Seeking what was lost (Timshel)

[Isedan Autumnrun]

Timestamp: Fall 89, 513 She moved in silence through the tents, her hand holding the leash loosely in her hand with the young painted dog trolloping ahead. Cotice had not been pleased when she'd come home with this pathetic whelp some twenty days gone. He had yelled for nearly a bell at her and thrust the responsibility of caring and training the animal onto the woman, something she had never before done (not that the virile man cared about more than what he received each night...). With eyes half-closed, Isedan slipped past the last tent of Emerald clan's clustering and entered the flattened grass, the dog yipping excitedly to be let free for a time. She had found that Nyon, as he had been named, had a strong sense of loyalty to her, though why this was she could not discern. Perhaps it sensed the serval in her and wanted nothing more than to play. And that was what she would give him. The woman had not made it obvious what she was so the "secret" was less of a secret and more of an unknown or unobserved event as she walked the dog to a trail she had spotted near the edges of the grass. It was a large enough clearing here that she could release his leash without fearing he would bound into the terrible Grasses. Besides, it was cold, and winter was approaching swiftly, leaving the kelvic to wonder what would come. She knew what the weather was like in Syliras, but Cyphrus was a whole new world to her. She also knew that the moving city of tents and horse and man had been marching ever southward, skirting the southern ocean as it marched its way along. Sometimes it stayed at a seemingly random location for days, others for only a night. But it was still cold. The warmth of summer had left some time ago and now, frost was a constant thing in the mornings. As it was, Isedan really just wanted the companionship of another animal, the warmth of a body more...comforting...than that lusty fool. He had his child coming, could he not let her be? "Alright, pup, we're here, we're here. Hold still now!" The woman knelt beside the dog, her face tensing a little at the wave of nausea that swept through her, and reached for his collar to unclip the leash. Pausing to scritch at one of his ears, the dame smiled fondly. "Don't run off now. There's a good boy." The leash came off and the dog sat there contently thumping his tail and whining for her to hurry up. "Alright, alright. Stay there." Isedan straightened and moved to the back of one of the tents, dropping the leash there and pulling the wool-lined blouse over her head before wiggling out of her slacks, the simple clothing all that Cotice wanted her to wear when outside the pavilion. Both garments were then laid upon the ground before she turned towards the dog who now was in a play-bow, ready to wrestle. He she would not actually wrassle with him, but he was younger than she and her burdened state could make her temperamental in her animal form. Shivering a little as she clapped her hands together against her chest, Isedan let the change come, a flash of color and light and the serval appearing an instant later, standing and chirping at the dog. He woofed back at her and bounded towards the large-eared cat, bowing before her again and licking at her long neck. A righteous purr escaped then and the feline rubbed against his face in return, even offering a lick across the bridge of his nose. Gods, she missed this kind of affection...It made her think of Lukyc, but the heart-wrenching sorrow she had felt most of the season had finally begun to abate. And for that, Issy was happy.

[Timshel]

Timshel pulled his cloak close, breathing into his hands. His first, deep breath of the day let out a cloud of vapor that rolled over his fingers, lingered and left into the cold morning air. There had been cold nights in the desert. Often, the nights were cold. But never during the day. To Timshel, it was a tease to see the sun shine so bright and yet feel none of its rays. The breeze betrayed him as well. No longer was the gust a relief but a raid, as the winds broke through soft walls of cloth to steal heat from beneath his sleeves. Timshel watched his breath drift away, wondering if part of his soul went with it. Timshel began to strap his bag onto Jas and went through his checklist. Gladius? Check. Slingshot? Check. Water? Check. Flint & Steel? Check. A torch? check. Rope? Check. Lunch? Good. As of yet, Timshel hadn't found any that were willing to hunt with him. It was unfortunate, but until he did he couldn't go far from camp. He made sure to double check everything. Whenever Timshel left to go off into the grasslands, he made it a point to walk past the green pavilions. The hunters pavilions. He eyed the skins, looking at the pelts. He saw that many had rope burns, fur ripped and torn around their necks-- caught in traps. Some pelts were littered with arrow wounds. The bigger animals, such as boars, had been impaled with long spears. Other hides had bite marks. Timshel looked down at Jas, his gladius, and his slingshot. He frowned. Moving past the last of the green tents, Timshel came to part of the city edge-- a small clearing with a smaller trail at the corner of it. He had seen Drykas leave and arrive via the trail, unharmed. Timshel hadn't been much more than a mile down it, simply noting the many smaller trails that branched off before coming back. He had been forced to stop before. Even in the fall, the bugs would swarm him. He'd flail one arm wildly, while trying to hold Jas' reigns steady in the other. Still, he had refused to go much more than a trot in the wild, marking each branch in the trail with charcoal and parchment. Whenever he'd dismount, he had been shadowed by grass and could only see about twenty feet in front of him. The blades would reach out to tickle and trick him into trying to swat away more bugs. After a while, Timshel's eyes would ache for the desert horizon, then subsequently, his bed. He'd turn back. The city was still moving daily, though. Soon, the trail would be left behind completely and Timshel would have to start exploring adjacent land. He mounted Jas and headed over. Timshel stopped. In the corner of his eye, he had seen a flash of light. When he looked, though, all he saw was the last of the Endrykas tents. All that could be heard was the soft whistle of wind on grass. That, and a dog barking. Nothing el-- Timshel heard something else. A deep-throated purr. One of the hunting cats from the Emerald tents, perhaps. He pulled the reigns on Jas and began to trot over.

