Kharaqiq

Nathaniel Salem comfortably put in the reading chair - leaning on one of its arms. Reading - smoking from his ornate pipe, still, a glass and a nigh-empty bottle of red wine by the chair's foot.
Cheche Dotharl might be seen, having entered the estate at some point or another. She fumbles up the stairs blindly. While she has had many opportunities to practice, this time there is a package of some sort held in her hands which makes maneuvering more difficult. She nearly trips, missing a step, but manages to balance with it held above her head. With a sigh of relief, she continues her climb to the second floor.
Cheche Dotharl sniffs towards a direction, faint eyes searching the likely darkness she sees. "Father Salem?"
Nathaniel Salem: "The one and only," from the reading nook. There's humor in his tone, though, upon noticing Cheche's arrival, he extinguishes the smoking pipe, and leaves it to rest somewhere, the book he was reading over a knee.
Nathaniel Salem: "Ten paces forward, fifteen on your right. Follow the railing."
Nathaniel Salem gestures vaguely before leaning back in his seat after drinking - he lowers the glass on the floor once again in half a sigh.
Cheche Dotharl 's expression brightens a little as she hears his voice, her tail flicking against her leg behind her. Eyes looking down out of habit, she counts under her breath the number of steps she has to take. One, two three... then to the right. She mouths 'fifteen' around the moment she reaches him, straightening up with a satisfied nod.
Nathaniel Salem: "Were you looking for me?" He turns the book back in his hands, keeping it open, as if about to resume his lecture soon enough. "What do you need, love?"
Cheche Dotharl nods. "Yes, but I can come another time if you are busy." She deliberates how to speak of the next part, apparently struggling despite her practice. "-- I do not, need anything per say..."
Nathaniel Salem: "No, merely celebrating." He pauses. "No needs. Wants perhaps, then?"
Cheche Dotharl: "Celebrating?" She cants her head with mild curiosity before nodding. "Yes. You enjoy games-- yes? Sometimes?"
Nathaniel Salem: "Ul'dah has approved of my formal demand to lead the expedition I told you about. So, yes. Celebrating." He moves on. "Games?"
Nathaniel Salem: "What are we playing?" Airily.
Cheche Dotharl: "Ah-- this is good." She seems to brighten at the prospect, at the very least understanding it was important to him. She finally holds the parcel out towards him-- a board game of some sort. "It is played often in the Steppes. It is called Kharaqiq."
Nathaniel Salem: "Ah, I do remember you mentioning it. It is not unlike Eorzean draughts and chess, yes?"
Nathaniel Salem: "Come closer. Let me see." He bookmarks the tome with a ribbon, then puts it by his side.
Cheche Dotharl nods. "-- yes. I used to play it with the Udgan at home." She approaches with his prompting, stopping when she feels his hands upon the container. Making sure he has a good grip upon it, she lets it go to sit upon the floor next to his chair. The board is somewhat worn-- compact enough to be taken around in travel. The outer box is a lot more damaged than the inside, indicating that it's been some time since it's seen use. Even so, it's well-taken care of and cleaned.
Nathaniel Salem helps her, a gentle hand on her forearm to avoid her bumping into the chair proper. He frees her of her burden, and pushes the board open to reveal its content, a smile in his tone. "It is beautiful. Did you always have it?"
Cheche Dotharl nods. "It was for-- I suppose in Eorzean terms, for one of my namesdays. My coming of age." There is a fond look in her dim eyes as she props herself up somewhat. "The notches and patterns-- my father carved them himself. He taught me how to afterwards."
Nathaniel Salem passes a hand over the board, and she might hear him appraising the object - taking his time, slow and steady in his movement. "A beautiful gift. Both the board and the education that came with it. But you will have to teach me how to play."
Cheche Dotharl smiles. "That was the intention, yes." She lets him study it for a few more moments before reaching out, nodding to him to receive permission before searching for certain shapes. "Just like chess-- from what I understand, there are different 'roles' for each piece. This is the noyan-- for example. The lord."
Cheche Dotharl picks up another. "These are the kuu-- or the pawns. The foot soldiers."
Random! You roll a 915.

Cheche Dotharl 's eyes are wide while she thoughtfully touches the board to account for all the pieces. With a short, rare laugh she leans back. "-- it seems you have won, Father Salem. As one would say-- well played."
