Brandon Blackwing's Day Off

by **Zhol** on March 13th, 2015, 7:30 pm

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..27th Spring, 515

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Zhol was tired. Not physically tired: it was still early in the day, and his duties at the stables had hardly been arduous so far. It wasn't even his mind that was tired either; it was his eyes, eager to be closed, but not permitted to do so.

It was his own fault of course, and he didn't begrudge it in the slightest. Things had been developing between he and Khara, and while they were still a long way from reaching the full kind of intimacy that parts of him were hoping for, each milestone they reached was a wonderful new experience for him, and he savoured each and every moment of it. To anyone else, last night might have seemed like nothing at all, but for him, a night spent with Khara's bare warmth pressed against him demanded every ounce of his attention; he had lain awake far too long, trying to preserve every intricate detail in his memory.

Still, while the experience had left him wondrously warm and happy inside, the tiredness clawing at the back of his eyes had scuffed his nerves a little raw. Right now he'd give anything to abandon work and crawl back into bed with his love; having her tear herself from his arms this morning had been even more agonising than ever.

"Don't you dare," he threatened, glaring at Bucky - his least favourite resident of the stables. Even at the best of times, he was a stubborn and disagreeable jackass; and while Zhol was usually by far the most tolerant of the handlers and stable staff that Bucky dealt with, today he was entirely unwilling to entertain the mule's antics. The mule snorted back defiantly, but Zhol's withering glare lingered long enough for it to think twice about whatever it might have been planning.

Zhol let out a sigh as he trudged from one area of the stables to another. The other workers were around, somewhere. He wasn't sure about Hansi, but Kami was off in the riding cave teaching a group of Yasi how to handle a pony; Yasi who were likely to end up working in the mines or the gardens when they were old enough, and who would need to at the very least know a few basics by then. The dek and the stable hands had been drafted meanwhile, helping with the various convoys of people and supplies that had been leaving the city for Thunder Bay the last few days. It was quiet though, and Zhol was glad of that.

Quiet.

Except for that damned squeaking.

Zhol frowned, wondering if the noise had been going on the entire time and he had only noticed it now, or if it was new. He retraced his steps, straining his ears to work out where it was coming from. Behind him? No, off to the right? Somewhere near the back of the room...

The warrens!

Zhol had barely turned in the right direction and advanced a step when suddenly a monstrous creature burst out from the tunnel that connected the stables to the rest of the city, alarmingly close to eye level. Zhol barely dodged in time, scrambling backwards as the vicious, horrifying creature ascended towards the ceiling, fluttering just out of reach and yet alarmingly close to being able to swoop down at Zhol's face.

Adrenaline surged; anger flared well in advance of better judgement. Two swift paces and his hand snapped out, fingers wrapping around one of the brooms that the stable hands used to sweep the floors, lofting it and aiming it towards the winged nightmare like a weapon.

"You've made a terrible mistake today, my creepy friend," he warned, keeping his eyes firmly focused on the bat. "Drusilla isn't here to stop me from squishing you."

by **Brandon Blackwing** on March 13th, 2015, 8:41 pm

Well, there were certainly worse things in this world than being bored, but for a person, a thief who practically lived off the thrill of things, boredom was as close to being dead as one could get. Drusilla was off to work, having found that his back was not as concerning as it had been before, it was almost as good as new. Scar tissue was still fresh and not as strong as it should be yet, but in essence the bat was healed. Plus, he was a grown man, and Drusilla knew that. Still, she had been too worried about him, having insisted he'd stay in her aeries until he had really, fully recovered. And as a result, the bat was terribly bored, there was absolutely nothing to do there.

Sit tight and behave was what Dru would say when he'd been a bat, and even when she'd seen him as a man, she'd persisted in her stubborn worrying. Well, Wind Reach could be a dangerous place for someone who found birds to be rather inferior to his own species, no matter their size. However, that did not stop Brandon at all; he needed to have something to cure his boredom, and a trip around Wind Reach would do just the trick. The only problem was how to get out. Dru had closed the door and locked it, maybe there was a spare key lying around somewhere, but Brandon hadn't found it yet. What he did have was a needle Dru used for her work, a metal spoon, and of course his ingenuity.

