Dante dangled his legs over the edge of the stone lip of his bed crevice and watched the trio keenly. To his eyes, it appeared like both Pauwna and Varvi were quietly listening to the athletic women aside from an occasional interjection. There were also many gestures involved and a not insignificant portion involved physical touch like arm pats or prodding. As for why these things were being done, he was less sure about that. It didn't look especially affectionate, more casual than anything.
Aside from that, he really couldn't intuit much. This did not surprise Dante. Even amongst his peers back on Earth, he had always had trouble. He was the frequent subject of jokes and sarcasm had been difficult for Dante to grasp. His friends had always had to explain such jokes to him, which inevitably killed any humor in them. He had gotten better at this, but it was more than pattern recognition than anything else. What possible hope did he have here amongst a wholly foreign culture? An idea struck him and, emboldened by pure longing, he opened his [Status] and spent an attribute point.
+1 to Charisma.
The experience that followed could only be described as transcendent. All of the things that Dante had learned about the world had been floating around in the back of his mind, nebulous and disconnected from one another. As soon as he confirmed his choice however, connections began to be formed. It was like having multiple eureka moments concurrently.
Dante looked with fresh eyes upon the social scene in front of him. A new dynamic jumped out at him. Previously, he had noticed how much physical touch played a part in this culture but had completely missed all of the eye contact. Varvi and Pauwna had their eyes affixed to the unnamed women in a way that he found to be unnerving. Whereas the woman, for her part, gazed into the distance as if she was above it all. This wasn’t an isolated occurrence either, he recalled how one woman with the healing flames had commanded the absolute sight of everyone present. It was no wonder he had drawn attention when he wasn’t the only one looking. Then, there was that one woman who had assaulted him when he had just left the medical tent. If his memory served correctly, even Jack had paid her his attention.
She must have reacted the way she did because I essentially snubed her in public.
This … he hated this. Coupled with the physical contact, this culture seemed nearly built to be awful for him. At least it was simple, he just needed to look at however everyone else was looking at it. As for the touching, it seemed like the temporary boost he had been given by the charisma increase had not yielded as many insights on that front. The only new detail he had picked up was that was happening in the opposite direction as the gazing. That is, the more socially dominant party was initiating the touch. Although this was convenient in the moment, Dante couldn't help but shudder at the thought of strangers touching him so much in the future. He had no idea what the reasoning for this was either.
I am not going to learn anything new just by watching. With that thought, he steeled himself, pushed himself off the bed, and tried not to limp over to the group. As he came closer the group fell silent and he felt some tension. To his surprise, Pauwna swiveled one of her cheek eyes to gaze at him and he recalled that this was not the first time. Perhaps she likes me more than the others do?
“Good morning!” he said while giving the group a friendly smile. A smile was not returned and Dante was struck by how blank their faces were. Now that he thought about it, this had always been the case. Perhaps facial expressions just aren't as much of a thing here? There was a beat of silence, then the tall woman extended an arm towards him. This he remembered from yesterday and he did the forearm clasp thing that seemed to be the equivalent of shaking hands around here.
“Li Vuspua,” said the woman during the gesture. This was new. Perhaps it was their version of good morning?
“Lee Vuspua,” he said back, stumbling slightly over the unfamiliar words. Fortunately, that seemed to be acceptable and the woman released his hand without much fanfare. Seeking to continue his momentum, he forged forward into the next phase of his plan. Pointing at himself, he repeated his introductions from yesterday.
“Zail vras Dante.” Before he could continue, Pauwna made a noise in her throat and then tapped his shoulder.
“Lal. Zeil vras Pauwna,” she said and pointed at herself then pointed at him. “Zail vras Dante.”
He nearly missed the intent of her message as he was caught off guard by her voice. It was throaty and harsh, almost like a verbalized growl. However, he was certain that it was not intended to scare. Then, the fact that she had corrected him caught up.
I guess 'Lal' means no? Oh I see, this is an ‘I’ versus ‘you’ kind of thing. The difference is the vowel in Zeil, which is kind of weird. That was good to know, but was tangential to his goal.
He pointed at the new woman and said, “Zail vras …?” Dante trailed off expectantly and the women sighed. “Rēva.”
They were interrupted by the arrival of another soldier he had forgotten the name of. During the ensuing greetings, Dante was happy to fade back into the background. His bravery had dried up for the moment.
Soon, the rest of the squad had woken up and congregated around the fire. The stew from last night was reheated and served as breakfast Dante struggled with the same [Warding Flesh] difficulties as last night. However, using the new [Overloaded] charges before taking a bit improved things. In high spirits, he even summoned enough courage to ask for a second bowl, which was given over without comment. As usual, he had overcomplicated things before.
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As soon as he had finished his bowl, he felt a tap on his shoulder and turned to see Svōl’s solid mug staring back at him. The man was holding two shovels, one of which he thrust into Dante’s chest until he took it.
“Vram,” the man stated and then started for the door. While he wasn’t familiar with that word, the intent was clear. Well, If I am going off to the trenches I am going as prepared as possible.
+1 to Fortitude.
+1 to Perception.
