Open [Eagle Aeries] Spying on Your Betters

[Azira]

21st Winter 513AV

Restlessness. It was just something that happened in winter. People became restless stuck in the mountain with hardly any food and nothing to do. Azira had no excuse, she had something to do, she wasn't stuck in the mountain. She was getting restless though, tired of the monotony. She understood what Syveris meant by how boring repetitive work was. Winter was different than any other season and yet she'd already fallen into an all too familiar pattern. Leave the city, drag her apprentices along, catch nothing and then want to strangle somebody. She was sick of it.

She thought going to the Aeries might make a difference to the usual routine. She couldn't bring herself to just go through the whole thing all over again. So, the huntress had wandered up to the home of the Endals. She didn't know why she'd chosen there, maybe hoping to bump into someone she knew. Perhaps she could convince Lavira to bring her out again, or Alori though she didn't know her as well. Though maybe it was the desire to see the eagles.

The huntress hadn't given up on her dream to join the ranks of the eagle riders. It seemed a truly impossible dream. Eagles hated her. She didn't know why but they did. The only eagle who had actually taken somewhat of a liking to her was Mohya, Lavira's eagle but she thought that the Endal's influence had helped a bit. The unbonded Wind Eagles now... they'd kill her as soon as look at her. But she was still drawn to them, maybe she just had a death wish.

The Avora passed by a pair of male Endal who looked back at her. She could feel their eyes on her and it made her grind her teeth. Why could men never keep their eyes to themselves? It didn't help her temper when she walked into someone. She was the one at fault and yet she was the one who snapped.

"Hey! Will you watch where you're going?" she snarled. Azira hadn't bothered to pay any attention because she had to let every man's stare rile her and now she'd probably be insolent to an Endal. The huntress stammered an apology, her cheeks burning as she glanced up to see who she'd so rudely walked into.

x

[Edric Wingard]

Lady Winter must have been a ruthless goddess if her season was anything to go by. Her icy fingers caressed the world into silence; the singing birds and rushing water lay barren of voice and splendor under her watchful care. Areas of life that flourished and grew were suddenly empty and desolate, leaving no traces of the previous flurry of activity beyond vague memories of before. It was rather nostalgic to look back onto the days of plentiful fauna and flora and then return to the emptiness of winter.

Especially in Mount Skyinarta where the livelihood of man was based solely on hunting and the enjoyment of their surroundings; to be incapable of doing such was rather devastating. Rather than recreational escapism, men and women had to focus on the rumblings of their stomach and the threat of frost bite on their toes. Gone were the easy days of relaxation, only for it to be replaced by hunger, stress and cabin fever. Even now, Wingard was feeling the itchy sensation of being stifled; his fingers and toes twitching to escape his aerie and explore. It was because of this erratic need for fresh air that the man popped his head out of his home in order to seek some solace. It had been some days since he had returned from his fail of a hunting trip, having spent quite a few bells since then confined to his bed. The run in with the lynx had really hindered his mobility, the cut on his leg at one point so angry and red that he was worry that an infection was imminent.

Fortunately, the infirmary had taken good care of him and he was now capable of walking about – albeit stiffly. Letting out a grunt as he wandered down the aeries, stretching his recently unused muscles, the man contemplated the harsh effect of winter on Wind Reach once again. It was rather unfortunate that every Inartan’s emotions were so frayed and worn thin, especially considering that they were a race run by their emotions. This inability for his fellow people to think logically was creating a multitude of strife and waspishness that had the Kelvic thinking twice about conversing with anyone – and he didn’t like talking to anyone to begin with.

Continuing his walk, his eyes closed as he tilted his head to the sky, Wingard avoided making eye contact with the Endal outside of their homes. He did not want to encourage interaction as he assumed that it would hardly be worth his time so he looked away in disinterest, instead focusing his attention on the men in front of him that leaned rather stupidly against the entrances of their home. Each carried themselves with arrogance, their backs straight and chin high even as they rested on cold stone in a posture he was sure they believed emanated confidence or attractiveness. To the Kelvic, all he could focus on was the stupidity it took to lean against a wall in the middle of winter that horded the cold so closely that he only imagined their behinds were freezing. Was exuding an exterior of manliness more important than basic warmth?

