Chapter Text
The small trade caravan stopped and waited, tension filling the air. The majority of Brightlady Miyeong's trading caravan had been left in Dumadari with orders to book passage to Kharbranth. Claiming her sister Celine was hoping for some exotic furniture, she said she would be taking a small group towards Marat on land. It made little sense, but no one questioned the choice to go overland instead of going by sea at the time. Now the group is standing in the foothills of the Ur mountains near the valley, and there's no denying this detour was about the Brightlady seeking the old magic.
"Make camp here and wait, we'll be back." Miyeong said to the Sergeant Radimon, the ranking guard for the small group. With a nod to the strange Parshman who has been her her closest servant for years, she turns and starts walking into the lush valley ahead with him a step behind. As they walked into the dense plant life they can hear the sergeant's orders behind them. After getting far enough into the vegetation, Miyeong visibly relaxes and takes the hand of her companion. She smiles sadly and says, "I wish there was even a chance they'd understand us." "You know as well as I they're not going to accept a Parshman acting like an equal, and I'm not going to reveal my people to the Alethi." he replied in the rhythm of Longing, completing the sequence that had become nearly a ritual in the rare times they were able to be alone together before pulling her close and kissing her softly. After a short time they continued to walk into the overgrowth.
The Valley seemed alive around them in a way that was almost disturbing. Like you could hear the plants trying to stretch just a little further. The air was damp and musty. They could hear things scampering through the underbrush unseen. "Are we sure we want this?" she asked, showing some of the unease she was feeling. "We risk my station, your life, and potentially subject a child to a world unwilling to accept it."
"Seems we're well past worrying about this, aren't we?" he replies attuning the rhythm of Amusement as the conversation goes down another familiar path. She'd have mistaken his tone once upon a time, but knowing that his people convey meaning far more through their cadence than a Human would she can't help but smile. It took her some time to understand what they were, and even longer to recognize them easily. Over the years they've become a source of comfort.
Taking her hand, he says "I'm fairly sure we decided we were going to accept that risk two years ago when we started down this path. At this point, you've had me recite every bit of lore I know from my own people which we put into practice, including spending nearly a month hiding away so we could see if Mateform could be the key. You've offered glyphward after glyphward invoking the Almighty, the Stormfather, and more than half the Heralds. We've consulted every expert we can find in the breeding of Parshmen and tried many of the methods they've describe despite how embarrassing. After all of that, we've finally ended up standing at the Nightwatcher's doorstep after more than a month of travel in one last desperate attempt at a child you ask if we should reconsider?" He shifted into the Rhythm of Hope at this point and finished with "Nothing has changed about our desire for a child, no sacrifice asked of us will be more than we are willing to give, and no matter how the world might view them we will be the shield from that storm. " She smiled and squeezed his hand, feeling reassured. Finding her resolve again in him, they walked further into the damp jungle.