It didn’t matter what Mayra had seen, or what she thought Belkaia saw in Dravite. It was true, the woman was the kinder of the two, and forced into an arranged marriage, the pair seemed to balance each-other out nicely. Of course Dravite was a softy deep down, but the man put up a good front in public; he knew how the world worked, if you didn’t make an impression quickly, someone would make it for you. The man was not a fan of letting strangers walk all over him, he had been misjudged for far too long. Now he was his own man, free of the Windborne pavilion and the curse they all believed to follow him; he could start afresh, make new impressions and be exactly who he needed to be for his family.
Presently, the man was completely still, scared to breath in case he gave himself away to the fish that had darted off, only to slowly return to the water’s edge where the man’s feet were half buried in the sand. The horse lord readied his spear, drawing the weapon closer to him as the fish came nearer still. One, two, three! He counted in his head, thrusting the spearhead forward to break the water’s surface in an attempt to try and pin the fish on the point of his weapon. His hands tightened around the shaft, eyes narrowing, hopeful as the sand settled, only to find he had been unsuccessful once more. Dravite kicked the water ahead of him and sighed at his own misfortune.
Mayra had called to him and the man had ignored her cry until she called again, this time seeming a little more desperate in her attempt to win his attention. The horse lord looked over his shoulder and when he didn't see the woman, he shrugged it off and continued fishing. It wasn't long, however, before Mayra joined him at the edge of the lake, stating just how bad he was at fishing. He was about to snap at her, perhaps blame her for the trouble he was having catching any fish, but she beat him to it, intriguing the man with her findings.
His face lit up, he left the lake and quickly picked his sketchbook and ink stick up before following Mayra to the tree she had discovered. He was just about to mention her dagger he spotted buried in the trunk when he stepped on something sharp, causing the man to stop and lift his foot up. The scale caught the soft leather of the underside of his handmade boots; they weren’t hardy like a knight’s boots, but made for running in, with a soft sole. The scale hadn't quite managed to puncture a hole in his boot, but the leather was scratched. Dravite took the scale in hand and held it up in the light, scrutinising it with his gaze for a spell before tucking it away in his pocket.
“Ixam?” He asked Mayra, that same boyish glint reflected in his eyes as it had while they were riding out to the lake.
Dravite moved closer to the tree, examining the scale that seemed to be lodged in the trunk. He stepped back from the root system, looking for tracks, of which he managed to discover the toes; not a full print, but a good start. The horse lord ducked down and attempted to draw the outline slowly; paying close attention to the scuff marks left by the creature's claws. He then proceeded to search the grass for more tracks which led him away from the tree and into the tall grass.
Presently, the man was completely still, scared to breath in case he gave himself away to the fish that had darted off, only to slowly return to the water’s edge where the man’s feet were half buried in the sand. The horse lord readied his spear, drawing the weapon closer to him as the fish came nearer still. One, two, three! He counted in his head, thrusting the spearhead forward to break the water’s surface in an attempt to try and pin the fish on the point of his weapon. His hands tightened around the shaft, eyes narrowing, hopeful as the sand settled, only to find he had been unsuccessful once more. Dravite kicked the water ahead of him and sighed at his own misfortune.
Mayra had called to him and the man had ignored her cry until she called again, this time seeming a little more desperate in her attempt to win his attention. The horse lord looked over his shoulder and when he didn't see the woman, he shrugged it off and continued fishing. It wasn't long, however, before Mayra joined him at the edge of the lake, stating just how bad he was at fishing. He was about to snap at her, perhaps blame her for the trouble he was having catching any fish, but she beat him to it, intriguing the man with her findings.
His face lit up, he left the lake and quickly picked his sketchbook and ink stick up before following Mayra to the tree she had discovered. He was just about to mention her dagger he spotted buried in the trunk when he stepped on something sharp, causing the man to stop and lift his foot up. The scale caught the soft leather of the underside of his handmade boots; they weren’t hardy like a knight’s boots, but made for running in, with a soft sole. The scale hadn't quite managed to puncture a hole in his boot, but the leather was scratched. Dravite took the scale in hand and held it up in the light, scrutinising it with his gaze for a spell before tucking it away in his pocket.
“Ixam?” He asked Mayra, that same boyish glint reflected in his eyes as it had while they were riding out to the lake.
Dravite moved closer to the tree, examining the scale that seemed to be lodged in the trunk. He stepped back from the root system, looking for tracks, of which he managed to discover the toes; not a full print, but a good start. The horse lord ducked down and attempted to draw the outline slowly; paying close attention to the scuff marks left by the creature's claws. He then proceeded to search the grass for more tracks which led him away from the tree and into the tall grass.