[Priskil's Pond+] A Quick Dip (Private)

[Nil'kayn]

Kayn saw Erato's gasp her body recoil. He felt a pang in his chest, it hurt him that the woman treated him so. He glanced down at himself and smiled relief washing over his body; he must look fearsome as he stood covered in blood, the creatures carcass to one side. This made him proud, he liked to feel strong and feared, even though there was nothing to fear. He smiled, "I must look an awful mess don't I." He kicked the corpse with his foot, "This beasty attacked me in the woods as I was walking. Bugger bled all over me as I carried his corpse; his final insult." His smile widened, but then he heard a sound from the man; spoken word. He listened; frowning. He's a smooth one he is, spindly and smooth. Makes me think of a spider. Kayn shuddered at the thought, he hated spiders, they creeped him out. She would make a fine Nakivak on the other hand. You should squish him while we've got the chance and take her. No. I will not take a woman against her will. Besides who knows? This man may be an ally. Or he may pretend to be an ally. Kayn refused to answer, but the doubt clawed at his mind. The spider-man then turned glancing at him. He spoke smooth words, nice to the ear, but Kayn could tell there was more to it than meets the eye. His face returned to a smile, "Well you are welcome to journey with us." He crouched down glancing over the animal, without glanceing up from his inspection he addressed them, "Either of you ever seen a beast like this? Do you guys know how to cook it?"

[Erato]

Erato didn’t know if she had an answer, and if she did, speaking it was out of the question. Under normal circumstances, Erato might have smirked at the slave reference and given her disdainful glare at the idea of allowing a stranger to be her shelter and her guard. But this wasn’t the time for that. Her eyes had long fallen from Nilkayn, not even daring to look directly at Devmond, yet the blood phantom remained in her sight. She realized for the first time that she had never witnessed such blunt violence, and that the very notion of leaving home was more dangerous than she had ever conceived.

Even among the konti, there had been room for fear. There were mocking artists and athletes and even healers that had judged and scorned Erato’s chosen life—such common insults are directed at many, many people on a daily basis, mostly because of insecurity and pride that leads to misunderstandings and eventual regret. But such things are easily ignored and brushed away, for the softer, tender part of the heart most prone to hurt is understood and injured best by those it is closest to. As far as violence and physical danger, there were occasional fishing accidents, bites, difficult birthing, food poisoning, and various other injuries that went from trivial to fatal, but never such cruel, bloody bludgeoning that had clearly happened between the Akalak and the beast.

It shook the konti to her core. All she could see was blood, blood, blood and the pure brawn that had spilled it. Her sheltered mind could grasp the blatant violence no easier than she could understand drowning. How was any creature capable of such destruction? Certainly, Erato was familiar with the deadlier aspects of fishing that included everything from little fish hooks to impressive harpoons, but the gutting of fish was quick and done respectfully. Actual land beasts could endure worse pains before death, but Erato had never heard of such a story where any konti was drenched in blood, having completed her task with muscle alone.

Erato then found it difficult to share even one pinch of Devmond’s eloquence and humor. She knew only that he was warm and firm and gentle, one of the few remaining shards of what she had once considered to be reality. His words had been flowery, and in her flustered state of mind, she didn’t know whether or not she ought to take them seriously, but she wanted desperately to believe them. In the face of this shock, she realized that she needed a friend, a guide, a gentle ray of moonlight to cast order in what she felt was chaos. There was so much that she did not understand, and this was among the first times when she had felt true intimidation and fear.

So she didn’t answer Devmond with words. She didn’t even know how he could remain so calm, but took solace in his stability. Her first ounce of real trust was given, trusting that Devmond was correct in his calm, trusting that he would not harm her. Merely thinking that made her scales above her eye tingle, and she knew it was not a perfectly safe choice, but the alternative was unacceptable. Whether Devmond chose to stay or part, she needed the safety of his knowledge and the refuge of water. She wouldn’t stay alone in the wilderness without some manner of sanctuary.

Erato’s bottom lip trembled, and she felt her stomach twist at the very notion of letting the flesh of the mutilated creature come anywhere near her mouth. One arm reflexively wrapped around her stomach as she huddled even closer to Devmond, allowing her head to loll against the curve of his neck and shoulder. Her eyes closed, and she took a deep breath, taking in the dark man’s scent, which had mixed with the sharper aroma of her herbs. She didn’t consider for a moment the awkwardness of the situation; she had made her choice and wanted the shelter that Devmond’s arm and words offered.

