Rouge an Blanc (For Cherribo)

[swordandsandle]

In 1603 Samuel de Champlain was part of a expedition from France that travelled into the St. Lawrence River. In 1608, he returned as head of an exploration party and founded Quebec City with the intention of making the area part of the French colonial empire. Champlain's Habitation de Quebec, built as a permanent fur trading outpost, was where he would forge a trading, and ultimately a military alliance, with the Algonquin and Huron nations. Natives traded their furs for many French goods such as metal objects, guns, alcohol, and clothing.

Now, in 1610, one resident of this city was Cana Sanxay. The second son of a minor landed knight, his future had looked like a rather dim prospect with little chance a decent marriage. However, like many other second sons, he had hoped for a path to his own wealth, a peice of land or a workhouse to call his own. That is why, a year ago, he had approched his father and asked, in lue of his portion of the estate, that he would pay for passage to the New World. Through reliuctant, his father had agreed, but at times like this Cana sometimes wished he haden't.

His genetic inheritance was of good blood, actually direct from the female line of Augustis Ceasar if the geneology could be beleived. He stood slightly over six foot, with a reagal bearing and and certain hardness of the hair and eyes. However, as he learned to his dismay, good blood ment little on this side of the ocean. He'd been struggling since day one to keep body and soul together, and had barely been sucessful.

Now, however, he had his chance. He was dressed in hunting leathers, stained slightly dark from the dirt and wet growth, a mucket and powder horn slung over his back. All in all, he looked like the other settlers here, although perhaps his teeth where whiter. He'd worked his way acrss the game trails for days now, the racid taste of undercooked rabbit and beaver still filling his mouth. If the stuffed-shirt of a governer was correct, the village shoulden't be that much farther. It was a village of redskins, true; not exactly the company one of his station would expect, but there men where told to be expert hunters and fishermen, while their woman weren't bad to look at ethier. It was his job to meet them, get to know them, and, well, learn to actually communicate with them.

And, of course, if he failed, he wasen't supposed to come back at all.

 

[Cherribo]

Aiyana shielded her eyes against the sun, squinting as she stood outside. Her dark, slightly-knotted hair trailed down her back, and she tutted as she dragged slender fingers through it, trying to untangle the worst of it. It's what you got for hunting all night, she thought grimly, walking through the village and avoiding the stares of the other women. They all knew she sneaked out to help the men with their hunting, but it was a little taboo for her not to be resting the night to then be fully ready to help the women with their duties.

But she had not beared children and had not had her hand taken either; their village was not especially large and it had turned out that there was no one left for her when she became of age to settle down. If she had really wanted to, she could of travelled to one of their neighbouring villages only a few miles away, but in all truths she was relieved she did not have to take part in all that bother. The traditions and rituals of her people may be dying out in their country, but her village held strong. The only reason they took a blind eye to her shirking her woman duties and taking part in the hunt was because they were lacking the men to do it instead of her.

Dressed only in a thin shift, which was worn and ripped in places, she stood at the small river and splashed her face with the cool water. Her heavy-lidded, dark-brown eyes blinked rapidly to rid of the water droplets clinging to her lashes, and she stood and wiped water over her arms and legs too.

It was then she spotted the stranger in the distance.

 

[swordandsandle]

He pressed a percularly low-lying branch away, bending over slightly to get under before he let is snap back with a plesent rustle. He haden't had the pleasure of enjoying raw wilderness back in France; they where into more civilized pleasures. Still, after a year of living in this virgin land, he'd started to grow fond of the trees, the beasts, the sheer silence of the rural world. He took in a deepr breath off the chrisp clean air, his dirty leathers rising and falling with his chest. It was the simple goodness of Eden made anew, that the gracious Lord had been so kind to give His people. Perhaps... it wasen't so bad after all.

He could see the light breaking through the treeline farther ahead, the soft babble of running water tickled his ears. He stood straght, pausing for a moment to straghten the bulky firearm across his back, before continuing to slog on. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed a slight movement, a chipmunk scurrying up a tree. And, for some reason, that made him smile.

The sunlight danced through the swaing leaves, the light glinting over his musket head as he approched the end of the woods. Yet he felt something. Something, unatural. It made him feel slightly queezy, his arm slund back to lift his gun at the first sign of trouble, as he opened the final layer of growth and entering a small clearing. Rubbing his eyes with his free hand, he let the sun do its course before he focused, seeing the crystal waters of the pure forest stream before him. He lifted his head to scan the surrondings, clearly nothing was amiss here. Then, at the far left of his veiw, he saw her.

His sence of properity was shocked by what he was seeing. A meer woman, her dress torn practically to shreds and stained with what appeared to be blood, was washing herself in plan veiw of whomever should come along. His noise wrinkled at the thought, an urge to do something. Walking soildly and with a purpose, he took his hand from the but of his musket and started walking towards her, staring quizically the entire time.

"Bonjuer Mada," he started to yell when he'd grown close enough, only to stop himself short when he realized whe wasen't going to speak French. Insteed, he simply choose to wave, her eyes attracted to him from the noise, before beckoning to her with his arms, the no nonsence attitude of somebody with a strong goal showing itself in his movements

 

[Cherribo]

"Bonjour mada!"

What..? Oh. One of them. Her nose wrinkled in annoyance and she turned away from the stranger, shaking her hands to rid of most of the water. She personally didn't care for the people calling themselves 'civilised'. Aiyana had learnt a little of their words, but only enough so she could recognise when they were referring or talking to her. It'd been a few months since they had bothered to travel out to find them once again.

