Closed Inquisition (Garran)

[Zed]

67th of Spring, 513 AV

It was cold. It was terrible and miserable and cold. Living in a cave his entire life, he at least had the ambition to visit other places. As his "Empire" had finally started to open up to the world, he knew this was a good opportunity. He just expected it to be a little more... friendly. Both he and his bird felt miserable. Despite Zovah's thick feathers shielding it from the weather, it just wasn't enough. And Zed... his clothing wasn't appropriate at all for something like this. He wore a vest, but it, along with most of his body, was covered by a red cloak. The cloak looked to be fairly exquisite, as was the clothing underneath it, although left hidden. The people surrounding him stared horrifically, like he was here to invade, or do terrible things unto them. Well, it was more his dragon-sized bird that they were staring at.

He liked the fear, and the curiosity. That was one of the few things he did expect after coming here, and something that hadn't managed to disappoint. The people here act like they've never seen an Inarta before, he relayed into Zovah's thoughts. It was their weird telepathy thing they had going on. Although, since Zed sucked at Nari, to Zovah it sounded more like... Here people don't Inarta before? Well, that was the end of that conversation.

After a time of wandering, he eventually came up to a guard or... someone who looked like a guard, and began to ramble a bunch of questions in their face. Where was the leader of Avanthal? Who would receive him? Where were the accommodations he had come to expect here? No one seemed to know. The guards didn't seem to know anything, and the people didn't seem to know anything. Just like he expected; he had been drowned by a tide of idiots. "Idiot, idiot, idiot, idiot." Every person he walked by, he spouted that one word. Obviously, people didn't take it very nicely. But what could they do, with the behemoth following him around? "Hey idiot, do you know where I can find some help?" He asked quite rudely to a tired looking man, who eyed him, ignored him, and continued on.

After a while, he found the answers he needed. It was as simple as marching up to the place of leadership and forcing them to comply. Zovah, although not happy with his obligations, went off with a few traders to deal with their problems for them. He promised mentally to be back soon, although he personally wasn't too sure about that. He didn't know if Avanthal was to be trusted yet, but he was sure that Zovah would be able to deal with any problems that they created for him. After all, he was larger than life, and stronger than a mountain. While Zed dealt with the commoners and the riffraff here, he could trust his friend to do the same down there.

The Endal didn't find anything entertaining in the city. He wandered around, stared at the instruments, the shops, the people scurrying about. Obviously, people were less inclined to put up with him, now that his bird had gone. Still, some of them were either nice enough or tolerant enough to lead him to the more interesting part of town: the stables. He had always wanted to see a horse. Rumor told him that they were useless and would march off of clifftops like idiots when left to their own devices. That they were weak and docile, prey to men and their ambitions. Not as majestic as or powerful as the eagles. But still, animals nonetheless. And animals... he had always enjoyed them, and their presence. Wandering down to the point of interest, he began to hum a random tune.

[Garran Frostfawn]

It was – how do you say – just another glorious day in Morwen’s city? Their queen had returned many weeks ago, and the city was actually quite warm, as they bypassed the mid-season mark and were on the fast track to Summer. Garran worked with his sleeves rolled up, and shirt halfway unbuttoned, enjoying the sunshine of just after the mid-day zenith of its journey through the bright blue sky above him. Syna’s rays warmed his already tanned cheeks, and his eyes, a swirl of aqua green, squinted a bit as he led the yearling colt out into the small paddock beside the White Elk stables. With a gentle smile on his face, he let the long lead line out and clicked a bit with his tongue. Already, the colt was trained enough to know the routine, and he willingly moved out into a circle, at the center of which stood the trainer. Some liked to use a long thin whip – not for beating the horses but simply for touching them on the quarters or flank or shoulder. But Garran preferred to simply use his voice. He’d found that was enough, and didn’t add in the element of skittishness with these babies. It would be two or three years yet before he’d break them to be ridden. For now, he just wanted to handle his charges as much as he could, and work with the bit and getting them to be supple and responsive. He’d also work on training them to harness and pulling a sled that was ultra-light, just to get them used to the idea and encourage quiet and steady manners in them. Today, though, he was just working on bending and hopefully getting the yearling up into a canter and on the correct lead. With a small whistle, he urged the colt to a trot. Almost as soon as he did, though, they were interrupted. One of the grooms came out from the vast barn with a saddle horse in tow. The horse was all tacked up and Garran wondered what was up. With admirable brevity, the groom informed the trainer that Lusina – the Frostfawn who ran the stables – had sent him out with the stallion to have Garran take a quick look at how he was moving. She thought he might be going a bit off on the near hind leg and would the trainer please give a second opinion. Lusina had a quick errand to run but would be back within the hour. Garran nodded and walked the colt over to the fence and tied him up there, then had the groom circle a bit with the stallion, watching his action carefully. If there was something there, it was just barely beginning, and he decided to do a bit more investigation. Calling the groom over, Garran deftly put a foot in the stirrup and gracefully hopped aboard the tall raw boned roan. With a cluck he turned the stallion and first walked and then trotted him about, using his legs to communicate various shifts in direction and speed. Still undecided, he reined in and shook his head, before dismounting and stooping to pull the hoof in question up, holding it between his knees, as he carefully inspected the sole.

