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Post by Hotah:tahatan on Jun 10, 2014 5:39:41 GMT
With the ease of someone used to moving Hotah:tahatan had melted back into the surrounding landscape, carefully parting the bushes. He wasn't wanting to move too far away from New York, but nor did he feel he could find a place there to sleep, or find food. It was all loud, and noisy. So instead he'd moved back to where he was familiar with. The place he'd overheard some of the white men call froniers, whatever that meant. He was learning quickly white men were odd, and made no sense. And were also prone to making his head ache.
So he was choosing not to have anything to do with them. At least not without food, water and a good sleep. As he spotted his prey he started to move to place an arrow to bowstring half raising himself out the bushes to take aim.
*BANG*
He flinched dropping down hearing the cacophony of birds taking off trying to comprehend what new horror that could be. As he warily raised his head he saw a deer, trying to run, not killed. More whiteman cruelty.
He moved forward swiftly, no longer caring about if there were any more bangs drawing the hunting knife that he carried as part of his gear and bringing it across the deers throat, one hand holding her close, feeling her sinking down, murmuring a silent prayer to the spirits to take her spirit as he inspected the damage. Other than the knife wound there was .... an odd wound on her leg. It was not made by arrow but it had shattered the bones.
As he heard footsteps approaching he was more than prepared to speak his own mind.
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Post by Rebekah on Jun 10, 2014 7:18:43 GMT
When she heard the gunshot, she was already in a deep sleep. Rebekah would always steal away to the wilds after a day's work, but she'd hurry back right after sunset. On those afternoons, she was longer 'Rebekah, the slave-girl', or 'Rebekah, Susannah's attendant'. No, she became 'Rebekah the explorer'. She'd swim in the streams or watch fire flies mate, and nature from afar. She was always careful and quiet, and usually, she would never get caught.
But when she heard that gunshot, it immediately jolted her upright. Rebekah assumed that they must have noticed that she wasn't in her quarters. This made her look like a runaway. She looked up. The sun had gotten lower than it was when she first fell asleep, but she didn't want to risk herself. Her legs moved fast, ducking through high grass and behind trees. She entered a clearing, but the scene before her made her want to walk back.
She saw an Indian; with a knife in his hand standing before an already dead doe. Rebekah looked up at him, wordlessly, before she carefully walked back. If he had saw her, she had secretly prayed that he would not pursue her. She had heard stories, of his kind being cruel, and while she wasn't one to immediately believe in hear say, Rebekah was still frightened.
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Post by Hotah:tahatan on Jun 10, 2014 7:33:58 GMT
"Wait...." the words came out strongly accented and even Hotah:tahatan wasn't sure if it was the right word, or too strong a word.
"I will not harm you..." he added on, voice quieter though. He hadn't meant to scare anyone.
Carefully he pushed some of his hair, currently left hung loose other than where he'd still got a woven feather in it, back behind his face, just as carefully returning his knife to its place at his belt. He was full dressed still, a beige fringed top and loose fitting trousers, soft soled boots finishing the attire, and was grateful that he at least wasn't wearing warpaint. Surely that would have made him more intimidating... which wasn't his aim.
He showed his hands silently, almost as if trying to settle an anxious horse, which in truth was all he really knew waiting to see if his attempts to calm her down had worked. He couldn't see a gun so he had to assume this wasn't the hunter at least.
"I merely wish to know who shot this doe so callously, no tribesman would shoot to cripple and not kill..." a hint of anger flared through his voice before he calmed it again. "But I doubt it to be you,"
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Post by Rebekah on Jun 10, 2014 8:05:14 GMT
She was half way back in the tall grasses before he spoke. And while his English wasn't the best, Rebekah had gotten the gist of what he had said. With her shawl wrapped around her waist, she came back. Rebekah was deliberately slow in revealing herself, bit by bit. Her own hair was braided, pulled back by a light blue ribbon she borrowed from the Frey girl. Her dress was a light yellow, and unadorned. She would've been a sore sight in the forest's canopy, but the dark brown shawl she worn across her stomach would cover her.
