Closed [Priskill's Pond] Help wanted: Pitching a tent. (Karyk)

No need to know how to pitch a tent living in the wild - until you want one. A good excuse....

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While Sylira is by far the most civilized region of Mizahar, countless surprises and encounters await the traveler in its rural wilderness. Called the Wildlands, Syliran's wilderness is comprised of gradual rolling hills in the south that become deep wilderness in the north. Ruins abound throughout the wildlands, and only the well-marked roads are safe.

[Priskill's Pond] Help wanted: Pitching a tent. (Karyk)

Postby Salara Kel'Halavath on May 13th, 2017, 2:33 am

Spring 70, 517 AV
Evening

‘Fildred’s called for a three day halt!’ The young scout caught up with her, plainly exhausted but exuberant and no longer cautious about approaching the large feline – at least the one wearing the pack. ‘We’ve been ordered to set up guard lines and secure the area before our patrol is released till our next shift tomorrow afternoon. Three days! Whoop!” He joyfully lopes off to spread word down the line. The caravan had been pushing hard to make distance and in her mind a break was long overdue. She’d been pushing hard too by feel of the hot spots burning her pads where the coarse flesh was wearing thin; but so far, thankfully, no blood spotting her prints. When had she ever worked this hard? Running perimeters, investigating up and down game trails and the occasional cart paths. She was quicker than the other scouts and, being mostly silent and unseen, she was often a messenger. Other than trailing the slowest wagons trying to encourage the cart beasts to a quicker clip and keeping an eye on Oleander and his little donkey, this trip felt almost like a job. And one she would do well, ensuring her friends were safe and earning the Mizas that would be needed to keep the frugal lifestyle she would be living in the next town. Hopefully the next few days of rest and friends would help her feel like just another traveler.

She was pleased at how much lusher the trail had become; and when the caravan finally came to a rest near the large pond, her moral lifted considerably along with her steps. Fresh vibrant scents tickled along quivering whiskers as she trotted past unhitched wagons and carriages. Spotting her pack setting ready near Karyk’s rig, black lips pull back showing many teeth as she ‘smiles’ at his thoughtfulness. They hadn’t spoken and she’d seen him rarely over days, which left her feeling something missing. And it didn’t appear he was around now. The animals were loosely staked farther out grazing, standing hipshot or laying down. For once her presence in this form hardly agitated them in their weariness and only the nearest felt inclined to low, whinny, or bray warning. Many tents were pitched and by the smells wafting from campfires dinner was well underway. Her mouth watered tantalized with the scents of fresh fish and red meat cooking even with the lingering taste of a pretty songbird on her tongue. But her destination was without question. The Lake.

There were a few families and individuals lingering near but it seemed most had already enjoyed themselves and left. The banks and water several feet in were churned to mud but beyond the shallows the water was beautifully clear and welcoming. Pausing at the grass line, Salara grasps a cord on her pack between her teeth that would allow her to loosen its straps to wriggle from it. Without further hesitation she leaps into the air kicking up sheets of sand in her wake. Just at the edge of the water she bounds long and clears the shallows with a massive splash. Below the surface, waters sparkle and shine drawing a school of curious little minnows darting in expecting something of substance. Salara’s wet matted head soon breaks the surface several feet beyond her submersion. Gasping in pleasure to find the water just perfect for swimming and more so for a long reviving soak; but it was getting late and she had no time. Moving back into the shallows she begins diligently scrubbing every last inch of herself with sand. She knew there were plants that could be crushed to make a frothy type of soap but she would have to ask Oleander or Hortense to show them to her. It takes longer yet to untangle the knots and clean her hair, but finally she feels almost human again. Wading out of the water she shivers her body furiously to shed the water - not nearly as effective in this form - but oh well, and dresses in blouse and breeches. Returning barefoot to the carriage hoping to spy Karyk, she picks up her travel pack.

Maybe tonight she would be able to figure out how to set up the dratted tent. Not that she was complaining because she was comfortable sleeping under the stars in the wild. Her view upon waking was never the same twice. When she wasn’t napping in the carriage she’d slept in the crook of trees, curled into hollows logs, or under a stony cliff edge, and a time or two under the carriage. It only seemed right to do so as she would be most likely woken and able to sound alarm if anything approached her resting site from beyond the caravan. But since they had a few days it would surely be nice to sleep more civilized. Hauling her pack a little farther out than any others for said reason and that being around too many people made her uncomfortable she soon finds a level grassy spot high enough that rain or runoff wouldn’t soak her unexpectedly and shaded by a young maple strong enough not to drop a crushing branch.

