Greetings are so often misused. We can use them sarcastically, sincerely, or completely out of context. On occaisions, some use them correctly, though usually we all answer with the all-purpose 'Hello.'
That word is overused. We use it to say 'I'm so glad you finally decided to notice me,' or 'It's good to hear you're glad to hear me,' or 'Oh my! (as in "Hello, what's this?").' Common courtesy no longer applies to that word. Thus, we must revive antiquated forms of greeting.
'It's a pleasure to meet you,' is a very fun phrase to use, though far too formal for most. 'I'm very pleased to make your acquaintance,' falls into the same category as the former, and thusly it, too, has fallen into disuse. 'Hi,' is too vulgar, too often used in the vernacular, and all it is is a shortened 'Hello,' in disguise.
So what should we use? My answer is simple: A silent nod of aknowledgement. The problem with this? Our elders view it as disrespectful! Consider the other options. You could be pounced for a greeting, Grandfather.
For a long while, Palvion sat in the forest of the sentient trees. He warded off attacks by those who were inflicted with insanity. Soon, there seemed a grove around the empty husk that was once Wyxtran. Palvion took refuge at night within the no-longer sentient tree's gnarled and pained branches. In the day, he sat upon its shapely trunk. Always, it rained, and the thunder mocked his necessary choice.
The time was running out, Palvion knows. He has not yet made his choice, and still he must destroy the next of the Sacred Stones. For now, though, he can not bring himself to move from the resting place of Wyxtran and the other trees.
"Where by all the Mothers of all the Sons of all the Gates am I?" a tiny voice asks in the middle of the night. The stench of sulpher wafts over to Palvion and awakens him.
Trying to focus, Palvion's gaze rests upon a little man who is standing on one of Wyxtran's branches and peering out across the grove. The man is not at all big; he would fit only comfortably on Palvion's shoulder. A long, whiplike, black tail that ends in a red spade flicks out in irratation, and lightning illuminates his hairy goat-like legs and cloven feet. He has uneven silvery hair that is bound in a tiny string and left to fall over his bare back in a pony-tail. On closer inspection, two little floppy ears hung down from beneath the hair, and two little horns pointed up out of it.
"What the devil are you?" Palvion asked, addressing the small goat-man.
The goat-man jumped, taken a bit off-guard. "I'm surprised you recognized me... No. That's the wrong word, isn't it? I'm surprised you noticed me," he said, stressing the corrected word. He seemed to talk quickly and had a bit of a bubbly voice that seemed full of devious inflections and accents.
His eyes are bright enough, though Palvion can barely see them, for the goat-man is smling, and thusly has slits for eyes. When he peers at Palvion, however, he revealed a pair of verdant green eyes, but then they were lost in his smile again.
"I," the little goat-man says, "am a Gehenian Satyr." His voice is filled with pride. "My name is Khur. I had been on my way to Veniam Mactare, but I miscalculated and somehow ended up here. Wherever here is, that is."
"It's a pleasure to meet you, I think," Palvion replied. "My name is Palvion. This place is Jahiya, the Isle of Storms."
"Ah. I see. I'm really far off my course, I suppose, and I can't do another long-distance jump for some time." He sighed. "And your name is well chosen. Palvion, in the Satyric tongue, means 'blessed and wise.' My name, on the other hand, is a word from an old civilization called the Persians. It means 'sun.' Though what good is the sun in the Isle of Storms, eh?"
Palvion smiles wanly. "Here, my name means 'sky-cleaver.' I've a great deal of weighty decisions resting on my shoulders, and I've somehow been chosen to save my people by returning them to land."
"Tough draw, that." Suddenly, in a flash of red smoke and a stench of sulpher, he was gone. A pop sounds beside Palvion's ear, and an added bit of weight rests on his shoulder. "Doesn't seem like there's much on your shoulders, actually, friend Palvion. Just skin." He stomped on the shoulder with his hoof. "Really solid skin, I might add."
"Ow! That hurt!" Palvion objects, sweeping Khur off his shoulder. He sees the Satyr fly towards a rock, and suddenly he vanishes again, only to reappear sitting calmly on the rock.
"And that wasn't very nice, friend Palvion."
Palvion sighs. There seems to be no winning with the Satyr. "I suppose I'll go to sleep," Palvion says, yawning. He curls himself around the egg and closes his eyes.
Drifting to sleep, Palvion hears the voice of Khur. "You do that," he says, smiling. "I'll stand guard."
"OW! That hurt, you whoring Mother of Hend!" Khur's tiny, bubbly voice rings out through the grove of Wyxtran. He begins nudging Palvion violently as the hideous creature approaches the fallen tree.
Palvion moans groggily, saying something about not wanting to eat his vegetables, Mommy. Then, he wakes up, screaming in pain and batting at his arm. He finds himself trying to whack Khur away, and then realizes that Khur is biting him.
"KHUR!" he shouts, removing the strange creature from his arm. "That hurts!"
Khur looks up at Palvion, blinks, and grins like a maniac. He promptly teleports to one of the twigs of the tree under which Palvion is sitting with the egg. "Sorry, Palvion, but I had to wake you. You've got company, and she's a spiteful Mother," the Satyr replies indignantly.
Palvion looks all about and then sees Marki standing on the edge of the clearing, her arms folded across her diminutive, frail frame. "That's just Marki. She won't hurt you," Palvion replies, trying to ease the Satyr. He smiles and crawls out from the tree's shelter.
"If you says so, but if it's all the same to you, I'll stay here with the egg. No sense in us both going to our dooms." Then, to demonstrate that he means it, Khur pops on top of the grey egg.
Palvion shrugs and then walks over to Marki. "What's wrong?" he asks.
