Guest Den
Lostholt's guest den is slightly larger than the dens of the normal denizens of the holt. There are four or five alcoves shaped into the sides of the den for sleeping in. Each has its own fair share of warm furs for the use of the various guests that find themselves here. There are also a few shaped stools to sit upon and various shelves and pegs shaped into the walls for the guests to keep their cloaks and other personal items upon. Contents:
Rosendo's been fed and cleaned and put back to sleep. Even the glider parents have been given more food as the reality that they will be wintering with the tribe sets in to all. Taking the meat and late season nuts, Savith moves to sit with Larias and share the meal. He's spoken little since the encounter with the troll, though not because he's bushing anyone away. Really, he's just trying to sort out this sudden change in Larias. There's still that hesitation, but she's still more open. It's odd.
Much more open. Though, Larias has been relatively silent as well, after speaking so abruptly and plainly in front of the troll, it surprised her, admitting, ours - as if they were some how a unit or actual pairing. As Savith approaches with food, she smiles hesitantly at him, her eyes light and untroubled. She murmurs softly, careful not to wake Rosendo, "Thank you.. I, can get the waterskin, if you like?" When you eat, you need to drink too, no?
Savith shakes his head, shifting the items to one hand to get the waterskin himself. A hesitant smile recieves a blink, then a very faint half grin before Savith sits down. "I got it," he says finally, setting the items down. Again, there's a small dagger, more visible this time, as if you say, we know you'll need it, so hang onto it for a while.
Larias leans forward, plucking the dagger from where its been nestled in the gifts of food. She tests the edge of the blade, lightly brushing her thumb, sharp, but not so sharp it slices at the feather soft touch. Her voie is still little more than a murmur, "I'm surprised they trust us with such." Humor in her tones, "Ater the trouble we've caused them... Either they've forgotten, or are more trusting than they should be."
Savith sets teh food down between them, taking a small handful of nut first. "Forgotten is most likely," he says softly, watching the blade. There's that faint sense of worry over as the blade presses against skin, but quickly supressed and pushed away as nothing happens. But it does get his full attention on Larias as he puts the first of hte nuts into his mouth to eat.
Once the blades edge has been tested, she gauges its weight, thoughtfully considering its use for a later purpose, softly speaking as she considers "A blessing and a curse their thought can be." Not great, but better than nothing. Larias then sets about cutting off two pieces of meat, one small one for herself, a larger piece for him. She holds the larger of the two pieces, "Here, eat. You've eaten only slightly better than I of late."
Savith reaches out to take the portion offered. Finishing that mouthful, he smirks lightly, nodding. Yup, it'd kinda be nice to forget sometimes, so completely, but he's got the timelessness of immortality, so much turns foggy and hazy, near forgotten, as time moves on. Instead, he quips, "Slightly." Heh.
Larias takes her time in eating the piece she's cut for herself, the bites small, little more than nibbles. But hey, she's eating right? Her eyes drop down to stare at the nuts and meat sitting before them, "Did the Chief here say anything about us being allowed to hunt... To help ease the burden of us being sheltered for the season here"
Small talk. Whee.
Small talk indeed. A shake of his head, as Savith eats, by no means dainty bites. He eats quickly, as always, and says between bites, "Not yet. Seems like there's more troublesome things on his mind." Though, they had better be nice ot his whip, or he's going to be upset.
Taking note of how quickly the portion is eaten, Larias selects another portion of meat and slices it off for Savith as seconds, just in case. She nods though to his words, "He is mated to the Healer, with the nightmares. Its almost surprising he remembered us at all." She glances up, a light smile beginning to form, "Then again, I suppose we made quite the impression..."
It's hard to keep a straight face around Larias recently. Though a frown begins to flicker at the mention of the nightmares, the seconds aren't taken yet. Savith always eats fast. Never know, when out and about, when a meal will be interrupted. He reaches for the waterskin, a grin threatening, then winning and turnning to a soft chuckle that Savith tries to bite back. "I'd say," he quips, and has to bring a hand to his mouth and clear his throat to settle himself again. Oh, but Larias, so open to him as he is to her, can feel that quiver, the checked laughter, and the unspoken thought. 'Their storyteller might even dream up a song about a glider fist fight after this.' OY!
Larias's own smile falters a moment, but then, it blossoms into an expression not seen on her save for dreams. Oh yes, she can hear the unspoken thought loud and clear, and the barely checked chuckle. Another nibble of meat is taken, feeling oddly at ease, almost relaxed, "I have to wonder who will be called the winner."
And Savith drops his head to hand, heel of hand to forehead. And that's a sound that Larias has only heard in dreams: honest laughter. Not the cold menacing laugh of a Chosen goading someone, but the almost restrained chortle of a glider. He coughs a bit, then takes the bait, "Probably Llune." He pauses, trying to compose, but, he can't, and... "She was the only one left standing," he finishes, voice cracking slightly as he can no longer hold back the laughs.
Larias's own amused chuckling adds to his own, to think, out of a Chosen, an ex chosen, and a seamstress, when the fight ended, it was indeed only Llune who was able to stand. She shakes her head from side to side, "High Ones help us if the story spreads... Reputations will be ruined forever."
Savith has to put a hand down to steady himself has he laughs, such an unrestrained sound. His mother would be proud. "If they aren't already," he says, tongue in cheek, trying to make light of the dire situation he's put them all in. Judgement Day will come, but until then, why not laugh at them? He's succeeded in taking them out of the mountain without rising an alarm. And so far, Winnowill hasn't come after. And he brings a hand to his stomach, laughing with open mouthed abandon for a moment, before he curls his head down to try to bite it off again.
