[The Sanctuary] When The Light Wanes (Wikus)

[Kavala]

45th of Fall, 515 AV

There were problems in the boarders barn again. The Konti had never seen anything like it. First had been a mysterious cough that had spread trhough the horses. That was easy enough to contain and control, but now the blasted donkey had an abscess on his hip that needed drained. She wasn't sure how that had happened. Between Larik, Aweston, and Cadra, they'd searched the boarders barn and every inch of the pasture in hopes of finding what exactly had cut him. Nothing had turned up so far. Kavala had suspected a loose board with a stray nail or perhaps even a sharpened piece of the stone wall that had suddenly lost its smooth horse-safe surfacing.

But nothing.

So she had the little creature tied out in the courtyard to a hitching post and was soothing him the best way she could. The abscess jutted out of his hipbone making an odd silhouette to the donkey's shadow as the weakening fall sun cast a deep shadow in the late afternoon. Kavala took out a jar, slathered the philter in the jar over the area she was going to cut, and waited for it to do its job. The donkey's flesh soon grew numb, and at that point it was safe for her to cup her palm, craft a small sharp obsidian dagger in her palm, and and use it to slice open the bottom of the abscess. Like she suspected it was mostly liquid. The foul smelling stuff began to drain down the donkey's hindquarters and immediately shrink the swollen area. The donkey turned its head, brayed loudly, and watched the puss filled liquid pool at his back ankle.

Kavala trimmed the wound back, getting a good look at the flesh beneath, then slipped her hand across the whole thing and tapped her gnosis to ignite her divine healing ability. Rak'keli's borrowed power sterilized the wound, sealed it up, and healed the cut she'd made in the donkey's flesh leaving only a thin scar.

When she was done with the dagger she let it dissolve into sand and blow away from the pile of sand on her palm on the wind.

Kavala gave the creature a pat. "I wonder why Alea didn't find out your name." She said curiously, walking forward to give the creature a scratch between his long ears and unfasten his halter. She pulled a half an apple from her pocket and offered it to him, smiling at his delight as he munched the apple.

"Well, what now fellow? How about some play time in the boarders paddock? You earned it." She asked, and seemed to wait for the donkey's agreement. When it came in the form of a rather loud bletch she just shook her head and turned to lead him through the boarders barn to the little field between it and the wall.

"Play quickly. Night falls fast and it gets cold around here nowadays. Winter's soon coming." She added, frowning slightly, though for all that it was her time of rest. Once she released the donkey, shed find other chores to keep her busy.

[Wikus]

XX-XXXX-XXX

The time had slipped out of Wikus’ hands today. After a morning of exploration around the city, and afterwards a long sojourn around the empty fields of the Sea of Grass, the afternoon came swiftly enough to inspire some haste in him – for once. Picking flowers was an addiction he had to satisfy daily, but when that meant his night would be spent in the wilderness instead of the bed he was paying it became a problem. Now that the snakes that populate the Orchards were aware of his daily borrowing of fruits, they weren’t afraid to stalk him whenever he approached, even chase him away like a pest as he was, fortunately, quick on his feet. The militia had also caught him quite a few times borrowing flowers from the parks of the city, and he’d suspect it wouldn’t be long before they also stopped welcoming him. So now he was almost forced to roam the fields in order to pick flowers.

The quantity and beauty of those laying in his basket wasn’t as astonishing as a few weeks back, but it still had charm in his eyes. Wild flowers were not as gleaming or pure as those raised by a professional hand, but they were the ones strong enough to grow without any aid. It took a lot of time to find them, a lot of effort, and even a couple of wrong steps into muds, yet it was certainly worth it. Pink, blue, and purple Asters, a pair of seasonal sunflowers, white colchicums, some crimson sedums, a red spider lily… The list went on and on, product of a full afternoon’s work roaming the fields. An art that, no matter what happened, he’d never stop practicing.

