Zipping through trees, bare feet bouncing off of rocks and trunks to propel himself forward in a jovial fashion, Kyle was beyond the picture of elation. A wide grin seemed etched onto his profile, eyes sparkling with satisfaction and a newfound intrigue and personal victory he never thought that he could ever garner. He traveled the familiar path towards the mountains, nearly humming to himself as he raced the setting sun.
'I can't believe it," he thought to himself airily. "An actual human. And he understood me!" he smiled wider. A deep sense of pride wound itself within his stomach, spreading a numbing, comfortable warmth throughout his swift movements against the brisk evening air. In the last few years of studying the humans, he'd never thought that he'd actually have the chance to apply his hard-earned knowledge. It had been a fickle dream at best, one that would keep him awake into the long hours of the night, imagining for himself just what an encounter of that nature would be like. Meeting Kenny had been beyond his hopes, usually finding himself envisioning a human running off in fright or doing nothing more than trying to kill him, try to bring back their unique find to their people. But no, this human felt a mutual fascination, had an air of trust about him that even within his own world, Kyle could rarely seem to find. He believed every word he'd told him, from his name to his swearing to secrecy on their meeting.
The fairy sighed happily, hugging the thick satchel of glass to his chest as he flew forward. He felt renewed, filled with a new sense of purpose that he'd long pushed to the back of his mind. He'd been spinning in circles for so long, but Kenny had completely reopened the door. New opportunities were finally within his grasp, able to look forward to more than just raiding the village now and again for a couple items of worthlessness. This human was his plethora of information, the epitome of everything that he'd worked towards. He could only learn so much through text and brief conversation within earshot as he hid away within the foliage. But now? Now he held the key to more information than he could probably even begin to comprehend.
He hummed lightly, kicking off a large oak and boosting himself upwards in the slightest, ignoring the aggravated song of birds he'd disturbed. He couldn't help but wonder just what it was Kenny wanted to know of him. Maybe he was in Kyle's field, wanted to know absolutely everything about his life within the mountains. Kyle snorted and shook his head. Then again, he knew better than anyone: His life was far from eventful, so stuck in his destined routine that he wondered if he'd ever be able to function without the basis he'd built his entire being upon. Kenny would probably die from boredom before he ever found out all he wanted to know.
Given, he certainly wasn't lingering within the guidelines that so long ago were set upon him, but he still had his path. He just liked to take a couple detours and find the scenic route as he worked himself towards what was to be his ultimate goal for his people.
Kyle glanced to his side at large, jutting rocks beginning to crest the earth, clicking his tongue and keeping his eyes peeled for a bright marker. Gracefully he landed on his feet, sliding to a stop and continuing closer towards the formation and making his way down the line, shifting his parcels wrapped around him tightly. He popped his lips, hearing the clinking of glass muffled from their burlap hold. A quiet sigh escaped him as his eye caught a long red slash down a rock, a natural effect but one used to a particular advantage for himself and the few others who dared venture this far beyond their home. The mark looked just as it felt for the redhead: Harsh and unforgiving. Something that he couldn't just ignore was there, and something that he always had to return to, regardless of whether he wanted to do so or not.
He pouted lightly before forcing himself to take a deep breath, relishing in his last lungful of fresh forest air for the night, letting the aromatic scent of sap and soil nestle itself snugly within his senses. The fairy sighed, eyes drooping as he reminded himself to stay somewhat subdued, to ignore the pure and utter joy dancing through him like lightening. After all, one spark could set the village ablaze, and he'd be damned if it'd be him who caused the destruction.
Lightly, he pressed an open palm against the rock, ears perking for noise before deeming his surroundings safe and his green light beginning to emit from his hand; A wicked sight within the ebbing darkness. He grunted as he began slipping into hollow rock, stepping through the hidden vortex and right into the staunch, wet darkness of the mountain, wings spreading to keep him upright from the drop. The sound of life flowed below him and he let his shoulders droop as he let himself freefall a bit through the tunnel towards the light awaiting him, clutching onto his parcels tightly from the air whipping around him. Color flooded onto him, eyes wincing as they always did going from the abyss into a world of gleaming color and life.