With some effort and by using the edges of tables and closets as a means to help him do it, he had bent the tip of the needle and the handle of the spoon. The latter was now kind of rectangular in shape, and could fit in a keyhole rather well, which was of course the one and only purpose the bat had for the item. The spoon's disfigured handle was inserted at the bottom of the lock, and the needle with the hooked end entered a bit higher. As one might expect, Brandon had created his very own lock pick and tension wrench. They weren't as good as the real deal of course, but it would do; Brandon was more than competent at his craft after all.

The pins of the lock were easy to find, though pushing them up proved a bit harder than usual due to the thin body of the needle. The tension spoon wasn't as great as he'd hoped either; the handle hadn't the exact same shape and couldn't turn the inner cylinder all that well, he had to be extra careful, and sometimes it would slip out of its position and compromise the progress he'd made. Nevertheless, he did succeed, after five or more tries. It seemed that these makeshift tools would require getting used to, but they were better than nothing. Once outside the bat proceeded to lock the door again by using his tools, because he didn't want anyone getting into the aeries -an old habit of being distrustful and the knowledge that open doors invited people in you didn't want to have- and hid his tools close by in a place he'd certainly find them again.

Now then, he was out and free, naked and ready to chase his boredom away. Where could he go though? Nothing came to mind immediately, and Brandon just shifted again, clambered up the wall and took off, the tunnels of Wind Reach dim enough for his nocturnal eyes to handle. He flew around for quite a bit, in and out of more corridors until he arrived somewhere near the gates, a place that scented strongly like horses. Oh, hadn't there been some guy who smelled like horses around Dru one day? The one she'd called her brother, the thief couldn't recall his name, but he did remember that the fellow hadn't liked him all that much. He'd seemed a little scared even. Oh yes, it was settled; this was going to be his source of fun today.

Brandon's wings carried him into the stables where he circled around close to the ceiling for a bit, then deciding to hang in the warrens, giving his back some rest. It was clear that it hadn't fully healed yet, the burning sensation told the Kelvic enough, but Brandon didn't always listen to his body. He'd mess with the horse-man first. Just for a bit. Oh yeah, there he was, the bat's sense of smell gave him the direction of the man, and his echolocation gave him the exact location. The spider's brother was approaching, and Brandon took off, swooping down and fluttering towards the young man's face.

Oh, the look on his face was priceless, as was the way he jumped aside, frightened. Brandon was close to the ceiling again, out of reach but able to fly to his face in the blink of an eye if he wanted to. However, the horse-man had a weapon, a broom to be exact, and he brandished it as if it were a sword, aimed at the tiny bat's body, an obvious threat, as were his words. Nevertheless, Brandon decided to try and scare him again, diving towards his face, sensing the broom starting to move towards him with surprising speed. Promptly, the thief folded his wings close to his body to evade the blow, then opening them again to glide a moment, close by the ground, until he had passed the horse trainer. Then, he shifted, quickly regaining his human size and body in a flash of light, wasting no moment and using his momentum to lead his now-human body into a sweep kick, aiming to topple the broom-wielding brother.

If he'd fall, Brandon would be upon him in a tick, knee pressing down on the man's chest, one fist drawn back, held above his face. “I don't need Drusilla to protect me, I am fully capable of taking care of myself,” Brandon spoke, grinning a toothy grin. Then he just got back to his feet and offered one hand to pull the fallen young man back up, the grin still prominent on his face, the other striking back his hair and getting it out of his face. Dru'd washed him too often when he'd been in bat form, his hair wasn't as greasy as it usually was and would obscure his vision every so often. Next, the Kelvic scrutinized the slightly taller man with his black hues, comparing him to the person he'd seen as a bat. His voice and scent made it clear this was the same guy, though the bat perspective certainly had made his appearance unrecognizable. In human form however, the proportions made much more sense.

Credit goes to Nyxie Nadira Draer

by **Zhol** on March 13th, 2015, 9:28 pm

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Naked. The bat had turned into a naked man. A naked man.

