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Not found on any map, Endrykas is a large migrating tent city wherein the horseclans of Cyphrus gather to trade and exchange information. [Lore]

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Home With New Eyes (Naiya)

Postby Colt on December 17th, 2015, 4:49 am

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5th of winter, 515 a.v
mid morning

Syna was well into her morning climb, setting the recent snowfall on fire with glittering lights and twinkling rainbows through the ice. There was a hint of warmth to be found in her gaze, although it was superficial at best; the winter wind never ceased, breathing through the brittle brown grass and rattling it like an instrument that never ended. What creatures were out and about took advantage of the warmth, smelling fouler weather on the horizon and scrounging around for food while there was still clear air to scrounge in.

It was this scene that bore Shahar Dawnwhisper within sighting distance of Endrykas. The tents pierced the horizon, stubborn against the snow, and beckoned him closer, even while the grasses beckoned him to stay outside, with the plants and the animals and the wild things. They had a name for him now, all those wild things, a name in Nura that he didn’t know could ever be spoken in Pavi. They called him big brother, although that wasn’t quite it; there were also overtones of guardian and caretaker, although in Nura a word could be all of those things, and at the same time be none of them.

Amongst the Drykas, the word was known only as ‘Witch,’ which was a word that couldn’t even come close to describing the meaning.

Recognition, home. Akaidras’ feelings came through Shahar’s fingers on his neck, tempered by relief. His strider was more open with emotions than most creatures, apparently quite at ease with his rider’s new ability to communicate; it meant that Shahar would be able to hear a desire for scratching, or hear which hoof had a rock in it, or hear when he wanted treats. Akaidras had a different name for him, a more direct combination of partner, rider and sibling. Not that he needed to use it very often; the stallion had always been remarkably skilled at demanding specific things from Shahar, and now, on their way home, Nura only added images.

Not for the first time, Shahar found himself thanking the fact that the Dawnwhispers lived on the outskirts of the city. It made crowds something he could avoid, and conversation with strangers minimal.

What he was thankful for right now, however, was their shortage of neighbors.

To say that the man was disheveled would have been a vast understatement. He wasn’t disheveled; he was a mess. He had begun his journey wrapped up in winter clothes, long sleeves and a cloak, relatively clean in the grand scheme of Drykas hygiene. But upon his return, he looked as if he had walked through a disaster. A disaster with a large amount of death.

First and foremost, Shahar was splattered in no small amount of blood. It crusted the sleeves of his shirt, was splattered generously about his chest and neck and even stained his knees. It was in his hair and on his chin, spread in the pattern of the human hands and fingers that had put it there.

On his face there were three parallel scratches, red and angry, from his forehead to his cheek where the portly Roland had attempted to thumb out his eyes. His left eye hurt to blink, as one of Roland’s nails had scraped over the lid, but he could manage that pain well enough.

Not only was Shahar scratched and bloody, but he was also covered in a layer of ash. It was less prominent that the blood, but it was still there––as were the singe marks on the hem of his cloak.

Shahar was very glad no one outside the family had to see him before he got the chance to clean up.

He entered the camp from the far side, just as if he was returning from his morning trapping. He dismounted just within the boundaries, and despite himself, he hoped that he could make it in quietly––a hope that was shattered by a piercing cry of joy, preceding a spotted tawny blur that flashed out from under the wagon and made straight for the returning hunter.

Joy you return relief together happy love! Tuka’s eyes were screaming as she threw herself into Shahar’s arms. He grunted in pain as his shoulder was aggravated, Tuka didn’t notice; his absence had not been kind to her, and she didn’t care about Snow’s startled barking or Akaidras’ affronted whinny; her human was home, and anyone within earshot would hear it, too.
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Home With New Eyes (Naiya)

Postby Naiya on December 18th, 2015, 4:31 am

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Naiya was frantically busy, taking on every task that needed doing all at once. Anything to keep her mind from settling back on the daunting realization that her husband had ridden off into the sea three days ago and had still yet to return.

The dusting of snow was no deterrent, in fact it was only more motivation. In between its falling, Naiya had begun to oil the canvas of the pavilion. The family who had crafted the pavilion late in the fall said that they had not done the weatherproofing when the Dawnwhsipers picked it up. They had discounted her purchase of the necessary oil blend, and Naiya had picked up a few extra vials to add to their stores at home.

