Earnings (Arlen)

[Denen Sunsinger]

Fall 70 The day had been a long one, and Denen's mood had turned somewhat melancholy as it progressed. He didn't suppose there was an actual reason for it, but he found himself feeling almost lonely now, and it left him too pensive and thoughtful for his own good. He wore a scarf around his hair today, and a plain, clean tunic that reached his calves, along with a pair of warm boots, as the weather was growing chillier. The sleeves of the tunic in question reached to his wrists and were loose. About his waist, he wore a wide, leather belt with horses etched into it. The belt had been a gift from his adopted mother on his birthday the year she died. It was precious to him. He stood quietly, slender fingers running along the belt buckle as he examined a pretty scarf on the table before him. It had been a long time since the boy bought anything, and he was rather partial to the deep, red color of the scarf and the fine material. But as he no longer lived with his family, he couldn't simply ask his father to buy it for him as he might have before. He had been given enough money to get by, but he didn't want to spend it. He sighed softly and furrowed his brows. Maybe if he saved up for that particular scarf... He reached up to touch the scarf that was wrapped about his soft, dark hair. It served its purpose well, and he supposed he couldn't complain about that. He didn't really need a new scarf anyway. It would just be something frivolous. Something he didn't need. Who was he going to show it off to, anyway? Aiken and Sam? His cheeks flushed at the thought. He wished his day had left him in a better mood. Stupid dog for stealing his lunch anyway. He had woken up on the wrong side of the bed, and the dog snatching away his lunch had just been the icing on the crappy cake. He huffed at the thought. It didn't help that his ears were hurting, too. Shaking his head, he walked away from the table, resolved that he didn't need the scarf, no matter how pretty, and chewed his lower lip. His eyes turned down a moment, and he gave a soft sigh. What a day.

[Arlen]

Carrying on from city entrance:

The night before :

69th of fall, 510AV

Civilisation.

It had been a few good days, hunting and rummaging in the sea of grass; a potent way of clearing his mind, and it seemed to have worked. Arlen was, however, also tired, and he felt his find drift back towards the comfort of his fellow Drykas and the shifting city.

Riding back, he decided he would pitch a tent near his clan folk, the hunters in this great grassland. It was a little unnerving at first, reintroducing himself, easing back into the spirit of community; but it was also fun, and he dearly enjoyed sharing and listening to stories from his fellow peers.

And truly, fall was here; the grasses seemed ever so duller, and winter seemed to be ever closer by the day. But, he was settled, and that night, he drifted off to a sound sleep, never had since he left the safety of his home, carried away into the night by the lull of the city.

He awoke, and it was not the sight of dawn, but the sight of his tent ceiling; white and clean, and oddly, he was missing the expanse already. Arlen did like the fact that he didn't have to worry about pack wolves or other more dangerous beasts at least; not that he ever had too much trouble. He wasn't impervious to the dangers of the grasslands, and kept a keen eye. Nonetheless, he was also grateful that he didn't have to, for the banding of many Drykas led to a group comfort no other way afforded; safety in numbers, indeed.

I wonder...

It had been a while since he'd been in Endrykas; half a season to say the least. But he decided to visit the markets, and often there the traders brought goods from foreign lands, the stalls ever shifting with different goods; it would be a good break from the nomadic life he had been having for a while now. He ate briefly, and found his way; it wasn't too hard, for the morning was still a little young and the rustling of wares only began. It was a different life, this, and he pondered for a brief moment the possibilities - and the drawbacks - it all entailed.

The smiles of those setting up stalls cheered him up; he liked the bustling warmth. Moving from shop to shop, he looked around and marveled with a child's wide-open eyes, as if guiltily eavesdropping upon a legend the elders told. Soon, it was closer to noon, and he felt a faintness in his stomach. It would be good to feast on a proper lunch, he concluded, and hurried along, briefly stopping at different purveyors of food, taking the time to let his mind choose upon the aromas.

A particular eatery hosting tables upon tables of fine roast caught his eye; and his eyes fixated whilst still walking. It was too late when he finally turned, and realised he was -

and with a thud, he tripped over a bucket of water, sending himself forwards, unintentionally knocking himself down, alongside a thin, tall, standing man. He managed to catch a glimpse of his dark hair before -

And he realised his body had flew forward, gyrated for a split second, then his right shoulder had piled against the man's chest.

