Completed Not-So-Alone Time (Marrin)

[Azira]

   

23rd Fall 513AV-18th Bell

Hunting had been wet. Actually wet was an understatement. It was as if all the water in the heavens had just fallen wherever the huntress was, turning the ground beneath her feet into a treacherous mire. She came back mud splattered, her hair dark and dripping with water, and only one measly hate to show for it. Needless to say she wasn't pleased. 

The first thing Azira did was go to the baths to scrape off the mud and get some warmth back into her blue-tinged flesh. With that done, she dressed in warm, dry clothing, her braids hanging loose, and made her way to the Enclave. She didn't feel like spending the evening in there right now so she thought she'd borrow a book and read it in peace in her room after dinner.

The Avora perused the shelves, trying to decide between a fictional book or a book on hunting. As enjoyable as a fiction was, it was probably a good idea to do some reading up on some new hunting techniques, maybe trapping, considering how hard it was getting to bring home game. 

Hunting it is then, she thought, moving to that section and pulling a book on trapping from the shelves. Flicking through it, she found that it was written in Common, obviously an addition to the library from a foreign visitor. Although it wasn't very specific to Wind Reach or even Kalea, the huntress reasoned that it would still have useful techniques in it.

After going through the motions to check out her trapping book, Azira made her way down to the Kitchens. She kept her head down as she passed some of the Endal, not wanting to attract their attention again after the last time, and went and sat at a small table with a bowl of soup and a haunch of meat. A taste of the soup showed it to be too hot, so the girl left it for a few moments and propped her book open at a random point and began to read.

A passage about trapping pits grasped her attention and her brow wrinkled in concentration as she tried to translate it. It seemed to have something to do with digging a pit for an animal to fall into. Azira began to eat her soup as she read about how such traps could be used for catching big game like elk and moose. 

The huntress was so wrapped up in reading and eating that she didn't take any notice of what was going on around her.

x

[Marrin]

It had been a long and fruitless day. He’d spent most of it hunting, going out to one of the closest Forward Camps just off the mountain, skimming the ridges in search of any reasonable trapping areas. He’d set snares wherever he’d thought useful, but it quickly became apparent that the frost that had ended only two days before had put a great number of creatures into survival mode. They were more wary than usual, and even the most common spots had turned out empty. Nothing even touched his bait. As such, a hot meal was exactly what the boy needed. He’d gone out in his warmest, the cold Talderan winds still receding, and had to get used to moving with warm gloves and his tightly-wrapped scarf once more. The wound on his shoulder was healing nicely, and while it still ached from time to time the permanent damage was all aesthetic. So when he swaggered into the Kitchen in search of something warm, a number of Yasi turned their heads. The scar was wicked, clean and straight but wide as if it was made by a blade far larger than a hunting knife. As the scar was still fresh it held a light salmon tone, though the light bruising around it helped draw ones attention. Since receiving the blow Marrin had made a mission out of finding the girl who had done this to him, Azira, in hopes of making a new start. Thinking back, they way he’d treated her was horrid, and he felt miserable about it. He only remembered snippets of their conversation after being cut, more of his attention being drawn to the pain and the effects of blood loss than his moral standing with her. None the less, he wished to make things right between them. He hadn’t seen her since and he would not allow any bad blood stand between him and a potential ally. Those were in short supply in Wind Reach, especially for those of mixed heritage. He’d seen something in her when they’d fought, a fire in her eyes that he couldn’t deny. It called to him somehow, drawing him in as if to warm the ice at his core. And beyond their oppositional compatibility, her beauty was indubitable. He was drawn to her in an oddly primal way…that of hunter and prey. What excited him most was that he wasn’t entirely sure where he stood in that particular analogy. Scooping up a bowl of soup for himself, he spun and began to leave the area. Pushing past inquiring young ones, scoffing Endal and more elite hunters, he made his way to the exit, hoping to eat in the peace of the evening. Just as his hand brushed the door handle to leave the common room, something caught his eye; the back of an oddly familiar head, long strands of red hair burning like embers in the low firelight. She sat alone at a small table, scanning a book she no doubt had acquired earlier in the day. As he got closer he saw diagrams of pit traps, a trapping strategy used to capture large game. He made a note to himself to try what the drawings illustrated to the best of his memory next time he was out hunting. He’d have to acquire a shovel or spade of some sort, and a net strong enough to hold the game, but after his seasonal pay that shouldn’t be too much of an issue. He did his best to make himself known as he swung close to the table, trying not to startle her as he had last time. He remembered how much she disliked being startled…or was it she disliked missing her shots? He could only barely remember, but as she did not wield a bow at the moment he thought it best to stay on the safe side. Just in case she had yet to notice him, he cleared his throat softly and put his hand on the back of the chair across the table from her. ”Would you mind if I join you for a meal?” He did his best to be polite, but had a bad feeling she might take his interest in her poorly. She seemed the type to get offended easily, paranoid and constantly on guard. He could feel that he’d have to restrain the Inarta in his blood if he was going to get anywhere with the fiery beauty, displaying only the upmost levels of respect and understanding. If he played his cards right he may get a new start. All he wanted was for this to end well.