She was working the mix of animal fats and sealing oils into the canvas, having already seen to the top of the pavilion with it collapsed on the ground. She was finishing up the sides of the tent, paying extra attention to the seams and the panels that would have to be tied shut. She didn't want things leaking. The small circular motions were not so different from currying a horse, but the effort lasted much longer, and all too soon her arms began to ache. She glanced to the sky, deciding that a quick break was acceptable.

She turned to the outer fire, having not yet built one inside the shelter of the pavilion, mud had formed where the snow had melted around the pit. She pulled a cook pot from the travois, bring it with her as she approached the fire. She was careful to check that her foot didn't slip before trusting her step in the soft mud. She placed the pot into the fire, not centered in the flame, but on the edge, where she dragged some of the embers out away from the center of heat. She emptied her wetskin into the pot, letting the water warm.

The fire burned low, Naiya had been careful to keep the flame from growing towards the sky, instead using the smoke to slowly chase moisture from the flesh of the rabbit that she butchered earlier in the morning. The meat was still damp, but smelled of smoke when she pulled it from the fire. That would be enough, she thought, to flavor it in the future, and perhaps chase off the creatures that might otherwise take interest in it.

She spread a cloth, salting the sheet before pressing the meat across the surface, picking up salt where the meat was still damp. She added more salt, flipping the meat again, and then left it to sit while the salt did its work. Idle hands were not her friend, as soon as stillness fell over her she fell back to the distress she felt over her husband's extended absence.

The shining metal of her knife was sharp when she took it back after the carcass, cutting another section of meat from the bone with careful hands. Her slender fingers unafraid of the blood as she pulled the now cold flesh free from its prison. The same knife sharpened the end of the spit once more, carving away short curls of the wood to breathe new life into the tip. She whittled away the wood where meat from the last bit of muscle still clung, allowing it to join the other shavings in the fire.

Newly honed, the spit slid quickly through the slice of flesh, offering little resistance as she forced it down the wood. The two split pieces on either side of the fire held the pole above the heat, allowing the smoke to begin the drying process of the meat and keeping pests away meanwhile.

Focused on each detail of her physical toiling, she could almost drown out the nagging voice in her head that shrieked endlessly about her missing love. 'He could be hurt, stranded, dying!' The screeching continued, only growing louder as she thought about it. It was not a sound that could be reasoned with, not one that would go away. It could only be ignored, a feat made easier by her constant action.

The water was warmer, she scooped a bowl full, careful not to contaminate the rest of the water with blood. She rinsed her knife, chasing away blood with her fingers in the rapidly cooling water. The knife she dried on her sleeve, wiping the blade on the blue silk of her cloak, careful not to slice the fragile fabric. Her hands were next, soap and water cleaning the blood away so that she could return to the pavilion and finish oiling the last wall.

Arms refreshed by the different movements she returned to the oils, applying them to the canvas with what may have been more force than necessary. The burning in her arms once she finished at least had the unexpected benefit of being louder than the banshee in her head. She dipped her hands back in the wash water in the bowl, rinsing her hands in the icy liquid.

She dumped the water in the grass, giving it a slight rinse with fresh water. An activity that was for naught, as a piercing cry rang across the camp, the loudest sound she'd heard in days. It wasn't the cry, but the startled barking in return that snapped Naiya's head towards the sound, the bowl dropping from her hand in shocked relief.

"Shahar." It was the sound of her heart given voice, strained with emotion that threatened to spill out. The sight of him brought worry immediately back to her posture, chased by a number of flitting half signs on her hands, concern, missed you, fear, love, worry, joy, unsure,, all as she moved forward, taking in the sight of him, battered, bloody, covered in ash, alive.

That was all that mattered, not the blood, not the flash of pain across his features as the cat barreled into him. Those things could be fixed, clothing patched, wounds cleaned, pain treated.

"You're alive." Shock was prominent in her body, despite all the reassurances she'd had that he was alive disbelief still found its way into her posture.

The distance between them dwindled, becoming less and less until she could reach out and touch his face. She raised her hand, fingers, feather light, tracing the path of three angry red scratches that decorated his cheek. He was here, new relief washed over her, as she moved her hand across what seemed to be the source of the most blood, a wound in his shoulder, the shape of it not dissimilar from the knife she'd held in her hands only chimes ago.

