Nula, Yarın, Ev'saht

[Zimmerwald]

Aygen Cagman awoke face down, inhaling the smell of old dirty sheets.  She was lucky; some of her friends slept on straw pallets.  She could feel the plaster dust floating in the air over her bare back, and knew that if she turned around, she would see them dancing beautifully, reflecting the light where the sun shone through the holes in the ceiling.  But she didn’t turn around.  There was always the danger, this early in the morning, of some shell hitting nearby and knocking more plaster off the ceiling and into her eyes.

Aygen turned and shook Mualla Arif, one of those friends who slept on straw pallets, awake.  Mualla’s home had been destroyed in one of the all-too-frequent skirmishes between the local crime bosses and the police, and her husband had been killed in the fighting.  Her son, Suphi, lay at the other side of the apartment, tossing fitfully, still in the grip of some dark dream.

Aygen and Mualla let him lie, each shrugging on the clothes they would wear that day.  Aygen preferred utilitarian trousers and jacket, but Mualla had taken to the Ozian hijab, and one draped her head and shoulders now.  Aygen had long since given up trying to convince Mualla not to wear it.  She claimed it was her birthright: her mother had been Ozian, or so she claimed.  She wasn’t really sure.  She talked about converting to Gaenism too, but that Aygen found intolerable.

“I don’t see why you can’t accept that Gaenism is the most progressive religion there is, Aygen,” complained Mualla, stirring the pot of corn meal that would be their only breakfast.  “It’s all about unity and brotherhood, or that solidarity you’re always gabbing about.”

“But don’t you see that nobody even follows the precepts of Gaenism?  If they did, Ozia, or anywhere, for that matter, wouldn’t be exploited the way it is now.”

“You can’t blame Gaenism for that, the illumatist Xyraelis don’t practice it,” Mualla retorted, turning the heat down low.

Aygen pulled her shoe on as she smiled in apparent victory.  “But what about all the collaborators, who run the businesses in the name of the oppressors.  Don’t you think that—”

She was cut off by Suphi’s ear-splitting yawn.  The boy ran to embrace his mother as she removed the corn meal porridge from the stove and handed it to Aygen, who served.  “Let’s not talk about that now,” she said, glancing around pointedly.  “They might be listening.”  But their meal was not interrupted, and after it was over the two women went their separate ways: Mualla to her job as a seamstress, Aygen, supposedly, to her work in the quarry.  She ducked out of sight of a passing Xyraeli patrol as she turned to her real destination.

[Xyrael]

Khemat walked with a bit of a limp, shrapnel had embedded itself in his leg earlier in the week, and though the medics had stitched him up he still winced from the pain a bit. The day was going to be hot, and the people weren't much better. They sneered at him as he looked for anyone who'd be a bit friendly, life in the Home Army wasn't usually a lonely job, except for Laen'ka. Hot, humid, and the only shade was provided by shoddy market awnings and a pillar of smoke looming in the distance from a fire caused by a battle the previous night.

His comrade Jatha looked at him with a smile. "Tabemasho."

"Yoshi," Khemat grumbled, rubbing his stomach. He could use a bit of food. The men chuckled as they made their way through the streets, their fingers wrapped around their triggers in indoctrinated paranoia. Khemat noticed a girl ducking into an alleyway suspiciously, but wasn't sure if he should tell his fellows. Either they'd walk into an ambush, or it would be some silly girl doing nothing at all. But with the level of alert the garrison was on, it'd be against his orders not to investigate. Orders, he couldn't disobey an order.

"Jatha mote goran!" he pointed to the alley way.

"Nanda?" he asked, noticing the fleeting shadow and hurried footsteps of sandals slapping stone. He readied his firearm, moreso than it already was, and nodded to Khemat. They grabbed Gel'an and headed for the alley way, hurrying down it as the girl slipped around a corner.

[Zimmerwald]

Damn thought Aygen, seeing the three men of the patrol veer from their route and take off after her.  She'd had some close calls, but she'd never been stopped before.  She knew what to do, there were procedures for this sort of thing, but it was her bad luck that she had been seen moving away from her normal destination.  She slowed to a walk, avoiding the piles of trash on either side of the alley, knowing that it was useless to run.  It would be suspicious as well as futile; she couldn't dodge, and could be gunned down easily.

