Closed Playing Games with the Game.

[Medhozic]

The deer was slipping away from between his fingers. There wasn't much hope left. But just when he'd just about surrendered his catch to whatever god had drawn it into the rapid waters, he found the girl tying together a makeshift rope out of her other spare clothes. It was quite a spectacle.. though of course, not the brightest because she'd have nothing to change into after all of this was over. He'd have to make a fire after all this to cook the meat and she'd be welcome to use it, even if there wasn't any guarantee that it'd completely dry her clothes if she truly intended on dragging out a bleeding, soaked wet deer using them. But at least she was trying something, unlike him. He was almost worried that she was going to get swept away by the currents if the weight of the deer combined with the water became too much - it would have been difficult to explain if anyone asked about a girls disappearance in the Bronze Woods about the same time as he went off hunting. Ethaefal weren't exactly loved in Syliras. But all the same, he never uttered a word. Just pinched his lips into a tight line as he observed the struggles that she was willing to go through to save his drowning meal. Even though she was nearly risking her life in doing so. "That sounds good. I'm coming now." He shouted the words but he still wasn't sure how to cross the rivers to get to her - he couldn't swim it, the rivers had looked dangerous enough when the deer had fallen in and struggled to keep its head above the rapids - he certainly didn't want to die in the same way as his prey. Hunter and hunted, overcome by nature.. the thought was almost gross. And he couldn't climb it, because the branches of the trees on both sides left a large gap that he'd inevitably fall into - if he managed to even cross out that far without falling in and drowning. But, if he could find a tree or just a branch and cut it down with his kopis - it was made for cutting down large amounts of foliage anyway - then he could use that as a bridge. He hated to leave her alone with the meat, but it needed to be done. "Just wait the-" He'd barely begun before she suddenly slipped down into the water and began wading across to the middle. And she'd most likely seen that deer die, too. Something that he could never have even considered.. yet she gritted her teeth and simply went on with it. Astonishing, although slightly worrying at the same time. Just as she was emerging again, he made a final call before turning back to the forest in search of something to form a makeshift bridge from. "You should have thrown the other end to this side." There was nothing. Nothing at all that he could use, it seemed - all of the branches that he found, as he passed through the shallows of forest on the side of the river, were spindly and far too weak or small. Winter had ravaged most of them and the cold turned their bark brittle. He had to climb a tree cautiously, digging his nails into the bark and struggling up the thick trunk before eventually finding a spot safe enough to draw the kopis from its hold and slam it into the base of one of the thicker branches lower down. It didn't budge much, but that was a good sign - several more and it creaked, before falling to the ground with a dull thump. He soon followed, though he landed on his shoulder. When he dragged it back to the river, it seemed just about large enough - the banks were slightly elevated above the water level, so at least it wouldn't fall away by currents. Still, it took a lot of careful balancing, and he even had to hold his arms out at their sides to avoid falling into the freezing water. Even then, he stumbled onto the other bank and nearly tripped over himself. But he didn't have time to celebrate his victory over nature. "Hand me the rope, now." Or makeshift rope. It didn't matter.

[Oriah]

When she glanced up at the much clearer, and much closer voice of the hunter, Oriah's mouth hung just a little open.

He was unlike anything she had ever seen. Could her eyes be playing tricks, or was there truly one of Syna's fallen standing there on the other side of the Avitar. Granted, the Benshira had heard of Eths during her childhood and along her travels. Elaborate, grand tales full of sorrow and endless tests of faith used to teach youths the value of remaining loyal to their god. Living in the Eyktol meant her kind were just as subject to the wills of Yahal as those of Syna, so such stories remained close to heart despite their loftier origins.

But, to see one in person in their divine form? And to be the only thing presently keeping his dinner from being washed away by the currents?

Well, Syna take me if this isn't worth a bit of cold and hardship.

"I c-couldn't," she responded to his suggestion through clattering teeth. "I-It's t-too short."

Oriah watched with apprehension as the hunter began searching for a way to cross the river. How would he do it? Would he succeed? Wait, where is he going...

