62nd of Vhalar, 679
Bakan Isori (Outside)
She peered from behind the tree, watching cautiously at the group of Sev’ryn that had gathered for the lesson. Murmurs of excitement washed over the crowd, spoken in the strange tongue of Xanthean, and Navyri wasn’t sure if she would be able to understand the instructor at all. It wasn’t until he stepped up - a man that appeared in his mid-forties with salt and pepper hair braided into a tight bun on the top of his head - that she felt relief. A hush took over and he addressed the interested party in smooth common with an accent she didn’t recognize. Northern, maybe, yet he had the high cheekbones and tawny skin of the people of Desnind.
“Falconry,” he began, a smile pulling at his lips that gave him a mystical quality, “is a hunting sport, but one in which the actual taking of game is secondary to the nuance of flight and the subtle interaction of human handler and winged hunter. It's also a sport that, to the average observer, is as mysterious and visually intoxicating an activity as you are likely to find anywhere.”
There was awe in his voice; a special story-telling quality that pulled her close, the Naer gripping the bark desperately to keep from drawing towards the stage, “Birds of prey fascinate us in ways other animals simply cannot. Not only is their method of hunting hypnotic in its beauty, raptors wear an air of languid superiority as comfortably as they wear their feathers. By virtue of their haughtiness, they demand our attention. And we, as spellbound, land-bound subjects, always give it.”
“To those interested in this art, the mechanics of the sport are deceptively simple and have changed very little over the centuries. Falconers either raise or trap birds of prey and train them to catch a variety of game, depending on the type of raptor used.”
Raptor.
He kept using this word, Navyri noticed. Having had very little experience with avians - as Augiery was underground with no open skies… she did not realize they could be called anything but… well, birds. Raptor. Predator. Delroth.
Hunkering down in her spot, she dug her bare feet into the rich dirt and listened.
“Those who fly falcons pursue winged game like grouse, waterfowl and pheasants almost exclusively, since falcons generally hunt other birds….Falconers who fly hawks can, depending on the species of hawk used, hunt birds as well as ground-dwelling game like rabbits and squirrels.”
’Falcons to hunt other birds, Hawks hunt both birds and game… she replayed this information in her mind, watching as the man reached behind him and lifted up a leather gauntlet, or glove, “The accoutrements of the sport are simple as well. Heavy leather gloves allow birds to perch on their handlers' arms during training sessions and hunts. We also have hoods,” he lifted these up for display and then handed it to the corner of the front row, adults and children alike stifling excitement before passing it on to the other, “Hoods are used both as a training tool to tame birds and as a way to keep the avian calm before and after a hunt. Lures are leather pouches garnished with meat used to train birds to fly to the handler's first.”
There was an excitement building up in the air, palpable and incessant, like a buzzing insect in one’s ear. Navyri heard it in the excited chatter of the children, and the shifting bodies in the crowd when the trainer turned, reaching for a large container clothed in dark fabric. With an entertainer's smile, the man pulled the cover back and inside a large bird of prey waited, turning its head to peer at who dared disturb it.
“This beauty” the man said, slipping on a falconer's glove after receiving it back from the crowd, “Is a Red-tailed, Etzori hawk, most commonly observed around the city which shares its name, it is actually fairly common in most of Central Idalos. This one here is a male, named Feyren. You can tell it's a male by the markings,” the falconer reached in and the bird stepped upon the offered wrist quite easily, pulled free so that it could be lifted high for display.
“See the tail?” Feyren was turned, his back feathers a rust colored red, splashed with a white stripe and tipped with black, “Females of this species often have simpler colors, and in this case, would not have the stripe you see here. In fact, in many birds, males are often seen with more colorful plumage than their female counterparts.”
Navyri furrowed her brow. The females weren't as pretty? Before she could stop herself, her curiosity for the better of her and she blurted out, “Why?”
The falconer took pause, looking for the voice and one by one every head in the audience turned, landing on the girl behind the tree. Realizing what she had done, Navyri tried to fight the blush rising to her cheeks and stood tall, emerging from behind the trunk, “Is this always the case?”
