Closed Facing the Family (Shahar)

[Naiya]

43rd Day of Winter
Mid morning

Rue may have looked mildly worse for wear when she ducked out of the pavilion that morning, nothing the casual eye would have noticed, but not entirely herself either.

It was more subtle, found in the way her hair fell across her face unchecked, the slight rounding of her shoulders, and the half moons cuts on her palms from clenched fists.

She was leaving, seeking to find Shahar and bring him to meet her family. They had not left her alone about him since the evening when Teo had found her out late and not at work. Of course they assumed she was sleeping with strangers, refusing to believe her without the proof of meeting the man in question.

She had spent the morning preparing, a predominantly mental struggle, as her family around her did similarly, asking accusatory questions and demanding answers she had given over and over.

So when she finally managed to slip away it was with the heavy weight of her family's expectations pressing against her. It seemed as though her family was set on disliking the man. No matter of explanations would put the onslaught to rest. In the end she could only hope they would be somewhat polite.

"Shahar." Her voice was soft, his name a plea, though for what she couldn't have said.

[Colt]

In all honesty, Shahar wasn’t quite sure what to do. It was a situation that had been thrown at him repeatedly over the past several days.

After the night of Jalen’s arrival, Rue had returned with worry etched into every line of her body––her family had caught her out after dark and had made assumptions, and that meant something dire. The nature of the assumptions were unclear to him, but what was clear was that Rue wanted his help.

Rue wanted him to meet her family.

He had spent the morning in preparation of his own, although his information was limited; Rue did not speak often of her family, and when she did speak it was with… something less than joy. Every unsaid word hung heavily in his mind, even though he had never pressed farther, and it made him concerned––what was Rue’s family like, to inspire negativity?

Somehow, he felt the answer would be more upsetting than the question.

The hunter wasn’t quite sure what would be expected of him at this meeting––to his understanding, she needed to prove that he did, in fact, exist, but what beyond that? He might not have been the most civilized of Drykas, but he knew the ways of a pavilion and a family; respect went to the Ankal first, and then to his wives and siblings, and then to the rest in order of skill and honor. Respect was something Shahar could managed, but what else would be required? The last thing he wanted to do was alienate Rue, and if that meant he couldn’t alienate her family… he would have to navigate whatever terrain was set before him.

Tuka had sensed her partner’s unease and settled beside him as he waited on the outskirts of the camp. Almost unthinkingly, Shahar put his hand on her neck and scratched at the skin just behind her ears. The hunting cat began purring almost instantly and butted her head against his knee affectionately. He chuckled quietly.

When Rue found him, Shahar stood. The way she said his name only put him more on edge, but it was wrapped with determination; he could do this, for her if nothing else. She looked harrowed and stretched, and her voice was bordering on desperate.

“Rue.” He reached to touch her arm gently. “Are you alright?” Concern, readiness, willing to help, what is needed?

[Naiya]

I missed you.

It was the best explanation of her upset. Sure it's causes manifested in different ways, pestering questions, subtle insults, but the end result was the same. She had missed him. In fact, she would have traded anything but Wildfire to have been with Shahar rather than home this day past.

He reached out to touch her arm, and she let him, shifting towards him in a subtle welcoming of his touch. "I am well enough, it has just been stressful at home. Everyone is curious, or angry, or jealous. It is troubling."

Moving forward in her mind, she decided that business first was the best approach, so she jumped right to it.

"My family will be polite, I think. I even managed to haggle the audience down to my father, his wives, and their eldest children." She glanced around, settling her eyes on the cat that was settled beside Shahar. She still had trouble identifying the cats beyond the recognition that the ones in camp belonged to Shahar.

She detailed for him a short explanation, the names of her father, his wives, and brief descriptions of each so that he might recognize them. Her siblings followed, a less important mention than the others, but she imagined it was enough to keep him from being overwhelmed when they arrived. It would be wildly different in her home than the social environment here in his own camp.

She paused at the end of her monologue, waiting for some sort of response, be it positive or negative, before she continued.

"It is a lot to take in, my family at home is much different then," She hesitated, her mouth half forming the word 'our' before she changed her mind "The family you have here."

[Colt]

She shifted in acceptance of his touch. Almost without thought, Shahar continued, threading his arm around hers and half-consciously searching for her hand.

Her home had made her anxious, and it seemed the greatest contributor was her family itself. Another notch in Shahar’s rapidly descending opinion of them.

She wasted little time in launching towards what was waiting for him; names and expectations were given rapidly and carefully memorized. Achaius. Reiana. Alana. Mayeve. Children. Spectators. Shahar recognized each bit of information as it was given to him, tucking them all away for later use; from the tension in Rue’s shoulders, he assumed beforehand that it would be prudent to expect the worst.

