Don't Get Caught
Sithrius Maranos was a wild child. While her adulthood would be just as chaotic and full of legend, for now she was just a child. Her father was Captain Maranos - Scourge to couriers between Solaris and Avani, and terror to the Nocturne whose patrols got too close to the shipping lanes. But all that reputation, all that swagger his name brought in the buccaneer hideout on Dorsal Island - that just bred a child who was determined to be as 'free' as her father.
This wayward daughter loved to escape the hideout that was her home every moment she could, diving into the tree lines and the rock strewn across the forest floor in cascades of maddening chaos to others, but that were her secret paths and deep spyways. While the other children stayed close to the hideout while their parents were away catching prey from the reckless and the misinformed; Sithrius was always finding new places to play on Dorsal Island. It did not help that she was different from the rest.
Below her is a Balak, one of the city ones, with all those heavy packs, and the almost sandals on her feet. She reminds Sithrius of an older version of the children back at town, never quite giving themselves to where they are and trying to change it into something they want it to be.
The balak has arms coated in a mix of plain tattoos and the shiny blue of the mage-tattoos she has seen on adults. Sithrius has her own tattoo, a little thing of scar and itching, done by one of the men on another crew when her father was not watching. She did not get caught then, she will not get caught now.
Her prey walks with a knotted staff, part walking stick, part glowing device with a bird claw burl grown into the evergreen base. The woman is not light on her feet, and the wildlife is already making itself scarce to her. Sithrius knows her prey is from the mainland, from those folk in the Kingdom. Once she is sure the prey is making enough noise she crouch-stands, walking on inwards facing feet from branch to branch, waiting for her prey to get a bit ahead, or to make a loud sound before making her leap from tree to tree.
Eventually they stop by a cave entrance, the women getting hesitant when looking at the reflection of the lake below the surface. Sithrius doesn't understand her prey's fear - having bathed regularly in the lake and its warm waters. Sith knows she is lucky, she's heard the mainland doesn't bathe in the water - and she wonders how they stand the stench. Leaning forwards, Sith watches the prey pull out a roll of paperbark, deftly dipping a brush into ink and tracing some sort of shorthand over the bark that she pulls more and more uncurled as the prey thinks. The mechanism is fascinating, and Sith wonders how it is different to the map rolls her father's peers use. She can almost see the details when she hears more than she feels her foot lose its place, sliding over eucalyptus bark and then air.
The impact is enough though, driving the wind from her lungs with an oof, and causing the leaves and rocks around her to shift in a rapid expulsion of sound. Her prey looks around and Sithrius tries to guide the dazed spots from eyes, even as she forces her limbs to move, roll and scramble into what little scrub this area can bring her. She's scratched in too many places, bruised and bleeding but soon she is out of sight.
She watches the prey move her staff in Sith's direction, clearing the scrub to try and see what made all the sound and Sith tries to gradually ease back into the shadows, hoping to get out of sight so she can regain the height and not be seen. It is the clunk of wood on wood that causes terror to fill Sith's heart, even as she gets safe enough away that she's not at risk of immediate finding. That staff, cane, stick, picks up one of her bangles; carelessly knocked from her wrist in her scramble or her fall or her something - just one more thing she has left that lets others know she is here. And yet the prey just gives a gentle smile, sliding the bangle into one of her many pockets, before turning to go the way she came.
Her prey's gait on the return is surer and less full of trepidation, as she seems to be heading back for her craft. Sith blows out a long sigh of relief, letting prey dip from her eyesight as her nerves calm. She takes a few breaths, in and out, closing her eyes and letting the tremble of released tension leave her young form. She had not been....
"You were known." The voice is her father's, as is his presence behind her. "You were known and you put us at risk, your home at risk. Open your eyes."
Sith obeys, seeing the faint curl of smothered flames drifting above the treeline. "In a moment I will show you what we have to do to keep our people safe. But you must remember, that when I ask you to do something, there is a reason - and more importantly a consequence when you disobey. A woman will not go home today because you did not stay in the bay like I asked you to. You must be more careful with the lives of others, my heart."
Freedom means don't get caught, Sithrius says to herself even as she watches the smoke rise once more.
This wayward daughter loved to escape the hideout that was her home every moment she could, diving into the tree lines and the rock strewn across the forest floor in cascades of maddening chaos to others, but that were her secret paths and deep spyways. While the other children stayed close to the hideout while their parents were away catching prey from the reckless and the misinformed; Sithrius was always finding new places to play on Dorsal Island. It did not help that she was different from the rest.
Her father was one of the few Foliad captains, and while many foliad became Crew or even held a role; Trolls tended to be the best captains, that's just how it was. But that was just her first difference to her 'peers'. Today however she was in a tree, having heard someone moving on the Island with a gait that was neither pirate, nor one of the animals that called this place home. She was crouched, on bare soles, a scarf around her mouth and head, her skirt bunching at her knees as deep amber eyes watch for moment to match the foreign sound.