[Zed]

His curiosity may have not been welcomed, but he let it go wild nonetheless. He observed each creature in the stable. They kind of looked stupid. The first thing he noticed was all of the dung they had just left around; the second, their strange noises and dull expression. It didn't look like a very admirable existence. How often did they even get to leave their little stall?

The more he walked around, the less he wanted to be here. It wasn't that his curiosity had been sated, it was really just that he was freezing cold. He needed a blanket or an entire fortress just to keep himself from freezing. So, he set out to find one of them, at least. He would've preferred the fortress. "Hey, idiot," After spending at least five minutes wandering the premise, unwelcome, he came upon a man who seemed to be eagerly handling one of the horses. His first two words didn't set up the conversation nicely, but at least he probably caught his attention.

The situation was interesting. First, he climbed onto it, then initiated some form of movement. He got it to roam for a short while, and used his lower body to direction it. Apparently, people used their legs to control this particular type of animal slave. With the Inarta, the Eagles were the ones that owned them, not the other way around. It was kind of strange to witness the whole sordid affair. When the Vantha descended from the creature, Zed found the will to question him fully. "These are the beasts they call horses, right? Very nice animals. I give them my stamp of approval." Of course, that was just babbling. What he came here to ask, really, was... "Are there any places here that don't face constant freezing? If there are any, you'd do well to take me to one of them." He felt numb, almost. The feeling in his body was slowly going away from him. All he felt now, was cold.

And although he didn't expect much from the obviously inherent stupidity of these people, this person in particular seemed at least a little competent. Maybe he could save the Endal's apparent perfection from freezing. He didn't have anything to give in exchange for his life, of course, but he did have a man-sized talon to shove in someone's back if everyone continued to be as useless as they were. That was a nice idea, actually. He'd make special effort to share it. "To clarify, if you don't help me, I have an eagle the size of your mother's fat arse that will tear you from limb to limb." Not the best idea to threaten the locals, but he didn't really know any better.

[Garran Frostfawn]

