Closed First Impressions

[Enoleus Frostfawn]

14th of Summer, 513 AV

All was absolute silence, a bitter stillness inhabiting the spaces around the void as a single flickering light called out in the distance. Enoleus narrowed his eyes, finding his vision swayed and faltered as if water were rushing down his face, and took a hazy step forward toward the light. The ground beneath him was just barely visible, though Enoleus couldn't fathom by what light he saw it at all, and was a perfect sheen of ice - mirror like in its perfection, just like Mirror Lake. He stumbled as he caught his own eyes in his reflection, freezing a moment as he felt the blood in his veins run cold, his throat tightening as he raised his hands up to his face. His body was gone, he had no form, no features - the only part of him still tethered to reality was his eyes, which glared back at him from his reflection in the ice like red circlets of billowing fire. He felt his chest tightening as he turned back toward the distant light, and took off in a sprint towards it, each breath he drew becoming more and more a struggle.

The ice beneath him crumbled, giving way to the endless void - and though Enoleus could not explain why, in his heart he felt that dropping into it would mean the end of him. Perhaps his soul would remain, but so twisted and fragmented that no longer would it be recognizable as him. He moved with acrobatics that were vastly beyond him, jumping and twisting, landing on what was left of the ice with a skid before jumping again. The light seemed agonizingly close, yet still so very far away as Enoleus' vision began to narrow. The ice had run out, and just as the last bit of it beneath him crumbled away, Enoleus dove forward, his fingers outstretched toward the free floating light as he felt his body beginning to descend into the absolute nothingness beneath him. His whole body was blanketed in a frozen chill, but as is fingertips brushed against the warm, motherly glow of the light, he felt a wave of heat pass over his body. His vision flashed blue and red, the void beneath him suddenly alight with the light of a thousand stars, the arms of the galaxy visibly turning as he fell away from the light. As he fell, gaining more and more momentum, he closed his eyes, drawing one final, easy breath...

...

Enoleus jerked upright, throwing his blanket off him as the sensation of falling caused his body to snap him out of his dream on a reflex. Immediately as he sat up, he let out a groan and would fall backwards into his bedding again, his eyes clamping shut as reality greeted him much like it always did: with a pounding head and the sensation of a horse kicking his stomach from the inside. Thanks to several deep tankards of ale at the Red Diamond, Enoleus had found the peace in his mind to allow him to actually fall asleep, yet always there were repercussions to the temporary asylum offered by alcohol. Enoleus continued to lay there, his eyes clamped shut as he desperately tried to pretend that he was still asleep, some part of his mind that had still not matured up to par with the rest of him assuring him that just pretending that the morning had not dawned would make it so. More than anything, the fragmented images from the place his mind had been moments before he awoke disturbed him. Almost all nights his thoughts were plagued by blood and death, swords clashing like the rhythmic ringing of bells and deep, eternally burning fires. Yet this apparition that had came to him was less horrifying than it was simply confusing, and though he hated to think about it, part of him had grown accustomed to the tortures his subconscious subjected to him on a nightly basis.

Was he genuinely changing, then? He often awoke in a state of fear, yet the fear of his mind changing frightened him even still. The terrors that haunted his dreams were his burden to bear; the penance he paid for his own ineptitude and weakness. There was nothing he could do to redeem himself for the sins he had committed; and so it followed logically that the visions should plague him for the rest of his days. He grit his teeth, sitting upright as his eyes slowly peeled open, feeling like someone had placed weights on his eyelids. Trying to banish the thoughts of last nights dream scape back into the void of his subconscious to be dealt with later, he took out his water skin and would hold it over his head, emptying its contents over his face. He let out a short gasp as a sudden, bracing chill met his skin, forcing his eyes all the way open as he stood up, letting out a raspy growl.

Most outsiders would find summer in Avanthal still unpleasantly cold, but so enamored with winters grasp was Enoleus that the moderately warmer weather the Vantha experienced in the summer still was mildly irritating to him. Enoleus reached up, rubbing at his face to feel the scraggly wisps of black facial hair that had accumulated over the night. He frowned slightly at the sensation, a touch of shame shadowing his eyes as he rummaged around his tent, trying to locate his razor. Legally he was a man now; he had the gnosis mark to show it. Therefore, he felt it only right and just that his body should award him with a full, manly beard, not the adolescent scraps that he was being forced to be content with. Thankfully, it didn't take much to clear his face of such indecency: he didn't even need the assistance of a mirror as he carefully dragged the razor across his chin and cheeks, ridding his face once again of it's pathetic attempts at rugged masculinity.

