[1724] – Y07.224 – A Festival In Our Hearts IV

“Oh? You think you are so tough?” the amber eyed girl asked.

“Yes.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yes.”

“You know what?”

“What?”

“It is also annoying when you are right, papo.”

“Of course.”

“Of coas.”

The little glared up towards her uncle, who stared down at her in return, and as the two held one another’s gazes.

“I will chase you,” Jurot warned.

Jirot gasped. “You cannot do that.”

“I can.”

Jirot pouted. “You are reall-,”

Jurot’s hand blurred through the air and poked Jirot’s nose. “I will have to tell your mother if you say that word.”

“Papo, I ask for mercy, for I am just a little girl, so innocent, and I cause no tr-,” Jirot’s jaw tensed up, and so did Jurot’s, as the two did their best not to laugh. “Papo! You know I love you?”

“I do.”

“Good!” Jirot hugged her uncle, and then motioned a hand for her brother to hug him too, and then for Virot, and then for Jitool, and finally, Damrot, who pouted for he was last, and yet his father lifted him up, and the boy flushed, the two embracing one another, for though he was last, the boy’s embrace was longest. “Papo, you must pick up Virot too, since you are so strong.”

“Okay.”

“Of-,” Jirot began, blinking, for he hadn’t replied in the way she had expected, though it was still an Iyrmanly way, so she forgave him, of coas, of coas.

Jurot held the pair within his arms, all the while he explored the festival with his nieces and nephews, each excitedly making him pick up things, to reveal his great strength to them. Some things, like large empty barrels were easiest, and impressed them so much, compared to certain rocks which were as big as they, but not as big as the barrels, but equally as heavy to each of the children.

“Papo…” Karot’s eyes stared up at Jurot, whose ears turned red.

The pair of twins moved as one, as they made their way towards a particular area, though no longer were the Aswadians cooking the food, so they eyed up the various food the Iyrmen had on offer. It was a good thing the Iyrmen had explained their festivals to them, as well as the fact all the food was granted to them, by right of being within the Iyr, a right afforded to them, as well as to Iyrmen.

‘In Aswadasad, your Shen will throws piles of gold to you, to show them how much wealth his family possesses,’ Malfev had mused, brushing his hand through his beard. ‘In the Iyr, we shall not accept your gold, for that is how much we possess.’

‘Is the Iyr so wealthy?’ the twins wondered, as they wandered, though as they considered the steel the Iyrmen possessed, for many were forged of simple steel, but many possessed steel forged of finer steels, and many of them, they assumed, possessed not just simple, if fine, steel.

‘Master, perhaps within the Iyr, even you find it difficult…’

As the music swept across the Front Iyr, and the Iyrmen stripped, revealing their great physiques, and as they assaulted one another, some with fists, others with their grappling, the screams of a girl filled the air, and as she screamed, Afraz turned towards the girl’s nephew, who peeked up towards him.

“I can tell you are the youngest, for you smile as though you have been spoiled everyday,” Afraz accused, and as the boy’s eyes met him, his low voice tickling those leaf shaped ears, the boy smiled, squealing guiltily, and he turned his head to retreat to his greatmother, who held him within her lap, brushing along his cheek with a tender hand.

“He is spoiled, our little, Xarot, but he should be, for he is such a sweet, kind boy, aren’t you?” Gangak asked, and the boy squealed again, cackling, revealing just whose brother he was, and as he reached up to grab his greatmother’s wrists, trying to wrestle her. “Oh? You are such a little brat, my little Xagak.”

“Bat!” Xarot cackled.

Gangak motioned with her fingers in a particular way, and the boy cackled, using his hand to repeat the action, which meant laughter, and the boy cackled further. Gangak then made another hand sign.

“No!” Xarot cackled.

“No?” Gangak made the sign once more, and the boy squealed, turning his head, but she leaned in to kiss his cheek, and the boy returned a kiss upon her, signing the word once more, and he kissed her cheek once more, cackling.

“What does it mean?”

“Kiss.” Gangak made the motion once more, and the boy leaned in to kiss his greatmother’s cheek, grasping her collar tightly, as if trapping her, and as she cradled him, she placed a hand upon his bottom. “Poopoo?”

The boy blinked. He cackled once more. “Poopoo! Nano! Poopoo!”

Gangak stood, taking the boy away, who pooped so well, for he was afforded such a right within the Iyr.

It was in this Iyr, many were afforded to much.

Vadim chewed on a particular twig, and once it had become frayed, he brushed along his teeth, for in the afternoon, he found it best to possess a clean mouth, and after eating such food, with such spice, he did not wish to walk about with such a mouth, the kind that would be dirty, like one who spoke ill of their elders. So many of his elders had often told him of such virtues and vices.

Hakam, too, had chewed on a teethleaf, and once it had burned his teeth and gums, he rinsed his mouth with the Iyr’s teethwater, gargling lightly, the icy cold spreading through his mouth. He winced slightly, and returned to his grandfather, brewing the tea for him, as a shadow suddenly descended upon him.

Within the shadow’s arms, a girl stared out, one who had caused great trouble, when she had called for more fighting, more blood, this grandniece of his.

“Hello,” Lanarot called, tucked against Malfev’s side.

“Hello,” Hakam replied, with the understanding the girl had long given up trying to struggle.

“It is said I was causing trouble.”

“Yes? You are Jirot’s aunt.”

The girl flushed. “Of coas.”

“Of coas,” Hakam agreed.

Malfev closed his eyes, trying not to laugh. Indeed, she was her niece’s aunt, after all. However, she had said certain words she shouldn’t have…

‘No blood? No blood? I thought this was the Iyr!’

Gangak’s head had snapped towards the girl, covering little Xarot’s innocent ears, and so she had to be disciplined, for though she was right, it was still a festival.

PATREON FOR 30+ CHAPTERS!

Lanarot truly is a Rot.