A New Day

Gonyaul opened his eyes slowly and could see diffused ambient light coming through the woven threads of his Upparia, his ceremonial eye wrap. He was so tired last night he must have passed out while still meditating. He gently reached up and felt the texture of the wrapping. His fingers traced over the unique braille like surface patterns intricately designed into the item. Those raised patterns translated to the following meaning:

See all that is true, noble, right, pure, lovely, admirable, excellent or praiseworthy.

It was made from the interior lining of the Abiu tree bark in the Kru’ll jungle. They would collect this bark, soak it into pulp, pound it into thin thread-like layers, and then overlap the layers to form a final flexible sheet. He had made it himself, as was a customary part of training for everyone growing up in his tribe.

He lay there, unmoving, and peaceful. The room had been warmer than he was used to at this time of year. Too warm in fact to still be wearing his cloak over his clothes. Last night it helped with the lingering chill he experienced not having it on for the later duration of their trip back. But this morning, he felt a little lethargic with the additional warmth and a night of deep rest.

Gonyaul took his time in rising. He removed his Upparia and folded it in a meaningful and intricate way before putting it into a pocket. He also removed his cloak and let it hang over the top of a simple stool that was furnished in the room. He next proceeded to make up the bed he slept in. Once made, the bed looked hard. Compared to the floor of his shelter in the farm, however, it was a luxurious treat to lay on in his opinion.

He was satisfied that he was going to leave the room in a better state then whence he found it. That was a very Vauxian concept that he remembers hearing so much growing up that he smirked thinking it was woven into his thinking like how the Upparia was made. He let the words of a mentor repeat in his memory, ~Atana ag eros o atekustim ikot iroy om etebus o ukoy etihs iasaduk~. It translated roughly to “Leave everything better than when you found it” in the common tongue.

There was a very small window letting in softer eastern light. He could tell by its angle of entry that he had uncharacteristically overslept. This meant that the raid that he overheard mentioned late last night, right after the Arbiter reported on their evening, was most likely in progress or concluded. He hoped it went well for all innocent and just parties.

Gonyaul could feel hunger gripping at his belly. He had not eaten anything since lunch from yesterday. Yet, he wanted to rejoice that it was a new day and that he was still alive to enjoy the gifts that each moment of opportunity allotted him. He was so grateful, because it was unearned and mattered. He moved away from the bed and very slowly performed a dance-like Vauxian martial arts pattern of movements meant to adore the gift of a new day. All Vauxian fighting movement were laced with meaning deeper than just physical motion. And it made him feel as if he was talking to friends back home to use the full body, and potentially combative, sign language.

Talking out loud significantly more often was something he had to get used to outside his people. The Vaux actually primarily communicated with sign language and reserved speech as a secondary means of communication, ceremonial, or for the most intimate of occasions. It was a huge learning curve traveling those several years on the continent of Helias that he needed, and was expected, to speak practically all the time if he wanted to communicate with others. By the time he arrived in Arcadia he was used to it. But he did feel his earlier way of thinking hindered the speed at which he learned the common tongue. Now, he was deciding to try harder to push that little extra mile to practice more and try and become fluent. Who knows, with two languages under his belt, it may not be so hard to pick up a third or more from the natives of this new continent. Perhaps this could be an enjoyable side hobby if given the opportunity.

His stomach growled at him again and this time he did not want to keep ignoring it for more important matters. He frowned as he realized he had absolutely no money on his person at the moment. It was all back in the farm.

Now that his assassin had been identified and mortally concluded, did this mean he was done being tethered to all this drama? Was he going to be sent home, or would he just be expected to leave for home, upon exiting the room. He stalled thinking about this. He was still concerned to go home with the cult in full bloom. He was a civilian, with the current role of farmer. He had a different function expected of him in Ostiarium than these other individuals he had most recently met.

He thought on this briefly as well. That he probably would not be seeing most, if any, of them again. Perhaps save for the occasional seeing them at a distance whenever he did come into town? He would be sure to wave and would welcome the chance to see any of them again. Even the Arbiter and Hunter? A small voice from deep in his thoughts murmured. He paused and pondered that question. He concluded that it wouldn’t be too disagreeable. In fact, seeing the Arbiter again could be tolerable.

Gonyaul retrieved his cloak from the stool and for now just folded it over his right arm. He reached out, grabbed the door knob, and exited the room. He looked left and right and realized he didn’t know really where he was in relationship to the layout of this place. He chose a direction and went with it. If he found someone else he would make sure to ask for the exit.