Navyri crossed one arm over her torso, feeling the weight of the stares. A brief look of surprise flickered over his face, spotting something, and he nodded, “There are a few exceptions. Scholars believe it aids the avian in attracting a mate,”
Waving her towards the stage, Navyri didn't understand what he wanted at first and then swallowed, following instruction with caution. Was she in trouble? As she began to join him, she saw the jealous glares of a few of the children, others were fascinated by her boldness, “There are some that have a different opinion though,” the falconer announced, looking at the Naer’s uncovered arms.
Her mark stood out, and as if on cue, the wind blew gently, sending the feather's shifting. Immediately, she knew why he had been surprised and she wanted to hug her arms close, to hide the holy brand of ownership.
“I've read a few religious texts,” the man said, voice capturing the spiritual Sev’ryn once more, “Many of which imply that the male bird was made in the image of their creator, favoring the form Delroth appears most.”
He then looked back down at Navyri, “What do you think?”
Why was he asking her? The blue eyed girl lifted a foot to take a step back, only stopping when Feyren pushed out his neck and arched his head, brown eyes pinning her in place. The look felt… expectant and she struggled to find the words.
“I-” A strange shyness overcame her, but she could not pull away, and as if someone else was taking over, Navyri lifted a palm. She did not notice the confusion or concern that passed over the faces of the others, only that she was watching herself from the eyes of another.
She reached out and before she could be chastised, touched her fingertips to the hawk's breast. The feather's were soft beneath her touch and she blinked, suddenly back in her body, staring the raptor in the face. Besides her new familiar, this was the closest she had ever been to a bird. Fear struck her and she pulled quickly away, “I don't know,” Looking away from the avian, she began creeping backwards, “I shouldn't have done that.”
“No, perhaps not.” The instructor blinked, perplexed by the interaction, looking between the girl and bird, as if having expected the interaction to go far differently. His voice was low, soft enough so that the others would not hear, “Would you meet me after the demonstration? I’d like to speak with you.”
Navyri bowed her head and hurried off the stage, heart pounding as she passed the viewers. Feyren lost interest in her once more, eyes scouring the skies at every trill of the forest, and the lesson continued.
While the teacher did not let any other interested parties touch the bird, he did demonstrate how to put on and take off the hood, as well as how to check for any health abnormalities. Feyren waited patiently as his wing was lifted and prodded at, only looking at the hand that held him once or twice after prolonged bothering.
It was an interesting relationship between man and bird, somehow different than the one she shared with Curio. To the treetops she looked, spotting a path of white amongst the lush leaves. He still felt foreign to her and she wasn’t sure how long it would stay that way. How alien birds were, fit for the open skies, so unlike her own origins - born from the depths of Idalos in the dark city of Augiery. And yet…
Navyri closed her eyes, the lesson fading away as her memory consumed her, the feeling of heat exhaustion and burning skin taunting her. Oh, how she looked around the ship’s deck for any sign of moving wind, desperate for the blonde man who had taken her money. (I'm not human. I'm-I'm a shadow! A Naerikk.)
A pain shot through her heart, reminiscent of the startling fear when he blinked into view, so close and predatory, (Now that’s interesting). Blues eyes pinned her in place, floating in the darkness of her mind, the void of their irises pinning in appraisal.
The sounds of footsteps pulled her back, and Navyri opened her eyes to see the lesson had been dismissed, the children and adults alike walking away, a number of them asking questions afterward and trying to see if they could feed the bird. The latter requests were denied, and Navyri sat patiently until they were gone and the man was beginning to pack up his equipment.
As quiet as a shadow, the Naer crept forward, “You wanted to speak with me?”
He looked up and smiled warmly, “I did.” Having set Feyren on a tall wooden perch, he extended a gloved hand, “My name is Erentai, and you are?”
She glanced between him and the bird, still unfamiliar with talking to men as equals and not those to be ordered around, “Navyri.”