The rest of the blood was old, drying or dry, and much of seemed not to be his, although there were small holes in his pants, likely with equally small wound behind them, although she couldn't tell without getting closer.

Shahar was home. The thought settled over her, a blanket of comfort. She raised her hand again, far less gentle as it swung through the air with all the strength she could muster. Her palm crossed his cheek, heedless of the wounds there, the sound echoing through her arm, feeling the tingle of impact all the way up to her shoulder.

It held between them for a long moment, but her anger was quickly overruled by her desire to be near to the piece of herself that had left with him. Careful of his injured shoulder she leaned up on her toes, a hand splayed on his chest for balance, so that she could press a kiss to his lips. .
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Home With New Eyes (Naiya)

Postby Colt on December 18th, 2015, 5:28 am

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Tuka struggled excitedly, trying to get closer to her partner and in an apparent attempt to merge the two of them into a single being. She chirped and purred and painted raw streaks across his face with her tongue, and he decided that it would be best to let her go until he could get a hand in edgewise. Snow continued to bark, more out of annoyance than anything, but it did absolutely nothing; Tuka continued to welcome home her Drykas, until her energy was spent and she paused to pant a few breaths, which was enough for Shahar to shove her back to the ground with an affectionate stroke, alongside a stern stay down.

“You’re alive.” The words rode the cold winter air, over the sound of the cat and dog; she stood just beside the pavilion, his wife-of-fire, hands wet, posture a mask of disbelief. She moved forward, slowly at first, then faster, relief taking new prominence. Shahar moved to meet her, warmth love desire closeness return flickering over his shoulders and hands.

The met, and there they paused, each taking a moment to simply experience the other’s presence. Naiya reached out to touch his face, following the lines Roland had carved into his skin, then down to examine the wound in his shoulder, then surveying the whole of his appearance, blood, ash and all. Then she raised her hand again, and he expected something similar. Then she pulled her hand back, and he suddenly had no idea where this was going.

Then she brought her hand forward and smacked him across the face.

And then she put the same hand on his chest and kissed him.

There was suddenly silence all around; Tuka stopped her struggling and Snow stopped her barking to stare. The idea of defending Shahar didn’t even cross their mind; if anything, there was a vague amazement in their eyes. Seeing Naiya strike Shahar was something they had simply thought impossible. Until now.

Naiya finished stealing her kiss, and for his own part, Shahar held a similar feeling as his dog: amazement. Well, amazement, plus suddenly not being able to feel half of his face; he blinked at his wife, touched the place she had struck wonderingly, thought briefly about the concept of ‘mixed messages,’ then promptly discarded the concept altogether.

Shahar took her by the waist, swooped down and kissed her right back.

Passionate, fiery, relieved, unrestrained; his kiss was three days of missing her, worded in action rather than speech or sign, and when his kiss was done he didn’t move to pull away. He saw no reason to. He separated just enough to look at her, to breathe and to speak, but his arms and body remained as they were, while his face lingered mere inches from hers.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I meant to return yesterday.” Contriteness mingled with amusement and love. “Something came up.”
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Last edited by Colt on June 1st, 2016, 5:32 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Home With New Eyes (Naiya)

Postby Naiya on December 23rd, 2015, 10:20 pm

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Her hand stung, but it did not stop her from sharing days of worry, fear, and loneliness with the partner of her heart. Desire, worry, concern, relief, all battled to be the driving force of her kiss, all must have come through in some form or another, but overwhelmingly she gave him love. She would always love him, even when he disappeared for days at a time and left her to worry, to imagine all the possible disasters that might have befallen him.

She loved him, and he was safe. That was the most important now. She pulled away from him, the tingling of her hand reminding her that she had struck him, and that he would likely have something to say about that now. For his part, Shahar seemed completely thrown by the gesture, wonder a mask across his face as he touched his cheek.

Then he struck in turn, entirely different than the response she expected, she had a moment of surprise before his lips met hers again. His kiss was wild, passion, not an answer to hers, but his own missing her, reigned in for days, and given to her through the touch of his lips to her own.

“I’m sorry,” he said, seeming to take her admonishment in stride. “I meant to return yesterday.” He was contrite, amused and offered her love. “Something came up.”

