Open Some seek comfort in art

[Valo]

41st Winter Late afternoon Bree's Bivouac The city didn't have quite enough greenery for his tastes. Perhaps Reaver had been right, talking about developing the agriculture and perhaps this never bothered the red haired artist, for he had grown up in a place similarly shaped of stone and soul. but there was a certain allure to fauna and flora. A love for it, he had acquired during his stay in Endrykas perhaps, or Riverfall or some other wonderful city of Mizahar. Or perhaps it had lingered within him always, but only now did it begin to manifest. Tucked away among foliage and overgrown gardens lies a small cottage. Not quite a part of the vast stone substance of Zeltiva, yet not entirely separate from it. A green dominion among the grey of granite. That was precisely where the artist had taken him self as the sun began to hover lower in the sky. The prerequisite events had taken their toll on his mind and all he now wished for was peace, but that peace seemed out of reach. The convoluted mind of a young man had been nothing but a burden. Valo had perched him self several metres from the tiny cottage, using his bag as a barrier between his behind and the frozen solid soil, he was now tucked among the sleeping plants, as if he was one of them. A sketchbook on his lap, over which he leaned so that locks of fiery red hair perpetually obstructed his view. Had he only the sense to tie his hair back that day. However after a good ten days of throwing his skills to the wind - a time much less extensive than it seemed - it was time to give his very mind back to the force which was to blame for his very presence in this city. A city which in text books and letters seemed a paradise, but in reality was far from it. What Valo found, that architecture at his own terms was quite charming. Of course that was the case only when he chose the setting and the colour and the medium. And after having faintly sketched out the outlines of the cottage, the little lamp post that guarded it's entrance and the vegetation that enclosed it -very linear structures, near to no shading. So soft and faint. Gentle flowing outlines of the plants. There were places where a high density of marks convoluted with structural lines and detailing, giving the sense of depth. A third dimension which would later be amplified with colour -he had taken to paint and water for sparking life into the scenery. A simple medium, yet such a hard technique to grasp. This time he wanted to experiment with white spacing. Those were tiny little spaces which divided colour on the paper, giving the illusion as if someone had outlined the subject with chalk of some sort. A meticulous illusion and very time costly, but created the most endearing of illustrations. Perhaps Valo loved children's books just as much as he loved children and if he would ever have the chance to participate in the creation of such, he would gladly gab the opportunity. But of course that was a foolish dream. Yet dreaming about such pleasantnesses was exactly what he now needed, a distraction of the days at hand. He worked steadily and gracefully he worked, mixing the various hues of green and brown for the sprouting of the vegetation from iced soil. Hues tinted by grey of the season, yet maintaining the original form for it was a fantasy he was painting. A manifestation of a wonderland where colours were always saturated. The very favourite green he produced, which he then swathed at the very back of his sketchbook and annotated for future reference, was quite a complex concoction of pigments. An ultramarine blue as a base, mixed with both lemon yellow and ochre to make a warm mint that retained grey undertones. Then he added specks of cadmium red until the required tone, a desired darkness to the green was achieved, for colours complimentary on the colour wheel had a habit of rendering one another a darker hue. And the orange nature of the red not only surfaced the dirty undertones of the green, it also warmed it so the colour was no longer mint but another green of an organic warmth, similar to that of beans or other such vegetables. It has been too long since Valo allowed him self to be swallowed up by his pondering upon colour theory as such. Too long indeed. Some seek comfort in art and it did bring peace to the soul. It allowed him to focus entirely on the painting and not on the thoughts that troubled him. It erased the bloody red WEAK for now, if only just. But should he stop painting, those horrors would come flooding back like a cascade of ugly pigment, ready to drown him again. Slowly the illustration began forming on the paint. A three dimensional cottage clad in everything from elaborate blue-toned greys, to the yellows and rusts brought out from the rock as light hit it and the greens of moss that wound at it's very feet. Muted purples in the shadows and soft pale yellows in the highlights. A portrait of tranquillity and seclusion. and as the paint dried, it formed elaborate, lettuce leaf like patterns on the rock which added a sense of texture. Often these seemed an artist's worst nightmare, but in this case such 'mistakes' complimented the subject. The surrounding vegetation was separated from the hues of the building by such white spacing. Each leaf hovered precisely in it's place, isolated by these white outlines, very subtle yet powerful. Flora sprouted from the inky soil. Perhaps once the masterpiece dries, the artist would further outline with quill and ink to expose it's linear nature. Perhaps, but for not he remained in his place, slowly dragging brush across paper. A man in perfect, almost meditation like, concentration.

