Themba
" Ya should be ashamed of yaself! Makin ya brudda work in da heat when he be sick! An' tryin' ta keep it from ya Mat'a! What be wrong witchoo, girl?" Erzuli was furiously grinding some herbs together in a pestle and mortar, not even watching as she scolded her youngest daughter. Themba bowed her head, hoping it would seem as if she were remorseful for her imaginary transgression. No dice.
"Mat'a, I'm sorry, but he be just a little stomach sick-"
"Sorry don't be cuttin' it, child." She grabbed more herbs and tossed them in the mortar, "Last ting we wants is for him to get da fever like ya sista did, Bwonsamdi guide her spirit." Themba felt a twinge of empathy at the invocation of her oldest sister. Themba never knew her, but according to Den'ze, she was a beautiful child, taken away by an unknown illness some months before her fourteenth summer.
"But Mat'a, its nothin' serious! He be fine in de mornin'. An' besides, he told me not ta tell ya! He knew you be worried if I did."
"Den he should be ashamed, too. He shoulda known I'd find out somehow. You just lucky Thabo knows not ta keep a damn ting from his Mat'a!" She poured the mixture into a little pouch, "Now, you go to him an' bring him 'dese. Brew a strong tea for him usin' da herbs, an' make sure he drink it all." Erzuli said as she handed the pouch to her daughter. Themba looked inside and sniffed, nearly gagging on the putrid scent.
"Ya sure dis won' kill him faster?"
"Don't get smart wit me, child! Now go on, get outta 'ere before I whoop ya ass some more. Make sure to get dere before sunset an' stay de night; ya don' wanna be out an' about at night wit dem Northwatch dirtbags patrolin'. An' make sure he be fine before ya comes home, okies?"
"Yes, Mat'a..." Themba said as she headed to her room to pack a rucksack. Thabo was there, lounging on his hammock, reading a Skinning guide. Themba shot him a murderous glance, "Ya had to tell de old woman, did ya?"
"I felt she shoulda known. Ya knows how she worries." He said indignantly, not even bothering to look up from his book.
"But Den tol' me not ta tell her, for dat exact reason, ya dumbass!" She shoved some clothes into the bag, trying to convince herself that striking her twin, while possibly the most entertaining and gratifying option, would not be the wisest decision right now, "Wat in da Nether is ya problem? You always gotta go tellin her wat we specifically tell ya not to. One o' dese days, when someting big goes down, ya gonna be left out in de cold, mon. I tink it be pretty damn bad when ya sista and brudda can't trust ya. Ya knows Den'ze gonna be pissed." Themba closed the bag and walked towards the doorway.
"Wateva, don' care. Not my problem, it be yours. Sooner or latah' you be runnin', cryin' when ya needs me." He smirked.
"Oh for fuck sakes. Go stand in da fire." She called to him as she stormed out of the house.
Zolani was still waiting patiently by the porch, as if she had overheard the whole exchange and knew Themba might need her.
"You be one o' da few I can count on, eh girl?" Themba whispered to the Raptor and patted her. She waved to her father, who was chatting intently with some Watchers, mounted up, and took off.
Vanora
"So..." She said, drawing it out, staring at her hands.
"'So...' What?"
"So, what happened to my dress?"
"Oh, dat. Ya dress." Den'ze rubbed the back of his head, "Well, ahem, ya see, it be soakin' wet, an' dirty, an' ya know, raggity... It not really be a suitable piece a clothing. So I had-I mean I decided... Well, I jus' figured it had ta go... So I..."
"So you what?" Vanora's cheeks were blazing red, but not out of embarrassment.
"I had ta cut it off. Didn't really wanna, but I thought it be da easiest way ta get it off ya..."
"That... Raggity dress was the only thing I had left from my mother. She gave it to me before she died..."
"I be sorry! I mean dat, but it was cold! You woulda froze in da wet dress. Dis may be a desert, but it be gettin' pretty damn cool at night!"
"So you just expect me to prance around here completely naked for Light knows how long? How is that better than a raggity, dirty dress?" Vanora snapped.