She wished she'd taken one of the pistols from the cache, as some of the others had done, but had reasoned at the time that it would look too suspicious.  Civilians weren't supposed to carry guns, and she wasn't as adept at concealment as some.  "Halt" heard Aygen, and she turned around.  She assumed an expression of quiet complacency upon noticing that these three were Home Army.  With any luck, they'd have to move on to some more important target soon.  She doubted they'd even finish an impromptu investigation.

[St Oz]

Strelok Revia wandered on top of the dune with himself wrapped in a traditional robe of Ozia. He only had his eyes and hands showing from the covering. He carried with him two bags of Zuavka for his tribe and an IA-7 around his shoulder. Desert life had consumed his soul ever sense his family fled in the deeper regions of the desert. He always thought the southern regions were bad but when he was out in the deep Ozian desert he never imagined a place could be so bad. He saw the mountain in the distance which his tribe would call home for the next few days. They were always moving it seemed. They never stayed in one place and after so much moving he found himself being at the same place he was 5 weeks ago, or they just all started to look the same after awhile. The sand was not soft like the beaches like her remembered, this sand was dry and rough against the skin. The wind was as equal aggravating as it brought more hot air and sand into his face. When he finally reached the cave entrance he draped his Da'pa on the wall of the cave. (ooc: Da'pa is a simple weight on a piece of thick cloth that covers tracks made in sand that is dragged behind someone.) As he made way into the entrance he saw his Lae'sheil(sexual partner) walking towards him with their son. He smiled, always loving the sight of his son he asked Laerah, "Rah'lekhel pulzuh?" (Would you take these?)

She nodded to him and took his bags of Zuavka from him. He removed his cloaks and robe to remove most of the sand off it. He didn't want to look like a desert rat for tonights supper. Even though he had eaten nothing but Zuavka since he was 5 and some of the tribal members for their whole lives, the whole tribe always sat together and meditated together to Gaea for hope. His sister, Adara Revia, was named the reverend mother of the tribe and lead the tribe in the trance. He could never forget her eyes and could never forget them since her birth. His mother and father were in a cave just like the one they were in right now and he watched as the baby was born. He could never forget the eyes and the resent from his father. He wanted to discard the baby because she was an abomination but soon caught a mysterious illness after claiming her an abomination. Ever since many have thought her to be a strong spirit of Gaea instead of an abomination as what was once believed.

As they were in trance he felt a cold wind circulate around him, he shivered and it wasn't even night yet. He didn't look around to see if anyone else had felt it. Instead he accepted it and gained a sudden realization, he was tired of his Nomadic lifestyle and running from the Xyraelis... He never asked Gaea for anything but he asked her in his mind for some sort of blessing that help bring peace to him and his family. He didn't want his son to grow up in the same fate as he did.   
 

[Xyrael]

Khemat and his two compatriots raised their rifles at the young woman, she seemed to look innocent enough but Khemat wasn't about to let some woman get the best of him today. He looked to Gel'an, signalling for him to pat her down. Gel'an strode to the woman, ignoring her willingness to cooperate, and pushed her into the wall. Using the barrel of his gun he spread her legs open, then strapped it to his back, allowing his hands free reign of her body. They searched her quite thoroughly, and in several places a bit more than necessary. After about three minutes, Gel'an turned to Khemat with a grin. "Nanimo nai "

Khemat sighed, looking at the woman with at least an ounce of pity. "Gomen nansa," he apologized, "Doko ni ikimasu ka?"

[Zimmerwald]

OOC: spoken words have been translated to English.

IC: Aygen had to stop herself lunging at the soldier's throat several times as his hands ranged over her body.  She gave thanks for the thickness and weight of her canvas uniform.  "Sandıklı marble quarry is worried about their drainage system.  They think it might give out.  They sent me to İscehisar quarry to inquire about replacing one of the pumps.  İscehisar's had spares for a few weeks now."  To reinforce her claim, she pulled out her ID card.  On it was stamped her place of residence, as well as her job and status as a civilian Gelibolu.

