'Ello again! :D I got a bit of a writing jag going so I wrote another short fic. More about Yautja culture. Enjoy :)
Disclaimer: I own the characters Sar'idikk and the mother, Peanutchan from DeviantArt owns Tituga. The rest of the universe belongs to 20th Century FOX and/or Dark Horse Comics.
Note: Pics of my fic and characters can be seen on my DeviantArt account. I use the same pen name there. ;)
I looked up some Yautja vocab online, and added some of my own as well to this story. My words are marked by *.
WORD BANK:
Dai'chau = Daughter; endering term, informal*
Mu'ksaya = Mother; endering term, informal*
Ma'ch-paya = Matriarch; title, formal*
Usl'cha-tkan = Final mercy; last request of dying of a Yautja*
Ka'rik'na = A summoning; calling others together
Lou'dte Kalei = Child maker
Ki'dte = Enough; stop
Mo = No
Aseigan = Servant
Cetanu = God of Death
U'sl-kwe = Final rest
THE FINAL REQUEST
"I grow impatient, my Dai'chaus."
Seated on an elegantly carved throne of metal, marble and bone, an elderly Yautja spoke. Time showed in every wrinkle on her face, and every crease could tell a story. Her spotted markings were fading, and her tan skin sagged about her jowls. But her yellow eyes burned. Leaning back into her ornamented chair, the Elder toyed with one of her mandibles, chewing the tip slowly – a habit she had developed when her teeth began disappearing. "…And I am growing too old."
In front of her, two younger female Yautja knelt on a large animal skin across the stony floor. The shared a similar spotted pattern across their body, in kind with the Old one. The largest Yautja out of the three sat to the right of the Elder and faced her. She had small, dark, cat-like spots and a light-colored belly. She had no crest to speak of and was adorned with gold jewelry. The Yautja on the left facing the Elder was the smallest of the three, with lighter, larger spots and the same creamy belly color. Her crown bore two curved horns on each side of her brow and her smaller body was dressed in silver.
They were in a small sitting area, connected to a large, stone building with many rooms and hallways. Intricate pictures and sculptures were hand-chizzled into each and every wall with careful detail, telling stories of their family history. This was the norm for ancient houses, with even older families. What was once a humble cave in the beginning was morphed, generation by generation, into a large and complicated series of room and chambers. All for the growing clan.
Very familiar was this place to the two sisters - it was here they were born and raised. Although they remembered this room as a place of business for their mother - where Ka'rik'na would take place. Rare was it for them to be in this room as they grew up. Odd was it for her to call her daughters to meet in here...
Silently, they exchanged glances while the Old one observed them. They avoided direct eye contact with her, knowing in her age that the Elder's temper flared at a pin drop. The last thing they wished to do was insult their mother. Heavy, sweet-smelling insents burned and filled the room, creating a sleepy atmosphere - a common scent in their clan's house. Despite this calming fragrance however, the Old one was agitated.
"Too old, my Dai'chaus! My whelping days are long passed…and many moons have gone by since I birthed your youngest brother. Another brother…too many brothers!" Again, the Old ones' voice rose, a snarl at the end of her words. Her memories seemed to have distracted her from what she meant to say, and the scent of frustration wafted through her sitting chamber.
Her ancient musk was heavy - a mix of old body and lingering pheromones. She no longer attempted to control herself, and seemed to relish her primal instinct fueling her moods. Or vice-versa. It was very easy for her to live a reactive-life in her old age; She cared little about how her words and scent triggered others. This lack of control always made dealing with their mother, or any grumpy Elder, a challenge - Old ones are to be greatly respected, and anything less is viewed as an insult. So no matter how hostile they may become, tradition and honor dictate that any Elder must be dealt with as politely as possible.
Tituga, the largest, already sensitive to her mother's growing anger, thrummed out gently, trying to appease, "You birthed strong sons. There is much honor in that, Mu'ksaya."
A curt snort answered the large female abruptly, the Elder twisting briefly in her throne. She regarded her younger daughter with narrowed, glowing eyes, "Males enjoy sons. Males boast of strong sons." The Old one's words were sharp and low. "Your situation aboard the Dechende must have muddled your brain Dai'chau, for you to even think to say such a thing."
A slow inhale with closed eyes helped Tituga steady herself, trying to keep from being offended by her mother's tone and aggressive musk. A glance at her older but smaller sister, Sar'idikk, helped calm her. They both knew how difficult it could be to speak with their mother.
She was a Matriarch in her prime, which is why Tituga was an obvious choice for a successor. And although many seasons had gone by since she held that title, she still behaved the same. She still barked out orders at kin and stranger alike, and had no problem sharing her opinions.
Watching her daughters sit in silence, the Elder played with her mandible again, calming herself. She had not seen them in a long time, and she was eager to share with them her last will. Perhaps her words were too harsh too soon...
Lacing together her long, bony, ringed fingers, the Old one chirred to her daughters with more softness in her voice.
"Males have a set existence. Always coveting honor and glory, always celebrating with other males. Always chasing the biggest trophy and the most honor. Fathers, Brothers, Uncles, Cousins. They're blood runs thick with drive to conquer and hunt. Boasting of their father's and grandfather's lineage. Though they know to respect her, rare is it that they visit the female who birthed them, for their lives are consumed with the hunt. And too young are your brothers to bring me a pup to enjoy when they do visit…", Loneliness rung in the Old one's tone, her eyes dropping momentarily. Again the sisters exchanged a confused look, listening quietly.
Clearing her dry, aging throat the Elder spoke up again, purpose in her voice, "Daughters bring more than honor. Females carry with them more spirit and wisdom. Why do you think it is a female that walks the path of spiritual devotion? That the males will seek out the eldest Priestess for a blessing on their hunt or for guidance? Because it is we that possess the womb from which all are brought forth.
