- Invitation Status
- Posting Speed
- 1-3 posts per week
- One post per week
- Slow As Molasses
- Writing Levels
- Intermediate
- Adept
- Advanced
- Prestige
- Douche
- Adaptable
- Preferred Character Gender
- Male
- Female
- Primarily Prefer Female
- Genres
- Fantasy, Magical, Romance, Dystopian, Religious, Post-Apocalyptic, Zombies (but the plot has to consist of more than just mindlessly murdering the undead), Steampunk
The last remnants of the night sky faded as Leiara watched the sunrise over the east horizon. Only a few stars had fought hard enough to remain visible, but the sight was breathtaking. The orange and pink glow from the sun slowly eating at the pale purple twilight was enough to get lost in. Even as the sun was making its way further into the sky, the Mesa remained in a shroud of inky black shadows. Every morning it was the same, and every evening it all but glowed in the sun's setting light. As though it were alive. But Leiara couldn't afford to lose herself in the skies this morning.
Especially not this morning. It was their Saint Day and there were many things to do before opening the gates to allow the tourists in. The reservation was already humming with activity. The dancers in their full dress making their way down to the plaza. The sounds of bare feet slapping against the packed dirt roads filled her ears bringing a smile to her face as she made her way inside to get herself ready.
It didn't take her long, to paint her face and pull on her traditional dress, hers was much simpler than the others. Her station also excused her from having to take a shift dancing, but that wasn't really a perk in her opinion. She'd always wanted to join in. Even though it looked exhausting, it always had been something she wanted to do. But being a Shaman was an honor, even just training to be a Shaman; which was what she was doing. Running a brush through her long, dark hair she smiled at her reflection. Proud that her heritage was proudly displayed across her face. The tourists would know she was part of the tribe even if she wasn't dancing. The smile still decorated her face as she joined the others outside in preparation.
It was hectic, to say the least. Vendors setting up their wares-- displaying their prized pieces of jewelry and food stands-- were everywhere. Everybody who wished to sell things were required to beseech the tribal elders before hand, but they were pretty lenient about it on the Saint's Day. This was the only public feast day after all. Leiara smiled and waved to those she passed, a few of the more troublesome youths avoided her completely. But that was to be expected. The Shamans were the ones who dealt out punishments and conversed with the spirits on how to handle those few that continually got in trouble after all. Still, nothing could bring her down today. Saint's Day had always been her favorite of holidays. She loved showing the outsiders their way of life.
Slowly, she made her way to her family home. Her duties as a Shaman did not relieve her of her duties to her clan; well, at least not all of them. Her Grandmother and Mother were busy calling out orders to the cousins and when they caught sight of her they hurriedly waved her into the kitchen and handed her a bowl of bluish dough.
"You're in charge of the paper bread," Grandmother told her as her narrowed, wrinkled gaze swept over her. "Should give you enough to do, but not so much that you'll be late for whatever else it is you're doing today."
Leiara couldn't help but roll her eyes, but she did so as she nodded her acquiescence. Grandmother knew exactly what it was she was going to be doing. She was a Tribal Liaison. She simply had to be seen today. Out and about. Making herself appear welcoming, and answering any questions posed to her by an outsider. She'd spent the last week training on what to say and how much information to give. Their secrets were sacred and not everybody was allowed to answer questions. Not everybody knew the answers.
Making paper bread was tedious work, but it kept her busy and focused instead of anxious. This was her first Saint's Day as a Tribal Official, and if she was being honest with herself she was a nervous wreck about it. What if she slipped up and told a secret? What if she forgot the prepared stories? She didn't want to disappoint her family, or her tribe.
It took her a few hours before she returned to the kitchen with a basket full of rolled, blue, paper thin bread. She held it out for Grandmother's inspection smiling proudly.
"Not bad, child. Could be better, but you don't have time to redo them. So go on. Get out there." The old woman's voice didn't match her words at all. Leiara could basically feel the pride radiating out of her family's matriarch. Leaning forward, she kissed the old woman's cheek and bounded out of the house. The tourists should be arriving soon.
And they did.
They arrived in droves. The reservation filled to the brim with people and eventually they ran out of regulated parking. Leiara was more than kept busy by inquisitive minds asking her question after question. Most of them harmless. They asked about the dancers and their dress. They asked who to buy the best fry bread from. They asked so many questions that Leiara found her voice getting raspy before noon. Finally she had to excuse herself to let her throat rest and get something to drink.
Finding a nice, secluded spot next to the fence separating the Mesa with the rest of the village Leiara sighed and closed her eyes. Her face lifted toward the hot May sun in between drinks of her iced tea.
"Uh, excuse me? Miss?"
Leiara opened her eyes to find a group of outsiders standing in front of her. There were roughly ten of them. She pressed the smile back to her lips and greeted them. "Hello, I'm sorry but the festivities are back that way," she said pointing toward the plaza.
"I know." The speaker was a tall, thin man roughly in his thirties with sandy brown hair, and bright hazel eyes. "We were just curious about the rest of the reservation. Like why is this section fenced off? We couldn't see any livestock." The group mumbled a general consensus with his query and stared at her with wide and curious eyes.
Pushing herself to standing, Leiara brushed the red dust off her skirt with a sigh. She'd been taught what to say in case this situation occurred, of course. With practiced tone she began the tale.
"The Black Mesa is never traversed. To get to the other side one must walk around even though there are very clear cut paths leading up to the flat top and back down the other side. No amount of time shaved off the trip is worth it. Those who travel to the top never come back down. The land is sacred and protects itself from intruders. It is said that the spirits of our ancestors live on the Mesa and they wish to live their afterlife in peace. So please, I implore you: let your curiosity die with the end of this tale. Our traditions are not to be exploited."