Garran had noted the stranger’s approach, without having to look up. He saw the groom, whose head jerked in the direction of the wide open doors that led back into the barn, and he sensed the sudden rigidity in the colt over on the fence, who was straining to see if this new entity signaled friend or foe. But the trainer continued picking away random bits of dirt and debris that adhered to the sole of the horse’s foot, looking for any sign of trauma. What looked to be the shadow of stone bruise spread a small stain of dark against the paler sole, close to the base of the frog. Maybe that was it, and maybe by morning the stallion would be going well and truly lame. Finally he let the hoof drop and raised his head, to observe that the newcomer – who was dressed in an outlandishly flamboyant manner, even for the colorful Vantha – was observing him in return. Garran straightened, his hand on the stallion’s red and cream speckled hind quarter, giving him a pat, when the flame headed foreigner spoke – two words – neither of which Garran found particularly charming. Remaining by the horse, Garran lifted one eyebrow in reply, saying nothing – for truly, how was one to respond to such an abominably rude salutation? He waited, bemused, to see if there would be more – for this stranger had quite a bold and brazen look about him that screamed that he’d not be likely to confine himself to just those two small words. Sure enough, it was no more than a moment of staring at one another before the redhead spoke again, this time with a condescending compliment to the animals that Garran had devoted a lifetime to. Garran’s brows twisted into a wry expression of mirth, annoyance and puzzlement. He might have come back with something sardonic, such as why thank you kind sir, but he wasn’t sure a fellow like this would get sarcasm – at least not someone else’s sarcasm. In any event, the young man – perhaps an Inarta from the looks of his hair and their reputation for such glowing locks – quickly switched back to prick mode, and basically demanded that Garran show him or take him to someplace warm – upon pain of death by eagle talon. Just for good measure, the little bastard – well, he was about the same size as the Vantha but Garran was seeing him as a very small person indeed – threw in an insult aimed at Alexia’s rear. Garran still made no reply, though he turned to the groom and said quietly, “Take the colt inside, OK?” The boy, with large eyes swirling in colors of confusion and insult, looked uncertain but Garran nodded to him reassuringly. With a small huff, the teen did as he was told, handing the reins of the stallion to Garran as he left him. Garran returned his own crimson gaze to the red headed dickhead and said quietly, “I never knew the Inarta were so smart. You got it right, first time around. It’s a horse.” He began to walk towards the other guy, the stallion following willingly, and as he came abreast of this uninvited guest, he said, “My people are renowned for their hospitality. We’d never let anyone freeze – no matter how much they might deserve to. If you want, you’re welcome to come with me, to my home, and meet my mother. But you got that one wrong. She’s a very petite woman. Very dainty, and feminine. Kind of like you, princess.” He had said this whilst walking past the Inarta. Now he turned his head back over his shoulder and added, “We’ll even build a nice fire for you – get you nice and toasty. I’ve always heard how delicate you Inarta are.”

[Zed]

He could just see it. The displeasure in his eyes. And it was a nice thing to see. Every single thing the Inarta spoke jaded his attitude towards him. It sunk in a little deeper, how much of a self-entitled prick he was. Wonderful. In fact, perhaps Zed made such an impression that what he saw as just another empty-headed Vantha actually spoke something coherent. Immediately upon his words, the ginger enthusiastically applauded. "Take the colt inside? How long did that take to summon up?" He was very curious as to the mental processing capability of a Vantha. So far, they seemed to be a bit on the low side, but at least they were better than the Dek. Speaking of whom... "It's not really all of the Inarta. It's really just me. Maybe a few others." He wasn't really an Inartan supremacist, unlike the rest. It was more that he was tolerant to his own people, and not any other ethnic group.

It seemed that this Vantha in particular, though, may not have been tolerant to the Inarta, with these beautiful compliments to their "intelligence". Anyone could tell that it was a horse. He'd seen pictures before -- drawings. He'd heard it described in writing. Hopefully it was actually a compliment rather than a mocking of his intellect. He didn't respond well to any of that.

Which was a bad thing, considering the Vantha was set on mocking him in a number of ways. He listened to him go on and on, listened to him imply that Zed should freeze, and even call him dainty, feminine. A princess? Well, that wasn't such a bad title. It could stand to lose the last two letters, but all-and-all, he was very glad that the man could recognize his royal grace. "I'm so glad to be surrounded by such hospitable people. Surely, a heart full of love is a fair trade for a brain full of nothing." He was actually very interested in the offer to come over. The Endal always wondered what foreigners homes were like. He wondered where they shat? Who cleaned it up? With the poor ones, did it just lie on the floor? "You're a very generous host, you know. I'd be full of joy if I could come visit your dainty, petite, fragile mother and converse about our endless similarities. And then I'm sure we could talk about you, and how pretty you used to be before Zovah tore you apart." He stopped there. Just stared at him, earnestly. In his way, he meant to say that one more insult to his character would merit something far worse in return.

