Does this three even have roots? - Sparrow, Armagus

[Sparrow]

Sparrow had always traveled easily by water or even airship. She had oh so many ways of getting herself aboard any frigate or skipper with her various ways of creating value in exchange for room and board along the route. This particular event involved sea again and they were heading to a place where, for once, the Scion was interested in with intention: Haalud.

While she only had the faintest memories of her true mother and her culture; those people who had left the Black Sun nearly a millennia prior to the present and had existed within it for the same amount of time after the great unification. She had pieced together that they were a nomadic culture in exile who had since taken to the air and sea of the Vasten ocean where massive pockets of their culture remained spread over the immense expanse with heavy control over many small islands and outposts. Only this one, Haalud, had been colonized as a territory by the empire for the purposes of air and naval trade maintenance.

Some of her people, the Xluach (Slu-ahh) were still around, still indigenous to the land though the majority had chosen, or were forced back into full a maritime and celumtime lifestyle in ships that rarely docked. Sometimes one could spot them if close enough to the coasts; their ships connected until they formed small autonomous cities on the ocean surface.

Sparrow wiped sweat from her brow and padded across a stone pier onto the crowded coastal chaos of Haalud. It was hot here as this particular location on Sanctum was experiencing its hot and wet seasons as opposed to the the frigid winters of the northern hemisphere. No comfortable cloak and durable fabrics for the Iron Mother this time around— she’d dressed in muted colors made of thin linen, her upper body only covered by a camisole-like garment that hung around the neck, tired around her bare, whip scarred back and hung a long panel of translucent sienna fabric down to her knees. Deep gray, loose harem style pants extended to her calved and billowed in the occasional gust of high appreciated island wind. All of the rest of the woman was brown and bare— even her feet— save for the single black bangle on her right wrist and a loose necklace of slate tone disks hanging from her neck.

The legendary azure stone and clay buildings of Haalud loomed behind all of the shops and speakeasies littering the beach; a motley crew of all sorts were milling about as well. Apparently, this was a dangerous place for foreigners.

However, Sparrow was on the hunt for those who had been inhabiting the island for centuries rather than the wandering pirates and barbarians or the mercenaries and militants from the Black Sun who tended to operate under a shake truce or social contract: don’t start anything and neither side will feel obligated to finish it.

But who did she look for? People who resembled her? Or blurry images of her mother? Perhaps the images she’d seen around the world by those who exotified the oceanic and air nomads and shamelessly appropriated their customs, garb and diet when it was trendy?

It occured to the woman that she had a very vague start to work with. Unfortunately, it would have to do for now. Difficult it was— when someone couldn’t remember their true birthname. Only that her mother’s name had been something ‘Na Gig’, a last name she’d given to Rose more than twenty years prior.

Now, there were plenty of people matching her skin tone in Haalud and more that were much darker or even pale as the driven snow.

This wasn’t going to be easy.

[Armagus]

Time was suddenly irrelevant.

Sparrow hung in the air, hoisted up by her torso with her limbs dangling below her. There was a wave of displaced air crashing through the room and the study was on the brink of destruction; books were angled and about to take flight, there was a vase teetering on the edge of an ivory pillar and Nabonassar was in the midst of being blown back from the epicenter of the spiritual convergence.

And then there was Armagus, his left hand aglow as it met with Sparrow's stomach creating the melding point that caused her to levitate with a side effect of physically killing them both.

On the other side, the Mage was confronted with a miasima of power. Sparrow's spirit was broiling - an undulating surface, constantly blistered by anger and radiating a black heat deeper still. Vulnerability concealed. It'd be impossible to precisely target the remnant of mother which left just cleaving Sparrow's spirit open and sifting through the chunks. A clear violation of terms.

Time returned.

The books blasted onto the wall, things shattered and dust filtered from the well manicured ceiling as Sparrow fell to the ground and Armagus stood there with a seared palm, having got too close to the sun.

"This is not good."

---

The recommendation was to do something that would set her soul at ease. At some point, it was tossed around that perhaps she should look for her people. For Armagus, time was of the essence for the completion of his task - but he had few reservations if he was allowed to accompany her.

So here they were, shoulder to shoulder embarking on a journey of discovery. One quite more reluctant than the other however.

"Where do you even start for something like this?"

[Sparrow]

The ferrokinetic hadn’t even wanted to think much about that occasion. Nabonassar had been beside himself with worry along with unconcealed fury for the possibility of harm that could have been done to her— and perhaps a bit for her body being allowed to meet the marble flooring of the Domus Solis Ortum. But other than a bruised cheek and shoulder Sparrow considered herself unharmed if somewhat irritable about it all.

Armagus’ voice alone brought back the aching twinge in her jaw and upper left arm; prompting his current companion to rub over the areas gingerly while frowning.

’Its not as if you had to come along, mage…’ would meet his grousing just before Sparrow shook her head and jammed both brown hands back into the hidden pockets of her legwear. Molten eyes coursed over the buildings— where did one start? ’I don’t know where to start. Or, perhaps better, if this is even a wise enough venture…’

And it would have been easier alone— but there was clearly no way to shake having a much taller, dreadlocked shadow until he safely got what he wanted from her. It was also an extremely bright day with plenty of humidity. For Sparrow, who was near impervious to heat it still managed to be all too bright and uncomfortable. If Armagus cared to look he would see her allowing her eyes to dart around with purpose for getting out of the heat and a chance at easing their twin sour moods. A rather run down cabana style (if one could count hanging seacloth and fishing nets suspended between buildings as a “ceiling” along with set up oak pallets stacked atop each other to form the bar) locale was chosen and she’d duck into it. The mage would have to figure out that he should follow her.

’Should not have come. This is very silly— ‘ she murmured while nearly stomping to the bar top and gesturing for sugar-rot. All of the ports in the Vasten ocean served it. It was similar to rum but sweeter and more powerful in ways that did not mean it was comparable or superior. Before Sparrow had it to her lips she had inwardly admitted that it was more self consciousness that was causing her to react in such a way. Self discovery bogged down by an ex lover. She felt over exposed. Armagus didn’t get to hear any of that, of course.

’You see, this won’t be easy. It’s not as if I can pick out the indigenous from the newer wave of immigra or even the Corsairs from the Black Sun. Everyone here is either brown or a lost foreigner from the north begging to have a knife in his gut.’ Sparrow held out the clay vessel she’d been served the too-young spirits in and demanded some more from the wary looking bay-boy. ’I’ll tell you what I know. The woman who brought me into this world was indigenous to these ports. That was before the collector found me.’

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