What random thought runs through her mind that causes Larias's cheeks to suddenly flush, then burn in crimson embarrassment. Her chuckles do not stop however, turning into a light hesitant airy laughter. She can feel the dark thoughts, but the reckless abandon with which Savith laughs them away, right now at least, is intoxicating all on its own. With a cough forced cough, she tries to stop her laughter after a moment, yes, this does hurt, stomach and lungs not used to working together in merriment. "Ahh.. yes, well.. hmm."
Savith pants softly, little whimpers almost as he catches his breath. His eyes are alight with humor, mind already looking for the next joke. He sighs and pushes himself up right, only lean forward and laugh again, "I just hope they didn't see you trying to sit on Rosendo." Oh, but laughing hurts, and the corners of his eyes have a hint of moisture.
Larias coughs again, but this time, its as more laughter trickles into being, taking a deep breath. She tries in vain to still herself, to keep from speaking, "Yes.. well.. he is a hatchling no?"
Savith falls over, coughing and laughing as he does. Bad jokes, but they open the door as Savith forces out a broken retort, "I'm just waiting... for his first.. molt!" ANd a hand comes to his mouth again, the other on his stomach and he seems to double in pain, and now the laugh-tears are visible.
Savith laughs for a good while, drawing ragged breaths as he can. Finally, pushing himself back up to sitting, Savtih bring a hand up to wipes at the tears with the back of his hand, wrist to fingers. He sighs audibly, still chuckling softly now and again. "ah... oh my... head rush."
Larias settles down as he does, unable to think of anymore silly statements about birds and gliders. Her smile remains once the laughing ceases, her eyes clear and lit from within, "I.. don't think I have done that... for a long time." Oh, but then she blushes again, those words, weren't the same or very similar spoken in regards to another situation.
Savith smiles still as well, liftling his gaze to Larias. His brows come in sligthly at the sight. Just when did she get to be pretty, huh? Her blush just makes her a touch more endearing, and brings that smile again, and a deep chuckle from Savith. "One of many," he jabs lightly. Some habits die hard, but the tone is light.
Larias breathes deeply a few times, the color slow to fade from burning cheeks. She runs a hand through the hair at the side of her head, tucking a few strands back behind her ear. She peers at him through lowered lashes, "One of many?" Uncerati of his meaning, or perhaps simply looking for audible confirmation of what she can feel hinted at.
Lower lashes? Savith's own cheeks darken lately as his eyes take that slight feral tint as memories of that memory replay. For a long moment, he stares at Larias, the friendly smile fading as the memory pounds in his ears. It's not Recognition again, but the remembered sensations of it. He doesn't realize he's holding his breath as he peers at Larias.
Larias's mouth goes dry, and she swallows hard, licking her lips trying to re-wet her mouth. Pale eyes drop down, focusing instead on the meat and nuts still sitting on the floor. Her cheeks remain a burning crimson color, silently willing Llune, Rosendo, or Volek to somehow interrupt.
Leaning forward, much of his weight on a hand, Savith peers at Larias silently. The heady rush making his eyes hard yet bright with an inner fire. Ah, but Volek is with the birds, and Rosendo, happily full, is with his grandmother, out with Moonshade again, leaving the two... alone. How many heartbeats pound before he moves? But not away. Rather, forward. Reaching with the other hand that isn't supporting him, Savith grabs the side of Larias's head as he glides forward. The hand, while holding her, almost pulling her toward him, also lifts her head toward him. It's a fast move, a split second, and lips press against lips, as mind touches mind, soul flutters against soul.
Long distance to Larias: Savith's mind reaches for you as his body moves forward, bringing that touch of souls with it, and the ripple of that which is all of you, **Larias.**
With head bent down, staring at the floor, the initial movement is missed. But when his hand makes contact, urging her head to rise, Larias pulls back, eyes going wide with shock and worry. The panic wells within as his lips touch her own, only to have the brush of souls soothe the worry away. There is no resistance, no walls which spring up, no abrupt gliding to get out of reach, instead she is still, motionless, a fluttering sending emanating from her.
You sense in a locksend, Larias's caught in a cornucopia of contradicting emotions, desires, fears and worries. Her own send is heady with the sensations, some remembered, others as fresh as the touch of his lips to hers. She responds in kind, sending his name, a confused query swirling about it, ** Savith. Why? **
Savith lingers a moment, then breaks the contact, breath a bit ragged. Larias's fears ring clear, and he swallows. It's her question that makes him try to sort through his own emotions. He shakes his head and moves to pull away, leave Larias's side, sending.
You locksend to Larias, Savith's mind isn't sure. He wanted to? He was still weak when it happened, and... What's the nice way of saying he's horny? LOL. Instead, his mind draws a blank as too many replies come to mind, mirroring the contradicting emotions.
Larias leans just a bit forward as he begins to pull away, and then back again, her head turning to the right, away staring at just about anything but him. The crimson color of her cheeks expands; upwards to her forehead and the tips of her ears, also traveling down her neck. One hand reaches up, touching her lips with two fingers, checking to see if there still there - no. More like a recollection of a fresh experienced sensation, confusion regarding the feelings it invoked.
You sense in a locksend, Larias, though she moves away in one form, her mind seems to cling to yours despite your own confusion. Poor glider, she's not sure what this is all about, touching such as this, a kiss is supposed to bring terror and pain - right? But this one didn't.