[Besnik]

Besnik ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^ Besnik sat on the outside of a crowded square looking in at the people of the city going about their lives. His back leant against the cool stone of someone’s house as the afternoon sun soothed him, highlighting the calm smile on his face. There seemed to be much going on in Zeltiva at present, yet the Kelvic wasn’t directly involved and so was one of the few who could relax. Unfortunately though, the same couldn’t be said for some of his friends; especially Valo. He could make out over the bond they shared that the man had been feeling very stressed out recently, probably due to the recent murder he’d witnessed. The canine couldn’t remember the name of the one who had died, yet realised the funeral had been yesterday. He’d kept his distance, unsure on whether or not the other man would want to talk about it. His instinct told him to find the other, and so Besnik had quickly made up his mind to find time to speak to him. The red head’s closed eyes opened as he tried to make out the time of day. The afternoon was beginning to get late, and so he decided to move on. He wanted to find somewhere to sleep tonight before it was too late, and there wasn’t much of any interest going on in the square. Moving on through the streets, the man tried to put thoughts of recent events out of his mind. The canine subconsciously registered the fact that the link seemed to have calmed down. He wondered what had caused it, but was glad Valo wasn’t so stressed out at the moment. Time passed quickly when one was used to wandering, and so the afternoon seemed to sail by as he meandered through strange streets he’d never passed through before. Almost without his notice, the stonework of the city was replaced by an overgrown mass of greenery. The plants built up slowly, creeping up on you in a way that you only realised they were there once you were amongst them. Besnik tilted his head as he made out a cottage a little ways ahead of him, interesting scents of mingling strangers that had been and passed entwining around the certain spot. The animal curiosity in him perked up at the odd sight in front of him, a strange little building surrounded by greenery in a city of even blocks. He headed forward, stopping in front of a stone lamp to read the inscription; Bree’s Bivouac. The Kelvic frowned, tilting his head again as he looked back up at the cottage. Apart from the variety of people that had visited recently, there didn’t seem to be anything special about the place to him. As he considered stepping forward to investigate, he picked up on a shifting to his left. Head swivelling around suddenly, his eyes locked on a familiar figure. It seemed as though worrying about his bondmate had actually taken him to where the man had hidden himself away that day. He grinned, brightening up at the sight of the man busy painting; the cottage, he guessed, since that was the main attraction of this secluded spot. With the stealth of an animal, the Kelvic crept forwards until he was stood behind the other, looking over his shoulder from a short distance to watch the artist work. Since meeting his companion he’d begun to develop an appreciation for art he’d never felt before. Though still far from being able to understand complicated aspects of colouring and ratio of tones on a page, he enjoyed watching the process of creating and sometimes even joined in. The man waited for Valo to notice him, happy to stand in the rippling shadow of a drooping tree that seemed connected to the overgrown shrubs beneath it. He felt a strong sense of duty to watch over the other, and so simply waiting around was more pleasing to him than running up to disturb the work as he would with anyone else. The Kelvic could smell the familiar paints that drifted gently through the small clearing, the scent a gentle warmth that wrapped welcoming arms around him. The painting, he guessed, must be what had calmed the man, or at least taken his concentration away from other things. Valo at least did seem to be concentrating very hard on it. Feeling content, a purr like grumble sounded from the canine’s chest as his eyes switched between watching the artist and glancing curiously at the cottage. ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^ ||Besnik|| ||3 years|| ||Kelvic|| ||Bondmate - Valo||

[Valo]

Silence lingered about him. Silence that lingered as if indeed it was a shroud that supressed everything it fell upon. Valo was who this shroud fell upon. Valo the artist, Valo the Inarta, Valo the simple man who, submerged in his simplicity, perhaps found moment in which the art brought him peace. It seemed surprising almost, how a man whose very name bore the meaning of light could be filled with such darkness that emanated from his very soul. The soul of a man who, reluctant to grow up, was finally forced into the adult condition by the cruel fate.