That was the thought that flooded Zhol's mind: not the surprise at having apparently encountered the second kelvic he'd ever met; not annoyance at having been so unceremoniously deposited on the floor; not the pain of the impact with the ground; but the naked man, kneeling naked on his chest, with his naked junk alarmingly close to Zhol's naked face. What was it with this infernal city and being naked all the time? Everyone wandered around without a shirt on. The women barely wore anything. Go for a relaxing bath, and everyone was there, letting everything hang out, without the slightest care in the world. There was Sira, stripping her kit off every time she did her kelvic wind eagle thing; and now he was getting attacked by naked bat kelvics.

Zhol wasn't an excessively proud or egotistical man; he didn't shy away from the hand that helped him to his feet as some might have. Having a small ego didn't mean it was immune to being bruised though, and it ached just as badly as the small of his back did. As the kelvic sized him up, he did the same - making sure to only scrutinise the athletically slender man from the navel up, of course. Why was he here? Why the ambush? Why had he mentioned Drusilla - was this strange bat man merely repeating the name he'd used himself, or did he actually know Drusilla? His eyes narrowed. Was this the wounded pet that she had introduced him to a few days ago? What had she called it - Bitta?

If that was true, then did she know that he was a kelvic? Surely she would have explained that days ago; so what, then? What was this? Some sort of scam? Some exploitation of Drusilla's hospitality and kindness? Was this petching creature, this flying vermin, taking advantage of his spider sister?

A fist clenched into being, but it wasn't a punch that his subconscious urged him to throw. Res flowed slowly but eagerly beneath his skin in it's usual windmark pattern, oozing into his palm before Zhol was even consciously aware that it was happening. He glanced down at his hand as he felt it beginning to collect, and grimaced; with a flick of his wrist he willed the res to become flame, a quick flash of fire instantly extinguished by the swift motion of his hand.

Still clinging to the broom, though now holding it more like a walking staff than a weapon, his gaze climbed back to his assailant, his eyes narrowing into a scowl. Using the brush end of the broom, he pressed the bristles against the kelvic's chest, gently but firmly encouraging him to increase the distance between them. "Back off, bat," he warned, speaking through a clenched jaw. "I have what you might call a fiery temper. Explain yourself, fast, or you'll find yourself on the receiving end of it."

by **Brandon Blackwing** on March 15th, 2015, 2:37 pm

Great, after having escaped a city where many of the citizens practiced the arcane arts of magic, Brandon had come to a city where not many people should be able to use it. First time actually venturing outside of the house he'd been staying at and what kind of person did he run into? A mage. This was just bad luck, the gods were toying with him; not even five percent of the Wind Reach population knew magic, or was supposed to know magic, and here there was this guy who had displayed he could produce the liquid reimancers used to fuel their magic. That alone did not really concern the bat, but the expression he'd worn, the flame that had erupted for just a tick... it had enticed a reaction from the Kelvic; his hands had gone to the opposite side of his chest, a bit below his armpits and grabbed thin air. Of course... his daggers were still lying around in Lhavit. The confusion it brought for just a moment did flash over his face however, and slowly the hands were brought back to his side.

The broom's bristles pressed into his chest, horse-man scowling, his body in a stance that was defensive. Solid, hard to push back; probably to keep Brandon away from him. It was actually a good form, Brandon could tell he had experience with either a weapon or some form of unarmed combat, but that didn't mean he was smart. Brandon still had a lot of room, he could easily slip past the broom and get close enough to throw a punch. There were many ways for him to show that he was not intimidated, nor subdued, but even though the Kelvic disliked the broom pressing in his chest, the boy was hardly a threat. In fact, Brandon had problems suppressing his laughter when Dru's brother spoke.