Shaking the canvas loose and aligning the poles, stakes and rope she eyeballs them critically. If she puts this pole this way and that pole that way, her tongue soon protrudes in concentration, then she should be able to lift it like this…and it collapses beneath her. Trying again, this time she loops the rope to a pole end and wraps the other end around the tree trunk to hold the pole in place. Holding the canvas taught she scootches her way along it’s length to the other pole. While she holds it tight everything looks proper but as soon as her grip loosens it topples again. “Petch. No wonder I sleep in the woods.” Breathing hard and becoming increasingly frustrated she figures it’s high time to swallow her pride and go find help.

When she finally finds Karyk, feeling awkward in approaching him after so many days, the tips of her ears begin to heat; but with a solid swallow moistening her mouth she surprises herself with a more natural greeting than she expected, “Good travels, Karyk. We’ve made good time. If you aren’t busy would you mind if I borrowed you for a bit? I’m trying to figure out how to pitch a tent and I swear one pole must be shorter than the other because it just isn’t working for me.”
Last edited by Salara Kel'Halavath on June 22nd, 2017, 6:45 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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[Priskill's Pond] Help wanted: Pitching a tent. (Karyk)

Postby Karyk on May 14th, 2017, 3:01 am

Karyk grinning, picturing the woman getting frustrated with tent poles, throwing them down, "Not busy at all. I'll definitely show ya the ropes. Most tents are a two person job." He started walking the way she'd come from, keeping a nice, slow pace. "Yeah, I'm told we're halfway there. Ya scouts are doin' a great job, 'specially with this place. Though ya've been quite busy too."

There was a bit of concern in his voice, but he understood if she was pushing hard. Everyone was. It was why this was so necessary, this journey, this pace, these discomforts, these.. distances. This wasn't just about being safe, about survival. He was leading these people, his friends, family, strangers, everyone, to somewhere they could thrive. And he wanted to get them all there safely. But he knew that wouldn't be. They'd already lost a few, it happened. Karyk hated that it did. For three straight days and nights after they left that farmhouse, he didn't sleep. He drove hard, probably the fastest pace they'd made the whole trip. And at night he sat atop his carriage, watching. And for three days and nights, he heard that mother's screams. And every night since, he woke at least once or twice to them, in his head. It was why he never slept in the large tents as he'd done the first few nights. Now he slept alone in his personal tent.

He shook that off for now, his smile a bit halfhearted now, his eyes having lost a bit of their glow. "Let's get to that tent of yours." It was only then that he'd forgotten the only tool they'd need, "Wait here, I'll be right back." He turned away from her, jogging back over to his own carriage, rummaging through his packs and gear, until he'd found his shipbuilding tools. He grabbed a heavy wooden mallet, and turned back. Jogging back over, he saw a bird fly and land a bit past Salara, and cawed loudly. Karyk, only a few paces from having caught up to the huntress, stopped cold in his tracks, the blood draining from his face, his throat going dry, the mallet becoming slippery in his hands. It was a raven.

Just as she'd been Raven.

He moved forward with heavy steps, trying to not look at the bird, passing Salara coldly, holding up the mallet as representation of what he'd forgotten. The bird continued to caw as Karyk tried to move quicker and quicker from it. There was a panic in his gut, an anxiety building, but the shipwright was doing his best to keep it contained, keep it inside. He then realized he was leading the way without knowing where he was going. He turned back to Salara, eyes not able to meet hers, "Where's your tent?"
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[Priskill's Pond] Help wanted: Pitching a tent. (Karyk)

Postby Salara Kel'Halavath on May 15th, 2017, 5:19 pm

The warm familiarity of Karyk’s grin made her feel silly for feeling awkward. Offering her own pleased smile she falls easily into step beside him to banter, “But it doesn’t make sense for a single person tent to require two people to put it up!” A little bubble of pride swelled hearing he’d noticed her efforts among the multitude of scouts that watched over the caravan like constant shadows. As one of his friends she knew it was silly. Yes, of course he would keep special tabs on each one of them but still it made her feel as if all her hard work was even more valuable. There was no question that everyone needed to put forth their fullest effort as they all understood the consequences of failure, which made moments like this all the more precious. She doesn’t notice his dampened joy over morose thoughts as he excuses himself to retrieve, not surprisingly, a tool she didn’t have to do the job right.