Raising a brow, his gait slowed to a mere shuffle as he continued to watch the group of them guffawing and nudging shoulders at the appearance of some random girl. Sure, she was somewhat attractive, but really? ’What useless louts,’ he thought callously, a frown marring his chapped lips as he observed their lewd gestures and derogatory comments at the woman. Wingard did not hold one’s appearance in great regard, believing that the opposing perspective was shallow, brainless and utterly illogical. One’s appearance did not ensure their intelligence, capability, or potential. It was simply a distraction utilized by weak minded individuals in order to gain self-importance or false confidence in their abilities. In a society where people did not live long and hunters were reputable catches for mates, looks really shouldn’t have been a priority in natural selection.

But just like he danced with his colony, these humans preened for their betters in hopes of snagging the best companion for themselves as self-worth was not determined by oneself, but by the opinions of others.

Continuing to frown as he watched the scenario unfold, the Kelvic idly wondered if the woman was planning on looking up anytime soon in order to avoid a collision. When it appeared that she wasn’t, the man decided that it may be best to move himself out of the situation. As her lithe body collided with his own, Wingard maneuvered himself so that she connected only with his shoulder, shrugging her off forcefully in order to limit the amount of contact they had. He did not find her dirty, per say, but just the concept of touching another volatile creature really wasn’t a pleasant one.

As she snapped illogically at him, the man couldn’t help but sigh in exasperation. Just like he perceived before, the people of Wind Reach that were traditionally run by their emotions were tightly wound. Staring down at the creature, because no decent being would speak to another in such a caustic tone when they were clearly at fault, Wingard rolled his eyes heaven bound and silently prayed for patience.

“Child, your moronic ravings are unappealing, quite like the sputtering you’re now adopting. Can you not pull it together to apologize for your lack of observation rather than your flippant tone?”

Staring at her harshly, his golden eyes unblinking as he studied her, Wingard took a moment to wait for her response, all the while wondering how he was going to survive the winter surrounded by erupting volcanoes - the actual one was the least of his worries.

This was why he hated people.

[Azira]

The spluttering died as soon as she looked up. And up. Her mouth stayed hanging slightly open as she rocked back on her heels. The guy she'd walked into was easily more than a foot taller than her and broad too. He was bloody intimidating and the teen didn't know what to do. The huntress would have made some attempt at redeeming herself but once she got over the shock of his size (which only occupied her for a few ticks) she met his gaze, a sight that had reeling anew.

Gold, not like her eyes which she'd always thought of as being close, but proper Wind Eagle gold. The similarity with the gaze of a giant raptor was uncanny and she could only stare at him, blinking. Something in her brain told her that the similarity was too close for comfort and she found herself half expecting to be hurled from the mountain. She'd certainly earned his dislike.

Don't be a fool, he isn't an eagle! Of course he wasn't, she was just being silly. The Avora almost wanted to laugh aloud at her own stupidity but the realisation that he was only human brought relief to the little huntress. Now that her mind was focused, she was able to think clearly. A clear head led to anger very quickly.

"Did you just call me child?" she asked, her tone indignant. All sense of self-preservation had been thrown out of the nest. There was nothing she hated more than being looked down upon and just because he could do it literally, didn't give him the right to be so condescending. "Do I look like a child to you? Or is your observation as poor as mine?" she challenged, raising an eyebrow in question. The huntress was sure to get a whipping for this but it didn't matter to her right now. He'd pissed her off and she wasn't in the mood for apologising to him for anything. Presumably he'd been looking at her before she walked into him so it was his fault as much as hers. The idiot hadn't moved out of the way and she'd been distracted. What was his excuse?

The young woman crossed her arms and glared right back at him. Or rather up at him. Anybody who saw the pair of them would probably have a right laugh but Azira would be the main target of laughter. She was the short arse after all. "Just because you're taller than me, chick, doesn't make me a child. I could probably..." she stopped herself mid-sentence. She'd been about to say that she could take a good slash or two at him with her knife but that wouldn't do her any favours. She could do it, with the element of surprise on her side anyway, she'd done it to Marrin. Actually, the guy wasn't that huge. He was probably Marrin's height.

x

[Edric Wingard]

Smiling roguishly, the man leaned downwards slowly, removing a couple inches between them. A grin, so dark and threatening that it really shouldn’t have had a place occupying anyone’s mouth besides a sociopath, pulling at his lips all the while. His tone of voice was smooth and pleasant, caressing each syllable that left his mouth like warm, liquid chocolate. The lids of his eyes lowered as he did, Wingard ensuring that he was so close that they must have been inhaling one another’s carbon dioxide. His breath slipped across her heated skin, as anger tends to lead to splotchiness, and he was quite sure the contact steamed the air in between them.