He packed his razor, as well as his bedroll and everything else in the tent back up. Deciding that the first thing he would do is give Sleet a visit at the stables, but only after he got his tent packed up, he hefted his pack onto his back and opened the flap of his tent-

Yellow briefly flashed in Enoleus' vision as the crown of his skull came into direct and unexpected contact with a wall of ice. Enoleus fell down onto his ass, his eyes clamping shut as he let out a short cry; though the noise was mostly elicited out of shock than out of pain. He reached up and rubbed his forehead slightly, his eyes opening as he took in a moment to get his bearings, taking the entirety of the situation in before he did anything else that might result in a concussion. He had noticed in his tent that the amount of light filtering in through was lower than it should have been, but Enoleus had dismissed it. It was not at all unusual for clouds to move in above Avanthal and muffle both light and sound, but here, well, this was certainly something Enoleus had never had to contend with before.

All around Enoleus tent, meticulously crafted, was an igloo. Blocks of ice, stacked with time and care, encased him on all sides. Enoleus stood back up, brushing snow off the backside of his pants as his eyebrows furrowed with confusion. This was most certainly not an act of nature, and he couldn't even fathom who would take the time to do this. If he had inadvertently done something illegal, the Icewatch would have just dragged him off, not taken the time to encase him in such a almost comical fashion. Enoleus sighed, shaking his head as he lifted his foot, kicking violently at the ice. The entirety of the igloo shook a bit, but not a single block of ice even budged. The structure as a whole was too sound for such a tactic to work. "Ivak!" He cursed, raising his foot to continue slamming the sole of his boot into the ice for several more minutes, each one becoming more and more desperate as his breathing started to increase. The kicks began to slow down and eventually stop, as Enoleus leaned over, bracing himself on his knees to catch his breath.

This isn't working... He thought, gazing at the spot he had been kicking. I just need to be smart about this.

Enoleus reached up with his left hand, resting it gently against the surface of the ice. With his right hand he would reach up, his eyes narrowing with focus and intent as he tapped his index and middle fingers against the snowflake shaped mark on his neck. Under the power of his gnosis mark, the ice cracked slightly - just barely visibly. Enoleus would move his operating hand to a different segment of the ice, and tap his gnosis mark again, another short burst of power from the mark causing more hairline fractures in the ice to appear. Again and again, moving up and down and left to right, he repeated the process, reaving a network of small cracks in the ice. Satisfied with the work he had done, Enoleus backed up slightly, taking in a deep breath and holding it in order to steady himself.

Letting out a battlecry of sorts, Enoleus ran shoulder first into the center of the area of ice had been working on, and weakened as it was, it shattered under his efforts. He burst through and hit the ground on the other side, his eyes narrowing as the full light of the morning sun hit him for the first time. He lay on the ground a moment longer, before pushing himself forward and rolling onto his feet. As he did, his hand found his boot, drawing out his tamo daggers and unsheathing them as his eyes glanced around for...

Well, honestly, he wasn't sure what he was looking for. He just wanted to be ready for it, whatever it was.

[Meville Brightshade]

The mysterious tent man.

Well, to be accurate, the term was actually plural. Though few, there were some who chose to live in tents around the city of Avanthal rather then a hold or the Warrens. Without a mark, those who chose to do so ran the risk of losing their lives each night they did so. It was a curious fashion of living that Meville couldn't even begin to comprehend, so he had taken to following around a particular tent of a particular tent man for the last couple months. It wasn't a full time affair, to be sure. He went about it like a casual game, seeing if he could spot the new location the man had chosen for the night. In truth, Meville wasn't even entirely certain what the tent man even looked like. He could recognize the man's tent, but never had he seen anyone go into or out of it. Again, Meville hadn't really set aside time to do any sort of investigating short of attempting to spot it on his way home after whatever shenanigans he'd decided to partake of that day. Still, the curiosity had eventually gotten the best of him.

Meville wasn't about to approach the situation like some civilized buffoon. Simply performing the equivalent of whatever knocking was to a tent and asking to speak with the one inside wasn't enough for him. In fact, it was so entirely and utterly boring, Meville feared he would have simply given up if that were the only course of action available to him. Instead, he'd chose a much more... elaborate way of greeting his mysterious tent man. The whole idea had been much more appealing in theory than in practice, but Meville had decided to go ahead with it anyway: encase the tent in an igloo, then freeze the whole thing into an icy prison. It had certainly been a tedious endeavor, but he'd pushed through. His absence of a Gnosis mark made everything all the more difficult, but with the aid of his gloves and cloak, he'd managed to fend off the worst of the cold during his architectural endeavor.