A fiery temper? Really? Oh, Brandon had witnessed an explosive temper, and he could tell that from what he had seen, this young fellow was not all that impressive. Yes, he had some reimancy to his disposal, but the relation between the anger and the reimancy had not escaped Brandon. This man had no self-control. People with no self control were easy to push around, easy to subdue. They'd give in to anger and rage quickly, and when they did it wasn't as explosive as that of people who bottled up their emotions. Sal for example, now that was what Brandon would call a fiery temper. Sal had self-control, Sal was gentle and friendly, but if you managed to piss him off... the Kelvic had seen the investigator consumed by rage. He'd seen him charge into battle, survive a duel with a dangerous criminal -though the bat's aid should not be forgotten, Sal would have been a corpse if not for him- and beat said criminal to an inch of his life. Brandon recalled being surprised and quite terrified too, Sal had not been himself anymore. He'd thought it fitting to compare Sal to Ivak; Ivak when he started the Valterrian. It had felt that way, and Brandon had taken care not to cross the line when mocking or teasing Sal. Friend or no, he didn't want to be the focus of that rage.

In response to the horse-man's threat, Brandon merely lifted an eyebrow. “Explain what exactly? There is nothing to explain.” Truly, he had no idea what he was supposed to clarify. You couldn't just ask a vague question and expect him to answer it. Explain what? Everything? One specific thing? He had no idea. Either way, the fun was gone and Brandon did not feel like sticking around to waste time arguing with this brother of Dru's. Instead he just sighed, turned around and started walking away, turning his back on the horse trainer. Usually, Brandon did not let his opponents escape his vision, he'd keep an eye on them, always, but the broom-wielding reimancer was no threat, there was no reason why Brandon should retreat carefully. In fact, he wasn't retreating at all; he was walking away, proudly, arrogantly. Body language was as useful in reading intentions and meanings as tone of voice or one's expression were, and Brandon's body clearly read that the reimancer was not worth his time.

Surely there were people around who were either friendly or fun enough to hang out with for a bit, or places far more interesting than stables that smelled like rotting hay, horses and their feces, and annoying reimancers. Something did pop up in the Kelvic's mind though, and he glanced over his shoulder in the general direction of the horse trainer. “I was never here. There was no bat, no Kelvic and especially no man that looked even remotely like me. Understood?” It wasn't a question, it was a statement.

Credit goes to Nyxie Nadira Draer

by **Zhol** on March 15th, 2015, 4:43 pm

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"I see."

Zhol could feel his frustration prickle, and that was a bad sign. His temper had always been there, but it was hard to recall if it had been the same or become worse once the fire of reimancy had become part of his life. He had always been quick to everything - quick to anger, quick to joy, quick to sorrow - but that often did not serve him well; at times such as these, he needed focus, he needed the cool watery temperament of his twin sister.

He drew in a slow breath, through his nose and then out of his mouth, trying to picture the flame of his anger without having to close his eyes. It flickered like a candle in the breeze with each breath, but with the next it flickered less than before, and then less again, until it fluttered only mildly, as constant as a flame could ever be. He considered his surroundings, and his situation. There was nothing to explain, the kelvic had explained; insisted, even. Nothing had happened. No one was here.

Zhol nodded wordlessly at that sentiment, frowning to himself, shifting his grip on the broom as if in surrender. He walked - ambled, really - towards the tack room, the open door into a small shadowy cave just beside the formidable doorway that led back into the warrens. Carefully he propped the broom beside the doorway, disarming himself, leaning nonchalantly against the door frame. He kept a thoughtful, casual, calm gaze on the kelvic, no sudden actions, no sudden movements, until -

Zhol's hand whipped up behind the door frame, unhitching his sword belt and scabbard from the thick iron nail upon which it hung while he worked about the stables. Too many situations in this city, too many altercations, too many dangers had made him too wise to ever stray far from his weapon, and while the longbow tucked out of view on the shelf behind him would be of little use in a situation such as this - his skills were too poor to hit something as small as a bat even if it were stationary, let alone in motion - his sword would serve him just fine. In a fluid motion he drew it from it's scabbard, his left hand wrapping around the grip between the intricate silver knotwork of the basket hilt, the belt and scabbard discarded back into the tack room to be collected later.