He wanted to erase everything beyond the two of them. The Kelvic wanted to invade her space so fully that she would not have been able to think clearly beyond the panic of his overwhelming presence. His eyes were gleaming with his ill-intentions as her speech faded into nothingness; the obviously unfinished sentence being yanked away by rational thought. Grinning, he silently wondered what words had been intended as it was obvious that they were not going to be anything pleasant. Deciding that he would needle her further in order to gain what he wanted, Wingard lowered his voice to a whisper, “I’m sorry; Wind Eagle got your tongue?”

Pausing in order to gauge her reaction the man abruptly laughed callously when he received it before graciously returning her personal space. Stepping away, he tossed his head heavenward and released masculine guffaws that shook his unmanaged locks as he laughed. Grinning when the hysteria finished, he returned his gaze to the petite woman before him and couldn’t seem to remove any evidence of his merriment at her own expense. His eyes gleamed as he studied her, the golden orbs wide and wicked as he stared openly. Wingard most certainly could tell that she was a young woman; her petite, yet lithe body on display before him thanks to the Inarta’s inclination towards revealing clothing. He was sure that her beauty was often sought after by men, her small stature appealing to their masculinity, but just as he was positive that she attracted them, he was quite sure that she repelled them just as easily. Her rough exterior and frankly unattractive temper would be enough to curdle any man’s loins – let alone their confidence.

The eagle also figured that this woman being led by her waspish exterior was a common occurrence, and if the telltale wrinkle in her forehead that was beginning to form was any indicator, she most likely wore that rather sour expression as well. It was a pity then, that such a beautiful creature seemed to always be on the defensive, but alas, looks were just as much an asset as they were a burden and he figured since she was borne with them that by now, she would at least be used to it. It was because of this factor alone that Wingard referred to her as a child. It was obvious that she needed thicker skin so that she could carry out rational reactions rather than emotionally-driven ones. This vulnerability was tiresome to the Kelvic so redirecting his eyes back to her own in order to make it clear that yes, his observational skills were quite up to snuff, he spoke.

“A teenager in physical development stages, sure, but evidentially a child in maturity.”

Winking rather roguishly just to add to her ill-temperament, Wingard kept his face straight in false sincerity as he looked towards the Endal that seemed to be taking this all in with large smiles on their faces. Although he was disinclined to pity the young thing before him, he did see her as an individual and therefore, did not want others to perceive his sarcasm as an act for their cause. Nodding his head politely in recognition of his neighbours, the Kelvic offhandedly spoke to them, caressing the handle of his sword as he did so, “The skies look fit for flying. It would be a pity to not take advantage of them and relax in her embrace, no?”

Glaring them down with golden eyes, he watched as they stared at him with equal distain; muttered words spoken beneath their breath as they shuffled back into their aeries. They did not bother to address him, as he was merely an Avora hunter that was unbounded, but avoided conflict with him simply because of his Kelvic nature. Wind Eagles were known for their volatile emotions and the death they could bring by simply being aggravated, so the Endal figured it was best to back down from the armed man. After all, their weapons may only be ten steps away, but that creature’s were merely a tick of a transformation away, sword not included.

Watching as the men disappeared back into their aeries, Wingard redirected his attention back to the unknown woman again, his hand slipping from the handle of his sword as he waited for her to speak, his interest in this meeting about as high as his need to share body heat with his male Endal neighbours.

[Azira]

The man wasn't one to be messed with, that was clear, or rather that's what he seemed to think. The way he leaned close to her with that awful grin on his face made her feel slightly ill from fear, her heart quickening and her breath coming in slightly faster than before. Despite her terror of the stranger, her mouth still curled in disdain, the young woman leaning slightly away so as to avoid contact. She didn't want to touch him, that was for sure. Some presence of mind still remained, however as the huntress unfolded her arms, her movements slow, casual as she allowed her hands to drop to her sides. Her hunting knife was in easy range now should the need to use it arise. His attempts at intimidation had not succeeded in breaking through her defence but his words did.