Having lived a sheltered life until now had proven to his dismay, for he knew not how to deal with the horror his eyes and his ears had witnessed. He knew not how to deal with the paint all around him. The murder and the pestilence. What other atrocities were to befall his beloved city? What else did the future have in store?

He remained painting when Besnik arrived. Takin no notice of his friend, despite the strange feeling that someone was watching him. The artist however, merely waved that feeling off as a manifestation of paranoia which, he assured himself, was only a result of all these things that recently happened. Surely that was the case. He remained submerged in his meditative concentration for quite a while until alas tiredness of his mine broke him free from the condition and with utmost surrender; he looked about himself only to find the familiar feature of his companion, planted some distance away.

For a prolonged moment he did nothing but stare, his expression solemn, his eyes a muted green, so unlike that constant emerald animation that was so well known to Besnik. One might think that for a moment Valo did not recognise his beloved Kelvic friend, that perhaps he stared straight though him as if Besnik was some elaborate residual haunting, not flesh and bone. And it was only after that very moment that a subtle crescent of a smile finally broke across Valo's face, a bone white hand gestured for the man to some closer. He did not speak however. Instead merely awaited the usual explosion of energy on the behalf of the cheerful dhole.

[Mak'Viri]

Mak'viri sighed, wringing her hands which were still covered in the blood of her last patient as the boys wheeled the cart of dead away. She hated that her current job saw so many citizens' lives flee before her very eyes as she tried desperately to save them what whatever she knew how to do. Binding their wounds, finding the pestilence and trying to sear it from them did nothing as they succumbed to their sickness. It was a bleak time in Zeltiva. And Mak'Viri's heart went out to the grieving souls and the many she'd seen pass as she tried her hardest to save them. She tucked in one of the few patients that were still holding on to their lives despite the sickness that coursed their veins and choked their breaths.

For one who had never seen a human corpse before the 20th day of winter, it had hardly seemed she would be able to bare being a doctor for the duration of the winter. But, having no other skills that could be of use in a profession of any kind to live in Zeltiva for any amount of time would see her caring for the sick, dying, and dead until the winter passed. And she was determined to help despite only recently gotten over her previous sensibilities. She bit her lip and turned to wash her hands in the water basin, taking off the blood-spattered apron provided by the infirmary, readying herself to go to the Denvali Quarter, where she spent her nights curled with other homeless people for warmth during the winter's chill as she slept. She would walk a little around the city, first, to collect her thoughts and settle the pain in her heart for every loss she'd seen that day, as had become her newest habit.

So she carefully put the bandages, waters, herbs, tools, and freshly cleaned linens away. She changed from the infirmary uniform of white swathing cloths and cloth face masks to protect herself at least a little from the illness and put on her customary sea-foam dress over her ivory chemise, ignoring the giant, hap hazardously-stitched seam in the front from when it had torn about a week ago. Over this, she wore her teal scarf and dark brown coif over her neck and hair respectively, and over all this she threw on her dark brown wool cloak. Mostly concealed now, as was her custom in the world beyond Mura, Mak'Viri hefted her pack over one shoulder and walked out of the infirmary with a single glance back, a troubled frown under her brow.

She walked around Zeltiva for a time, cloak wrapped tightly around her, huddled into her own frame as the chilled wind swept through the stone and frozen earth. But it wasn't all that bad here, the decided. Despite the plague that had befallen the city, despite the less-than happy circumstances, Zeltiva was still a good city. And if it got really bad, the hope of surviving until spring to leave to somewhere new was one that would hold her until the time actually came to leave. She let out a huff as she turned to another road, deciding to really go somewhere new. Her thoughts swirled around in her brain, her mind lingering on the faces she'd seen today, of those who were still struggling to survive in that infirmary, of those who had died, of the limp hands that hung from the edges of the cart wheeled out hourly.