Blessed Yahal, he was climbing a tree. And now, slamming his blade into a branch over and over until it thunked onto the ground. The irony of the act was not lost on her, reminded all the more by bruises beginning to ache along her back and limbs, even as she huddled at the banks, trying not to think about frostbite. Her boots were in reach, but the strain of keeping the carcass anchored was growing and she did not want to risk losing against the unrelenting pull of the river.

It was nerve wracking just tracking his progress across the rushing waters and creaking branch. Several times, she could have sworn he was done for. But, with a few more harrowing ticks of balancing acts, he finally made it onto dry land again. Relief washed over her, followed quickly by a spurt of alarm and awe.

Oriah handed him the end of the Ramie rope and scooted a bit back so the pale, marble skinned Eth could take over the brunt of the task. While he adjusted himself, she scrambled to put back on her boots, button up her coat, and clear up her possessions so they had room to drag the beast out. Then she returned in hopes she could be of some help with the laborious process.

For a moment, the Benshira hesitated, noting the curious green horns that curved back along his pale, brown hair. Ethaefal. Mystical, beautiful, and just about the last living thing she would have expected to encounter in the Bronze Woods.

"Perhaps we should pull at the same time," she suggested. It was a large creature, made twice as heavy by its wet, matted fur, and neither the Eth nor Benshira were built for mass. They would need every ounce of strength they possessed to drag the catch out of its watery grave.

Oriah crouched by the banks and wrapped cold fingers around even colder Ramie. "One, two, three, heave!"

[Medhozic]

As he took over the weight, it soon became obvious just how close he was, to losing the deer. It strained with all the life of one that was alive and young, bucking against the currents and tugging heavily on the makeshift rope. If any of the knots were not fastened properly, it'd be done for.. but, he supposed, he could place trust in the girl for now. She'd given no reason to not do otherwise, although that didn't mean that he could still trust her with anything much more, yet. If not for the last few scraps of mud still holding the beast down, it would be gone. He pulled and pulled against the rushing waters but all that managed was to sink his feet into the dirt of the bank, but not budge the deer an inch. At least the girl had an idea.. and when she proposed it, he turned to her with a nod. "That sounds wise." And on her mark, he set one foot further back and pulled with all of his might, as she did. And suddenly, the deer was free. And it seemed to have almost doubled in weight - hard as it may have sounded. The Ethaefal could only grit his teeth as his arms, shoulders, back and legs all ached from the exertion.. but the girl had pulled it off with her plan. Although the water constantly pushed it down, it swung easily from side to side and soon pushed far enough against the bank that he felt that he could reach down and pluck it from the waters. Except.. he couldn't let go, else the thing would disappear well before he'd even be able to bend down. They needed something else.. petch, this was going to take forever. In the time it'd taken to get this far, he could have tracked, stalked, killed, skinned and cooked his deer, and probably be half-way back to the castle whistling a merry little tune. Except he was here instead, glancing back and forth in search of something.. until he found a rather large rock, far too smooth to be used as an anchor, and grimaced. "We need to switch places." There was nothing else to it. "Unless you fancy dragging that deer out." Slowly, the rope was lifted just a little higher.. high enough that he could slip under it while still pulling, enough to keep the force off the Benshira. And then, hand-over-hand, he moved closer and rolled the excess into one fist. And moved the free hand down, quick as a striking snake, to seize the side of its head and quickly drag it further onto the shore, and up onto the bank. By now, his breathing was very labored. There was only one thing he could manage to say, in fact. "I'll get a fire going.."

[Oriah]

Teeth grit in mammoth effort and concentration, Oriah worked with the Eth hunter grip by grip, dragging forth the Ramie one inch at a time. It was hard work and the precarious position of the beast filled her mind with apprehension. One wrong move and it would have all been for naught.

She almost wept with relief when the prey appeared close enough to touch, but they were not done. Someone still had to grab the beast and pull it completely out of the water. Oriah would have taken to the task, but she doubted she had enough strength left to haul the carcass onto dry land. Voicing her thoughts, the hunter stated they should switch places and referred to the animal as a "deer." The Benshira tucked away this nugget of information and worked in tandem with him to reposition themselves.

Once he was within reach of the deer, the Eth struck out his hands with lightning speed and grabbed it by the head, dragging it up onto the banks. Oriah dropped the wet Ramie from her burning hands and plopped down on her rear in exhaustion. Blessed Yahal, that was painful.