[Azira]

   

She'd been totally oblivious until the cough. Her eyes flickered up and she froze in the middle of eating. Where had he come from? Why was he coming to sit with her? Her eyes automatically moved to his shoulder, noting the scar that was forming there and the bruising surrounding it. The sight of it caused feelings of guilt and annoyance to rise up inside her. Guilt because of what she'd done and annoyance because he'd brought the guilt to light. 

The huntress was very tempted to tell him to go away. She didn't want him near her, not really and she had a feeling that she'd only lash out at him again. Perhaps he was over here on purpose to try to end the animosity between them but she didn't think that it'd work out very well for either of them.

She shrugged. "Sit if you want," she told him, her eyes returning to her book. Just because he was there didn't mean that she had to acknowledge him. So Azira tried to get back into the piece on trapping pits but she was distracted. Her eyes had skimmed the same sentence thrice already and she still didn't know what it said. Annoyed, she looked up at him again.

"Did you want something?" she asked coolly. Her eyes immediately moved to his shoulder again and she had to force her eyes back to his face. There was no way that the Avora could have him sit here without seeing that every time she looked up. It looked bad. He was going to bear that scar for the rest of his life all because of her quick anger; it wasn't fair. She never would have guessed that her knife was that sharp!

x

[Marrin]

When she finally noticed him, it wasn’t HIM that she saw, but the scar she’d given him. He suddenly wondered if he should have resumed the topless style he so commonly conformed to, it being as popular as it was in Wind Reach. Her eyes lingered on it, more drawn to it than his face. He took the time to draw her in as she stared back, inspecting every detail she had to offer to him. Her hair blazed like an inferno despite her stillness, the soft flickering candlelight making each strand twist and writhe with heated power. It had yet to dry completely, slightly damp and heavy, only lending further to its glossy sheen. Her eyes were gold, a very prominent feature on her face he’d somehow managed to miss in their previous encounter. He wasn’t sure how, their amber glow one of the most remarkable features about her. He remembered something, an echo from long ago, that reminded him that gold eyes were a sign of a past life as a Wind Eagle. It made him smile, contemplating and comparing her temperament to that of those lofty and proud eagles. The comparison was not a difficult one; the similarities plentiful. Her nose was thin and turned up ever so slightly, gliding down from her eyebrows like the deltas of Kenash. Below that her full pink lips were parsed, as if she was considering something or deep in thought. Whatever is was she was contemplating, it seemed unpleasant to her. Her expression changed drastically in a mere moment as she seemed to gather herself up, displaying only neutrality. She shrugged, impassive, barking a quick ”Sit if you want,” before returning her eyes to her book. Marrin wasn’t entirely sure what to think about her sudden reaction, the change of her entire posturing and expressions. The mixed messages gave him a headache. Why can’t people just say what they mean? …wait…I beat around the bush all the time. He let out an internal groan at his hypocrisy. None the less, she had given him permission to sit, and he was not about to give up the opportunity to make things right with the golden-eyed beauty. He pulled the chair back, doing his best to keep it from scraping the stone floors and making the scraping wood on stone sound he himself found to be the very embodiment of irritation. No doubt it would only be more frustrating when one was attempting to occupy themselves with reading, a task Marrin already considered arduous. He wondered for a moment who’d set her to it. He couldn’t think of anyone who’d have that level of power over her, unless she’d angered an Endal and their punishment was to read a book. Seemed an odd punishment, and something even the most creative of Endal wouldn’t come up with. After a moment, he came to the conclusion that she must be reading for either fun or as a method of self improvement. He’d seen the book was nonfiction, exploring hunting and trapping methods. However, he much preferred the more inventive approach, trying new things and refining them to come up with a new and interesting thing that worked for him. Sure, it wasn’t tried and true, wasted a lot of time and probably cost him a solid number of quarries… but it’s so much fun! he argued with himself, slipping quietly into the chair and pulling it in to make a place for him at the table. He sat in silence for a moment, contemplating what he should do next. Should he start a conversation? That might end badly. She was already busy, and he remembered all too well how the last time he had interrupted her had gone. However he couldn’t just leave the situation where it lay. He’d come on a mission! He had to make things right…but by the gods he was hungry. His stomach growled, gnawing at his insides like a ravenous beast, and the steaming soup in front of him called to him. He glanced at it, then to Azira, then to the soup before deciding that if she was to remain busy, he could at least eat a little bit. Just as he was pushing the spoon to his lips, she startled him with her speech. He wasn’t expecting her to speak so soon, thinking her engrossed in whatever literature she’d chosen for the evening. His body jerked forward, taking the entire spoonful of hot soup into his mouth at once. He hadn’t had a chance to cool it with his breath. For a moment he merely sat, his icy blue eyes staring back at hers, his mouth aflame. He began to sweat lightly, his face growing damp as it tried to cool him. He could feel his tongue slowly being cooked, the meal far too hot to be inside him at the moment. However, his pride stood before all at this point as the only thing keeping the situation afloat. If he began quickly mouth breathing he’d look like an idiot and spitting it out was certainly not an option. Keeping it on his tongue much longer may cause tears to well in his eyes, so he did the only thing he could think to do. He swallowed it. One often underestimates how much heat can be sustained within such a small portion of the body. As the lava-like stew slid down his gullet, he must have looked an utter fool. Eyes wide in terror and pain, jaw set and locked, he simply stared back at her as if he had forgotten how to speak. His heart was beginning to burn, his internal heat far higher than it likely should be. He felt the sudden urge to fold in on himself, gasping and pounding his chest until the tightness around his heart subsided. Yet he sat, frozen in place, with a highly uncomfortable look on his face. Finally, he managed to speak. ”I was…actually hoping we could…talk.” His words were airy and strained, as if he lie on his death bed with pneumonia. He grasped his leg, hoping that having something other than his clenching heart to focus on would help him look less of a jester in the presence of one of the few people he actually wanted to impress.