It had taken most of the night. Several instances of the man within the tent letting out noises that seemed as though he might wake made it all that much slower. The blocks of snow he'd used felt as though they'd taken years to smash together, and stacking them past his waist had been even more arduous. When the show blocks all found their place, the little igloo looked a bit sad and lopsided. He'd remedied that with many, many buckets of water. Once the liquid was poured over the snowy structure, the "bricks' had frozen. The overall appearance was that of a dome caught in the middle of melting, but it served it's purpose. Meville had been rather pleased with his first attempt at trapping someone within the confines of a tent through the manipulation of snow. It certainly wouldn't have won any artistic plaudit from the Skyglows.

Seeing as he'd spent the majority of his time working when he should have been sleeping, Meville had opted to just practice his juggling to pass the time. He was getting progressively better with his physical body, though it was still worlds easier to accomplish the feat using his projected limbs. With the completion of his project, Meville still had several bells until Syna finally decided to poke her head out over the horizon to denote the start of a new day. By that time, he was rather exhausted and had dozed off against the frozen mass of ice he'd spent so long creating. His cloak and jacked fended off the worst of the cold, but he still shivered slightly in his light sleep until a cry of shock snapped Meville out of his little slumber.

He quickly pushed himself of the igloo and looked with confused and tired eyes at the dome. When the icy mound let out an "Ivak!", Meville took several steps back and gave the icy structure a concerned frown. "Well that wasn't very nice." His words were muttered in a soft, condescending whisper that was covered up by the sound of struggling from within the igloo. "It's like watching a bird hatch from its egg, I'd imagine!" He kept his voice low, choosing to move in towards the imprisoned tent with cautious steps until he could press his ear against it to hear a bit better. The sounds of struggling were replaced with the subtle cracking of ice. These sounds continued for a short while until they were shattered by the force that sent he from which it came upon the ground in a mess of legs and shattered snow.

Meville covered his lips that had curved into a smile with a gloved hand, the corners of his mouth twitch with laughter. The man upon the ground seemed to be dazed for about half a chime before he rapidly drew two daggers from who knew where and took a fighting stance. That was Meville's cue to slowly move his hands into a position of innocence and impotence so as not to alarm the tent man. Well, "man" might not have been the proper noun to represent the boy who lay in front of him. There couldn't have been more than a couple years dividing the two of them, in Meville's favor as elder, but age meant little when it came to immanent danger. "Good morning!" Meville's singsong voice bounced about the quiet venue the young man had chosen as his preferred area for camp that night. As his bright blue eyes began to regain the spark of awareness that had left during his short nap, Meville realized the one before him appeared to be more Vantha than anything else. In case the young man didn't speak common, Meville coughed slightly before trying again in Vani. "Ah, good morning! You broke out of there so fast, I'm not sure if it was worth building at all."

His last comment sounded incredibly disheartened, an accurate reflection of his feelings. He'd hoped the structure would hold long enough for him to taunt the one trapped inside, perhaps even be rewarded with bribes. Sadly, that was not the case. Instead, the young man looked at him with appraising eyes and daggers in both hands. In a fair fight, Meville lost hands down. Of course, if it came down to it, he wasn't above using his magic to get him out of life threatening situations. He just rather preferred not to. It didn't seem as if the other man was bent upon shoving a blade into his heart, so that was a good sign. Now that they had, more or less, met face to face, he felt it time for an apology, explanation, and introduction. "About that-" Meville gestured to the now broken ice igloo. "It seemed a more interesting way to get your attention. I'm Meville, by the way." He moved to extend a hand in greeting, but thought against it, choosing instead to leave it next to his ear, palm facing the young man as did his other hand."I was just so curious about your tent. I couldn't help myself when I realized how helpless you are once you're out!" He giggled slightly, but stopped himself with a grin, trying not to let his sleep deprived brain go overboard on anything."All that aside, I'd very much like to take you to breakfast."

