My mother, my only surviving parent who I have adored since the moment the word "adore" entered my childish dictionary, has been bitten by a kuvarna. It was an accident which I was indirectly responsible for and has been driving me to climb walls, literally, in the last three days. And only her previously hidden (from me) skill as a 2nd stage unveiler prevented her from becoming my second deceased parent. She still has a high probability of being overcome with seizures at any time. Which is why I am out on the hunt, desperately trying to trap one of my most detested critters on this planet.
Perichyalis are nasty. Truly... I've been up close and personal with more than a few and I know! First, they stink! Second, they look like something which should never exist. If I had only two creatures to pick as those that would raise every last one of my gag and run instincts, I would choose rats and snakes. And if you can imagine (even though the most colourful imagination will not come close) a rancid combination of the two that is sure to drive every two legged creature screaming, well... there you have it: the perichyali. They are actually a mad genius mage's experiment gone wrong - and to make the mistake even more egregious: they are fertile, their offspring tend to grow bigger and nastier with each generation, and they're even more enthusiastic about mating than rabbits! And the stupid magus who created them made them the only bearers of the kuvarna anti-venom as this is something that can only be produced through "biological processes" (I'm NOT thinking about what that means... I absolutely refuse to). So, I guess it's a good thing they reproduce so much. You see, the kuvarnas have the same mating instinctts as well. Kuvarnas - another shiver inducing critter to share breathing space with us humans - are snakes: reprehensible, excessively poisonous, highly fertile, disgustingly well camouflaged snakes. And they're tiny! They get into everything if you're not careful. And if you scare them, which most sane people do their best to avoid, they bite. Otherwise, they attack very rarely. When they do bite something, or someone, the venom ejection from their glands occurs at such a high rate of acceleration, that it causes the kuvarna to suffocate to death. The venom itself spreads rapidly through the victim's system, causing fatal seizures in the poor "bitee" within minutes.
I love rooftops. They form a whole separate kingdom, all mine... I have been known to be possessed by various actors, warriors, and comedians when I am ruling my kingdom of one there. Yes, I was a lonely child. No, I was not a sad, lonely child. I was happy. I had my mother, and her constant chatter, to keep me all the company I needed. I am decidedly no longer a child. I had a very rude awakening into adult-hood when my mother was bitten. And ever since then, whenever the sun is at the horizon, and putting out strong orange rays, I make my way to my kingdom. No matter that the rooftops are not the same as those in my childhood neighbourhood, they are still mine. No matter that the neighbourhood of the day keeps changing, it is still known to me. The rooftops in the various chainyas of the Darur nation show no individuality. They all are built at a slight angle, facing the nearest street, to facilitate washing the constant rain into efficiently gridded gutters that are then sanitized and redirected to the water tanks for human use. They are all colourfully attired in clay tiles to keep the view interesting for the birds. I am not joking. The birds were considered very important at the time of initial building. They are no longer given much importance, but the colour remains, much to my satisfaction. They used to be highly used for the poorer pedestrians. No more is that the case. No creature of the two-legged variety is present to chip any pleasure out of my experience. My own guilt does it all by itself.
My focus these last few days has been in pursuing the perichyali to get the anti-venom. The birds and the rodents find the colourful roofs amusing to play in. Hunting them was the reason I started my forays into the rooftop world. Now that experience is coming in very useful, if not downright essential. Mum can keep herself mobile by herself, using her healing abilities. But to get rid of the kuvarna venom jealously glutting her veins, she needs to ingest a certain dosage of fresh anti-venom each day over the course of seven or eight days, depending on how bad her condition is. This is the only way she can get rid of the pain. And the only way I can stand being with her is knowing that I can help reducing that pain. Constantly beating yourself up, even for just three or so days, leaves marks. Sometimes, I look into the mirror and wonder where the bruises are to reflect how I feel. But I digress, thanks to my miserable guilt.
I was successful in trapping a perichyali each day over the last three days. But, it looked as though my luck was running out, or this new neighbourhood we were in was way too clean for the disgusting rodents. Happy residents... to be able to afford such a neighbourhood. I wonder how we are able to afford it actually. Rambling thoughts, they reflect the confused state of my being. I had found the trail of one measly perichyali about two quarter-talis ago. I had been painstakingly marking my backtrail with a fluorescing white paste that would wash off over the course of a day (one of my rigorous practices after getting completely lost in my early days of roof walking).
The perichyali trail is distinctive: two deep outer claw scritches with six light claw scritches between for each of the two hind feet, and a blurry pad mark for each of the two front paws. And then there's the curvy line of shined tiles from dragging its belly - I get massively freaked out by that, enough to make me have to grit my teeth each time I go perichyali chasing. Don't get me wrong, once you get past all that, if you don't need the venom, the flesh is still a reason to chase the things. It's a delicacy, fraught with flavors, from whatever it ingests (again, not territory I will venture into). But it is the one living creature that I would rather see cut and dressed on my plate rather than out in the open on its four feet and slithering belly. Ugh.
The trail had been very clear so far, not a moment of confusion. I had reached the edge of a temple roof of purple and red tiles (they're colour-blind, the priests... and I don't know the rationale behind requiring all Ravali the Green's temples to have purple and red tiles, so please don't ask. I've never felt the need to stop one of her mad priests in the middle of the streets to pose my question, "why not green?", and I won't be doing so in any of my more rational futures). And from the next roof on, the scritches were no longer visible. I was amazed. There was no perichyali corpse in the dust between the temple and the next house, no sign of one having been moved. Perichyalis cannot fly or magically disappear. The tracks were fresh, there was no-one else on the roof tops. Where had it gone?