A spark of light flashed in his eye and he groaned, shaking his head and glaring at embedded glass smeared across the hollowed mountainside like watercolor paint. Dapples of different color and glowing light came from each individual piece, each and every attribute crafted and blessed personally for their living comfort. Below him was a forest all its own, trees wide enough for ten faterian to stand arm-to-arm with one another and still not encircle the entire trunk. Kyle glanced around as he continued to fall, watching others continuing about their daily lives, unaware of the vast mischief that their resident lenove'ia had gotten into. He couldn't help the self-righteous smirk, wings finally beginning to flap to slow his descent. He angled his foot back as he neared the ground, catching the slope of a rock and riding it down onto the sturdy ground. He hissed, hopping a bit on his uninjured sole. A bit too hard on the landing yet again.
Kyle glanced around, nodding to a few greetings and turning to head further into the range, dodging people as he made way towards his usual first stop upon returning. He swiftly twisted and turned around those walking, ducking low-fliers as they made their way by in a hurry and rolling his eyes. He wondered if he could start some kind of movement, get a few of the people in his village to move a few miles down into the range to bother one of the other tribes, because this amount of close proximity just never boded well for him. Outside was where he could breathe. In here was where he was stifled by musty air, living beings, and his duties. He sighed, clasping onto his glass bag tighter as he continued to press onward, breaking free of the side of a crowd and towards a rising hill leading to his goal.
"Heeeyyyy Kylenovieee!" a deep, teasing voice perked up. Kyle froze, eyes clenching shut and a raggedy breath breaking through his throat.
"Fucking what?" he snapped, turning to watch a tall group of three approaching him. Three that he'd dealt with since he was a child, and three that never seemed to get off of his fucking back.
The instigator smirked, walking up towards him and flicking his forehead. "Just tryin' to talk to you," he said innocently.
"Fuck off, Jason, I have places to be," he grumbled.
"Suckin' up to the kiantri?" the brunette elbowed him.
He took a long, deep breath. "I am not 'sucking up'," he said firmly. "I'm doing my job. That he assigned me to do. Why don't you do yours and go guard the fucking outside?" he bit.
Jason snorted, "This isn't your job," he stressed. "It's a freak hobby."
The other two laughed behind him, elbowing each other. "You tell 'im, Jas," one commented.
Kyle rolled his eyes dramatically. Fos'se and Bil'taon were just his favorites. He wondered each time he interacted with them if they were ever not around each other. Or fucking Jaso'nali for that matter. He wouldn't have been surprised if they'd all popped from the same womb unbeknownst to anyone, including their own damn mothers. Kyle shifted his bag on his shoulder and crossed his arms. "Don't you have something better to do than waste my time?" he asked dryly. "I have things to do, people to go see. You know. What people who aren't repulsive to the rest of society do," he narrowed his eyes.
Jason narrowed his right back, "Awful lot of attitude for a wimpy little freak."
He scoffed, "Please. Just because you're so stupid your empty head doubles as a weapon, it doesn't mean I'm fucking wimpy." He smirked to himself self-righteously, 'Besides. I bet Kenny would've had you shitting yourself and flying off in the other direction with your wings between your legs.'
"You have a problem, Kylenavie?" he taunted.
"Yeah, fucking you," he bit, raising his foot a swiftly kicking his groin and knocking him backwards, riding the momentum and turning on his heel, not paying his victim a second glance as he casually continued on his way. He could feel people staring at him and shaking their heads, Jason and his little groupies off in the background yelling at him, but he had much more important matters to attend to.