[Enoleus Frostfawn]

14th of Summer, 513 AV

Enoleus wasn't exactly sure what to expect when he drew his weapons. Now, Enoleus was a fair shot with the bow in his own right, but he certainly wasn't any sort of warrior, and he was rather certain that anyone with the power to have constructed his icy imprisonment would easily have bested in him in single combat. So yeah, expected some icy mage wielding a glowy staff and wearing a pointy hat, or maybe some expert level ice reaver here to deliver Morwens wrath, for whatever reason, upon Enoleus. I mean sure, those things would have been horrible, and likely have resulted in an abrupt end to his life, but at least in this scenarios, he would have known exactly what to think and what to feel.

Still holding his combat stance, he stared with incredulity at the blonde haired human as he spoke, his mouth agape. He wasn't really intending to fight anymore, he just wasn't certain how else he should be holding his body. "Good morning!" He called out in common to Enoleus, an egregious level of innocence tinting his voice before the man switched to Vani. "Ah, good morning! You broke out of there so fast, I'm not sure if it was worth building at all." Enoleus slowly lowered the daggers, his mouth still agape as he stared wordlessly at the human. Of all the absurdities he had experienced in his life, he couldn't even begin to fathom what mental delusion had driven this... This Tikita, to spend valuable time in his life engaging in such a seemingly pointless endeavor.

Enoleus knelt down, sheathing the Tamo daggers and tucking them back into his boot as the human continued to speak in Vani. "About that-" Enoleus had his eyes preoccupied with getting his weapons re-secured, but assumed that the human made some gesture toward the still largely intact ice structure. So here comes the part where he explains himself... Enoleus thought as he stood back up, folding his arms over his chest, still staring at the human with silent incredulity written all over his face, his eyes a strange shifting mixture of red and violet. This ought to be good.

"It seemed a more interesting way to get your attention. I'm Meville, by the way." The human looked like he was about to do something with his hand, but then opted against it. Enoleus narrowed his eyes somewhat at this, tensing visibly as the swirling tempest in his eyes began to take a hint of orange, but he remained silent and motionless as he waited for the human - Meville, apparently, to finish up his greeting. "I was just so curious abot your tent. I couldn't help myself when I realized how helpless you are once you're out!" As Meville finished the sentence and started to giggle, Enoleus arms relaxed, his mouth slowly opening once again as he found himself involuntarily shaking his head in disbelief. At this point, he couldn't even bring himself to be angry anymore. If anything, he was downright impressed. Sure, this guy was an absolute nutcase, but as Enoleus was relatively certain he wasn't an Ice Reaver simply because he wasn't a Vantha, that meant he must have spent a large chunk of the night building the little Igloo by hand. A cold, and unforgiving task to be sure, and to put yourself through all of that just for the sake of making a first impression, well..

Well, honestly, it was insane, but it still sparked a twinge of admiration in Enoleus. He was an explorer at heart, and a discoverer. He wanted to see new things and experience different people - and while he had always assumed he needed to leave Avanthal for such things, here was a little slice of adventure he could call his own. His eyes softened, becoming a dull, relaxed shade of silver as Meville concluded, "All that aside, I'd very much like to take you to breakfast." Enoleus took a deep breath, faltering a moment as he struggled to find the right words, his mind still in a state of disbelief at the entire ordeal. Maybe I'm still dreaming...

"...Y-Yeah. I don't see why not." He finally managed to blurt out, "I usually eat with my horse anyways." He paused a moment, realizing that last part might seem kind of odd to someone not native to Avanthal and unaware of how Frostfawns treated their animals. He thought about adding another statement to clarify, but he was still almost half asleep, and decided against it. Clearing his throat, he took a step toward Meville, extending a hand in greeting. "I'm uh, I'm Enoleus. Frostfawn hold, I guess." As he finished the statement, he inclined his head toward the tent. "Uhm... Would you mind helping me pack up my tent?"

[Meville Brightshade]

The incredulous look upon the man's face was more than enough recompense to make up for the time Meville had spent to create his rather elaborate first "hello". Strangely enough, the man seemed to take the whole thing rather well. The weapons were sheathed and replaced with the open hand of one stranger to another. It was all rather mundane, but Meville had had enough of the strange for one cycle and decided shaking the extended appendage was the best course of action at that point.

"A Frostfawn? I see."

He offered a knowing smile in regards to Enoleus's horse. At first, the statement had been odd, though not entirely unheard of. The main source of question was due to the horse being absent from the scene. As a Frostfawn, however, Enoleus had rather liberal access to the Hold's stables. It was much better for a horse to spend the night within the warm safety of a stable than the harsh, unforgiving cold of Avanthal. Still, it was a pleasant surprise that Enoleus was taking everything so well. True, he wasn't entirely the most eloquent at the moment, but Meville was more than willing to chalk that up to him having just woke up under unprecedented straits. The very fact the other man had properly introduced himself as a member of the Frostfawn hold was just icing upon the very proverbial cake. It didn't seem as though the other man was much of a socialite, even during his more prime mental states, but that only made everything that much more enjoyable.