Savith doesn't pull too far, not as Larias leans forward toward. He too seems to lean forward again, but poorly timed, and touch isn't regained as Larias leans back. He kneels there, before Larias, his breathing a bit strained as he whispers, "Sorry." A swallow, a lick of dry lips, and he seems to be hoping she gives him an excuse to retreat cause he surely doesn't want to.
You locksend to Larias, Savith is confused, isn't it? He doens't love you, does he? No! Of course not! He just can't get you out of his mind, that's all. The apology, whispered flatly, carries with it, the silent emotions in this touch of souls. He's not sorry for desiring to kiss you, he's sorry that he actually did. More, he's sorry for the sudden terror it caused, that he originally, was one of the cources of the terror.
Pale eyes blink, mind working slowly, he spoke, must respond. The hand touching her lips falls slowly back to rest in her lap. Her mouth opens to make a reply, but it falters, mouth to dry to even make a sound. Larias swallows nervously, licking her lips once more before turning back to look at him, though her eyes do not rise up to meet his own. A breathy voice offers response, "No apology is necessary."
You sense in a locksend, Larias's mind seems to be slowly coming back together, senses no longer reeling from the brush of lips, soul no longer shaking with fear and desire - no longer wondering which way to go. But underlying it all, there is, acceptance? Someone told her of such things once, and though disgusted then, she can not find herself repulsed now. Again, as when the dam broke, there is, not so far out of reach, a tender emotion she is slowly coming to terms with, love.
Savith waits a moment or two more, bringing his hand back up toward her face. His eyes narrow, but instead of hte depths turning cold and hard, they remain vulnerable. His hand doesn't make contact, instead, drifts above Larias's skin, just enough that a soft heat can be felt by both. He moves to pull away slowly, whispering, "I won't bug you again." OH, but how he wants to.
You locksend to Larias, Savith shys back, timid almost. Love is too rare a thing for him, having only felt it from Llune, and now Rosendo. He sets him running, frightened, almost. He doesn't put up walls, or dream up cold cold thoughts, he just does as he always did with Llune at first, shy away, feeling uncomfortable, lost, scared, annerved.
Larias's glances up, then down once again as she sees the narrowing of his eyes, granted, the depths are not cold, but seeing him so vulnerable is almost unnerving. Her head leans in towards the heat of his hand, finding it somehow magnetic and reassuring all at once. Her own hand finds its way from her lap, barely touching the hand so close to her cheek, but there. Her eyes look down again as her heart skips a few beats, softly responding, "You're not bugging me now."
You sense in a locksend, Larias's mental touch flares brighter, drawn by the mirror of herself she feels in you - uncomfortable, lost, unnerved and scared. Rare for him love may be, for her, it was completely foreign in her until Rosendo was born - save for half recalled dreamt images of a barely recalled past.
When Larias brings a hand to his own, Savith leans forward again, just slightly, daring now to actually touch Larias's cheek, cup her face lightly. When she looks down again, he bites his lip slightly, feeling his heart too race and flutter at her words. "I'm not," he asks softly?
You locksend to Larias, Savith cringes, put stops his retreat, turning to look back. There's a quiver, a need to feel more.
Larias gives her head a quick shakes, the sending open but soft as the breeze stirred by the beating of a butterflies wings, ** No, you're not. ** Her eyes close as she feels the light cupping caress of her cheek. A nervous swallow. The hand that hand been touching his, falls away, but not into her own lap, instead it alights gently upon his knee.
Savith draws in a breath, which he doesn't release for long long moments. Once again, the blood rushes in his ears, deafening him. Reaching back a bit, the hand on her cheek brushes over her delicate ears, into her hair. A flicker of thought, and settles fully on the ground before Larias, bringing the other hand up to her shoulder. That's when he releases his breath, feeling the nervousness doubled, once from himself, the other from Larias. **If I do,** he replies, send also whisper light, no more than a ripple of thought, unfinished, incomplete.
Larias completes the thought with her reply, ** I will let you know. ** She moves her head ever so slightly, feeling, no, exploring what it is to have his hand in her hair, at her ear. Oh yes, she felt it once befoer, but that, was different - coerced as it were by the unfulfilled demands of Recognition. Her breathing slows, forced into a steady rhythm, forcing herself to stay calm, or at least try.
Savith's own breathing is ragged and unsteady as he runs his hand gently through Larias's locks. He nods in reply. He doesn't have any more words, really, for what goes on in his mind. Yes, it was different. By then, the urge was a raging tidal wave, a force that had no care and no more patience. It was over and done quickly, leaving him exhausted and unconscience afterwards. The hand on her shoulder, as the fingers in her hair reaches a point where it can go no futher unless he leans closer, drops slowly, feeling the velvetly silk of Larias's dress.
Larias tenses as she feels his hand move from hair to actually touch her, even if it is through the dress. Her breathing catches a moment, but, quickly she resumes the slow breathing pattern once more, old tensions ebbing as new ones arise. Where he doesn't lean closer, she does, once more experimenting with her boundaries, and with his. Though she does not send, savith can feel her nervous anticipation, her worry, eagerness, and tucked deep down, her fear.
Savith takes in another breath at Larias leans forward. His boundaries. She's doing a good job of breaking through them. The hand trailing her arm reaches her wrist, but he doesn't wrap fingers about it, as he did then, to hold her still. Exhaling, only to breath shallowly again, Savith works his fingers free from her long hair as his eyes seek out hers, peering into her face. Feeling her fear, he whispers, "I can stop... if you want." The sound is breath only, broken.
