The next morning

A light breeze sighs uneasily through the city of Lapona. The humidity rises heavily as it fills the morning air with mist. If it wasn't for the fading purple hue emanating from the stones along the riverbanks, one would never find their way along the “Y” River, or over the ancient bridges that connected the city's three parts.

Every morning the river stones were wiped clean by the light of day. Waters from the passing currents glide peacefully over the set mosaics of the riverbank, leaving puddles from the receding tide. Birds scavenge the riverbanks spreading their wings at the sight of people as they take flight upon a disturbance.

Alongside the ancient glow of this northern most Ryoken city, an maturing adolescent girl wanders into the fog. Her arms extend keeping her balance along the water line and the purple stones beneath her feet. She wasn't afraid of making a wrong step, as the long boots extending up her thighs would prevent her from getting soaked. The girl walks aimlessly toward the mouth of the river, humming a tune to herself that she still remembered from her childhood. She watches the rising horizon; letting everything slip past her mind. Then it hits her.

“Oh no.”

My casual hurry is interrupted by brief moments of stress. I push my tan-colored hair to the side of my face. I fix the bandanna over the back part of my hair and nearly trip over my own feet.

My fingers run through the lightness of my weeping bangs, until they find themselves pulled to the beginnings of my small ponytail behind my kept hair. I feel the tightness of the nimble, silk sheet wrapped around my body. It was as hurried as I was, bound tight to my body, under my satin corset.

The fresh wind blows on my shoulders. The whip of my scarf pulls at me, as I run. My neck and shoulders would have been completely exposed if I wasn't wearing it. Only my miniskirt, covered by the silk sheet around my body, seemed to stay in place, unaffected by my calling.

The dawning light of a new day was upon me. I was in Lapona and it was real to me.

I blend in easily among the crowds of Ryoken people. I was Ryokani and that meant I had a noble bloodline. There were two other bloodlines, but I don't stop to think about it. My own bloodline didn't matter to me either. The morning was pressing my senses.

I run past two incense stands an the smell of sweet cinnamon.

People were passing me in silence, but the air was full of voices. Everyone was using full-body sign language in its various forms. They were speaking to each other in silence and I could sense it. I could see their many movements complimenting their stares. It filled my eyes.

Glowing words on my arm sleeves reflect off the faces around me with reds and purples. I hold myself together and touch the fabric, holding my arms around me. I could feel their softness next to the multiple ribbon cords attached to the tops of them. They were whipping in the wind and were a sign of my influence and status as a messenger girl. The more ribbon cords I had, the more authentic and proven influence I had over others. I was a messenger and a dancer. I was the pride of my people – the Ryoken.

My ribbon cords tap my booted legs as I stop. A sliver of my upper thigh exposed to the morning air. The fabric beneath my naked shoulders tugs at my body. Every one of my breaths felt tight. I wore the imperial gear of Lam Lathi. Being an imperial messenger was more than just my duty. It was my sacred calling that few were chosen for. My first stage dance was already here and I was prepared and nervous.

Tight straps of soft leather hug my stomach with an open slot for my messenger's strap. My belt was fresh and new and I could smell the leather in the wind. On my belt was the embroidered seals of Lam Lathi next to metallic buttons and latches.

I watch as someone makes a quiet gesture at me

“I hate Lam Lathi,” say their fingers.

I understood why. I was a Ryoken slang girl. The scum of imperial power. I was a symbol of Lam Lathi cleverness in the middle of those who would submit to my future enslaving dance. My journey as a messenger would leave a mark on those who crowded the stages. The imprints of my dances would leave their silent mark on the language of the tribes for generations to come.

I catch my breath. The morning air was becoming dense within me.

I rub my wrists. They were clasped by hard, black, leather messenger cuffs. Metal buttons had hidden blades in them when pressed. Small razors would come out. They didn't do much, but were enough to cause a second of sharp pain that I could use to escape with. My real weapon was my messenger's knife near the top of my thigh-high boots. It sat above the black leather and I had been trained to use it well.

My ribbon cords stop tapping my legs and I let my dark eyes refocus. I catch the slight movement of someone saying they were having a “bad day.” I look around at another expressing words with her hands that words and tongues would only stumble on. My whole environment was flowing with conversations and gossip that only a native would know. A foreigner could never pick up on the subtleties around me. They would stumble.

I pause at a street corner. The rumble of horses and wagons pass in front of me. I let them pass and look for a familiar landmark among the sandy buildings. I catch glimpses of painted stones from the city streets. The smoke from incense hovers below them before fading. Family markets with a few bartering voices enter my ears. My ear clips, tucked behind my ears, had gold strands that dangled with old gems at the top. I look down. The traffic clouds my view. As soon as the street is clear, a flood of people pours out with me and I cross it. The taps of their feet are the only noises around.

“Oh no”

I stumble and drop something. I pause to collect my thoughts. Something had fallen from tucked within my clothes. An envelope tumbles to the ground and everyone stops. I felt naked and exposed. A chill was already moving up my spine. My imperial letter and mandate was there for all to see.

The sign language around me stops and restarts again. This time it is more hostile. I absorb the stares and bite my lip nervously. I feel my heart press at my chest telling me to get away. It wanted out and so did I. The crowded street becomes a drowning river around me.

My hands fidget with the long zipper by my boots. I reach down and pick up my envelope, wishing I could have hidden my clumsiness in the gesture.

I resume my walk, but it doesn't feel the same.

I squeeze by others. My arms and bare shoulders rub against others who now make it difficult for me. Hand movements pass from person to person like daring acrobats with each of my steps. Each stone taps beneath my boots as if to count the passing seconds. I was frustrated and afraid. I was determined to make it the my assigned stage.

An opening appears in the distance to the main square of Lapona. It was my destination and I was set on making it. I take a hesitant glance around me as my heartbeat picks up with my longing. People start to close in on me. A shove comes and I ignore it. My eyes dart here and there, as I get closer.

I brush up against a woman. Her vicious hand sign for “little girl” passes by me. Another motions “traitor” and I narrow my eyes with brief anger. I see another gesture motion “dance” followed by “stop her.” A final gesture gives the word “death” and I panic. My bobbing view passes with increased speed as I look to my sides and turn around. I turn around again, as several shadows are cast over me. Some locals were standing between me and the main square. They try to grab me, but I push my way through and make it to my destination.

I reach for my knife and pull it out. I pull it behind my hand to hide its intended direction and, for a moment, people back off. Deadlier than my unpredictably, was the gesture I had formed with my knife. I had spoke the words “revenge” with my hand out in front of my knife. My silent gesture fills the eyes around me. My eyes dart to various safest locations as people become slightly wary. My status with Lam Lathi was enough to make the others back off for the time being.

“Where are you going dancer?” I hear someone say.

My open eyes try to look around the person as he approaches. He grabs one of my ribbon cords, but I cut it off from my arm sleeve. The long strand drops the ground and he reaches for me. He tries to declare his dominance by placing his hand on my naked shoulder saying he “owns me.” It was more of an insult among my people, but I back away. I move slowly to the side and wait. The rough sandstone of the building behind me presses against my back and corset. I feel my tribal belt around me, showing my original tribe. It was filled with gems and they were scraping the wall. I didn't wear my leather corset today and felt less protected. First dances had their customary wear.

People slowly resume their daily business and I sigh. I pry myself away from the many people and resume my journey. I quickly control my breathing and head out into to Lapona's main square.