Think You Can Keep Up, Eh? [Jehan]

[Gitana Chumomisto]

Timestamp: The eighth brightening in Aperitus in the Season of Summer, Era II of the Celestine Mandate, Era XIV Post Fractum, the Second Era of the Regency of Milo L'Evienne. – Afternoon
Continued from A Gift

Gitana ran, grabbing her brightly colored skirts in her hands as they hampered her long strides. The barbs of the talvia wrapped about her waist jingled with each hard-hit step, and for a moment the gypsy wished she hadn't worn her shoes--that she could feel the ground beneath her feet, warm and welcoming. But she didn't and it didn't matter--all that mattered was that she ran and behind her was her prala, somewhere, either still fumbling about in the vardo with his tattooing tools or scrambling to catch up with her. It wouldn't be hard, catching up; he was a shade taller, stronger, his strides longer...and he didn't wear skirts or have bibaxt, as she did.

But she'd gotten a head start and grinning, she didn't look over her shoulder because she was newly marked with a gecko, a tattoo of a green creature outlined with dark black. A gift from her brother. The gecko would be her luck, her brother had said as much, and she ran now with luck sitting perched on her shoulder, tucked beneath the carefully secured bandages, set there by Jehan himself. Beat her in a race? Hah! She'd show him. She and Kizzy.

"Kizzy! Come, odjus," she cooed to the beautiful white and red colorwash. The horse sidled a little, startled by Gitana, who hadn't stopped running until she'd reached the mare's side. She was tied to the side of her family's vardo beside Jehan's mount. Nimble fingers worked hard to undo those knots and she bit at her lip as she worked them loose quickly. She didn't need to stare at them to know how to unwork them and she stared back where she'd left Jehan. Surely he had caught up by now.

WIth a squeal of delight, the knot came free and Gitana used the side of the vardo to help haul herself up onto the mare's back. A click of her tongue, a squeeze of her heels against Kizzy's sides, and they were off, the horse into a walk, then a trot, a canter. And then she was flying. Flying. The wind whipped at her hair and Gitana stopped looking for her brother, simply let the wind drag at her as she bent close to Kizzy's neck and used the loose rope of the halter to guide Kizzy towards the cherry grove.

[Jehan Chumomisto]

Jehan wasn’t far behind his younger sister. He blew out the candle he had been using and headed out the door racing towards his horse, Fonso. He would have caught up to Gitana if the distance was a little more, but it wasn’t and he had to settle for unlatching his horse. His biggest disadvantage was that Fonso was on the opposite side of Kizzy from where they had run from. He may have cursed if he hadn’t been laughing at the whole affair. He enjoyed playing these games but he had to be careful not to lose control. He couldn’t afford to lose the crowns that had been put on the table in this one.

“No fair” he called to Gitana. “It is my work that makes you lead” he joked as he got the rope free and hopped onto Fonso. The two horses were similar in size, but Jehan was just tall enough that he could make it up without any help. It took a lot of practice to be able to hop on top of a saddle less horse, but he managed. Gitana has already started off though and so Jehan nudged his heels into the side of Fonso who started walking then quickly went into a trot.

He rode as quickly as he could after her knowing that she was likely to be the victor in this battle. She was ahead of Jehan and their horses were usually matched for speed. He tried thinking of the fastest way there, a turn that she may take that he could cut through, only to try and gain ground…little by little.

Though Gitana was no fool rider, she may make mistakes, turns that would cause her to turn the same way as he arm might be slower, delayed and not as sharp. It was a cheap trick, but so too was starting the race when they were still inside and worst of all, still cleaning up. Though she was his sister he couldn’t just allow her to win, he had to do everything that he could to achieve a victory save pushing his sister off of her horse.

Jehan bent forward, whispering into Fonso’s ear “Quick”. He needed to encourage him, get him on his best day, and with any luck Kizzy might be having a bad one. Though that would prove his method of giving Gitana luck had failed.

[Gitana Chumomisto]

Jehan would try and take shortcuts, she knew that and while she did glance behind her occasionally, she did not expect to see him darting around behind her any more than she expected him to suddenly fly out ahead of her. She was going to win this!

But Gitana knew paths of her own, knew little ways that she might, possibly get to the destination ahead of him. But it would be tricky, too, because the path she knew was narrow and windy and passed through the trees. She wouldn't be able to keep such a fast pace--she'd need to keep it slower, steady, at a trot.