With a deep groan, an apologetic "sorry, sir" broke out of his mouth in a single reflex, and he began to shuffle himself upwards.

Well, that was a great start.

[Denen Sunsinger]

Denen decided, while wandering, to make up a story to entertain himself. It was the sort of thing that would make him feel better. In his Pavilion, he would have made up some grand tale to tell his nieces and nephews, but here, away from the tents of his father and brothers and sisters, he was without children to tell stories to. He sometimes told Aiken's pups stories, but they didn't always appreciate it, and sometimes chewed on his boots. He needed the story to boost his own morale, however, so he began to tell it to himself in his head. Once, long ago, there was a very gifted healer, he began. He was not a very strong man, but he was a Drykas nonetheless. This healer, however, was deaf. Still, the gods guided his hands so that he could help those around him. He smiled to himself as he thought. It was a nice thought, that. To be sent here, even with a handicap like he had, to be able to help those around him. One day, during a mighty hunt, this healer watched as his friend was struck down by a lion. His friend was a great, powerful man, but even he fell before the lion. The healer carried with him the tools of the Opal clan, gifts sent from the divine. His desire for the pretty scarf was well forgotten as he walked along, oblivious to the impending shoulder. He smiled softly to himself, letting the tale play out in his mind. He came upon the body of his friend, and he saw then that the man was near death. He raised his voice to the gods above, pleading for their... In the next moment, however, a larger body was flying toward him, and he found himself forced quickly and clumsily off of his feet. He would have cried out in surprise, but the air was knocked from his chest. His features twisted, and he landed rather brutally on his rump. The force was enough to make his eyes tear. He squeezed them shut, missing the other's apology, and opened them slowly to see him getting up. His body had been jarred from the fall, but he was otherwise unhurt. Slowly, he tried to pick himself up. He wanted to rub his backside, sure it was going to bruise, but managed to refrain. "Are...Are y-y-y-you all r-right?" He asked.

[Arlen]

Two hands feeling the hard gritty path, Arlen rolled to the side, releasing himself from the heap of sinews and bone. With a lift, he knelt on his left knee, feeling his world return to full focus. "I'm fine," he blurted. He smiled sheepishly as he realised he was the one who used the man as a cushion for his fall.

"Honestly. By the goddess, are you... alright?" he continued, taking a closer look as he stood. His eyes scanned the man's body up and down, seeing the stranger was far more hurt than he was. Their gazes then locked for a split second, perhaps a second too long, and felt himself biting his lower lip. Only then did he find that the man was wincing as he asked if he was alright.

"So..."

A chuckle came as he turned his face, smiling out of embarrassment, figuring that he was out of words. Partly because he was out of breath, the wind in his lungs taken by the fall; yet partly...

His smirk became a boyish grin whilst extending his palm to the stranger, raising an eyebrow as he did so. "Name's Arlen," the two words rolled out of his mouth, "...looks like you need a bit of help there." As the sentence trailed off, his colour returned from the suddenness of falling. It was then that his stomach let out a low, wolfish growl. It was simply comical, and he couldn't help but break out in a fit of laughter.

"My bad. First day back in Endrykas. Let me buy you lunch to make up for this, at least."

His smile grew, almost radiating.

[Denen Sunsinger]

Denen dusted off his palms on the rough fabric of his tunic. He had managed to get some tiny rocks and dirt embedded in his palms from his fall, and he tried now to get them out. His soft features were marked with concentrated, and his brow tensed as the only sign that he was in a bit of pain. It wasn't much, but enough to make him wince a little. He adjusted his headscarf, as it had fallen forward a bit with the motion of his body dropping. His features were twisted slightly, but he forced them to their regular position and looked up to the man kneeling before him. His hand came to rest against his chest where it had been struck, and he nodded slowly. "I-I-I'm fine," he assured, a bit breathlessly, though he was clearly quite winded. His cheeks went pink as the other spoke, and he flashed a quick, shy smile. He got onto his hands and knees then, loose hair falling across his face as he did so, and slowly forced himself to his feet, having accepted the offered hand with his own, soft one. Slender fingers curled about the other's palm, and he used the leverage to hoist his body up. His lithe frame protested, still tense from the fall, and he dusted himself off again. The other smiled a lot, something that Denen liked. His own smile was shy, curious. He could see the laughter, and it was comforting. He pushed the hair out of his eyes. "I'm D-Denen," he answered. "Thank...y-you." He didn't hear the rumbling of the other's stomach, his remaining senses not attuned to such things, but he smiled as he laughed. Even as he found himself easing in the stranger's company, he was offered lunch to make up for the accident, and his own hunger was remembered. He played with his hair a moment, and then nodded. "All r-r-r-right. That sounds n-nice." He was quiet a moment, before he spoke again. "W-W-What is y-your clan, Arlen?"