The sound comes in three steps, crunch crunch tap. Crunch crunch tap. Ever closer as the energetic girl tries her best not to move among the canopy of eucalyptus nuts, her bracelets threatening to clatter together as much as the nuts on the branch she is crouched on. So full of energy she is, forced to stay still as the collective voice of the pirate town echoes in her head - "Don't get caught."
The sound comes in three steps, crunch crunch tap. Crunch crunch tap. Ever closer as the energetic girl tries her best not to move among the canopy of eucalyptus nuts, her bracelets threatening to clatter together as much as the nuts on the branch she is crouched on. So full of energy she is, forced to stay still as the collective voice of the pirate town echoes in her head - "Don't get caught."
by Thereasonwhy
Below her is a Balak, one of the city ones, with all those heavy packs, and the almost sandals on her feet. She reminds Sithrius of an older version of the children back at town, never quite giving themselves to where they are and trying to change it into something they want it to be.
The balak has arms coated in a mix of plain tattoos and the shiny blue of the mage-tattoos she has seen on adults. Sithrius has her own tattoo, a little thing of scar and itching, done by one of the men on another crew when her father was not watching. She did not get caught then, she will not get caught now.
Her prey walks with a knotted staff, part walking stick, part glowing device with a bird claw burl grown into the evergreen base. The woman is not light on her feet, and the wildlife is already making itself scarce to her. Sithrius knows her prey is from the mainland, from those folk in the Kingdom. Once she is sure the prey is making enough noise she crouch-stands, walking on inwards facing feet from branch to branch, waiting for her prey to get a bit ahead, or to make a loud sound before making her leap from tree to tree.
Eventually they stop by a cave entrance, the women getting hesitant when looking at the reflection of the lake below the surface. Sithrius doesn't understand her prey's fear - having bathed regularly in the lake and its warm waters. Sith knows she is lucky, she's heard the mainland doesn't bathe in the water - and she wonders how they stand the stench. Leaning forwards, Sith watches the prey pull out a roll of paperbark, deftly dipping a brush into ink and tracing some sort of shorthand over the bark that she pulls more and more uncurled as the prey thinks. The mechanism is fascinating, and Sith wonders how it is different to the map rolls her father's peers use. She can almost see the details when she hears more than she feels her foot lose its place, sliding over eucalyptus bark and then air.
Keeping her mind she
keeps quiet
even as
she keeps
falling
down.
keeps quiet
even as
she keeps
falling
down.
The impact is enough though, driving the wind from her lungs with an oof, and causing the leaves and rocks around her to shift in a rapid expulsion of sound. Her prey looks around and Sithrius tries to guide the dazed spots from eyes, even as she forces her limbs to move, roll and scramble into what little scrub this area can bring her. She's scratched in too many places, bruised and bleeding but soon she is out of sight.
by Thereasonwhy
She watches the prey move her staff in Sith's direction, clearing the scrub to try and see what made all the sound and Sith tries to gradually ease back into the shadows, hoping to get out of sight so she can regain the height and not be seen. It is the clunk of wood on wood that causes terror to fill Sith's heart, even as she gets safe enough away that she's not at risk of immediate finding. That staff, cane, stick, picks up one of her bangles; carelessly knocked from her wrist in her scramble or her fall or her something - just one more thing she has left that lets others know she is here. And yet the prey just gives a gentle smile, sliding the bangle into one of her many pockets, before turning to go the way she came.
Her prey's gait on the return is surer and less full of trepidation, as she seems to be heading back for her craft. Sith blows out a long sigh of relief, letting prey dip from her eyesight as her nerves calm. She takes a few breaths, in and out, closing her eyes and letting the tremble of released tension leave her young form. She had not been....
"You were known." The voice is her father's, as is his presence behind her. "You were known and you put us at risk, your home at risk. Open your eyes."
Sith obeys, seeing the faint curl of smothered flames drifting above the treeline. "In a moment I will show you what we have to do to keep our people safe. But you must remember, that when I ask you to do something, there is a reason - and more importantly a consequence when you disobey. A woman will not go home today because you did not stay in the bay like I asked you to. You must be more careful with the lives of others, my heart."
Freedom means don't get caught, Sithrius says to herself even as she watches the smoke rise once more.
Thank you for reading, feel free to give feedback.
Comments
Author's Notes
Thanks to Tillerz and Hanhula on the CSS discord for the falling text. And thanks to Thereasonwhy for the fanart that spawned this and Seed Fracture. So naturally when Sithrius fell I needed to commission a sequel. I respect and adore you all.