He hummed, veering off the main path lined with barky homes and towards a large, tinted glass building up atop the hill. He couldn't help but find himself staring up at it as he always did, a true marvel to say the least. From what he'd been told, it'd taken nearly two lifetimes long ago for it to be completed, each piece of glass melted down and colored to blend into a glimmering field of wildflowers. At night, it had become a solace for even Kyle as he wandered through hazy dreams of what lied beyond the mountains, seeing it through his window glowing in the distance as a constant beacon of what his people stood for. It was one of the few things that Kyle was comfortable with, despite it being the entire foundation for where he stood among society.
Maybe it was just how he was raised, brought up to believe in its healing prowess. Then again, he was raised to believe many things. He wasn't particularly settled within most of the mindset he'd been brought up on.
He walked up to a large glass door, quietly pushing open the barrier and greeted with the smell of burning lavender wafting pleasantly in the air. Kyle sighed in the aroma, walking into the room bereft of the sounds of the outside, glancing down the main hall of worship and making his way down the long, linen walkway. His eyes slid up to the upper rafters, at eight intricately designed statues staring at him patiently.
Kyle gulped, hanging his head down, fingers linking together in a criss-cross pattern with his palms facing towards his deities as a soft murmur left his lips; "Tav'nokana, anea li mal paelor…" his sight flickered back up, breath shaking as he let himself linger on the one statue situated on a platform all Her own above the remaining seven. Carved from trees long ago considered sacred, She stood above her children with kind eyes and a tattered cloak trailing behind Her that faded off into oblivion.
"She would not have appreciated what you just did to Jaso'nali," a soft voice broke his staring. He glanced over to see a familiar face watching him expectantly, a tall figure adorned in a silken tawny robe. A withering form did nothing to take from his power over the room, to let even one be fooled for the slightest of moments that he was nothing more than an old man taking space. Even though Kyle had known him his entire life, the kiantri still intimidated him despite his kind, gentle nature for all his followers, knowing well enough that his magic and his authority was far beyond anything that Kyle could ever hold in his hands.
Kyle blushed as the kiantri continued staring at him waiting for a response, pivoting on his foot and hanging his head. "Sorry, Mal'tene," he mumbled. He looked back up, seeing the old man folding in his finger and turning to begin walking away. The redhead took a deep breath, stepping off behind him, sure to keep his respectable distance and his head hanging down, fingers remaining linked amongst one another. He peeked over to see other members of the kana'fale watching him for a moment before returning to their own prayers and his face color deepened. Seemed everyone knew who he was anymore. Wasn't a hard task with such a sparse village and a close-knit tribe, but being a focal point of gossip was never exactly one of Kyle's favorite things to be.
He followed the kiantri down the hallway to a far-side room, waiting outside the frame until the old man was seated before allowing himself to cross the threshold and close the darkly tinted barrier behind him. He glanced at the man nervously, the kiantri shaking his head at him. "Tetima is far too strong in you," he commented. Kyle cringed, rubbing his arm sheepishly.
"He called me a freak, Mal'tene."
"And you wanted to make him respect you through violence?" he quirked his brow.
Kyle's shoulders sank, "No… I-I just wanted to get here so I could get home. My mother called for me."
He nodded slowly, tapping his fingers against one another and leaning back a bit on his carved wooden chair. "Kylenove'ia," he said quietly, tired grey eyes scanning over him and his guilty posture. "You know so much better than that. You're a man of the paper. Not one of war."
The redhead twisted his lips, "Mal'tene, I wasn't trying to start anything," he insisted. "He pulls that all the time."
"Then you should be used to it," he batted off. "What have I told you to do with him?"
"Send him here," he grumbled. "I wasn't thinking of that… I'm sorry."
The kiantri sighed and shook his head, standing up and watching Kyle automatically duck his head. He walked up to the redhead and tipped his chin up, staring at him firmly. "You have what he does not," he reminded him. "Jaso'nali can destroy with his strength, not with his words. That is how you win battles. Do you understand?"
Kyle nodded softly, "I'm sorry," he repeated in a meek tone.