“Navyri,” he repeated, “A very pretty name. I’ll admit, I was surprised Feyren allowed you to touch him, but I suppose that’s not very unexpected for a Tarouz,” he looked to her arms, “How long have you been marked?”
“I don’t know.”
Erentai laughed, “No? Well, I will admit I am jealous. I’ve been trying to get Delroth’s attention for some time, and not once has he appeared to me. What is he like?”
It made sense for a falconer to seek out the favor of Immortal of Birds, “He’s…” What was he like, “Sharp. Like,” Her words failed her, having spoken very little of her blessing or arrival to Desnind, “His eyes, they… grip you like… like talons. And he’s… observant, and…”
Breathtaking.
Meeting Delroth had been like looking at a beautiful mirage, so real and otherworldly. He glided around on the wings of wind, his hair brushed back to show off his face - threatening and innocent all at once. She blushed, remembering how she had asked if he was real and how he had postured proudly by the question, “I do him no justice,” she admitted, looking away, “He thought me interesting, and then led my sails to Desnind. I do not know what he wants from me yet.”
Erentai took this all in with great amusement, “Desnind is certainly a destination for someone like you,” He pointed upwards and when she followed his gaze, saw the bottom of an enormous treehouse above. A library, apparently, “There is ample knowledge here on his domain. You look to any tree or window, and a bird has made a nest. The songs and screams of them fill the jungle, some of his most beautiful creations deep inside. This city was an excellent choice to understand him and his purpose for you.”
She listened quietly, meditating on the information. So, to understand the mannerisms and breeds of all the birds was to understand a portion of him?
The Falconer motioned towards her arms, “May I?” With a pause of hesitation, Navyri held out her mark, allowing him to poke at the imagery, “How would you like to be an apprentice?”
Navyri opened her mouth and closed it, suddenly seeing the connection. By aiding her, he could have a better chance of also turning the eye of the immortal and maybe she would be one step closer to freeing herself from the debt and returning home, “I accept.”
“Excellent,” Erentai seemed very pleased and tossed her a glove, “Meet me here tomorrow at dawn.”
Bakan Isori (Outside)
She peered from behind the tree, watching cautiously at the group of Sev’ryn that had gathered for the lesson. Murmurs of excitement washed over the crowd, spoken in the strange tongue of Xanthean, and Navyri wasn’t sure if she would be able to understand the instructor at all. It wasn’t until he stepped up - a man that appeared in his mid-forties with salt and pepper hair braided into a tight bun on the top of his head - that she felt relief. A hush took over and he addressed the interested party in smooth common with an accent she didn’t recognize. Northern, maybe, yet he had the high cheekbones and tawny skin of the people of Desnind.
“Falconry,” he began, a smile pulling at his lips that gave him a mystical quality, “is a hunting sport, but one in which the actual taking of game is secondary to the nuance of flight and the subtle interaction of human handler and winged hunter. It's also a sport that, to the average observer, is as mysterious and visually intoxicating an activity as you are likely to find anywhere.”
There was awe in his voice; a special story-telling quality that pulled her close, the Naer gripping the bark desperately to keep from drawing towards the stage, “Birds of prey fascinate us in ways other animals simply cannot. Not only is their method of hunting hypnotic in its beauty, raptors wear an air of languid superiority as comfortably as they wear their feathers. By virtue of their haughtiness, they demand our attention. And we, as spellbound, land-bound subjects, always give it.”
“To those interested in this art, the mechanics of the sport are deceptively simple and have changed very little over the centuries. Falconers either raise or trap birds of prey and train them to catch a variety of game, depending on the type of raptor used.”
Raptor.
He kept using this word, Navyri noticed. Having had very little experience with avians - as Augiery was underground with no open skies… she did not realize they could be called anything but… well, birds. Raptor. Predator. Delroth.
Hunkering down in her spot, she dug her bare feet into the rich dirt and listened.
“Those who fly falcons pursue winged game like grouse, waterfowl and pheasants almost exclusively, since falcons generally hunt other birds….Falconers who fly hawks can, depending on the species of hawk used, hunt birds as well as ground-dwelling game like rabbits and squirrels.”