But after the basket was full, the day had almost ended, and one of the top tasks remained to be done. The donkey, traveling partner and loyal companion, still needed to be checked on. Through extensive concentration, Wikus had managed to catch glimpse of the webs that spread across the field, and after recognizing a few and chasing them, once again he was orientated towards the stone temple the animal had chosen as a home. It was a… grandiose choice by the animal’s part, to be stalled and fed in such a luxurious location, yet his owner had no say in the matter. Finally, after an exhausting pace throughout an entire bell, he arrived at the Sanctuary.

It was late afternoon, which meant he was certainly staying in the wilds today, or hidden somewhere on the huge complex. Traveling at night was easy thanks to the visibility of the webs, yet the lack of light and company only exposed him for anyone and anything to take a bite. Never had he broken that rule and today wasn’t an exception.

The main entrance was deserted, but thankfully open. He marched only forward, for the structure of the facility was way too complicated for him to remember in only one visit. Somewhat afraid to find himself somewhere he doesn’t belong or is not welcome drove him forth in a straight line that only bent in order for his feet to be quickly cleaned on the main pool. Moving past the healing clinic like a lightning, hoping nobody would begin interrogating him, he’d quickly visualize the edifice that was supposed to hold his dear companion.

Instead of the stall, his donkey was out in the fields – something that wasn’t a big surprise as, for the small fortune paid for the refuge, he hoped that animal was treated like a king. Moving past gates and walls that stood before him and his traveling accomplice, he’d finally call out for him.

'Oi! he’d shout, catching the somewhat distracted donkey’s attention, and after an ignored signal for the animal to join his owner, he’d instead approach himself. Giving the donkey a somewhat harsh spat on the back of the neck, that was of course met with one of the usual protest brays that, for him, meant the donkey indeed hadn’t forgotten about his beloved owner. Rewarding its loyalty and company, Wikus would finally extract a bunch of grass in order to properly greet his property. Yet, for once, the unnamed donkey didn’t seem interested.

There surely was something wrong with it today.

[Kavala]

She'd been checking on another boarder's horse after she'd turned the donkey out into the east pasture. It was a safe place to convalesce still within the massive walls of The Sanctuary and right outside The Boarding Barn. Kavala didn't let it get overgrazed so it wasn't just a dirt field the horses got to stand in. There was grazing that was highly encouraged and soft grass to laze about in. The donkey sure did enjoy his lazing, Kavala had noted. She'd also noted when the tall Drykas wandered by to greet the creature.

That must be his owner. Kavala had yet to meet him and Alea had been rather vague about the man himself. For some reason Kavala had expected an older man, the type that would own a donkey, rather than an adult in his prime. She set out across the field, two stocky mountain ponies - also boarders - trailing her curiously. She'd checked on one who'd had a harsh cough the previous day along with some of the other boarders. Honey had taken care of the roughness of the animals throat. But Kavala was still stumped at the source of the illness.

"Hello there. So does the donkey belong to you?" She asked, walking up. The Konti was dressed in worn leathers, calf-high work boots, and wore an apron that was bloodstained from her earlier procedure on the donkey. "I'm Kavala Denusk, of the Denusk Pavilion, Sapphire Clan..." She said in perfectly accented Pavi. "I had wondered if he had a name." She said, gesturing to the donkey. "He's not feeling so great, though he'll get better I'm certain. He had a mysterious abscess appear on his hind end. It was a puss filled pocket of infection. I had to drain it, clean it, and heal the wound. There's a small scar where it was if you notice such things. Never seen anything like it. He was fine yesterday." Kavala said, finally catching up to the pair and halting in front of the man.

She was nowhere near as tall as he was.

The two ponies trailing her wandered up to the donkey, either to make nice or start a discussion. They hadn't seen much like him - an ugly horse with huge ears - and the conversation wasn't going so well between the three equines. Kavala got the impression the donkey was used to it.