"You know-" She thought for a moment, her gaze turning back to the woods and back to him, "You know English?" She was surprised, and still scared, but she hid her fear well enough. And that's when she remembered his explanation. There were hunters out here. Hunters of animals. Not her. Thank God. Well, she hadn't seen any hunters on her way here, they may have been in the opposite direction or anywhere.
Still, she kept her distance. Her glance focusing on his knife and how the blood on it matched the blood on the deer's fur.
"Those white folks'll get mad, when they'll see you with their catch. They'll think you stole her." She kept her speech in brief sentences, seeing as she was still on alert and he was still a foreign presence. "If I were you, I'd just leave." Did he even know what she was? Most people wouldn't give her a second thought. Why did he want her to stay? Thousands of questions poured into her head as she silently observed. She could feel the sun get lower and the air cooler. "Rebekah." she said, "My name."
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Post by Hotah:tahatan on Jun 10, 2014 8:16:31 GMT
"You not like whiteskin..." he stated as he observed her curiously. He gave no explanation for his knowledge of English however. He wasn't quite sure of those words. He looked over at her again. "Hotah:tahatan," he responded. He couldn't help the frown at the strange name she'd given. He wasn't going to even try and say it, and then he realised she'd probably struggle with his own name.
He was watching her though. He gained the gist that if the whiteskin found him with the prey he would be thought of stealing. "Learn to kill nice" he stated. "I wouldn't have to finish the jobs for them with proper respect for the spirit and the animal if they would kill cleaner" he was totally unaware that he'd slipped into his native tongue, struggling too much to express what he was trying to say in English.
He only knew what little English he did from accompanying his tribe on trading expeditions. Then they were killed by whiteman. Again the flash of anger showed in his eyes, his nostrils flared. He certainly did not approve of them.
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Post by Rebekah on Jun 10, 2014 8:31:34 GMT
"No. I'm not..." So he didn't know. She was almost offended when he didn't say her name but she was stubborn enough to attempt to say his, "It's nice to meet you Ho..tahnata.n?" She was awful, but she settled on calling him, "Hotah." for now. A small laugh left her lips. Kill nice? She couldn't find a white man that would act nice. At least to her, anyway.
She was a bit taken aback by his rage, however. The speed of how said those words, those untranslatable words certainly made her feel nervous, but as long as he kept his distance. As long as she kept her's, she would be fine.
"Where do you live?" she almost regretted asking that question. Rebekah wasn't sure if having small talk with a native would be a good idea. And there was always that chance of them being watched that had frightened her. He was strange. He seemed calm natured and then, on the flipside, his voice would raise and she could tell, from his face and the tone of his voice that he was angry. "I live on a manor. I'm really not supposed to be here."
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Post by Hotah:tahatan on Jun 10, 2014 11:19:45 GMT
"White men, Big fire.... all gone," he stated with a sigh. "White man told, try find," he shrugged at that. He wasn't sure if the other could even understand him. Or at least get the gist of his words, what he was trying to say. He wasn't particularly planning on mentioning he wanted to find to try and work out if he had anything to do with the loss of his village. No that would be giving too much away. "I live..." he gestured to the surroundings lands. It was the only way he could try and explain for him this was his home.
"Ma..manor?" he asked. He wasn't even sure what one of those was. He'd already worked out white men lived in very strange buildings. But he didn't know what a manor was.
((Sorry its short))
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Post by Rebekah on Jun 10, 2014 17:25:14 GMT
"It's one of those big houses." she tried to explain, but she gave up in mid-sentence. She wasn't sure if he even knew what she meant, so Rebekah had let it go. "You lost your home in a fire." Rebekah repeated, "You're lookin' for more... like you? Survivors?" Rebekah wasn't sure if her interpretation had made any sense or was even the correct one, but she gave it a shot.