These soldiers seemed lenient, even allowing for the unwanted sexual advances.  That was common enough.  Hopefully they wouldn't ask for a pass or inquire with the quarry about her time card.

[Xyrael]

ooc: I'll translate it for ease, I can type it in Xyraeli when I want it to be clear that your people don't know what mine are talking about.

Khamet grabbed her ID card, checking over it fairly quickly. She was a registered Gaeanist Gelibolu, class C (class A being Xyraeli, class B being allowed into Xyraeli quarter). She was a worker for sure, and he asked her a bit more, noticing that she stuttered a few numbers as she gave him the number for the quarry. One number was incorrect. He paused while looking at the number inquisitively, then glanced to Jatha before calling the number into command. It took about another minute to process his request and gather the information, and by the time it was gathered Gel'an was growing a bit bored.

"Cagman, Aygen. Status is Unknown, she hasn't checked into her post yet."

Khamet turned to the woman with a frown, "Miss, your story doesn't add up, you're going to come with us for processing at the detainment center, understand?"

[St Oz]

Mt. Ijek translated
On the plane, he sipped his Zuavka drink, it was a simple combination of water and zuavka. The appearance of it was like diluted milk and it's taste was the same, watery and dull. However he grew up with the drink ever since he was a little boy growing up with his mother. His father was killed by Xyraelis in an engagement and it was a shame that his father never saw his success. At age 63, smoking Zuavka, drinking more than he should, and having many sexual partners Ozian, Gallipoli, Xyraeli, and Moacian alike, he was still healthy. He even remembered this one woman from Odori when he was in his youth if he could remember correctly.

Dorlov Iseltov came from a long line of Ozian engineers and was the great great grandson of the famous Hashid Iseltov who invented the IA-1, a single shot rifle that finally gave some of the Ozian rebels something to fight with. He was perhaps the most successful of the Iseltovs and perhaps all of Ozia. He was declared by the Xyraelis to be a "Zaibatsu" and at the time he didn't know what it was, he just kept inventing new mechanisms and improving the weapons that his father had left to him. Despite the death of his father he seemed to have a hereditary trait of engineering and mathematics in his DNA. He learned quickly and helped design new mechanisms for the weapons of his ancestors. Gaining favor of the Xyraelis was almost like eating very sweet cake. The initial taste was good but as time went on you started to feel sick of it. He missed his homeland of Ozia and that's one of the reasons he made the research base at Mt. Ijek. The base was hidden and disguised as a simple abandoned gravel airport out in the middle of the Ozian Desert. However the only ways to get there was by walking the desert or by flight. Supplies were airdropped in when necessary and often Xyraelis from the government would come in and check on his progresses. Now he was wanting to retire but he knew that it wouldn't suit the Xyraelis, he was growing old but he was still useful and after all the long years of working he just wanted to rest with Esma, his favorite lover. He didn't care about the languages that he learned, the power, the glory, and the works. Iseltov just wanted peace and wanted to speak Ozian again instead of the languages of Xyrael and a distant people known as the Inglish. However his peace would not come until death where his spirit would return to Gaea. Unlike popular belief, he was religious and he always remembered his Ozian traditions

with his Zaibatsu his many children that several he doesn't even know the names of have special privileges including the many lovers he had. He had a daughter in particular who was very successful. She was born from his Gallipoli lover, Esma and instead of giving her an Ozian name he allowed the mother to name her. She however chose a name that was Ozian and Gallipoli acceptable, Sevda. Sevda was now 23 and still a virgin or childless, at least as much as he knew. Sevda sat across from him on the plane and when he glanced at her she asked him in Ozian, "What's wrong father?"

He shoke his head, "When are you going to get a child?"

She silently sighed, "Father, we've talked about this..."

Dorlov drained the rest of the Zuavka drink in his mouth and called the attendant to bring in some Vodka, "My Sevda, who will pass on your legacy?" He only talked about Gaea around his family, "Gaea blessed me with a daughter that knows more about engineering than I do. I truly want what's best for the family my Sevda. I grow old and the one wish I ask of you is to bear a child in the Iseltov name. All the rest of my children are dunces and your intellect is far more superior. We need the reproductions of Brilliance."

