Fandom Dancing to the Wedding Drum

[sadladsalad]

^{Pocahontas (c) Disney}​

Kokoum was the type of boy to believe where if he was earnest, dilligent, and respectful enough to the spirits— things will naturally fall into place. He was loyal enough to the chief, brave enough to conquer enemies, and strong enough to build the house that would soon support his future bride. Now, it's only a matter a question of when.

That's how self-assured he was. How confidant.

How naive.

Yet, his face would never dare show such feasible weakness. Not out of strength, but out of habit. Solemn. Serious. Maybe a bit of a dampener. Oof. His brows naturally curled inward, as he spies a carp glide through the river water. It's scales were glistening under the refracted light, along with numerous river rocks and glittering sands. Easier to spot, for sure. Easier to predict it's next movement up stream.

Ah, but he was pragmatic, you see. Capable, certainly. But... easy-going?

He frowned. Even his consciousness was already conscious about it.
What was making him get this far in terms of accomplishments, was certainly driving his future wife away.

Shit.

His mind didn't even register the large, messy splash his spear made when he chucked it haphazardly into the stream. It was such an awful throw that he can only watch the spear merely dangle length wise and float down the stream. It was almost a metaphor for his leaking composure. He can only stare at pure awe.

Hah. Excellent. Now he'll have to go fetch it like wild dog.

 

[wendy]

Rows, shouting and orders had been Claire's reality for the past couple of weeks. First it was the sailors who put her to work on the journey across the Atlantic ocean towards the new world. Secondly came the rows with her fiancée, he couldn't even be called a man in Claire's eyes. He was too cold and callus to even earn the title of human but yet once the church construction was completed Claire and the inhumane man would become one of the first couples to be wed in the new world. It was a sad reality but the young women had found solace in one way, she'd leave the confines of the settlement walls and journey into the beautiful landscape before her.

The scenery was like nothing she had ever experiences: vibrant colours that seemed to come straight from an artists palette, animals that were so foreign to her but each had their own unique charm and Claire especially liked that animal that created small damn's along the river, she recalled that one of the explorer's had called it a Beaver. There was one thing she loved most about the New World though and it was the river. The water so pure that it seemed like glass, nothing like the tar coloured water back in London which had been polluted, this place was untouched and pure and Claire wished that it could stay like this forever.

The young women sat at the bottom of a large willow tree watching the river gently flow before her, she was trying to find anyway to keep herself cool from the midday sun which didn't favour the fashion trends of Paris. She let out a deep sigh standing and grabbing the bottom of her dress and pulling it up and over her head, she hung it neatly on the branch of the willow before pulling the string out of the corset that bound her waist, she did not take as much care hanging it up as she despised the blasted thing. Finally the young women stood in the forest, the only thing protecting her skin was a white slip dress but Claire didn't care, no one was going to see her right?

Excited laughter and giggles left her mouth in a sweet soprano as she charged towards the waters edge and walking until her feet no longer touched the river bed. She leant back letting the water carry her downstream, her eyes gently shut as she let the warm sunlight caress her skin, she let the water carry her even though it would lead her far from the settlement but Claire didn't mind. She didn't want to return to that place anyway, she wouldn't care if she were washed out to sea and eaten by a gigantic sea monster. It'd be a much more pleasant way to die that dying a wife of a man who she hated.

Her blissful peace was abrupted by when an anxiety washed over her body, she gently swam over to the nearest shore and pulled herself from the water to sit on the banks. Her clothes were no where in sight and so now Claire sighed staring to walk back along the shore of the river. She walked and walked until the wide river turned into a trickling stream and as she looked up stood on the opposite bank of the stream was a native finishing. She couldn't help but gasp it was her natural reaction, the propaganda her father had fed her that native's were evil had scared Claire but she had yet to make her own judgement on the native people. The women stood still dripping wet from her dip in the river staring at the native out of pure surprise. ​

 

[sadladsalad]

k u c o u m​

Crisp is an unusual word to use to describe the sounds of a river, but somehow, it just works. The fresh sound of water trickling downstream was certainly crisp to the ear.

—Well, to be perfectly honest, it was alive.

The river was just as lively as all the other creatures that lived in its banks. Eternally flowing, but steady enough to support all that lives within its body. Nothing can force the river to go any other direction.

...Well, people try.
Doesn’t mean they were successful.

The river isn’t steady, despite moving; it’s steady because it’s always moving. Nothing but the earth itself can force it to move any other direction than downstream. Kucoum can only desperately wish for the river to suddenly flow literally the opposite direction, but he knew better than that, sadly. He knows full well that he’ll have to chase after his spear, lest he will be forced to make another one.