Larias leaves her one hand resting on his knee, though she does lean back, pulling away physically, though clinging tightly to the mental closeness. She nods once, her eyes downcast, breath catching as she tries to speak. Finding she has no voice, her send flutters once more, ** Yes.. Stopping. Good. ** She pauses, an addendum fluttering shortly afterwards, ** For now. **
Damn it! He shouldn't have opened his big mouth. But a loyal Chosen he is, characterized by obeying, even when it hurts, and so he nods. Taking a deep breath, he floats back, putting more distance between them. But with the physical removal, in order to force himself to comply, a mental distance must form, and in those heartbeats that he fights to withdraw, he forces himself to grow cold, pulling over himself that shroud of emotionless thought of a Chosen. It shudders though, when she sends For now.
Larias frowns as she feels the coldness crawl over him, the distance forced and built up. Is this how it felt to him? No, she can still feel, just not as well, perhaps pressing she could feel more, but for now, she does not. Her eyes focus on the wall just behind Savith, unable to look at him for the moment. She murmurs softly, "I'm sorry."
Savith floats to the center of the den, standing his full heaight with eyes closed. Breathing steadies. Flush leaves him. And when he opens his eyes, they are flat, cold, the dull moss grey-green once more. He regards Larias a moment before he replies, his voice flat, "No apology is necessary." Using her own words against her is he?
And yes, that's what it feels like. Not pretty is it?
Larias's crimson coloring begins to fade, the tones slowly becoming more reminiscent of the light pink of a mild burn. At his words though, she frowns, her head hanging low, hoping hair shields her expression. Oh yes, she knows when last those words were spoken, how often has she virtually thrown his apologies back in his face? A moment longer and she rises as well, turning in the air as she does so, facing away from him. Yes, time to run again, time to sort this all out in her head, "I.. will leave you be."
"It is I that will be leaving," Savith retorts coldy, turning to move for the den openning. "You should stay warm and finish your meal." If she's running, then he is hidden already. Hiding behind duties and things to do.
Larias nearly snaps a retort, but this time, she can not bring herself to say. Instead, she speaks as calmly as she can bring herself to, "My meal is done. And this room is small. I need the air." Go ahead, try and stop her from leaving.
Savith nods, but continues to the den. "I see. Winddance and I are going hunting," he states firmly, though why would he mention it? Is it a subtle hint, a gentle offer to join him on a hunt, hidden behind formality?
Larias flicks a glance his way, hunting? She looks down at the full skirt of the garb Llune crafted for her, a gown crafted for an indoor life of ease, not the outdoor existence of solitude. The fabric sticky from when she slept in it, the small tears getting a little bigger from when she flew, full force into the tree. A smirk, followed by a grin to herself, "There is no better way to get air than on the back of a bird is there. Mind if I join you?" She's half expecting a resounding no, but, she needs to try anyway - that closeness, the touch, she hadn't wanted it to end, not really, but she needed it to.
Savith stops by the doorway and glances back. Ah, there's that smirk, but the eyes are still cold, though a hint of warmth tries to form. "Not with you wearing that," he replies. "I'm sure there's something you can borrow that's more fit for a hunt."
Larias lets out a sigh, shaking her head, "Its in this, or nothing Savith." She moves towards the doorway, careful to keep her eyes from him, "Have you seen another my height and build here? There's not a dress crafted by Llune made for hunting, you know that."
Savith stops the think. Got a point there. Hmm... And he nods, "Fine. Let's go." And he turns to go.
Larias turns, and with a thuoght, brings the blade to her hand. Then, swiftly she follows behind.
[travel spam to bird omitted]
Savith heads toward one of the guards. There's a brief conversation where he informs them that Cutter's allowed him permission to hunt, but he'll have to return the weapons when he gets back. Skywise nods, and plays fetch, bringing two spears and Savith's talonwhip. Though hidden, Larias can no doubt feel the ripple of relief as he reattaches the weapon to his hip. A glance at Larias and he leads the way, flying up and whistling shrilly for his bird. Winddance meets them above the treetops, and Savith trills to her. The hawk sees the spear, and coos happily. Hunt! Savith can only laugh, those cold walls starting to lower at seeing his bird. "Yes, hatchling, hunting we go."
Larias acts as little more than a shadow, following its source obediently. She neither sends nor speaks when Savith deals with the Lostholts, though, when the spear is given, she takes it with a sending of wordless thanks. Following Savith up into the sky, she waits for him to greet his bird, though a flicker of a smile appears as she feels the wall shift some. The smile falls, when she notes how cruelly she kept the wall, tight and firm for so long - she wasn't meaning to be cruel, merely wishing to shield herself from him.
Well it was cruel! Whimper! Sniff! Greeting done, he settles himself, and slows Winddance, fighting her excitement, **Come on.** His send has a hint of the upcoming hunt, the thrill of it. To Winddance he whistles, "Calmly, my darling bird. Let Larias join us tonight, alright?"
Larias settles in behind Savith, gripping the spear with one hand, her skirts riding high as she sits behind Savith. A moment of hesitation, and then she wraps her other arm about his waist, the touch gentle as if trying not to disturb, but knowing she'll need to hang on, ** I am ready. **
Savith glances down at Larias's hand for just a moment before he whistles his bird into flight, moving away from the forst of Lostholt. If he had a free hand, he might had brushed the back of her hand gently. Ah well. He leans slightly, surveying the area. **See anything you like?**
Larias sits a bit stiffly behind him on the bird, man, the air is cold on bare legs! yeesh - she will have to talk to Llune very soon abut different clothes. These dresses just will not serve outside the Mountain. At the question, she blinks, then smiles to herself, ** Actually I do. ** To bad she's looking at the back of his head, rather than down for something to slay.
