ryann comes in jars (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
cornichaun) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
bakerstreet2016-02-29 10:45 pm
cornichaun) wrote in bakerstreet2016-02-29 10:45 pm
The Desert Caravan Meme
The sky is unimaginably large. Infinity as a pale, blinding blue, never a cloud. Your eyes always sting from the sand and from the bright, painful light.
This is the desert. It is the desert that lives in poetry: the shifting, formless sea of white and gold and red, in slow, sinking dune-waves. This is the desert of scorched cliffs and ancient stone; it is the desert of vast, eternal wind, bringing the bite of grit to bare skin. Sun’s heat untempered by mercy and parched land flickering with false hope of oasis.
This is the desert of legend: the desert that hides prophets tucked in endless emptiness, where djinnis whisper on the winds and magic wells from the sands themselves. This is the land that can trap you and drain you, of memory, of past, of weakness; the land that secrets treasure away in caves and holds salvation in hidden water. This is the land that bakes you and cures you, lets the soft clay of your soul shape into something new.
The desert is a place forever between, broken with paths, sliced and scarred for the sake of trade. But the desert is a place itself, too, home for the nomads, the caravanserai, the dotted strips of live eked out of the dry. Home to the snakes and the birds and the twisted, thorny scrub, the camels and the horses.
It will seduce you with the rapture of quiet, the beauty of an emptiness that is never truly empty. But it will deceive you, too: a mountain days away that seems close enough to touch; a camp close enough to hear, but hidden in a fold of the dunes. If you lose your way, you could die of thirst an arms length from salvation. Dunes shift; paths bend. If you do not know the desert, it will kill you.
Who are you?
A traveler, trusting in the grace of a guide to bring your caravan safe to the other side;
A guide, walking by stars and distant hills through the land you know by heart;
One belonging to a caravanserai, an enclave of the desert, by precious water, gleaning a living from the harsh land and the travelers passing through;
A bandit, preying on the slow, plodding merchants;
A nomad, with the desert in your blood, watching the intruders pass through;
A hermit, solitary and empty, grown accustomed to the silence;
Or a creature of magic: a djinni, a sorcerer, a witch, a prophet?
What has happened?
An ordinary, exhausting day of travel, your mouth dry as dust?
Have you lost your way, straying, along and baking in the sun —
A raid by bandits, to take money, goods — people?
War, over territory? Over water?
Strangers arriving in the caravanserai?
Happening upon a celebration, of life, water, harvest?
A rainstorm, for the first time in years? A sandstorm, deadly, and far more common?
Or something else?
lmfksgj oh man prepare for all the amazement :D
"I'll need to call you something, though," she reasoned, somewhat good-naturedly when he wrote the rest of his message, encouraging her to open his gift now that they were indoors. "Or perhaps I'll make something up." His smile was convincing though, as much as it was distracting, and she nodded and did as he asked.
She removed the little box he'd given her in Niima from the knapsack she'd left in the corner, glancing at him with an anticipatory look before she opened it. Inside were a glistening bunch of the most beautiful things she'd ever seen; they were plant foods, as were the others he'd shown her, but they were small oval ones, the most vibrant color of red she'd ever seen anywhere on Jakku, speckled with tiny seeds and crowned with green stems.
They filled the room with a sweet aroma when she'd opened the box, and her lips gaped as she lifted her eyes to his once more, even as her mouth watered at the scent. "These...these are to eat?" They looked too beautiful to eat, if she'd had to be honest.
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Strawberries were one of his favorite crops. And not every plant managed to make it through. This was the best of his batch for the year, the most beautiful, the most perfect. The less-ripe ones, the ones that weren't as beautiful, he'd turned into a mash kept safe in a jar, for the coming year. It was just as good as what Rey had in her hands, but not as beautiful.
He sat up a little, then reached out and took one of the berries. He tilted his hands to show Rey how to remove the stem, then offered her the berry itself.
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Hesitantly she put her teeth around the tip, and took a bite. The flavor bowled her over, sweet and tart in turns; Rey closed her eyes to savor it, nearly swaying on her feet.
"...Oh." The groan that came out of her mouth most likely sounded indecent to anyone else's ears. She opened her eyes and finished the berry in three huge bites, licking the residual juice from her fingers with relish before glancing over at him sheepishly again.
"It's wonderful." Her voice was soft with reverence, before she held the box out to him. "Here, have one. I don't want to eat them all, by myself." It's not every day she's had someone to share in such an experience with.
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He was tired, and hungry, but the potatoes should have been done soon enough - he could eat and then rest.
After a minute, he opened his eyes to look at Rey. She was so young, vibrant... Like a beam of the sunlight her name seemed to be derived from - or at least mimic. He might not have been a creature of the sun like she was - and her tan attested to that - but he did rely on the sun. It fed his plants, grew them, helped him to live where few others could.
He closed his eyes again, slate in his lap still, and found himself dozing easily. For once, the presence of another person wasn't keeping him awake - or maybe he was just too exhausted.
sorry for the delay! rl has been a bit crazy.