[Arlen]

Catching the man's soft hands, it was clear that he was not a hunter.

A scholar, perhaps? But they were rare around these parts. Bottles of ink, bundles of quill and stacks of parchment were certainly not the easiest to move around. Drykas scholars were few and sparse, and those who dedicated themselves to passing oral and written knowledge quickly joined the ranks of clan elder. He proceeded to shake off the thoughts off in his mind though, feeling that sifting through the myriad guesses would be soon beyond him. He still felt as if he was still waking from the misty haze of slumber, and the fall certainly didn't make his body feel any sharper. Seeing Denen dust his clothes, he decided to flick as much dirt off as he could. Soon, though, he realised it was a futile attempt, and promptly gave up.

He gently sighed a sigh of relief as it seemed that Denen was more at ease now. His leanness surprised him a little, and Arlen was still unsure of his occupation. Nonetheless he was not bothered by it. Endearment permeated Denen's curious smiles, and he felt a sense of familiarity already being kindled.

So he lifted his right arm lazily, the thin gold bracelet snugly resting on his wrist, bouncing off the light of the sun. The engraved gem was a green of deep brilliance, the colour of his clan. "Emerald." He grinned again, though his father's sarcastic words filtered into his head, reminding him that he was hardly the best hunter within his peer group. "And you?" He waved his right hand, beckoning Denen to follow.

"Come with me, there's a stall serving roast not too far away from here..."

Leading the way, and having felt the satisfaction of being hospitable already, his hunger seemed to lessen. He turned as he walked, flashing a gentle smile at Denen as they approached. It wasn't too long before he found them a vacant table, sat, and signaled the waiter to bring two meals.

"Say," he began softly, "what brought you here?"

[Denen Sunsinger]

Denen gave a meek smile. He didn't want to move his hand away from Arlen's, as the other's felt significantly stronger than his own, but he knew it wouldn't exactly be appropriate to let his own stay there. As such, he allowed his own hand to drop, giving a soft smile and tucking his hair back behind his ear. He was hardly a scholar. He loved learning, yes, but his heart was in healing. He adjusted his belt trying to bring his appearance back together again. Having a fall made him feel all disgruntled, though his appearance wasn't nearly as mussed as he had convinced himself it was. He made sure to keep his eyes on Arlen's lips, just in case he spoke. He didn't want to be rude and miss anything. He hated when that happened, as people were often exasperated when they had to explain things to him again. Another, shy smile was given. Arlen seemed warm, and it was easy to smile at him. Denen lacked the strength of many other clans. He was small for even his own Pavilion, something that had often worried and irritated his father. As if his being deaf wasn't enough. Still, Stone had been pleased with his son's dedication to the practice, and had left it at that. He placed his hopes in Denen one day being a very gifted healer. He trotted after Arlen, needed to keep up so that he could read the other's lips and know what was being said to him. "O-Opal," he answered. He was proud of his clan, and of his Pavilion, despite being on the outskirts of his family. He loved them all. He lifted his eyes to meet Arlen's for a moment, before he hurried after him. This, he supposed, would make up for his stolen meal earlier. He tried not to blush when Arlen smiled at him, but it was difficult to not do so. His face flushed and he nervously brushed his hair out of his eyes, where it always seemed to hang. Oh, heavens above, why was he being so ridiculous? "I...I was looking at a s-s-scarf," he informed. "B-But I don't...I don't think I sh-should buy it. W-What about you? You s-said you...you w-were just ret-turning."