She verved Kizzy off the road, slowing her into a quick-paced trot and ducked her head as she passed under a low-hanging, thick branch. She nearly smacked into it, moving out of the way just in time. She looked again over to shoulder to see if Jehan would take this route, but she didn't see him...not yet. She figured he must know this path, too, but would he think it the faster route when he knew he'd have to trot or even walk?

She kept up a steady trot insofar as she was able, maneuvering around branches, reaching up a hand to bat aside the tickling wisps of twigs and leaves. The forest was quiet save for the birds and the odd squirrels, the clomp of horse hooves on dirt, knocking a rock on occasion. It was a little unsettling, she decided and nudged Kizzy a little faster; she was a gypsy, accustomed to close-quarters and laughter...always there was noise in a kumpania.

She was glad to put the track of woods behind her, glad because for a moment she felt that she would be stuck wondering that game path until she emerged somewhere she hadn't wanted to be. Had she picked the right one? She had--there, perhaps a stone's throw away, were the cherry trees.

She didn't even look to see if Jehan was nearby--she nudged Kizzy into a gallop and sped towards them.

[Rafael Espadas]

The Dolwoods was a strange place. Some said that it was a forest that was ever-growing; not in the sense where a leaf would replace one that was plucked away or eaten, or that a branch will always make the inexorable climb towards the sky; but in the way that it seemed to be a sentient, living creature that grew at an accelerated rate surpassing most woods and the air that seemed to sizzle with an invisible fire.

Secrets of the Dolwood after all, continued to baffle even the most adept in the fields of arcana, for it was not mere mortal magic that created the enchanted woodland, but God's magic. A single grain of the Sand of Life long ago cast by desperate Elves marked the beginning of the fabled greens.

As it was, young Gitana was spurning on Kizzy to go faster, and the faithful mount was only too happy to oblige. There was something about the Dolwoods that drew not only people, but animals into its enigmatic emerald wells.

Craggy rocks covered with moss littered the ground beneath Kizzy's hooves; and it was this part of the forest which was dangerous for even the experienced tracker; much less to one riding an animal at such fast speed. The horse skidded on the slippery moss as it reared back, with Gitana almost falling off; but her grip held firm. Momentum however, seemed more than willing to twist things a little, and as Kizzy maintained her footing -- balanced above a perilous spot on the edge of a boulder, Gitana really flew forward, and landing on her bottom, was soon sliding down a slope of moss covered rocks almost five stories high; before she rolled to a stop on soft loamy grass beneath the small knoll.

A few scratches were on both elbows, a little bump on her forehead, and a very sore buttock was all the girl suffered, though her ego would be much more bruised than any other thing. Apparently she was lucky enough

Sitting up she would realize that she found her surroundings rather unfamiliar; perhaps due to the disorientation from that very bumpy slide ride, or maybe she was really in a new part of the Dolwoods entirely. The rippling laughter of a stream was to her left one moment, and then seemed to shift to her right.

Forests were strange in the way where sounds seemed to be coming from all directions. This is also the same reason why so many people have disappeared into the Dolwoods and never returned. Yet a promising stream would allow the girl to wash her superficial wounds and gather her bearings once she had some rest.

Kizzy was nowhere to be seen, the incline of the slope, combined with the natural jut of the rocks in such a way where there was little way of seeing beyond ten feet up the hill.

Jehan, in the interim, was just emerging from the short cut that he had taken to out smart his sister when he noticed something amiss. Kizzy, was balanced dangerously over a stone ledge while his sister was nowhere to be seen. He couldn't see beneath the convex knoll that had a dead ground ahead, but it would be obvious that his sister was likely lying down there in an awkward position and bones jutting out from her body.

No one after all, could survive a fall like this... unless there was some kind of luck involved.

[Gitana Chumomisto]

She was there, almost there! And Jehan not yet insight--perhaps her luck was changing. Perhaps the gecko that Jehan had tattooed for her would bring her luck.

Gitana grinned, could not help but grin, as the trees grew closer. She was heedless of the ground beneath, thinking herself a rather fine rider in her way, believing there was nothing to fear in the slightest. Only when Kizzy's hooves skidded and shifted poorly against the moss did she feel the first stab of fear and panic. She gripped her legs tight around the mare's waist, her hands reaching to grasp at the mane desperately. She could feel the horse moving in a dangerous way and, her voice caught soundless in her throat, she felt herself tumbling, her hands grasping at empty air.

When she landed, she gasped, feeling pain rocket through her. Miraculously almost that she was alive. Luck? Was this luck? She lay there, sore and hurting, gasping for her breath as she calmed her shattered nerves. She stared up the way that she had come, a slope slick with rocks and moss, and supposed she should have been surprised that all she felt was sore and bruised.