His arms still wrapped around her, pulling her close and holding her against him. She wrapped her arms around his neck, her heart settling back into place, no longer fearful, tension melted away from her shoulders. Gladness, joy, was her response to him, apology, great worry, new relief flickered in response to his gentle amusement. "Something came up?" She chuckled, more breath than sound, injury, long absence, fire she feathered her fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck, detangling the strands with light touches and gentle plucking. He smelt like blood and fire, the scents of terror, of a wildfire roaring through the grass. She leaned closer to him, touching her lips to his chin.

"Come," Inside, warm, help, "I'll start a fire, we can clean you up and look at your injuries while you tell me what happened while you were gone." She spoke the words, intention to follow through shaping her, but it was marred by a reluctance to part from her hunter. She kissed his chin again, then shifted so that she could press another, less urgent, kiss to his lips.

"I missed you." The words were little more than a whisper feathered across his lips. "I am so glad you're home, safe." She lingered with him a few chimes more, until the reluctance to part shifted into a desire to help him. A change that he responded to quickly enough.

Wood was piled in the inner hearth, so Naiya waved Shahar inside bringing fire and the heated cookpot in with her. She touched the bringing wood to the pile, holding until the spot caught before moving her burning branch to a new spot. She lit the fire in three places before tossing the burning branch onto the pile. Her pot of hot water placed beside the growing flame.

She paused a moment in the door, she was on her way to fetch soap and cloth, so that she could tend to Shahar, but it struck her that someone else might need looking after.

"Are Snow and Akaidras alright? Do they need tending to?" Inquiry, offer to take care of.
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Home With New Eyes (Naiya)

Postby Colt on December 25th, 2015, 12:16 am

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Two surprises in as many seconds, and both of them needed a moment to adjust. Naiya recovered quickly, lacing her arms around him in return and settling against his body. Having not forgotten being slapped, Shahar had a sudden urge to turn his head and nip at her ear, just to make them even––an urge that he reigned in at the last second enough to turn the intended cheekiness into a nuzzle instead. She tapped signs of love against his skin, and his desire for vengeance slipped through his fingers.

Gladness, she said. Joy, apology, great worry, new relief. "Something came up?" Injury, long absence, fire.

I know, he replied. Small injury, non-danger, mostly uncomfortable, safe now, home, happy, tired.

She planted another kiss on his chin. "Come," Inside, warm, help, "I'll start a fire, we can clean you up and look at your injuries while you tell me what happened while you were gone."

What happened while he was gone. That would not exactly be the easiest of tales to tell. His thoughts immediately went to his arm, still covered by the cloth of his tunic and then of his cloak. The sleeve was pulled to the wrist, entirely concealing what now lay there, but it couldn’t stay concealed forever. Shahar had always preferred anonymity over renown; even in his home, he liked it when his deeds were only acknowledged in passing. He didn’t want fame, nor any special attention to separate him from anyone else. But his arm… to those who had never seen its ilk, it would be a magnet for such attention. Deep down, he knew well enough that he couldn’t keep it concealed forever, at least not from Naiya.

But he still couldn’t help a little apprehension.

Another kiss to the chin. “I missed you,” Naiya admitted. "I am so glad you're home, safe."

He rested his forehead against hers. I love you, he said in the stretching moments before the rest of the world returned to attention.

Naiya was reluctant to pull away, but pull away she eventually did. Tuka took the opportunity to quickly weave her way through Shahar’s legs, purring and rubbing her chin on one shin after the other before he stepped over and away from the tripping hazard.

His fire-wife waved him forward, into the depths of the Dawnwhisper pavilion. Not the camp, not a circle of tents, but into their pavilion; a physical tent, large enough for all of them, a home that was finally their own. Stepping over the threshold sent a wave of childlike giddiness through his gut, a carnal response to the reality of a dream he had long thought beyond his reach. The inside was still a bit bare in terms of furnishing, but that was something they could fix. They had food, they had money and they had time; a little work and it would be close and comfortable.

Having a pavilion was drawing out an inner nesting habit he’d never known he had.

Snow slipped in after them, although it took a few moments for her to absorb it all. It wasn’t her first time in the tent, but tonight would be her first time sleeping in it, and the larger space was something she was quite impressed with. No more piling together or wrestling for a sleeping spot; there was enough room for everyone, and then some. After a quick pace around the entirety of the tent, she decided to claim the spot next to the entrance as her own––out of the way of those coming and going but still close enough to be the first one to notice any visitors. Especially unwanted visitors. She sprawled out with a great sigh, as tired as her partner after the stressful series of days they had experienced.