"I-ah... It, uh... Er... Sorry?"
"Never mind!" she sighed impatiently, "Where are the scraps?"
"On de floor beside ya bed..."
"And the locket?"
"La-lock it?"
"Yes, locket. Its a necklace, shaped like a heart. It opens up and you can put something inside of it. I was wearing it when... Before the ship sank... Where is it?"
"I got no idea; dere be no lock-it when I found ya, dere be no lock-it now." Den'ze said sympathetically. Vanora's heart sank. Curiosity overrided her animosity, leaving her quietly perplexed. 'Why the Hell would that girl give it to me in the first place?' she wondered.
"I could always... Make ya a new one... Dress, I mean..." Den'ze said tentatively, mistaking her silence for anger.
Before Vanora could respond, they heard heavy foot-steps approaching the house. Den'ze turned a pale blue, reached under the bed and produced a Dirk.
"Get down, be quiet." He whispered, placing a finger against his lips.
Vanora needed no other hint. She slid out of bed, ducking beside it. Den'ze crouched slightly, then noiselessly crept towards the door, the dagger hidden behind his back. The closer he got to the door, the farther under the bed Vanora slid. The rough wooden floor scratched her bare thighs and stomach as she pushed herself under the bed. Breathing slowly, deeply, Vanora tried to calm herself. Her heart was thumping so hard she was sure Den'ze could hear it.
The sound of footsteps stopped abruptly, replaced by hard breathing, and a chirping sort of noise. Den'ze straightened slightly, cocking an ear towards the door. He smirked and relaxed when a loud screech was heard. Vanora screamed and jumped at the fright, banging her head against the bed frame.
"Relax, mon. It only be Zolani." Den'ze said smoothly, as if he weren't just at the ready to attack.
"What the fuck is a Zol-whatever you said?" Vanora asked as she climbed out from under the bed, still shaking from the whole ordeal. She rubbed her head, which at the moment really hurt.
"Zo-La-Ni. She be my mount. A beautiful one at dat. My Raptor."
"A Raptor? Seriously? You have a freaking Raptor?"
"Ya, she my mount. Ya know, like a horse."
"I know what a mount is!" she snapped, "But why a Raptor?"
"Why not?" He shrugged, "Orcs have dere Wolves, Tauren got dere Kodos, we got our Raptors."
"And I thought the Gnomes were crazy..." Vanora muttered, shaking her head. Den'ze chuckled. She sat back on the bed, and wrapped the thin sheet back around herself. Den'ze strode over and sat next to her.
"Who did you think that was, just then?" She asked despondently.
"Dunno. No one really. Jus' bein' cautious."
"So your definition of caution is hiding someone under a bed while you grab a scary dagger and creep towards the door, ready to slice and dice whomever is on the other side?"
"Nah, I don't slice and dice; dat be a Rogue ting." He laughed at her puzzled expression, "Nevamind, da main ting is we gotta be very cautious, we dunno who be out dere and wat dey be wantin'. Der be enemies everywhere. If anyone finds out I be hidin' you here... Well, lets jus' say it won't be pretty for eitha of us..."
"We can't really trust anyone, then, can we?" Vanora felt a tight feeling well up in her chest.
"Not really, no."
"Not even each other?"
"Well, I tink ya can trust me, and I be hopin' I can trust you."
"Despite the circumstances," Vanora said, taking his hand in hers, "I think you probably can." She smiled up at him. Den'ze looked down and saw tears pool in her eyes. Pulling her close, he ran his other hand through the tangles of her dark hair, murmuring beautiful sounding words in his language. They had both been through a lot in their short lives, but hers has been especially difficult. This particular day seemed to be the longest of her life, one of the hardest, maybe even one of the best. She had escaped her uncle and a life of brutal servitude, even a sure death, thanks to this strangely kind creature. She had even made something as close to a friend as she ever had in her whole, pitiful existence. Vanora had been given a second chance, a new beginning.
'This Troll is risking everything to help me. I should be grateful... I just can't escape this feeling that it's about to get much worse...' She wondered.
As soon as that darkly possessing thought passed through her mind, the door creaked open.