Theophany

Reaper heard people whispering. "Who... they..." "Must leave!" "... Nowhere... go?" "Can't... too..."

He stirred.

The whispering stopped. Reaper groaned. His lids felt like they were plastered shut, but he still managed to ever so slightly let light in his tired eyes. It took a while for his vision to focus, and his mouth felt rusty as he coughed.

There were two women in the room, one an old crone and the other slightly younger. They were both dressed in what looked like animal hides. The old lady, with her white hair secured in a bun on her head, looked at him with disdain, clutching a bone white walking stick. The other one, a matronly plump woman, slowly offered him a wooden bowl with liquid in it.

"Drink. It will make you feel better," the woman's voice was kind, but her eyes and facial expressions told Reaper that she was wary.

He took the bowl with a shaky hand, but did not drink. Instead, he asked, "Where... where am I?"

The older woman replied, "Well, you're in a house. And just as soon as you drink that and get healthy, you and your kind can go on your way."

There was real malice from the older woman, but the liquid showed no traces of poison. At least, not the ones Reaper knew of. So they were alive then. Better than alive, they had found people. He drank. After all, if they were trying to kill him, they would have done it sooner.

The old crone, now standing next to the kinder woman was giving him a cold, hard look as if a stench emanated from him that would swallow them all whole. Scoffing, she left the tent.

"Not very personable, is she?" Reaper said, making sure the old woman was gone.

"Well, that was Lena, a respectable elder and she has honest reasons for it. I am Elsa. You are in our village." The plump lady smiled like a mother, "Now tell me who you are. What do you want? Why have you crossed the desert?" She stared hard at his eyes.

"Elsa. I'm-" he paused. Would the implications of his name matter? He hoped not. "My name... is Reaper."

She replied with another kind smile, "Reaper, huh. Is that really your name?"

Well, he thought. His parents named him with the old phase 'reap what you sow' in mind. After the academy though and after some prominent jobs, his name meant more of the Grim Reaper line of explanation. Of course, he only mentioned the first part to Elsa.

He continued, realizing that whatever he said needed to line up with the others, who may have woken up before him. "The base where the others are from was attacked by nighties. We barely escaped and ended up needing to cross the desert..." He trailed off, while simultaneously trying to analyze his new surroundings.

It was a rustic looking place. The building he was in was smallish and made with what seemed like clay bricks brought together by something sticky. The furniture seemed like the major components were bone and hide, adorned here and there by beads and cloth. It was clear to him that they were still relatively near the desert, but the inside of the house was kept inexplicably cooler. She had mentioned it was a village, so he knew that there were more of them and that their lives were comfortable enough to ensure the survival even of mean, old crones.

Elsa seemed to read his mind, "One of your comrades in Lena's house, a ... spirited... young lady said something of the sort as well. You seem more calm than her."

That explained a lot to Reaper. That spirited young lady was probably Rain in all her stubborn, rude and unrefined glory. Which would explain why the old lady's impression of the group as a whole was stubborn, rude and unrefined as well. Still, as much as he hated to admit it, he felt a sense of relief to hear she was alright.

"I wish you could see the rest of our beautiful village, but you and your comrades are in a trial of sorts. The hearing will be set, they said, the morning after the last of you have woken up. You... you are the last one... Also," She added, turning very serious for the first time, "You need to prepare."