In the meantime, Naiya set about to bringing in water and lighting a fire, two tasks she resiliently carried out by herself. Not quite sure how what he could do to help her, or whether she even wanted help, the hunter simply sat and watched her, the ghost of a smile on his face.

Then she paused, looking back at him. "Are Snow and Akaidras alright? Do they need tending to?" Inquiry, offer to take care of.

He nodded. Will survive. “There wasn’t any poison.” Lack of. His sign was offhand, although he didn’t think about it consciously; he spoke and gestured as if they were supposed to be poisoned, and that the lack of it was therefore distinct.

Later today, “I will go to the River Flower to see that they are not infected.” However, minor request. “Akaidras; would you mind moving the yvas?” Favor, where it belongs. And then the smoke crept up on him again, and he had to pause in favor of coughing. Smoke wasn't like most things that got stuck in throats; usually, objects could be expelled if one was simply smart about how they coughed, but smoke was not an object. It stuck to the walls and skin, tugging and scratching, and it got worse the more he talked.

Shahar hadn’t actually put the yvas onto his horse––the strap would have aggravated already irritated skin on the horse’s side––and had instead simply carried it while riding bareback, and deposited it on the ground upon dismounting. It was still laying outside, where he had greeted an overexcited Tuka.

The thought of the yvas made Shahar remember those things that were inside it, and that gave him an idea. Also, he said, a mischievous glimmer in his eye. “Look in the left yvas-bag. Wrapped up in brown cloth.” A gift for you.

giftA custom dagger with a ruby stone set in the hilt (Value: 70gm). It’s ornate, but still quite functional. It doesn’t have a sheath yet.
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Last edited by Colt on June 1st, 2016, 5:34 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Home With New Eyes (Naiya)

Postby Naiya on December 26th, 2015, 6:00 pm

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Naiya lingered in the door a moment, heart fluttering with concern once more. Not any poison. There should have been, but there was not, that was good. She chased the worry out of her posture as best she could.

Yvas, will get. She responded to the favor in his request with a smile and a shaping of her posture that encompassed no trouble and shared responsibility. It was family work to do such things.

His coughing concerned her, perhaps she had not set the smoke flaps correctly. She glanced around the pavilion, their pavilion, looking for the missing pieces. Perhaps it was just that the upper ventilation was tied too tightly. Shahar's hands danced through the air again, catching her eye.

A gift for you he told her, a mischievous glint in his eye. Gratitude overtook her body, a smile brightening her face, softening the lines of worry and weather that their life gave them. She nodded, ducking out of the pavilion, a determined speed to her steps.

First, she adjusted the upper lines of the pavilion, pulling at the rope that allowed airflow to the inside, but prevented the rain. It only took a small adjustment, and she could see the immediate difference in the amount of escaping smoke. She tightened the line, making sure that it would not slip, and ground the spike back into the earth with the heel of her boot.

Next the yvas, which laid in a heap only just inside the camp, where she had first seen Shahar and his strider appear. Akaidras had wandered further in, mingling with the other horses. Naiya hefted the yvas, made heavier by the bags, and carried it to join the others. She pulled the yvas bags off, leaving the one that would fall on the left to hang while she stowed the others. Then she pulled the left bag free, stowing the yvas itself, and peered into the bag.

She found the brown cloth quickly enough, pulling it out of the bag, and adding the final piece to the yvas storage. The cloth fell back from the top, revealing a hilt, something she was quite familiar with. Set in the base was a ruby, the rest of the dagger finely crafted and quite beautiful. It was a thoughtful gift, a weapon and tool that she would use often, a constant reminder of Shahar to carry with her.

Reminded of the gifts she had crafted for Shahar to give him on the day of the winter festival, she added another step to her excursion before she could rejoin her husband. She tucked the cloth wrapped blade into her boot, careful to be sure it would hold in place at least for a while. Then she turned back to their supplies, pulling soap and cloth scraps as well as a second bowl.