The girl nodded through a haze of weariness, panting too heavily to speak as her new acquaintance announced he would start a fire. Warming herself by crackling flames seemed the most blissful thing possible at the moment. Though the exertion had warmed parts of her body, her bottom half was wet and growing clammy in the Winter air, and her hands were all but made of ice.

As the hunter busied himself with his new task, Oriah crawled over to sit on her haunches and stare at the dead deer. It had been a pretty thing in life, its doe eyes and fawn pelt delicate in their own rights. The Benshira found herself comparing it to one of the many sheep she had herded in her childhood. She'd never relished the deed when the time came to sacrifice one of her charges, but it was easier to kill the older sheep than it was the lambs. As delicious as they tasted, the younglings always managed to worm their way into her heart.

This deer reminded her of the sweet lambs. It had a bit of their look in its eyes and face, though it was clearly older and much more elegant in appearance. Well, maybe not so much now, Oriah thought to herself. Its fur was matted heavily with water, though it seemed most of the blood had been washed away in the river. She wondered how the hunter planned on lugging it back to the city, but decided to save that question for later.

Instead, the Benshira huddled closer and watched him work for a few chimes before saying, "I am Oriah, by the way, of the Eyktol deserts." She peered at him, then asked tentatively, "What is your name?"

[Medhozic]

He wasted no time, while the girl relaxed. His kopis was soon drawn and the Ethaefal repeatedly slashed into the nearest tree to work a heavy branch off the lower portion and catch it with his free hand. Leaves were left on, but the same blade hacked repeatedly into the body to chop it into smaller pieces and arrange them carefully in a small pile. A touch of roots growing from the cold soil over the top to help get the fire running, and he soon sat down with his flint and stone from his backpack to begin creating a few measly sparks. But out of the corner of his vision, he could see the girl staring at the dead creature. Hard as it sounded since he'd killed the thing himself, he understood what she felt by the expression on her face, wide eyes.. yes, he understood all too well. And offered a small piece of advice. "Don't look at it." He glanced up briefly, but never stopped shedding layers of flint. "It is better to remember that it suffers its life for ours. There is nothing to save it from the inevitable." It was how he coped. Though he wouldn't tell her that. Instead, he had more pressing matters to concern himself with. Especially as one of the sparks began to sizzle over the small cluster of roots and burn with faint trails of smoke that spread with gentle breaths, spreading further over the vegetation until it burned with a faint glow. A few more roots sprinkled atop, to help it grow further, and he turned back to the girl over the rising smoke. "You may call me Medhozic." It was as close as he had ever found to a name so far, that he could call himself. Something that had a ring to it. "I am sure that you know where I am from, however." He wouldn't spell that out at least. But he didn't have time to bask in front of the fire, and neither did he have time to talk and meander about old lives and new ones. The deer still stood, stagnant and attracting insects. He needed to cook it and rid it of any parasites, and store it away. So he rose, languidly, and purposefully left plenty of open space for the Benshira girl to relax herself and the rope that he soon unwound from around the fallen deer's stomach and handed to her. Then came the messy part. "You may wish to look away." His back still covered his work as he raised the curved blade and slammed it unceremoniously into the carcass, beginning to edge away the fur and the skin from the body. It wasn't exactly clean.. but he had notable experience in hunting and skinning the creatures that he came across in the woods, and a single sheet of fur and skin began to form as he eased the kopis between the muscle of the things back, working steadily up towards the neck and down the sides. Blood may have washed away into the water, but it retained itself in the muscle and other parts.. but now it dribbled out over the floor and mixed with the soil and the water.. and it stank. Even then, when he reached the head of the creature, he wasn't done. He still had to raise the blade again and slam it into the spot just above where the fur had been eased away from, to decapitate he corpse and remove the useless head. It'd be a sacrifice - for the wolves, in case they caught scent of the meat. To keep them away from the two while they warmed their bodies before heading back to the castle. For now, he tossed it into the forests with as much strength as his arm could manage.

[Oriah]

As the fire slowly began waking with life, Oriah inched closer, eager to feel its warmth. Medhozic. Certainly a name she had never heard before, for a race she had never seen before, until now. Fitting, in a sense.