[Devmond Incarnata]

It did not escape him that the Akalak’s description of the attack was simple and humble. Devmond had criticized him before on his blatant honesty. Now there was a growing respect as he watched him tend the carcass. It was not the respect that was the conviction of a wrong move leading to being thrown dead in a ditch. Although, that was a small, small sliver of the whole emotional spectrum. No, Devmond had to raise an imaginary offering bowl in salute. Erato was even closer to becoming a Symenestra surrogate.

Erato was even closer to him. Although being ridden on a rail through memory lane, he was only in ire. She looked ready to faint, her pale lips in a quivering line. It bothered him that she had not laughed at his joke. Perhaps, this was better. In silence, the insincere offer of protection seemed to be accepted. The lovely Erato snuggled her soft hair into his neck. He had to suppress a small laugh as the spot was a little sensitive. Distracting the gut reaction to push her away, he put both hands around her and gave gentle squeeze. The Akalak looked pissed, although, trying to hide it. Devmond glowed like a latern.

Sure, muscle man was nice. Cute as a green button. Kindness, however, does not get you very far in Mizahar. This taught to Devmond from even before he could know the meaning of each sound from his father’s mouth. The world had almost been destroyed. Now everyone, every race, was fighting for survival. Many of those races would be more than happy to kill you, if convenient. This was no longer about the individual. The yearly harvest was a testament to the race’s success. This was about community. About having families. About sex.

Devmond knew how to know, if you wanted to name the number one, most rigidly practiced hobby. There had been times, in his teens and a few months ago, that he could no longer remember which girl was with what day. It was not for the kids. The women he slept with were mostly, after all, Symenestra women. Devmond had no intention of sliming the already skimpy population. No, it was to help understand what women craved. Through trial and error of hypothesis galore, he found the most effective thesis in the science of love. Play the bad boy.

It was instantly successful, worked hour after hour. Arrogance was considered your most attractive trait. Paying wads of money on edgy clothes made them want to take it off. Breaking the rules, being dangerous, made girls want you to teach them to dance dirty. They never were bothered by you sometimes forgetting they existed while in the same room. Tons of super-hot-chicks are always hanging out at the nest, you say, you better act fast. You were never mean outright, but dominated through manipulation. If they knew the ploy, they thought it made you intelligent.

Why? Girls want guys who surprise them, who are interesting. He had been naturally snarky and perceptive, the traits had only to be prompted. So, Devmond put unpredictability and a subtle dominance under the belt. You had to do more than just be trying to force with honesty or kill with kindness. The Akalak was doing it all wrong. Poor guy. Poor little, Nilky. Devmond snorted at the new nickname. He’d have to use it sometime.

However, the Akalak remained as clueless as ever and seemed preoccupied with eating. Rambling as he stood there horribly soaked. His request in a cook for the now ‘official’ party seemed to fall on the wrong four ears. Erato could well be put under psychological trauma at having to even touch the mutilated corpse. She currently seemed to be using his neck and shoulders to block out even the man’s voice. As for Devmond, he was under some specifically biological short comings. Symenestra did not cook. Well, occasionally on holidays you’d pull out the old recipe sheets and prepare a few simple meals. The daily meals, the fruit or meat, were drunk straight from the source. The poisoned fangs softened the insides and you downed it like soup.

“I’m afraid that I cannot help you, newfound companion. I happen to be a very horrible cook. Even if I did not make every meal into mush, I would not know how to tender or prepare such meat. It is a strange creature would need more skill than I.” Devmond said. For once in that entire day, he had been at least, for now, entirely honest.

[Nil'kayn]

To be continued...

[Panna Cotta]

Your Patience is Rewarded! NIL'KAYN Hunting 3 Unarmed Combat 1 Interrogation 1 Wilderness Survival 4 Observation 2 Swimming 1 Socialization 1 Lore of Priskil's Pond Lore of Drowning Lore of Owing a Life Debt Lore of Syliran Wild Boars (partial) Lore of Scaring a Konti Lore of Scaring a Symnestra ERATO Wilderness Survival 1 Interrogation 1 Observation 3 Persuasion 2 Rhetoric 2 Socialization 1 Seduction 1 Singing 1 Herbalism 2 Lore of Priskil's Pond Lore of Saving a Drowning Man Lore of Self-Awareness Lore of Fearing an Akalak Lore of Reminiscing about the White Isle DEVMOND Observation 4 Subterfuge 3 Rhetoric 3 Stealth 2 Socialization 1 Acting 2 Tracking 1 Wilderness Survival 1 Lore of Priskil's Pond Lore of Trailing Behind Lore of Blood Offerings Lore of Playing Wounded Lore of Fearing an Akalak Notes: Okay that was... half a thread. I hope you'll send the rest of it to me! Haha. I don't think zippers exist yet. Nakivaks are women who owe a life debt, Kayn, not the other way around Feel free to send a PM should you have any questions.