She plainly said to him, "Father..."

"What?"

"Half-Brother Neghrav's child is succeeding in the Xyraeli schools, did you forget about him?"   

"No I did not and that's why when he reaches 14 I want you to take care of him at Ijeck. I don't care what your brother says, he's a drunken fool."

"Father! Why do you speak so less of your own children?"

"Because they dishonor me Sevda, perhaps if you were a mother you would understand but you dishonor me by not providing yourself an heir. I want a grandchild to embrace and make sure you will be honored by excellence."

She rolled her eyes, "I'll see if there are any compatible Da'pa.."

"You will honor me with a grand child then Sevda?"

"You're lucky mother isn't hearing this."

"Oh!?"

Their conversation was interrupted when the attendant said to them in Xyraeli, "We'll be arriving soon, please prepare for Landing."

He nodded to his daughter and they both buckled up and continued conversing. When the plane landed, the aircraft docked within the mountain's hanger which was carved into the mountain and the private jet was parked in it's rightful place. Steps were folded out from the door to exit the aircraft and the two Iseltovs walked out to see that a line of scientists in military formation awaiting to be dismissed. He said the usual phrase in Ozian, "What in Negativity's name are you doing? Get back to work!"

[Zimmerwald]

Aygen nodded dumbly as she was tugged down the alleyway and toward the Xyraeli Military Area.  She noticed that the soldiers kept to the wider, cleaner, more travelled streets, and though they tried to stare straight ahead, she noticed that the men keeping hold on her flinched away from the side streets and the people lining the sidewalks.  The people avoided the glance of the soldiers, and turned their heads away from Aygen, though she stared in supplication at each in turn.  One older man did not turn away, but looked straight at Aygen for the briefest second before hurrying in the opposite direction.

Seeing that she wasn't about to be either killed or rescued, Aygen simply relaxed, forcing her captors to drag her along to their destination.  Along the way, she savored the smells and sounds of the street.  It was an eyesore, but the smell of frying fish in the streetvendors' stalls, the climaxes of emotion of the passerby, and everything else to hear and smell bathed Aygen in a soothing broth of sensory experience.

She was jerked out of her reverie by being dropped on the ground.  Looking up, she could see that she was at the foot of a low, wide concrete building.  This was the barracks and HQ of the Xyraeli Home Army in Laen'ka, as they called it.  The Gelibolu called it the Tortise.  Next to it was the better constructed Marine barracks, and away in the distance Aygen could spot the hangar that held the airplanes that flew daily patrols from the airfield.  She walked, on her own, through the now-open gates to this military base, knowing she would probably never come out.

[Xyrael]

It wasn't long until Aygen was sitting in a chopper between two large men with a bag over her head. Of course, she couldn't see that these men were large, but she could feel the sizes of their bodies respective to hers, and she knew if she made a move they'd break her easily. She imagined that there were likely men across from her, but she couldn't see.

Khemat watched as the helicopter blades spun swiftly, she was going to be sent off into exile, there would be no trial, no jury, just the executioner. Sometimes people just had to disappear. He shifted his gear about, feeling his sword press against his body, when he heard an explosion rip through a building several blocks away. By the Light, what was that!? he spun around to see a fireball rising near the Xyraeli Quarter. He turned back to the chopper as it lifted away, carrying the woman over the sea, before several men barked orders to check what happened. Khemat didn't have time for questions, just time to listen to boots crunching gravel against cement.

The heavy buzz of the chopper was rining in Aygen's ears, endlessly annoying and very loud, she could feel a fresh sea breeze against what little skin was exposed on her neck. They were headed over the ocean, and she could hear two of the men shouting something about Ozians. At least they weren't killing her yet.

It took over thirty minutes, what seemed to be hours, before she noticed the helicopter was beginning to slow. She couldn't see, the blag bag still wrapped around her head, she could barely breathe... a man grabbed her shoulder. "Get up!"