The Eth hunter was clearly a man of few words as he moved from the crackling fire to the deer's carcass. Unwinding the makeshift rope, he handed it to her, which she accepted gratefully. He then suggested she look away and she did. Oriah was no stranger to skinning and cooking animal parts, but this deer was large. Larger than anything she had ever had a hand in preparing. And it had seemed oddly sentient--more so than most beasts of the forest, next to wolves and eagles--in life. It made her a little uncomfortable for some reason and she busied herself with drying her wrinkled clothing.

Fortunately, Ramie was quick to absorb and even quicker to dry. And, she didn't have to worry about it growing mold due to the dampness. But just to be safe, Oriah wrung each article of clothing out anyway and hung them on various sticks she'd foraged by the fire. They stood like little, funny shaped guests around the flames. She imagined them chattering idly amongst on another, lamenting how dreadful their recent ordeal had been.

Hack. Oriah cringed as the hunter's blade sank into the deer's body once more. Except this time she had the distinct feeling he was try to detach something. Her suspicions were confirmed with a twisting feeling in her stomach as he tossed the deer's lifeless head into the forest. Likely to ward off other predators, she noted to herself.

After a while, the Benshira began to grow a bit nauseated from the stench of the carcass. She got up and decided she ought to offer her help. Perhaps things could get finished faster with an extra pair of hands, and the sooner that happened the sooner they would not have to smell so much blood and be able to return to the city sooner.

Oriah knelt by the deer, a hand on her Tamos. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

[Medhozic]

For once, something penetrated that thin veil of blank indifference that the Ethaefal constantly strove to uphold even in the most taxing of conditions. Mainly because he had never met one that would be so eager to assist - the girl had done so much already, and yet she still wished to help cutting up a carcass that she seemed to detest so much. It was simply astonihing - the majority, vast majority of Kelvics and Humans that seemed in excess around the Bronze Woods and the Syliran cityscape were, in his well-rounded experience of them, rude and rather ignorant the majority of the time. Many had little to absolutely no understanding of helping another for gain, and some were actually rude and childish enough to try and challenge him. All had done so for naught, though. That was the only constant that he upheld. All of those blasted Kelvics that thought it right to laugh at him soon found themselves faced with near-death situations, caused at their own hand. Those that saw it fit to bully and harass him, soon found themselves on the end of an arrow. It was the way of things, and one of the main reasons that he wished to leave the place - not that he did not enjoy such a city. It's knights, it's trade, it's architecture.. no no, it was all beautiful, much more so in his eyes than Ravok from whence he had emerged. But its inhabitants were another matter entirely. And he'd barely known many others than these. To find a girl, and technically a foreigner like him in a new and uncomfortable land, who could put the entire city to shame in a matter of bells.. well. "If you wish to help, the deer will need to be cut into pieces. These will be cooked over the fire, to make sure that no more blood will leak from them during the travels back to Syliras. It will make things less messy." As he spoke, the skin of the deer was carefully rolled up into a thin tube and stored away in the bag that sat open and ready, not to far from the fire. "Once the deer is cooked, I will take it back to Syliras. You are more than welcome to accompany me." He meant it sincerely - it wasn't even an exchange any more. Even if the girl had been met on some random occasion, without reliance needed to keep his meal, he would have taken her there. Perhaps there was hope for Syliras yet. Or, perhaps, there was hope for him, if he could find this place. "Are all people from the Eyktol Deserts as helpful as you." He spoke with a quiet rapture, glancing up to her occasionally.. which just made the long curtain of black hair that the Ethaefal held fold away from his horns and slowly draw over his face. And he certainly couldn't brush it back with blood-stained fingers. Petch. He had to flick his head back in order to try and move it into place, except some small strands still hung at odd angles across his forehead. These, he tried blowing on fiercely to push them away.. but they kept sticking!

[Oriah]

It was rather engrossing, in a morbid sort of way, watching him roll up the deer skin with nimble fingers like it was nothing more than a parchment or blanket. The whole process was so neat and careful that it hardly seemed gruesome. Things had been a bit sloppier in the desert, due to the heat and rushed nature of their nomadic lifestyle. As the hunter tucked the tube into his pack, she thought of what it might feel like to be skinned and shuddered. At least the deer was dead.