[Isedan Autumnrun]

Nyon yipped and tried to paw at the servals face, his tongue hanging comically. Issy could only grin inwardly at his antics, glad she had purchased him. Though he was young, his heart had helped to heal hers. Issy ducked beneath the paw and swatted back at him, the happy purr descending into a low gruu as she turned and paced along the tent edge. The pup was still too untrained to be trusted out in the grasses and Issy did not yet know the terrain enough to make her way back safely. Cyphrus was a dangerous realm, or so she had always been taught. She led the dog on, flicking short tail casually as long legs carried her forth. When they rounded a tent, however, the pair came face to face with a horse and rider. Now, the sight itself was not unusual, only the appearance of the one upon the horse. Where Nyon bounded forward, yipping excitedly and dancing around the horses feet, Issy hung back, her ears raising high and feet coming even beneath her. The musty smell of horse was strong but the kelvic had grown used to it. Nyon, come on now...he doesn't look like the other people in the city. What if he's dangerous?....How ridiculous I sound; what if he is like me? The cat sat then, tail curling against her legs and ears perking towards the figure on the horse. She chirped once at him, watching for what reaction might be gained. OOCSorry, kind of short.

[Timshel]

“Jas, it's just a desert-pup. Calm down!” When Timshel had approached the tent, two animals also rounded it. One was a dog, a desert-bred pup. The other was some sort of wild cat. Benshira sometimes used those dogs to help round cattle. His eyes had glanced over and dismissed it, his gaze stopping on the cat. It looked to be somewhere between an lynx and a cheetah-- medium-sized and tawny, but with black spots sprinkled behind its back, and long black strips by its neck. It's long, oval ears on top of its short-snouted face were the most prominent parts of the animal. They were also the only part that perked up, currently. The cat was crouched, legs tucked and tail swaying. It let out a small chirp. Timshel thought that its ears oddly matched the pup's. The first thing Timshel did when seeing the animals was reach for his slingshot. At the same moment, the desert pup began bouncing and bounding between Jas' legs, barking sporadically. Just when fingers wrapped around carved bone, Jas reeled in a fit of neighs. With only one hand on the reigns and one hand outstretched, twisted behind him in his pack-- Timshel fell off his horse. ... WOOF. Timshel's head bounced hard off the grass. “Shyke, Jas, you've been around desert dogs before,” he groaned, rolling over. After he finished blinking away darkness, he saw two round yellow eyes, about fifteen feet away, staring back at him. He dropped the slingshot in his right hand to reach for the gladius by his side. When his hand reached the hilt, he stopped. The fur on the cat's neck was matted and wet. He looked over at the dog and his horse. Jas was no longer realing, just sniffing and snorting, trying to trot circles away from the pup. Her reigns made loud slapping sounds against her side as she did so. Snot and steam flew and rose from her muzzle, dripping spittle in a wild huff. “If you had done that two weeks from now, when the ground is freezes, you might not still have a master, you know,” Timshel said, sitting up and rubbing the back of his neck. The horse simply kept huffing in circles. Timshel moved his knees beneath him, allowing the toes of his boots to grab grass while still resting the weight of his body between the knape of his ankle and calves. He turned his attention back to the cat while moving his hands. “You see what I have to deal with?” he said, looking at the cat and gesturing with his left hand; his right, he moved onto his lap, next to the hilt. OOCNo worries. Sometimes a poster (me) doesn't leave you with much.

[Isedan Autumnrun]

Issy continued to eye the horse and rider until the horse began to bounce in displeasure at the yipping pup and dismounted said man! Well that was one way to get rid of unwanted luggage. The servan chuffed in what was nearly laughter at the sight then rose to her feet and approached the fallen figure, stopping again well out of reach to sit, and then lay upon the ground.