She tucked the soap into the bowl, digging for a comb and brush as well. She dropped them both into the bowl as well, placing it beside her while she did more digging. Tucked deeper away, hidden among the spare cloth and sewing supplies was a dappled tan leather, sewn tightly closed with a layer ixam scales in between the cloth. Armor, crafted for Shahar after she had made something similar for the Blackwater watchman. Beside that, a leather armband crafted from items of his family.

She folded the armor, placing the band on top of the leather and adding her bowl of supplies on top. She glanced around. The bowl from earlier lay on the ground, she could use that for the soiled cloth. She scooped it up on her way back, stepping inside the pavilion with gratitude shaping her form.

She placed the pile of things on the ground beside Shahar, abandoning her determination for a moment to thank him. She knelt beside him, brown cloth she teasingly inquired, pulling the brown wrapped dagger free. She let the cloth fall open, gentle amazement melding with deep appreciation.

"It's beautiful, Shahar, thank you."
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Home With New Eyes (Naiya)

Postby Colt on December 27th, 2015, 12:51 am

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Naiya departed, leaving Shahar and Snow alone in the tent. Swallowing down a rough patch of bile, Shahar tugged at the clasp of his cloak with tired fingers and let the garment fall from his shoulders. It was dirty and ragged, but he could take care of that later; for now, he rolled it up and tossed it over to an unoccupied corner of the pavilion. He would need to ask Seirei where she was sleeping the next time he saw her; there were plenty of spacing specifics to be sorted out still. She would need a larger sleeping area, to account for both herself and the twins, and they had the space now to begin dabbling in more material comforts. Perhaps some sturdy rugs to soften the floor, and then a couple softer rugs to outline and contain their sleeping areas. The center would be for food and gathering, of course, so there was no need for the plush, but perhaps seating pillows would not go awry if that was where they took their meals. Nothing luxurious or fancy, but comfortable enough to sit on for the time it took to eat.

Shahar took a deep breath, then regretted it when the exhale erupted into more coughing. This one was smaller, though, and he was able to clear his throat to end it soon enough.

The grasslands had spoken of foul weather on his return trip. Rain, the plants and animals had said, far more attuned to the weather than he. With his cough, his injuries and with rain on the way, the next few days would likely be ill suited for what he needed to do next. The days of rain could be spent recovering, and also in Endrykas in search of things to fill up their pavilion’s interior. It would be time otherwise wasted, time spent waiting for the rain to end so that he could go out once more and return to what he needed to be doing.

Prey had been removed, but predator survived, and the predator needed to be removed if the prey was to flourish again. He needed to hunt the spearbacks of the Stardown, at least enough to give the asps a fighting chance once spring came and brought them out of hibernation. Hibernation, coincidentally, that the spearbacks were supposed to be trapped in, too. If Shahar didn’t kill them, it was entirely possible that they would die of starvation. He didn’t know how to handle that puzzle; perhaps he could ask the spearbacks themselves when the rain stopped.

He moved closer to the fire, luxuriating in the warmth for a few moments before Naiya returned. His fire-wife had the dagger wrapped in cloth, as well as several other items; a bowl, soap, a parcel of… leather? Metal? He wasn’t quite sure.

Greeting, love, come back, many thoughts. Despite the relative lack of things to do, his mind was racing; the plains, the pavilion, the family––so many things were changing, and now he was possessed of a new energy unlike he had ever been subject to before. He couldn’t be passive anymore; he had to move, to do things. He couldn’t stand nothingness now; he needed to be productive. Doing nothing at all was something he wasn’t interested in anymore, even when work was done or put on pause. He didn’t have to be physically carrying things out to be doing things; indeed, when there was nothing for his hands, his mind became even more active. There were things to be done, there were plans to be made, tasks to list and objects to gather. Already he was mapping out what he would be doing tomorrow, and the day after, and the day after that if the rain continued.

But Naiya grounded him, drawing him out of his own head with her presence; Shahar lolled onto his side playfully as Naiya knelt beside him, pushing his head against her hip in a manner quite similar to one of their hunting cats. The warmth of the fire was seeping into him, relaxing the tension of the past days, and he sighed contentedly and shifted to lay his chin on Naiya’s leg so that he could watch her unwrap her present.

Her gratitude made him grin. Please, “Don’t stab me with it,” he joked. And upon a whim, he propped himself up on an elbow and made for her side again, nipping at the flesh of her hip through the material of her dress. Vengeance, he told her. “For slapping me.”