The man's stern face broke for a small smirk. "Far too much Tetima in you," he repeated in a teasing tone. "Perhaps one day you will harbor Her for the purpose of good." Kyle snorted softly and he patted his head. "Now, did you find anything today?" he asked kindly. Kyle nodded, handing him his bag of glass. The leader peered inside and cocked his head at the small stash. "Less than usual," he commented.
The redhead shrugged, fighting back a blush, "Couldn't find much. I tried for a good while but I must've cleaned out the one portion I was scavenging in… I'll spread out the search tomorrow," he half-heartedly promised.
"Hm," he mused with a nod. "Well… please. Be careful," he cautioned. "You are breaking farther and farther from the treagi's line of sight. I do not like the idea of you being out there on your own so far from them."
'Well that's the damn plan,' he thought tiredly. "Don't worry," he said lightly. "Stante'ri is already making me take my bow," he pointed to it situated on his back. "And my aim with that is better than any of their weapons."
The kiantri smirked, "Brashness will only take one so far in a battle, young lenove. Please, do remember to stay alert, and…?" he looked at him expectantly.
"Keep myself out of danger and come back home if trouble arises," he recited dutifully. "I know, Mal'tene."
He chuckled, patting his head again, "Behave," he advised. "Your mother is already fearful enough for you. Please don't continue to give her reason to seek my guidance on the matter."
Kyle laughed awkwardly, staunchly ignoring a particular blonde head popping into mind. "I'll try," he lied. "May I go to her now?"
The old man nodded, placing a kind hand on his shoulder, "Tav'nokana kaepo ilnoe na mani."
The redhead smiled a bit guiltily, bowing his head down, "Mani'li." The kianti stepped back from him and Kyle turned on his heel, leaving his bag with the man until morning, the same routine as they'd held for the last three seasons. Kyle stepped out of the kiantri's room, closing the door behind him and heaving a deep, cleansing breath as he made way back towards the prayer hall. He was risking himself on far too many levels at once at this point, unable to believe that a being with such wisdom hadn't caught on to his misdeeds as of yet. Then again, Kyle had himself wrapped so deeply into each of his fibs that even he had to stop to remind himself of his true intentions upon breeching the burrow into the open sky.
He stopped, fingers linking and palms twisting for another short prayer to Tav'nokana. His gaze fell down to the wayside as he finished, to the last statue on the far right. A sturdy woman with a cocky smile, left hand extended gracefully towards the hall lightly cradling a branch of firethorn. The sculptor had certainly done his job well, Tetima's renowned bruises and scrapes emblazoned within the wooden curves of Her exposed arms, expression so sure of itself that Kyle could swear now and then that he could see the gleam of Her eyes. "Tetima… onal'ae," he pleaded under his breath, eyes flickering to those still lingering in the hall for an eavesdropper. He kept his sight on Her for a few steps backwards before forcing himself to turn and head through the room towards the glowing lights awaiting him on the other side of the lengthy aisle.
He nearly burst from the temple back into the musty air, a shaking breath escaping him and a long shudder racking down his back and throughout his wings. He could almost feel seven of the eight statues watching after him in disappointment, his fists tightening as he jumped up and took flight to separate himself from their judgment. Glancing down at the crowd below in the main stretch of the village, he searched briskly for his troublemakers, finding no sign and sighing in relief. Good. Last thing he needed was for them to get him into trouble again. Damn the kiantri's clear walls and his uncanny ability to know everything that went on within his view.
Kyle shook his head, quickly picking up speed, dodging around other fliers as he made his way towards the outskirts of paved rock into lush grass sprawling from cracks of the earth. But Kyle knew, this was all just too false. No matter how much plant life the kiantri's powerful magics provided them, regardless of how much his blessed shards of glass beamed light onto the people, it wasn't the real thing. And Kyle was so deeply in love with the concept of the real thing that coming back home was nothing but a disappointing haze. To any outsider or the multitude of faterian dwelling within the patch of land declared for his tribe, it would be a marvel. Something that only an artist could conjure up, a seemingly endless pallet of rainbow reflections shimmering onto onlookers.