He was a strange figure with strange skin and features, nothing like the Sylirans and nothing like the Drykas, so far as she could tell. His skin was very dark and she wondered if maybe he was one of the mysterious desert folk Lukyc had told her stories of. The man turned his attention in reprimand on the horse and she took note of its name. Jas - a curious name too! The pup had begun to settle finally and bounded back towards the feline, nuzzling against her side and taking one of her large ears in mouth (much to the servals displeasure). She hissed at the dog and gave him a sharp nip; the painted yelped and dropped to his belly, rolling onto his side then and staring wide-eyed up at her.

One of his paws was pushing into her side and the wave of discomfort that struck her nearly knocked the feline to her belly as she continued to stare down at the dog, growling in the back of her throat.

Ornery pup, you have so much to learn.

The creatures gaze moved back to the man on the ground now, but tensed, her fur stiff down her back, when she saw his hand on the hilt of a sword-like weapon at his side. It was relatively short, and she judged it to be used for one-handed attacks instead of two. The problem was that the man looked as if he might draw it. She was not particularly interested in dying because of confusion, but her instinct to flight in this situation was pushing her to do so.

Humanity won out.

There was a flash of colors where the serval had been before a woman took its place, tall and slender with short earthy hair and wide, grey-gold eyes. She shivered against the late-fall chill and cleared her throat of the nervous growl that lingered from before in order to speak. In the event that he was a Drykas and did not understand Common, as many seemed not to, she spoke slowly and carefully.

"Would like not die." She had yet to learn Pavi in any form of proficiency, other than hello, goodbye, and her name (and a few other simple words and gestures). "Not hurt please?" Her head nodded to the sword, hopefully giving him enough confidence to not draw it.

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[Timshel]

Timshel cocked his head when he saw the pup nuzzling the cat. Jas simply huffed. The pup continued to play, gnawing at the cats ear. The cat hissed and nipped the dog in return, but the pup just fell back, dinnerbowl eyes and all. Now the cat looked back at him, hairs bristled. Timshel blinked. Suddenly, there was a flash of lights and color swirling and orbiting the cat-- no, a woman now, naked and tall in the flattened grass. “A-” Timshel coughed. His mouth had been hanging open, and the cold air finally caught the back of his mouth. He swallowed and rubbed his throat, giving the woman a sidelong glance. Beneath short-cropped brown hair, grey-gold eyes looked back at him. Goosebumps prickled over her shoulders as a soft breeze blew between them. Timshel could feel the tip of his nose and mouth begin to go numb. She said something in the local language, nodding toward the sword and the hand on his lap. Timshel raised his eyebrows, lifting his hands above his head. He pushed off with his toes, moving his body into a squat, then stood up. Hands still raised, he moved over to Jas, who was still snorting and shaking her head in a fit. “Easy girl,” he said in Shiber, grabbing her reigns and rubbing her muzzle, “You can't be so high maintenance right now. We have guests.” The horse huffed but stood still. Turning back to the naked woman, he switched to common. “A kelvic, eh? I hope you speak common. I've had the pleasure of meeting one of you before,” he said, “Oddly enough, I fell off my horse back then too...” Timshel rubbed the back of his head again, gazing at the pup now, waiting for him to shift in another flash of light. He turned to the woman, smiling inwardly at his own attempt to keep eye contact. “You have something to wear?” he asked, while unclasping the brooch of his cloak.

[Isedan Autumnrun]

The woman shivered, teeth clicking and her arms now wrapping around her chest as she pressed her legs together. Her eyes flicked from man to horse to dog, drawn by the movements out of instinct. But it was his question that made her raise a brow.

Did she speak Common? Really? The figure turned eyes down to the pup who was now playing 'pawsies' with her bare foot. "Do I speak common he asks...is that not what I just spoke in? These silly horsemen do not seem interested in communicating in a civilized tongue and instead flail their hands about..." She shivered again and looked back up at the man. "Yes, mister, I speak common, and more fluently than most of these riders let alone their children." The thought of children made her shift uncomfortably, her hand wanting to press into that barely noticeable bump beneath her navel.

The lanky figure began to move now, clucking to the dog at her side. She strode towards the mount and heavily tanned human while the painteddog bounded around her feet as happy as ever, sometimes nipping at her heels, other times leaping ahead to bow before her in play. "And yes, I have clothes. I was not particularly interested in having my head lopped off because some idiot thought me good for the fur or I'd have waited to reach them." The explanation was simple enough, her gait as fluid and graceful as the long-legged cats had been.