"Help you? Certainly!"

Meville clapped his hands together on the last word, swiveling his attention to the partially demolished igloo. He bit his lower lip, letting the rest of his face fall into a slight, contemplative frown. It seemed the best way to pack up the tent was to first remove at least two thirds of the snowy structure to make the tent accessible. Seeing as he was the one who had put the obstacle in the way in the first place, Meville decided it was best if he were the one to primarily deal with it now. He offered Enoleus a happy grin as he made his way back to the snow blocks, using his legs and shoulder to shove the blocks off and onto the ground. It was much easier now that the roof was now lying about on the ground around the tent. Getting into the rhythm of it, Meville tossed a couple questions at the tent man, Enoleus.

"What do you and your horse normally eats?"

His Vani was much better than it had been when he had first started learning. In fact, his vocabulary had grown in leaps and bounds. The main problem was the conjugation of verb tenses, as well as several grammatical errors that were often easy to mispronounce. All in all, he was much more comfortable conversing in Vani, but he was far from perfection.

"I thinking - er, was thinking - we could check the Frozen Falls. I've heard good things about some kind of meat from one of those stalls."

Did Frostfawns eat meat? Meville wasn't entirely sure. They were all about animals and husbandry, but he couldn't remember if they were morally against eating the beasts they loved so much. To be fair - in favor of the Frostfawns - the tended to bond with horses or ferrets, animals not really intended for mass consumption. He thought about asking Enoleus, but found himself losing his balance and landing upon the hard, unforgiving ground with a sound thunk. He shook his head in surprise, taking a few moments before he managed to push himself back to his feet, knocking a few blocks of snow down in the process. He gave the other man a whimsical chuckle, laughing off his rather ungraceful fall, before glancing around at the now better exposed tent.

"What to do now? Do we just... roll it up?"

[Enoleus Frostfawn]

Enoleus sighed, listening to the stranger talk and clear away ice from around his tent, his arms folded over his chest. It was true that Enoleus had grown somewhat tired of the monotony of his day-to-day existence, so in many ways, this was a welcome change of pace. Yet something about this man - or, boy, really, he couldn't be many years Enoleus' senior and his face had a youth glean too it - stuck Enoleus as odd. It was the sort of feeling one got when certain of being watched by unknown eyes from an unknown location - ambiguous, yet mildly unnerving. He watched as Meville fell haphazardly into the snow, before standing back up and asking Enoleus what should be done next. "Well, I'm a hunter by trade. I generally eat bits of what I catch, and sell the rest off. Been trying to save up money, actually, but..." He sighed, shaking his head. "I'm not all that good, to be frank, so it's been tough going. In any case, if you know a good place to pick up some food, I'm open minded. I usually pick up some grains and fruits for Sleet at the market about this-" Enoleus paused, his face becoming unusually tense. His noise began to crinkle, his eyes slowly starting to crossed as he raised his head up slightly. " Ah...Ahhhh..." His hands flew up to his face, intercepting his nose just in time as an uproarious sneeze erupted from his face, damn near blowing his socks off. He leaned over slightly, gasping for air as a chill from the impressive fever he was boasting ran down his body. He had spent most of yesterday with his hands in warm water, and had regained a little bit of feeling in his fingertips - but the nasty stab on his leg still ached, and his fever had gotten worse - he could tell by the burning sensation on the back of his neck. He feigned a smile to Meville, regaining his composure. Even though he was standing up straight, his initial adrenaline rush was all but purged from his body, and he found the pain in his left leg too intense to put any but marginal weight on it - and it showed. "Maybe we can uhm... Find a healer, first? I've been feeling a bit... under the weather the last couple of days..." He let that statement hang as it was, sneezing again into his hands as he limped over to his tent. Many years of living out of it had given him a quick hand when it came to packing up his belongings for the day, but he worked intentionally slower than normal, not wanting to strain his body any more than it already felt he had. He had no one to be angry at but himself for his current predicament, and the meager money he had made for the hunt two days ago would likely not cover the amount he would lose from his rapidly depleting strength. His belongings packed up, he turned to Meville, shaking his head as he spoke in a nasily, congested voice. "Well uh..." He trailed off, finding it difficult to formulate a coherent thought.