Waiting in patient pleasure she looks up at his approach only to frown finding Karyk’s demeanor dramatically changed within a step as he nearly drops a large mallet. Not understanding the chill radiating from him she wondered if something had been briefly said at the carriage and tried not to think that it was something she had inadvertently done. “Karyk?” So bleak his visage as he strides past her now with the mallet defensively raised, she’s shocked to feel her predator’s instincts recognize within him the stressed emotions of prey escaping peril. “Karyk, you mustn’t...,” she warns in alarm as she fights herself from pursuing what hints at the blind panic of her prey. Concentrating to control her foot steps she follows after him hoping he doesn’t begin to move away faster, further triggering her feline instincts to attack.

A relieved breath escapes when he soon stops just as her reaching hand grasps his bicep tightly just below the pink scar from the wolf attacks. Turning him to face her, Salara searches his avoiding eyes while concern quickly overcomes her feral expression. Slowly sliding a hand down his arm, past the pulse pounding in his wrist, she laces her fingers through his, a move both supportive and restraining should he take off again. “You mustn’t run,” she directs softly with meaning entirely different than what he may take it for but the advice is multifaceted. She responds gently, “My tent is over here,” leading him a more eastward route to the young maple tree. In quiet support she will not question; instead allowing him choice to speak or not, what was on his mind.

"Here it is," her unoccupied hand moves out in a Viola motion. "I negotiated quite a bargain for it and my fishing kit at the mercantile." The canvas was buckled and folded in upon itself, one corner was propped loosly by a tent pole swaying back and forth in the breeze while another corner was tied to another pole held in place against the tree's trunk with tight coils of cordage wrapped around and round.
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[Priskill's Pond] Help wanted: Pitching a tent. (Karyk)

Postby Karyk on May 16th, 2017, 2:49 am

Karyk didn't flinch as he felt her fingers alight on his arm, relaxing a bit, as he faced her now. It reminded him of when she touched his wounded chest, back near Zeltiva during the wolf attack. Karyk found himself enjoying how physical and impulsive, or was it instinctual, Salara is. He felt his anxiety starting to decrease. When he felt her fingers entwine with his own, it was nearly gone. His heart kept racing, but not from the screams he couldn't shake. He gently squeezed her long fingers, nodding at her command to not run, not thinking further on the many meanings of such a thing.

Karyk felt her tug gently, guiding him to her camp, right next to a young maple. They didn't have many of these down toward Zeltiva, though he'd heard the more north you travel, the more you find. They weren't really ideal for the seafaring city, as a wood product. While pleasing on the eyes, maple was prone to rot, which just wasn't good for being in a city of water. He'd heard syrup came from within maple trees, like how blood runs through his own veins, and was quite sweet tasting. That would make them useful in his hometown. Sweet was not a thing many people from his neck of the woods tasted often.

Karyk couldn't help but smile as Salara introduced him to the mess that was her tent. But the best part was learning that she fished as well. Karyk was quickly learning that all the best people fished. Or maybe just everyone in Zeltiva fished. He suspected that Tollivant, mood killer extraordinaire had never fished a day in his life. He knew Oleander fished during their journey, he often saw Hortense cooking his catches. The boy was doing well, seemed to be thriving better than most on this trip. Karyk decided he'd have to go fishing with Salara one day as well. Hell, he wasn't even an especially good fisherman, maybe she could teach him a thing or too.

Remembering her earlier question, "Settin' up a tent is a bit like dancin'. Much easier and more fun wit' a partner, but ya can do it by yourself too. Just don't always look as nice, ya know?" Karyk briefly wondered if Salara danced, and how she'd look doing it. He assumed graceful yet powerful. Karyk on the other hand, assumed that he'd dance like a dolphin in a clay pot shop.

"But first we gotta set up the dance floor."

