A Hopeful Hunt.

[Tristana]

Tristana was working diligently with the charcoal and paper, her hand moving fluidly to mark down every line and shadow on paper. She was putting in her utmost effort, but her technique was simple and without finesse, it was rough and unrefined, and charcoal was not really the best material to capture the colours and mood of the morning. Funestae called over to her, "Well - I suppose we're having deer tonight?" to which she replied, "Yes, there'll be enough for us all there I hope. Although with my appetite I could probably eat the entire thing!" after which she laughed, a soft, warm sound, which seemed a little out of place for a polar bear in what could only be classed as wildnerness. She watched Funestae walk over to his horse, calling it's name affectionately, and nodded as he said he was going to ride into Ravok, reminding him to get preserving materials and a knife or two to take care of the deer. To his last remark, she turned to look at his tent and swallowed nervously, for she had never taken care of any animals before. She put down her art materials and walked into his section of the tent, seeing the resting owl, and her worries melted away. She then walked back out to where she had been sat, picking up her charcoal and getting another sheet of paper from her backpack, before returning to the tent to sit and sketch out Hope, his soft feathers and beautiful form seemingly caressed by her charcoal onto the paper. This sketch turned out a lot better, and she left it in Funestae's room for him to see when he returned. She then went outside to fetch her backpack before going into her side of the tent, sitting down to brush her hair softly, deep in thought. She could remember some of Funestae's many tattoos and decided to try and practice her skills. She had not tattooed since leaving Avanthal and knew this was a good opportunity to practice. She picked up her tattooing toolkit and pulled out the inks tray, setting that down carefully beside her. She then removed one of the needles, not needing to sterilise it for simple practising. She then pulled out one of the pieces of pig skin, dipping the needle into the black ink before setting to work. She worked slowly and carefully, pricking the skin with just the right amount of pressure to ensure the ink didn't bleed. She slowly but surely drew out a small owl, only an inch in height, simple but neat and sweet. She decided later she would draw out and colour with either her paints or ink sticks some pictures that she could use to advertise her tattooing skills, and would ask Funestae when he returned how she could go about getting work in the city of Ravok.

[Talon Shadowfoe]

Talon rummaged the violin and bow around in it's case until it slotted back into place perfectly and with that he closed it and latched it shut. Placing it back into his bag he began to sit up from his relaxed position against the trunk of the tree. Closing the backpack up, Talon held onto it as he swung one leg around the branch and sat with both legs on one side. Now his back was free, he placed the backpack onto one shoulder - throwing his cape over the top of it and then placed his second arm into the shoulder strap, lifting it comfortably onto his upper back. Talon slid clumsily off the branch and his arms waved in the air to grab hold of another branch, he landed on quick a thick tree-limb and his hand lucky grabbed a hold of a small branch to stop him falling off. He wondered if his hand would have been cut if he weren't wearing the leather gloves. Crouching closed to the branch, he gripped a hold of it with both hands and once again let his body slide slowly off - this time he had more control over his momentum and lowered his body slowly off the branch and onto a second further down the tree, his feet waved in the air for a few seconds before resting onto it and his upper body relaxed. He lowered his body again, placing one hand to the branch to steady himself upon it. Pushing with his legs, the branch came away from under him and Talon dropped like a stone towards the ground, only bending his legs slightly under the impact he felt a jolting pain up his thighs and knew he hadn't done enough to break his falling. Breathing sharply with both pain and frustration as his mistake, he moved towards the camp-site - as he moved the pain in his thighs eased to a numb stabbing. Hearing the faint voices of his companions, Talon sped up his pace and come to the edge of the clearing just as Tristana walked into the tent. Talon laid his weight against the tree next to him via his right shoulder, waiting for Tristana or Funestae to emerge and found his mind wandering over the music he'd played.

[Funestae Mortis]