[Meville Brightshade]

Meville jumped back slightly as the other man let out an ungodly explosion of sound with little but a few moments of warning before. Suddenly, Meville's tent man - or Enoleus - was looking much worse for wear than a few moment ago. In fact, had Meville been paying closer attention to the man's physcial attributes rather than his more abstract traits, he may have noticed the haggard breathing, flushed cheeks, and overall sickly disposition. He had, to an extent, realized these things, yet he'd chalked it up to surprise and adrenaline more than actual physical ailment. Now though, Enoleus looked like the sort of creature one would expect to find on a bed in the Whitevine's hold.

He'd been a bit too startled by the sneeze to really comprehend what Enoleus had said about food, but it didn't really matter all that much as the man's next suggestion was much more to their mutual benefit: Meville for peace of mind and Enoleus for, well, avoiding his inevitable end a good while longer. On top of his apparent illness, Enoleus seemed to have injured his leg to the point where pressure upon it seemed to be more than a bit bothersome. Meville nodded at the suggestion, biting on his lower lip as Enoleus turned to finish packing. He moved slowly, like one might imagine a body might if submerged in pudding. It was understandable, yes, but it didn't detract from the agonizing wait Meville found himself forced under. He stood there, appraising the man stooped before him, unable to really assist as there were no directions given nor really any sort of invitation.

Once more, the tent man stood, though this time he teetered slightly, daring gravity to challenge in him a duel he would most certainly lose. Meville clapped his hands together in a business-like fashion, nodding his head as he did so for emphasis. "To the Healing Center!" Now that Meville was aware of the Enoleus' weakened state, it made pushing him around all the more easy. Meville quickly snatched up the neatly rolled tent, slinging it over his back as he welcomed the warmth the tent's contact gave his chilled spine. Grinning at Enoleus, Meville moved to offer the man an arm to lean on but decided against it, choosing instead to move off in the direction of the center. Enoleus was a Frostfawn, after all. However welcome leaning upon another might have been, Meville found it may have been a bit embarrasing to be dragged along like some cripple (though he supposed that's exactly what Enoleus was at the moment).

He kept his pace slow and steady, not allowing himself to get too far ahead of the Frostfawn for fear he might collapse or grow too weary to catch up. "What did you do to yourself? Is that from the hunting?" He spoke to the side and slightly behind him, as he had positioned himself to the front left from Enoleus' perspective. It made conversation slightly awkward, but seeing as Enoleus had waited for at least a night to go check in with the Whitevines, perhaps he didn't know where they were. It was unlikely, but Meville was doing his best to make things easier on the man. He felt a slight tinge of regret at how he'd managed to get the poor man to start his morning, though it remained small as the excitement and glee far outweighed his remorse.

Common | Vani

[Enoleus Frostfawn]