But as for Kyle, he knew better. His world was a monochromatic hue, the glares of broken jars paling in comparison to the feeling of sunlight in one's eye. The heavy smell of rock and dirt absolutely nothing against the muggy aroma of a field after a heavy rainstorm. His people only knew the scents of flowers that he or another wanderer brought to them. They had never experienced the ripe hit of a full-blown evergreen, the spice of freshly tilled human soil as they began their planting seasons. After all, what good were an endless variety of fruits and vegetables grown with calloused hands and tender hearts when natural berries and edible leaves and dandelion stems were 'good enough'?
Kyle grunted, speeding through the seemingly endless spawn of nearly identical trees, full of nearly identical families all just so happy being locked in their cave. He frowned. No, it wasn't a cave. Caves had an easy way into the sunlight. This hole of theirs was a trap. It was made to keep them in, and the kiantri, Tav'nokana bless him, had done all he could to keep their spirits high as did the other kiantri who came before him. For the most part, he'd succeeded. But, Kyle supposed, there was always going to be one bad apple in the bunch. He sighed tiredly, coming upon a large elm and swooping down to land back on his feet in front of the massive trunk. Why he had to be that bad seed, he'd probably never know. Until today, it had seemed to be more trouble than it was worth.
But today, Kenny turned that on its head entirely.
He smiled fondly, posture loosening with the recollection. There were too many times he'd let everything pile on top of him and bring him down. Today should not be one of those days, not with his tremendous achievement.
He placed his hand against the front of the trunk, glancing at his family's names carved into the bark before slipping within the hollowed wood. He came right into the smell of deer roasting over a low-flame, glancing over at his father sitting at the table quietly reading a worn book. The man glanced up, smiling, "Hey there, Kyle."
"Hey," he nodded. "Gonna put my stuff away."
"All right, hurry up," he advised him. "Your mother isn't happy you're so late. Grab your brother on your way down."
The redhead winced. Yeah he figured that his little detour with Jason and his impromptu lecture didn't do him any favors by means of a timely arrival. He silently nodded once more, walking to the middle of their sitting room and jumping up towards a hole carved above him, wings flapping quietly and trying to bring his bag and weapon in closer to keep from smacking against the entryways. He passed the first floor, designated Ike's and glancing at the closed off wall as he flew by to his own level. He sighed, landing with soft feet upon the sanded panel and walking to his wall, seeping through it with a tired groan.
He glanced around at his bed freshly made and rolled his eyes. Obviously the handiwork of his mother. Gently, he slid his bag off his shoulder and snagged his bow and quiver, tossing them aimlessly towards a pile of books stacked taller than himself and towering along his wall. He hated carrying the weapons around, found them far too clunky for the stealthy movements he needed. But a few days of incessant begging from his best friend had led to a begrudging acceptance, less Stan ask for a special duty within the treagi to become his fucking bodyguard.
Snatching up his bag, he carried it over to his carved out closet, tonguing over his lips as he slid into the cavern. He hummed, nails tracing along the wood until catching on two divots, hooking his fingers down and grunting with effort to rip open a door that'd taken him nearly four months to carve with rock and a lot of magic to hollow out the thick inner walls. Kyle could say the one benefit to living in the mountain was there was no chance of a storm taking out the portion of the house that he'd weakened significantly. But he also knew that regardless of his craftsmanship, their homes were sturdy as they came, he was beyond safe to mess around with the architecture. He slipped himself into the narrow space as he got the door open, raising a hand and letting it catch its glowing shade and gripping one of the few books he'd found out of its hold. He held his hand up, narrowing his eyes in the darkness.