She couldn't seem to tear her mind away from that. Until she found the temple of Rak'keli. She stopped in her tracks immediately at the small, ramshackle little cottage that was undoubtedly Her shrine. She felt a small amount of relief trickle through her. Feet moving of their own accord, she walked forward to gently touch one of the columns outside. The Healing Goddess was familiar to her, if only from a distance, while she had lived in Mura. She had studied Healing there, enough to be able to tend to most wounds and some illnesses to a tolerable degree until more expert hands could attend, as had been her Caregiver's intention. Now she worked desperately to save people without those experts on hand, and she had to learn more to save her patients' lives.

To be near this small shrine gave her some hope. Perhaps she would be helping more than she knew. She didn't know. Perhaps not. But Rak'keli was here in some small manner, and while Mak'Viri bore no gnosis, she still had the belief that she could heal, even if the overwhelming blight in Zeltiva had shaken her a little. She smiled and stepped away from the cottage, ready to go on back to the Denvali Quarter, when she saw a flash of fiery red out of the corner. She paused, looking around for it again, and spotted a person bent over, red hair long and unbound around him as he worked diligently on something she could not see.

She tilted her head slightly, watching silently as he glanced up every now and again at the plants around, and dipped brushes in paints and waters. She approached hesitantly, but stopped when he looked up and stared at something else. She tried to follow his gaze, and spotted another man standing some ways away, watching them silently. She looked back and forth between the two, but caught the man's smile and beckoning hand. Clearly, these two knew each other in some manner. She stepped back, not wanting to intrude, though she was curious as to how the man's painting had turned out.

She looked around for a moment, wondering if there was a way for her to back out and leave before she was discovered for her staring. Plus, she probably still smelled heavily like blood, and she had no doubt even normal people would smell it, and probably the lingering scents of illness and healing herbs that she had used during the day, since they were so strong. She wasn't aware of the blood streaked over her forehead and cheek, nor did she know that her lips were vaguely swollen from biting them so often, that purple, green, and brown pastes clung to the strands of white hair that framed her face. And that she was in the path of an oncoming driver.

She heard a brief shout of warning, and she whirled around to see the horse and cart careening toward her. She only just managed to leap out of the way, stumbling when she landed on her feet again, only to tumble down as she overbalanced and rolled until she was face up, staring at the sky overhead, dizzy and a little embarrassed. She got up, brushing herself off, red-stained cheeks seeming to glow against the paleness of the rest of her flesh. She turned to watch the cart go by, having slowed only a little, and the driver still shouting warnings to other citizens endangered by the relentlessly fast pace.

She shook her head with a frown, and looked around. She was now much closer to the painter than she had wanted to be. She was close enough now to see the deep fern-coloured green in his eyes, the strange feminine fullness to his lips, the paleness of his flesh. She stepped back quickly.

[Besnik]