’Falcons to hunt other birds, Hawks hunt both birds and game… she replayed this information in her mind, watching as the man reached behind him and lifted up a leather gauntlet, or glove, “The accoutrements of the sport are simple as well. Heavy leather gloves allow birds to perch on their handlers' arms during training sessions and hunts. We also have hoods,” he lifted these up for display and then handed it to the corner of the front row, adults and children alike stifling excitement before passing it on to the other, “Hoods are used both as a training tool to tame birds and as a way to keep the avian calm before and after a hunt. Lures are leather pouches garnished with meat used to train birds to fly to the handler's first.”
There was an excitement building up in the air, palpable and incessant, like a buzzing insect in one’s ear. Navyri heard it in the excited chatter of the children, and the shifting bodies in the crowd when the trainer turned, reaching for a large container clothed in dark fabric. With an entertainer's smile, the man pulled the cover back and inside a large bird of prey waited, turning its head to peer at who dared disturb it.
“This beauty” the man said, slipping on a falconer's glove after receiving it back from the crowd, “Is a Red-tailed, Etzori hawk, most commonly observed around the city which shares its name, it is actually fairly common in most of Central Idalos. This one here is a male, named Feyren. You can tell it's a male by the markings,” the falconer reached in and the bird stepped upon the offered wrist quite easily, pulled free so that it could be lifted high for display.
“See the tail?” Feyren was turned, his back feathers a rust colored red, splashed with a white stripe and tipped with black, “Females of this species often have simpler colors, and in this case, would not have the stripe you see here. In fact, in many birds, males are often seen with more colorful plumage than their female counterparts.”
Navyri furrowed her brow. The females weren't as pretty? Before she could stop herself, her curiosity for the better of her and she blurted out, “Why?”
The falconer took pause, looking for the voice and one by one every head in the audience turned, landing on the girl behind the tree. Realizing what she had done, Navyri tried to fight the blush rising to her cheeks and stood tall, emerging from behind the trunk, “Is this always the case?”
Navyri crossed one arm over her torso, feeling the weight of the stares. A brief look of surprise flickered over his face, spotting something, and he nodded, “There are a few exceptions. Scholars believe it aids the avian in attracting a mate,”
Waving her towards the stage, Navyri didn't understand what he wanted at first and then swallowed, following instruction with caution. Was she in trouble? As she began to join him, she saw the jealous glares of a few of the children, others were fascinated by her boldness, “There are some that have a different opinion though,” the falconer announced, looking at the Naer’s uncovered arms.
Her mark stood out, and as if on cue, the wind blew gently, sending the feather's shifting. Immediately, she knew why he had been surprised and she wanted to hug her arms close, to hide the holy brand of ownership.
“I've read a few religious texts,” the man said, voice capturing the spiritual Sev’ryn once more, “Many of which imply that the male bird was made in the image of their creator, favoring the form Delroth appears most.”
He then looked back down at Navyri, “What do you think?”
Why was he asking her? The blue eyed girl lifted a foot to take a step back, only stopping when Feyren pushed out his neck and arched his head, brown eyes pinning her in place. The look felt… expectant and she struggled to find the words.
“I-” A strange shyness overcame her, but she could not pull away, and as if someone else was taking over, Navyri lifted a palm. She did not notice the confusion or concern that passed over the faces of the others, only that she was watching herself from the eyes of another.
She reached out and before she could be chastised, touched her fingertips to the hawk's breast. The feather's were soft beneath her touch and she blinked, suddenly back in her body, staring the raptor in the face. Besides her new familiar, this was the closest she had ever been to a bird. Fear struck her and she pulled quickly away, “I don't know,” Looking away from the avian, she began creeping backwards, “I shouldn't have done that.”
“No, perhaps not.” The instructor blinked, perplexed by the interaction, looking between the girl and bird, as if having expected the interaction to go far differently. His voice was low, soft enough so that the others would not hear, “Would you meet me after the demonstration? I’d like to speak with you.”