Gradually she gathered herself, looking around and feeling uncomfortable on top of all the pain. The Dolwoods. She knew she was in the Dolwoods...but she had a poor idea for the geography; for all that they traveled the roads through these woods almost every era, they rarely left the roads to wander beyond them. Only with horses and groups did they brave the Dolwoods. She stared back up the slope, wondering what had become of Kizzy, if she was all right. She didn't seem to have come tumbling down after her rider--a good thing, perhaps, or maybe Gitana'd been trambled--but there was no sign of her at the crest of the slope. Not that she could see the very top anyway. The rocks made sure of that.

"Jehan?" she called out, wondering if he'd be able to hear her. "Jehan!"

She looked around her, rubbed her forehead with a wince, feeling that bump that seemed to have formed on her head. She shifted towards the stream nearby and crouched down beside it, caring little that the hem of her skirts dragged in the water as she lowered her hands into it. She used the water to rub at some of the dirt that had gathered on her arms. If Jehan couldn't hear from here, she'd have to start looking for a way back out. But she didn't want to wander too far. Didn't want to risk getting herself lost in these woods, having heard plenty of tales herself.

Still crouched by the river, she turned a little so that she was staring up the bank. "Jehan, where are you?" she muttered, cringing a little as she shifted again. Her arm was sore, the pressure of the fall having irritated the fresh tattoo. Maybe it was not a good divvus for a ride after all.

[Jehan Chumomisto]

The wind in his hears and desperation in his heart he moved on punching Fonso with his legs to continue his speed. He was confident that he was going to win, he had noticed his sister needed to slow down to follow the path that she did but he had taken one that could easily be run on at top speed. When he came out of the path he seen that there was Kizzy, he swore to himself until he realized that Gitana wasn’t on it, The path that he had taken seemed to have led to the one that Gitana had but he was able to slow down much easier because he knew that he needed to before Kizzy did.

Jehan dismounted Fonso and walked over to Kizzy guiding him back gently but with urgency. “Where is Gitana?” he asked as though he expected to get an answer from the horse. He swallowed when he seen the depth of the chasm he stood at. He knew where she was.

He peered over the side when Kizzy was off the ledge looking for any trace of his sister. Nothing that he could see. His throat became dry, it was a nasty looking fall, she would of hand to been lucky not to impale herself mortally on some of the rocks. . . Luck hopefully something that he had helped her with only moments ago. Their childhood flashed before his eyes, them growing up, learning together, playing everything. Tears began to swell in his eyes as he turned around and knelt down to the ground grabbing some rocks and getting a foot hold.

“Stay if you ca, run if you must” he told the horses knowing they would run back home. He should have sent them there, they would have received help for them. He didn’t have anything with him that would be able to help if she was very hurt, but he couldn’t think of that now.

He was climbing down, or attempting to at any rate. He had no experience in the matter but he would rather fall than let Gitana be stuck down there by herself. He would move fast, carelessly grabbing anything that he could. He was willing to fall if he had to, but he would try not to. The grips would be hard, but he’d try to manage. If it came to the option of falling of staying where he was Jehan would fall. He had luck, he would be able to make it down he believed. He could only hope that Gitana’s had improved because of his gift.

He heard her faintly and looked down still unable to see anything. “Gitana! Mandi coming Mandi Pena! Stay tight” he would scream. He didn’t yell…he screamed it as he sped up his climb. She was alive at the very least…for now. His heart rate sped up, he was so excited by still worried. Had she been calling from her death bed? A last moments struggle? He couldn’t remember the tone of her voice now, only that he had heard it.

[Rafael Espadas]

Jehan's frantic cries were easily caught by Gitana, who was doing a good job of cleaning the grime and washing her wound with the stream water. The water was strangely cold, and utterly refreshed the female gypsy, the singing stream bobbing along the creek further down where Gitana's eyes could not follow beyond the veil of trees.

Meanwhile, intrepid Jehan was moving down quickly, crouched down as he half-slid, half crawled down the steep slope. It seemed he was going to make it just fine, when his foot got caught in a thick buttress root, and inertia doing the rest, making him land on his face into a deep puddle of drying mad.

The sudden motion and the sweet aroma of the clay filled his nostrils; before the disgustingly cold and offending clayey texture covered his face and threatened to move into his nostrils and lips.