Besnik ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^ Besnik felt comfortable in the silence that wrapped around the tiny slice of nature within the populated city. Occasionally a bird’s sweet song would catch his attention, attuned senses hearing the slight changes of pitch that may be unnoticeable to the average listener. His face was the picture of calm, relaxed despite the inward thoughts. He’d felt a worry and stress wrapping around him recently, emotions not emitted form him but from the man sat before him. He wanted to help the other, but he wasn’t sure where to start. So instead he had kept a fair amount of distance compared to earlier in the winter, keeping track of the red haired man from a far. The funeral of the man his companion had seen being murdered was the day before and he could feel the stress the man had been under, temporarily on halt as Valo was engrossed in painting. The Kelvic was slightly put out that his companion didn’t realise he was there, continuing with his art as though nothing had changed. Despite that he remained where he was, back against a tree with a slight breeze blowing through his hair. Valo turned at that moment, looking in his direction, and Besnik’s eyes brightened with a greater smile appearing on his face. He was about to say something when he noticed the man’s solemn expression and blank, almost emotionless stare. The canine’s features fell at that unfamiliar face, the lack of animation making Valo almost unrecognisable. The canine expected the man to say something in greeting, but as the seconds passed time seemed to stretch out and Besnik’s chest seemed to twist painfully. He flinched slightly, considering leaving his companion alone in peace. Just then a hand raised as a subtle hint of a small appeared on the man’s face, reassuring the Kelvic slightly. As Valo gestured for him to move forward, he obeyed and stood straight before moving forwards. His eyes creased up in happiness at being closer to Valo, glad he wasn’t being out right turned away. However his approach was still cautious, body posture obviously giving his worry away. Valo’d been through a lot in the past few weeks and Besnik didn’t want to do anything to make it worse, though his instincts pushed him the last few steps until he was stood before Valo’s back. Arms wrapped around Valo as the Kelvic buried his face into the soft red hair atop the man’s head in a gesture both meant to be comforting and a greeting. The same noise, unique to him in a human form, came from him; a mixture between a purr and a grumble to show he was content as he smiled. The meeting was different from usual, where he would bound up and greet Valo loudly, but the Kelvic felt as though words didn’t need to be spoken yet and in most cases went with his first intincts. The breeze changed direction suddenly and an uneasy feeling settled upon the canine as he smelt a mixture of blood and disease. Such scents were cause for intense caution within nature, where eating a diseased carcass could result in a foul end for a predator. Wishing to protect the artist, the purring grumble in the Kelvic’s chest evolved into a growling snarl. He wouldn’t allow anything to harm his bondmate. Besnik lifted his head, eyes narrowed, as his chin rested atop Valo’s head. His usual friendly composure was wiped away and gave way to the instinctual predator whenever he felt threatened. He hated that side of him, the side that would happily harm someone he knew if they got in the way of a fresh meal just as happily as if he had a just cause to protect someone, yet it was usual in such circumstances as this. His muscles were tensed, arms subconsciously wrapping tighter around Valo. Glaring eyes located a woman where he guessed the source of the scent was, just as a speeding horse and cart narrowly avoided hitting her. Startled, the Kelvic froze with widened eyes and could do nothing but watch the near accident. She had only dodged by falling closer to the pair, now brushing herself off as she stood. The woman was a stranger and still had the scent of illness and death surrounding her, causing another warning noise to rumble through his chest as his lip curled up and exposed fangs slightly more elongated than the average human’s. Protective instincts took precedence over better senses after the chaotic near accident moments before. As she stepped back, the noise let up and he tried to calm himself down, though he still watched her suspiciously. ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^ ||Besnik|| ||3 years|| ||Kelvic|| ||Bondmate - Valo||

[Valo]

Alas Valo found himself in the warm embrace of his dearest of companions, strong arms wrapped around him, face nuzzled into his curtain of red and that familiar soothing purr came from Besnik's throat. The purr which he had grown so fond of from the very first moment he had met the happy dhole. And after merely a moment of hesitation, a moment of indulgence in the contact and the warmth of the embrace, the artist's arms wound around his beloved Kelvic, holding him tight, responding with just as warm an affection. He had buried himself in the man, momentarily let go of all his worried and troubles and simply enjoyed the affection.

No words were spoken though language, for that was of no use in these intimate moments. All that needed to be said, was spoken though action alone. In the privacy of only their own company, or so he thought.

It was only then that a change had occurred in Besnik. A tensing of muscles, the embrace growing protective. Almost overly protective. Something stressed him out and Valo, more than anyone, could feel this unease within the Kelvic.

A pale hand reached for the Kelvi's face, rested on his cheek comfortingly as another one fallowed. A soothing motion of thumbs that now gently stroked the porcelain of Besnik's skin. "Calm, my friend." spoke Valo, his voice merely a hushed caress upon Besnik's ears. "What is it? What troubles you?" Valo's forehead pressed against his, muted green eyes looked deep into those chocolate orbs of his companion's.

A shout, a distressed neigh of an animal and the sound of wheel carts rolling jaggedly against the uneven cobbles. A muffled thump, too close to ignore. Valo's very senses snapped back to reality and away from his Kelvic. Eyes, a little more alert now, yet still beholding the profound grey within their green hues, studied the surrounding, only to find a Konti woman - or such was the presumption, judged by the white of her hair and the paleness of her flesh - pulling herself from the ground awkwardly. A smudge of red across her forehead and cheek.