By now he'd be on his way back from Ravok, cantering with much haste. The breeze on his face was enough to provide a motivating euphoria for the duration of the journey, and he rode with utmost confidence. Deep in the forest once again, he swerved tree branches and insects with difficulty, though more collided with his face than didn't. When he neared the campsite, he could feel the blood running the length of his face, and couldn't ride much further. His moment of panic was over, he'd entered a familiar part of the forest now - and slowed down into a trot. Looking out over the woodland, he decided to stop altogether, and dismounted promptly. He needed his rest, and tied the horse to the closest tree, before sitting down at its base. He rested his back against the bark and lowered his head to get some peace. His horse decided to follow his example, and Windhail knelt into a comfortable position, still tied firmly to the tree. Before he could doze off, he noticed a familiar creature by his foot - it was in fact a snake. Funestae halted at the sight of it. The forest was silent, he entered an involuntary stasis. It coiled beneath him, and although not as aggressive as the Rhysol's Viper, would still turn to attack the man had it the option. It was in fact a Ravokian Water Moccasin. Without attracting the snake's attention (for it hadn't yet noticed him) he drew for his knife. His movements were slow and basically unnoticeable. Soon the long knife was drawn, he readied his strike. He swung fast like a cobra - landing the shot to almost directly bisect the serpent. He knew better than to handle the snake's upper half, though snake was a good taste on Myrian toungue, and he couldn't resist bringing its lower half back to camp. He gave in to his temptation and, upon untying the horse, placed the snake's lower body into his pocket and mounted Windhail. He urged the horse forward, and Windhail took off once again, striding through the forest with great speed. He was on his way, and would soon be enjoying the delicacy of freshly hunted deer, seasoned nicely and with a side of Moccasin.

[Tristana]

Tristana was whiling the hours away in her tent. She made the finishing touches to the small tattoo of the owl, shading it with small dots, giving it gradient and depth. When she had finished, she straightened up, admiring her handy work and wiping the needle clean on the fabric of her trousers. She was disappointed - the lines weren't quite straight and varied in thickness, and the dots were uneven and poorly done. One of the owl's eyes was slightly bigger than the other. She let out a sigh, saddened by her lack of skill even though she knew she should not have expected anything less. She then picked up her art kit to go outside again, the mid-afternoon sky beautiful with the odd cloud floating softly by. She sat on the ground in front of a tree stump, taking out a metre square canvas and propping it up against the knotted bark of the left-over tree. She then pulled out her pack of rare paints, a medium sized bowl and her grandmother's paint brushes of varying sizes, before walking off to fill up the pan still on the stove with water from the nearby lake. When she returned, she moistened her brush in the water, placed the bowl down next to the tree stump and sat down in front of the canvas again. She then tipped out a little of each colour of paint, and in turn mixed water with each shade until they reached the correct consistency. She then began to paint the trees and sky in front of her, firstly painting in the simple shades of the sky and the trees with her larger brush. Time passed seemingly at half pace when she was painting, happily content in her creativity. The soft movement of the brush along the surface of the canvas, the choppy style, the twinkling of the sunlight on the wet paint. She switched to a smaller brush, painting in more detail, capturing the shades of light and the small flowers and leaves, until nearly all of the paint she'd mixed was used up. She laid back on the grass as the paint dried in the late afternoon sun, her stomach showing a little from under her shirt and her arms under her head. She looked over at her painting and smiled, happy with her work. She then sat up, signing her name in white paint in the bottom right corner of the painting, before packing up her artists toolkit. She would try to sell this when she went into Ravok soon.

[Talon Shadowfoe]

Talon had no idea how many bells he'd spent playing the Violin again once he'd removed it from it's case. He was sat closer to the clearing where the campsite was this time and decided to go over some of the basics some more, playing two octaves at a time. The bow brushed back and forth against the strings and Talon felt the string wriggle under his finger from side to side. He slide his hand along slightly and felt his fingers fall upon the second string, the bow slid back and forth the long neck of the violin - smoothly caressing the Violin to produce sweet and clean notes. After climbing the two string's 3 tone scales, Talon reproduced the notes he'd done backwards, fingering the correct places much easier after the first time. Moving index finger across to the second finger now, he started from there and did the same range of notes over that string and the third - climbing each note softly Talon pressed the violin harder into his face with the emotions that the sound pulled upon inside him and felt himself completely absorbed into the music he was playing, even such simple notes. Turning his attention to the third string, Talon began another set of scales and delicately placed his fingers upon the strings to force them into the right notes. There was little resistance from the strings as they bowed their heads and sang their designated note sweetly and heartily. A Smirk sprang to Talon's face as he played the higher notes that had an almost evangelical tone to them that resonated throughout Talon's ears and brought about calm and serene thoughts. As Talon grew more and more involved with his music, his shadow did mirrored the growth as time progressed, the sun got a reddish glow to it and the temperature began to drop somewhat. Talon's Jacket protected him from the cold and he would have noticed Funestae would be back soon had he not been completely focused on the fiddle in his hands and his hands themselves, he had to keep them in the right position for the right notes and to get into good habits - his mind raced over fingering positions, hand postures and bow motions all at once and he had no time to thing about anything else, didn't want to think of anything else.