Savith hmm softly, not catching the hint, **Your eyes are better than mine.** At least, until he spots a leg. Hmm. Focus. And back to hte hunt he goes.
Larias blushes, though, the color in her cheeks could be from the wind on them, really. Her eyes move down to look over the birds wings, ** Ah.. maybe. I... seem to have lost sight of it. ** A half truth, but for the moment, she isn't looking at him, soo...
Hit and miss, huh? Savith veers the bird, headed past the river toward some open plains. **Perhaps we'll have better luck without the tree cover,** he replies. Setting the spear against his thigh, he spares a glance back. **Did you want to try throwing from bird back this time, or shall we, like last, and leave Winddance to get her own meal? I do rather think we should take as much back as we can.**
** If that is what you think, then that is what we should do. I'll learn to throw from her back another time. ** Larias turns to business, must hunt, help feed a tribe, make heself useful - even if her legs are freezing cold.
Savith nods at Larias, and urges the bird onward, scanning the ground ahead. **Perhaps when Volek and I are working on it,** he comments, **Maybe you can help settle that younger bird. She'll make a fine mount for Volek.**
Larias hehs softly, her gazes roaming once more to rest on the back of Savith's head. The grip about hist waist tightens slightly, ** I never got much into the workings of the birds. I doubt I would do better than he at the creature settled. Most likely' I'd spoil and over feed. ** Much as she did with Winddance.
Beneath Larias's hand, a soft rumble of Savith's chuckle can be felt. He glances down again, at the hand, the tightened grip. **True enough. But I've seen he's quite the gift with them. A natuarl trainer.**
Winddance's wings carry them away, toward the river. There's a small herd, stopping by the river to drink and rest. **There,** Savith sends suddenly. And he tries to sort out how to make this work. **I can get her into a dive, grab at one with her talons, while we dismount and drop into two more. You should stay above the herd.**
Larias nods, the motion lost since she is behind him. But then her send, once more, all business, a tinge of exhilaration mounting, eager to make a kill, something she hasn't done in what feels like ages, ** Say the word and I will be ready... I -will- drop one this time. ** The spear is gripped, so erady, she works over lessons given her by another chosen, how best to drop a doe with a spear.
Savith nods and gives Winddance her signal whistle, pressing her feathers with magic and hand to get her going where she needs to go. Once the herd is spotted, she needs no more direction. **Do you know how to hang sideways from her harness? It makes the quick-drop easier?**
Larias sends quickly, knowing their time is limited, ** Share with me. It will take but once and I will know how. **
You locksend to Larias, Savith opens his mind to you, drawing forth the knowledge of a side-hold and a quick drop. But the close mental touch brings with it the closeness of before, for he doesn't build harsh walls, he hides behind duty. Duty like now.
Savith shares the knowledge, gripping his spear. When it's sent, he replies, **You'll have to go first.**
Larias closes her eyes briefly as she takes in the informatin, absorbing it, ready and willing to eagerly give it a try. At his word, she manuevers into place as his send illustrated, one hand tightly gripping the harness, the other holdig the spear.
You sense in a locksend, Larias is all business at this moment herself, for she pays attention only to that whish she asked for, no search, no pressure, no prodding, simply learning.
When Larias moves to his side, he takes a single moment to watch her before he shifts to the other side of hte harness. Whistling his ready to Winddance, the bird tucks her wings and dives toward the herd, not psooking them until the last moment. Savith waits until Winddance's talons drop and open, then, **NOW!** And he drops from the harness, freefalling.
With the dress flapping in the wind, Larias releases hold as soon as the word is given. Her arms are brought tight to her sides, the spear pressed against her side and leg, legs stiff and straight, eeek, and she thought it was cold before - nothing compared to freefalling in a dress, yikes! She eyes the herd, selecting one of the smaller creatures as her target.
Savith drops like a stone. The three hunters reach their marks at the same time. Winddance grabs a small yearling, and sweeps up, leaving the elves to the herd. Savith drops, not stopping his fall. He uses the spear into another, older doe, to do it for him. His momentum and weight drops the doe to the ground, and he to his feet, where he grabs his talonwhip, eyes darting after another whitetail.
Heeding Savith's word, Larias slows her descent with the skills she possesses, she makes a low arc, swooping low, before coming up. The motions start out smooth, but, how smoothe can one be when the hunt in a skirt that whips and flaps in the wind, snagging on the tip of the spear. She, however hardly seems to notice, and the fabric gives way under as she pulls bck her arm, the tearing making the motion jerky, throwing her aim off some.
Talonwhip in hand, Savith, heedless of Larias at the moment, brings arm up and throws at one last stragler as the herd gallops away. The claws clamp on the deer's rump, and Savith is forced to quickly wrap the line about his forearm and brace. But he's far too light, and before he can summon up his magics to hold him, he's yanked off his feet. "Aaah!"
Larias's own spear lands with a dull thud, embedded in the ground, green from the dress embedded into the ground, and whipping around the shaft. She scowls, oly a moment later to hear Savith's troubled cry. She spins in the air, blinking at the site of the chosen being drug in air behind his prey. She kicks it in high gear, an attempt to catch up, ** Savith?