But he didn't like to stick to unpleasant things. The conversation quickly moved on, even though it probably would've been fun to continue the stare-down. "I'm a very delicate person, as you just mentioned. All of this chatting and teasing is weighing heavy on my stamina. So, can we get going? You'd be doing a princess a great favor." The insults couldn't keep coming. He was honestly incapable of staying out here much longer. The cloak covering most of his body was probably the only thing keeping him from falling against the snow. This wasn't a matter where he could continue to dally around. He didn't have the body or the patience to converse with a peasant for any longer.

[Garran Frostfawn]

"I'm so glad to be surrounded by such hospitable people. Surely, a heart full of love is a fair trade for a brain full of nothing.” Garran had turned back around and kept walking the stallion back into the barn. But at this retort he had to chuckle. Once again he turned, this time walking backwards a few steps, hands spreading wide in a magnanimous gesture. “Don’t feel so bad. If you hang around Avanthal and all these loving hearts, I’m sure your brain is bound to pick up something, here and there. And just think how smart all your friends back home will think you’ve gotten. Why – they’ll all be flocking to Avanthal.” He laughed outright, flashing that bright, engaging smile, and then disappeared into the barn. The guy did sound a bit desperate to get in ‘out of the weather’ – though of course to Garran, the day was warm and perfect – almost too warm, really, for his magically insulated blood. So he figured if the little tosser was really intent upon taking him up on his offer, he’d be on Garran’s heels, sooner rather than later. The Vantha wasn’t quite sure how he felt about taking this smart ass home to meet his momma – he could just imagine the look on her face. But, it was true. They did not turn anyone away – even if during his visit they might have to resort to gagging him just to get him to shut his big yap. That idea made Garran chuckle again and he felt pretty effusive. It took a lot to really get him riled enough to get angry. Sure enough, as he led the stallion down the shed row, he heard the redhead entering the barn behind him, and as he turned the horse into an empty stall, the redhead approached. his expression…not amused. "You're a very generous host, you know. I'd be full of joy if I could come visit your dainty, petite, fragile mother and converse about our endless similarities. And then I'm sure we could talk about you, and how pretty you used to be before Zovah tore you apart." Garran had turned to face the other young man, and they were almost toe to toe, and exchanging those “if looks could kill” kind of stares. The Vantha smirked though. “Pretty? Why thank you. You’re kind of cute yourself, Princess. But you just might want to consider how your own city would feel about all trade with my city being cut off - all because some rogue idiot with a big birdy ran amok and ripped apart one of their humble – and I assure you totally non violent – horse trainers, for absolutely no reason whatsoever. I’d hate for my death to spell the end of your city getting the things it needs from here.” There were a few more moments of tense anticipation, but finally the Inarta seemed to weigh his own physical comfort over continuing on with this silly pissing contest. "I'm a very delicate person, as you just mentioned. All of this chatting and teasing is weighing heavy on my stamina. So, can we get going? You'd be doing a princess a great favor." Garran had crossed his arms over his chest, but now he let them drop, as he laughed, shaking his head at this crimson peacock of a man. Reaching to pull the stall door shut, he said with a smile, “Well, far be it for me to be the cause of your demise. Hey, I’m all about coming to the rescue of a damsel in distress. C’mon.” With a few quick words of instruction thrown to the groom, who was lurking and keeping an eye on the cocky stranger, Garran began to lead the cloaked and cold looking foreigner towards the main doors of the barn. “My name is Garran, by the way. Garran Frostfawn – this barn and all these animals belong to my Hold.” He looked the other guy up and down, noting the proud and sharply chiseled features of his handsome face. It seemed a face well suited to the arrogant personality that animated it with such looks of contempt and superiority. “So, where did you park this huge ass bird of yours anyway? Do we need to be locking up the caribou and the musk ox?”

[Zed]

He wasn't really put off by Garran's first entry in their series of witty comebacks. Instead, he rather enjoyed it. He flashed the man a charming smile, and responded briefly: "Surely the promise of intellect would be a way to get the peasants out of my city." He was genuinely fairly impressed with the horse lover. The way he moved, the way he talked... The fact that he wasn't afraid to give Zed a piece of his mind. It was so much more intriguing than watching the commoners bend to let him abuse them. Sadly, he was afraid that all of this attitude made it look less and less likely that he'd give him a helping hand.