Grasping Besnik by the hand, the artist abandoned his art wholeheartedly and hurried over to the lady, an expression of concern within his feature, manifesting solemnly in his voice. Those where the expressions which he seemed to take on more often these days. "Are you hurt my lady?" he asked hastily. "There is blood on you."

[Mak'Viri]

Mak'Viri blinked in confusion as the painter came quickly forward. She backed up a step, glancing over at the hostile-sounding snarl that had erupted from the man's lips. Startled and still a little dizzy, she shook her head for a moment. Only the mention of blood seemed to snap her out of her daze. ”Bleeding?” She echoed worriedly. She quickly patted herself down, feeling for injuries and looking over her dress for any blood. Finding nothing, she looked back to the painter. ”I don't see any.” She stated with confusion.

She shook her head a little, and widened her eyes as she felt her hair whip over her face. Her coif! She looked around for it, and found it on the ground a little way away. It had likely come off when she had fallen over after getting out of the path of that cart. Grimacing, she quickly darted over to snatch it back up and brushed off the dirt. She looked around her. She was in the middle of the street. Again.

Wisely, she decided to go off to the side as the artist had previously been, though she carefully stayed away from the man who had growled so threateningly before. He eyed her with distrust and suspicion. Her intuition was quick to fill in the blanks. He could smell the lingering scents she still had from working in the infirmary all day. She looked to the painter, and back to the man, and quickly assumed that they were together in some form or fashion, and that the man was being protective of the other.

From her.

She bit her lip and sat upon one of the steps to the Shrine behind her, taking care enough to stay away from both. ”I feel fine, in any case. Thank you for the concern.” She said, deciding that whatever blood he had seen must have been some small amount somewhere she couldn't see. Since nothing hurt, she guessed it wasn't terribly important. ”I do want to apologize for interrupting.” She said sheepishly, gesturing to the painting he had discarded, and to the man who seemed so wary of her. To be truthful, it was odd to be looked at so warily. She was not a very intimidating or dangerous individual. She hated hurting others, and never tried to. To be the cause of such caution and open hostility was a strange thing indeed.

[Besnik]

Besnik ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^ The Kelvic was relieved when Valo accepted his embrace, happy to simply hold onto the obviously distressed artist for as long as was necessary. He wasn’t happy to be interrupted by the approach of a woman bearing the strong scent of illness around her, especially before he could find out whether it was the funeral or something else that was troubling the man. His muscles were tense as he looked over the artist’s head, his snarling not unnoticed by the man he was trying to protect. The hand now on his cheek felt comforting; Valo’s gentle voice reaching his ears even as he watched the woman. Besnik opened his mouth to answer and voice his suspicions of the scent around the woman the artist hadn’t yet noticed, when he startled at the near accident, the incident also pulling the other man’s attention away from listening for his answer. Valo grasped his hand and before he could stop him, they were making their way over to the stranger. Unhappier the closer they got, not willing for Valo’s health to be risked by whatever the unknown scent surrounding her was, Besnik dragged behind a little. He was no help to the artist moving forward, almost like dead weight as he was dragged. The artist’s concern was one that the Kelvic himself would usually also hold, if it wasn’t for his concern over the man’s distress that whilst momentarily forgotten about he could still feel lurked within him. He stood slightly behind the artist and watched as the stranger picked up a piece of dirtied cloth, tilting his head slightly as she spoke up. As the stranger stepped back and sat a little away on the step, apologising for interrupting, the canine felt a slight twinge of guilt. He was generally a friendly man, happy to talk with whoever came along, but there were two circumstances that could make him violent; if he was eating or something triggered his protective instinct over those he was loyal to. He retreated a little, keeping an eye of her for moment before speaking up. “What’s that scent surrounding you?” he voiced, speaking in a less aggressive tone than his snarl had been. In a very literal sense of the phrase, he was often all bark but no bite, and preferred to make friends than have tense meetings. Once he found out what that scent was, he might recogniser his suspicions of her and feel better about being around her. ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^ ||Besnik|| ||3 years|| ||Kelvic|| ||Bondmate - Valo||

[Valo]

”Bleeding? I don't see any.” the woman spoke innocently as she patted her self down in ears of wounds. At that moment Valo raised his finger to his own forehead. A silent way of showing her where the blood was located but it seemed that somehow she missed his motion. And judging by the fact she remained so completely oblivious to it, the artist figured out it was either causing her very little pain and therefore was not serious, or she sought it a fashion statement of some strange sort. Though the other notion was utmost laughable. And with that he decided to leave the matter alone if it was none of his concern currently.