[Azira]

   

It wasn't surprising that she'd found it so hard to read, she was feeling amazingly self-conscious. The way he'd been looking at her before, the way he seemed to be trying to burn her features into his memory, made her extremely uneasy. It was a level of attention far more intense than what she was used to. Besides usually when men looked at her they didn't spend that much time gazing at her face. The huntress had felt sure that those probing eyes were still on her, analysing her as she tried to read and it was a wonder that she hadn't begun to squirm under the imagined gaze. Her annoyance at such scrutiny had come out in her voice when she asked him what he wanted though.

Her words had made him freeze. Well, he'd frozen at the exact moment that he shoved soup in his mouth. He'd clearly only just picked up the spoonful of the hot liquid and had just shoved it in. Whether he'd done it out of shock or if he'd done it intentionally, she didn't know but the teen did know that the liquid was bloody hot, hot enough to burn his mouth surely.

Sure enough his skin took on a sheen that suggested that he was sweating from the sudden heat. His face had begun to go red but he wasn't doing a thing except staring at her. Did he not have something more pressing to see to than staring at her like that? It was amazingly disconcerting especially as he must have been in agony. The Avora shook her head in disgust. He was going to be a typical man and pretend that he wasn't bothered by something that he so obviously was. Well let him deal with the consequences. 

The girl watched with amusement, leaning back leisurely as she watched the show. She could see the pain in his eyes though he was doing his best to keep what was happening to him from his face. While his self control was admirable, it was still hilarious to see where his stubborn determination to not look a fool had got him. He couldn't have looked more foolish in that moment that was for sure. 

A small, sadistic smile played across her lips as she watched him struggle. It was amazingly difficult not to laugh at him. Maybe she should just allow herself to, maybe he'd realise what an idiot he was and doing something else stupid to entertain her. But his gaze stopped her from laughing at him. He was still looking at her, staring at her in fact with the same intensity as before. Maybe she could slap him for his lecherous gaze and make him think twice before he looked at her again like that.