He gently led her by the hand over, before slipping his fingers free from hers, and crouching down next to the mess. He pulled the canvas off the poles, only to see it tied to a tree as well. He followed it over to the rope wrapped around the tree, which as the tension was released, fell away. Part of him chuckled, that she hadn't even used a knot, but he was a stickler for such things. Slack rope was a hazard in the yard. He coiled up the rope and set both down next to the tree. He then walked over, and gathered up all of the poles, and carried them back to where Salara was, setting them down on the ground.

"Time for ya to take that canvas, spread it out where ya want your entrance to face. Ya don't want it to face the wind, that's for sure."

He then grabbed a single, smaller stake and his hammer, walking over to where Salara ended up facing the entrance, and handing both tools to her. He then pointed down to the two loops that served as reinforcements for the door, "For now, stake those two loops down together, we gotta give this lady some curves before we put in her spine." Karyk then grabbed four of the larger stakes, walked around the exterior of the tent, dropping one at each corner loop, so that Salara could stake those two. Karyk was willing to bet a gold or two that at least one of the stakes wouldn't be sunk deep enough or at a good angle and would pull loose. He'd done that many a time when he first learned to set a tent.

To pass the time as she worked, while he watched, "Had much chance to use that fishin' kit of yours? Me and Oleander met while catching some Freckled Browncoats." He still didn't know those were actually just called brown trout, but he liked the name he'd come up with better. "Ain't had much of a chance to fish lately though, wit' our pace and not sleepin' great an' all."
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[Priskill's Pond] Help wanted: Pitching a tent. (Karyk)

Postby Salara Kel'Halavath on May 17th, 2017, 12:05 am

No one ever saw the diligence she put into selecting a resting spot each night. One had to find pleasure where one could; so taking time to experience each direction (against good advice she even faced windward west) she tugs the canvas into a chosen position facing east. “So that my vantage upon waking will be the beautiful face Syna chooses to show over the horizon.” And that was the easy part.

Karyk hands over the spike and hammer to her look of skepticism. Somewhat like her throwing dagger she tests the weight of the mallet and how it balanced in her hand then repeats his instruction, “stake the two loops down together,” and squats to align the loops one on top of the other inserting the small stake within the gap. Glancing up to see him watching she catches her breath and returns to her chore. Holding the loops and pin together in one hand she gently tap, tap, taps the hammer on the stake with little effect. With his attention occupied in distributing the rest of the spikes she considers the side of the hammer as a larger surface so gives the small spike a couple of whacks experimentally from the side; finding that while her fingers felt safer it was even less effective. Adjusting her grip and lifting the weighty hammer a little higher, she whacks the small target a good one just managing to not reflexively pull her hand away before it hits. No crushed fingers – yet. Encouraged she knocks the stake more deeply until it seems to hold.

“Is that what they are called? Freckled Browncoats? I’ve fished more recently than I ever have. As a slave I wasn’t permitted the time; but later I managed to learn a little when I wasn’t thieving in the streets. The law didn’t mind if one filled one’s belly with the occasional fishy morsel – it kept me out of trouble. In Zeltiva it was a nice change from stalking prey. I made my own gear then, but I really like my new kit. On a good day there isn’t anything better than relaxing beside the water just waiting for a bite whether it comes or not.”

She moves around to the larger stake at a corner and drops to her knees to hold the stake upright. Rap, rap, thunk. The hammerhead digs a nice little divot in the dirt. Without looking at him, but waiting for correction at any chime, hammer meets stake - Rap, thunk, rap. The stake begins to enter the ground at a tilt, inadvertently, and she just goes with it to get it done and finally finds a rhythm - whack, whack, whack. Wiping the sweat from her brow, she sets the hammer down feeling the stinging flesh of her palm already tender from miles of foot travel and thinking it much easier to climb into a tree.

Raising a narrow brow at his supervisory position, “Tell me again how this ‘is a bit like dancin.’ Didn’t you say it was more fun with a partner?” Unfolding herself to stand Salara moves around to the next canvas loop, picks up the stake and offers the hammer to him with a encouraging twist of her lips and a hopeful look in her eyes.