"Daughters ensure that our bloodline will go on and that tradition is passed from Elder to pup properly. Females help each other rear pups, and strengthen the blood bond of the family. Males have commrodery; females have family. Males offer strength and recognition, but females provide structure.
"But not every female can enjoy this honor of Lou-dte Kalei. Pup-rearing is for all, yes, but not birthing them. You both know as well as I that while any female can conceive, it is only the strongest who are allowed." She leaned forward, her long, graying dreadlocks falling off of her shoulders and hanging loosely about her face. She peered at her daughters with a long, hard stare. "…And I grow impatient that my only daughters, who have already achieved a life of honor and are of breeding age and standard…have not brought me one single pup."
The Old one emphasized her last words with a belly growl, her skeletal hands reaching out to each daughter and cupping their chins, her knuckles forcing their head's up to look at her. Sar'idikk's mint-green eyes fluttered in disbelief when they locked with her mother's amber orbs, while Tituga's lime-colored eyes only widened in horror. The Elder allowed a moment of her piercing glare to sink into her daughter's before she released them and leaned back into her throne.
Sar'idikk puzzled at her mother, her jeweled brow steepening in irritation. "But you know of my illness. The doctor's sai—"
"I was the one who cared for you during your horrific fevers did I not! And the doctors said it was unlikely - not impossible. You've never tried - no excuse!" The Elder went to turn to her younger daughter, but paused and silenced the again protesting Sar'idikk with another gargled hiss. "Ki'dte!"
While Sar'idikk tried to keep her agitation at bay, the Old one spun to Tituga, her gaze fierce. "And what say you Dai'chau? What is your word on this matter, Ma'ch-paya?"
The Elder's breath was hot on Tituga's face. The musk she had grown up with that helped comfort her as a child flooded her senses, making her feel small. Her mother called her by the title she had so pridefully accepted, but from her mouth it sounded awkward and chiding. Tituga wasn't used to the receiving end of a scolding, and regaining her composure as quickly as she could, she found her voice.
"Surely there are pups from your sister's children you can enjoy..."
The Elder almost reeled back in her chair, pounding her fist on the arm of it, her voice loud, "You test me Child! You know better! They're too weak! Too small! They serve this clan but do not have the blood to lead it! They are family but you know that they are not worthy! The strongest birth stronger, the weak birth weaker! And I require the strongest pups to carry on our bloodline!"
Rising out of her thrown the old one towered over her kneeling daughters, snatching up the walking staff leaning against her chair. Angrily she thumped it against the floor, stalking away from her daughters. Out of habit and respect the sisters dropped their gaze to the floor, leery of inciting more anger into the mother with defiant eye contact.
Silence fell onto the room. The raged breathing of the Old one echoed softly against the detailed carvings on the walls. Her outcry was soon answered by the light foot-falls of another Yautja who appeared at one of the entrances to the sitting area, kneeling swiftly when the Elder turned to her. Much smaller than the three others in the room, this female was dressed plainly in animal hides and wore little jewelry. She bore a very slight resemblance to the others as well.
"Mistress requested assistance?" Her voice was feathery and low.
An irritated groan replied, the Old one scowling at the interrupting small one. "Mo. Leave us."
A slight nod of acknowledgement followed the small Yautja's exit. But not before she smiled quickly in her cousins' direction. The sisters nodded back shortly. Watching the subtle interaction between her daughters and servant, the Old one clicked her upper mandibles with annoyance, "An aid to this house is what the the future holds for your cousins and nieces. And no Aseigan is enough to lead this family. You both know that."
After a moment to collect herself the Elder surveyed her daughters. Languidly, she circled behind them, stopping between the sisters. Her voice was low again when she spoke.
"I was the Ma'ch-paya. You know that from my womb comes the strongest females. From my blood comes a successor." The reserve in the Old one's tone was surprising, but it could not hide the pride she felt, "I was expected to birth a Ma'ch-paya, and so I tried upon each season. Though the Goddesses gifted me with many sons, I only birth two daughters."
The Elder's wrinkled hand found Sar'idikk's shoulder. "A virus cursed you, my Eldest Dai'chau, robbing you of your true and potential physical form. But it could not take your sharp mind and spirit, nor your cunning will. You can still sire me a Ma'ch-paya." The other aged claw of the Old one fell onto Tituga's shoulder. "And my youngest Dai'chau...the expectation now falls on you. A heavy crown you bare...but you must bare it. A Ma'ch-paya births a Ma'ch-paya. It is the way."
The Elder's voice dropped to a whisper. She gave both daughters a squeeze on the shoulder, closing her tired eyes. "My days grow short. I can sense Cetanu, my U'sl-kwe is near. I have not many seasons left. But I can not rest yet."
Stepping between the sisters the Old one mounted her throne again with a small grunt. Her staff found it's place next to her, and slowly she leaned back into her chair her gaze fixed upon her children. Eagerness and pain shined in her olden eyes, and she sighed slowly. "I require an heir. I wish to hold a pup in my arms that will one day become our new Ma'ch-paya. Grant me this. And I can pass peacefully into the next realm."
Both sisters looked up, their expressions stoic. They knew what they had to do. An Elder's last request was not to be ignored, especially from their mother. The Old one's yellow eyes switched back and forth between her daughters, gratification creeping into them. "So my Dai'chaus. What say you? Will you accept my Usl'cha-tkan?"
Bowing their heads again, both Sar'idikk and Tituga spoke at the same time, their voices in monotone, "Yes Mu'ksaya. We accept."