[Funestae Mortis]

The horse stopped suddenly outside Funestae's tent. There was a slight thud as his simply woven cloth boots hit the soft earth. Grasping the reins, he led his horse, Windhail to the nearest tree and tied him there. "You're getting hungry, aren't you?" He spoke to the horse as if it could understand him. He turned to the view of the campsite, where Tristana and the coloured canvas sat. "That's amazing", he complimented. Though he really knew it needed more work, and would be considered amateur by the art fanatics in Ravok. He came to sit beside her, producing from his pocket the snake half. "It will go well with the deer tonight, no? I was thinking we could maybe chop it up fine and stuff the deer?" He smiled, knowing that wouldn't be the prefered option, "Or we could just eat it whole!" He roared, wiggling the snake's behind in her face. A small drop of blood splatted on her top - there was an awkward silence. "There's a carving knife that should be fine for cutting that", he stated, "And seasoning too, just make sure it's cooked well?" He nodded politely and then stood. As he got to his feet he noticed Funestae sitting at the edge of the clearing, "It's lovely music my friend", he travelled to where Windhail was tied. Reaching into the saddlebag, he fumbled around for the necessaries. He drew back suddenly, tearing his finger on the game knife. Shaking off the blood, he dipped his good hand into the satchel, finally producing the sheet of cloth. He held it extended with both hands, and tore a strip neatly from the side. Throwing the remaining cloth into the bag, he climbed into his tent. He grasped the cage door and opened it quickly, Hope had awoken and was staring with its large round eyes at the canvas. "Here you go buddy!" He started applying the bandage to the birds wing, and was finished before he missed any valuable time. "All better!" He stroked the bird softly on its fluffy head, "We'll be hunting again soon!" He left the tent to inquire about dinner...

[Tristana]

Tristana turned to look at Funestae as he returned, smiling at his comment on her painting. "Thanks," she replied, "but the subject matter isn't exactly fascinating. Hopefully I'll have a little luck selling it when I have more work under my arm." She then turned her attention to the snake that Funestae had pulled out and was waving in front of her. She laughed and licked her lips - the snake did look delicious. She didn't mind if they were going to eat it with the deer or on it's own, as long as she got some! A large drop of blood dripped down from the severed half of the snake's limp body and landed on the front of her simple cotton shirt and she simply looked down at it, an awkward silence stretching out between them. She then licked her shirt, getting some of the blood out, but a small stain remained. Her attention snapped back to Funestae who was telling her about the knives he had bought from Ravok market and laughed slightly at his comment, "Just make sure it's cooked well?". As he walked into the tent, she shouting back, playfully, "Oh yes, you would leave the cooking to the only woman!" As Funestae walked back out of his tent to inquire about dinner, Tristana rolled her eyes and groaned before standing to go see to the snake and the deer. She asked him where he kept the seasoning and the knives as she began to pour water out of her waterskin into the pot over the fire.

[Talon Shadowfoe]

Knocked out of his strange musical-induced coma by Funestae returning to the campsite and speaking to Tristana, Talon lowered both violin and bow from his chin and looked over to the two of them speaking - still somewhat dazed from his re-introduction to the world of words and survival from his previous one of simply the violin. As Funestae complimented Talon's playing, his mouth curled at one edge as a sign of appreciation and he nodded once to his friend before looking down at the Violin. Placing the instrument into it's case, Talon began to loosen the strings of the bow as to make sure it did not bend out of shape spending time in the case and then placed the bow into the case as-well - fixing it in place with the small twisting wooden ridge it slotted over. Shutting the case, he stood up with it in his right hand and crept over to his rucksack where it was propped up against one of the lines keeping the tent rigid. Placing the violin in it's case into the rucksack, he pulled the rucksack together at the opening and sealed it with the mechanism. He then left the rucksack where it was and stepped backwards from it, turning his head towards the other two members of the campsite. Funestae was talking to Tristana and showing her a snake that he had obviously found on his travels to and back from Ravok, from his time living in Ravok, Talon knew that it was a water moccasin and though he was respectful of his accomplice's actions to kill it, he thought about whether he should have gone instead. Whilst he was stood slightly concealed by the tent and completely silent, Talon hid his good intentions within his mind - which was sealed by his un-readable eyes - and watched the campsite from a distance. Seeing the happy words and laughing passing between the other two, Talon felt his facial muscles relax and his cheek twitched once as some sign of his distant happiness. Turning from the campsite, Talon walked away from the tents silently and found himself once again at the very edge of the clearing, peering off into the foliage and deeper parts of the forest that surrounded them.

