--Sintija---
The trees of Debesskoka were dressed for the spring festival, floating Heartstone illuminated the deepening shadows while floral garlands adorned the branches. Not to be outdone by the venue, the festival goers in their most flattering finery gathered beneath the soft illumination to be matched by the village Elders but many had already found their own partners. The evening twilight was alive with laughter and the enticing melodies of the band calling the lovers to dance. Tables of food and oaken casks of sweet berry wine, decorated with garlands of braided ribbon and tuberoses framed the edge of the green.
Sintija stood alone at the edge of the crowd, holding her hands demurely in front of her. As the youngest Laumina, Sintija was expected to be a part of the festivities but she felt melancholy as she stared at the clear darkening sky and the full, Hunter's moon beyond the canopy of the forest. One of the village elders, Lady Daina of House Korva, had sent her favorite seamstress to ensure that Sintija was properly dressed for the occasion. The fine ivory, spider silk gown was unsuited for hunting and the delicate slippers were impractical for anything beyond dancing. Another tatya hinya woman had fussed with Sintija's hair and adorned it with complex braids and flowers, which Sintija noted was also impractical. Lady Korva had also forbidden Sintija the use of her bow during the festival- the hunters had already yielded a proper fest and there was no need for the young Laumina to miss out on the evening.
Sintija's thoughts drifted towards the future as she wondered what she was really doing there. She had no burning desire to have any children in the near future. She wanted to be hunting, or exploring but not stay in the village. Her hand drifted upward and settled on her left side above the fabric of her gown and over the scar that was a constant reminder of her immediate past and the danger of her work. What type of mother could she be with her life hanging on the balance? Her ribs still ached though the wound had finally healed but the idea that something was missing from her life was far more painful.
The distant lights of the stars slowly blinked into view. The wind ruffled her hair across her bare back and carried on it, a familiar cologne. Blinking, she turned to look across the sea of faces of the crowd. Sintija noticed the flash of sapphire fabric disappear around a corner and felt the pull to follow. She wove through the crowd, and gave her friends a small, polite smile as she passed, ignoring their attempts at conversation. Her chest ached and she hurried along.
Beneath a tall yew crested with bright garlands of pink and white tuberoses braided with crimson ribbons, stood a broad shouldered man wearing a well tailored quilted gambeson. His raven black hair was recently shorn and slicked back with she thought was pitch, his ears were well tanned and tapered to a point. Sintija took a moment to admire the tatya hinya before she finally spoke. "Turpin?"
The tatya hinya man glanced at Sintija over his shoulder before he finally turned. Moss green eyes twinkled with amusement as they met hers. "I knew that I could get your attention by giving you a prey to chase," Turpin mused.
Sintija's cheeks flushed as she looked away. "Am I that easy to read?"
His musing turned a little brighter, though only a little. Most of their families had been trying to forge the two of them into an item, of late, with all the patience of anyone working metal. Turpin had been malleable to that, pursing her with a sort of inevitability that had come carefully short of devotion. His work held that. But every once in a while his stoic personality eased, and he would smile as he smiled now, and Sintija could have the sense of the clever man beneath the mask.
"Yes," he said, with some good-natured satisfaction as he offered her a glass of the season's berry wine. "But, I don't blame you for it."
Sintija accepted the glass and held it lightly in her hands. She looked back up at him, the movement of her head caused golden strands of hair to fall into her face. "It feels strange to be inside the village on a night like this. Meneo's face is full and Saule sends her love towards her husband from a far… they can only be together on nights like this," the blush on her cheeks deepened as she recalled the legend. Her eyes flicked back downward to the purple hues of her wine. "You can hear their sighs on the wind."
Turpin looked up at the night sky, taking rather more than a sip of his own wine. She had known Turpin to drink a deal more than could be considered strictly healthy, but he had a tolerance by now, and the berry wine went down like little more than the juice it had been before time had turned it sour. It left his own complexion a little bit ruddy, but only for the evening, she suspected.
He didn't talk much, so it didn't seem odd when he didn't reply to her immediately. Instead, he considered the stars. They reflected in his vision for a while, sparks against the light of Meneo's moonlight radiance.
"What does it sound like?" he queried eventually.
"Yearning," she whispered as she took a long drink of the sweet wine. "It's hard to describe. It's a feeling more than a sound. Hollow air echoing through the valley at night, I guess?"
Turpin nodded placidly, accepting the answer. He seemed to shake off whatever feeling had caused him to ask, and he offered his hand to her, along with a well-practiced wry smile that he sometimes used on people who were asking him to do something ridiculous like smith the wind. He wouldn't tell her no - and he didn't tell her no - but he remained skeptical all the same. "Perhaps a little dancing can solve that feeling? It's been a long time since we've danced together, hasn't it? Under Meneo or Saule, it has been a long time, Laumina. I hope you haven't forgotten how?"
Sintija let the question hang in the air as she finished her wine. She timidly took his hand with a shy smile. He lifted it in acknowledgement, and ran his thumb over the knuckles of her fingers, briefly. "It has been a while for us. I'm surprised you're over here and not looking for a match. Surely, your mother has a plan for you tonight?"
"She does enjoy her games," he agreed, seeming a bit exasperated, the admission like a sigh. "In fact, she wishes me to be right here with you. Few of my other partners seem to satisfy her. I believe she enjoys torturing the people I care about, though I cannot place my finger quite upon why."
"She is the Lady Korva, perhaps, she is bored with village politics?" Sintija offered. "I wonder if I should consider it a honor then, that she was the one that sent me to the shrine after that templar?"
He scoffed a bit at the suggestion, a few lines on his otherwise fair complexion forming as he wrinkled his brow. "Oh, that. Yes, she is fond of you, so trying to kill you is to be expected."
"I think the templar made the point for her but I'm afraid, I am not ready to quit just yet," she gave his hand a gentle squeeze. "What do you think I should do? I don't want to stay in the village and bandage scrapes the rest of my life. There is so much world out there left to see… I think, the Gods are still out there somewhere."
In response, Turpin squeezed her hand, and then politely settled it upon his other arm and began leading her closer to the green, where the dancing had already started. The musicians were winding up with something familiar, but sedate. The night had just settled in and the lanterns had been lit, the food settled on, and the casques of wine and worse tapped for drinking. Sintija doubted the music, or the dancing, would be so peaceful or chaste for long.
"You should settle down," Turpin reasoned after they had covered half the ground to the green. "And quit running about so desperately. You won't find anything in the world below, or beyond the fence, that will satisfy you, if you can't satisfy yourself. I can understand liking your job, but you have hardly tried any other since. Why stay so long on the edge?"
"It's so close. I'm so close to finding the answer to a question I never knew needed answering." Her voice lowered and she offered a bright smile. "Laima is guiding me, I have to follow the path she is setting before me. Have you thought of what lies beyond in the sea of stars? The ships are being built." She hesitated as the green was just a few steps away. A light breeze brought the scent of the forest to them and displaced the aromas of the festival. "Can you feel it?"
She felt the tug on her hand, and looking over, saw the smile play across the blacksmith's fine features.
"Just now, only you."