Ouroboros Spine kisuk-kikuyak-iik

thread title means "aurora through clouds [clouds dispersing over dark sea]"

It was the evening but the sun had only recently set. Days lasted longer and longer of late, and in the darkness that came after the sky was so clear that Kigipigak could trace familiar stars overhead.

The children were fast asleep.

Kigipigak beckoned through the mouth of the ulaq to invite @Ariadne outside, as the couple had not had much time together since the ceremony for Little Fox.

The conversation with Amalia swirled in his head, and so did his time spent with Stratos (which I won't reference further because it's ongoing); and the Tartok man knew in his heart that something needed to be said.

Ariadne had been preparing for another night of singing the star hunter to the dancing lights when Kigipigak summoned her.

She'd just finished painting fresh blood upon her face and was snacking on dried meat when she heard his voice. It'd been some time since they'd had some alone time, so she quickly heeded his call. She scarfed down the remains of her snack, picked herself up, and carefully made her way out of their ulaq.

She wouldn't have much time to talk, as the ceremony would start soon, but she was curious to know what was on his mind.

Husband? she asked slowly as she emerged outside, blinking against the strong moonlight as she pulled alongside him.

When she came to him, Kigipigak was prepared to move over and share his space but he froze, seeing the blood upon her face. This was how she had looked when their son had died; this was how Sunshine people honored the dead. The shock of the moment faded as he remembered Shikoba's passing.

Oh, you are busy, he murmured. Perhaps when the songs were sung and over with, they could have their time together and talk. Would it be too late by then? Kigipigak would not keep Asivaq from whatever it was she intended for the night.

I—... I miss you. I thought we could spend some time together with the children asleep. Look, he motions to the clear sky where a sheen of faint green traces the horizon, The lights.

Ariadne was torn between wanting to stay with Kigipigak and going to join the others. Yes ... she said, her words trailing as she looked up at him. I was just about to leave—the songs will start soon. Her voice was quiet; she hesitated.

He went on to express his feelings and bring her attention towards the sky, and she felt her heart swell at his admittance—he missed her. Did she miss him the way he missed her? She wasn't sure. There had been too much strife; the rift between him and her mother was too much for her to ignore.

She worried her bottom lip and looked towards the dancing lights. They took her breath away! She studied them, feeling peace in her heart, and was reminded of the night ahead. Did Shikoba see them, too?

They are beautiful, she said. I can stay for a little bit—it has been a while since we were alone. She smiled thinly, hoping that'd suffice.

His admission was not something he wanted to repeat; he did not want to beg for the attention of his wife, and thought that by mentioning their time apart lately he was doing exactly that. She was obviously very busy between her work as a mother and the reconnection with her own family, not to forget the loss of Shikoba for which she had already prepared herself.

As Asivaq watched the sky, Kigipigak showed the same interest in the faint shifting of color above them. She agreed to linger for a short time but Kigipigak knew she was only saying that to appease him, because she had other things to be doing; and his sense of duty demanded he let her go, because they could find another time to spend together. It would be rare in the coming days, as their children became more animate and more curious of their new village—but he had to trust that Asivaq would make the effort, and he knew he would try as well.

They were alone, then.

Kigipigak watched the sky until the colors were indistinguishable from the darkness of the sky, having shifted and flowed away from them. To the Tartok man they were only colors—like a rainbow, which held no deeper meaning. To Asivaq, he wondered what she saw. Was this Shikoba making her farewell? It made little sense to him.

With a sigh that broke the stillness, Kigipigak offered one last attempt at connection for the evening: Maybe I should join you? What would she think of that? Of course, it was late—and someone needed to watch the children. Asivaq would be going to sing the songs, which meant Kigipigak had his own duties to attend to.

600 for you!

She allowed her gaze to linger on the sky and only looked away when she heard her husband's sigh. He made an offer that would be hard to refuse, but his delivery left more to be desired. She quirked a brow and met his gaze.

You ... would do that? she said, testing the waters. Why was it so difficult for her to accept when this was all she wanted? Perhaps it was his lack of participation in Little Fox's ceremony or his resistance to the Sunshine ways? You would sing? It would be extremely disrespectful if he didn't.

Her hope was like a single colored thread in a dulled tapestry—while threadbare overall, there within lay a singular intact piece which came to life in her eyes.

Kigipigak saw something else when he heard her request: the desperation of a grieving mother. He thought it odd that someone would focus so wholly on what wasn't that they would ignore what was; but that was, for the man, Tartok conditioning manifested. Their son had died somewhere far removed from this village and Kigipigak had made his peace with it—but he saw his wife suffering.

She wanted him to sing, which immediately turned his stomach. What would singing do? Their son's body was buried in the woods and there was nothing left. The lights shifted in the sky, and he watched them; he did not sense any life in them, or witness anything magical. Why did the Sunshine People hide from reality? Singing to the sky would do nothing.

Not nothing—maybe it would remedy some aspect of Asivaq's hurt. Kigipigak looked at her again, resigned. So instead of being with our living children you would have me sing songs at nothing. The statement was offered for clarity, both giving and receiving.

He watched the drying blood on her cheeks.

Last from me!

"So instead of being with our living children you would have me sing songs at nothing." Kigipigak said, slashing her hopes.

Ariadne faltered, looking down at her paws with a resigned sigh. It isn't nothing, she insisted, feeling many unpleasant things at once. We are sending off my anaa's start chaser off the the dancing lights. We are ensuring her place with the ancestors—it is not nothing! Finally, she looked up at him, clearly bothered by his lack of caring and understanding. And the children are safe here. We are in a village with support now. They would have been fine while we sang.

She had nothing to say to him, so she got onto all fours and shook her fur. I am going now. Don't bother following. With that, she set off to where the others gathered for the night's activities.

His statement had been his way to seek understanding; yet the woman before him reacted swiftly as a child might, and erupted with her hurt before choosing to leave him alone with the lights. How could they mend this if Asivaq refused to have a proper conversation? But she had not really been here; the girl with the painted face, so invested in her mother's traditions.

Kigipigak watched her storm away, seeing now that a choice had already been made. His focus cast back towards the ulaq as he frowned, and headed back to the only family that would tolerate him.