Between that moment and the next, when she turned back to glance at her guest again, his eyes were closed and he was leaning against the bulkhead, dozing, breathing slowly and steadily. The food was done, but there was no sense in waking him if he needed rest so badly; she reserved a substantial portion for him and tucked into her own food when it had cooled sufficiently, watching him curiously as she ate.
There were so many questions she had for him — if he'd remembered his name, how long he'd lived in caves, the context of how he'd gotten the scars — but at the same time none of it was urgent enough to disturb him over it. Without having him answer anything she instinctively knew that he was alone, as she was; that he was hesitant to trust others, as she was. She wondered if he had as much trouble sleeping, this instance having been an exception, as she did.
Having finished her food, she retrieved one of the blankets from her sleeping bunk and placed it gently around his shoulders and over his lap. It wasn't likely that he'd spend the entire night sitting upright — at least she hoped he wouldn't, for his sake — but if he did, at least the blanket would help somewhat against the chill of the desert seeping in. In lieu of tinkering around on one of her various mechanical projects lying around, Rey chose instead to curl into her bunk where she could still watch him, pillowing her head on her arms. Within moments she was tired enough herself that her eyes drooped.
No worries, I know how it goes!
He pushed the blanket off of himself and went to the pot that the potatoes and carrots had been cooking in. They were starting to go cold, but he piled them onto the plate near the pot, gobbling them down hungrily. They were plain, without spices or seasoning, but he was hungry enough not to care.
He glanced at Rey - asleep on her little bunk - then slipped out the hatch. Carefully, he made his way out into the moonlight. It was chilly, but no more so than his cave. The air was still, not even a breeze plucking at him.
He crawled up the sand dune that Rey's home was half buried in and settled on the ridge, legs folded under him. The moons were huge and both nearly fully - they, and one other factor, influenced the rains, though he rarely saw them. Only now, when he was on the surface to wait out the storm, and...
He had been a child when he'd ended up here, on Jakku, He hadn't been born here, he knew that. Five or six, maybe, near the age Rey had been when she was left. He didn't remember much. It had been a lot more years for him than it had been for Rey, and whoever had left him here on this planet was completely gone from his memory, if they had ever even existed.
His first clear memories were of the cave, dirt between his fingers, the careful distribution of water over the crops, nurturing seedlings even as little more than a stripling himself. There had been another, then, the non-human person who had been his parent. The one who had taught him their language, and Common, how to read and write, how to barter - most importantly, how to raise the plants... and one other thing.
All at once, he was scrambling back down into the shelter. He picked up his slate and wiped it clean, then wrote out three large letters.
He paused, then. Rey was asleep. It seemed rude to wake her. So instead, he carefully put the slate down in the nestle of her arms, so when she woke she would be able to see what he'd written.
That done, he picked up the blanket she'd tucked around him and felt his own little niche to curl up in, and fell asleep smiling.
<3 hopefully my tagging speed will get better soon!
But she was surprised to see something tucked into her arms. His writing slate, nestled under her forearm as though he'd placed it there, with three letters written on it in Common — B E N. Ben. His name; he'd remembered it.
A grin spread gently across her features at the realization. He must have dreamt, perhaps, or simply woken up during the night and recalled it, and felt the need to share it with her. She glanced over at his sleeping form again before looking back at the writing tablet, tucking it under her arm as she carefully and quietly descended from her little sleeping bunk.
Tiptoeing around her small kitchen, she procured a cup of water from one of the sterile tanks she kept it in, and drank thoughtfully as she watched him. In repose he seemed more youthful, his dark hair framing his face, cheeks unlined and mouth soft with sleep. She could swear his lips were curved somewhat in a faint semblance of a smile.
"...Ben," she whispered to herself, trying the name aloud. It was a good name, one that sounded comfortable on her tongue as she spoke it.
maybe mine will too :P
He started awake, ready to be facing down a misplaced mirror - what else would cause light to shine into his shrouded little sleeping nook? - and found himself instead staring at the inside of the fighter. Across from him was the girl, Rey. He swallowed, startled. She had a cup in her hand and was watching him. The slate was next to her, and he could see the letters written on there from here.
Carefully, he sat up, glancing around nervously. He nodded to Rey once, then settled back, unsure. She had his slate, and while he had to pee, it wasn't urgent enough that he couldn't wait a bit longer.
no worries, no worries!
But the sun was already up for at least an hour, and soon she would need to head out for the day's scavenging. She had a small stashed supply of rations to last her — and a guest, fortunately — a few days during the rains, but she needed to procure more before the deluge hit. It was better to have extra than have not enough, she rationalized.
She glanced down again at the slate and then back at him once more, a faint lift to her lips. "Ben? Your name is Ben?" A genuine smile spread slowly. "I like that name. Do you want something to drink? I have water, but if you prefer tea I have dried leaves I've been saving for awhile."
She didn't have it often, but a guest was a sort of special occasion, she'd figured.
