoulders relaxed or her lips curled into a reserved frown, but Lou didn't always notice right away. She concluded that he bounced back and forth between illustrating the redwoods and the sheridan sprawled across the forest bedding, only noticing her failure to maintain a pose when he came back to her. Nevertheless, she learned how to hold her expression better over time, and the first day's work eventually ended. She exhaled in relief when the man dismissed her. A brown cloth pouch passed between them with her first day's wages.

"Are you staying in town?" he asked while tidying up his paints and other supplies. Saya Sil shook her head, but as he wasn't looking, that means of communication failed her.

"N... No..." she answered. The artist threw her what seemed like an accusing glance only to shrug and turn away.

"It's none of my business anyway," he decided. "Just don't get yourself eaten before I finish this painting."
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