Gitana at the same span of time was suddenly surrounded by little Blue Gnomes, the paint on their face instantly giving their identities away. None truly came up to her hips, but they faces were curled up into a sneer. Each one seemed meaner than the other as they slowly moved to form a circle around the gypsy. No weapons were drawn, and even though these creatures were short, they would overcome the girl with sheer numbers alone.

"W'at yer be doin' here in de Dolwoods, lassie?" One of them rasped, arms crossed, seeming unimpressed no matter what the girl was going to say. They've stopped encroaching on her personal space after they stood about three paces away, and didn't seem to be of an immediate threat... yet.

Gitana might not know it, but Jehan was within earshot, just slightly less than a hundred meters away, behind a bush and nursing more of a bruised ego as mud slide down his face and hair.

"Pay respects to King Bettelgrim of de Dolwood." Another one of those little Blue Gnomes uttered excitedly, their hands waving and sweeping toward one of them, who didn't exactly look like a King in any mannerism or bearing, and if any, was perhaps an inch taller than all the rest of them.

The Blue Gnome in the meantime, seemed contented with the title and the show of authority, and was giving Gitana a look as if waiting for her to pay homage to him. Of course, it was all up to Gitana how she was going to do it, if she was going to do it.

[Gitana Chumomisto]

"Jehan!" Gitana turned slightly, looking back towards the cliff where she'd fallen as she heard him call her name. He'd heard her and that was a good thing. She just hoped he hadn't fallen as well. Didn't look that way, not if the area she'd tumbled into was anything to go by. That was good, very good. Maybe she wouldn't have to go for an aimless walk through the Dolwoods after all.

She was in the process of standing up just as she became aware of other presences around her. She remained crouching, eyes wide as she looked around her at the tiny little things. Ugly things. And a decent number of them that made her suddenly wish that her brother would show up already rather than dwaddling and doing whatever it was that he was doing. "Jehaaan.." Her voice rose out of her in a bit of a frantic whine, but she subdued herself, staring around her and pivoting slightly on her feet, still bent and crouched as she was, to make note of their numbers. Yes, too many of them.

It was tempting, really, to kick them. Or to try and step on them. No...okay...that last one wasn't really that tempting, not if it meant gnome goo being stuck on the bottom of her boot. Besides, they were a little too big for that. They might not have had any weapons drawn, but the look of them made her uncomfortable.

"Kek," she responded, voice harsh, and when she spoke again it was in a tangent of Aire, the language hard and fluting. They probably wouldn't understand. "Mandi keck pester pakiv. Ambria, jal avree! Jal avree, narked bitti bengs!"

And then, lastly. "Jehan!"

[Jehan Chumomisto]

He was a much better climber than he had though, but he didn’t have time to gloat in his new found skill or comfort the stinging of his hands and knees or butt from sliding down the side of this cliff. He paid no attention to the pain, he would feel it the next brightening that much was for sure. But now he was in a state of panic, he might as well have been climbing down a mountain of pillows than this jagged cliff. Stress and worry blocked out all other worldly things such as pain and in times common sense.

It however didn’t block out mistakes. As Jehan’s foot got caught and sent him over the end he figured he was done for. He would land on a large spiked rock and it would impale him through the guy and Gitana would be left here to die. He had killed his little sister…

He didn’t have long to brew on the thought but to him it seemed like it was ages as he fell into some drying mud. He lay there forgetting nearly everything else. What had happened and where Gitana was. He could smell the drying clay and soon was tasting it as he lay there waiting for death. Waiting to feel the pain of the rock that had killed him even though it wasn’t there. His mind was rattled and he was now accepting his fate. He could hear his sister speaking to something but couldn’t hear the words.

That is until she cried his name. It rang straight through to his core and he pulled himself up out of the mud. “Mulo later” he mumbled to himself as he took off to the direction that he heard his sisters voice in.

If he came upon the scene of his sister being surrounded by small gnomes he wouldn’t think, he would just act. Pain aside, disorientation becoming clear instantly in a moment o protectivness against his sister. He would run as fast as he could pulling out his blow-gun. He would run at the nearest and smallest gnome and punt kick him as hard as he could, hopefully with enough force to actually take it off the ground and a decent distance. He would then pull out his blowgun and shoot a single dart at the one that was closest to Gitana that seemed like the leader.

He would then dash off towards Gitana standing in front of her arms out, kicking or pushing any gnomes in his way.

Assuming he hit the gnome he would call out “You will Muller’d be in brightening if you cure can’t find...Gypsy Amria you have been” he pointed at the gnome still with his blowgun out. He could use it to hit these tiny beings if he needed to.