She stood, and felt his large hands push her back hard. Before she could react, adrenaline was surging through her system as she felt the distinct and frightening feeling that there was nothing around her, nothing but air. How high am I... was one of a thousand thoughts that raced through her mind. Before she had time to react, her body slammed into a sand dune at a peculiar angle, breaking her right calf in a truly peculiar angle. She didn't hear much, perhaps because there wasn't anything to hear? The chopper was so distant now...

[Zimmerwald]

<insert neighborhood>, Laen'ka

Abaza Segem had been the one to see Aygen dragged off to the Tortise, and knew that she had been compromised.  He also knew that if she had been captured, there was precious little time for both her mission and for the Council.  He was certain she would be questioned, all her knowledge tortured out of her, all their houses raided, and all of them shot.  Suppressing his sorrow and sympathy for his protege, Abaza hurried to the site.

Aygen was supposed to have planted a time bomb on the bottom of a Xyraeli car.  They had watched this particular eccentric for days, and knew that he liked to, for whatever reason, disappear into the outer city for hours at a time.  He would be deep inside the Xyraeli quarter when the bomb went off.  For security reasons, the device itself was hidden near the site, and was not kept with any of the members.  It was this mission Abaza now hurried to complete.

He, of course, botched it.  He was only two blocks away when he heard the crash and felt the shock wave of the explosion behind him, felt it rip through the weakened wall of a building and get thrown to the ground as it came crashing down.  It was only with supreme luck that he got inside before the patrols did, in time to get pulled down to a cellar, slapped across the face and shouted/whispered to.  "What the hell was that!?

"I'll explain later, we've got to get out of here!  Patrols are sure to be here any second!"

Wordlessly, the little group, including Abaza, fled down an underground tunnel, one pausing to set another charge which would knock down the building, at a later time, of course.

Aygen came to and immediately wished she hadn't.  The searing pain in her leg was made worse by the scorching sun and sand that pressed against her skin and cooked her in her clothes.  At the same time, she wanted to and didn't want to move.  Moving would ease the burning but would hurt her leg, and at all costs she didn't want to hurt her leg.  She looked down: at least it was a closed fracture, and of the ankle at that, rather than the femur.

Worse than the pain was the fact that Aygen felt completely alone.  From the looks of things she had been tossed into the desert, though which desert she wasn't sure.  From what she could remember, she hadn't even been questioned, just hauled onto the helicopter and dumped in this wasteland.  Aygen made a small sound, then collapsed again from lack of water.  If she wasn't hydrated soon, and treated for heatstroke, she would die within hours.

[St Oz]

Semi-Translated
Another day, another day. Strelok thought to himself as he walked across the sand dunes. The sun was right over him as he dragged his Da'pa around the deserts, searching for Zuavka. Today was very windy and his eyes were extra shut. Except he could not and would not come back empty handed, he had to gather some rations for their trip across the desert for the next day. He would go all day if he had to in the Ozian deserts, the sand was more irratating today than it had been in awhile. Almost like a salty bitter sand instead of the regular rough sand. Except to his surprise he found himself still looking out for Zuavka while the winds even blew it in his face. He almost felt like waiting for the Sandstorm to pass by and sit in his tent. However while thinking of these things he found himself with his face in the sand and lying on the sand. Did he trip on something? He put his rough hand on the cooking sand and lifted himself with ease and a little confused. When he glanced behind himself he found what intruded him, almost like a lump in the sand. The picture was hard to make out but he lifted it out of the sand. He started to hear faint coughing and realized this was a human. Quickly he took a cloth from his bag and wrapped it around the person's face, blocking the sand from interfering with her breathing. He knew he was close to cave and felt around the person to find a good place to pick the person up from. He accidentally found out that the person was a she. Brushing off the slight embarrassment he picked her up by her knees and back. He started to rush towards the mountain as the storm grew and grew. Sand was now blowing everywhere making it impossible to almost see but he managed to feel around to the place where he had to go.