The Avora blinked, the prior expression of contempt melting from her face to be replaced with blank surprise. How had he guessed her thoughts? There was no indication to suggest that she'd been comparing him to the eagles, nothing to give her thoughts away and yet he'd said that. Her head tilted ever so slightly to the side, her expression thoughtful and confused now that the surprise had worn off.

"Pardon?" That one little word, asked in a tone of confusion, broke the spell between them, the man beginning to laugh at her. Yes, it was at her, she was sure though she had no idea what he found so amusing. Her reply hadn't been in any way funny so he'd obviously had some nasty thought about her and was laughing aloud at it. All Azira could do was stare, dumb founded as he laughed at her expense. Her mind had failed her, no callous response came to mind, no cutting remark. He'd succeeded in hitting a sore spot though he didn't know it. He had no idea how much the other Yasi had laughed at her in her youth. Then as now, there was nothing she could really do about it.

When his laughter finally finished, her brain scrambled to come up with something to say but his gaze made her half formed thoughts splutter and die. That look! She never seen any man stare at her so openly at her before with a gaze quite so... intense. It made her take a hasty step back, more of a stagger, her eyes wide as she stared at him in horror. He hadn't touched her yet his stare felt like it was violating her, raking over every inch of her youthful form. The young woman just wanted to run and hide but her legs could hardly support her, the limbs shaky and uncontrollable beneath her. Her face had become flushed and her eyes had begun to sting, a fact that angered her in her humiliation. She wouldn't cry, it would be irrational, yet the urge to do so was strong as if tears would end the feeling of being stripped bare.

When he finished his appraisal, his eyes rising to meet hers the huntress looked away. Her gaze was directed downwards in a vain attempt to hide her tears as he spoke. Her words brought her eyes up to his for a moment just in time to catch the wink he shot in her direction before her gaze dropped again. The huntress had to bite her lip to try to control her emotions as the waves of hurt crashed over her. She couldn't even feel indignation at his words, the man having wounded her deeply in his crass assessment.

His comments shot in the direction of the Endal reminded her that she wasn't the only one present at her humiliation; there were other witnesses. That was too much for her already unstable emotions. A silent sob shook her body before she could stop it, the huntress battling to keep any more from making an appearance. It was futile however as another sob caused her body to go into spasm. The stranger had finished his intimidation of his audience and had now returned his attention to her. It was too much for her to bear so Azira dodged around him, her view of the floor blurred by the tears that were beginning to spill. The teen choked out the word, "bastard" before hurrying past him, desperate to escape his scrutiny.

x

[Edric Wingard]

For a brief tick, the man continued smiling, his lips quirking up at the corners in a rather satisfied grin as he watched her squirm, both figuratively and literally. Her whole form seemed to quiver with her initial rage; the slight tremors barely noticeable to the untrained eye as they overwhelmed her nervous system and led to the tension in her shoulders. Next, he was fascinated by the anger transforming into frustration as the quaking muscles soon began trembling as bitter tears filled her rather pretty eyes. He watched as his words tore away her confidence, knocking the wind out of her tyrannical sails so effectively that she was left stupefied for a moment before him. This brief tick of silence was rather liberating for Wingard as it signified his triumph in their little power game and his place above her. No, he was not one that regarded the caste system of Wind Reach as the defining aspects of one character – his neighbours were evidence enough that not all decent people were Endals – but this feeling of superiority stemmed entirely from his belief that he was a more capable person than she.

After all, was it not her that just ran off, tears spilling down her face like an ill-conceived waterfall? It was rather unsightly as she certainly didn’t seem to be the ‘pretty-as-they-cry’ type, but what annoyed the Avora more was the fact that she had utterly proven his point. Her childish response to his opinion had led her to running away like a kicked puppy, enforcing the fact that she seriously needed thicker skin. What he had said was nothing less than the truth and unfortunately due to the fact that he was completely incapable of sugar-coating his words, this slip of a woman now felt deeply wounded and took off up the mountain.

Sighing in exasperation, Wingard glanced over his shoulder to watch her figure move swiftly up the path, skirting around the protruding ledges rather frantically. Great. So not only was this chit crying, angered, potentially humiliated and some other collection of womanly emotions that he did not want to bother investigating deeply, she was also heading towards his home as well. Just petching lovely.

‘She better not contemplate taking up an occupation as a hermit up there.’ The Kelvic thought, his eyes heaven bound once again as he prayed for patience, because he most certainly did not want a new neighbour.