14th of Summer, 513 AV Enoleus' palms masked his face from another explosion of mucus as he hurriedly limped after Meville, his arms wrapping around his body afterwards as he let out a discontented, gurgled groan. It felt like his skin was afire and his nose was draining directly into the back of his throat like a faucet leaking tree sap. He was a tad bit uncomfortable with someone else carrying his home - and essentially, the only belonging he had that let him live in any comfort at all - but was silently grateful for the reduced burden. As the obvious question was directed at Enoleus, he smiled softly, glancing down at the haphazard bandage he had applied to the stab on his thigh. "Well... Yeah, actually." Despite the foul symphony of burns and pains in his body as he limped just behind his new acquaintance, he was actually a bit excited. He had always enjoyed listening to the tales spun around the fire in the Red Diamond of the grand hunts and adventures others had had, and now he had his own somewhat modest tale to spin. He smiled, trying to perk himself up to add a bit of life to the story as he unraveled it from his memory, which was still vibrant and fresh. "See, it was two days ago, I was out hunting in the Northern Wastes. Pretty standard stuff for me, I'm not terribly gifted so I generally stick to small stuff. Talderan Snowhares are a good target, I've gotten pretty good at spotting their burrows in the snow and their pelts fetch a decent price." He braced his hand on his injured leg to support his body more as he kept up with Meville at a decent pace, trying not to strain himself so he wouldn't be gasping through his rendition of the tale. "I did manage to pick up the trail of a snowhare pretty early out in my hunt, so I started trying to track it. It was high noon when I started, but I must have been out there for hours, and by the time I found the end of the tracks, the sun was moving into the west and I couldn't see Avanthal in the horizon due to a pretty nasty snowstorm moving across the tundra." He motioned with his hand, his eyes narrowing with concern as he recalled the twinge of panic that had set in. " The winds had already whipped away the tracks I had left on the way back, so finding my way back into Avanthal wasn't really an option. I didn't have the supplies to handle an extended stay in the wastes as I don't usually head so far out, but I had to do something or I was going to get buried in snow. Gnosis or not, I would still have frozen to death." At this point, he had actually managed to keep pace completely with Meville, but he wasn't looking at Meville - instead, he gazed forward, as if still stranded on his desperate hunt. "Luckily, I managed to find a few trees. Avanthalian pines, maybe four or so in a small thicket. Big and sturdy enough that they broke up the wind and the snowfall; at least enough to let me catch my breath and clear my head." He turned to Meville. "I wish it had ended there. I wish I could say that I sat out the storm in that thicket and just went home empty handed. My life, though, is seldom that easy." He turned his gaze away from Meville again, staring intently at the ground. "When you spend enough time in the wilderness, you start to develop a... Feel for things. Even if you spend most of your time as the predator, you still can tell when your being stalked." He raised a hand, balling it into a fist for emphasis. " The subtle, weighted crunching of the snow from an foreign entity. The deep, barely audible growl reverberating through your very bones from behind you, just as you think your safe. The hair standing up on the back of your neck. I turned my body around slowly, and found myself staring into a pair of giant, feline, eyes." He turned to Meville with a soft smile, before raising a hand up to intercept another sneeze, his whole body yanking. He let out another groan, pulling his body back up and trying to uncross his eyes. "...Ngg. It was huge, and it was hungry. Talderan Sabertooth; several hundred pounds of muscle adorned in white furr and with razor sharp fangs.... And it was staring right at me, less than ten feet away." He turned away, shaking his head as he continued, though his voice was more withdrawn. He sounded somewhat sad, or at the very least, disappointed. "I just... froze up. Every cell in my body was so wracked with terror that no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't move. It was... unreal."

[Meville Brightshade]

Ah, so Enoleus was a true Vantha through and through. Once the spark had been lit, the full inferno of his story blazed on in his musical language such that Meville found himself slowing even more as he concentrated on the words flowing from the other man's lips. Even Meville could tell from the exaggerated enunciation it was a tale of epic proportions (at least in the eye of the one relaying it), so he made sure to respond appropriately to the rise and fall of Enoleus' voice, even if certain specifics escaped him.

He'd never really been big on hunting in general. Animals weren't really his cup of tea, but he tended to be a bit averse to straight out killing them. He'd done enough of that to last him a good long time. So when prices and rewards and such were discussed regarding pelts and the like, Meville was often surprised by what was valuable and what was common. In this case, a "decent price" lacked the monetary value to make much sense to him, so he just nodded knowingly as his companion continued.

Meville could not even being the fathom the patience required for hunting. Several hours alone in the tundra tracking a rabbit? That sounded like some sort of cruel punishment more than an enjoyable past time that make a pretty penny on the side. At mention of the snowstorm, Meville nodded again, this time a bit more enthusiastically than before. He'd had to coop himself up in his room and reread the majority of his mother's journal to calm his stir crazy tendencies when he was forced to remain in a single place rather than by choice. The idea that Enoleus had been outside during the constant flurry of freezing white was enough to make him shiver in apprehensive disgust. As his companion had said, even with a mark it must have been extremely uncomfortable if not rather terrifying. Meville's opinion of his hobbling follow-behind was quickly leaning towards impressed rather than amused.

Luckily was an understatement, though from what Meville was understanding, it seemed Enoleus had gone pretty far out from the safety of the walls. Far enough out, there actually were copses of trees here and there, or so he'd been told. It was far too dangerous for him to even leave the walls by a few yards, let alone an entire day's journey. He became a bit lost in his own thoughts to properly follow the story at that point. Enoleus was starting to really dig into his storytelling, and metaphors and lush descriptions were a little out of Meville's reach. Still, he was able to follow the hushed tones of dramatic effect. When it was interrupted by a thunderous interruption, Meville jumped back and quickly drew in a lungful of air in surprise. He let out a nervous chuckle as Enoleus continued, trying to calm his heart rate back down to its usual rhythm.

The next part of the story was certainly the most interesting. A Talderran Sabertooth? Even Meville knew those sort of beasts weren't to be taken lightly, in fact, they really shouldn't be taken at all. He found himself whispering a quiet "wow" as Enoleus seemed to darken slightly in his physiognomy, as if his very natural reaction was something to be ashamed of. "What did you do?!" He had a special soft spot for stories, especially those of the Vantha variety.