When he spoke she snorted with laughter, more at his words than his tone though his tone clearly showed how raw his throat was. Good. But his words and the expression in his eyes didn't quite match up. His words said he wanted to talk, his eyes said he wanted something entirely different. The huntress didn't like it one bit.

"You want to talk, do you?" she asked him, her tone conveying exactly what she thought of his desire to "talk". "And why would I want to talk to you? Am I suppose to feel sorry for you because of that little scar on your shoulder? The one I gave you, remember? Well maybe I don't want to talk to you, how about that?" Her tone surprised her. Her voice was so full of disdain and dislike that she hardly recognised her. She allowed her eyes to bore into his as she waited for an answer deciding that two could play at that game.

x

[Marrin]

She snorted in laughter as he spoke, no doubt at how idiotic he must look. He was swallowing repetitively, trying to get the burn out of his throat so he could speak properly. It seemed to help, but not enough. It still felt raw and he was sure he could taste blood faintly behind his lips. He always seemed to get himself hurt around the girl, something he noticed with odd, morbid curiosity. Why is that, I wonder? When she spoke in turn, his heart sank, abandoning the clenching and twisting in favor of a feeling even more uncomfortable. In his foolishness he’s soiled his first opportunity to make a good second impression; gods knew his first wasn’t good enough. He stopped clenching his leg, breaking away from her gaze to look into his lap instead. He was hurt, though not as deeply as before, and more disappointed in himself that in her reaction. He could have expected as much, the fiery temper she had and his odd ability to do all the wrong things when she was around. He cleared his throat again, taking away the final barriers to normal speech the magma stew had created. He opened his mouth, ready to speak, before realizing he wasn’t entirely sure what to say. How can I salvage something going so wrong so early? He relaxed and rolled his jaw, trying to stimulate his senses. After a moment he decided he’d simply let his words flow, little or no thought given to them before they came to pass. It was dangerous, but he felt it would be better than sulking or carefully constructing insults to wound her as he had last time. He had to be a better man today. ”I’m not surprised that you don’t want to speak with me. I would truly be surprised if you did, considering our previous interaction. But no, I do not want your pity or your sympathy or any such emotions. What happened wasn’t your fault and I take full responsibility, so there is nobody to blame but I.” He still hadn’t reconnected to her gaze, flicking up from time to time to meet them but never lingering long. He sensed it made her uncomfortable, and decided to allow her one of the few comforts he could provide in his current state. ”What I do hope is that, well, we can put previous assumptions aside for a moment. Something you said to me during our first meeting got to me… you reminded me that I didn’t know you. And you were right! I was hasty to judge you so quickly without speaking to you before, and I want to make it right as best I can.” With that he finally looked up to meet her eyes, extending a hand forward in greeting. ”My name is Marrin. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” And he meant it. Nobody but Azira had managed to elicit so much raw emotion from him as she had during their previous encounter. It made him curious and concerned, but above all he was happy. He wanted to get to know her, to make things right with her and to make a friend out of this mess of a situation.

[Azira]

   

It was amazing how much better she felt the very instant that he finally looked away from her. When he wasn't looking at her like that anymore she wasn't on the defensive again so the huntress felt less inclined to bite his head off. He looked hurt that she didn't want to talk to him as if the idea of it had been something very important for him. He was certainly a strange young man that was for sure.

He cleared his throat and Azira watched him expectantly but his mouth just opened soundlessly, totally lost for words. The girl cocked her head to the side trying to work out what he was thinking as his mouth gaped open and then shut, his brows creasing slightly in thought as if he was trying to work out what to say to her. How very strange. He was genuinely worried about offending her again, wasn't he? 

When he finally began to speak, the teen was surprised by the sheer volume of speech coming from the younger hunter. He just talked rapidly, hardly stopping to take a breath, everything said in a rush as if he wasn't sure of he could say this if he paused. 

He seemed to think that the whole thing was entirely his fault. Although he'd provoked her she'd been the one to overreact, to blow things out of proportion. She'd been the one to throw insults at him all because he'd injured her pride which wasn't exactly fair. Also she had been the one to knife him, her eyes darting to the scar at his shoulder as she thought about it.

The hunter seemed careful not to meet her gaze while he talked whether because he'd finally realised how uncomfortable his staring was making her, or because he just couldn't bring himself to look at her, she didn't know. The Avora had no way of telling which of those things it was or whether it was something else entirely different that she couldn't guess at.