"He's quite the character." She added, waiting for the man to speak.

[Wikus]

The barefoot man, used to being on his own, apparently translated his aloof attitude around civilization too, as he clearly hadn’t spotted the female until her speech startled him. Instead, he had been giving his full attention to the reserved donkey, whom was surely lacking a few brays when he taunted the animal with a pair of unsolicited pets and pats that, rather than showing affection or worry, were mostly performed to irk. Such was their relationship – a constant wave of provocations and annoyances that dated back to their first encounter.

Now that the female’s speech came through, in his native tongue of Pavi, an immediate surge of detest sprouted within his mind, expecting to find a Drykas that he surely didn’t wish to befriend. But what he found, with a strangely placid surprise that is, was a bizarrely pale female, shiny white hair and two eyes that abruptly stood out from both her clothing and the scene that opened behind her. It took him off-guard, and more than tick was spent on closely observing her. Strange features were present upon her forehead, almost blending completely with the pale flesh, yet not quite being subtle. Never having seen anything like it, he assumed it was a weird scar she earned somewhere.

Looking back at the donkey without having said a word, he pondered as if he was to engage in conversation with her. While he had no troubles attempting communication with other citizens, there was always a language barrier that stood between them, which halted the exchange in a certain point and, eventually, sent everyone their way. But she spoke Pavi, and even assured she belonged to one of the Clans, which qualified her as a Drykas. Engaging with a Drykas was truly one of his fears when he decided to set way towards Riverfall.

Yet the donkey was ill, and she seems to show some worry about it.

Finally, he’d look back down at the female and with a sigh, he’d finally make his choice.

“Wikus.” He said plainly, before discarding any spoken parts of Pavi and instead delivering whatever parts of the message he could in Glassland Sign. | 'Affirmation, animal owner. Animal nameless. Knowledge none disease; health positive in past. Imagination none for cause.' | His hands moved slowly, the message being delivered without any haste, as instead he seemed to focus on a clear transcription. There was no doubt the signs employed were somewhat odd, having lost their edge due to perhaps a layer of rust accumulated after some time without practice. He’d now halt, looking back at his companion before he attempted to continue gesturing. The gestures he sought didn’t manifest in his hands, and almost on instinct he spoke out. “Stubborn.”


Somewhat disappointed with himself, and his somewhat confused sense of his native language, he’d turn around and pretend to scout around the facility as if interested in the landscape made of stone walls, while he awkwardly scratched his bare chest through the plain white shirt, which of course was open. It felt truly violent to feel somewhat shy and vulnerable for speaking out, even more when speaking with someone that could understand.

[Kavala]

The Konti came to rest on her heels, squatting down so that her rump was resting on the work boots she wore. It put her more on the donkey’s level and gave the man some advantage, though he needed none with his superior height. Her long translucent hair was caught up in a ponytail, though some of it had already escaped. The effect made her look younger than perhaps she was. Absently she reached out and scratched the donkey while at the same time shooing one of the more obnoxious ponies off. His companion followed the first, ambling away in the fashion of ponies who were never in a hurry to go anywhere or get anything in particular done.

Kavala studied the nameless donkey’s companion. He was younger than she had first assumed. Human, Drykas most likely, and definitely a wanderer for all that he seemed more comfortable barefoot than in boots. She wondered if that was a choice for him in the winter as well. The Konti healer looked thoughtful, her blue eyes going so pale they made her look blind as she watched the man and waited for him to speak. He had a stoic manner about him, but there was a brooding undertone to it as if he were skittish among people. She’d recognized the look in horses before, especially ones more wild than those used to civilization.

She shifted, stretching out one leg and still balanced in her now odd crouch. The donkey seemed to enjoy the attention, for while one of her hands rested on her outstretched leg, the other one kept scratching him. Her eyes didn’t leave the man. Her expression was open, almost curious, but not forceful. Kavala treated him like she’d treat one of her horses that hadn’t quite decided on a mood yet and waited, letting him work out his thoughts.