Savith reaches up with his other hand to grap the rope of hte whip. Pulled off his feet, he uses his flight to keep himself from scraping along the ground, turning to look ahead. GAH! A bush. He twists, pulling another direction. **Down the whitetail,** Savith's mind replies, not wanting to loose the hunt. He can feel the talonwhip starting to work its way loose from the creature's motions.
Larias's eyes lock onto the creature, and with another burst of will, she truly kicks into high gear - Savith, known for flying fast and furious, perhaps could not even reach the speed with which she moves. The spear is in the ground, what does she have left to down the whitetail? Ah yes, she finds where the knife had been tucked, and continues gliding straight as a wellshot arrow, and just as fast. This kind of hunting she's done before, nothing but a knife of her own crafting, on the hot pursuit of this or that animal. She levels off at the same height as the creatures head, catching up.
Savith is awe-struck, eyes wide as he sees just how fast Larias can go. Wow. Distracted, he doesn't notice the fallen log the whitetail leaps over and slams into it. You know, thank the HIGH ONES for helmets. But the force of the blow finally rips the talonwhip free, and down he goes, tumbling in the dirt, to end in an unconscience heap just before another small bush. Without his weight, the whitetail finds a new burst of speed.
Having already pulled ahead of Savith, Larias does not see the accident occur, her burst of speed coinciding nicely with the deers. Knife gripped at the ready, she reaches in line with the creature, and, as she did when needed while alone, she grabs the creatures ear with one hand, yanking with a strength most her kin do not possess. Surprised, the deer, stumbles, and its at that moment, the knife comes down, embedded in the eye - there is a reason she knew how best to quickly dispatch the chosen's birds. Practise makes perfect. No sooner does the knife go in, than she lets go, less she get dragged down when the creature tumbles head over hooves into a lifeless heap. Swooping upwards at the avoidance, she sends, turning back in the air, wiping at the sweat on her brow, ** Savith? ** Her complexion pales, he's not behind the creature as she expected.
But thankful that only death silences sending. Savith replies, though his mind is hazy and not coherent. He's unconscience, and doesn't know exactly where. He just knows that his body does not want to respond, not even to wake. Above, Winddance circles, waiting obidently, the yearling balking in her talons, frightful.
Larias leaves the slain creature and knife behind, oo, but how she needs to rest now, such feats do not come without a cost. Her reply is gentle, worried, ** I am coming, please, keep your mind open to mine. ** She picks the way back, eyes scanning the trail of the creature, following that sending as best she can, needing to find him more than the food will be needed in LostHolt.
How can Savith do anything but keep his mind open? He's not all here right now, and with souls so close... His mind acknowledges Larias's request, still fighting to get himself awake again. Minutes pass. It's hard to see a Chosen, in black and blue leather as he is, in the dark of night, but as his mind fights to pull him awake, he groans softly.
drawn to his mind like a moth to flame, Larias homes in well and truly as soon as the groan comes round. She lands near the fallen form, her eyes lit with worry. Kneeling beside the fallen form, she begins checking for anything broken , noting he's out cold. Had to have hit his head, not good, not good at all.
Savith isn't broken, and the helmet saved him. If it weren't for that, his head would probably be split open like a melon. And it's a good thing he did hit head first, for he was unconscience before he hit the ground. Relaxed as his body was, the worst of his wounds are some scraps, bruises, torn uniform (again!), and some over extended muscle. The helmet is dented beyond recognition, pressed against his head in an awkward angle. As Larias touches his temple, he groans again, eyes fluttering, trying to open.
Larias swallows nervously, ok, nothing's broken, thats a good thing. Eyeing the helmet, and the eyes trying to open, she gingerly, oh so gingerly, moves to lift the thing off his head, "You need to wake up Savith..." She swallows hard, adding urgency into a wordless sending. Bah - please don't have a head wound like Shadows.
Savith forces himself to wake, a moan escaping him as a hand tries to lift it to his head. The helmet stopped much, but hte force of hte blow, and the sudden dent of hte metal, has lift a nice bump, and cut the skin, for he bleeds nicely. He blinks a few times, trying to sort out what happened. "....mmmmm, I'm awake."
Larias carelessly throws the helmet who knows where as she sees the bleeding bump on his head. How so very like her - Larias finds the tear in the dress from the pike, and rips off another long section, urgency giving her strength to litterally tear the fabric sturdy fabric - that and it really has been abused. She uses the cloth to tenderly dab at the blood, trying to see how bad it really is. "Good, you need to stay that way, til I know for certain you're ok."
Savith starts to nod, but finds it makes the world spin, and so stops, sending instead. **I will,** he states, the words fuzzy. He touches the bump, flinching slightly, then opens his eyes to look at his finger. Blood. **I'm bleeding,** the thought drifts from him, a touch of dull shock with it.
Larias switches to sending as that is what he does, ** Ye syes I know you are. ** She continues wiping up what she can, then, balling up the rest of the material and using it to lightly press, trying to keep the bleeding to a minimal - damn, and here she is without sewing kit. ** Keep still, but talking, or sending... ** she has to get this under control after all. Her sends, she tris to stripof worry, but she can't help it, new found feelings only serving to make this doubly distressing.
Savith turns his head at hte pressure, a groan again finding its way from his throat. The world slowly coming into focus. **The whitetail?**
Larias winces as he groans, "I know it hurts.. I know." she murmurs. But, the question, shaking her head, ever the provider, ** Is down. Though.. in a much less skilled method than I had hoped. **
Savith sighs. Good. Meat secured. He reaches up to pick up the pressure on the head wrap. **How many,** he asks. Yes, ever the provider.