Upon entering the cave he traveled into the deep areas until the sand stopped flying about inside the cave. The cave was abandoned but other Ozians had already been there and there was wood for a fire. Wood was sacred and very hard to find but he found himself lucky. However not so lucky when he saw skull and bones right next to it. He figured this used to be a Xyraeli dug out cave structure. Ignoring the origin of the lumber he set it to fire anyway. The girl was breathing slowly and he took a Xyraeli Water canteen and filled her mouth with water, when she drank it the Ozian then stuck his middle finger quickly up her mouth and tickled her back throat and took it out. The woman started to gag and threw up a nasty combination of stomach acid, mucus, sand, and water. He patted her back as she started to gag out some more. She however had unusual clothing on, not the sort of Ozian make. He noticed she had gotten vomit all over her clothing. He took his large blacket and other clothing from his bag. He took off the jacket slowly, noticing she had pain in her eyes, however there was something funny about these eyes in the light of the fire, they weren't Purple or Maroon, odd. Thankfully they weren't Navy Blue either like the Moacians.

However her eyes weren't important now, he kept carefully removing the jacket until it was off and he wondered why she was wincing. He examined her upper body checking for any irregularity. Strelok thought found the problem when he felt her shoulder, nothing irregular. He figured she was just sick of sand. Instead he laid the clothes behind her head and tried to take off as much weight as he could from her head. However this was not enough displacement, he slowly removed her trousers and the other under garments that he found foreign and slightly strange. He then found that she screamed in pain at the movement in her leg. On the naked leg he felt around irregularities and found it. Instead of applying the clothes to her head he moved them to her leg. He laid them behind her leg and wrapped her in the blanket. The girl's eyes were barely open still and he tried talking to her in Ozian, "Sev Haliev?" he tried again.. "Sevi Haliev?"

The woman instead passed out and the man gave her Gaea's wishes. He left to go find Zuavka.

When he came back he laid the three bags of Zuavka by the girl and took some out for he and the girl. "Sev Da'pashei?" he asked waving the zuavka around her nose to see if she would wake up from the strong smell.

She slightly opened her eyes and started to blink repeatedly, he noticed she was up and he said again, "Sev Da'pashei?"

She seemed a bit confused.

[Zimmerwald]

fully translated

Aygen was certainly confused to see this strange, furtive man leaning over her, waving smouldering herbs in her face.  She caughed a couple of times as the heavy cloud of smoke entered her lungs, already abused by the sand as they were, but at the same time, she noticed that the pain in her leg had lessened.  Whether that was due to an anasthetic power of the herb or to the splint that someone, presumably this man, had bound to her ankle she wasn't sure. 

"I'm alright," she said in Ozian, in answer to the man's inseccant queries.  She had only limited command of the language, but she knew enough to string a few simple sentences together.  Fortunately, at the moment, that was all she needed.  "My name is Aygen.  Where are we?  Who are you?"  As she said these words, she propped herself up on her elbows, wincing a little as her leg moved and caused her pain.  She could feel the broken ends grinding together, and realized that the man hadn't, whether due to inexperience or haste, bound it properly.  "Have you wood?" she asked, seeing and smelling a fire, knowing that two sticks of it would be needed: one to splint her leg properly, one to use as a crutch.

[St Oz]

The Ozian was confused a bit by the accent but he comprehended some of her sentences. He said to her back in Ozian, "Why does one say they are fine when they wince? Please Lie down. Your spirit is weary and tired. Have some Zuavka, get nutrient inside the physical form. Oh yeah, I greet you...uhmmm..  Aejen.... My name is Strelok. He did however friend a few logs to her but he was confused, he had only known some survival healing but that was not his job but someone elses. He gave her the rest of the wood around the fire and placed it next to her. He wondered, I think she said wood...

He then asked her in Ozian, "Your body is without cloth, do you want my spare cloth for warmth in the night?"

 

[Zimmerwald]

"I'll lie down soon, Strelok" promised Aygen as she shifted the heavy blanket so she could work on her leg.  Quickly, as Strelok watched, she removed the cloth from under it and slid one of the shorter pieces of wood into its place.  She tore two pieces from the cloth that had been under her leg and tied the splint in place before lying back down.  Pointing at a piece of wood that she thought could bear her weight, she said "That one I need, the others you keep."

Tearing a few leaves off the Zuavka Strelok had proffered, she found herself getting drowsy again, slipping back, not into unconsciousness, but to sleep.  "The cloth would be nice," she found herself mumbling as she drifted into dreams.