Oriah nodded at his instructions and, upon hearing his offer, bowed her head unthinkingly in a traditional gesture of gratitude. "That would be much appreciated," she responded in kind, then unsheathed her Tamos to begin the grisly work of stripping the prey's meat.

The Benshira began sawing away at flesh and tendons, glancing to the side now and then to ensure she was more or less following Medhozic's motions. She tried to cut hers roughly the same size as his, wondering how long it took to cook deer meat.

It was in the midst of their grueling task that he surprised her with a rather complimentative question--the closest thing to social warmth and curiosity the hunter had displayed thus far in their unexpected encounter. Oriah peered up at him, taking a momentary break from de-fleshing, and fought to hide her amusement at the miniature spectacle before her. He was trying to blow at his disobedient hair, but it stuck to faint bloodstains smeared across his forehead and wouldn't budge. Even in this, the Eth looked graceful, though she imagined he likely felt embarrassed all the same.

Her own hands were sticky with blood, rendering them useless in his plight. "Try your sleeve," she offered, rubbing at her own, unruly locks with the back of her coated arm to demonstrate. It wasn't the perfect solution, but perhaps it would suffice until they could wash their hands in the river.

"And certainly," she spoke in response to his earlier question, returning to the cooling meat before her. "Those of us who aren't, die, or are scolded and shunned until we are. It is a simple fact of life in the deserts; the only way we survive is through working together. Out there, it is shameful for anyone to be useless, and even more so for anyone to be selfish, even in the city where Syna's touch is less loving."

Oriah sawed off one end of another chunk of flesh and laid it aside on a steadily growing pile. She hesitated for a moment, wondering whether she ought to ask of his origins. In the end, she chose not to, fearing such inquiries would evoke unpleasant memories.

For now, she simply asked, "What brings you here into the Bronze Woods? Do you live somewhere in the city?"

[Medhozic]

He couldn't saw off pieces like her - the blades curved edge was not for sawing or carving, but hacking. Rough, and rather wet slaps punctuated every harsh slam into the body of the deer, cutting away rough-shaped cubes of meat that slid off slowly and tumbled to the ground - joints were even worse, as he had to expose the joints with quick slams of the kopis, before repeatedly chopping away at the ligaments until they fell free and the limbs fell loose to the ground next to the rest of the odd balls of flesh. After finding himself left with no other alternative, he simply left the hair in its place, and wrinkled his nose at the very thought of soiling his sleeves with blood just for the sake of a few chimes of discomfort lost. "My clothes are my image. I will not destroy them." It was an ideal that he could see few others embraced - the idea that ones clothes was their image, and that even a homeless man in clean, well-pressed clothes would be treated with respect. He always made sure that he kept his clothes clean, every part of his image as well-pressed as possible. It was one of the few things, after all, that separated him from the humans. Benshira seemed to be different from the humans though. Very different. The humans that he'd met, well, they were just working for personal gain. Some were more affable than others admittedly - but the vast majority were not. He'd grown to distrust many of them. They had distrust in him. It was a tenuous relationship after all, but one that he liked. They would not kill him and in return, he would not kill them.. all would be well until one of them made a stupid decision, and he was betting that it would be the humans to make that one. However, the few Benshira that he'd met, well they weren't in for any personal gain. The idea of their generosity was fantastic.. however, their 'working together' policy was something he'd skip. "It sounds nice. Apart from the idea of helping each-other. I do not like relying on others, it gives them too much power. Trust is the first step to betrayal." He knew that first-hand, all too well, unfortunately. Not in every detail but in memory, it was sealed as a turning point of his life.. lives. "Of course, that does not mean that I am selfish. I give as much as I can afford, when I must. And I am not useless." Ultimately, though, it would all be for his own gain. If he needed, ever, to work with someone else to gain the daily meat, well then he'd do it, much as he had today. But then, he had to set his curiosity aside. It was the girls turn to ask the questions and he would answer them.. to the best of his ability, of course. "I am a hunter. Food is always in need, and mostly in supply.. this unpleasant winter has unfortunately made hunting difficult." As he spoke, he gestured with one free blood-stained hand to the snow all around them, speckled with blood in some places.. and the icicles hanging from the empty skeletons of trees. "But I have managed.. mostly." Sparse food always drove the herbivores out further.. and therefore carnivores. Sure, there were less of them than usual.. but spring would cheer everything up, without a doubt. "I live in Stormhold Castle and come out to the woods on most days that I can manage, to try my hand at catching deer and other game. I will need the experience for when I leave Syliras." Then, he turned his face up to the girl after gathering up the pieces of deer meat and skewering them, one at a time, on a sturdy branch plucked from above, held out over the open fire to cook. "You may want to try and keep your clothes off the snow and close to the flames while you tell me why you are here, and not in the deserts." Strange, he must have thought, to come from deserts to winter wonderlands unless one had a particular distaste for the heat and Syna's rays.

