Kishivara, Lysadana (NPC)


Kishivara tells her mentor about her conversation with Reveka and Daenerys.


Takes place directly after social-faux-pas


Kishivara's Wagon

OOC Date 19 Jan 2018 07:00



"Even the strongest root can be pulled if it gets too troublesome."

Kishivara slips her shoes off after entering the wagon and closing the door behind her. She leaves her socks on to avoid getting splinters from one of the rougher patches of floor. Her gloves and scarf are quickly tugged off and placed on a side-table. As she begins untying her purse from her waist, someone calls out from further in the wagon, "how'd it go?"

"Fine," she says without looking up. "Didn't get anything super great, but. Marks." Marks were always a good acquisition even if she's past getting excited about them. She makes a triumphant sound upon successfully undoing the final knot holding the bad in place. With pride glimmering on her face, she walks down the short hall of the wagon and into a curtained-off room.

Lysadana is standing in front of a small wood-burning stove stirring a pot of stew. When she sets the purse down beside it, she nods but doesn't say anything. A little bit of the excitement leaves Kishivara's features.

"…I spoke to some people while I was out," she offers after a heartbeat. "Think they were Zingari."

That makes her mentor stop stirring. "Oh?" The older woman still doesn't look at her, but her stiffness tells her she's listening.

It is due to a conscious effort that she keeps herself from looking too excited about the attention. She forces herself to keep her nod small and her voice cool. "Yeah, they were warning me about selling near them, said the leader might not like it and it'd be a bad idea, 'cause they're all big 'n bad 'n scary and rot." A tiny frown begins to crease her face. "Do you think they'll actually be a threat?" Although the way she leans against the wall after speaking suggests nonchalance and there is no anxiety to be found in her voice, she knows that her mentor knows her well enough to know that she's at least a little concerned.

She also knows that that's why she scoffs.

"I've heard of the Zingari," she says. "I've heard of a lot of groups." She resumes stirring the pot and waves her free hand dismissively.

Kishivara gently bites down on her lower lip. "The lady I spoke to said they're far spread. Rooted."

This time, Lysadana's voice carries an edge that suggests annoyance. It makes her straighten up just so she can take a step back. "I told you, I've heard of them. Even the strongest root can be pulled if it gets too troublesome." She turns around to set her piercing gaze upon her apprentice. "If we get caught, we find a way to shut them up. Say we can't do that - what happens then?"

"We… leave?" Kishivara tentatively answers.

Lysadana nods briskly. "We leave. We're not going to stay forever anyway and word their word won't be able to follow us across the continent. But the Zingari are far-spread and rooted - what happens if they decide to follow us?" She doesn't wait to give her the chance to answer. "They probably won't send more than one or two people after two nomads. They definitely won't send an entire caravan." Her voice takes on a subtle coldness completely different from the warning edge she'd heard before. It sends a shiver down her spine. "No one can speak with their tongue cut out. Or do anything from four feet underground."

Silence hangs between them for a moment. It's broken by Lysadana's chuckle. "You weren't foolish enough to think I'd never upset anyone before, were you?"

No, she wasn't. But there was a difference between thinking something and hearing it confirmed. This is the life you chose, she quickly reminds herself. Get over it. It was her goal to be just like Lysadana one day. Being unsettled by little things like shallow graves and missing tongues wouldn't be helpful.

With another chuckle and dismissive handwave, her mentor turns back to the stew. "They'll stop sending people when they realize they're wasting resources. Something similar'll happen if someone else catches us, or myself. If they only catch you…" she uses her free hand to poke at the purse on the stove. "You're young. Worse that'll happen is they'll cut off your hand."

A hearty laugh echoes through the wagon.

Kishivara shivers.

By morning, she'll have willed away her goosebumps and forgotten the joke.

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