Navyri bowed her head and hurried off the stage, heart pounding as she passed the viewers. Feyren lost interest in her once more, eyes scouring the skies at every trill of the forest, and the lesson continued.
While the teacher did not let any other interested parties touch the bird, he did demonstrate how to put on and take off the hood, as well as how to check for any health abnormalities. Feyren waited patiently as his wing was lifted and prodded at, only looking at the hand that held him once or twice after prolonged bothering.
It was an interesting relationship between man and bird, somehow different than the one she shared with Curio. To the treetops she looked, spotting a path of white amongst the lush leaves. He still felt foreign to her and she wasn’t sure how long it would stay that way. How alien birds were, fit for the open skies, so unlike her own origins - born from the depths of Idalos in the dark city of Augiery. And yet…
Navyri closed her eyes, the lesson fading away as her memory consumed her, the feeling of heat exhaustion and burning skin taunting her. Oh, how she looked around the ship’s deck for any sign of moving wind, desperate for the blonde man who had taken her money. (I'm not human. I'm-I'm a shadow! A Naerikk.)
A pain shot through her heart, reminiscent of the startling fear when he blinked into view, so close and predatory, (Now that’s interesting). Blues eyes pinned her in place, floating in the darkness of her mind, the void of their irises pinning in appraisal.
The sounds of footsteps pulled her back, and Navyri opened her eyes to see the lesson had been dismissed, the children and adults alike walking away, a number of them asking questions afterward and trying to see if they could feed the bird. The latter requests were denied, and Navyri sat patiently until they were gone and the man was beginning to pack up his equipment.
As quiet as a shadow, the Naer crept forward, “You wanted to speak with me?”
He looked up and smiled warmly, “I did.” Having set Feyren on a tall wooden perch, he extended a gloved hand, “My name is Erentai, and you are?”
She glanced between him and the bird, still unfamiliar with talking to men as equals and not those to be ordered around, “Navyri.”
“Navyri,” he repeated, “A very pretty name. I’ll admit, I was surprised Feyren allowed you to touch him, but I suppose that’s not very unexpected for a Tarouz,” he looked to her arms, “How long have you been marked?”
“I don’t know.”
Erentai laughed, “No? Well, I will admit I am jealous. I’ve been trying to get Delroth’s attention for some time, and not once has he appeared to me. What is he like?”
It made sense for a falconer to seek out the favor of Immortal of Birds, “He’s…” What was he like, “Sharp. Like,” Her words failed her, having spoken very little of her blessing or arrival to Desnind, “His eyes, they… grip you like… like talons. And he’s… observant, and…”
Breathtaking.
Meeting Delroth had been like looking at a beautiful mirage, so real and otherworldly. He glided around on the wings of wind, his hair brushed back to show off his face - threatening and innocent all at once. She blushed, remembering how she had asked if he was real and how he had postured proudly by the question, “I do him no justice,” she admitted, looking away, “He thought me interesting, and then led my sails to Desnind. I do not know what he wants from me yet.”
Erentai took this all in with great amusement, “Desnind is certainly a destination for someone like you,” He pointed upwards and when she followed his gaze, saw the bottom of an enormous treehouse above. A library, apparently, “There is ample knowledge here on his domain. You look to any tree or window, and a bird has made a nest. The songs and screams of them fill the jungle, some of his most beautiful creations deep inside. This city was an excellent choice to understand him and his purpose for you.”
She listened quietly, meditating on the information. So, to understand the mannerisms and breeds of all the birds was to understand a portion of him?
The Falconer motioned towards her arms, “May I?” With a pause of hesitation, Navyri held out her mark, allowing him to poke at the imagery, “How would you like to be an apprentice?”
Navyri opened her mouth and closed it, suddenly seeing the connection. By aiding her, he could have a better chance of also turning the eye of the immortal and maybe she would be one step closer to freeing herself from the debt and returning home, “I accept.”
“Excellent,” Erentai seemed very pleased and tossed her a glove, “Meet me here tomorrow at dawn.”
