Footsteps of a Stranger

[Sansa Stark]

The nineteenth century brought much trouble and turmoil for the Cheyenne


peoples. Wrought with despair from the onslaught of the white man in claims


of territorial advantage, the tribes are prepared to fight back.


But, perhaps, peace can be more substantial than war.


Can the tribes and the Americans unite with one common purpose to seal the lands


and lay down their arms? Or will the struggle of romance between two warring


peoples mean the end of prosperity and human compassion as they know it?
​

"Our first teacher is our own heart."


- Cheyenne Tribal Wisdom

 

[Egyptiankitten2113]

"Our first teacher is our own heart..."

​

Chasity's heart fluttered as she read those words. Without even thinking a delicate hand went to cover the heavily thumping area as she sighed in longing, her eyes fluttering from the leaflet pages of her book out into the sand and dust that covered the area around her. So many times she had tried telling her father that, how she wished to teach those to follow their hearts, to teach them that there is something other than work work work all day long, but every time she brought up her desire to him, he hushed her so quickly...she hadn't brought it up in months now. Months! All that time she had been sitting there, watching her father order the assassination and murder of men and women who had done nothing wrong, all the while she thought that if only she could teach them, that they could all get along better. She knew not what the so called 'Savages' were like, she didn't know if they were truly savage at all, and she wanted to find out. She dragged herself from her window and fixed the skirt of her dress, a long brown thing that drowned her in the fabrics that she so hastily despised.


In a desperate attempt at learning this truth, Chasity did something she should never do. "Mother, I am going out to find a flower I read about." She lied casually, opening a small leather bound book and showed it to the frail woman in the chair in her home. "Shall I fetch you something before I leave?"


"No my darling, just be careful. You know how much your father despises you going out and doing such things." Her mother warned. The elderly Clara, so young yet driven to old age by her constant pregnancies. Even now, only in her thirties she looked old and frail from carrying the weight of her children and husband. "Be back by sundown."


"Yes mother." Chasity pressed a kiss to her mother's forehead before running out into the sun, the heat so welcoming on her skin, and climbed a top her brother's horse, a white steed that knew her and accepted her even better than her bearish pigheaded brother. With a click of her tongue and a press of her heel against its side, the beats took off, racing out into that same sand that held the secrets she wished to know.

 

[Sansa Stark]

DISCLAIMER: I know nothing about the Cheyenne language, and I expect that the translations and grammar used throughout this roleplay will not be accurate as I am using a translation website for assistance. I apologize if I give any offense to those of Cheyenne descent who feel their language is misrepresented. I only mean to use the language in an attempt for authenticity.

​

"Na'ęstse, nés, na'he, név...One, two, three, four..."




The infant held her uncle's fingers in tiny coppor hands, squeezing them tightly in fear she would fall. Ayasha took each step as the deep voice encouraged--one, two, three, four--not yet confident enough to walk on her own, but skilled to the point where she could take several steps with assistance from someone she trusted. Before Honiahaka had reached the fifth number, the baby had tumbled over herself and giggled as she hit the soft cushion of a fur blanket.




"Ah!" he exclaimed, smiling a bit at the sound of his niece's laughter. "Popėhéva'e. Hestovootsé'seh-mo, ai? Good job. You've learned a lesson, hm?"




Her response was a simple laugh. She was so bright and joyful for a baby, he noticed, the more and more she grew. Much like her mother. Much like his dear, sweet sister. It saddened him greatly, to know the two would never meet.




"Honiahaka," came a voice from the entrance to the tipi. Avonaco, Ayasha's father, stood in the doorway with a look of somberness to contrast his naturally upbeat nature and friendly demeanor. "Nevá'esėstse-ho'eotse ho'évȯxe'ėstoo'o. Someone has arrived on our land."


The warrior didn't need any further explanation than that, his cheery expression immediately falling to something darker. He picked up the infant and handed her off to her father, snatching the tomahawk from the edge of the tipi and exiting in a flurry of frustration. Would the fighting never cease? Would his sister's daughter grow up in a world of oppression, slavery, war and the struggle to retain what belongs to her?


Scowling, Honiahaka mounted his speckled mare and shot off through over the plains and into thick forests, the direction where his brother had pointed him.