He took a step, imposing himself between the kelvic and the exit. As added incentive he mustered another dose of res, more focused and with more intent this time, a warning shot of fire tossed towards the ground directly in the bat's path. "You are trespassing in the Skyhigh Stables, and I have asked you to explain yourself. State your name and your business, man-bat, while some of my patience still remains."

by **Brandon Blackwing** on March 15th, 2015, 5:29 pm

The scraping of a blade being drawn was unmistakably one of the few things that could truly send adrenaline surge through his body, especially when he knew that blade was drawn on him. It made him awake, aware and focused. In an instant, Brandon raised both his arms in front of his chest and heard, hands relaxed. His torso was twisted to the side a bit, and his feet took another position on the floor. The fireball that had struck the floor just a tick later than the blade being drawn did its job perfectly; keeping Brandon in one place, staring coldly at the man in front of him, eyes narrowed. In Lhavit this action would have been labeled as unlawful use of magic and would have been reported to the Shinya by just about anyone who had witnessed the event. The problem would dissipate quickly, and the accused one would have been arrested. This however was Wind Reach, they had no laws for magic -none that Bran could remember anyway.

He looked thoughtful for a moment, trying to figure out whether to fight this guy or just answer his questions and be done with it. The latter was advised if he wanted to keep this trip a secret from Dru -after all, he had kind of promised not to go anywhere while she was gone.... he'd always been bad with promises. However, just like the sword bearing male in front of him, Brandon's patience was wearing thin; and to be honest, the horse-man just annoyed him with his attitude. Getting in the way, claiming he was trespassing, interfering with Brandon's business... He'd met such a guy before, and it had not ended well for said person. Hmmmm.... Fighting him, beating up this brother of Drusilla would not really make him all that popular with her. He'd come to lay low for a while, and stirring up trouble with family of the one person he'd met the past few days -met as a Kelvic in human form, not as a bat- was not a good idea. He might tell on him, no, he certainly would. Damn.

What had he said again? Something about trespassing, right? Was this a private area then? “I thought this was a public area,” the bat stated, his words holding the truth, though he couldn't care less about boundaries and private property if it wasn't his own. “Clearly you have no idea what trespassing is.” Was he actually trying to piss off the person who threatened him? Perhaps, perhaps not. It was useful to have an opponent being blinded by rage, they were easy to fight and less calculating and fought not as clever as they could have... Then again, trespassing did have a different meaning to Brandon than it might have to the rest of the world. To him, trespassing was not walking in openly; if he had been trespassing, no-one would have known he was there, unless he wanted them to. Not that he'd tell that to just about anyone who wanted to hear.

“As for my name, it's Brandon. Brandon Blackwing. My business is fighting off boredom and should you insist on using reimancy and pointing that sword at my person, I'll feel compelled to have you eat dirt.” He waved his hand in the direction of the weapon, a grin spreading across his face. “Satisfied, Versda?” Despite his grin, Brandon was still dead serious, his fighting pose never wavering, and he would not undo it until Dru's brother decided to put away his sword and step aside. Well, stepping aside wasn't really necessary, but still.

Credit goes to Nyxie Nadira Draer

by **Zhol** on March 15th, 2015, 6:55 pm

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A straight answer; that was something at least. Part of him hoped that the kelvic would continue to be evasive, to give him an excuse to make him the target of his tiredness and frustration. He still might, with all that cocky, self-assured attitude; yet something about him suggested that his arrogant nature was far from baseless. Most people who thought highly of themselves did not have the skill to back it up; but this Brandon seemed to, and the way he calmly and casually shrugged off being threatened with sword and sorcery while completely naked and on unfamiliar ground? That wasn't entirely unimpressive, even if it was fiercely annoying.

The tip of Zhol's blade lowered slightly, though he did not rescind the threat entirely at first. "The last people who tried to burst in here unannounced were a starving mob intent on eating the horses -" he explained, his tone still wary. Staving off boredom may have been Brandon's official excuse for being here, but bursting naked into a stables hardly seemed like a sane, ordinary person way of responding to that. "- and you're not exactly dressed like our usual clientele."