“It’s nice to meet you Wikus.” She said simply, deciding right away not to ask him any more questions that might send him wandering off and back to the solitary company he’d been keeping before the donkey and their newborn conversation. She glanced away, meeting one of the donkey’s big brown eeys, letting the man work through his silence. When he started gesturing though, her eyes flew back to him and she caught everything after nameless. The donkey was nameless. And the man had no idea what caused the illness. Kavala nodded. She wondered if he was more comfortable in sign.

A flick of her wrist and a slight gesture gave him her answer that she understood what he’d said. And she looked thoughtful again. “Have you noticed him eating anything unusual… or perhaps he got ahold of some food that only people enjoy?” She mused, rising finally, and walked around to the other side of the donkey. The woman moved with a smooth stride that was filled with purpose. She circled the donkey and nodded. Once she was on the side with the faint scar, she ran her hand down it to draw Wikus’ attention to it. “Here. He was swollen here. He will be fine now.” She said, giving the small creature a gentle pat.

There was an awkward moment where Kavala took the opportunity to study Wikus. He was tall, as she’d assumed, towering over here by almost a foot. He was as attractive as he was tall. She couldn’t help notice his corded body and bare feet. She also noticed the ink that spiraled around his skin. The beard gave the impression he would be older, but that was fairly far from the truth once she got a really good look at him. He read of contained power and unrecognized strength. She wondered for a moment if he could fight and half smiled to herself wanting to go a few rounds with him. He wasn’t dirty, which surprised her. The facial hair usually went along with an unwashed body, but he seemed reasonably presentable. And his face was a mask. She disliked that, but when she backed her gaze off and took him in as a whole picture, his body language was incredibly expressive.

Her Konti gift wouldn’t work on him. He was far too sentient for that. But her instinct around animals would help. He was uncomfortable talking to her. Had he wandered too long? Had he lost a pavilion on the Sea of Grass and wandered away from tragedy? Maybe he…. a hundred scenarios flashed through her mind and she thought it was odd, suddenly that she was speculating on this man and his past or who he was. He’d either tell her or not and if truth be told, it was none of her business.

“My stomach is rumbling. It’s near to dinner time. Would you like to join me and have something to eat? I thought since the weather was nice I could eat in the garden alone. But I wouldn’t mind having company and I can bring enough food for two.” She gestured, past the paddock, mews, and hen house to wear the elegant stone buildings rose. “The medicinal garden is nice and secluded. I like a little peace and quiet sometimes at a meal. Perhaps you’d join me in that peaceful spot for a time. I think there’s meat rolls and little berry pies for dinner.” She added, knowing that Kavala wanted to check the hive in that garden anyhow.

“There’s bees too. I need to check them.” The Konti said, moving slowly away from him but gesturing in sign for him to join her if he wanted. “I keep bees for their honey. They won’t sting unless provoked. They are very friendly.” She added, knowing she’d have to detour for food for a moment. If he followed she’d pause at the door to the within and excuse herself to fetch the food, some drink and a blanket to lay it out on. “I’ll be right back. Why don’t you pick out a spot in the sun.” She added, knowing the fall was happening fast and the sun was weakening with the onset of winter.

If he allowed her, she’d retrieve food and be back to rejoin him in just a few short chimes.

[Wikus]

The ardent decision to visit his donkey had quickly backfired into a tense afternoon, filled with stares and critique he was simply not able to handle. There wasn’t an exact moment when these symptoms began to cripple his social skills, yet it was clear that something was not quite right as he randomly looked around to deviate attention. He felt her stare piercing through him, subduing him with an invisible leash that connected the collar that wrapped around his neck. Few people had ever caused said effect on him, many of them having banished with time, perhaps now resting in the soil. Yet it was truly pleasing to find someone else that held that much control over him, being able to prove their strength with just a gaze and shake the world of those watched. Many times it was him the one that stared, yet this once he felt powerless to meet her eyes, instead doing his best to not fall into the temptation and, in consequence, staring at the donkey instead.