[Funestae Mortis]

He clenched his stomach suddenly in some discontent. Returning to the canvas shelter, he leant down, swung aside the door and climbed into the cover. The inside of the tent was cosy, and warmer than the rest of the camp at this time. The walls are black, and absorb the heat well, and so the heat was enough to satisfy Funestae temporarily. Although he didn't mind the temperature during the day, he loathed it at night. It wasn't nearly comparable to the temperature of his homeland. He released Hope from his cage, allowing the animal to be free. The owl took the opportunity to waddle from its perch and sat beside Funestae in its discomfort. The bird's wing hadn't healed properly, and its feathers won't grow back for months to come. While releasing the bird, he realises for the first time the picture before him. The small charcoal owl stares him in the eye, and he directs this immediately to Tristana. The owl was a tattoo mock-up and although he wasn't willing to wear this version, (at least not with any pride) he'd keep in mind the concept until she bettered her skills. An envy bubbled up inside of him, for with his bird temporarily crippled, and his friends excelling in their favoured hobbies - Funestae was pushed behind. He wouldn't be able to teach his bird for months to come, despite having now trained Hope to succesfully hunt the smallest of critters. His mood was saddened greatly by this fact, and although he tried not to show it, his emotional state caused him to collapse, clutching the bird as he lay on the canvas beneath him. The two of them cuddled for what could only be described as a long, depressive while... Suddenly in a brief moment, catalyzed only by the feeling of Hope's feathers pressing softly against his skin, Funestae realised what needed to be done and immediately shot up from the ground. Setting his current mind-state aside, he perched the bird on his shoulder. And exit the tent, and in his full discretion, head off towards the horse. It stood, tied firmly where he left it, and starved. He quickly produced from the saddlebag the animal snares and map of Sylira, and contained them secretly in his backpack. Fune saw the opportunity to engage in conversation with the Kelvic girl. He approached, and asked only, "Is the food ready to be served?" He assumed it would be, and awaited a positive response. Producing the spoon from his bag as he did so.

[Tristana]

Tristana watched as Funestae walked back into the tent and turned to face Talon to see if she would receive any aid in preparing the evening meal, but he seemed too preoccupied with taking care of his violin, so she decided to leave him and do it herself. Took out all the tools she would need including the things Funestae had brought back from Ravok: a carving knife, a game knife, mint, parsley and juniper. She started by pulling apart a handful of the parsley, mint and juniper before throwing them into the pot of water. She then took care to light the fire, sweeping out the old ash, before laying out kindling and small sticks, striking sparks with her flint to start the fire. She turned her attention to the deer after piling more fuel onto the fire, the water beginning to heat up. She moved the deer so it was laid onto it's side and began to cut into it with the game knife, separating meat from it's left leg, shoulder and rump and laying them carefully on a sheet of canvas she'd laid out. She cleaned off the game knife on the corner of the canvas, before switching to the carving knife to cut the meat from the skin, which she threw to one side. She might be able to practice her tattooing on the leftover skin. She then rubbed salt and pepper into the meat, almost massaging it, small beads of sweat forming on her forehead with the effort. She then dropped the side of leg and rump into the pot, filling it with a little more water as it came to a boil, and covered the top of the pot with the lid. While it cooked, Tristana turned over the deer, making sure to quickly strip all the meat she could from the legs, shoulders, rump and ribs, piling them up on the canvas. She skinned them and rubbed salt into the meat to preserve it for a little longer. She hoped it would last at least a few more days. A little while later, Funestae emerged from the tent and she told him she would have to move what remained of the deer carcass far away from the camp to draw animals away, and if anything remained the next day she would go back and eat some of the less appetising meat because as a polar bear, she wasn't fussy. She then laughed at his eagerness to eat, "I think there's still at least an hour to wait yet!" she replied. She unfolded the canvas sheet, roughly cutting it in half with the game knife, wrapping up the deer skin in one half and the preserved meat in the other. "What shall we do with all this meat? Animals are going to be able to smell it. Should we hide it, put it somewhere inside a trap so nothing can get to it? I'll leave it to you boys," before flicking her hair over her shoulder, flashing the men a sweet smile, and carrying the wrapped up deer skin into her side of the tent.