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[Priskill's Pond] Help wanted: Pitching a tent. (Karyk)

Postby Karyk on May 17th, 2017, 1:11 am

Karyk found himself watching her work, not realizing that a goofy grin had crept onto his face as he did. He watched as her wild blonde hair seemed to cascade over her lithe form, as her deft hands worked to put the stakes in the ground. He was snapped out of it as she spoke, suddenly hearing that she was a slave at one point. His eyes grew surprised at the information. Where did she come from that slavery existed? What sort of slave had she been? He was surprised to hear her talking about it so... aloofly. He'd never met a slave before, at least none that had admitted to having been one. If he'd been a slave, he doubt he could've shared that information as easily as she had. Was she that comfortable with him?

He tried to not dwell on it, "It's what I call 'em, I dunno if they've a proper name or not." Then smiling, "Yes, nothin' better. Plan to get some done before we head out again." And once more, he found himself distracted by watching her work. Seeing her lean arms bulge and stretch as she hammered, and that stupid grin on his face just wouldn't go away. Then he realized he'd been caught staring, with her cocked eyebrow looking at him, he laughed a bit, taking the hammer from hands, only now seeing just how red and raw they'd been. Surely that wasn't just from the hammering? It never occurred to him that the wear on her paws transferred to her hands and feet.

He knelt down next to a spike, "There's a rhythm to woodworkin', to everythin' when done right." He first tapped the spike twice, then hammered it heavily, tapped twice more, and a heavy swing, satisfied with how deep it was. He crouched over to the other, "Sometimes a partner may get distracted by the other," casting a sly smile over at her, "But that's half the fun, I'd say." Tap, tap, thunk. Tap, tap, thunk. Tap, tap, thunk. He then belted his mallet and moved over to the pile of gear, grabbing the longer ridge pole. "This here is the old gal's spine, called the ridge pole." Then he held up two more poles that had holes in the tops of them, "These'ns are just the tent poles. They stand 'er up." He slid the ridge pole through both of the tent poles and snaked them both under the canvas, then nodded at her to come over.

He lifted up the canvas and crouched in underneath it, moving over toward the back tent pole. One tent pole was pointing to the left of the tent, Karyk's to the right. "If doin' this by yourself, ya gotta alternate what we're 'bout to do. We gotta walk the poles together to raise the ridgepole into that ridged crease there," pointing at the center crease in the canvas. "Gotta make sure to go slow and easy, and together." He raised the tent pole to about waist height, which brought his end of the ridge pole up with it. It wasn't heavy, and the poles were smooth. He waited on her to match him, before he slowly took lead, taking a small step toward the center, as the vertical pole slow went skyward. He kept his eyes on the ridge pole to ensure it was lined up properly.

Once they were in place, he smiled over at her from the back of the tent, enjoying the brief shade the tent brought with it. He moved gingerly around the pole, knowing the guylines weren't yet tied in place, and toward Salara. He gently reached out, touching her waist, taking a half step closer into her space, looking her in the eyes, "And that's the dance." He moved to make his way past her, knowing the guylines still needed tied, and the side guys needed staked.
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[Priskill's Pond] Help wanted: Pitching a tent. (Karyk)

Postby Salara Kel'Halavath on May 18th, 2017, 3:24 am

The tent-staking effort certainly finished much more quickly with Karyk doing the heavy lifting. A silent hum deep in her chest accompanies each tap/thunk as Salara appreciates the rolling musculature of his back and broad shoulders with each lift and drop of the hammer. A wearer of many hats, was there anything he couldn’t do? “Distracted…fun, oh yes, I see. But you are doing a fine job regardless,” she smirks with twinkle in her eye. Next came the ridgepole and tent poles, which made much more sense being put together his way than anything she could have conceived trying. He was right. Pitching a tent could resemble a type of dance. As she mirrored lifting her pole to waist height, then almost gracefully through each consecutive move up, she knew that she’d prefer not to do this alone. There was no way she would have ever figured it out by herself – with or without a mallet.

As the walls and ceiling raise it finally occurred to her that this was the first time they’d been truly alone and ironically in her soon-to-be sleeping quarters. Watching him from across the canvased space she realized that up to this point they had carried a flirty friendship, but things could go differently now. Her mind flashed back to Dorrin’s comment of Karyk deserving a good woman. She knew she couldn’t be that woman. She was truthful in telling Dorrin that she was complicated – petching Kelvic – it had never really mattered as much as it did now. There wasn’t enough time. How fair would it be of her to take advantage of this moment, of him? Or, could this be like surviving the wolves together in sharing mutual security and comfort through harsh times? The tingles under her skin shout one choice yet the care she had for her friend shouted another. And yet, her pupils dilate in wide eyes and her breath catches as he dances, his way, to her across the space.

