There might be some stylistic changes about halfway through, though I kinda expect that. I also type stuff up in Notepad because MSWord has a habit of killing my computer as of late, so I'm also expecting a random typo here and there, no matter how much I try to avoid them. But what I'm really looking for is opinions and critique on the overall style, and how to minimize the impact of a style change when I've left something to sit for too long on my hard drive xp
Before I begin: yes, it does have Lyshev. No, it is not in any way currently related to any 'canon' storyline I have going with him and Seishak. I started this as a way to look into Kresari culture, and since Lyshev was my original Kresari character (by only half), I decided to see how someone with his circumstances would be accepted by a caravan 3nodding
Quote:
"Ysta! Get your head out of the clouds, boy, and pay attention to your work!" His mother's sharp, commanding voice and the riding crop that hit him on the shoulder made the teenaged boy jump. "I know that look, boy. Stop staring at the girls and get back to work."
In a hurry to comply with his mother's orders, Ysta swept back his dark hair and resumed his previous task - repairing the wheel to his family's cart. His father, with a broken arm and told by the healer to stay inside as much as possible, couldn't do it, and the caravan would be moving on in a couple of days. So, as the only other man in the cart, it was his job to do the repairs.
After another few hours of making sure everything was just right, he set the wheel back on the cart, trying not to jar anything too much and wake his father. With his chores finished, he could finally go and really admire the person he was staring at before.
Unlike what his mother had thought, Ysta did not really fancy the girls his own age; it didn't matter that the girls were forbidden to him. In fact, the man he had been admiring for the past several days was nearly his father's age, but still unmarried and quite handsome.
Lyshev - the outsider that was allowed to stay because of his Kresari blood. With his honey-blonde hair and unique hazel eyes, many people admired his looks from afar, but waited for him to prove himself. In Ysta's mind, the blonde had already done just that, by daring to take the challenge presented to him without fuss or complaint. He only proved himself further with each leering harassment of his handiwork, using the derision to fix even the smallest of mistakes and create a true masterpiece. Ysta wondered if his kinsmen realized what they were really driving the outsider to do.
By now, the outsider's cart was nearly finished - devoid only of the personal touches that marked it as belonging to Lyshev Kirrith... and whomever he chose to marry in time. "It looks very nice. You did a good job," Ysta said quietly, approaching the older man with some caution. He'd seen the blonde easily lifting things he and his father had trouble with even together, so it was clear that this outsider was no pushover.
Slightly startled by the boy's approach, Lyshev turned around to see who was talking. He gave a kind smile and just nodded slightly. "Thank you. I only hope I can help contribute to the rest of the caravan," he replied, sitting down and stripping off his shirt.
Ysta stared for a moment, unable to help himself when he saw how well-built the man was up close. If Lyshev even noticed, he gave no mention to it. "I'm sorry, I don't know your name, but I've seen you around a lot and I feel like I should know," the blonde said amiably after a moment of studying the boy.
"My name is Ysta Ashkuril. You're Lyshev Kirrith... My dad knew your grandparents," the dark-haired boy blurted out, feeling like an idiot the instant he did so.
Instead of chastising Ysta, though, the tall man leaned closer with an interested air. "Really? My mother never talked about my grandparents. I wish I'd known them."
The two talked for hours, right up until sunset, when Ysta's mother called for his help in making dinner. "It's nice to have someone to talk to, Ysta. You can come by anytime."
"Thank you," the young teenager smiled, leaving the blonde to cook and eat his own dinner alone. Having grown up with people around him at all times, all of whom willing to help him and keep him entertained, the thought of being alone triggered a deep sense of pity for the outsider. How awful it must be to live alone, even among so many people, and to be constantly harassed simply because you weren't born among them.
The feeling passed as Ysta helped his mother prepare their food. He hoped that the child his mother was pregnant with would be a girl, so that he didn't have to help with so much of the domestic work in their family. Domestic jobs belonged to the women; Ysta should be out helping the men in hunting parties, not assisting his mother in cleaning the kills that were brought back.
During their dinner, Ysta's father brought up a sudden change in the conversation. "Ysta, I think you should consider being abashyan." The unexpected announcement nearly caused the teenager to choke on his stew, but he managed to swallow and stare at his father.
"What? Why?" The Kresari tradition of abashyan was meant to keep boys his own age from causing a pregnancy out of wedlock by attaching them to older, unmarried men in a steady relationship. Although many outsider cultures looked at the abashyan couples as perverts of nature, it did work. Still, Ysta hadn't thought his father would be pushing him to start a relationship with an older man.
"You're a young man now, with a man's urges. Your mother saw you looking at the girls earlier, and I think it's time you learned how to have a steady relationship with someone else before you marry."
That did explain it. Ysta nodded, drinking some more stew from the shallow bowl in his hands in an attempt to keep his expression neutral. Although the thought of having a relationship with an older man - either sexual or otherwise - appealed to him, the matter still remained of beginning the abashyan.
An older man couldn't simply approach a boy Ysta's age and request to become abashyan. Even in Kresari culture, it was considered taboo for a man more than a few years older than a teenager himself to take such a marked interest in having a largely sexual relationship with one. The younger partner had to initiate the relationship, and would ultimately be the one to end it as well.