When his gaze met hers again, the piercing blue eyes seemed to make a jolt go through her. How could anyone's eyes be that colour? They were truly ice blue but she couldn't be sure if the person behind them was anywhere near as cold. She bit her lip for a brief moment before rolling her eyes and extending her hand to take his. The contact only lasted for brief ticks but it was enough to make her uncomfortable.

"Azira," she sighed, dropping her hand from his an instant later. "So now that your little formalities are over, what do you have to say for yourself?" she asked, cocking her head to the side again as she regarded him. After a moment she went back to her dinner, the soup beginning to grow cold at this stage. "You ought to eat that soup while it's hot by the way," she added, her eyes dancing with amusement and one corner of her mouth twitching upwards ever so slightly as she brought her own spoon to her mouth.

x

[Marrin]

Marrin smiled as she let go of his hand, the same insane grin that had gotten him in trouble so many times before. She’d accepted his words, and seemed to have calmed considerably. It was the first time he could remember where she wasn’t spitting unfriendly words his way, and he rather liked the sound of her voice. It was quick, to the point and far from soothing but had the passion and fire to inspire action in it. A voice Ivak would be proud of. ”Well…for starters, I’d like to apologize. I doubt it’s what you want to hear, but I want to make sure you know that I’m sorry for what happened before. I want to know if there’s any way to dispel the bad blood between us.” He shook his head, shaking off the stupid grin to something more acceptable. A small smirk touched the left corner of his lips, giving him the appearance of one who had mischievous plans. One look at his eyes plainly showed that it was not the case. He snorted with laughter when she mentioned the soup, remembering how just a moment ago it had caused him to look like an utter fool. ”Of course,” he chuckled, taking a spoonful now that it was no longer steaming. His tongue tested it, going over the ridges of the fine glass spoon. It was still warm but was cooling quickly, an assortment of chopped wild onions and root vegetables with a meat he could only guess was venison. He slipped the spoon into his mouth, going over the intricacies of the flavors individually, trying to pinpoint the ingredients and spices the chef used. The broth was beef, that much was certain. The meat was actually elk, it seemed, as it was too flavorful to be venison yet too tender to be moose. There was salt in it, a little too much for Marrins palette, though the potatoes soaked a bit of it out of the broth. There was something slightly spicy, something he couldn’t entirely identify that he hadn’t encountered before. It was subtle, hiding amongst the more powerful flavors of the stew. No doubt the way his tongue had been burned previously interfered with his sense of taste, but he still thought himself accurate enough to identify most of the more powerful influences on the flavor. He swallowed, bringing his attention back to the woman who sat on the other side of the table. ”In truth, how I’d like this to end… well, I’d like us to be friends, Azira. I like you, and I want to get to know you. And I’ll pledge allegiance to Rhysol before I snap at you again, I swear.” He put his hands up, as if submitting to some odd force Azira represented to him, tossing around the names of gods as if they meant nothing at all.

[Azira]

   

As she let go of his hand, his face split into a grin. It reminded Azira of the gleeful look of a child who had gotten its own way. The huntress wasn't at all sure what to make of that so she watched him warily as she ate her soup. The soup was quickly beginning to occupy more of her attention however; she was starving.

While he talked, the teen only half-listened, shoving spoonful after spoonful of soup into her mouth, hardly tasting it. The flavour of the soup never interested her much, all she cared about was the fact that it helped to make her full. Marrin on the other hand seemed to eat slowly, savouring a spoonful of it as she watched. The time it took him to eat one spoonful brought her to the end of her bowl. 

Pushing it aside, the girl picked up her book, a look of disappointment on her face before she put it away in her pack. While her hands were briefly occupied, she listened more intently to the end of his speech and then began to really think about his words. She wasn't going to say anything before first considering it carefully.

He'd apologised once more but the girl considered that most of the blame was on her. While he had angered her, he hadn't done it intentionally and then when he wasn't willing to stand his ground and let her get rid of her rage, she'd purposefully provoked him. Anything he'd said to hurt her, she'd asked for. However just because her actions had instigated the insults didn't mean that she was unhurt by them. Marrin's words had really hit home, probably because he'd been so close to the mark. 

Telling her that she couldn't shoot had been a particularly nasty comment, something he couldn't have known would hurt her so much. She'd always been so proud about her ability to shoot, had even bragged about it but it was also vital to her position. She figured that the comment was partly to blame, along with her defeat to Erade, in her inability to shoot just prior to the ice storm. If hadn't been for Kovac's faith in her, she'd probably be a Dek right now. Calling her a hypocrite had stung as well. Properly thinking about it now, she wasn't sure if his words were something that she could forget.