The more the Vantha seemed to talk, and laugh at his own jokes, the lighter his spirit seemed to get. This must've been one of those types of people to do all of the talking and thinking for you. It was in his nature to be kind. That was good. "You really are just full of smiles and laughter, aren't you?" He'd be lying if he said that he didn't admire it at least a little. Foreigners and their conscious effort to unleash their "joy" in everyone's face.

Obviously, he followed the Vantha into the barn. It was warmer in here. And, he wasn't going to let his conquest escape him. Not without an answer that would benefit the Endal in some way. Rather than being given something simple, though, he was given a face full of blabber. The compliment, to him, meant nothing. His ego was so inflated that even a sonnet about his perfection would do the writer no favors. Although, the horse-banger wasn't the one who needed any favors...

The rest of his speech was just lame. "It doesn't take an expert to tell that my threats were empty. Don't you think I care more about the well-being of my people than meeting your hag? I'm sure there are others in this city that would do this for me. Whether or not I'd have to ...open myself to them in order for them to open their doors for me." That probably stood out more than the rest of what he'd said. Although likely strange for the Vantha to hear, in the Reach, it was more of a daily venture than anything. Even for such an 'elite'.

After a lot of waiting, staring, and anticipating, the Vantha came through. He laughed some more, smiled some more, and thankfully got to saying that he'd been waiting for this whole time. "I'm sure you'll be blessed with wonderful karma for this heroic deed. You'll be gifted many horses, marry some doe-eyed tramp, and have many beautiful babies by the sea." Without further adieu, however, he followed Garran intently. He was really eager to go somewhere with a warm fire and a nice meal for him to gobble down. Rather than that, though, he got to listen to his valiant rescuer go on about his fat animals. What he did pick up from that collabo of sentences was the man's name, which was fairly interesting. Garran -- he liked the sound of it. Frostfawn just reminded him of how cold this place was, so he couldn't care for it.

His face empty of expression, the Endal replied. "My name is Zed. Some Endal have last names. I don't." Zed Zovah was too many... Z's, and so he wouldn't be carrying on the post-bonding trend. It just wasn't a very fashionable name. He recognized the Vantha eying him down, which prompted a short-lived spark of his regular self. The type of man you'd meet if you encountered him within the Reach. After a brief moment of staring back at Garran in the same manner, and after similarly relating the other man's handsome features to his own cheeky personality, he spoke with the simple intent to catch him off guard. "I could show you something far better than a "huge ass bird", if you're generous with me." He really didn't see a problem with anything he just said. Zed was an Inarta -- and like all of his kind, he had no inhibitions on his speech. Nor on his actions.

He couldn't leave Avanthal without at least saying he tried! "My wind eagle is by the docks. He won't be here next morning, and he won't be here for a few days after that. I'm supposed to stay and wait for him to carry out his mission." Which led to an explanation as to why he requested for Garran to be "generous". He needed somewhere to stay until the entire itinerary with Zovah was over, and that could go on be for an entire week. He wasn't going to survive in some barn or dealing with a lecher for a whole week.

[Garran Frostfawn]