Tugging his scarf higher upon his chin, the young man turned around and began making his way back to his aerie, an irritated scowl slowly congregating upon his face. Considering that he had been standing still for a while, his recovering leg had seized up on him; the muscles tightening and straining as he began moving once again. Not liking the sensation at all and knowing that this up-hill climb was probably not doing him any favours, Wingard involuntarily felt his irritation writhe uncomfortably in his stomach. For a tick, he contemplated just transforming and flying the rest of the way home, but figured that removing his clothes only to have to place them back on in order to show her out would be too much of a chore and not worth the frostbite on his derriere.

So the indisposed soldier marched on, his gait irregular and pained as he trounced after the unknown woman up his bloody mountain.

At some point when he felt that she was determined to find the edge of the world and escape him there, Wingard finally decided that enough was enough – especially as they neared his own home. Picking up his pace, a wince of discomfort partnering his increased speed, the Kelvic called out rather sharply at the child, “Unless you plan on jumping off the cliff and flying, and in which case I am going to question your sanity, you do realize that it would have been more productive to escape downhill?”

Realizing that at this point, touching her would be an idiotic move, the eagle came to a slow stop some feet away from her; his weight shifted to one leg in order to accommodate his affliction. Realizing that she most likely would be volatile and potentially aggressive, even, the young man studied her carefully; sure that his enhanced sight would be able to give him a warning if this woman tried anything. Tilting his head sideways as he watched her body language, the eagle sighed tiredly, his visage pained and insufferable.

“And while we’re on the topic of ill-conceived plans: Running away from a harmless confrontation the moment someone speaks poorly about your character only proves my point. You, child, need thicker skin and I do not fancy you acquiring it by my lair. So move.”

[Azira]

Crying was something she hated. As far as Azira was concerned, crying made you seem weak, vulnerable. Well she was vulnerable, she just didn't like to admit it.

Moving further up the mountain rather than down, the huntress hoped to find the solitude that wouldn't be found in the Inner Warrens. She needed to get a grip on herself and she couldn't do that with people around her. It was humiliating enough that she'd pretty much burst into tears in front of that man (she was sure he was an Endal) but she didn't need the looks she'd receive in the Warrens for such behaviour. Gods forbid if anyone had taken pity on her... No, better not to think of that. She just needed to focus on stemming the flow of her tears, a difficult task as every time she wiped them away, new ones replaced them almost immediately. Her eyelashes clumped together in a soggy mess and there was nothing that Azira could do until she could actually stop the tears all together.

It took a few chimes of reassurance that she wouldn't come in contact with that man and his stare again before the young woman was able to put an end to her tears and try to get back to a reasonable state of emotion. She was aiming for apathy. The huntress didn't quite get there, instead left with the lingering emotions brought about by the encounter. Shame was one. Her tears were her own fault in a way. If she'd just apologised like a normal person instead of getting pissed off at his tone then she probably could have continued on her path without a second thought. But she wasn't normal, couldn't react like anybody else. Well Inarta were pretty much driven by their emotions but she did take it to extremes somewhat.

Her wandering had brought her further than she'd thought but that was all right, better to be away from other people for awhile. The young woman had ended up closer to the Aeries of the lone eagles than the homes of the Endals. The last thing she needed was a run in with an Endal right now but disturbing an eagle wouldn't do her any favours either so she moved further from the entrances and closer to the edge. It was a good thing that she wasn't afraid of heights because it was a long way down, not something that she liked to dwell on.

The uneven steps didn't register in her mind, the girl too distracted by her own thoughts of those strange golden eyes so when he spoke she jumped in fright, taking a step closer to the edge without thinking. The sight below made her dizzy and she had to take a few hasty steps back to stop herself from falling, only stopped when she felt the reassuring firmness of stone at her back. Her wide eyes found his as she tried to work out where he'd come from so suddenly and why he thought sneaking up behind her was a good idea.

"I wasn't planning on jumping, no but thanks so much for nearly making me splatter down there," she replied, her voice hoarse from crying. She couldn't even pull off sarcasm successfully now. She wasn't even sure if he took any notice of her as he lectured her, yes lectured her! on how she should have done things. The teen would have snapped back at him if a memory hadn't popped into her head, making her laugh instead. The sound surprised her and she wondered for a moment if it had come from her mouth. It had. It shouldn't have been so funny but he reminded her of herself. She'd had an annoying habit as a Yasi (and sometimes more recently) of lecturing people on how they ought to behave. She'd been about to snap at him for something she would have done in his place.