"'To Sail with Them'," he read aloud, cocking his head and turning the cover a bit. "Huh." His eyes flickered in realization. No time for dawdling, had to hurry before his mother came storming into his room and found his little treasure trove. He carefully grabbed the few spoils of the day, stacking them atop a lopsidedly carved shelf among other swiped tomes, slipping loose papers into various books and clicking his tongue hurriedly as he worked. The largest book, one from his own people, stayed within the bag as he swiftly slipped out of his secret room and back among his hanging tunics. He slid the door firmly closed, getting back into the main portion of his room and tossing his bag onto the bed. Glancing back to confirm the security of his library, he nodded, walking up to his front wall and seeping through, moving to hop down from his floor and land onto his brother's with a quiet thud.
Kyle perked his ears as he walked towards the wall, rapping on it quickly with the back of his hand. "Ike?" he called, hearing nothing and frowning. "Ike, dinner!" he tried again. He backed up a bit and scowled. "IKERRIAN GET YOUR FUCKING ASS OUT HERE!" he snapped.
"FUCKING HOLD ON, KYLE!" Came an equal-volume level of impatience.
Green eyes rolled dramatically, "Come on or Ma will skin us both!" He leaned his ear towards the wall, hearing a good deal of shuffling about and Ike cursing his older brother out. Kyle cocked his brow, stepping back as he heard Ike approaching the wall and crossing his arms as a baby blue glow began to emit from a small portion of the wall, Ike sinking out and glaring at the redhead.
"Ever heard of something called patience?" he snapped.
"Ever heard of saving your jerking off for when it's not dinner time?" he shot back flatly. He hissed and covered his arm as Ike punched him roughly and rolled his eyes.
"I wasn't fucking 'jerking off'," he mocked. "Filmore was over and left through the damn window."
"Still counts as jerkin' even if you're doin' it to each other," he taunted, stopping him from punching him again and smirking at the pure distaste twisting on his face. He glanced at a new color in his peripheral as Ike's wings snapped, pulling his arm and twisting him a bit. A bright blue smelling subtly of tweedia petals was leaking from the appendages. "Dude. What the fuck did you do?" he blinked before Ike shook him off.
Ike brushed bushy black hair out of his eyes, glaring at his brother. "Filmore found some flowers on the hunt and brought 'em back to dye my wings."
Kyle sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You idiot. You don't need yours to be colored!"
"Well neither does the fuckin' baker's kid but he's got himself bright red wings," he frowned. "And it ain't permanent like yours."
The elder groaned, "It's not. It's just long-lasting magic, it'll be gone by next season and I'll have to change them for the fall. Did you tell Ma you were doin' this?"
"No, but it's just dye," he insisted. "It'll be gone in a few weeks. Tops."
Kyle shook his head and chuckled. "And I thought I was the one in for a lecture. Good luck with that logic, Man," he waved him off, turning and heading towards the hole in the floor yet again and hopping down, moving out of the way for Ike to follow behind and the both of them turning to see their father shaking his head at them. They glanced at each other in worry. That was never a good sign. The brothers looked back up as their mother bustled back into the room with a plate of meat and laying it on the set table, not looking at the both of them.
"How kind of you to join us, Kylenove'ia," she drawled, sitting in her seat next to their father.
His eyes drooped tiredly, "Ma, my meeting with the kiantri ran late I'm sorry. I can't exactly tell him to speed it up." He and Ike walked to their own chairs pushing each other subtly. Kyle took his seat opposite his father at the expertly carved round table, scooting his large stump to bring him closer and glancing at his mother with a wince. "I swear, I'm really sorry," he insisted. He sighed tiredly at her keeping her ground, shaking his head. Seemed he was apologizing to everyone today. "Ike dyed his wings," he said casually, smirking as her head snapped to her youngest child. No doubt the easiest way to get on her good side was to turn the blame. A dirty trick, but one both of the brothers had mastered for years.
"WHAT WHAT WHAT?!" she shrieked, the young noirette flinching.
"Mom, it's just dye. It'll be gone soon," he insisted. "I'm expressing myself," he said, kicking Kyle's leg under the table, the redhead gasping in pain and snarling at him.