She paused, and when it became clear that she was waiting for a reaction Shahar laced his fingers with hers supportively.

"It is a lot to take in,” she said. “My family at home is much different than… the family you have here."

From her descriptions, that was something Shahar already knew for certain.

“I will help however I can.” Determined, willing to defend. Love. He gave her hand a soft squeeze, and then blinked as a though occurred to him. “Rue.” Inquiry. “The red tunic,” should I wear?

[Naiya]

Shahar was careful to take in her words, and Rue could almost see him tucking each bit of information away as she spoke it. Adding to her relief was the gently way he tucked his arm around hers, the touch that had been so exotic and strange before, now no less exotic, yet it had grown comfortable and even communicative. She realized he had, while she piled information on him in an ever growing mountain, in every way he could, offered her comfort.

Support, help, love. He offered it all to her without hesitation or reserve. Moving further to relieve the tension that was more ready in coming than going was the lacing of his fingers with hers. She gave his hand a gentle squeeze.

This was the man she loved, and he was doing everything he could to support her. Better still, she knew he would continue to do so regardless of the outcome of this meeting with her family. That more than anything brought the smile to her face.

Though, perhaps the fashion advice had some effect as well.

"The red tunic does look very good on you." She considered for a moment, pondering the benefits of Shahar arriving dressed up against the possible problems that might arise. "Yes, I think you could wear it, but only if you will be comfortable." The dressier tunic would impress her family, but that was less important than being able to feel comfortable in what was already a stressful situation.

It pleased her that he had thought of such a thing, though perhaps it was merely a thought that arose from further attempts to settle Rue's own nerves. It didn't matter, for it made her happy in a way that she hadn't felt since her last departure from his presence.

Happy enough, in fact, that she felt she needed something more than the shaping of her hands and the set of her shoulders. So, she leaned in to kiss his cheek, leaving him plenty of time to see her movement and sense her intention. The gesture was not something she did often, and she was not sure Shahar would tolerate such a thing. So, she left him time to react.

[Colt]

She smiled--something that let Shahar know more than anything else that she was alright--and gave an affirmative. He nodded and disentangled himself from Rue, returning to his tent with serious determination to retrieve the tunic. Tuka turned her attention to Rue, purring hopefully and trying to sidle up to the woman in pursuit of attention.

The tunic was where it always was: the neat bag of what little variety of clothing Shahar owned, although since he had met Rue it was now much heavier than it used to be. The red tunic was near the middle, where it was safest from whatever might endanger the bag; Shahar retrieved it and slipped in on, soon realized it was backwards and turned it around. He was once again disoriented by the generous nature of the sleeves, which hung about his arms in a way that made him nervous of catching on things. Still, this was the mysterious creature known as “fashion,” and Rue seemed to know far more of it than he. If she said it was a good thing to wear, he would trust her.

Shahar emerged quickly, returning to Rue. Another thought occurred to him, and he paused halfway.

What I bring? He was accustomed to carrying his axe and javelins wherever he went, but he didn’t know if that would be appropriate. Weapon usual yes no? Sudden nervousness; gift? Gift good, yes no? He hadn’t thought of it before, and hadn’t prepared anything. Would it be rude to come empty-handed?

Worry saw itself into the lines of Shahar’s posture and his brow knit. This social business was more complicated than he was used to; he should have thought of this beforehand!

[Naiya]

He removed himself from her grasp, ducking into a tent with a determined look. It was almost humorous, until she remembered what situation called for such seriousness.

Almost as though sensing her change in mood, or perhaps for her own unrelated reasons, one of the female cats, rubbed up against her. A rumbling purr and a hopeful glance at Rue was more than enough to tempt the woman to crouch beside her and offer a hand. A quick sniff at her hand was inspection enough to allow Rue to pet her, and Rue did with enthusiasm. She had never seen a hunting cat like this up close, and her glimpses from afar were not sights that encouraged a desire to cuddle up to the large bred cats. This one, however, seemed more than happy to soak up Rue's attention.

The distraction lasted long enough for Shahar to change and stick his head back out into the world, approaching Rue and the cat who seemed to deliberate between who she would prefer to be pet by. Shahar stopped at a distance, posing a question that seemed to have only just occurred to him.

Not needed, safe enough without. She signed to him, not raising her voice across the distance. If want, small weapon would be okay, I carry mine. He was nervous, now, and worry crept across his visage.

She moved towards him, trying not to trip over the persistent cat at her feet. "A gift is a good idea, we can buy one on the way, or skip it, it is not important."

