[1721] – Y07.221 – A Festival In Our Hearts I

“Hello,” the girl called, her silver eyes peeking up towards the woman.

Hello.

“How are you, miss Tariel?”

Good. You?

“Good.” Konarot tilted her head, her tail swaying behind her, almost forming a question mark. “Miss Tariel?”

Yes?

“Um…” the girl began, blinking. “The world, outside, is dangerous.”

Yes. Tariel pointed slightly elsewhere.

“Um…” Konarot stared at the words. “You are one girl.”

Tariel wrote.

I am a woman.

“Ock. You are one woman! You are one woman, miss Tariel!” Konarot flushed lightly.

Yes.

“Um. You are one woman, and you are travelling across the world, but it is dangerous, so how do you travel all the way?”

Tariel smiled, beginning to write something, but decided to write something much simpler.

I am strong.

Konarot’s lips formed a tiny circle in surprise. “Wao! Woa! Miss Tariel, you are so cool.”

Tariel flushed lightly, and she reached down to brush the girl’s hair gently, and as the girl scampered away to speak with her siblings, the woman let out a soft sigh, one of relief, and one of gratefulness, for the girl was always so sweet.

Tariel recalled how terrifying Konarot had been as a little girl.

‘…’

“Are you enjoying the festival?” Adam asked as Xarot yawned, turning his head to stare up at his father, and as he rubbed his eye, he continued to stare, glare, and then he smirked. “Ah, that much?”

Adam wielded his Tricks.

“Xarot, now that you are empty, you must eat, for we are all vessels, and we must be sure to fill the vessels, so we can grow big and strong,” Jirot said, reaching out to rub her brother’s head, though as she did so, she frowned, turning to her father, who was about to say it, but dared not to speak the words as the girl stormed off to wash her hands.

Adam and little Jarot exchanged a look. The two smirked. Except seeing the look in his father’s eyes, Jarot quickly retreated away to Jirot and Virot. Damrot looked up to Adam. The two smiled. Then Damrot rushed away with Jarot. Jitool looked up to Adam. She smiled. She held out a fist and the two bumped fists, and the girl bolted away, following after her nieces and nephews.

‘Seriously, Kitool, you are so lucky your little sister is so well behaved…’

As the children gathered together, they ate lightly, especially their desserts, in which little Jarot ate not one, but two, but three spoonfuls, one from his sister, one from his mother, one from his father, and then as they offered him another, the boy turned his head, but he was smothered in not one, not two, not even three assaults of affection from his father. The boy squirmed upon his father’s lap, eventually relenting, resting his head against his father’s chest.

Xarot side eyed his mother.

Vonda side eyed him in return. “You believe I will feed you because you are so cute?”

“Yeah!” the boy declared.

Vonda took the boy away to breastfeed him, though had already begun to wean him off. Once the boy was fed, he charged towards his elder siblings with waddling legs, each of whom accepted him within their embrace. It was then she loomed over one of her children. The boy turned his head slowly. The two met one another’s gaze. The boy sighed.

Vonda carried little Larot within her arms, the boy glaring at the world, all the while the other Iyrmen beamed towards him.

“Oh! Is this not little Larot?” one called. “I have not seen him in so long I almost did not recognise him!”

“He is such a big boy now,” Vonda confirmed.

“So big, almost as big as his eldest brother! It seems he is eating Nahtu’s bounty well.”

As the boy continued to receive the affections of the Iyrmen, he wondered if perhaps he should conquer the world, but as he finally returned to the estate, covered in flowers, scarves, and his pockets full of sweets from the Iyrmen, he was assaulted by his siblings, especially one, who hugged him so tight.

“Mummy, did Larot cause trouble?”

“Larot never causes trouble.”

“Of coas!”

“Of course!” they echoed.

Jirot hugged her younger brother close, wincing slightly as the memory flashed. She didn’t realise how tightly she was hugging him. Jirot held Larot close, swaying from side to side. “Are you eating, Larot?”

Larot blinked.

“You must eat a lot, okay? It is because it is the festival, you remember? You are too small, maybe you do not, but it is the festival, and there is so much food, so much food, and we must eat it all, so we can grow up big and strong, and you are already so big and strong, but you are also babo’s greatson, and you are so handsome, and you must eat a lot, okay?”

As the girl rambled on, little Larot returned the hug to ease her heart, and allowed her to hold his hand. As his eyes met his father’s, for a moment he saw the darkness, though as he spotted the red eyes of his third son, he returned back to the present, and smiled awkwardly.

Larot followed Jirot, remaining by her side as the girl began to speak the tale of her family, but this time she did not bully her father. She even spoke his tale, and went on to reveal how her most handsome papo received such a cool title, and the children all spoke how cool it was at the right time, and then she spoke the tale of what her father had done.

“Two times!” Jirot said, holding up her fingers. “He could do so three times, Larot, but daddy, he is too nice, too merciful, it is because he married mummy, so he must be nice, but daddy, he could do it three times, remember, okay?”

Larot blinked.

Tariel blinked.

Filliam blinked.

Kiera blinked.

Adam blinked.

Jirot continued the tale, until finally the second day of the festival, as gentle and calm as it was, came to a close.

As Adam stepped out, he found the others had also stepped out, and as he caught their gazes, he joined them in their training. This time, however, he held out his fists and began to punch, and kick, while Jarot swung his axe, twisting his back this way and that way. Kitool focused upon her punching and kicking too, and her leaping, landing within the shadows quietly. Taygak panted, counting to a hundred, and doing so a few times before she could ease her heart, and after a simple warm wash, they returned back to their rooms to sleep.

If only they had a reason to step out of the Iyr.

If only someone would aim their steel at them.

If only…

Laygak stared at the ceiling. When the arrows had struck, he wasn’t sure how he should have felt. He was retired, or so he would say, and yet of course, of coas, he would step out with his nieces and nephews, for he was their favourite papo, who was so handsome as he was. Yet, he could feel it. Within his heart, he had been almost glad the Aldishmen had given him an excuse to draw his steel, he who was so weak, who was so pathetic, this Laygak who had stepped back in order to allow his younger sister to shoulder the burden, and it was not he who had taken the position of Elder.

Laygak let out a soft sigh. He thought about the next year, in which Adam would step out to face the Reavers. He was certain the half elf would, because he had to. Laygak couldn’t. It would be untoward. Yet, to die to the Reavers, and to have Taygak pick up the sword with an eagerness, wouldn’t that be best? Yes. That should be his role. This Laygak, whose epithet was too cool for him.

PATREON FOR 30+ CHAPTERS!

Why do I have to make so many chapters depressing?