Chapter Text
Fresh and clear, another day in the Sun held by the unmitigated expanse of Sky that stretched on seemingly forever’ allowing its warm touch to fall upon unprotected skin. Gentle splashes misted up from the Sea which playfully teased those standing along its coast. The cooling Sun leathered shoulders where sweat and sea salt have long become one.
They stood with stone-weighted interwoven ropes in hand, waiting for their next chance at conquest, and watched fish swim to and fro from their grasp. With gentle patience and hard practice, they caught the slippery creatures nearly every day.
The Sun began to descend over the highest crest, alerting the gathering that it was mealtime. Baskets surrounded the workers, settled on dry sand all along the beach, all of them partially full of food. Some were fresh and solid, some already prepared for the coming phases of the season, while a few were to be separated to be preserved for their regular move inland later when the weather turns.
A simple man once a boy called Huna, of average build for his people though on the shorter side and with a lack of hearing. He worried himself sick that he’d never find his place. Now he knows that was ridiculous, his parents never gave up on him. And his people, while hard workers themselves, allowed him the space to find his place among them. Thankfully his strength came from his patience and curiosity, not his physical self.
He was creative and determined that all he needed was to find what he was capable of. During Huna’s 6th full season, his father found him looking out into the Sea upon their return. Holding him close, the rumbles of his Fathers's chest soothed him even if he couldn't understand the meanings on his breath. Drying his tears, his Father handed him a small knife to match his own and he learned quickly that he did not need to hear to provide for his people.
Now, so many seasons later his father has long left them to find his peace on the other side of life. Neither of his parents were here anymore, already old when he was young, they never got to meet his Chosen, their Children, or see how much their people had grown in the rolling tides.
At his age, he’d seen many things change in the world, and one of the most satisfying was the view of his children growing and joining their people in going through the motions. They had just returned to the region recently after the waters had warmed again from their cooling retreat.
He stood nearly leg-deep in the warm rolling Sea that had given him so much, feeling the weight settle into his already salt-stained skirt. The vibrantly colored textiles now fading into new and wonderful shades. Soon lost in concentration, feeling its life as it pushed and pulled at his body. The Sea welcomed him to take what was needed for his family, his Friends, and his People.
Matching his breaths to the waves, the man of few wants stood proud amongst his fellow casters. While he wasn't and never has been the best at his catch, he was consistent. Catching a few more fish before heading back for his share of the day's mid-meal.
First, he cleaned his tools, then once wrapped protectively in aged animal hide and woven grasses, to keep them secured to his belt and his hands open, he secured them to himself. The weighted-woven catcher was then laid over his shoulders as it dripped from morning use. Chilled drops of water fell over the Father's Sun heated body, and a worn sigh escaped his unused voice.
As he prepared for the short journey back to the gathering, Father watched the Sky. In the distance, just as above was void of any obscurities, There was nothing but open Majestic Sky, pure yet comfortingly crisp with the scent of the salted Sea.
Looking away down the beach, not too far away, his youngest son was trying to hoist his basket. Weighing his own two secured to his back. One was of dead bony fish, and the other was full of sand crawlers, the snapping kind. They always gave good meat. They were held securely in place by his hands, once it was placed gingerly upon his head. The creatures shifted in search of freedom from the basket, making it difficult for him to balance.
He made his way toward the struggling boy. However, during his time of learning the crafts of catching, which while short, he had proven to be prolific. He was a quick learner, while too young for a spear or blade yet and not strong enough to handle the interwoven weights, he wasn't scared of the rolling waves. Even though some were nearly as large as the boy of only 6 seasons, hence why he stayed to the shallows, digging out creatures from the draining coast before the Sea chases him back to dryer sand.
“Aro?” the Father's rumbled voice, with a heavy tongue and numb throat from disuse. His ears never did begin to work, if anything the muffles have faded more.
After 43 full seasons without his hearing, the man once known as Huna barely needed to speak as their people had learned to understand his many gestures as a language all its own. When the boy glanced up with his golden brown eyes, he could only smile at the attempt of his name, hearing it over the waves that trailed up towards their feet.
‘Father’ The smiling boy replied by running his right palm, left across his chest just over his heart.
He did this because Father always stood to Mother's left. He was left-handed, and she was right-handed. They were one another's other half, a reflection of their love in their motions. They could hold hands and still eat, Father could still talk with his left hand open during snuggles. So as their family grew so did the number of gestures.
‘Father, go, home?’ The man was so proud of everything. Nodding, he patiently waited for Aro to either succeed in lifting the basket or accept defeat and ask for help. So he stared out into the distant Sea, watching as the boatmen returned to the shore, nets full of bounty. As he gave the boy his moment, a small hand pulled on his aged eye-shell and hide belt. He looked down to see the sorrowful face of his child.
He knelt, removing the already heavy basket from atop his head, and transferred a few creatures from Aro’s basket and placed them in his own. Of his crawlers, he saw a good amount of the slimy slow ones and a few pearl makers but most seemed to be eye-shells of differing sizes. Not many snappers, though they always seemed to startle the poor child. The leggy critters would make a wonderful boil, mixed with a variety of the plentiful plants that grew along the forests and undergrowth. The trees always seemed delighted when the fruits of their labor were used to keep those around them healthy, and so in return, they helped by spreading the inedible seeds to keep the forest strong and full for many seasons to come.