Her body stills at his nearness and then his first touch, the very first ever, releases her held breath in a wispy sigh. But what right did she have to receive this look he gave her, full of so many words? He would find ‘want’ and ‘need’ in her eyes but would he catch the glint of ‘uncertainty’ also within? Her head dips in a serious nod, “I don’t think I will ever look at tent pitching the same way again,” that certainty rang truth. Just as her ever irascible fingers reach up to pull his beard hair the canvas drops down around them like a lady’s skirt dipping through a bow as the structure tilts askew. The only anchor Salara had attempted having lost its tentative grip in Semele’s flesh. Together. Dark and close. Breathing each other’s air, then, a whispered “Oooopps,” as a hesitant burble of giggles rolls into husky laughter.

Breath upon his face, a ghost of pressure upon his lips, the thief steals a kiss in the dark and then the space is empty and the canvas rustles and lifts allowing her escape.
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[Priskill's Pond] Help wanted: Pitching a tent. (Karyk)

Postby Karyk on May 18th, 2017, 4:09 am

He felt her sigh as his hand alights on her waist, assuming it to be her relaxing in his close presence. And while he himself had a peace of mind not recently known, with her eyes being his only focus, his heart was pounding against his chest as if it were the very mallet he used to build ships. His chest tight, his ears drowned out with the blood pumping, his stomach aflutter, he moved just a bit closer, his hand holding her waist just a bit more.

He saw in her eyes what he felt. He could see she wanted him, and there was even a bit that needed him. A primal feeling that he himself also felt, not just in the tightening in his lower abs, but the need to be needed. To be chosen. It had been so long since he'd felt that. But there was a slight shake in her eyes too. Was that... fear? Was she scared of him? Or what this could become? It put a hint of doubt in the pit of his stomach, but he tried to ignore it, to enjoy this moment of closeness, uninterrupted by wolves, book huggers, or the responsibility of protecting and leading others. In this moment, in this tent, it was just him and her.

Karyk smiled a bit more broadly at her tent comment, and started to reply as her she let go of the tent pole. Karyk knew just what was about to happen the instant before it did, and normally he might've been able to catch the pole, right the tent. But he was a distracted dancer, lost in this beautiful woman's eyes. The tent poles fell opposite of one another, and the canvas fluttered down atop them, supported heavily by Karyk's minuscule height advantage. The shade the tent had provided became a close darkness, one Karyk found strangely akin to sharing a blanket with the woman.

His eyes hadn't yet adjusted to the darkness, a chuckle starting from his lips when a shock moved through his entire body. Her laughter had ceased for the briefest of moments, just long enough to get in extra close, and touch her lips to his. And before he even had time to press his lips back against her own, she was gone. A true thief. He was temporarily blinded as she left, Syna aiding the woman. Karyk let loose a very heavy sigh, one full of need and desire. She'd stolen a kiss from him. It was time to steal one back.

The man flung the canvas up and off of him, feeling Syna chuckle as she blinded him temporarily again. He shielded his eyes with his arm, looking around for any sign of the elusive woman, starting with the nearby young maple, and working his eyes around the area. He was smiling mischievously, for he knew he'd steal a kiss in return. It was only fair.
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[Priskill's Pond] Help wanted: Pitching a tent. (Karyk)

Postby Salara Kel'Halavath on May 19th, 2017, 3:12 am

As he emerges from cover to Syna’s bright smile, Salara moves behind the far side of the canvas to the backside of the akimbo tent – weak barrier that is it. The brush of their lips, stolen air from a kiss lingers as she rolls her lower lip back between her teeth. A moment of escape to catch her breath, to Do The Right Thing. Desires or no, she would not have him step blindly, unknowingly. Should Karyk turn to approach either way her voice will come from the opposite side in true confession, “Karyk Southwind, a name of gentle winds and warmth; but also true for you, Stormwind, for I always feel tossed in your presence. Know this. Dorrin provided one more parting message - one of successful conquest and happily ever after. He wished Us luck.”