Common | Vani

[Enoleus Frostfawn]

14th of Summer, 513 AV Enoleus took a ragged breath, the vibrancy of the memories in his mind causing his throat to involuntarily tighten. He swallowed against the dryness in the back of his mouth, a moment of silence passing between the two of them as Enoleus limped along side of his companion. "All I could keep thinking..." He began, his voice demure and raspy. "Was that I was about to die. I mean, I'm not a little kid... I know that it'll happen, someday, one way or another. But..." He turned to look Meville straight in the eyes as he continued. The blue hues in his lacked any of the life that a young pair of eyes usually would; they were glassed over and seemed to stare straight through Meville rather than directly at him. "This was the first time it felt so real. So concrete. It was staring right at me, and... To be honest, there was moment in that agonizingly long few seconds where..." He looked away, a feeling of intense shame grinding against him as he stared at the ground. "Where I kind of wanted it." He tensed visibly, speaking through barred teeth. "I couldn't though. My hands slowly inched for my daggers... It was all I could do to move at all. I got my hand wrapped around my dagger..." He lifted his left arm up. " ...Lifted as high as I could..." He would then swing his hand down, stopping just short of the wound on his thigh. "...and stabbed myself in the leg." He turned to stare Meville straight in the eyes, his lips slowly curving upward into a grin. " The sudden shock sent adrenaline coursing through my body. I found the will to move again, pulling the dagger from my leg I managed to dive out of the way as the beast bore down on top of me. I scrambled to my feet as fast as I could, but the animal wouldn't let up; it came crashing toward me again. I jumped on a nearby root, springing off it to grab a low hanging tree branch and pull myself up." He gritted his teeth, shaking his head. "The thing was right under me... so I had to jump for it. Landed on my bad leg; it was like a thousand knives shooting up my spine.Then, I just..." He shook his head, letting out a sigh. " I just ran. I ran as fast as my feet could take me."

[Meville Brightshade]

It seemed the young man was having a rougher time as they continued walking to continue his story, though Meville couldn't tell if it was because he was feeling worse or just caught up in the terrifying remembrance of his brush with death. He nodded sagaciously, though he doubted Enoleus' farseeing gaze really took in any sort of response he had to offer. As the other man turned away from him, a look of something close to disgust and shame upon his face, Meville frowned. Death was, as Enoleus had already said, a very real and certain part of any and every life. Embracing one's fate was anything but an indecent sort of reaction to have when faced with the sudden reality of one's own demise. He shook his head a bit sadly at the thought, but listened on as Enoleus continued with his tense, slightly muffled speech.

Meville found his eyes widening and mouth slowly falling open as his gaze followed the imaginary dagger up... up...! With a quick, but calculated movement, the hand whooshed down to hover just above Enoleus' wounded leg. They're eyes met: Meville's face a twisted medley of confusion, horror, and awe while Enoleus wore a sly grin in response. "W-why in Morwen's name...?" His explanation was a little confusing, as the word "adrenaline" wasn't currently in his vocabulary. From what Meville could discern, however, it seemed the sudden pain had been enough to snap Enoleus out of whatever sort of hypnotic trance he'd found himself in and deal with the matter at hand.

As the tale came to a close, Meville could only shake his head and grin. He let out a whistle of amazement as the Healing Center came into view, adjusting the weight of the tent a bit to a more comfortable position. "You run fast." There wasn't a whole lot to say about anything else as the entered through the heavy wooden doors into the main lobby of the center. Several attendants scurried about as two, grave looking Iceguards gazed suspiciously at the two newcomers. Meville just grinned and pointed at Enoleus' obvious limp. Apparently it was enough to put the two at ease such that they felt comfortable allowing passage into the main area of the first floor.

He gave Enoleus a happy grin as a young woman began to approach them. "Breakfast after, then." Gingerly, Meville unshouldered the tent, handing it to the young woman who gave him a bit of a glare as she received the surprisingly light package. He then patted Enoleus on the shoulder and winked. "Do not be the dying before I seeing you again, yeah?" He chuckled and turned to head off back to the Warrens to get some much needed sleep.

Outrunning a Sabertooth? That was certainly a feat. Apparently his tent-man had a bit more intrigue than just being a nomadic hermit. Certainly, he'd run into him again. Hopefully, under better physical condition.

Common | Vani