On the Road to Nowhere. (Aiken)

[Dastan Tyrael]

Dastan watched quietly as the impetuous Kelvic spoke of "losing his kill," then raised an eyebrow as Aiken's stomach growled. Dastan was less than amused by the display, however he did stifle a chuckle. There was something in misfortune that warranted a cheap laugh. "Sometimes the only thing you have to say is 'yes,' you know." Without taking another moment for pleasantries, he tossed the caracass to Aiken deftly and smiled softly in his direction. There was a time when smiling had been for disarmament and subtlety in Dastan's youth, and it felt odd to act thus genuinely for a moment, but charity seemed the proper action in this situation. "I'd offer to cook it for you, but I've no such prowess, and I lack the proper utilities to perform the task. I assume you take it raw anyway." An impish smirk betrayed Dastan's sarcasm; he was generally not the type who knew how to conduct himself socially in the first place, so a bit of well-intended humor did not seem taboo to him. "Tell me Aiken, where is your family?"

[Aiken]

Aiken ignored Dastan as his meal literally landed in his hands. He had been hungry, and the lust for meat and blood had come back almost instantly. Still walking, he bit down on the things stomach and ripped backwards, spilling gizzards and blood all about them. He pushed around for a moment, looking for the nutritious liver that awaited his teeth. He swallowed it in two bites, and then started on the legs.

He didn't get far though, before Dastan asked him of his family. It stopped him dead for a full ten seconds.

"It all depends... on which one you mean," he said between bites as he picked up walking again.

[Dastan Tyrael]

"What is it with people and being cryptic?" Dastan sighed almost as if he regretted asking in the first place, but it was too late to not indulge the new route of conversation. With telltale chagrin in his eyes, Dastan faced Aiken with his back against a tree now, crossing his arms at his chest. "I mean, I know what people say about family being more than blood, and I know damned well that some people were not raised by their genetic parents- more so than I'd like to admit, in fact- but why can't anyone ever just assume that they should keep it simple?" The Benshira seemed to be a bit more against the grain than he let on, automatically assuming that something was wrong when the feral man went from ingesting raw animal innards to somber silence, his body tensing with alertness. "Sorry, now I'm the one rambling." Dastan shook his head in mild disdain at how impolite he was being; a surefire way to get yourself hurt, and quite possibly dead in a foreign place was to be gruff with the locals. Lucky for Dastan, he knew street politics- that is to say, negotiation on the edge of a blade. And he knew that Aiken was wary of that just as he was wary of Aiken, a fact that leveled the playing field. "What I meant to say was, 'where is the family you generally live with?' That would explain why you're out and about right now and not with your pack or family unit or whatever you'd like to call it. I'm sure that they would have fed you just as well, if not more promptly, no?"

[Aiken]

"Well.. I left the pack a few months ago. Personal reasons. Before that.. Well, I'm not sure where they are anymore. Family isn't exactly.. umm.. Family is one of those things I'd rather leave in memory alone for now." Aiken stopped to tear through the skin on a leg and gnawing on the sweet flesh underneath. It was soothing for his nerves, especially with the memory of his mother fresh in his mind. He took a few minutes to gather himself as the fresh blood dripped down his neck.

"Things happened," He said through the meat. "People were hurt, and I was confused. I left. When it came to the pack, I just couldn't take being away from people anymore. I needed to know there were still humans. I don't think you could understand that, but its a bonding thing."

[Dastan Tyrael]

Dastan rubbed his hands togeher as if trying to wash something away. Clearly he was displeased with his thoughts, and Aiken's story was only plaguing him with memories. "Personal reasons, eh? Well, I can relate to that, I suppose." Dastan did not look at the Kelvic again for a long while, his mind not completely in that place. His hands moved over the hilts of his gladiuses, feeling the intricacies of the hilts coupled with the bandages swathed over them to obscure their identity from anyone who might recognize them. "People get hurt. That's the nature of life. Good and bad convienently wrapped into a single unit. And then you die." It was matter of fact, sarcastic even, but it was true more so than anything else. Dastan leaned now against a tree, closing his eyes, shaking his head. He fought against his thoughts, trying to calm himself. It was all he could do not to shout out in anger at fate.

[Aiken]

Aiken sat down on the forest floor, gnawing on what was left of his rabbit. "I like to think of good and bad as two different things. I'm not sure. I don't usually think about it very much, if at all."

The blood dripped down onto his chest. While he paid no mind, the warm sensation tickled his skin and perked a hairs on his neck. Deep in the succulent flesh and the cracking of bones, he couldn't hear the quiet snap of twigs, or the heavy, sweaty musk of a prowling pack of coyotes slowly making their way closer to the sweet scent of dead rabbit. There were four fully grown males with their faces to the ground, following the trail that Dastan and Aiken had made.

[Dastan Tyrael]

While they were talking, Dastan did not appear to make notice of any commotion nearby, though he was not completely oblivious to the inherent danger of the great outdoors. He was listening as best he could for any off color sounds, and though he couldn't make out a source, he heard a twig snap and his eyes shifted in that direction. Dastan, while tanned like any good Benshira ought be, had honed his vision for the sake of swordplay. It was imperitive that he be able to spot an opponent's weakness in combat, and when the opportunity struck, exploit it. Keen eyes did him another service, too. While nowhere near capable of saying he had "night vision," Dastan could make out minute traces of movement in their direction. Biting back some insightful comment about there were no poles in the world and ethics being a book written by mankind's hand, Dastan tilted his head in that direction and hoped to the Gods the Kevic took a hint; they might as well be caught with their pants down if they didn't assess the situation quickly. Better late than never.

[Aiken]

Aiken stop chewing for a minute, his peripheral vision picking up Dastan's movement. "What," he asked, before sniffing the air. Mixed in with the sweet rabbit's blood, was the musk of dogs. Not a proud and powerful wolf like himself or his brothers, but a less pungent scent. A growl started in his chest, and his face snarled as he stood up.

"Dogs. Not too many, but they're all hunters. They followed the blood.. I don't really care about what you do, but I have a certain hatred for coyotes."