At the motion, Larias moves the cloth back, leaning to inspect the wound, if its stopped bleeding, that a good thing. She brushes his hand away, "You sit still I said. Let me take care of this. And, not that it matters right now.. three in total I think. One by Winddance, so that leaves us with two."
Savith sets his hand down, turning his head to look at Larias. ** I can move,** he stately, a touch harsh, but the bark lacks a bite. **Three? That's good. Must get it back.** See?
Larias removes the balled up bit of skirt from Savith's head. She sighs, its still bleeding, not good - but it could be worse. She sighs, dabbing at the cut ever so gently, ** I have no doubt you can move, its whether or not you should right now that concerns me. Let the wound stop bleeding, then we will worry about the kills and getting you back to the Holt. **
Savith presses his lips together firmly, not realizing she can feel his wound just as well as he can. **Then let me hold the bandage, and we can get started.** Really! You'd think he'd almost died.
Larias continues dabbing at the wound. A soft hrmph is given, ** As I said, you're not going anywhere until this stps bleeding. So, I suggest you just sit there and deal with it. ** Her tone is clipped, terse, but still full of worry and concern, ** If I have to, I'll sit on you myself to make you stay still. **
Savith grumps, but sits still. Er.. lays still. Headwounds do tend to bleed alot, but with Larias putting pressure, it stops sooner than it would, even if Savith had kep the pressure and moved about. He closes his eyes after a moment, starting to fall asleep again.
As the bleeding subsides Larias relaxes a bit, and then, when its finished, she lifts the ball of fabric, holding tight to it, just in case she needs to use it again. An inspection, and for the moment she is satisfied its not serious, just painful. Only then does she realise his breathing is evening out, and, very nearly she reaches out to shake him, instead, she touches his shoulder, worry in her voice, "Savith? Please.. you have to stay awake.. for a bit longer"
Savith hmms softly, and after a moment, he opens his eyes again, unfocused for a moment, before he fights to remain steady again. It takes him far longer than it should. Finally, he licks his lips and moves to try to push himself up. **The whitetail?... ah.. I asked already. Where's my talonwhip?**
Larias frowns as he moves to push himself up. She moves to stand before him, bent over at the waist, finger poking him in the chest, ** I didn't say it was ok for you to move yet... What would I do if standing caused you to black out, hmm? ** Aside from panic and haul his sorry but back to LostHolt, not much. The question of whitetail and talon whip are left unanswered for the moment.
Savith oofs at poke, not having gotten further than up to an elbow. He replies curtly, **Then help be get up slowly, and I won't black out.** Simple logic should prevail, if the urge to fall over and sleep doesn'y win.
She can't really argue with that can she? Larias frowns and then relents, ** Ok.. but if you black out... ** She'll what, who knows, but it won't be pretty. ** Lets do this, -very- slowly then, ok? **
Savith would nod, but it doesn't seem so good of an idea, so he just holds out a hand. **Alright, together.**
Larias takes the hand he holds out, her own grip firm. Her magic reaches out, ready to envelope him should the need arise. And,. sending tinged with all sorts of worry and concern, fretting over nothing but his well being, ** As slow as you like... I am ready. **
Savith takes his time to compose himself, and gather the mental strength. His magic doesn't come as smoothly as he likes, and so, using complaining sinew, he pulls himself up, tugging at Larias's hand to do so. Half way to his feet, dizziness threatens, but true to his training, he bites down and stubborns through the rest and up on his feet. It leaves him drained, and he sags forward, with a groan.
Larias moves swiftly, from holding his hand as a steadying force to pull himself up by, to a sturdier frame to lean on. Yes she's tired, yes she flew hard and fast, but, this is her Recognized, a part of her soul, aching, in pain. She ducks under one of his arms, draping it quickly across her shoulders, and the other arm is wrapped about his waist, firmly holding on to him. She does not lift them both, right now, fearing weightlessness would be to inviting for slumber. Via sending she mutters, ** High Ones Savith.. please stay with me. Stay awake.. We need to go. **
Savith pants a bit. Taking a breath, he lifts his head, and draws himself up. A subtle sway, then he's staedy again with effort, much effort. He waits a bit, trying to draw up his magics as his eyes serach out his mount. Where is that.. ah, there. **Okay. Let's go.** Hmm... hello... Savith? Are you forgetting something?
Larias frowns softly, ** I will call winddance - the two kills will have to stay here. Ok? ** Her sending is worried, yes, she's noted he missed the fact he's missing things, ** I.. want you to stay awake though, ** ahh, distraction, ** Can you spot your whip? **
The fresh scent of blood in the night is already starting to draw unwanted attention. The distractions work, and Savith lowers his gaze to look about. Talonwhip... well, it's still attached to his arm. **I've got it,** he replies, then tries to focus on the other question. Ok? Okay what? Oh, the kills. **No. Need to bring them now.**
Larias gives the high shrill whistle that typically brings the bird to her. Its not quite the same as Savith's own whistle, "I'll have Wind grab them before we leave them." The lie slips so easily from her lips, she needs him to be calm, unworried, no clue how they arrived out here, it will be by his memory that they will return. ** When she's ready and circling, I'll bring you aloft with me, ok? **
Savith nods, then groans, leaning against Larias again, before he focres himeslf on his own feet again. **okay,** he agrees, believing, and yet, **I'll get the kills ready.**
Larias holds tightly on to him, if he thinks he'll be supporting his own weight, he has another think coming. Another lie, "I've got that taken care of. Pleae, just relax, ok?" She looks up, scanning the sky for the great hawk, and once again, gives the whistle, calling Winddance.