It seemed it was her bad luck they'd found her first; now she had no choice but to lead this man back and make stilted, awkward conversation, give them information that they weirdly found 'exciting, interesting', and then hopefully bore him to tears with their worst cooked food until he finally tired of their ways and left.

Deciding that ignoring him would only make this visitation worse, she sighed and turned around, smiling shyly and copying his wave, so he knew she had seen him. As he reached closer to her, she bowed her head politely and welcomed him in her native tongue, knowing he at the very least would recognise a greeting.

 

[swordandsandle]

The woman we beconing to him, that much was obvious. Suddenly, many questions started to run through his mind. How would they communicate? Whould they be freindly? What was with this woman. He slowly approched her, as she walked towards him the same, and the two of them just stood their for a breif, akward moment, staring into eachother's faces.

Then she spoke. Granted, she could have been calling him a sandwhich for all he knew, but concidering the way she bowed to him, leting fall a rather nessicery bit of fabirc that kept a bit of flesh hidden where it should be, she was obviously giving him a greeting of some sort. Out of old habit, he reached up to tip his hat to her, only to realize he diden't have one. Racoon skin just rubbed his scalp the wrong way. Not wanting to look like a fool, he let the action flow into a pantomime, hoping she would get the message.

"You live here?" he asked in Huron, hoping she would know the langue of that tribe, at least. It would surprise her if she diden't; they where a major presence in this area. "I come to meet you."

 

[Cherribo]

He could speak Huron? That was more of an effort than most, but it was like speaking Chinese to a Japanese person in this case. Luckily for him, she knew more Huron than French, and smiled a little easier as she replied.

"I guessed." she said simply, with a shrug of her tanned shoulders. "I'll take you to the main village. They tell you more than I can about our lives."

With a quick glance up and down his body, she turned and walked away slowly, making sure to go at a pace that he could follow. Someone else could deal with this Huron-speaking stranger. She did not have the time or patience for an annoyance like this.

 

[swordandsandle]

He silently gave thanks to the Lord that he'd seen it fit for Huron to be taught to the new settlers of Quebec. The smile on her face was, gentle, and he felt the need to return it in kind, showing that his teeth where indeed in better condition then any other colonist in the area. It was something he took pride in; very, very little pride.

"Very greatful, madame." he nodded his head lightly, almost inperseptivly. " The French Empire thanks you as well." It was a very akward sounding phrase, only recently tacked onto the native tounge. However, it was more then enough to fill him with a slight sence of national pride.

They stood for a few more moments, studying each other for any hint of something else. "Well," he shuffled his foot after a few moments of stillness. "Lead the way"

 

[Cherribo]

Leading him back to her village, she rolled her eyes at the children there giggled and followed them, jabbering between themselves about the newcomer. It seemed only yesterday they had been plagued with these strangers. Apparently it'd been longer than she'd thought.

"Aiyana. Who is this?" a woman asked, squinting up at her as she stitched some clothing outside her home, crosslegged on the floor. Aiyana shrugged in response.

"Outsider." she replied, making sure to put across her annoyance at this stranger tagging along after her. "Taking him around the village."

 

[swordandsandle]

He stood next to her as they walked along, his shadow peeking over her head as they went. These natives really where small, he thought as he took a larger step over a small puddle. The open air was a plesent change from the constand woodlands, the sun warming a body tired from days of marching.

It was not a large village they entered, barly larger then a hamlet really. There where a few scattered longhouses, some roasting fires, a pile of charcoal and a tanning rack, but that was about it. A few small children roamed the dirt, smiling and laughing and speaking in a langue he could not understand. It made him feel like an aliean here, the attention he was getting. It was something he'd never had to feel before; he diden't like it.

"I don't appricate the tone," he said to her. French, their langue, or even the Bushmen the Portugese kept talking about, annoyance had the same tone in all of them. "I'm here as a represenative of His Majesty, Louis XII, King of France and Canada, and you will treat me as such."

 

[Cherribo]

She turned to him, her thin eyebrows raised. Was he trying to defend his presence here? Arrogant bastard.

"Thank you for your visit." she said in rough French, not bothering to figure out exactly what he had said. "You follow. You learn. You leave. Yes?"

If he found her insulting he could find someone else to give him the grand tour of their living places. She found him too rude to deal with anyway. Not a bad looker though. Shame he was from civilisation and acted as such as well.

 

[swordandsandle]

So, the woman was intrested in what he had to say? He cringed slightly in disgust at the grutal sounds she tried to pass off as French, tempted for a moment to speak back. However, his better judgement took control, and he kept himself down.

"All I am asking," his hands twidled behind his back, staring straght into her face as if to dare her. "Is that you show me the respect a diplomat deserves. Back in Europe, that usually involves showing them a degree of acceptance. You'll be seeing alot of me, so I expect that will eventually be easier, no?"

What was with this woman? Diden't she know the basic rules of behavior, how woman where supposed to act? If he wasen't under orders...

 

[Cherribo]

She could feel his annoyance and smiled to herself smugly. So, this guy was as impatience as herself. If he wanted to tag around, he'd have to get used to her behaviour...that being, she would not put up with his.

"Of course, sir." she said, making sure her accent was inbetween obedient respect and downright sarcasm. Bowing her head again, she decided she'd be the one to take him on this tour after all.

"Follow me. This is where we usually repair our clothes." she nodded, towards piles of clothing which were used as spare parts, three women sat chattering and sewing in the midst of the dusty clothing.