It seemed that Garran had piqued at least some sort of interest in the Inarta – Zed with no last name. The unveiled, frank once over the Vantha was giving him was returned measure for measure by those smug, haughty orbs that glittered like green ice. Maybe the guy really was freezing his lower set of jewels off and that’s why he had such a frosty stare. But, like the flamehead, Garran wasn’t at all displeased by either what he saw or the fact that he himself was receiving a close scrutiny as payback. Neither was he too concerned about whether Zed was….pleased – or satisfied – or, appeased – by what he saw. Garran was far from shy, but he also didn’t go out of his way to put himself in someone’s face, so he had long ago adopted a rather blasé attitude towards how he came across to others. He was who he was – and looking back at Zed, he thought in all likelihood, in that small respect they were birds of a feather. Neither man seemed prone to giving a rat’s rear what anyone thought of them, though who they were seemed almost diametrically opposites, which was…interesting. The next comment that Zed let loose on the heels of that direct, lingering look admirably fulfilled its purpose, if the Inarta was wanting to throw a zinger at Garran’s head. "I could show you something far better than a "huge ass bird", if you're generous with me." Garran wasn’t quick enough to stop his eyebrows from lifting. Well, that was audacious, and pretty blunt. Apparently this was the ginger’s approach at all times – no-one could ever accuse the birdman of being subtle, or oblique. Garran just had to chuckle, and he said, “I’ll be sure to keep that in mind. Sure wouldn’t want to pass up the opportunity to see something so…grand. I’ll, uh, have to put my mind to thinking of a way to show you just how generous we Vantha can be. We are inclined to share, you know.” Managing to rearrange his features into the proverbial ‘straight face’ Garran listened to his soon-to-be guest explain that his stay in Avanthal was to be a protracted one. Garran did a sort of mental double take as he began to wonder just exactly how long his hospitality would be called upon to put up with the prickly foreigner. But it was true – the Vantha didn’t even have anything like a hotel or inn for travelers. They were housed in the various Holds, depending on what their business in the city was. Garran supposed he could foist Zed off on the Clearwaters, as they were the ones that dealt with all things water, ocean and docks related. With a mental shrug, though, he decided to just play this by ear. If worse came to worst, he’d be working all day and could go to bed right after dinner. But, who knew – maybe Red here would chill out and get just a little less abrasive once he warmed up. He sure as hell couldn’t get worse – could he? So Garran just gave Zed a noncommittal nod and said, “Your eagle is in charge? That’s a bit different. I suppose if I put my horses in charge of things there’d be a whole lot of eating, sleeping and, uh…” He stopped himself short from what he had been going to say, rubbing his ear with a little grin and finishing up with, “… a lot of horseplay,” before switching topics quickly. “How long did it take you to get here, from your mountain?” As they talked, they walked along, exiting the barn and back out onto the short road – or long driveway, depending on how you looked at it – which led to the main Frostfawn buildings, where the huge extended family of animal loving Vantha lived and worked, slept and ate and played and socialized. Back out in the bright sunshine, Garran blinked a bit and pulled at the front of his shirt, feeling a bit over warm. He cast a little sideways glance at the companion fate seemed to have thrust upon him, and he saw how he seemed to huddle into his opulent cloak. Morwen’s mark was really almost a necessity to live here in her frozen city. But Garran never thought about how different it must be for a foreigner – until moments like this. He couldn’t feel sorry for Zed, because they guy was such a tool. But he could…commiserate with him, he supposed. If Garran was magically transported to Eyktol, he’d probably collapse in a heap and die of heat stroke. Both of them were creatures of their environment, and he wouldn’t hold Zed’s susceptibility to the cold against him. The guy was brash, but Garran had heard a bit about the eagle riders. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that riding about in the sky, so far above the earth, on the back of a bird was more than a little bit dangerous. The riders had a reputation in Avanthal for being quite wild, arrogant, overbearing asses – but it stood to reason – a man who was willing to take the risks they did would have to have a pretty big set between his legs. There were some pursuits that not all men were suited to, by temperament or intellect or natural talent. He didn’t know much about the Inarta. But he knew this man walking beside him was a rare breed, even amongst his own kind. Garran flashed Zed a more congenial smile as these thoughts flew through his mind in the time it takes to blink an eye. “Don’t worry – it’s not that far to my family’s rooms.”

[Zed]

The Vantha spent a lot of time just thinking. Zed was fine with that -- talking was always a lot of effort, especially when you were trying to be nice. Yes -- Zed was actually trying to be nice. That was just a good show of both how naive he was to the outside world, and how rotten of a person he was. The Vantha seemed fine with his attitude, though, which was nice. He spent a lot of the time just looking back at the ass-ginger, and trying to observe him. Of course, none of his observations would do him much good. Just staring at Zed wasn't going to help you learn much about him. Only listening would give some insight.

And when the Vantha did listen, he was probably shocked by what he heard. Zed, on the other-hand, although he never laughed... he couldn't make the effort to hold back an arrogant smile. He always loved to throw people off. Interestingly enough, instead of curling up into a ball and rolling away from Zed, Garran maybe seemed a little intrigued by the idea. Ha. Ginger tactics never fail! "Don't try to represent your race, Garran. All of the other Vantha I've met have ignored me or glared at me. You are inclined to share, and be generous. Not them." He didn't say much more than that. Maybe it was his way of saying that he was grateful for the good spirit of this man. Or, maybe he was just trying to butter his biscuit. Whichever.