The sword lowered a little more. It was Brandon's last word that clinched it, those few syllables of Symenos that confirmed what Zhol had already suspected: not just any bat, but the same one that Drusilla had introduced him to a few days before. Not quite the ordinary creature that he had first seemed, apparently. As a peace offering, he held out his right hand; he remembered being told when he was younger that people offered that hand because it proved they had put their sword away and did not intend to attack, but the backwards-handed Zhol had no need to disarm himself for such things.

"Zhol Emberwing," he introduced, a little surprised to find himself using the pavilion name that he had left behind in Endrykas. There was no reason why he shouldn't, he supposed - the name was still his, even if the pavilion didn't strictly exist anymore - but it had been a long time since he'd thought of himself as anything but simply 'Zhol'. Perhaps it was posturing, not wanting to offer only a single syllable in response to the man-bat's much grander name; perhaps it was a sign of something else. All things considered, it didn't really seem to matter.

"It would seem that we have a friend in common -" A small tug of a smile crept onto his lips as he recalled the name that Drusilla had called him by. "- Bitta."

by **Brandon Blackwing** on March 16th, 2015, 7:34 pm

Eating the horses? Wow, those people must have been desperate for food indeed… though it didn’t quite justify why the horse trainer had attacked Brandon. Sure, he’d given him a bit of a scare, but that wasn’t quite enough to hold a fellow at blade-point for, and Brandon doubted he’d given off a hostile impression when he’d offered his hand to the man to help him get to his feet. Ah well, he’d been threatened and questioned before and he’d always made it out in one piece, which was good, though Brandon had no idea how he’d managed to pull it off. Shinya with auristic sight, wannabe heroes who decided to step up for the poor drunk that had fallen prey to the thief… And yet, here he was, still alive, still free. And not exactly dressed. The words earned a chuckle as response, reminding the bat that he was indeed not wearing clothe. However, it was really hot in the mountain city, and even if he’d his own clothes, Brandon would have thrown them off. Wool wasn’t the right fabric for wearing inside volcanoes after all.

Eventually, the sword was lowered significantly, and a hand was offered, a hand which Brandon shook briefly, noting that the man had been holding his blade in his left hand. A good piece of information, lefties were somewhat rare, but to people not used to fighting them they made annoying opponents. It shouldn’t pose a problem to the ambidextrous bat though, who –while not intent on actually engaging in combat- believed it to be a good idea to know who he was or possibly could end up fighting. Well, at least he didn’t try anything with that sword of his… if he’d be shaking his own hand, the bat didn’t doubt the possibility he’d stab himself –or try to anyway- if he was angry enough. Or intent on revenge. Dirty tactics were not beyond the Kelvic.

A name, good, this person had finally received a name. Zhol Emberwing… Well, it didn’t happen often the bat met another ‘wing’, so he actually raised an eyebrow curiously. Names often had meanings, or so Gallan had taught him one time, sometimes they were long forgotten by the people wearing it, but once they had had meaning and once people had actually known. It was as such that the bat wondered why exactly this person’s forefathers had settled on ‘Emberwing’ or why other people had. %Maybe he’d ask one day, but not now. While there was potential for a good story, Brandon wasn’t really in the mood to sit tight and listen.

”Ugh,” the bat sighed, rolling his eyes in something between mock and honest despair, ”Don’t call me that.” Good gods, why in the world had that name spread? It wasn’t embarrassing to be called that, but it was greatly annoying. It sounded silly, childish and too cutesy for his tastes. ”I just hope that Dru won’t keep using this name, I’ve asked her not too, but seeing as she has this habit of doling out nicknames… ” Brandon feared the worst. Right now only Zhol and the spider herself were aware of his Kelvicness, but that might soon change, and he’d rather not get known by that nickname. He’d rather throw himself into the mouth of the volcano than having to hear every single person call him Bitta. Most of them would be shorter than him even!