Pausing near the horse, the kelvic turned to face him, uncrossing her arms then and clapping hands in front of her mouth as a warm breath was released. "What tongue was that you spoke? You did not flap your hands like the Drykas, are you not one of them?" It was a loaded question, the tenseness in her eyes waiting for if it was the right or wrong answer to be shared.

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[Timshel]

The woman's brow was furrowed now as she locked eyes with him. He raised his own. “Nope. I'm no Drykas, that's for sure, and I'm definitely not a mister either,” he said, tossing her his cloak, “Here you're shivering.” He shoved his hands into the pockets of his tunic and squeezed his elbows to his side. "I don't know how far back you left your clothes, so feel free to wear that for now-- if only for my sake.” He took in a deep breath. The woman before him was tall, only a couple inches shorter than him. The dog was bounding about her feet, creating a small winding trail of steam behind his wagging tongue. Timshel let his breath out, chuckling at the dog's playful zeal. “It was Shiber,” he said, “It's the Benshiran language." Timshel motioned towards his horse, "Jas here likes it. Reminds her of home... and did you just call me an idiot?” Timshel laughed and leaned against Jas, enjoying her warmth. Jas snorted and moved away, causing him to stumble and almost fall again. He ran his hand through wild, short-cropped hair as straightened up. “Ha..ha...The name's Timshel by the way,” he said, offering her his hand, “And you are...?” OOCI totally misinterpreted your last post, so sorry about that. And sorry about the wait as well!

[Isedan Autumnrun]

The woman caught the cloak as it was tossed to her and without argument wrapped it around herself, mutely grateful for the warmth of it. "It is cold and I am naked. Of course I am going to shiver." She replied with a bit of an eyeroll. But she found herself with tongue in cheek as he remarked that it was as much for his sake as for hers. "Oh, was that all? well, you can take that tent down, then." The wild gaze of the woman lowered and looked away, her neck warm though her face cool. "I am...spoken for." It was the closest descriptive she could find for whatever it was Cotice called her. Certainly not his wife, though others in the pavilion pretended that was what it was.

When the figure leaned on his horse, who subsequently shifted away at the same time, causing him to stumble, Issy found herself stopping a low 'hmhmhm' of amusement from escaping, though she was unable to hide the entertained smile at the corners of her lips.

"Well, Timshel, it is very nice to meet you and I am very glad you did not shoot me. This gathering of hai-spawn and honorless bastards is the lsat place I wish to die. I am Isedan." One of her hands emerged from the cloak and slid into his hand in return. Her palms and fingers lacked the roughness one might expect a kelvic to have on their feet and front paws, though the tips of her fingers had many a little knick in them, as though she'd been playing with needles and stuck herself too many times.

The wind pushed against one of the nearby tents, making it snap and flap in protest before settling. The wind carried the sound of the inner-tents to them, the sounds of life and work and busy people working hard. "So, Timshel, if you are not from Endrykas and are not Drykas, what brings you to this wretched place?" The venom of her words about this moving city did not well define the real nature of the establishment, only a single individuas experience.

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[Timshel]

"Oh, was that all? well, you can take that tent down, then." Timshel opened his mouth. Then closed it, grinning. She continued. “I am... spoken for." Timshel felt his footing slip. He saw only grass. He flinched and instinctively braced for impact, just before catching his feet. "Well, Timshel, it is very nice to meet you, and I am very glad you did not shoot me. This gathering of hai-spawn and honorsell bastards is the last place I wish to die. I am Isedan.” Mirroring her smile, Timshel took her hand. Isedan's. It was soft-- all except the tips. They were thickly padded, with nicks and cracks clustered throughout the pads. Her shake was sure. He let go when the wind picked up, listening to the breeze bring and wrap voices and echoes of laughter around them, then fade away, and move on to whistle through the tall blades of grass past them. “...what brings you to this wretched place?” Timshel paused at her words. “I came here voluntarily,” he said, “I'm from Eyktol, originally the burning lands. First I went to my father's city, Yahebah, and found a wonderful place. Kind of pathetic, though. Then I went to my mother's, Ahnatep, and found someplace glorious. But also a bit malevolent.” Timshel tilted his head, looking at the woman again. His blue irises narrowed as she came back into focus. “I came here because I was none of those things,” he said. “You're the second person I've met who doesn't want to be here,” he said, watching her, wondering if she was going to break down now. Looking closer now, her eyes would've seemed a fluorescent gold if not for what seemed like a fanciful gray film masking them, dusting them into a shimmering grey-gold cloud. “But you're different, I think. Do you know what you're going to do now?”