She glared at him furiously, green eyes to match Kyle's own beaming with the promise of punishment. "You should be expressing yourself by working, young man!" she lectured, stabbing at a large slab of venison with a bone fork and plopping it onto their father's plate, beginning to dish out pieces for the boys as well. Kyle watched his own cut fall onto the wooden dish and rolled his eyes. He was so fucking sick of deer meat and berries every damn night.
"Kyle's not working," he drawled.
He glared at him sharply, "How do you know what I do? You don't know one ounce of my duties so don't even try that shit-"
"Kyle, language," Gerald interjected nonchalantly, taking a bite of his dinner and settling in for the all-too-common three-way argument they were edging towards.
"Your brother is working for the kiantri," Sheila reminded Ike firmly, taking a long sip of tea. "And the kiantri wouldn't have him doing something that doesn't benefit us all."
Kyle turned to his fuming brother smugly, popping a blueberry between his lips. "Yeah, Ike. My work is beneficial. And just what have you been doing with your little tinkering?"
Ike looked between the three of them, an angry breath seeping out of his nostrils. "I'm working on a way to filter our fucking water easier instead of it taking us four days to get it clean," he snapped.
Kyle blinked, wincing guiltily. "Oh. Okay, that is important," he agreed awkwardly. Truth be told, he never pried too much into Ike's work as one of the village inventors, far too preoccupied with his own studies.
Ike continued his death glare. "And just what have you been doing, oh great knowledgeable savior?" he hissed.
"Ikerrian," their mother warned, turning to her eldest son and raising her brow. "Yes, what have you been doing, Kyle? You've been so quiet about your research."
He cleared his throat, shrugging dismissively. "Same as usual, get nimikal'e for the kiantri, look at plants and write about 'em. Ya know… what I've been doing for months."
Ike hummed amusedly, taking a bite of venison. "And… just how are the aikopia plants, Ky?" he asked casually, the redhead freezing and glaring at him. Always turning it back to the humans on him whenever things were looking bad for him, Ike had a predictable pattern that Kyle always knew was coming, but infuriated him no less.
"Again?" Gerald sighed, rubbing his temple tiredly and dropping his fork. "Kyle, come on, please," he begged.
"I don't want you going up out of the burrow anymore!" Sheila jumped on the opportunity immediately, same as she always did. "It's so dangerous up there! Between those awful aikopia and the aidarkeri, you have no reason to be outside!"
He rolled his eyes, "Can't gather nimikal'e if I'm not out there," he said coolly. "I know what I'm doing. Neither are a threat to me."
Ike snorted, "Oh please. Maybe you can outrun an aikopia, I'll give you that. But the aidarkeri? They get to you and that's it, Man. They'll find your bones and a note that says 'well his family shoulda warned him'."
Sheila's face dropped further in horror at the prospect as Kyle sighed and shook his head at the dramatics, continuing to gnaw through his berries and just waiting for her desperate pleas of reconsideration. "Kyle," she started worriedly. "Ike is right. You shouldn't be out there, not so close to them at least."
"Or at least stay near the treagi," Gerald continued. "They're there to protect us, utilize your advantages, Son."
"I don't need protection," he said calmly. "I can outfly aikopia or aidarkeri. Either one of 'em. And the treagi barely move from their one spot of training grounds, I need to venture further to find the information I need."
Sheila scoffed, "Or more of your aikopia trash." Kyle grabbed his water jar for a distraction, tapping his finger against it quietly. Their first discovery of his little obsession years before hadn't gone over so well, finding his stash one day while he was away and confronting him. Forcing him to sneak it all back outside so no one would know just what it was he was getting himself into and risk trouble or Gerald's job in the tribe council. He just thanked the stars that they hadn't found his collection of their books, and that the kiantri had taught him long ago how to hollow out plant life, able to store his treasures out of sight from any nosey wanderers. But that in of itself wasn't enough to stop the lectures, the constant concern over his safety at the hands of the 'monsters' that lived above ground.
