By the time Meera had washed, combed and braided Darksand's mane and tail, she was thoroughly exhausted. His blue chin was something she needed to tackle as soon as possible before it got sticky and grimy, and she must have washed his mouth for a full bell before it was clean. All the while, Meera could see the wild birds of Riverfall attack others. Her eyes were brought together in her confusion - she just didn't fully understand Djed, and probably never would. The fact that Aren had used Djed, too, sat ill with her. She could understand why that bothered her at least: she cared deeply for him, and how she understood magic was it was to throw parts of one's self away, and the young Drykas wanted her Akalak to stay intact for as long as possible. Images of him withering away bothered her mouth into a tight line.
She wiped sweat off her brow with the back of her bad hand which had started to throb with the pain of exertion. She couldn't favour the wrist though because it had been injured. Meera needed the extremity up to full capacity and soon, especially if Aren was going to teach her how "to kill him".
Perhaps it was just an issue with the weather, this Djed storm causing everyone to act a little unorthodox, she concluded. The blonde certainly never made a habit out of crying as nothing ever came from the act. There was no good or harm in crying, and it was seen as pointless in the young woman's eyes. But now Meera's eyes were dry as was Darksand's buckskin coat, and so she had a promise to upkeep with her partner. At least that bit of knowledge made her smile, and smile she did as she dusted off her hands onto her brown, slightly splotchy pants.
For the first time in a few days she took stock of her appearance. Her chemise was still stained with blood from the antelope even though she had washed the garment several times. Dark brown spots rippled through the linen. Now that she had a place at Aren's side officially, she might wish to dress more appropriately. The Akalak would want a woman who looked like a woman, perhaps, instead of the savage little girl playing at swords with the boys. She sighed, and gathered her pack.
Night had fallen on the Kulkukan when Meera returned to the tavern, dressed in her same clothes, but with a few nicer garments folded in her pack. They were not by any standard fancy, or even should they be classified as "nice," but they were new, and they were not her standard fare of cream coloured chemise. There was even a dress involved. The blonde settled her pack at the table Aren typically favoured and took her seat, waving to Chell and Nys. She motioned for two mugs of ale and sat back, arms crossed over her bust as though to hide her blood stains. The smile at the knowledge of her position on the Akalak's arm - although not fully understanding what that really meant due to her inexperience - was still plastered on her face. Seemingly random, the young Drykas was shown to blush occasionally as she was lost in her thoughts.