As they continued to walk, with Garran listening what Zed had to say, and Zed listening to what Garran had to say, the man had started to feel a little better about this whole trip. He hadn't had good conversation in a long time -- and to him, this whole spectacle was very entertaining. He kind of almost laughed at Garran's horse-pun. It was so lame that he enjoyed it. "Horseplay, really?" Moving on from that one tidbit, he started to elaborate on how things were in the Reach. "The eagles are our ancestors. When they died, they were reborn as these massive creatures. The eagles are smart, and powerful. They're not domestic, because they have no reason to bow to us. Your horses fear what you can do to them. They fear your weapons, your whips, they fear starving because of their rebellion. Our wind eagles have nothing to fear from us. Especially not from the lower castes." If a thousand Dek marched against just one nest of eagles, a thousand Dek would be bleeding on the ground. Sometimes, he wished that they had that sort of audacity.

Sadly they didn't. "It took me just a day. Avanthal isn't very far away from the Reach. The reason I chose it was that -- I didn't want to be too far away from my home." He wasn't sure if he made the right choice, though. He always figured that a man like himself could survive through anything. Even this bitter cold. He figured out he was wrong. And he had become dependent on this bag of dicks to survive. Well... Garran was actually very nice. The only good experience he'd be getting out of this trip, although he'd never admit it. "Did you just..." As an entirely different matter, the Inarta had just watched something that he found to be very ridiculous. The way he tugged at his shirt made it seem like he was actually sort of hot. This was the coldest city in Mizahar, wasn't it? "Well, whatever." After that awkward little double take, Zed made a conscious effort to spark up some form of conversation.

Mostly just because he was bored. "You live with your mother, right?" He was honestly a bit nervous about that. He didn't know how to deal with people's families. Or how to deal with... older people. Most Inarta never made it to old age. Zed didn't expect to last too long, either, even with an ego like his. "Do you love your mom?" Strange question to ask, but not for a ginger. Very few of them knew their parents, and the ones that did usually turned out a lot different than the ones that didn't. "I never knew mine. She gave birth to me, and ditched. I think that's probably a good thing, though. I couldn't stand to have some woman looming over my life all the time. It'd drive me nuts." He liked his freedom. Parental concern often took freedom away. Er... or so he was led to believe. "I don't know what to say when I meet her. I think I should probably just not talk," his face suddenly filled up with a grin, "Maybe I should ask for her permission to stumble into your sheets." Obviously, he was enjoying the idea of saying awkward or humiliating things to the Vantha's lady. When it actually came down to it, though, he really didn't have the desire to act like a degenerate.

[Garran Frostfawn]