Kyle couldn't help a small smirk on the corner of his lips as he took a long gulp of water. He wondered how Kenny would think of this conversation, if he'd be cracking up at their wild assumptions or quietly enduring their unfounded racial bias. After all, he was the only one of his family, of his tribe, maybe even of all faterianea of this lifetime to make contact with a human. He was the leading authority thus far, and he couldn't help the smugness settling warmly in his chest from the fact. He glanced up, seeing the three of them waiting expectantly and shrugging. "Were it not for their trash, we wouldn't have our nimikal'e," he reminded them. "So why don't we just sit here and be thankful for the aikopia being so very wasteful?"
"And dangerous," Ike sang.
"Not any more dangerous than the treagi," he parried. "In fact, less so. They aren't trained to kill, they're just living their lives and dropping trash in the woods. They're a blessing for us, whether you all choose to believe it or not."
Gerald shook his head solemnly, "Kyle. We've told you, you're playing it far too fast and loose with them. What if one finds you? What if they kill you? How would we know?"
The both of them ignored Sheila's dramatic sound of dismay, the redhead glancing at the three of them again and frowning. "All right. Let's get one thing super clear:" he started lowly. "Which one of us is the scholar here? Raise your wing!" he said, jerking out one of his appendages and bobbing it around wildly before letting it fold back alongside the others behind him. "Exactly. I'm the one with the books. I'm the one with the field experience. I'm the one that the kiantri was perfectly fine with letting go to find his materials outside. You don't insult the treagi. You don't insult the hunters or the foragers. So why are you lecturing me? I know more about the damn aikopia than all of them combined so please, just back off and let me do. My. Job," he finished firmly, violently gnashing his teeth into another berry as he eyed them all for a retort.
Sheila sighed in defeat, dropping her head into her hands and shaking it slowly. "Why couldn't you have been fated as a carpenter?" she whimpered.
"Because I'm not very good at lifting heavy things," he rolled his eyes. "It's not my fault. The kiantri told me what I am, so I'm just doing what he says."
"Your job is to benefit us," Gerald reminded him. "Not just collect nimikal'e. You aren't supposed to help by scavenging, Kyle."
He scoffed, "I'm a great multi-tasker. I can look for my things and take the notes on plants that Tweek and Becca need. I figured you two would be happy that I work so closely with the kiantri."
"We are," he stressed. "Kyle, there's no higher honor than working directly for him, you know that I know that better than anyone," he gestured to himself. "But you're just…"
"His bitch," Ike said blandly, getting a glare from his parents before they looked back at Kyle tiredly.
Gerald sighed, "Well… in a way, yes," he admitted. "That is not your first job. Your people are your first job. Do you understand?"
Kyle shook his head angrily, pushing away from the table and getting to his feet. "I'll decide what methods are best for my field, thanks, Dad," he muttered, turning and ignoring his mother's pleas to come back and his father telling her to just let him be. He flew back up through the floors to his wall and pushed his way into his room, sinking exhaustedly. He was so tired of the same fucking argument, always being told the 'best' way for his talents to be utilized.
All they wanted him for was for plant studies. To confine him in the library. They wanted him to do nothing but take notes and be a studious little tool while everyone else got to move in their profession. Kyle was no fool, knowing that the kiantri only allowed him his collecting job because of how restless he was, because he kept sneaking out of the burrow and he figured he may as well make it worth his time. But it was a double-edged sword. Sure, he had a reason to leave now, but it took up precious time he could be dedicating towards learning of the aikopia, and focusing on his other little secret research.
He sighed, glancing out his window towards the kana'fale in the distance and shaking his head. He stepped back to his closet and forced open his library door, reaching in blindly and mentally counting until landing on the third book closest to him, pulling out his new tale of sailing. He grinned fondly, cocking his head and walking to his bed, moving his bag to plop down on the feather-stuffed mattress and stroking his fingers over the leather cover. He hummed, wondering just what it was that sailing was and shrugging to himself, cracking open the dirtied book. Well, either settling down and just letting himself figure it out through reading could solve it…
He smiled. Or tomorrow, Kenny could.