"As much as I hate to admit it, you sound very like me," she told him, the humour leaving her face as she spoke. "Though for the record, I'd prefer to get away from people when I'm like...that," she couldn't bring herself to say crying, "and going downhill would have meant the Warrens so that was a definite no. Also, you don't know anything about me so do refrain from giving me "advice" although you seem very eager to push it off on me," the huntress replied coolly. She was pleased that her emotions were reined in but she knew that it might only be temporary. Surprise flashed across her face then as she took in the last part of his words.

"Did you say your lair?" she asked, her voice a good octave higher than normal. No, he couldn't live up here because only the Wind Eagles did and he wasn't one despite his eyes. But she knew Wind Eagle Kelvics existed and she suddenly realised who, or rather what she'd stumbled into earlier. "Oh petch no, you aren't one of them! No wonder I thought you were going to- Shyke!" The young woman buried her face in her hands, shaking her head from side to side in denial. She could be wrong, just overreacting to his words but what other way could she interpret what he'd said?

"Oh wonderful! I might as well hurl myself off the mountain, save you and your brethren the bother," she laughed, a hysterical edge to the sound. His reaction would confirm her suspicions or allay them so she uncovered her face to look at him.

x

[Edric Wingard]

Wingard had just about had enough of this obnoxious, know-it-all chit that seemed to be tainting the air he was breathing in. Listening to her moronic ramblings about how he was responsible for her nearly pitching herself over the edge of the cliff would have been humorous if not for the fact that she seemed to actually believe it. Now, although he did not know of her field experience or talent as an individual, the young eagle had recognized that subtle drop of her hands and the easy access it would have provided if she had wanted to draw that wicked knife from her waist enough to realize that she must have had some semblance of instruction in hunting to warrant the action. Thus, if he were to extrapolate that information onwards, she must know of the importance of constant vigilance so it was her own fault that her observation skills were so bloody pitiful that she did not note the arrival of what he suspected sounded like a worn down mountain goat.

Either that or she was delusional. Regardless, the situation did not seem to be playing out in his favour and Wingard silently contemplated what the repercussions would be if he actually pushed her off the cliff. Rolling his eyes heaven ward as she seemed to continue on in her ramblings, he prayed to Syra for patience. If anyone had even a smidgen of a chance to alter his rather sour mood, it was the goddess of sun that beamed sweet warmth upon his skin. She seemed to be indifferent to his agony though so the young Kelvic regretfully drew his attention back to the raving lunatic in front of him. What was she going on about now? Similarities between them?

Staring at her wildly, the man’s lips contorted into a look of contempt. His chiseled face utterly affronted by her assumption that the two of them could even fall into the same class, let alone acknowledge a familiarity between the two of them, Wingard began to feel like she was slaughtering his father right in front of him. Even that, probably, would be less offensive than the shyke spewing from her mouth. His advice that he had given her was utterly warranted for her childish actions, and yet she had the gall to tell him off for attempting to assist her in fixing her obvious flaws. What was even the dollop of cream upon a sweet tart of irony was her then stating that he shouldn’t try and help her since he did not know her. Was her assumption about their similarity not the exact same thing? The woman most certainly did not know him as an individual and yet she thought it was enough to reference to in order to label them the same?

Frowning in annoyance at the hypocrisy and illogic, the rapture tried his hardest not to curl his lips in disgust and point out another obvious flaw in her character. At this point, he was pretty sure that he was going to kick her off the cliff with enough force for her to land in Lhavit, but the man refrained himself – remembering that although he was an animal, he didn’t necessarily have to act like one. Running his fingers through his hair instead, Wingard roughly scratched at the contour feathers that decorated the one side of his head as she continued speaking, not exactly paying attention to what she was saying. It was obvious to him that it could not have been important, considering that everything thus far from her mouth was not, but he did pick up her not-so-subtle gasp and callous laugh as some type of epiphany seemed to hit her.

Ah, yes. The pretty little thing realized what he was. He watched with a rather joyous expression as surprise flashed across her face initially before it was quickly joined by brief, overwhelming hysteria at her situation. It seemed that the little twit finally realized how precarious her situation was. Smiling rather nicely at her, Wingard could only allow a small hint of his pleasure to shine through as she sarcastically offered herself as a sacrifice to their gods.