The group looked from her to the Mesa and back again, and she smiled and waved her hand in the air. "Silly myths and legends is all. Nobody goes there though, we hold the land close to our hearts and don't violate the traditions and teachings of the past. So, how about we all get back to the plaza?"
With that she led them away towards the rhythmic sounds of the drums echoing through the reservation.
Especially not this morning. It was their Saint Day and there were many things to do before opening the gates to allow the tourists in. The reservation was already humming with activity. The dancers in their full dress making their way down to the plaza. The sounds of bare feet slapping against the packed dirt roads filled her ears bringing a smile to her face as she made her way inside to get herself ready.
It didn't take her long, to paint her face and pull on her traditional dress, hers was much simpler than the others. Her station also excused her from having to take a shift dancing, but that wasn't really a perk in her opinion. She'd always wanted to join in. Even though it looked exhausting, it always had been something she wanted to do. But being a Shaman was an honor, even just training to be a Shaman; which was what she was doing. Running a brush through her long, dark hair she smiled at her reflection. Proud that her heritage was proudly displayed across her face. The tourists would know she was part of the tribe even if she wasn't dancing. The smile still decorated her face as she joined the others outside in preparation.
It was hectic, to say the least. Vendors setting up their wares-- displaying their prized pieces of jewelry and food stands-- were everywhere. Everybody who wished to sell things were required to beseech the tribal elders before hand, but they were pretty lenient about it on the Saint's Day. This was the only public feast day after all. Leiara smiled and waved to those she passed, a few of the more troublesome youths avoided her completely. But that was to be expected. The Shamans were the ones who dealt out punishments and conversed with the spirits on how to handle those few that continually got in trouble after all. Still, nothing could bring her down today. Saint's Day had always been her favorite of holidays. She loved showing the outsiders their way of life.
Slowly, she made her way to her family home. Her duties as a Shaman did not relieve her of her duties to her clan; well, at least not all of them. Her Grandmother and Mother were busy calling out orders to the cousins and when they caught sight of her they hurriedly waved her into the kitchen and handed her a bowl of bluish dough.
"You're in charge of the paper bread," Grandmother told her as her narrowed, wrinkled gaze swept over her. "Should give you enough to do, but not so much that you'll be late for whatever else it is you're doing today."
Leiara couldn't help but roll her eyes, but she did so as she nodded her acquiescence. Grandmother knew exactly what it was she was going to be doing. She was a Tribal Liaison. She simply had to be seen today. Out and about. Making herself appear welcoming, and answering any questions posed to her by an outsider. She'd spent the last week training on what to say and how much information to give. Their secrets were sacred and not everybody was allowed to answer questions. Not everybody knew the answers.
Making paper bread was tedious work, but it kept her busy and focused instead of anxious. This was her first Saint's Day as a Tribal Official, and if she was being honest with herself she was a nervous wreck about it. What if she slipped up and told a secret? What if she forgot the prepared stories? She didn't want to disappoint her family, or her tribe.
It took her a few hours before she returned to the kitchen with a basket full of rolled, blue, paper thin bread. She held it out for Grandmother's inspection smiling proudly.
"Not bad, child. Could be better, but you don't have time to redo them. So go on. Get out there." The old woman's voice didn't match her words at all. Leiara could basically feel the pride radiating out of her family's matriarch. Leaning forward, she kissed the old woman's cheek and bounded out of the house. The tourists should be arriving soon.
And they did.
They arrived in droves. The reservation filled to the brim with people and eventually they ran out of regulated parking. Leiara was more than kept busy by inquisitive minds asking her question after question. Most of them harmless. They asked about the dancers and their dress. They asked who to buy the best fry bread from. They asked so many questions that Leiara found her voice getting raspy before noon. Finally she had to excuse herself to let her throat rest and get something to drink.
Finding a nice, secluded spot next to the fence separating the Mesa with the rest of the village Leiara sighed and closed her eyes. Her face lifted toward the hot May sun in between drinks of her iced tea.
"Uh, excuse me? Miss?"
Leiara opened her eyes to find a group of outsiders standing in front of her. There were roughly ten of them. She pressed the smile back to her lips and greeted them. "Hello, I'm sorry but the festivities are back that way," she said pointing toward the plaza.
"I know." The speaker was a tall, thin man roughly in his thirties with sandy brown hair, and bright hazel eyes. "We were just curious about the rest of the reservation. Like why is this section fenced off? We couldn't see any livestock." The group mumbled a general consensus with his query and stared at her with wide and curious eyes.
Pushing herself to standing, Leiara brushed the red dust off her skirt with a sigh. She'd been taught what to say in case this situation occurred, of course. With practiced tone she began the tale.
"The Black Mesa is never traversed. To get to the other side one must walk around even though there are very clear cut paths leading up to the flat top and back down the other side. No amount of time shaved off the trip is worth it. Those who travel to the top never come back down. The land is sacred and protects itself from intruders. It is said that the spirits of our ancestors live on the Mesa and they wish to live their afterlife in peace. So please, I implore you: let your curiosity die with the end of this tale. Our traditions are not to be exploited."
The group looked from her to the Mesa and back again, and she smiled and waved her hand in the air. "Silly myths and legends is all. Nobody goes there though, we hold the land close to our hearts and don't violate the traditions and teachings of the past. So, how about we all get back to the plaza?"
With that she led them away towards the rhythmic sounds of the drums echoing through the reservation.