There was a brief pause as Brandon had reminded himself of one detail that he should make clear to Zhol first, since he had witnessed the Kelvic out and about. ”About Dru, keep this visit of mine a secret would you? I’ve kind of promised I would not leave her place when she insisted Wind Reach was a dangerous place.” His eyes sparked mischievously. ”Obviously she needs to learn a lot more about me, a bit of danger isn’t going to stop me, nor is her wasting her time worrying about my condition and locking the door.” Another grin, and he studied his surroundings a bit more. ”So, I take it you’re at work right now? Pretty laid back here, I see. No one has complained about you slacking off ye- Oh, someone’s coming!” Indeed, slowly but surely a pair of feet padded their way, though still a bit too far off to actually be certain they were headed for the pair of men standing near the warrens. Yet, as ticks passed it was evident that the steps were unmistakably coming towards Zhol and Brandon, the latter somewhat curious and hoping for some show of Zhol's boss giving him a lecture about productivity.

Credit goes to Nyxie Nadira Draer

by **Zhol** on March 17th, 2015, 1:59 am

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Someone coming? What the petch was Brandon talking about -

It took a few moments before Zhol's ears caught the echoed footsteps as well; he wasn't sure if he'd simply been inattentive, or if Brandon somehow had sharper ears than he did. Was that a kelvic thing? Or a bat thing? Bats did have pretty big ears after all; were kelvic in human form good at the same things they were as animals? It seemed like the sort of thing that a person should know, just as trivia; but Zhol was a pretty sheltered person all things considered. Perhaps he should ask Sira, if he ever found himself with the opportunity; somehow, he doubted the bat would be particularly helpful or forthcoming with such things.

Something was coming though, and that could be a problem. Granted, the stables weren't particularly busy at this particular point: with the ice on Thunder Bay finally melted, all the horses that had waited out the winter in the stables had begun the migration back to Water Reach, leaving the stables blissfully quiet by comparison to how they'd been only a handful of days before. Managing the stables was leisurely when they were mostly deserted; horses could be spaced out, empty stalls could be readied with ease and horses shuffled into them, making mucking out a far less complex process; it was a brief reprieve before breeding and training and birthing and all the other sunny weather activities began in earnest. That he was in conversation rather than doing anything constructive wouldn't reflect too poorly on him at all - he was an Avora here after all; the constant busy work was reserved for the Chiet and Dek, leaving him free to supervise and focus on the interesting tasks - but the fact that he was stood talking to a naked mystery man was another matter entirely.

He eyed Brandon, and then the tack room, the only logical solution presenting itself easily. An unceremonious shove compelled Brandon towards the out of sight nook, a frantic instruction to hide hissed under his breath. "I'll get rid of them," he assured, frantic glances around him to assure himself that they hadn't already been observed by anything with fewer than four legs. "Just... stay out of sight."

Zhol thought about closing the tack room door, and shutting Brandon inside, but that seemed decidedly unwise. They never shut that door, not during the day at least; doing something unusual seemed like the most rookie of mistakes to be making with attempts at subterfuge such as this. Instead, Zhol decided to distract attention by stepping across to the nearest stall, leaning nonchalantly against the stone pillars as if he were just an ordinary person, passing the time the way that ordinary people did. Just in time, he realised that the sword in his hand wasn't particularly ordinary; his scabbard well out of reach though, he settled for the sure-fire technique of concealing it behind his back.

Thankfully, it wasn't Hansi who entered, but Kami. Granted, the stablemaster wasn't exactly intimidating; just grumpy, mostly, which made the thought of deflecting him with excuses somewhat more daunting. Kami on the other hand was sweet, kind to a fault, and most importantly quite gullible, especially when it came to the elaborate stories that Zhol concocted for her about Endrykas culture. For several days, he'd had her convinced that a friendly pat to the side of the neck - the way one would with a horse - was a common greeting in Endrykas, and that male Drykas with male Striders would wear a small glass vial containing a mixture of their strider's semen and theirs, as a symbol of the bond and unity between them. She always called him out on them eventually, but there were times when he became quite proud of himself for the imaginative falsehoods he could so quickly construct.

"Good morning," he greeted enthusiastically, as Kami entered.

She shot him a suspicious look, apparently remembering that Zhol and she had already spoken several times so far this morning; a fact that had apparently eluded Zhol's mind for a brief moment. "That's news to me," she challenged warily, wearing the expression of a woman who was suddenly concerned that she was stumbling into something worth being worried about. "You've been tired and grumpy all morning. Why the sudden change?"