The sound of her nails snag along the canvas in one direction then she steps quickly to the other side to peek from behind a high fold of the tent to spy upon him. “But I could not accept it…” and dunks again disappearing to the far side where she then will end that dance by walking to stand before him as if a prisoner committed to her fate.

Uncertain of what he will think, a tentative hand rises to the dryness of her throat and constricted breath; none-the-less her eyes meet his with lifted chin. “I am Kelvic.” Amber hued gaze crosses his feature watching for expression of any understanding of what this meant. “You may contain my remaining life span between both of your strong capable hands and no matter how tightly you grasp, you will watch me age by seasons, not decades.”

Not able see him more Salara turns her face to the horizon with hands clasped to keep from wringing before her. “Today, here and now we are near perfectly matched but all too soon you will be young and I will be old.” Her head shakes emphatically, “For your sake, I would not wish to deceive….”

So softly he may not even hear, part of her scarred heart cracks, “I would not wish you see me so…”
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Salara Kel'Halavath
What would She do?
 
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Joined roleplay: December 12th, 2016, 8:26 pm
Location: Sunberth
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[Priskill's Pond] Help wanted: Pitching a tent. (Karyk)

Postby Karyk on May 19th, 2017, 3:48 pm

Karyk turned around, following Salara's soft voice, finding her words to be a bit enigmatic, sounding nice at first. Of course Dorrin had said something, that man had the subtlety of a whale in a glass shop. But at least it was in a good light, albeit a bit heavy handed. Karyk's eyes rested on the woman, watching her move past the standing part of the tent, hearing her nails for a moment. Then she continued. She couldn't accept it? That wasn't so bad, even with the kiss she'd stolen, it made sense for neither of them to seek full commitment so early. They barely knew each other. Surely she couldn't already be thinking Cheva vows and children?

And then there she was, right in front of him, moving about like a wisp of smoke. Karyk's more playful side, the side to seek her out and steal back a kiss was gone. They'd moved into a more serious conversation. His dark brown eyes met her amber ones, hearing her not so secret confession of being a Kelvic. He'd watched her change, this was not news. But he didn't know anything about what followed. He didn't know about how Kelvics aged. He still didn't full get it with how she described it. His eyes shook with confusion and worry, because he at least knew one thing. She was saying he'd greatly outlive her. Why was she worrying about this?

Before hearing the rest, he moved in closer to her, his eyes scanning her face, knowing the words she spoke to be true. But her face turned from his, but he did not stop watching her, feeling that pit in his stomach grow, as he continued to listen. She didn't want to lie to him, to hide anything from him before continuing down this path. Which meant, at least a part of her, wanted to go down this road. A road that would definitely be painful, eventually, if not for a little while.

And he wanted it too.

He heard her little whisper, and he felt his heart begin to crack a bit. She was worried about him seeing her age. Reasonable, in his opinion, for her to think that of herself. But if there truly was something here, if what he'd been feeling were real, even as early and new as it were, he knew that wouldn't matter to him. It was like... a health problem, without a cure. It wasn't the perfect comparison, but it was something. But there was no pity in him toward Salara, no coldness about what this might mean.

His gut was telling him something, and he knew he needed to know more. To know more before he could say anything, to make a decision. One hand slipped onto her hip, the other reached up, gently resting against the side of her cheek that faced away from him, and he turned her toward him, to meet his eyes. His hand on her hip pulled her close, pressing her lithe body against his strong one, and he leaned forward. He pressed his lips to hers firmly, the hand on her cheek moving more below her ear. His lips kneaded hers hungrily, with a fervor, a passion, a desperation, as he felt his heart beating like a Myrian's drum. This was not a kiss stolen.

This was a kiss given, this was him, giving this a chance, with every part of himself. To putting himself out there, just as she had to him. When he pulled his lips away, he nuzzled his head against hers, and his hand on her hip moved higher, grabbing her hand gently. He pressed her palm against his chest, where those wolf scars were, where she'd first touched him. He wanted her to feel his thumping heart, to feel what he felt for her. He looked down at her, "I may not be a smart man. But I know what I feel. And I know this to be real. And that is all I need to know." He then grasped her hand with both of his, "I ain't goin' anywhere."
Follow your heart, and the plot will follow.
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Karyk
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Joined roleplay: April 4th, 2017, 4:34 pm
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