It was quite a strange situation they had gotten themselves into. This sudden headlong rush into family politics, it wasn't at all how she had expected such things to go. Traditionally there would have been courting with permission from her Ankal, chaperoned visits with her family and she with his, talk of the exchange of a Valitia for her own hand in marriage. A gradual merging of families.

But instead a chance meeting and a subtle draw to one another had changed entirely the plan for proper courtship.

Most important, she signed to him, giving up her attempt to close the distance with the feline at her feet in the way, is going together.

[Colt]

Tuka all but quaked under the force of her own purring; if there was one things she loved more than new people, it was new people that gave her attention.

Naiya paused as Shahar reemerged, now covered in the red shirt. She reassured him as panic began to descend upon his shoulders; a small weapon, or none at all. Perhaps a gift, or perhaps not.

His knife. He would take his knife. That was small enough, wasn’t it? But in terms of a gift… she told him that it wasn’t required. But it was good.

Shahar’s worry shifted into a motionless contemplation as he ran over what he had that might be suitable as a gift. He had little in the way of tools and items. But there were always furs of some sort or another around; perhaps…

… yes, he signed. I have a gift. He turned and made his way to the travois. There was a mass of cloth scraps that had once been a tent, and although it was too mangled to be used for any such purpose, the waxed canvas was still waterproof. Underneath it were the hides that he had for some reason or another chosen to keep––or rather, the single hide.

The encounter was a distant memory, one he did not often have cause to recall. That was before, when he was something a bit less than Drykas but a bit more than animal. The woman, what was her name? Vallora. That was it. He hadn’t run across her since that day, but this was still in his possession.

The nightlion had been young, a bit small, but strong. His mane hadn’t completely filled out at the time of his demise, and his hide wasn’t the largest or most lustrous of his kind, but it was still black and smooth from years of not being used for anything. He handled it gently, unwilling to risk damaging the pelt in any degree; he had never found use for it, but he was a hunter by trade. He knew how much a nightlion’s hide was worth, even a small one. It was his safest route for gifts.

He returned to Rue with the rolled-up pelt in his arms, hesitant offering in his posture. This, gift? he managed to indicate around his burden.

storyteller note :

Pelt obtained in this thread.

[Naiya]

Shahar was worried still, clear in the set of his shoulders, but he seemed to be thinking. It was best, Rue decided, to let him. So she turned back to the cat who purred endlessly as she paid her attention.

Though she scratched the cat's head, roaming beneath her chin or behind her ears as the cat so decided with a tilt of her head, her attention remained on Shahar. A steady survey as she watched worry still into contemplation of a deeper nature.

After some time had passed, though it hadn't seemed like long, Shahar stirred, seeming to come to a conclusion that caused him some pause.

'I have a gift.' He informed her, turning to the travois where he apparently had something that was deserving of care. Out of her sight he found something, his movement speaking of something akin to reverence.

She stood to meet his turn towards her, holding out his offering with a hesitance that caused Rue a momentary worry of her own. He offered it for her inspection, though she couldn't tell quite what the black bundle was at first. It may have been that she just couldn't wrap her head around the circumstances that would have landed such a thing in his hands, an unconscious refusal of what she saw.

When she was close she reached out to touch the black pelt and then stopped, holding her hand above the well kept skin.

"Shahar, this is.." beautiful, too special, rare, expensive her hands flitted from sign to sign, almost a nervous dithering between her thoughts and the relaying of them in her signing.

"Are you sure you want to give this away?"

[Colt]

Rue regarded the pelt without recognition. Shahar’s insecurity heightened; surely this would be enough? Wouldn’t it? What if it wasn’t? What would he do then? What else did he have that superseded the pelt? Questions fell upon one another, piling up as Rue came closer for a more thorough examination.

She reached out to touch, and then her hand stopped.

“Shahar,” she she breathed. “This is…” And then his worries were lifted. Beautiful. Too special. Rare. Expensive. She moved between all of them, almost as if she was hesitant to give it a concrete description. Relief washed over Shahar’s posture; this would be enough, if she spoke truly.

“Are you sure you want to give this away?”

Shahar looked at Rue, then down to the pelt. Another moment and his eyes returned to hers.

“It is what I have to give.”

He had kept it for so long… when he had slain the beast, it had been an unnecessary death. His anger at the lion’s death, his guilt… was that why he had kept it for so long? It hadn’t been the value of the pelt itself; he had traded enough skins for coin for the act to lose all meaning for him. But this… it was personal. The space it had taken for so long was proof enough of that.

He looked back down.

It had never had any use to them, not practically. It had simply existed, reminding him of death’s necessity. It reminded him of what not to do. It was valuable to him, but not in the way Rue described. He could not measure it with money.

It was time for this, which had become but a small, constant part of the whole, to find its use for something that meant as much as it did.