Zhol could feel his thoughts frantically rushing around his mind, rummaging through heaps of disconnected and irrelevant thoughts in search of something half-way plausible. "I -" he started, hoping that something would simply roll off his tongue without any effort on his part. It didn't. Fortunately, the one constant thought that left his mind, the one face, the two beautiful eyes, the heart-melting smile, came charging to his rescue. "- was just thinking about Khara."

It wasn't even a lie, not really; barely a moment past when Khara wasn't in some way dancing around in his thoughts, and Kami knew it. Her expression softened slightly; a small smile even managed to creep onto her lips. "One of these days I'm going to grow tired of hearing about how smitten you are with her," she teased.

"But not today," Zhol was confident in asserting.

Kami let out a sigh of agreement. "No, not today."

Silence fell between them, and Zhol immediately decided that was a problem. Silence gave rise to thoughts, and thoughts led to questions; the last thing that Zhol wanted to be contending with. He dove immediately into what he hoped was a winning tactic: ask questions of her, before she had the opportunity to conceive any of her own. "Was there something you needed? I thought you were teaching Yasi today."

"I am," she countered with a smile. "I just came to grab another bit and bridle. I need to do the -" She gestured with her hand, miming a horse's head and the way the tack slotted into it's mouth. "- demonstration thing."

Of course she wanted something from the tack room. Petch.

"Let me get that for you," he tried to insist.

"No, no," she countered, already retreating from him, ambling casually towards the back room where Zhol had hidden his naked visitor. "You get back to your daydreaming. Tired you is grumpy enough; Khara-deprived you is far worse."

Zhol's mind fumbled and flailed; he begged it to come up with something, anything; but it was too late. Zhol watched in silent horror as Kami stepped across the threshold into the tack room, and braced himself for her reaction.

by **Brandon Blackwing** on March 17th, 2015, 7:32 pm

When Zhol detected the footsteps too, Brandon was unceremoniously pushed into the nearest room and told to hide. Well, it couldn’t hurt to actually follow the instructions and stay out of sight. The room was stuffed with saddles and other stuff horses used for riding. Lots of leather and buckles placed on some shelves and hanging from hooks. The ceiling was low compared to the ones in Lhavit, at least a couple of inches lower and rather close to the thief’s head. Hiding on the ceiling was out of the question, his usual strategy useless in this situation. But no matter, his dark orbs spotted a couple stacks of colorful blankets lying in the far corner.

Brandon quickly went over there, his ears picking up the conversation Zhol was partaking in and was kind of disappointed in the other person being a peer rather than Zhol’s boss. Pulling some of the stacks a bit forwards, the bat carefully listened for any sign of Zhol’s distraction failing, which - no surprise- failed rather quickly. The woman the horse trainer had been talking to was walking to the room, Brandon guessed he had only a couple ticks left. Quickly he got behind the rather tall stacks, grabbed a blanket or two and draped them over his back, sitting on hands and knees, and balancing one small stack of blankets on his back also.

Moments later the horse girl came in, stood in one place for a chime or so then scurried about, cluttered with some stuff, took some with her and left again, saying something to Zhol in passing. In the meanwhile, Brandon shrugged off the blankets, placed them back, folded up and all, then got back to where the horse trainer was waiting for him. “Well, that went better than expected, there was a lot of stuff in there, but not a lot of places to hide in… Not that it seems to have mattered. The grin on his face couldn’t be avoided, and though his hiding tactic had been at the same level of a child’s, it worked.

“So what was that about being Khara deprived? Was she talking about your girlfriend or something?” Brandon thought for a tick, recalling some people he’d met a couple days ago when he’d still been a bat. “Khara, khara… Hm… Chickadee? Yes, that’s her isn’t it? So, you two are a couple? Can’t believe Dru didn’t mention that. Or did she? I can’t remember. The thief tapped his chin for a tick, then slamming his fist down on his palm. “Say, why don’t we pay her a visit? I’m sure she’ll be happy to see you at least. A brief, rather low laugh escaped him as he already started walking towards the exit of the stables.

Credit goes to Nyxie Nadira Draer