He gave the boy a knowing look and a soft smile. The boy could only return the smile shyly. He’d been excited today, too excited it seemed. He'd ended up being greedy, taking more than was needed for their Gathering to not only survive but continue to thrive. They needed to be moderate in their people's ability to call these waters home, overindulging would only lead to disaster.
When done, Father watched the boy try again, it was still a little heavy, but he’ll learn soon enough to only catch what he can carry. For now, he’s just a boy, a growing boy at that. So with a slow beloved sigh, Father stands, knees creaking after long hours of standing bent against the tides. The crawlies, just as wiggly as before, were hoisted over his head. Turning to follow his son, they returned without issue to their people's gathering.
Upon arrival, his oldest son R'lo arose from his workstation to take the fish basket from his aching back. Being nearly a full adult himself the young man stood just shy of his father's height. His hair was just as long, if not more so due to its simple well-kept style of braids. As R'lo approached drawing his right hand, left, over the heart, his crooked smile only faltered as his younger sisters pushed him out of the way to receive the basket from his hands.
Mischievous smiles danced over their near-identical faces. ‘Father, happy, see, you. do, you, no, eat, roj-fruit’ Ene the eldest quickly motioned to him, her smooth gestures were, as always, arching and wide, nearly hitting her sister. Offee, who in common response simply grabbed her arm, holding it safely while she too said hello to their Father.
‘Ene, Father, eating, roj-fruit, no, important, Mother, wants, Father, thoughts’ Nodding in response to the delivered message he replied in turn that he did eat roj-fruit, but they tasted like sand.
He handed over the neck-cracking weight that seemed to be light work for the two young soon-to-be women. They’d dismember the creatures, giving the meat to the cooks while the shells and pearls would be washed for crafts. Feeling a tug on his shoulder he returned forward to see his eldest, amusedly pulling the ties holding the fish to his back.
Looking to his right, just an arm's length away, was his youngest who was handing his basket of shelled crawlies to the nearest person who’d take the heavy load. While Aro was excited to grow up like his older siblings, Father could see he was ready for a nap after midmeal. Honestly, he could use the same… After he sees his chosen of course.
Once unloaded of his catch, Father led Aro toward the delicious scent of food. The large clay pot sat upon a heated stone, the fire lay just below in a solid dirt pit. This way, it would keep the warmth going up instead of out and would protect it from the sea's heavy breath.
Today's midmeal seemed to be thick, shredded, underground vegetation and slime crawler stew. The mixture of sharp-scented plants dried and smothered into the soft muscles of meat before they were boiled in the water making it more savory. He Grabbed two clay bowls for his sons, the youngest boy was standing to his left with already half-lidded eyes. Once the hot meal was in him he’d be asleep for a while.
He sat the drowsy child down next to his brother, who was already partway through processing and salting the fish he’d handed him not too long ago. R’lo smiled at the bowl of stew set down just out of reach, ready for when he was finished. Father's aged hand rubbed across his bent shoulders as the older man left for more of the boiling meal. R'lo would make sure Aro was taken back to the family hut once his meal was finished. For now, he filled two more bowls to the near top with the many meats and plants available in the thick flavored waters.
He made his way across the gathering and into the largest hut used mostly for social meetings. Today was no different. Father found a large number of people within its sturdy walls. They sat in bunches, along the floor space mostly, crafting one thing or another.
He found his chosen one alone, sitting in the back of the building and surrounded by a scattering of flattened carved pieces of wood and some dried clay tablets. She held a thin stick in hand, blunt from her markings placed all over her part of the sandy stone floor. Some symbols were illegible, her hands were scuffed as she used them to erase unwanted notions, only to start over again. Waving it around with the exaggerated motions she’d passed to their daughter, her eyebrows scrunched together as her lips moved in muttered breaths he’d never hear.
Sitting down in front of the work she’d been going at for much of the day, he glanced at her piled-up collective resources and wondered what she was even up to which required HIS opinion of all things. He didn't have much of one these days on anything, well anything that wasn’t to do with their children or a hypothetical issue. That is how she caught his attention, always curious and wondering for more just like he was.
The curiosity never truly left him, no matter how he aged or how many answers he’s learned He’s somehow gained an uncountable number of more questions, most if not all he’ll never know the truth of. So he's often accepted the hardship of complacency in place of childish curiosity.
Something their children fight daily. However, she found joy in how Father fell in love with teaching all over again in watching and embracing their children's own wonder in the world. Mother of course encouraged it all, even when the Gathering found them disruptive.
Many great creations and artistic expressions happened over the last 20 Full seasons, mostly in how Mother had changed the basic methods in which their people were taught to communicate. Father found that the more people understood him, the easier it was to share his opinions and ideas.
Father and Mother, while not important to the Gathering as a whole, everyone knew Wilo. And where she went, Huna wasn't far behind. Wilo, in pursuit of alleviating the distance between their people and her love, built an entirely new job. She was a keeper of language, of families, of stories told within their group as well as travelers that came and went. Bridging the gaps in misunderstanding outward and within.
Mother wasn't the only one to change, while still drawn to the sea, Father appreciates more of his life on land these days. One day he may leave it altogether and become a shiner like his daughters, maybe when his youngest is older.
For now, he’d get his chosen to eat and see what she needed his thoughts for, or maybe after he’d go snuggle their baby for a quick mid-day nap.