Marki's eyes are furious pools of orange. She pokes Palvion in the chest. "Why aren't you destroying the stones!?" she demands of him.
"I'm not certain if it's the right thing to do. With the imbalance of the lack of the Magirune, the trees of this forest are no longer at peace. How can I do this if it will hurt others?"
"Grow up, Sky-Cleaver!" Marki says in quiet anger. "You're naught save a spoiled, whiney boy. Here's your chance to be someone remembered, and you won't do it because you're not certain if it's the right thing?!" Her voice has an odd, screeching quality to it.
Palvion shrugs.
"Don't you want to go back to the ground, to where your people belong? Don't you want to be remembered, to be a hero?"
"If it means the pain of others, no," Palvion replies, his voice calm and steady. He had been weighing those exact issues against each other for the past few weeks.
Marki lets out an angry growl. "You will destroy the Hydrorune. If you don't, your whole precious Jahiya will disintigrate, taking you and all your Yrnaks with it!"
Palvion blinks. Is she threatening him? "Fine," he says finally. "I'll destroy your Hydrorune."
"Way to stand up for your morals, Palvion," Khur's voice echos through the air. The bubbly sensation of it seems a bit sharper at the moment, and Palvion simply lowers his eyelids.
"After that, however, I stop. I don't want to cause harm to others."
Marki nods, and something moves behind Palvion. "Whoa! Hold on, there!" Khur's voice calls from under the tree. Palvion turns to see the egg begin rolling again, and when he turns back to Marki, she is gone.
Palvion smiles and returns to Khur and the egg. "What's wrong?" he asks the Satyr.
"It's jumping!" Khur replies, sort of hugging the egg to stay on it.
"Obviously. Come on, we go to the Lakes of Wynth, and then we'll worry about our friend the egg, alright?" Smiling, Palvion takes the egg, which is indeed jumping, into his arms. Khur pops onto his shoulder, and they begin the rest of the journey to the Lakes of Wynth.
"Those're the Lakes of Wynth!?" Khur asks, almost incredulous. "They're nothing more than little puddles!" He pops over to one and bends to look at it. "I could walk across it!" he declares, extending a furry leg as the rain splatters on the surface of the puddle. Then, to prove his point, he takes a step - and falls deep into the water.
Palvion walks over to the puddle, chuckling, as Khur pops back onto his shoulder, vainly wringing the water from his pony-tail. Muttering, the Satyr glowers indignantly at the puddle. Palvion can't help but laugh. As he does so, the egg jumps a little.
Khur stares at the egg. "Do you think it will hatch soon?" he asks.
Palvion shrugs. "I don't know. I want to know what it will be. That's what I'm curious about."
Khur nods. "So, let's find this Hydrorune that that cursed Mother is wanting you to destroy." He looks about. "What's it look like?" he asks.
Palvion stoops down and etches the symbol in the sand. "That's printed on it," he says to Khur, who stares at the symbol.
Khur glances from the symbol to the lakes and back again. "That's the same shape. The symbol is a more solid depiction of the form of the lakes." He blinks in surprise, stopping his perpetual smile for a bit as he ponders this.
Palvion sighs. "I should have figured as much. Stay here." He takes out the axe of Palvionic and walks to the edge of the nearest puddle. "Let's shake things up, eh?" Raising the axe of Palvionic above his head, Palvion slams the axe down onto the puddles.
As the shaking of the island begins, Khur can not help but mutter what a ridiculously cheap pun that was. The puddles melt deep into the ground of Jahiya, and take much of the ground with them. Soon, there is nothing left but a large basin, on the edge of which Palvion stands. The constant rain makes quick work of filling it, as does the run-off from rain elsewhere on the island.
"Well, that was fun," Palvion remarks, grinning maniacally. "Now, let's see what about our egg we can do." He walks back to the egg, and Khur pops onto his shoulder once more.
"It didn't jump much at all while you destroyed the Hydrorune, Palvion," Khur relates, perplexed.
"It didn't? I wonder what happened to it..."
As if in answer to his thoughts, the egg suddenly bursts open, revealing a grey dragon streaked with white and purple on most of its body. The newly-hatched dragon looks around, seeming to drink in the rain and feast on the thunder that echoes over the island. Suddenly, he streteches his wings and runs at the basin that was once the Hydrorune. He is three meters from the brink when Palvion dives on him, pinning him to the ground.
"Oh, no, you don't!" Palvion cries, holding the dragon, even as he tries to wrestle from the Yrnak's grip. "You're staying right here, on the ground, where we can keep an eye on you."
The dragon looks up at him with bright, black eyes and lets out a sort of low growl. He opens wide his mouth and tries to get some chance to bite his captor. Seeing that he can not, he takes to clawing and scratching at Palvion's arms.
"I don't care if you want to fly; you'll hurt yourself if you go much farther. Come on, Abvindor, don't be stupid!"
With the dragon's plight comes a new burst of wind and rain. The thunder seems to be more plentiful, and the lightning twice as bright. His deep growl, however, is omnipresent in the montage of noises.
"What did you call him?" Khur shouts above the wind as he holds tight to Palvion's neck.
"Abvindor. It means 'He who separates himself from the land.' I figured because he wanted to fly so badly, it was a good name for him," is Palvion's response. He wrestles the dragon into his arms, ignoring that the dragon is tearing his skin to ribbons. "Come on! Relax! I'm not going to hurt you!" he cries to the dragon over the rain.
Suddenly, the winds and rain subsides quite a bit. *You're not?* The voice is young and perplexed, as if wondering why it would be that one who is holding him would not want to hurt him.
"No," Palvion laughs, "I'm not."
Background by Ender Design.