Savith blinks. When did she do that? Winddance, obident, comes at the second whistle, not having recognized the first for exactly what it was. She squawks, calling out as she lowers to a slow circle. Meanwhile, Savith tries to pull the talonwhip to him, but his mind's too fuzzy, and it aches to focus.
Larias lets out a sigh of relief as she hears Wind's answering squawk. Her grip about his waist tightens, her other hand going to grab his where it dangles over her shoulder. Yes, she could fly him without holding him, but spent as she was in downing the doe, she doesn't trust herself to be as delicate as needed with the closeness of touch. With but a thought, the pair lift up, the movement slow, as she confesses, ** I will need your help Savith, in returning to LostHolt. I don't know the way. **
Oh... the ground. Savith blinks a moment. He's not floating himself. Ah, what was the question? **Ah.. of course,** he replies, looking up toward the bird. There's that unsteady sensation of him trying to fly them both, but.. unable to. Below, as the gliders leave, scavengers start to converge onthe kill. But, at least Winddance has a live one in her talons still.
Larias makes no mention of his awkward use of his gifts, instead, steadily pushing them onward and upward, until she matches the slow circling Winddance, ** Savith. ** Its said, to garner his attention, I will settle you down, you have to stay upright, awake, you -have- to help guide me back to the Holt. ** Where there are healers, where there is shelter, where there is safety.
Savith reaches out as they near hte bird, moving to settle to the harness. **I can make it,** he sends, brw furrowing when he doesn't immeditely move toward the harness. A breath, and he forces himself to focus again, and manages to give a push with his magic.
As his use of magic, she allows him some modicum of control over himself, still keeping an eye about him, lest the magic falter in anyway. She stays floating, moving at the same speed as the bird, waiting until he is settled. ** How does your head feel... ? ** Keep him talking and awake, yes, thats the ticket!
Savith settles into his place, talonwhip dangling from his arm. **It's fine,** he replies, **Achy, but fine.** He readjustes, then leans forward to pat Winddance's, "Alright. Back home." What is he THINKING?!
Larias blinks, as he gives the command before she even has the chance to settle in behind. She gives Wind a shrill whistle, the stay and circle. Her mind races, High Ones, this is not good. Though she hates to do it, she grabs hold of the harness, squeezing in front of Savith. Worry and fear filter into her sending, ** Lostholt Savith, we need to go to Lostholt! Rosendo, Llune. Send her to Lostholt.! **
Oh.. right. Savith nods, and is just a dead weight as Larias presses him back. Lostholt. He thinks a minute, then whistles the return to camp signal. Winddance trills, and turns, veering east, back toward lostholt. Good bird. Here's a cookie. When Larias settles infront of him, he leans his forehead against her back, and closes his eyes. Ah.. sleep good.
Larias holds tight to the harness, silently urging the bird back to the Holt, willing her to fly fast and furious. Her other hand she wraps behind herself, with Savith clumped as he is, she holds onto him, as best she can, sending, ** Stay with me Savith. You can't sleep yet. ** Her tone is absolute.
Savith grumbles, and pushes himself upright again. **I'm here, I'm here. High ones, you're annoying.** It's just hte bump on his head! REALLY! A hand has draped about her waist loosely, and he turns his head to look tot he side. Winddance is a good girl,and hte forst looms near. It's not long, and she flutters to land at her 'camp' a landing spot in an open clearing in the forest not far from the Father Tree. The ride is short, for she doesn't detour. Her landing is, however, a bit rough, as she prances a bit to settle the doe under her talons, struggling to keep it alive, as bid by her elf.
** Good. It means you'll stay awake. ** She frowns darkly at the rough landing, though, wastes no time in lifting off bird back, extending her magics to Savith to do the same. Poor Winddance, no good birds given, no word on what to do with the creatuer in her talons. Larias is, after all, on a mission to keep her Recognized's wits intact.
Savith inhales as he's lifted from the bird's back. Barely hanging on to conscieceness, he reaches out for his bird, but can't muster the strength to drift to her. The bird looks at him, head tilted to one side. I'm a good bird, yes? Savith's brow furrow, **Wait.**
Larias pauses, glancing back, oh - the bird right. She hovers, with him much the same as before, arms about him, supporting. Aww, wouldn't Llune be thrilled to see such?
SHe sure would. When he's stopped, Savith smiles weakly. "There's a bird. You eat your fill, then give whatever's left to Volek, okay?" Okay. Good. Maybe she didn't get it, but he finally slums, going limp. Okay, no more for this elf. Sleep calls, and is a far more convincing mistress than any before.
Winddance tilts her head. Eat? Okay. She lowers her beak, dispatching the beat by tearing into it and eating it... still alive. Ew.
Larias flies swift and sure, weaving through the forest to get to the Holt, hoping she recalls enough of the way not to get them lost. Ahh, but when the Father Tree looms in sight, she heads off, down the appropriate path to the den they've been given. Of course, sans spears and kill, the wolfriders are likely not going to be happy.
Nope, they aren't going to be happy. Not one bit. The glider's mad rush to the den gets looks, especially since Savith looks to be out of it, and his talon whip trails behind him, wrapped about his arm. Whispered questions run along hte lines of: Did they get into a fight again?