What else had he said to her? Was it even worth dredging it back up, even of it was only in her head? No, probably not. It'd only fuel a dislike towards him, a dislike that he was trying to extinguish. He wanted to erase the past and she wanted to live in it. Feeling a bit dazed by her revelation, the teen picked up her haunch of meat and inspected it critically. At first glance, it appeared to be a rabbit but that wasn't quite right but it was too small for a hare, an adult one anyway. She concluded that it was a young hare and bit into it.

"You called me brainless, you know," she told Marrin, her tone monotonous as she dragged out the memory. "Well, more or less anyway." Tearing a chunk of meat off with her teeth, Azira chewed it slowly and swallowed it before smiling sweetly at him. It didn't reach her eyes. 

"Just so we understand each other, if you ever insult me again, even in anger, whether it be about my intelligence or my shooting, or anything at all, friend or no friend, you will feel my knife again. You might recall that it's sharp. You might also like to remember that if you do insult me, I'll be aiming considerably lower than your shoulder and you end up missing something. I think as a man you'd feel the loss quite keenly, wouldn't you? Understand?" The entire time she'd been threatening him, she'd still been smiling at him, her voice one of false cheerfulness but the threat was there.

"Just so we understand each other," the huntress repeated in a whisper, her face relaxing once more as she continued eating her hair.

x

[Marrin]

Marrin’s smile slowly sunk as he listened to the girl before him speak. Her threats were not veiled, instead dusted with cinnamon and powdered sugar that did nothing to disguise their nature at all. He contemplated for a moment if she truly did hate him. He couldn’t really blame her if she did, could he? He’d done wrong by her, without provocation, and the situation had ended in disaster. For a moment he’d thought he was beginning to gain a spot for himself with her, a place of neutrality where they could speak sensibly and at ease. This, apparently, was far from the truth, and that disappointed the boy more than anything else about the situation at hand. He started feeling helpless, as if there was no way out of this emotional crag he’d so eloquently fit himself into. On one hand, he’d made a fine mess of every opportunity he’d had with the girl, and perhaps the best thing to do would be to walk away and give up. Of course, he had no intention of doing that, whether it was best or not. When he held in the other hand was greater still, holding much more weight in his mind. Two words that carried tons of weight in his mind. Coward. Pathetic. He could not back down, he would not allow her to be right about him. He wouldn’t let him be right about himself. He stared down into his soup, prodding the various floating bits of meat and greens as they bobbed about without aim. ”I wouldn’t expect anything different,” was his curt reply. In truth he thought the idea harsh, beyond harsh, even, and into the realms of sadism and cruelty. Castration as punishment for unkind words? What sort of world was this, where this sort of behavior could be talked about so blatantly without any repercussions? She was trying to bully him into a corner, so she could control him through intimidation. He could not and would not allow that. Summoning his courage, he drew his hunting knife from its place at his hip, slamming its point into the battle scarred wooden table. He let go of it, the vibrations causing it to wobble as it protruded from the worn table top. ”But it would be unkind of me not to warn you that my blade is just as sharp as yours. I hope you understand that the circumstances expand to you as well. I hear a detrimental note escape your lips in my direction and you may find yourself a few fingers down on your shooting hand.” He grabbed the handle, yanking it from the table and slipping it back into his belt. ”I hope I’ve made myself equally clear.” The entire time he spoke, his eyes had been locked with hers once more, all kindness and warmth gone from them, leaving only the glacial blue abyss to stare into. He hadn’t let his eyes flick from hers for an instant, from when he drew his blade to putting it back in its place. He’d had to be careful as to not jab himself with the point, but it made its way home all the same. His voice carried with it the agony of frostbite, showing no sign of the false and deceiving warmth she had laced her words with and in her smile. He was unsure if he could truly do such a thing, but it did not show in his speech. He wanted her to know he was serious. That he could back up his words with action should the necessity show itself. And just as soon as the darkness had come, it was gone, and Marrin had returned to eating his stew. It was merely lukewarm now, and the meat beginning to toughen with the incoming chill. The fat had began to congeal at the top, rimming the bowl and sticking to the spoon wherever they touched. He sat in silence, waiting for Azira’s reply, slowly spooning the broth and soup makeup into his mouth as if he had not a care in the world.