Beside him Valo could feel Besnik's tension. Apparent it was in the very way the man had dragged him self, a dead weight on the artist's movement, a ball of nerves now standing beside him, eyeing the stranger with suspicion. And as she went about her business, retrieving an item of clothing of some sort from the street, before perching her self elegantly upon the steps of the shrine, Valo turned to his Kelvic and spoke very directly. Softly yet with the underlying notes of an order. "Now you, be good Bes. Don't be rude." and with those words he squeezed the dhole's hand gently. A warm smile illuminating his face, manifesting in all but those muted eyes of his. A smile that was intended to convey his deep affection for the creature.

”I feel fine, in any case. Thank you for the concern. I do want to apologize for interrupting.” she spoke as she gestured to his work that now laying abandonment just a short way away. None the less, he was by far not in the mood to carry on the conversation, especially in retrospect of recent events. An outward man, inwardly for a day.

Thus he spoke and his words were empty pleasantry. "No need to apologise madam." and with those word she abandoned Besnik's side in hope that he would become the backbone of the awkward conversation in wake of Valo's departure. But the prerequisite to that was in order and with little hesitation the artist began to gather his artistic tools. The painting, quickly dried was tucked back into his sketchbook and placed back in the bag. The icy dirt brushed off meticulously. Indeed Valo was about to take his leave, about to abandon the situation and all it was, for there was no peace and quiet in conversation. And alone in his mind is what he wanted to bee. Perhaps meditation would ease him. In solitude he wished to bury him self.

“What’s that scent surrounding you?” asked Besnik and glad was Valo to see that his aggression had subsided. That he had indeed obeyed his command. And with those few words, the artist looked to the woman just for moments more before departure. Smell? What smell?

[Mak'Viri]

Mak'Viri wasn't sure quite what was going on. The painter had pointed to his forehead when she had asked where the blood was, so she ran her hand over her own. It came with a smudge of red that had begun to dry in certain areas, so it flaked a little. Rubbing again, Mak'Viri scrubbed at her whole forehead, just to be sure she wouldn't miss anything. Certain her forehead was now clean enough to not cause future concern, she nodded her thanks to the painter, though he was already leaving. The other man's question called for her attention. She looked at him now, as he was closer than before, and could see nothing terribly unusual about him bar his words. So he had a superior sense of smell. She was curious as to what he was, as he didn't seem human. And she wondered if he could be a Kelvic. She'd met a fair few while in Zeltiva. They seemed to like it here. She smiled, thinking of the other kinds of Kelvic she'd met, though some had been on the infirmary cots. She looked back to the man for a moment, her gaze speculative. What scent could he mean? She wondered. The smell of sickness was one that she had grown accustomed to, though she wondered if it was strong enough that it could be alarming to him. Perhaps that mixed with herbs was something that had combined to make this odd smell? ”If you're talking about the smell of sickly things, then what you're smelling is the infirmary I work in. I'm a Doctor.” She explained gently, hoping that this would lower the man's wariness. She hated to upset people, and would generally rather sooth them than agitate. ”I apologize if it startled you. I'm not used to having others that can smell where I work on me. My name is Mak'Viri. I feel like we started off on the wrong foot.” She said with a smile. ”What's your name?” She asked with a tilt of her own head so that the stands of white hair fell over her eyes briefly until the wind lifted them away. She peered at him with her pale violet-blue eyes. She wanted to confirm her suspicions, and she could not contain her own curiosity. ”Are you a Kelvic?” She hoped the questions did not seem rude...