He immediately regretted leveling both at once, as the intense pain flooded his senses. At least it managed to mask the itching caused by the fortitude increase. He was unsure if this was better than having two separate events but he supposed that there would be time enough to test that. Heaving himself out of the chair, Dante suppressed a groan and followed the man.
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That was Dante’s schedule for the next few days. Get up and practice the language during breakfast, the trenches where he would slave away for most of the day, return to the barracks for dinner, and then sleep. Repeat. Occasionally, he would visit the sapling whenever he was feeling tense. So he visited that sapling damn near every night.
Svōl was his near-constant shadow the entire time. It seemed like he was never more than a dozen paces away. Even when he went to the bathroom though, blessedly, he did not watch him then. It was a constant annoyance and he could only hope that the man would become less vigilant over time. While he never got a chance to see what Svōl could do, Dante was certain that he eclipsed him in every way. Escape was going to be impossible with the man around.
At least Svōl would talk to him. Dante would point to an unknown object and his jailor would answer, most of the time with a single word. Never seemed frustrated even when he had to ask multiple times. His acquisition of the language was a slow process. At this point, he knew the words for most common objects around the trenches. The problem came when trying to put them together. The vowels in the words changed all the time and he was getting constantly corrected. It was to the point that he was wishing that he had something to take notes with. It wasn’t the only problem either.
“Lal. Nōzlo. Nooozlo.” Pauwna said slowly as if speaking to a child.
They were both on break in one of the trenches. Him from digging and her … from whatever it is that she did. Besides him and Svōl, he wasn’t quite sure what the responsibilities of everyone else in the barracks were. Sūnva seemed to be in command and he had seen her ordering about soldiers from other barracks. The rest however, he had not seen them doing anything yet. Concentrating back on the task at hand, Dante tried again.
“Nozlo,” he said, then flinched as her palm came down on his thigh. Dante didn’t hold it against her, it wasn’t painful. It seemed like with any affirmation came a pat, prod, or shove. Honestly, he was just happy that someone was seeking him out other than Svōl. Given that the man was basically his warden, that didn’t count.
He wasn’t sure exactly why she sought him out, though he had a small inkling. Based on his charisma revelation, he had a feeling that she was at the bottom of the social hierarchy. No one seemed to look at her while she looked at everyone. Often with multiple eyes, which seemed to be a boon in this society. The biggest hint he felt was that she was the only person in the world who would look at him.
Whatever her reason was, he was glad for it. It made his days less lonely and it accelerated his language acquisition speed. Besides, he simply enjoyed her company.
On the second day, Dante found a broken haft of a spear about an arm's length long buried in the rubble. This will do. He set it aside and continued about his work until he saw Svōl taking a break. This did not happen very often, perhaps only once a day and sometimes not even then. So when he saw the man take a seat, he sat across from him.
“Svōl,” he stated and then pointed at the large knife that was eternally on the soldier's hip. “Can I use the ‘Laus’?” He mimed drawing a knife and then grabbed the broken spear shaft, and then made whittling motions.
He received a considering look and Dante could almost see the gears turning in the man's head. Just as he was beginning to regret asking the question, Svōl began rummaging around in the knapsack that he always brought with him. The man found something in it and tossed it to him.
He caught it and saw that it was another knife, though smaller. Indeed, when he drew the blade he found that it was less than three inches long. Even so, Dante was relieved that Svōl was willing to extend even this amount of trust.
“Thank you.”
Letting the spear shaft rest against one leg, Dante began whittling at it with long strokes facing away from his body. He began with a small bowl shape, though he made the outer edges overhang the depression. After he had finished that, he carved a long handle and then smoothed out the edges. When he was done, he was left with a crude ladle with a handle about a foot long.
It might not be pretty, but it will work.
When Dante attempted to pass the knife back to Svōl, the man simply pushed it back to him. That more than anything perked him up. It hadn’t been lost on Dante that he had not been passed a weapon during his entire time here. Just about everyone else carried them so he stood out. Even though this knife was not practical to use as a weapon, it was still progress.
That night, during dinner, he used his ladle for the first time. It was the recipient of many curious looks, but Dante did not care that it worked. Through a combination of using his ability charges and then eating during the cooldown with the ladle, he was almost able to eat like a normal person again.
At least until the ability leveled. It was only a matter of time as it was constantly working, pushing aside rain as he worked and not letting any dust touch him.
Things were just beginning to feel … well not normal but perhaps consistent. Dante was at least making progress in just about every area. So when he went to bed on the fourth night, it was with a subtle sense of satisfaction. Despite all the death and violence around him, he was getting better.
His dedication was rewarded on the third day, when he was met with a notification upon waking.
+1 to strength.
Unlike the others, no strange sensation followed this one. Though, he had to wonder if that was because he had increased it ‘naturally’. Whatever the case, it was clear that he had gotten stronger. When he had to remove rubble that was plugging the trench he was able to move larger pieces.
In the middle of the fourth night however, he awoke to a tremor passing through barracks along with a not insignificant amount of dust falling from the ceiling. Shouted orders soon followed and the room became a mess of activity.