No one deserved to be alone like that. "I know there should be more like...like you, somewhere." He may have to search, but it was possible. He was a stranger, and in his eyes, she was one, too, but she did want to be helpful to the ones who weren't threats. With her fears subsided, she felt some comfort in assuring him.
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Post by Hotah:tahatan on Jun 10, 2014 17:35:43 GMT
Big house. Okay he thought he knew what a Manor was at least. "Tribe some safe, white man.... came.... was hunting...." he'd paused to gesture at himself then trying to indicate that he was hunting. "Told home not safe," he added on frowning slightly. "Told tribe, not come night," he added on frowning intently.
"White men came, out hunt meat," he again gestured to himself to try and indicate he was the one out hunting again. "Other hunt as well, come back. Fire, all gone," he reiterated. "Find white man. Find who did," he looked over at her again frowning.
He wasn't frowning out of anything to do with her, it was just requiring thought for him to speak English. He knew what he wanted to say, but in the same breath no one would speak his language. At least no white skin... or not white skin. He wasn't certain where to classify Rebekah. She wasn't like the white skin at all, and while he wanted to know why, he felt it wasn't a suitable question.
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Post by Rebekah on Jun 10, 2014 18:01:36 GMT
There was a fire and there were men, white men who started it. His village was gone, at least that's what she deciphered from him. Ah, she wasn't the best at deciphering, she was more of a watcher. She would study his movements, the anger in his voice, the way he held his hands. But she had never deciphered. His accent was heavy, but she could tell that he'd been cheated of something important to him. It was then that his frown had made her feel nervous and so, she hugged her shawl around herself, as a way to shield her own feelings.
"What will you do now?" she eyed the still dead deer, her own voice merely a whisper, "Are you going to stay here, by yourself?" Or was he going to find like himself like she mentioned before?
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Post by Hotah:tahatan on Jun 10, 2014 18:42:36 GMT
"Find white man told. Find how. Find who did," he reiterated, managing again to ignore that most white men spoke English, not his own native language. He was also ignoring that the sentences had no real context. He was frustrated at his inability to make himself understood, but did not know how to ask for help with his English.
He didn't want to admit the weakness either. He looked over at her again, hoping she could at least understand what he was trying to say. That he wanted to find the white man who'd told him the village was going to be burnt.
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Post by Rebekah on Jun 10, 2014 18:57:03 GMT
"How do you know if you've found him?" She finally asked. Would he kill him? She supposed that would've been the next course of action, if the man had also burnt it to the ground, but she then she asked, "Do you think he did it? Or was he helped?" She was she had been so invested in this as it was.
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Post by Hotah:tahatan on Jun 10, 2014 20:17:30 GMT
To that question he gestured to his eyes. He couldn't work out how he would say that he'd recognise him. It was the only way that he could think to explain that he'd recognise him visually. He looked over at her quietly. His head tilted to one side as he thought his words over. "You... not white skin.... you not.... like.... white skin.... why?" he asked hesitantly.
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Post by Rebekah on Jun 10, 2014 20:31:14 GMT
Of course. That did seem like a dumb question. He may've even had the man's face ingrained upon his mind. She didn't blame him, but when he asked her why her skin wasn't white, she felt a lump form in her throat. Now, she didn't mind her coloring or the fact that she was black, but it had more to do with her position in this world.
It was rare to find someone like who was free, there were so many loopholes to get out of this life that many would've rather died.
She stood there, her eyes focusing on the bandages on her hands. They never seemed to heal. "That's because I ain't a 'white skin'. I'm black."
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Post by Hotah:tahatan on Jun 11, 2014 17:16:37 GMT
"Say... like not good..." he stated frowning. He couldn't understand why anyone would be ashamed of their skin colour. Well other then the whiteskins. He didn't appreciate it. "You hurt..." he murmured softly reaching his hands out, wanting to take the bandaged hands quietly. He was looking over at her curiously. His head was tilted.
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