There would not be an intruder for long.
​

 

[Egyptiankitten2113]

"Slow now..." The young woman hushed her steed, gently patting his head and mane as he came upon a large brush, the trees covering her with much needed shade as she approached the area where she had heard many of the natives had been spotted, and hoped that she would come across one who would be kind enough to speak with her, and hopefully not...dispose of her. "You don't hear anything, do you boy?" She asked her steed, who merely snorted in response, as if to say this entire venture of useless. But Chasity, she didn't want to give up oh so easily.


Taking in her mount's bad attitude, she stood a large tree, one so beautiful in its size, and tied off the horse there on a limb so he wouldn't run from her, and set out of food, having to pick up her long skirts so they wouldn't hang on the branches and weeds around ankles in her search. In one hand she held the troublesome skirts, and she couldn't wait to be rid of them that night when she retired to her bed and in the other she held a small leather bound book, one filled with her own drawings of the life she saw in her travels to this area, and one she constantly filled.


Even now the woman became sidetracked, stopping when she had spotted a small flower, standing tall and alone out there in that wild. Forgetting her true purpose and of the native she had been searching for, Chasity stopped, and bent down to study the small flower, awed by its delicate form and beauty. "So beautiful...how can such a delicate little thing survive out here by yourself?" She asked the strong plant and quickly took her small book and began the sketch of the flora, unknowing of the threat nearby that she had been searching for. Unknowing of any possible dangers because she had been foolishly sidetracked by the beauty of the nature before her.

 

[Sansa Stark]

What on earth is she doing?




His tomahawk was raised, entire body ready to deliver the killing blow, and yet the native couldn't help but pause. The woman who spoke in the White Man's tongue seemed so innocently distracted, so personally enveloped in the poisonous flower before her. Did she know it was poisonous? Hfaf she any way of knowing? Honiahaka was mere feet from the woman's back and still poised in a position to kill, yet he found himself stopping for reasons he had yet to discover. The muscles in his arm seemed to be frozen.


If I don't kill her soon, she will see my shadow and flee. She will spout lies and tell her people that I harmed her. But he supposed that wasn't entirely far from the truth--he had jumped from the bushes in attempt to take her life, only to be stumped by her soft voice and sketches on paper. Is this what I am reduced to, a warrior such as myself?


Still, he paused, unable to make a move.
​

 

[Egyptiankitten2113]

It was true that the woman had no idea that the beautiful plant before her was deadly, and she had no clue on how to discover such a thing, but even so she knew better than to disturb it and risk harming it and herself. Chasity was so wrapped up in her drawing that it was until she glanced up only slightly to see the surrounding area that she at last saw the ominous shadow that covered her entire form.


A loud gasp escaped as she whirled around and shockingly enough, even to herself, she didn't run away from him. She hadn't screamed, only gasped out of surprise, and she didn't run because....well this is what she had been looking for. Her widened eyes locked onto the man before her, tracing his every feature. The way he stood there, legs braced apart, one arm raised, he looked strong, powerful. Deadly. It wasn't until she saw the weapon in his hand that she finally spoke to him, pressing a hand to her chest and tried speaking as calmly as she could, "Please...forgive me. I hadn't meant any harm to you, or any of you. I promise."

 

[Sansa Stark]

Honiahaka did not like how soft her voice was, how innocent and gentle. It defied every nature he knew the White Man to hold. He looked down upon the young woman with spite that could kill, and yet his arm remained frozen, paralyzed by the beauty and the harmlessness of her. She spoke in a language he had never cared to learn, at least not extensively, and his face only hardened and the prospect.


"Totónėstahe-mo? What is wrong with you?" he said in a booming voice, one that threatened to shatter her where she sat.





"Why...here?"

 

[Egyptiankitten2113]

All of her words caught in her throat when the man screamed at her, and she flinched back at the loud booming sound that his voice had caused, and stiffened even more when he switched to English. Wait....English! He could speak English that was wonderful! Her eyes turned back to him in an instant when he spoke to her again, and in a hurry she spouted out the words to the warrior. "I-I came to learn. I want to learn about you. Your people." She answered, words leaving her mouth in a flurry and in rapid haste. It occurred to her that the warrior may not understand her even now, tough he seemed to understand English well enough, she didn't want to confuse him and lose her one chance at a new experience.


"Né'áahtovėstse"- Listen to me" She tried in his language, stammering over the words, "Nétónėševéhe," "What is your name?" She asked boldly, trying to show him that she meant him no harm, that she was friendly...though in his large masculine stature, looking down at her in almost disgust it seemed, she wasn't sure if he would want to answer her.