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He stood after a moment and stretched, then sighed, smiled a little and reached down to pick up his fabric wrappings - if he was going to drink water, he was definitely going to need to relieve himself first, and to go outside in the sun he needed to be covered otherwise he would go as red as the strawberries he'd given Rey. He paused to dig around in his pack. He produced a few more potatoes, a packet of spices, and a few other vegetables - peppers, an onion... He gestured to the food, pointed to himself, then at the little stove Rey had. He was going to make breakfast, as soon as he was back inside.
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As he got to his feet, lifting up the wrappings he'd discarded the night before, she realized he was going to head outside; before he did though he unearthed more food from his pack. Some of them were the same as what she'd seen and some were new, and she tilted her head curiously as he motioned to himself and then her little cooking stove. Did he want her to cook it?
First things first — she nodded her head at the wrappings he'd picked up in his hands, that he was presumably going to wrap his face and head in once more. Something inside her lamented at the notion of him covering his face again with the expressionless bandage wraps, even if it were only temporary. "...Where are you going?" she asked, like a nosy little busybody.
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He shuffled out the door then away from her little hut, scrambling awkwardly up a dune and over before he got himself out of his trousers to pee. As soon as he was done, he kicked sand over the spot then headed back to Rey's home. He paused, though, on the top of the sand dune and found his head turning - he looked towards the sun, already over the horizon. Rain would come with the dawn. They had two more days, after today.
Ben slipped back down the dune and inside, pulling the wrappings off from around his face. He settled down in front of the little stove, pulling his knife from his pocket. He sliced the peppers first, then re-settled some of the fabric around his face to cut the onion and started those on the heat, before adding the potatoes. As soon as it was all nicely soft, he added a protein packet - so important, since there was little he could grow for some things - and stirred.
He looked over at Rey with a smile then dished out the food, settling down to start eating.
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She sipped her water thoughtfully and looked at the food he'd unearthed from his pack, particularly the little packet of spices; such a thing had hardly been available to scavengers, who bartered their goods for measly freeze-dried portions of rations, but she had seen it traded in Niima and she wondered how it tasted. She would find out soon enough — within a few moments Ben was back, unwinding the wraps covering his face once more, and Rey felt the tension ease from her shoulders in response to the sight of it.
He busied himself with food preparation, bustling about the small cooking area and chopping, heating and stirring; already the scent of the fresh food was beginning to waft throughout her small dwelling, and Rey inhaled vigorously. Rations smelled nothing like this when hydrated and heated; this was fragrant, aromatic, and she felt herself salivating already.
When it was done he dished out a generous portion for her onto her plate, and they both dove into the food. It was bursting with flavor and texture, and she wolfed it down so quickly her eyes teared up from the residual heat of the stove. Rey caught him glancing over at her as she ate, and after a long few seconds — spent watching the fascinating way his mouth, lips, tongue and teeth moved with the process of eating — she nodded gratefully at him, speaking over a mouth stuffed with onions and peppers and spiced potatoes. "...'S delifshus," she mumbled inelegantly, careful not to let any food slip out of her mouth as she grinned at him. Her manners left something to be desired, certainly, but her gratitude was heartfelt.
She licked her plate spotlessly clean — something done this time out of appreciation for the food and not residual hunger — and rose to her feet, gathering her supplies. "I'll need to head out soon to forage for the day. I have to get an early start, to ensure I can get it back to Niima before dusk." She cocked her head as she assembled her gear, wrapping her head in a headscarf somewhat similar to his. "...You're welcome to stay here, sleep a bit more, or just explore nearby. Or, you can come along with me, if you like."
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She watched then as he wrote out a message to her; he winced as he did, most likely because of his stiff fingers, and she felt a momentary surge of compassion. Whomever had scarred him so badly had done quite a thorough job of it, on the one hand at least.
His message gave her pause before she nodded. Scavenging through old Imperial star destroyers wasn't for everyone. Rey slung a pack over her shoulder, giving him a last nod as he made ready to leave. "I can take you to the southern gate of the outpost on my speeder if you like, before I head off to start my work for the day. I'm going out that way, anyway."
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Still, despite the fact that she'd been unused to physical closeness for so very long prior to meeting him, she found the way he held onto her — trusting, as it was, that she'd keep him upright and not let him pitch forward or backward on the high-speed craft — somewhat endearing. She found she was somewhat disappointed when they'd arrived.
She dropped him off at the southern entrance to the outpost, nodding to him as he clambered off of the speeder. "I'll be back for you in several hours, before dusk, certainly." And then with a wave from him she was off.
The day's work was spent on the carcass of the Executor, the Dreadnought that was said to have been the flagship of Darth Vader, the Dark Lord of the Sith. Rey had scavenged it a few times before and was already familiar enough with it to know what to focus in on, what to hunt for inside the behemoth starship. She made quick work of the innards of control panels and switchboards, yanking and wrenching parts out of place to put into her knapsack and take back to Plutt.
By the time the sun began to sink in the sky she was already back at Niima washing her wares, her hands swathed in arm-high rubber gloves as she scrubbed the metal parts with a caustic solution meant to rid it of rust and dirt, so focused on hurrying through her work so that she could meet up with her friend once more that she paid little attention to her immediate surroundings.