If he had missed he would shoot again from this spot sure that he wouldn’t miss. He may have only had basic training but a target this size would be easy to hit even from where he had started.

[Rafael Espadas]

As Gitana barked out her cry and defiance in Aire, the Blue Gnomes have resorted to arguing amongst themselves, their own language a series of shrilled and highly clipped sounds, mixed with the occasional growl and . They seemed unfamiliar with the Gypsy langugage, which gave them a somewhat puzzled expression, if the drawing down of their brows and pulling back of their jaws to expose rather stubby rotting teeth was a look of confusion, that is. None seemed to be excessively threatening toward the girl as of yet.

Finally, after what seemed to be moment of reconciliation among the Gnomes, the leader, by the name of Bettlegrim stepped forward, his facial structures hard to discern beneath the coat of blue paint that was drawn harshly over his bones and eye sockets.

"You will--"

The King didn't manage to finish his own setence before an avenging Jehan appeared, and with a hard smack to where the sun doesn't sun, he sent one of the eight little creatures flying... well not so much gracefully, but he did lift off the ground for a few feet before landing -- no, crashing into the bark of a tree as he dropped and laid down in an unconscious heap.

The rest of the Gnomes seemed shocked and completely stared at Jehan Chumomisto as if he was a spirit that had risen from beneath the greens and had come to slay each and everyone of them.

The dart emerged from the blow pipe, and also struck the intended target, only it didn't quite achieve the desired effect. The feathered needle was impaled on the large forehead of the flatten skull, seeming not to be causing anything more than a superficial wound, and King Bettlegrim seemed more annoyed than in pain with the fact that a very sharp needle was stuck halfway between his eyes. He crossed his arms, and seemed perfectly unimpressed, looking at Jehan like the way an impatient mother would glance at a unrepentant child.

The rest of the Blue Gnomes behind quickly formed a protective layer around their ward, weapons drawn -- consisting of wickedly curved scimitars, albeit blunt, but would still hurt a lot if inflicted, small daggers caked with strange colors, while the King stood firm on the ground, unbudging.

"You will say sorry an' beg for de King to forgive, or you never get out of Dolwood!" One of them rasped, his yellowish eyes twinkling with a mixture of dread, but surely an accomplished liar like Jehan would be able to catch on a lie if there was one. Only there wasn't.

[Gitana Chumomisto]

Jehan came to the rescue!

If one could consider his attempts at dissuading the gnomes to run off a rescue. He failed, if that was his pursue. They didn't run off, they didn't hide. In the face of the larger enemy, they gathered around their king with their weapons drawn and looked prepared to defend themselves with shiny weapons that made Gitana wary. They were small, but many needles pricked into the skin could hurt if enough pressure was applied.

She reached for her talvia, pulling at the scarf so that it came loose from around her waist. She curled the clothe around her clenched hand once, but kept her other hand loose in the fabric as she watched the gnomes. To them it was perhaps just a pretty length of clothe, all green and carefully stitched decorative yellow designs along its borders. She did not jerk the talvia so that the metal barbs came free; She didn't want to have to spend all darkening fixing them back into place with thread and needle if it turned out she didn't need it.

"We'll find our own way out, bitti bengs. We don't need some blue-faced beng to show us how to get out." But even she was wary of the lie in that statement. Weren't the Dolwoods known for their misdirection? And she could see no way up the edge of the cleft she'd just tumbled off of. She hoped the horses were safe.

[Jehan Chumomisto]

Jehan cleared his throat and began to speak common to the small ugly beasts. “You king will die if not cure found for the dart” he said strongly again watching as they drew their weapons. He knew nothing of these small races besides what he had seen looming around when the vardos were parked. He had been opinionless on them but now, he hated the very fiber of their being. He didn’t let anybody threaten his sister, even if that meant he was about to die now he wouldn’t take it back.

His bluff was good, it wasn’t the first time he had used it and it wasn’t the first time that Gitana had heard it. It may or may not help them, it was a matter of time. “Poisoned” he said pointing to the one he had hit with the dart standing straight his blow gun still in his hand. He could use it as a club if he needed to though he would rather not. “Gypsy poison, work swift. Two candlemarks most time. You help we help.”
he said slowly looking at the fowl beasts.

“Air'riela do not beg” Jehan retorted strongly. There were other things that he could have said, about curses on those that kill a gypsy but he didn’t. Not yet. He needed to see if they would buy his first act and if they didn’t chances are they wouldn’t buy that line.