He could just ignore it as he goes back home to his tribe, though. It was a very tempting thought, but his lack in his typical supply would merely just vex him to make just another spear. Furthermore, he wouldn’t waste nature like that. So all he could do in this situation was to pick himself up as he planted himself down onto his seat. His eyes scaled the floor of the canoe for the long pole he used to paddle.

Eventually when Kukoum found such a thing fitting the description, he curses the spirits in his mother tongue. He was wondering how weird it was that the spear didn’t piece into the bed of the river (while also being deeply disappointed in himself for not being able to catch a single fish). He carefully looks down the river again to find his “spear” floating freely on the surface of the water. This time, however, he was carefully observant. For just one second only, he allowed himself to forget all his worldly problems to objectively see that his “spear” he just used to hunt carp wasn’t a “spear” at all.

It was his fucking oar.

He slaps the meat of his palms against his cheeks, rubbing his closed eyes in frustrated circles. Of all the— okay. Calm down. He was, in all manners of speaking, distracted. Very, very distracted. So focused, in fact, that he didn’t even realize that there was a white woman staring at him. What? He couldn’t help it!

His hands were literally covering his eyes, while his middle finger traces the ridges of bone upon his face. First it was the hair of his eye brows, tailing along with his high cheekbones, only to go up the bridge of his nose, and then eventually repeating the cycle again at the brow. Something about the process of moving his finger in circular motions almost seem to reflect the same kind of motion into his thoughts.

With a deep sigh that rumbles down into his lungs, he releases his hands from his face and opens his eyes. For one split second, at the corner of his vision, he catches the reflective white linen from the woman’s underdress. He couldn’t help but follow the light, his gaze only stopping to see her squarely to her face.

Admittingly, Kucoum could only think about one thing.

˗ˏˋ What the fuck. ˎˊ˗​

 

[wendy]

Days before Claire was to set sail on her journey to the new world her father had spent days trying to drill the idea of the barbaric native into her consciousness and while it scared her she couldn't help but fault her father for the pure ignorance that fell from his mouth, it were if that man's tongue were possessed and he could only speak foul of people. It was a trait Claire had tried her best to ignore but it had caused clashes between them before. The hatred and villainization of the natives seemed only to be escalated upon arrival into the new world. Armed guards patrolled the settlement at all hours of the night waiting for attack that never seemed to be coming, her fiancée was much like her father speaking nothing but foul slurs for the natives who hadn't seemed to take a step more than 1 mile of their hideous settlement. Even though Claire had tried her best to rid herself of all bias of the natives she couldn't help but find herself scared in the presence of a native.

He hadn't yet noticed her stood on the shore line and so Claire took a moment too take in his appearance. What first drew her eye was his tanned skin, it was like nothing she'd seen before, it reminded her of the chestnut thats fell each autumn in England. His hair was long, something that was only reserved for women in her home country but the long delicate locks of thick coal coloured hair complimented his strong facial structure. He wasn't like any man she'd seen before and that peaked her interest but once their eyes met and the pair just stared at eachother, he seemed surprised and caught off guard as if Claire had interrupted a moment that was meant just for him. The young women tore her eyes away from his remembering the lesson of 'it's rude to stare' taught to her by her chamber maid.

With their eye contact broken Claire felt less of an obligation to greet him, she just nodded her head as a sigh of acknowledgement before the young women spotted her pale blue dress flowing in the branches of the willow tree on the opposite bank. She sighed loudly as it meant another swim but the young women had gotten herself into this situation and she'd have to get herself out of it. She gently walked into the water avoiding the eye contact of the native man but she did give in a few times and take a sneak peak. 'He tried to spear a fish with an oar?' Claire thought to herself and couldn't help but let a small laugh leave her lips at the sight, he seemed to be having quite a day especially from the sigh he let out just moments earlier.

Claire just lowered herself into the water more, the cold water sending goose bump to ripple over her skin but she was determined to reach the other side and it showed on her face.


​

 

[sadladsalad]

k u c o u m

Kill her.

That’s what his instincts should have told him to do—- but his mind was so blank, his body only managed to get him up and onto his feet. It was then he realized he was lucky for his lack of situational awareness, otherwise he wouldn’t be holding his hand-carved spear right now. The familiar trickle of anxiety and adrenaline sprouted from the depths of his guts, Kocoum already acquainted to its sensation before the eve of his many battles. Except...

It was weird.

So, so very weird.

And he hated her for making him feel that way.