“It isn’t a common fact, but we are entirely too lazy. If you wouldn’t mind, we’d really appreciate it.”

Grinning boyishly as he waited for her response, the young man went about rubbing his leg unconsciously as they stood in the cold. It was beginning to stiffen up due to its exposure to the chilled winds and Wingard knew that as soon as this ‘encounter’ was taken care of, he’d be sweeping himself away for a nice long, hot soak in his bath. Preening at the idea, the eagle ruffled his feathered head once more before deciding to take the reins on this whole ordeal, “Yes, yes, chit, I’m ‘one of them.’ Considering that you don’t even have the propriety to refer to them as individuals rather than a collective group of lepers, I can only assume that you are also not worthy of their attention nor time either. Respect is rather necessary in order to create a bond and since you seem to not even bother with that, it is no wonder you’re unfamiliar with the aeries. Otherwise, I’d know you face, and little dear, I don’t. “

Pausing here to stare her down, Wingard once again closed the distance between the two of them in order to get his point across that he did not appreciate her careless reference to his colony. Each of those eagles were family to him, and for her to callously rope them together with such a tone would not be acceptable to the Kelvic, especially on his front porch.

“Now, chit. Before I decide that I am no longer interested in you, because this conversation was utterly needless to begin with, please provide me with your name so that I may initiate a cordial goodbye in good faith to my people. I am Wingard, madam.”

Yes, his tone was so sweet it stuck like caramel; all over one’s skin as he returned her space and fell into a graceful bow paired with a sarcastic elegance.

[Azira]

She'd offended him, that much was obvious but she had no idea what she'd done to cause such a reaction. Her mind played quickly back over the conversation but could find nothing offensive in her words.

It isn't the first time, I've offended someone for seemingly no reason. He's part bird, or he's something like one, and they hate me anyway so is it that surprising? she wondered, frowning. The Kelvic seemed to provide her with the reason, one she never would have guessed but it was one that she saw little point in getting offended over. They were a group, a colony, yes? It was a plural, a collective word she'd used and as for her tone, well... when you respected something to the point of awe and fear, did you mention a name or did you just sort of assume that someone would know what you were talking about? It was the way that people avoided Zulrav's name now, he was only really referred to as him. It wasn't disrectful, quite the opposite in fact. Well, Azira knew what she thought about the matter and if he didn't agree with her reasoning then what could she do?

His attack on her lack of bonding was one that hit home. It was something she felt keenly and it wasn't her fault. She'd never disrespected a Wind Eagle, never and yet there was that near instant distrust of her. Maybe she let off some hostile signal that she wasn't aware of when in their presences. It wasn't fair for him to say such a thing but it was designed to hurt and it did. What had she said to offend him so?

His invasion of her space was only a minor nuisance, one that she didn't shy or flinch away from for once. Her brain was too busy trying to formulate something she could say that made sense and was a valid defence before her mouth could run away from her. It had an awful habit of doing that and it wouldn't be so bad if it didn't cause so much havoc.

Licking her lips, she met his gaze steadily, hard as it was as he moved from her space once more. "Well, Wingard, I wasn't trying to offend you, or any of the Eagles in the colony by the use of a collective. I could try to explain but I'd only say the wrong thing," the huntress told him, her voice even and unhurried, each word chosen with care for once. If she talked like this all the time, she'd never get a chance to say anything but right now, it was important that she be civil. "I apologise for bumping into you earlier and for my... reaction. I haven't been having a very good time lately, not that that's an excuse but it did contribute to my ill-temper and my... rudeness." 'Rudeness' was a mild way of describing her behaviour but she wasn't going to speak too badly of herself.

The teen ran a hand through her braids, a nervous gesture made as she tried to think of what more to say. Whether or not, there was more to say, she didn't know. She doubted she could redeem herself in his eyes but she could at least prevent causing any more offence. Well, she hoped so anyway.