[Oriah]

Oriah glanced up at the hunter in surprise; concern for his clothing and image was about the last thing she had expected of him, given his profession. But, she supposed, if one possessed the immaculate beauty of The Fallen, one would be well aware of it amongst those of plain, ordinary conditions. It must be one of their few links to their former lives, the girl wondered to herself. A bit like my drum and sling, except he wears his relics all the time.

Then the hunter spoke of his dislike of relying on others, which further spurred her curiosity. A world without trust...she couldn't imagine it, not even for a tick. After all, faith was the crucible of everything Yahal stood for, and in turn, of everything she lived for as well. Without faith, without trust, she would be utterly alone, never to have known the good people of Syliras. Altaira, with her anxious but compassionate heart; Xira, the bravest courier she'd ever known; Old Kevith and his kindly wife; Marrick...

Oriah shivered a little at the thought. It would be a cold world, and an even colder life. And she had about as much tolerance for Winter as a flake of snow for Summer.

She listened as the Eth continued explaining himself, each word allowing her to form a more plenary understanding of his way of life. Medhozic was practical. A survivor, who did what was necessary, and no more, no less. The lack of nonsense and frivolity around him reminded her much of someone she had met many, many seasons ago. But the similarities ended there. Where the aspiring harlot had been single-mindedly focused on learning, the Ethaefal hunter was single-mindedly focused on surviving. Like two sides of a coin, she mused to herself.

At his suggestion that she keep her clothes away from the snow, Oriah balked for a moment, so lost in their work and conversation that she hadn't realized they were all but finished. Edging towards the river, she rid her hands as well as she could of the deer's blood and returned to huddle by the fire. He was cooking the meat now, and it was starting to emit a rather enticing smell into the cold, Winter air.

The Benshira sighed at the warmth of the fire and wiped her dagger against the snow, answering his following question as she did. "It's a long story," she replied, glazed eyes reflecting the dancing flames as her mind wandered through old, faded memories. "but here is how it began."

"I had another half, once. But she died, having betrayed Yahal's teachings. And I lived, having upheld them. After her death, I became obsessed with re-interpreting all that our god wished for us to live by. Our morals, our beliefs, our very ways of existence. My elders did not like it, and their disapproval only grew as I did. But Yahal had marked me with his favor, and even through my ceaseless queries it did not fade from my back. So, one day, I decided I would do what would benefit us all the most. I left."

Oriah held her dagger up near the fire, watching the sheen of water on its silver surface shrink against the heat. "It didn't take long for me to realize I could still serve my god while I searched for the answers I sorely needed. And now, here I am. Suffering Winters that are worse than the bleakest of nights in the desert, and cooking deer in the middle of the woods, with a hunter whose kind I have never before met until now."

She thought of Sera Mora then, the phantom guardian of the seemingly endless wilderness that surrounded the shining city. Was her patron out here somewhere, watching them? Tracking their movements? It was unnerving, to say the least, but there was nothing more she could do than try to prove herself a worthy squire.

A thought struck her at his earlier words, and Oriah looked up at the Eth. "Why are you leaving Syliras?" she asked plainly, then added, "And do you ever feel...lonely out here, with no one to trust or rely on?"

She wondered if Sera Mora might treat such solitude the same as Medhozic, and awaited his answer with eager ears.