Nathaniel Salem would listen - attentively. His sunny demeanor, rare, prompting him to joke, or thank Cheche for her patience. He would sometimes ask questions about subtleties - move types, possible outcomes, and the like -- pausing to drink, or listen. Just like that, a few games were played - and in quality of fast or attentive learner... "I did win, though I believe it beginner's luck."
Cheche Dotharl shakes her head with a chuckle. "Even so, it was quick for a beginner. According to the old xaelan sayings, you would make a good commander. Or perhaps even a khatuun."
Nathaniel Salem: "This is not the first time you say that, Cheche. Continue, and I will begin to believe it. Though this commander will stop for tonight, if you'll allow it."
Cheche Dotharl tilts her head. "Then I must really mean it." She accepts his suggestion, carefully placing all the pieces back to where they belong. Her fingers would linger to ensure she has the right patterns before arranging them.
Nathaniel Salem: "Be careful. I was told my ego is voracious, and that my spirit never quite satiated with this kind of speech. I might demand more from you," he states with a hint of bitterness, though looks elsewhere, calm settling in. He leans in the seat, running fingers through his bangs, quiet for a little while - just like that.
Nathaniel Salem: "How are you feeling?"
Cheche Dotharl seems to catch his tone, her head having a particular cant to it as she clicks the container shut. Though usually she would withdraw and feign ignorance, for once she hesitates-- her eyes rolling briefly with thought. At his question she would turn to look towards him again, lips ajar while she thinks. "-- I have been well." Well enough, at least. The hesitation remains, at least until her fingers gently rest upon his arm. "What of you?"
Nathaniel Salem opens his eyes when contact is initiated - he pauses as he notices, she might hear him shifting, perhaps to look at her. "Exhausted, relieved. Nothing worth discussing now."
Nathaniel Salem: "Thank you for sharing this with me, Cheche. Let us do that again." He puts a hand on hers, solemn.
Cheche Dotharl manages a smile, acceptant of his admittance. "-- of course. I would like that very much. It is... good. To indulge upon things I have left behind."
Cheche Dotharl: "Thank you as well, for making time."
Nathaniel Salem takes her hands, as though he was afraid to lose her in a thought - or seeks to keep her attention. "Have you been actively thinking of what was left behind?"
Nathaniel Salem: "Though I have things to look forward too in Eorzea, my offer to you and my interest in the Dotharli have not died."
Nathaniel Salem: to* )
Cheche Dotharl pauses, though after a thought would return the hold. She idly thumbs at the side of his hand while she thinks. "-- yes and no." There is a soft frown while she considers. "-- but I have been giving some things more thought. Definitely." There is a wry smile to his words, her eyes faintly curved in mixed amusement. "You could visit the Steppes at any time. Without me-- if you really wished to."
Nathaniel Salem stills, a change in tone and physical presence felt - if only in the way he keeps her hand in place. "It is not without you that I am writing this essay we agreed on nearly a turn ago, now."
Nathaniel Salem: "I will ask again." He lets go of her and turns away, bending forward to reach back for his book, left on the floor in favor of the gaming board.
Cheche Dotharl nods. "I understand. What I mean is-- with what I have already taught you, it should be more than enough to traverse the Steppes without trouble." She doesn't press upon it if he doesn't pursue, her hands returning to rest on her lap. There is a silent sort of contemplation, her eyes flickering closed.
Cheche Dotharl: "I had no intention to return. Though you might have already figured as much."
Nathaniel Salem opens the book, lidded eyes passing lines in review with mild interest. He crosses his legs, a free arm over the back of the chair.
Nathaniel Salem: "Things come to change as years pass. What must be done - or undone - for you to change your mind?"
Cheche Dotharl: "Myself, perhaps." Her voice is faint as she speaks of this, open eyes staring far away for a moment. They return to look his way, curved to a weak smile. "-- I do not think I have quite an answer, yet."

Nathaniel Salem emits some manner of frustrated sigh, though does not insist: "...I know. I know. I'm sorry, dear."
Nathaniel Salem: "I just do not think I can publish this paper for as long as we keep away from the Steppes."
Nathaniel Salem: "...Perhaps I'll go without you, though you know me an ambitious man, beyond patience."
Nathaniel Salem reaches out to adjust a few strands of hair on her side, "I'll wait and see. As you will."
Cheche Dotharl shakes her head. "-- there is nothing to be sorry of," she insists, followed by a soft laugh. "Of course. I only hope you do not wait overlong. It feels of a faith--," she paused, closing her eyes as her hair shifted to the side. "-- misplaced."