There were a number of factors fueling his behavior; he was relieved to be home, yes, but there was also an element of confidence that had not been there before. Gone were the shy, gentle smiles and distant observation; now there was rakishness, relaxed ease that wasn’t passive, but interactive; he wanted to be close, and he also wanted to do things, anything, so long as it was with Naiya. He wanted to make up for the time they had spent apart.

Pause, I’m being silly, he realized. Even through his thoughts he could recognize the oddness of his behavior, but had no desire to change it. Apologies. I’m tired. He gestured at the parcel she carried. Inquiry, that, what is?
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Home With New Eyes (Naiya)

Postby Naiya on December 28th, 2015, 9:02 pm

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Shahar was playful, draping himself across the floor like a giant cat. A grin spread across her lips, his playfulness contagious. He butted her hip, rested his chin on her lap. He returned her grin, beseeching her not to stab him with her new weapon.

She was comforted by his attitude, his closeness mirroring her own desire to be near. She tangled her fingers in his hair, returning his playful touch. He propped himself higher, moving to bump her hip once more. She began to laugh, caught off guard when his teeth caught the skin of her hip through her clothing. She was surprised, he didn't hurt her, not really, but there was a real shock in the action.

Vengeance, he informed her, "For slapping me."

She was properly chastened, she had been so caught in her confusing emotions. He didn't seem angry, though, and that kept apology from her posture. He was different, playful, confident. She waved away his explanation and his apology, happy, enjoy playful, love she responded simply, seeking a way to join him. He offered her the shift she needed, asking about the rest of the things she had brought.

Surprise for you, a gift, she put the cloth wrapped dagger away, pulling the leather closer, gently upset with him. "I meant to give it to you sooner," winter festival, missed opportunity. Her posture changed, teasing, playful, "Maybe I should wait until next winter to give it to you," at the festival.

Despite her words she quickly offered the items for examination. She waited a moment, letting him examine the two gifts, taking in his reaction before tossing the cloth scraps into the boiling water to clean them. Shahar's wounds still needed cleaning, and so did the rest of him.

"I made armor for a man of the Watch, and I thought that perhaps you might wear some too. The inside is lined with ixam scales, and the outside is antelope leather." She had crafted it with great care, hoping to find the bottom fell to the middle of his thigh, and the sleeves fell halfway down his arm. "It should blend into the grass fairly well."

The second gift was more sentimental, it was the source of the new wrap in her hair. A tooled leather band, sized to fit on his arm as a decorative cuff. The leather was simple, made dark by the treatment that had hardened it. Around the band was a braid of copper hair, her own, sealed with clear paint to keep it in one piece over time. Copper chain dangled artfully from the cuff, a length of braided cord woven through the links. The thick bands of metal suspended a carved boar tusk, the braided cord sprouting the distinctly familiar feathers of Khida's bird form.

"The other is a gift from Khida, Seirei, and me, to remind you of your family while you are out in the sea." She moved closer to him, bringing the bowl of supplies with her. She tucked herself in closer beside him, offer, brush hair, clean. She rested her cheek against his shoulder as he examined her gifts, her hands plucking at the soiled clothing he wore.
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Home With New Eyes (Naiya)

Postby Colt on December 28th, 2015, 11:35 pm

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She laced his fingers through his hair, sending shivers of warmth down his neck and into his shoulders. Naiya didn’t seem at all put off by his silliness; indeed, she appeared to be enjoying it as much as he was. She was appropriately chastised when he informed her of his vengeance, but both of them were too lighthearted for her to dip into an actual apology. It wasn’t needed.

Upon his inquiry, though, her posture changed. Surprise for you, gift. There was also a degree of upset as she turned her attention from the dagger to the parcel, although it wasn’t cutting. Contrite, Shahar pulled himself back up into a sitting position so he could wrap his arms around her waist.

"I meant to give it to you sooner," winter festival, missed opportunity. Then the curve of her shoulders changed again, taking on a more teasing and playful overtone. "Maybe I should wait until next winter to give it to you," at the festival.

Shahar let out a sound of dismay, frowning halfheartedly with enough underlying amusement to offset any real displeasure. “But Naiya,” he whined plaintively, although it was more of an unattractive croak than the playful whisper he had been aiming for.