Ysta knew who he wanted to be abashyan with, but the matter still remained of asking him in the first place. On top of his own nervousness was the fact that Lyshev was not fully accepted by the rest of the group, and Ysta might be partially shunned by the people he'd grown up with by initiating the relationship. It wasn't an easy decision, and it didn't have to be made... but it was what Ysta wanted.
In a hurry to comply with his mother's orders, Ysta swept back his dark hair and resumed his previous task - repairing the wheel to his family's cart. His father, with a broken arm and told by the healer to stay inside as much as possible, couldn't do it, and the caravan would be moving on in a couple of days. So, as the only other man in the cart, it was his job to do the repairs.
After another few hours of making sure everything was just right, he set the wheel back on the cart, trying not to jar anything too much and wake his father. With his chores finished, he could finally go and really admire the person he was staring at before.
Unlike what his mother had thought, Ysta did not really fancy the girls his own age; it didn't matter that the girls were forbidden to him. In fact, the man he had been admiring for the past several days was nearly his father's age, but still unmarried and quite handsome.
Lyshev - the outsider that was allowed to stay because of his Kresari blood. With his honey-blonde hair and unique hazel eyes, many people admired his looks from afar, but waited for him to prove himself. In Ysta's mind, the blonde had already done just that, by daring to take the challenge presented to him without fuss or complaint. He only proved himself further with each leering harassment of his handiwork, using the derision to fix even the smallest of mistakes and create a true masterpiece. Ysta wondered if his kinsmen realized what they were really driving the outsider to do.
By now, the outsider's cart was nearly finished - devoid only of the personal touches that marked it as belonging to Lyshev Kirrith... and whomever he chose to marry in time. "It looks very nice. You did a good job," Ysta said quietly, approaching the older man with some caution. He'd seen the blonde easily lifting things he and his father had trouble with even together, so it was clear that this outsider was no pushover.
Slightly startled by the boy's approach, Lyshev turned around to see who was talking. He gave a kind smile and just nodded slightly. "Thank you. I only hope I can help contribute to the rest of the caravan," he replied, sitting down and stripping off his shirt.
Ysta stared for a moment, unable to help himself when he saw how well-built the man was up close. If Lyshev even noticed, he gave no mention to it. "I'm sorry, I don't know your name, but I've seen you around a lot and I feel like I should know," the blonde said amiably after a moment of studying the boy.
"My name is Ysta Ashkuril. You're Lyshev Kirrith... My dad knew your grandparents," the dark-haired boy blurted out, feeling like an idiot the instant he did so.
Instead of chastising Ysta, though, the tall man leaned closer with an interested air. "Really? My mother never talked about my grandparents. I wish I'd known them."
The two talked for hours, right up until sunset, when Ysta's mother called for his help in making dinner. "It's nice to have someone to talk to, Ysta. You can come by anytime."
"Thank you," the young teenager smiled, leaving the blonde to cook and eat his own dinner alone. Having grown up with people around him at all times, all of whom willing to help him and keep him entertained, the thought of being alone triggered a deep sense of pity for the outsider. How awful it must be to live alone, even among so many people, and to be constantly harassed simply because you weren't born among them.
The feeling passed as Ysta helped his mother prepare their food. He hoped that the child his mother was pregnant with would be a girl, so that he didn't have to help with so much of the domestic work in their family. Domestic jobs belonged to the women; Ysta should be out helping the men in hunting parties, not assisting his mother in cleaning the kills that were brought back.
During their dinner, Ysta's father brought up a sudden change in the conversation. "Ysta, I think you should consider being abashyan." The unexpected announcement nearly caused the teenager to choke on his stew, but he managed to swallow and stare at his father.
"What? Why?" The Kresari tradition of abashyan was meant to keep boys his own age from causing a pregnancy out of wedlock by attaching them to older, unmarried men in a steady relationship. Although many outsider cultures looked at the abashyan couples as perverts of nature, it did work. Still, Ysta hadn't thought his father would be pushing him to start a relationship with an older man.
"You're a young man now, with a man's urges. Your mother saw you looking at the girls earlier, and I think it's time you learned how to have a steady relationship with someone else before you marry."
That did explain it. Ysta nodded, drinking some more stew from the shallow bowl in his hands in an attempt to keep his expression neutral. Although the thought of having a relationship with an older man - either sexual or otherwise - appealed to him, the matter still remained of beginning the abashyan.
An older man couldn't simply approach a boy Ysta's age and request to become abashyan. Even in Kresari culture, it was considered taboo for a man more than a few years older than a teenager himself to take such a marked interest in having a largely sexual relationship with one. The younger partner had to initiate the relationship, and would ultimately be the one to end it as well.
Ysta knew who he wanted to be abashyan with, but the matter still remained of asking him in the first place. On top of his own nervousness was the fact that Lyshev was not fully accepted by the rest of the group, and Ysta might be partially shunned by the people he'd grown up with by initiating the relationship. It wasn't an easy decision, and it didn't have to be made... but it was what Ysta wanted.