Kocoum tightened his jaw in acknowledgement as the white woman looked away from his piercing gaze, her brunette head slightly bobbing by the motion.

Ah.

His mind was blank again. Furrowing his brows, he tightened the grip of his hand-carved spear, his knuckles tight and bleached white under his skin. The natural bumps of the crude, rough edges and odd bumps he missed when he carved, now suddenly threaten to pierce his fingers. He kept telling himself that a part of the pain was a reminder. That he should take aim, draw back his javelin, and follow-through.

But his hand was too numb to think of listening.

The sensation crept further up his forearm and into his shoulders when she suddenly placed a bare naked foot in the river, following one leg after the other till eventually she was neck deep. She paddled farther into the center of the river and Kucoum can only gawk. His eyebrows were furled and stern. His presence solid but grimancing. As she gets nearer to the oar, he suddenly connects the dots. Now he’s carefully watching. Trying to understand the situation he’s in. And only one question popped up from his mind.

She wouldn’t. Would she?

 

[wendy]

The river lapped around Claire’s neck as the young women gently paddled out into the cool water. Her target was the wooden oar that floated near him but was yet was out of his reach. The aura he exuded was intimidating as he rose from the canoe showing his full height but the way he clung to his spear was what frightened Claire the most but it also made her think ‘why hasn’t he gone through with it?’ Why hadn’t he thrown the spear and ended her miserable days, he could of done it so easily but yet he just stared with that burning gaze that made Claire’s hair stand on edge.

The women finally reached the oar that he had so carelessly thrown into the river. She reached out grasping onto the rough wooden oar before she turned in the direction of his canoe but before she approached her eyes warily scanned the spear that he was grasping so tightly. Claire chose to paddle over and with every inch she gained closer to the man knots of anxiety twisted in her stomach as her eyes glanced between the spear and his face hoping that she’d notice any signs of a pending attack. She gapped the distance between herself and canoe within a few seconds, swimming up to the side of the canoe one of her hands held onto the side of the wooden boat to steady herself before she pulled the oar from the water and placed it in the canoe. It was a swift motion with Claire only glancing up a ‘Here’ being conveyed through a simple glance before the young women let go of the side of the canoe and continued to the opposite bank.

Exiting the water Claire’s white underdress clung to each curve and contour of her body. With her back faced to him she pulled her long brunette locks from her face and gently begun to start squeezing the water from her curly locks. She could feel his stare on her still and so Claire looked over her shoulder, her eyes mainly trained on the spear but she also took a quick glance at his face. To Claire this man was extraordinary from the way he dressed to the way his hair seemed to be decorated. He was new and so foreign to her that his face had been forever burned into her memory. She’d remember his face as the first native she’d ever laid eyes upon.

Her white dress would have to dry before Claire could even think of dressing herself again otherwise the water would ruin the satin fabric of her dress and make her corset incredibly difficult to tighten. She took a seat at the base of the willow tree brushing the few loose strands of hair out of her face as her eyes were once again trained upon the native. She kicked herself over not brining her notebook because then she’d be able to sketch down his face but for now she’ll just have to settle for sketching from memory. Wind picked up a few moments later as a flurry of leaves being carried by the wind seemed to circle the native but it seemed random to Claire and she didn’t pay attention as the leaves continued their journey to slowly flurry and circle her before slowly floating to the ground beside her. ​

 

[sadladsalad]

k u c o u m

Kucoum eyebrows lifted itself curiously as he received his birchwood oar back. The familiar weight barely bounced on his hand as he took the neck of the paddle with careful inspection. His eyes glanced over, twisting it about in his hand. There was this... expectation he had—- some sort of imperfection to be found, or some sort of evidence it had been tampered with, spirits, just something that even remotely resembled a screw up that he could point out! But alas—- its just as he last had it: wet. Very, very wet. Only water droplets bead down the grain of wood. It was a complicated feeling to see nothing wrong with it. Maybe almost disappointed. Maybe almost glad.

He removed his eyes from the paddle, much more curious about the white woman. Like how he inspected his oar, he observed her just as carefully. Almost analyzing every part of her. His eyes, as earthy as the ground, reflected her water-drenched appearance as it clung to her shape and form. It was thin and sheer. Nothing about it seemed to protect her from the elements, not even the water that she dived so eagerly into. Her milky skin lacked any scars in strong contrast to Kocoum.

It was to be expected though. Scars were like badges to a warrior. Albeit young, he sought after many. Long streaks of re-mended flesh can be found scattered anywhere on his body. It was his pride. His joy. Every scar meant to resemble his service in honor for Powhatan.