Perichyalis are nasty. Truly... I've been up close and personal with more than a few and I know! First, they stink! Second, they look like something which should never exist. If I had only two creatures to pick as those that would raise every last one of my gag and run instincts, I would choose rats and snakes. And if you can imagine (even though the most colourful imagination will not come close) a rancid combination of the two that is sure to drive every two legged creature screaming, well... there you have it: the perichyali. They are actually a mad genius mage's experiment gone wrong - and to make the mistake even more egregious: they are fertile, their offspring tend to grow bigger and nastier with each generation, and they're even more enthusiastic about mating than rabbits! And the stupid magus who created them made them the only bearers of the kuvarna anti-venom as this is something that can only be produced through "biological processes" (I'm NOT thinking about what that means... I absolutely refuse to). So, I guess it's a good thing they reproduce so much. You see, the kuvarnas have the same mating instinctts as well. Kuvarnas - another shiver inducing critter to share breathing space with us humans - are snakes: reprehensible, excessively poisonous, highly fertile, disgustingly well camouflaged snakes. And they're tiny! They get into everything if you're not careful. And if you scare them, which most sane people do their best to avoid, they bite. Otherwise, they attack very rarely. When they do bite something, or someone, the venom ejection from their glands occurs at such a high rate of acceleration, that it causes the kuvarna to suffocate to death. The venom itself spreads rapidly through the victim's system, causing fatal seizures in the poor "bitee" within minutes.
I love rooftops. They form a whole separate kingdom, all mine... I have been known to be possessed by various actors, warriors, and comedians when I am ruling my kingdom of one there. Yes, I was a lonely child. No, I was not a sad, lonely child. I was happy. I had my mother, and her constant chatter, to keep me all the company I needed. I am decidedly no longer a child. I had a very rude awakening into adult-hood when my mother was bitten. And ever since then, whenever the sun is at the horizon, and putting out strong orange rays, I make my way to my kingdom. No matter that the rooftops are not the same as those in my childhood neighbourhood, they are still mine. No matter that the neighbourhood of the day keeps changing, it is still known to me. The rooftops in the various chainyas of the Darur nation show no individuality. They all are built at a slight angle, facing the nearest street, to facilitate washing the constant rain into efficiently gridded gutters that are then sanitized and redirected to the water tanks for human use. They are all colourfully attired in clay tiles to keep the view interesting for the birds. I am not joking. The birds were considered very important at the time of initial building. They are no longer given much importance, but the colour remains, much to my satisfaction. They used to be highly used for the poorer pedestrians. No more is that the case. No creature of the two-legged variety is present to chip any pleasure out of my experience. My own guilt does it all by itself.
My focus these last few days has been in pursuing the perichyali to get the anti-venom. The birds and the rodents find the colourful roofs amusing to play in. Hunting them was the reason I started my forays into the rooftop world. Now that experience is coming in very useful, if not downright essential. Mum can keep herself mobile by herself, using her healing abilities. But to get rid of the kuvarna venom jealously glutting her veins, she needs to ingest a certain dosage of fresh anti-venom each day over the course of seven or eight days, depending on how bad her condition is. This is the only way she can get rid of the pain. And the only way I can stand being with her is knowing that I can help reducing that pain. Constantly beating yourself up, even for just three or so days, leaves marks. Sometimes, I look into the mirror and wonder where the bruises are to reflect how I feel. But I digress, thanks to my miserable guilt.
I was successful in trapping a perichyali each day over the last three days. But, it looked as though my luck was running out, or this new neighbourhood we were in was way too clean for the disgusting rodents. Happy residents... to be able to afford such a neighbourhood. I wonder how we are able to afford it actually. Rambling thoughts, they reflect the confused state of my being. I had found the trail of one measly perichyali about two quarter-talis ago. I had been painstakingly marking my backtrail with a fluorescing white paste that would wash off over the course of a day (one of my rigorous practices after getting completely lost in my early days of roof walking).
The perichyali trail is distinctive: two deep outer claw scritches with six light claw scritches between for each of the two hind feet, and a blurry pad mark for each of the two front paws. And then there's the curvy line of shined tiles from dragging its belly - I get massively freaked out by that, enough to make me have to grit my teeth each time I go perichyali chasing. Don't get me wrong, once you get past all that, if you don't need the venom, the flesh is still a reason to chase the things. It's a delicacy, fraught with flavors, from whatever it ingests (again, not territory I will venture into). But it is the one living creature that I would rather see cut and dressed on my plate rather than out in the open on its four feet and slithering belly. Ugh.
The trail had been very clear so far, not a moment of confusion. I had reached the edge of a temple roof of purple and red tiles (they're colour-blind, the priests... and I don't know the rationale behind requiring all Ravali the Green's temples to have purple and red tiles, so please don't ask. I've never felt the need to stop one of her mad priests in the middle of the streets to pose my question, "why not green?", and I won't be doing so in any of my more rational futures). And from the next roof on, the scritches were no longer visible. I was amazed. There was no perichyali corpse in the dust between the temple and the next house, no sign of one having been moved. Perichyalis cannot fly or magically disappear. The tracks were fresh, there was no-one else on the roof tops. Where had it gone?