"It took me just a day. Avanthal isn't very far away from the Reach. The reason I chose it was that -- I didn't want to be too far away from my home." Garran’s eyebrows shot up again. “A day only? Unbelievable…” Garran was visibly impressed at the almost magical power to travel so fast. Even given the speed of his Windrunner mare, he couldn’t hope to traverse the tundra, mountains and forests of the Northern Reaches and then the Unforgiving, and reach Mt Skyinarta in less than, oh, a month? And that would include facing many perils from both terrain and beasts that prowled the wilds. Of course, soaring through the skies had its own incredibly high risks. But to be able to get from one city to another in a day! Amazing. The topic of their conversation transitioned to Garran’s housing arrangements, or was it more about Garran’s familial relationships? For the very first time, Zed sounds just a wee bit unsure of himself, and that certainly struck a note with the Vantha. So, he thought to himself, this man isn’t completely a hardboiled ass hat. Hmmm…. He was really surprised to hear about the parental disconcern, though he supposed some mothers, and fathers, did abandon their children – usually when they had some overwhelming problems of their own that they couldn’t deal with and the responsibilities of parenting were just too much. However, that was definitely the very rare exception in Vantha culture, where they treasured their children, and not the norm. He didn’t realize that it was thus in Zed’s culture, so he felt a little pang of sadness for the guy, though Zed himself blew off the whole issue with his disdain for women in general. “I live with my family,” Garran gently corrected, the difference being a meaningful one to him, as he went on the explain. “That is how we Vantha do – we live together in communities – Holds. Typically, a person only changes their Hold, and thus where they live, when they marry – and usually it’s the women who moves to the Hold of her new husband. My mother was a Winterflame – they are renown for their ability to grow plants, crops, food, even here in the far North. When she married my father, she came to live here, in the Frostfawn Hold. We are mostly hunters and see to the raising of animals – for work, for riding, pulling sleds, meat. When my older brother and I got married, we were given additional space for ourselves and our new families, but still connected to that of our parents. My younger brother has yet to marry but it will be the same for him. We all live in one another’s pockets, you could say. It can be difficult, at times. But it teaches you how to get along, and solve differences quickly and without bitterness.” They had reached the entrance to one of the many branching parts of the Hold buildings, and he opened the door and they stepped inside. Certainly, Zed should feel warmer already, away from the outdoor temperature. With a nod, Garran indicated that they would take the passage to the left. “I live with my parents, two brothers, a sister-in-law, and two nieces. But don’t worry. There’s always room for one more.” Even one with a big mouth and a swollen head, he thought with another grin, though he kept the thought to himself. “And yes, I do love my mother, very much. Yeah, she can be a bit bossy, but I know she just wants me to be happy – even if she hasn’t quite come around to seeing what would make me happy.” His expression and tone had become the slightest bit introverted, as he mulled some private thought over. As he did, Zed added that last little quip. "I don't know what to say when I meet her. I think I should probably just not talk," his face suddenly filled up with a grin, "Maybe I should ask for her permission to stumble into your sheets." Garran laughed at that. “I don’t think it’s possible for you not to talk!” He shot the Inarta a wry look, and shook his head a bit. Truly, it didn’t seem likely that Zed would ever be at a loss for words. To the rest of that bold suggestion, he said only, “And you can ask for that permission, but I doubt you’ll get it. It’s one of those things my parents would prefer not to think about. My sheets are yours to fill – I just might not be there when you do.” He really chuckled over that one, and the fact that the Inarta seemed to take his own dignity far too seriously and didn’t share in the frequent laughter of the more easy going Vantha didn’t bother Garran. If Zed thought him much like a braying jackass, oh well. It was what it was… He cast another sidelong glance at the redhead. Zed had made it clear that he had no compunction about being with another guy, although it might have just been a jest. Garran wasn't entirely sure - maybe Zed was just trying to insult him, or rattle his cage. In Vantha society, men who liked other men weren't really the norm and usually trying to find out if another guy was of like mind took a lot more subtle give and take. Apparently, such was not the case with the Inarta, or possibly it was just Zed's way - and certainly the guy didn't seem to have a subtle bone in his body. So Garran wasn't prepared in any way to make a really direct reply that would indicate what his own preferences were. Time would tell, it seemed. They had continued walking, making a turn here and there, and now they were approaching the hall that led to his front door, so to speak – the door that lead into their main, shared living area. At this time of day, there was no telling who would be there or not – most of the adults would be working and the two little girls in school. Garran wasn’t sure if it would make things easier or more difficult for him, whether there would be others around to perhaps have a softening effect on Zed’s sharp tongue. He sort of doubted the guy cared two figs for what he said to whom. Garran really didn’t want to hear his mother – or any of the others – being insulted. Then he’d definitely have to call Zed on his rudeness, death dealing wind eagle or no. Garran was well able to let most of the snarky things Zed had said so far roll right off his back, and perhaps once the guy got warmed up his humor would improve. At least one could hope so. They reached the door, which was ornately carved and inlaid with ivory and silver. Garran halted there and before placing his hand on the door knob, he said with a serious tone, “Things are obviously quite different where you have lived, Zed. But – not that you owe me anything – I…I’d appreciate it if you could, maybe, try to be a little less…blunt, around my family. They are good people – wonderful people. And they will truly show you Vantha hospitality – I’m sure they’d be thrilled to hear about Wind Reach and what it’s like to fly on an eagle. So…even if you don’t feel it, maybe you could…tone it down a little?”