[Arlen]

The waiter brought them their meals, and without a sliver of doubt Arlen began on the hot roast. He was rather hungry after all this pacing restlessly about the markets, peering at all the exotic trinkets he found pleasing to the eye. Never second-guess your stomach was something he literally lived by, especially in the Sea of Grass.

He nodded slowly upon hearing Denen's clan, slowly took in that he was a healer over a mouthful of meat, and downed a a gulp of water, careful to make sure he didn't seem impolite in front of his guest. Men of the Opal clan were often said not only to be good healers, but also fiercely loyal companions, he had once been told.

But for now, was in civilised company, and at the very least the expected ways of eating changed dramatically. He was thankful that he hadn't been away alone for that long, as he was sure to himself he would have started forgetting simple etiquette altogether. "You make a graceful healer," Arlen began slowly, hoping not to startle Denen, "and you seemed well learned at that."

While Arlen was not a hunter particular to fine clothing, he did understand the meaning of it to many of the more refined members of Endrykas. "Well, winter is coming and I'm sure it would not be a poor idea. Well, you must show me. I..." he trailed off, looking at his own tattered blue tunic, "could certainly do with some new clothes too. I have been pursuing a bit of peace on the great grasslands, and that probably shows!" He broke into a loud, hearty chuckle, and his eyes softened affectionately whilst looking upon Denen's. It had been some time since Arlen had company, and he dearly appreciated it.

It was also at that moment he realised the man had a stutter, and he was curious as to why. He paused for a moment, considering how he would go about this, for such things were matters close to the heart. Denen also did seem shy, and Arlen didn't want to rush a potential friendship at all. "...and may I ask, if you don't mind...how your stutter came to be?"

He sure hoped to the goddess that his curiosity didn't get the better of him.

[Denen Sunsinger]

Denen breathed in the scent of food gratefully. There was food back at his tent, but this was a nice meal he didn't have to cook himself. It was nice, too, to eat out sometimes. He hadn't really done it a lot before. He began to eat, taking slow bites to savor what had been placed before him. The roast in question was delicious. He closed his eyes for only a moment to savor the rich taste. Jada had made roasts like this. What Arlen had heard was true, at least for Denen. He did not have many friends, but those he did have could testify to his loyalty. He would give or do anything for his friends. Denen's heart was big, and he hated seeing hurt come to those he loved. What he hated most, however, were stories of past pains. Those touched and broke his heart even more, as he could do nothing about them. At the compliment, his cheeks turned a brilliant shade of red, and he laughed shyly. "Y-You are too k-k-kind. I'm afraid...I'm t-terribly clumsy. I trip over m-my...my own feet all the time." It was true, to. He was exceptionally clumsy. He just managed to hide it better than most. He played with his sleeve, his shy smile marking his features. "B-But th-th-thank you." He couldn't help but laugh his strange laugh as Arlen spoke. It wasn't really a sound, but more like a shuddering that shook his entire body, with the occasional, huffing croak that rose from air being forced through his vocal cords. "W-Well, I already...I already h-have a sc-sc-scarf." He reached up to touch the one wound about his head as an example. "B-B-But I would be happy to show you." His smile widened. Genuine. Sincere. "I...I c-could probably try and h-help you patch that one, too. I'm g-g-g-good with seams." He blushed and looked down a moment, tucking his dark hair behind his ear. The question caused him to smile softly, and he poked at his food absently for a moment. "W-When I was...little, I got h-h-h-horrible ear infections. I lost m-m-my...my hearing when I was f-four. It...It m-makes it hard to talk." He wasn't embarrassed by this. It was just a fact of who he was. He hoped, however, that it didn't bother Arlen. It was difficult for some to understand. "It...It d-d-doesn't bother you, d-does it?"

[Mixcoatl]

The Lord of the Hunt is Pleased! The Lord of the Hunt showers you with gifts in joyous celebration! Denenenenen Experience +1 Storytelling Lore Feeling Alone Stuttering Eating Ettiquitte Arlen Experience None Lore Feeling Secure Making Guesses Eating Ettiquitte Denen's Deafness Additional Notes: Shame Arlen poofed. I miss him. PM me with any questions, comments, or concerns!