#ulluriaq

[weekly-oskari]

Oh, seems like Lite Oskari brought some folks!

[weekly-oskari]

Get patted, idiot

[weekly-oskari]

Gotcha!

[tininnimiuq]

Some things will never change

“You have to stop telling them these stories! My daughter is making up stories of her own and she’s scaring me!” 

“She’s not making them up aiguuq, I believe she can really see.”

“This is not how I ever planned to raise my daughter. It’s sacrilege. She’s going to grow into a demon worshipper if you keep encouraging her like this. As her father you should have some care for her immortal soul.”

“Your own brother is a shaman, aiguuq. He is a wise and powerful man, respected far beyond our own land. Don’t you wish the same for our daughter? to grow up capable and respected?”

“AND FEARED AND SHUNNED?!” shrieked the woman. 

“SHH! they’re going to hear you!” said the man urgently. he grabbed her wrists and tried to restrain her while she fought hm off agitatedly. 

Ulluriaq was quiet, carrying the skins they used for fetching water, filled with snow they would melt down. She stood still outside the iglu where her parents were arguing much louder than they had intended. She had heard everything. She resisted the urge to cry, swallowing her grief and hurt with the cold night air. She took a moment to pull herself together before she made her way into the iglu, her parents had ceased arguing, in fact they were not speaking to each other at all. Her mother was nursing her baby sister, who had awoken during the argument. Her father was tending the oil lamp, unusual as that was not something the man of the household generally did. 

“Father, let me” she said as she set her burdens down. he began to empty the packs of snow into a metal cookpot while she poked at the burning moss and oil. Her mother did not look at or acknowledge her at all; instead focused her whole attention on her baby sister. “You’re a good girl,” her mother cooed, you will not grow into such an abomination, I promise you”. 

The urge to cry cam over Ulluriaq again, but again she swallowed it whole and buried it deep within herself. She understood where her mother was coming from, so many of her people were still under the influence of The Strangers’ Faith. 

[tininnimiuq]

In search of light

Ulluriaq was tasked with tending the qullik, it was burning low already. She sorted through the bag that contained the maniq, dry, spongy moss that she would soak in oil as lamp fodder. There was not much left, she would have to go harvesting for it under the snow soon, maybe today even. She scooped up what was left and balled it in her fist before placing it in the lamp. There was only one small triangle of flame left, she tried to work quickly so she wouldn’t have to relight it with a flint stone. The oil too, was sparse. Her father had not been able to catch any seals lately, her parents predicted that they were approaching a time of famine. She did not know what they would use for oil until the spring. The iglu was cold already. she rolled her maniq in what oil residue was left in the lamp, managing to saturate it just enough. She poked at the flame with the naqquq, holding her breath so that she wouln’t blow it out. It lit. She exhaled, satisfied with herself. She sat looking at the flames for a moment, admiring the flickering, gentle light they gave off; hearing the soft crackle and taking in the smell of burning oil. Familiar sounds and smells. Her eyes unfocused and she sat entranced for a little while more. Soon she realized she was seeing images in the flames, daydreams, her mother called them; born of the vivid stories her father told. She saw villages with brightly coloured wooden houses, dogs tied to pegs in the ground, and brightly coloured vehicles, cars her father called them when he told them old stories and legends from the past. It was winter in this vision too, as cold and dark as her world was at that moment; some of the houses had trees lit with hundreds of brightly coloured little lights outside, and the same little lights in the windows, too. Suddenly, she saw that the image had been replaced by a pair of kindly brown eyes, deeply lined from a lifetime of laughter. She recognized her uncle, he winked and she heard him laugh softly. She smiled back and shook herself out of her trance. “My uncle can fly” she thought to herself “I’m going to be just like him.” Then she realized she had a task to perform and went to go pick more maniq.