Nathaniel Salem secures a hand at the back of her head in one of his idle affections, stroking hair down if only for a moment, then leaves her proper. "I will be the judge of that."
Nathaniel Salem: "Unfortunately for you, I /am/ a man of faith."
Nathaniel Salem: "And I have been taught, educated, and pushed to undertake an oath that ensures I keep believing when others do not."
Cheche Dotharl: "Some would argue fortunate," she points out while tugging her legs to her chest. "I, myself. I would say... regardless of which it is, I remain partly envious."
Nathaniel Salem: "...What is there to envy? Nothing you could not become."
Cheche Dotharl shakes her head. "Perhaps. Perhaps...," is all she says. Briefly, her eyes have the glow as if she's about to cry. But she doesn't, and instead shifts to stand. "-- I have taken enough of your time."
Nathaniel Salem: "Where are you going?"
Cheche Dotharl: "But we will play again, yes?"
Nathaniel Salem puts his book down, frowning gradually.
Cheche Dotharl paused, eyes growing slightly wide. She hadn't planned that far. "I...,"
Nathaniel Salem: "...I will let you go if you like."
Nathaniel Salem: "But known that I do not want you to hide. Not from me - and not from my words."
Nathaniel Salem: know that!!!* )
Cheche Dotharl blinks, thoughtful. She turns to face him. "What is there to show? To seek-- to know."
Cheche Dotharl: "I do not have much to offer, if any."
Nathaniel Salem pushes himself up, voice heard above Cheche, now. "Cheche."
Nathaniel Salem: "No matter the words spoken, the encouragement shed, and the affection shared, I can not help you if you do not help yourself." He hovers a hand by her own heart, for emphasis, solemn. "Only you can determine your own worth."
Nathaniel Salem: "It is your duty, as mortal, to make sure to weigh your soul fairly, at all times."
Nathaniel Salem: "Failing to do so will only keep despair close. Do you understand?"
Nathaniel Salem: "...Gods do not take kindly to those who would disrespect their creations. This is true for -- and must be applied -- to the the self."
Nathaniel Salem: THE SELF!!! )
Cheche Dotharl keeps her eyes to him, her hand reaching to take his hand. Though she gives it a warm squeeze, it is returned to his side. "... perhaps, but even so-- it is a despair I would have chosen."
Cheche Dotharl: "If it is what I seek, then is that not enough?"
Nathaniel Salem doesn't hold her hand back in turn, stilling. His voice bears somber undertones: "Then you will have disrespected all that is sacred in life."
Nathaniel Salem: "If it is death you seek, in person and in truth, have the decency to be prompt in it, and not bear those who care about you witness such horror."
Nathaniel Salem removes his hand.
Cheche Dotharl frowns upon that, expression almost mournful. "I tried," she manages, though it's forced as if through a choke. She lowers her gaze, shoulders dropping. "I tried."
Cheche Dotharl: "I am sorry."

Nathaniel Salem is silent for a long why, though he continues, even. Calm. "...Trust those who would only want good for you, Cheche, if you are unable to trust your own perceptions."
Nathaniel Salem: "As one hand would now guide you from one room to another." He adds, more quietly: "'Tis no sin to rely on others. Do you understand?"
Cheche Dotharl stares far away in her own silence for a while. Once he finishes speaking, she finally turns to look to him. "-- what is it that you want for me, Nathaniel? Truly."
Nathaniel Salem: "To shed weights and thoughts that have no place in the body and mind of such a soul."
Nathaniel Salem: "Your place in this world was earned the moment you came out of a mother's womb - alive."
Nathaniel Salem: "It is imperative you understand that, and act in consequence - without hurting yourself."
Nathaniel Salem pauses. The last words were spoken with a measure of pain, emotions ever so subtle in his tone.
Cheche Dotharl 's eyes shift, almost as if she's searching his face despite her blindness. Though slowly, a tentative smile blooms upon her face. "-- you are a cruel man," she finally speaks, her hand gently touching his arm. It falls back to her side. "-- I shall... consider your words."
Nathaniel Salem: "Cruelty teaches." Is all that would come out, deep - something that came from his entrails, something he, judging by his tone, believes in. More than anything else.
Nathaniel Salem: "...You need not spend the rest of the night alone. Let us find you a place to rest."
Cheche Dotharl: "Teaching by example, yes?" There is a wry laugh to that. "All right. Lead the way."