"I'm Azira," the teen replied, nodding respectfully at him before moving past him to walk down the path, muttering about having reasons for not coming to the Aeries. "Oh by the way, if there's something wrong with your leg, I'd choose the Infirmary over pride if I was you. My observation isn't completely shot," she called back over her shoulder.

x

[Edric Wingard]

The rapture watched her quietly, his lips pursed into a soured look of concentration as she justified her previous comments about his colony. He studied her features as they morphed so openly through an array of emotions as she spoke, the obvious way she tasted her words prior to releasing them into the open air an easy indication of her hesitance to speak her mind around him any longer. This insecure language both pleased and annoyed the man; his arrogant side preening over the fact that she finally recognized the precarious position she was in and the power of the individual she was dealing with, while his other side, the one that thrived on challenges and condescension, grinded its teeth together. Prior to the moment when she realized how volatile her situation was, his temper and identity kept well under wraps, this little chit was lively with energy and ill-conceived anger that ignited his blood and set his senses on fire. Her reckless nature screamed confidence and self-assurance, her unwillingness to bend even though she knew she was at fault egging on his need for a challenge and victory. His Inartan side wanted her to fight and push him; it wanted her to annoy him so thoroughly that he was ready to kick her off the mountain or bring her to tears so that she remembered the authority he had.

It seemed in some ways then, that he had made his point. Her sudden submission threw the Eagle for a loop and it took him a moment to recover, his bow broken and rigid as he returned to his full height. She kept her eyes cast away from him as an apology he recognized as sincere slipped from her mouth in a quiet word. He noted, with some satisfaction that she seemed to be choking out the words forcefully, displaying that although she was acquiescing to his superiority, she really did not feel like the war was over. She was forfeiting the battle, yes, but she was not showing her white flag to their later encounters. Nodding his head with some approval, Wingard contemplated her figure as he mulled over her justification for her generalized grouping of his people. He did not feel like her tone was that of reverence, but rather one of sarcastic irony over her situation which was why he displayed his ire so readily. Regardless if she was the blunt end of her own joke, his fellow Eagles should never be laughed at so callously, and it was those thoughtless reactions that spurred his anger and waspish comments.

Realistically, Wingard did not accept her apology. He valued the spoken word about just as much as he valued his neighbour – which wasn’t much. Actions beseeched language and he viewed those far more attentively than what she was saying to him. Inwardly, the man figured this was probably why he did not get along with others very often since he tended to ignore their thoughts and mindless chatter, but it was a system that worked well for him. Words could lie, but the body – more oft than not – was capable of telling the truth. He recognized intentions in the eyes of man, he noted their confidence through their slumped shoulders, crossed arms, and bent knees. He watched without words as every day, man passed one another and interacted, spurning the lower castes or whoever they felt were inferior. He even witnessed when a woman, so unknown and of little consequence to him, get harassed merely because of her gender and beauty, cower before those she knows are better than she.

It annoys him greatly, this inability to feel the same about oneself regardless of what company one is in, and for a moment Wingard wishes that he could sympathize with such behaviour, but he cannot. The Kelvic does not see the point in altering his speech or actions when others that are far better than he are present. He is who he is; his thoughts will never alter and his mouth will never stop spilling truths upon the unworthy because although he may be lesser than many, Wingard is far above them in the one aspect of life that matters – honesty. Truth is hard to come by, he knows, and he would rather be hated and ostracized for stating his opinion openly, rather than behind cupped palms and smiling facades.

She’s walking by him, he notes, introducing herself in an offhanded manner that again incites annoyance within the Kelvic. Does she not value herself enough to do so properly? He ‘tsks’ inwardly at such a notion, feeling some inner disappointment at the end of their game. Yes, he is happy she recognizes the victor, but it is his hypocritical self that wishes she would stop being so weak. Shaking his head at such turbulent thoughts, Wingard knows it is best to let such a complicated creature go and waves off her concern for his handicap for what he knows it to be – an apology and parting shot.

“I have gone already, Azira,” he states, saying her name in order to show that this catty behaviour is too exhausting for his etiquette, “This is the result of treatment and slow mending.”

He stares at her back for a moment, contemplating, before spitting out final advice before he disappears into his aerie to rest his leg, “Submission is not becoming on you, huntress. You wear mulishness far better.”

The darkness of his home comforts his fatigued eyes and Wingard heads towards his bedroll to rest, disregarding an explanation for his rather cryptic words. People were tiring and this person was tired.

He sighs – his leg was sore.

EXITS THREAD.

OOCI believe it is best to leave it there. Please let me know when you'd like to further their relationship in another thread. It's been a pleasure.