Still, she passed her gift to him. He took what appeared to be a tunic, although it was heavier in his hands and segmented beneath the cloth. He felt the material curiously; it was obviously a garment, but of an unknown quality.

"I made armor for a man of the Watch,” Naiya explained, “and I thought that perhaps you might wear some too. The inside is lined with ixam scales, and the outside is antelope leather. It should blend in with the grass fairly well.”

It was armor. Shahar’s body was soon subject to wonder as he realized what exactly he was feeling against his fingers, segmented and overlapping on the inside of the garment. He had little time to reflect on the full gravity, however, as Naiya had a second gift as well. This one was smaller, and it also took a moment for Shahar to realize what exactly it was. A leather band, something to be fastened securely to the body, he presumed. But it was more than that; there was paint and hair and feathers. This, too, Naiya explained.

"The other is a gift from Khida, Seirei, and me, to remind you of your family while you are out in the sea."

It was more than that. It was them, or at least pieces of them. Naiya’s hair and Seirei’s, painted on to remain forever protected and timeless, and one of Khida’s feathers bound down tightly. It was a band, sized for his arm, to keep them with him even when he was away.

Shahar turned and hugged Naiya tightly, heat rising in his chest. Words and signs could not convey the depth of his gratitude. Although he knew in his heart that she wouldn’t hear it, his emotions moved through his skin.Thank you. I love you, Naiya.

She set about to preparing the cloth and water, no doubt getting ready to dive into the absolute mess Shahar had made of himself. She settled against him and signed an offer to brush his hair, something he was quite happy for her to do. Agreement. Then she began tugging at his clothes, as clotted and ratty as the rest of him. It was this that gave him pause.

What would she think of it? Would she think anything of it? Would it change anything between them? It was already making changes to him, to his awareness and to his thoughts, filling him with fire and determination to fix what was wrong in the world.

I… he hesitated. What did he say? “Yesterday, I was coming back. I heard about the Hazelweeds. The ones killed by the scout’s bane. They were like us. Outskirters. It could have been us, easily. So I went out again. I looked for them.” There was… out there… I saw… No. He couldn’t. There was no way to do this gracefully. Sighing in acceptance, Shahar leveled his eyes at Naiya and gave her a nervous, hopeful smile. I love you, he said. And then he took the hem of his shirt, wincing as he pulled at the wound in his shoulder, and removed it from his body. His torso, the blood, the stab wound, all were exposed, as was the Phylonura, given form in the grasslands rooted into the skin of his right arm.
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Last edited by Colt on January 16th, 2016, 4:21 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Home With New Eyes (Naiya)

Postby Naiya on January 14th, 2016, 6:25 pm

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He was agreeable, happy to let her work on his hair, but his clothing was dirty, and smelled of smoke and blood. Her unspoken request for him to remove it was met with hesitance, which struck her as strange.

She did not have to wonder long about his uncertainty, as he explained, or rather attempted to. His words left her with only more confusion.

I love you, too her response came with unshakable certainty a strong contrast to the confused set of her shoulders. Pain flashed across his features, some wound disturbed as he moved, and a reflection of pain settled into her posture, sadness for his discomfort.

His torso was laid bare, in a flash of her eyes she took in the wound in his shoulder, the blood that had dried on his skin, but what held her eyes was the tattoo on his arm, shining gold, flashing with colors... and movement?

Not a tattoo, then, something more startling. Careful stillness fell over her, leaving her form blank but for a startled disbelief. She held herself in that cautious stillness for only ticks, just long enough to let her initial fear fade. Acceptance was the next shape to fall across her shoulders, moving into place as she lifted her hands to comb through Shahar's hair once more.

God marked the lit of inquiry shaped her hands as she signed. She left her words gentle, still framed by surprise, not pushing him to provide any answer he wanted to keep to himself.

He was still Shahar despite his new proximity to the gods. He loved her, and she him, so nothing was changed. With her own reassurances in mind she ruturned herself to the important tasks that waited.

Shahar needed caring for, there was so much ash settled in his hair she couldn't see if he had wounds on his scalp. She lifted her comb, using it to gently pluck at the tangles of his hair. She was careful, starting with the tangles at the tips of his hair, loosening them with each pull of the comb. She didn't want to hurt him, so she moved slowly from the tips of his hair to the roots, working in sections, focused on the work so that her surprise, her delicate uncertainty wouldn't hurt him.

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