Revolution

Hadian Torzinei could hardly believe the day had actually come. He'd heard people back home talking about the Festival of Colors (though in Azurei, they had a different name for it, "Kiju e'pinaja", which meant, 'festival of lies') and he heard even better stories from people he met outside of Azurei who'd actually been there. He heard there were merchants selling useless but very sparkly things, hand-carved toys, fancy swords and even bows. And the food...he could only imagine the things he had described to him. He was chiefly interested in fruit pies, something he'd never actually had before. He told himself every summer that someday he would go and see it and eat pie until he was fat, but today was the only time he ever actually did. Truth be told, he didn't know how to find Vyyrica's capital, Oppanir, where the festival was held, because he could not yet read. This time, he had help. This time, they were close enough that it was actually feasible for them to go.

Hadian, barely able to contain his excitement, was up before the sun. This was unusual for him--normally the boy liked to doze long into the morning until the sun was well risen and began to warm up the earth. There was a time when he got up with the sun--such was the custom in Azurei, as the hot sun made morning chores difficult. But he'd been away for a few years now and fell into the habit of sleeping in when his current guardian would let him.
Not today.

The boy tossed more wood into the embers of the half-dead fire from the night before; the flame grew just enough to make breakfast. He sat patiently by it, waiting for his companion to wake. After all, the faster they got moving, the sooner they would come to Vyyrica's outer walls.

Kupe grumbled in his sleep, as he so often did when his slumber images were filled with Mori, his once upon a time wife. First it was the roar and crackle of the fire that began his decent into the world of wakefulness. His senses flooded to him quickly, first worry that the camp had caught a flame, then peace, when the smell of food filled his nostrils.

"Of all the times I have to pry you out of bed, today's the day you wake up earlier than I." The old man grumbled in his barely understandable gruff voice. He had taken the kid under his wing, mostly because he reminded him of his deceased wife. Though the kid doesn't know the details, and as far as he's concerned, he's just a lovable annoying little twit.

His joints were stiff as he made his way off the bedding and began to pack the very few essentials he had left, everything except the cookware. The kid can take care of those after breakfast, its about time he cooked breakfast. Haidan was about to burst, he was so excited, and it was evident. Kupe was going to play this out, let the kid squirm a little, savor his food.

Hadian was an excellent climber and, while his companion was sleeping, he had scaled a small tree nearby and stolen three bird eggs from a nest, thankfully without the mother knowing. The boy cracked them over their metal pan a little awkwardly--he wasn't used to doing this--but he avoided getting any of the shell in the golden goo in the frying pan, which was success in his mind. Kupe awoke just as the eggs began to cook, remarking on his usual morning routine (or lack thereof) and how unusual that morning was. Hadian flashed him a look with his dark amber-brown eyes that said, 'duh!' as he grinned brightly up at him from where he squatted next to the fire, his teeth shining in bright contrast to his darkly tanned skin.

"I'm gonna eat pie!" he announced, like that was the sole reason for his being up early. "Fruit pie. Wonder what kinds they have....a-and does Vyyrica have ice? I heard they can make ice! Like, make it themselves and keep it. Can they?" This was another treat for Hadian, as ice was nothing more than a fantasy in his nation. Some winter nights he remembered snow up in the mountains, but it rarely ever rained to begin with, so even this was rare, and he was always too far from it to enjoy it. But rumor had it that Vyyrica, who had already made many advances in technology before, and particularly after, the ending of the old wars, had devised a way to keep ice blocks in insulated boxes until they could be used. They could not make it, as Hadian believed, but the ability to have it at all was good enough for him. No doubt there would be cold drinks with sweet fruit syrups and crushed ice--things Hadian could only ever dream of in the desert country of Azurei.

The boy, now pushing eleven, had seen more of the world than most boys his age, or even adults for that matter. His mixed heritage and the cultural stigma that presented provided him with the opportunity to leave home to explore larger lands. Ni'kali to the north was the first place outside of Azurei Hadian had ever been, and he'd spent very little time in Vyyrica. During that time he had learned much and understood the world better than most boys of his age, but his Azurei roots were strong and even now he was a wild looking thing. Shoes were his enemy, unless the weather was too cold for comfort, and he never did understand the concept of a comb, as his black, kinky waves stuck out in all directions and was often tangled. But what really marked him as a stranger to these lands was the intricate tangle of indigo, black, and white tattoos on the right side of his face that spilled under his cheekbones and down the bridge of his nose in delicate and precise patterns. Every Azurei bore tattoos like his but each one was as different as the bearer's fingerprints. They called it an ojih ((Oh-juh)), and it was a shortened depiction of all major and identifying events or features about its bearer that was slowly added to as the person lived their life. An ojih in Azurei culture was as important as the soul, and to mar another man's ojih was a crime punishable by immediate death. In all his life, Hadian had never heard of anyone even trying to unlawfully alter an ojih, but the thought chilled him all the same.
Hadian was never ashamed of showing his own ojih and would generally translate each mark's meaning to anyone who was interested enough to ask. There were some marks, however, he did not talk much about or bring up; they were obviously not a source of pride for him.

Hadian flipped the eggs over to cook on the other side impatiently. "Have you ever been to Oppanir? I hear there's no city like it in Vyyrica. No city like it anywhere. I bet it's huge!"