Yet, she looked like she barely stepped foot into the sun. He would have believed anyone if they told him that she left the shelter of the caves and tree canopies only a few hours ago. She was... soft. Uncalloused. Marshmallowy? Just as wet as the oar he held. Unfortunately, like the flow of the river, she moved on before Kocoum can truly relish her appearance. She swam away before he had a chance to even breathe out.

He squatted into his canoe, the oar and his spear supporting his weight beside him as he watched her swim back to the opposite shore bank. It seemed that the rest of her stuff, such as pale blue dress padded with a surplus of textile, was hanging from the branches. Why would she wear so much clothes? It seems like it would get in the way of everything. Didn't seem good for swimming. Didn't seem good for moving, in general to be honest. Why wear it in the first place if she just takes it off? Ah, well. No matter. He needed to go hunt and this place, under the Grandmother Willow, seemed like it had no desire to be hunting grounds as the winds stirred.

Planting himself once again to row the boat, Kocoum, begins rowing the boat until the gusts of air tickled his hand. Leaves from maples, dogwood, and birch caught his attention as he followed the little burst of flurries to her. As she seemed to comb through her wet tangled hair, she doesn't seem to notice the wind seem to awash her presence.

Kucoum jaw tightens, turning his head away from the scene, as though a second glance more would curse him.

Does he want to kill her?
Ah, well. Even if he did wanted to, he knows he can't anymore.
Not yet, anyway. Not until a good reason presents itself.

With a single exhale, he rows upstream and back to the tribe.

 

[wendy]

He was an interesting man, the way her sternly looked at her as if for looking even begging for a fault for an excuse to end her existence with the spear that he held so tightly. He had however not found such fault in Claire and so she was able to live another day and she would relish in the feeling. The young women looked over her shoulder seeing that the native man had not yet left but had fallen in a crouch still bearing into her with his intense gaze, it sent a shiver across her skin or maybe that was just the chill of the wet fabric across her skin. Claire walked closer to the willow tree placing a hand on the rough bark to steady herself as she wiped the mud from the soles of her feet in preparation to get herself dressed again and what an arduous task that would be as her wet skin would make the fabric stick to her like glue.

First came the corset, she gently retrieved it from the willow tree's branches not wish to snap any of them. She placed it gently around her waist before starting the hideous process and slowly tightening it. This process had always been a source of bad memories just like many women who'd had their corset so tightly bound around their waist that they faint. Such incident had only happened to Claire once, a new chamber maid thought the smaller the waist the better chances of catching the eye of a man but that chamber maid was swiftly let go when Claire was found slumped over in a heap at her home back in London. Claire was rough with the ribbon pulling it as tight as she possibly could before finally securing the corset with neat ribbon. The pale blue dress was simple enough to wear as Claire swiftly pulled it over her head letting it fall to its correct position before flatting the fabric.

Claire turned to see the native man had begun rowing away and Claire felt slightly sad that she didn't get to say goodbye even if it were just a small smile. Claire did not yet want to return to the settlement and so instead she sat at the base of the willow tree and picked up the small leather bound book that was filled with her detailed notes about the plants, animals and scenery of the new world. Next to each detailed description were an equally as detailed drawing that captured an extreme likeness to whatever was her chosen subject. Claire flipped through the book to a clean page and paused for a moment but then she begun to draw the native man's eyes, she could picture that stern gaze in her mind so easily that her drawing gave an extreme likeness to the man she encountered even down to the smallest scar and eyelash. She wished she could give it to the native man but instead Claire skilfully ripped the piece of paper from her notebook, folding it carefully she was about to place the drawing under a rock to secure it's place but before she could a large gust of wind begun to carry the paper beyond her grasp.

"No!" Claire gasps as she sprung to her feet immediately chasing the runaway drawing but as she though it was in grasp the wind carried the piece of paper across the river and into the forest "Now he'll never see it." Claire complained sighing to herself watching the piece of paper disappear into the forest hoping that by some stroke of fate that it would some how end up in his hands.

"Lady Beckett?" A male voice called from behind her. Claire turned slightly shocked but she saw one of her fiancée's men walking towards her "Are you alright?" He asked giving a slightly confused look at why she was staring at the river "Did you spot a savage?" He asked, the word savage caused Claire to frown. "No, It was just some wild life. Now what is it that you need?" Claire asked looking at the man who just nodded his head "Your fiancée was wondering where you had gotten off too and what time shall you be returning?." The man asked and Claire rolled her eyes. "I shall return like I have every day, before the sun sets I'll make my way back." Claire responds as the feeling of her fiancée's controlling nature rolled over her skin.​