But the donkey wasn’t really the focus of his attention. His eyes were pointed towards him, yet instead he watched the female through his peripherals as he pondered in wonder. Questions flourished about her that had no answer, even if she gave him the answers. He could ask what was she, how did she held that much power over him, why did she stared at him, yet never would she be able to explain. Words are often imprecise to describe what a person was, a lesson he still couldn’t stop repeating for himself whenever his curiosity pointed towards another. It was this curiosity what eventually forced his eyes to fall upon her to quickly return to the donkey, as once again his sense of self-preservation took him away from the danger it was to return his eyes in hers. Truly pathetic.

| None treats, none bizarre feed. | He gestured after a snap of his fingers to call on her attention just as she was on the rear of the donkey, distance being his ally as he felt somewhat more comfortable when not swallowed by her bottomless globes. He didn’t quite care about the donkey’s former injury, as she assured it was taken care of. Why care for something that’s gone? In a sign of having heard her, instead of approaching both her and the donkey’s scar, he’d harshly pat the donkey’s head as he usually does, rubbing his palm on the wild black mane that decorated its light fur. The donkey didn’t quite enjoy that, of course, yet by now they were both used to the mannerisms of the other. Hopefully its stay on this fenced paradise didn’t spoil his tolerance or loyalty towards its owner.

There was a bit of surprise by the whimsical man once her proposition came through, displaying a light frown that remained until he gave his answer. This time, however, he clearly felt no intimidation as he himself retuned his own stare upon the female, taken aback and moved at the same time. Being invited to share a meal in the company of another was, for him at least, an event he had not attended in a long time. Even the food would be her courtesy, which was even more bizarre. There had to be something in return by his side, of course, as the world worked that way, yet he had no clue as to what she was hoping to gain from him. She certainly had enough animals to keep her company, workers with which she could communicate as she apparently had a position of power in this business, perhaps even being the owner. She didn’t seem to have restrains like the female he met a few days back, the one that left him in the rain while he tried to explain he wanted the donkey stabled and the wagon stored somewhere. Perhaps it was courtesy, from Drykas to Drykas, the reason she extended an invitation towards him. At any case, the night was near and, if he could win himself a free meal, the better. With some luck, he’d be able to sneak in the barn afterwards and sleep comfortably with a full stomach instead or risking his life in the wild.

Following her fingertips as they pointed, he nodded before returning his gaze to hers. Truly, he was both thrilled and scared to be invited to share a meal. Having some company other than random men in the table next door or insects next to his tent was certainly attractive, yet it also made him doubt his disastrous interactions. Not being invited was common, yet being invited to be afterwards rejected or frowned upon was horrible. | I join you. |


Shortly after her hesitant departure, he followed after giving his donkey a patted farewell. Now was the moment to finally get rid of her inquisitive stare to instead inspect her closely without distraction. Moving a few inches behind her, while also trying to keep to walk beside her to not be rude, his height gave him a vantage point from which he’d run his eyes through her frame.

She was young, that was clear by now. Perhaps she had twenty winters behind her at most, no signs pointing otherwise. While her hair was bright ivory, her flesh was slightly tanner, barely enough to make contrast yet still pale enough to raise a brow in curiosity. Never had he seen a creature so pale before, even less in Endrykas where she claimed to belong. Yet it still wasn’t a sickish pale, such as the animals that are born colorless, but it was instead a somewhat attractive, sensual white that gleamed in health and beauty. While her height was no match for his, and her frame was reduced even for the Drykas standard, the work clothes that aimed to hide her curves failed as instead they revealed how firm and compact her flesh was in reality. Surely, she was popular amongst men for, despite her gaunt physique, bearing children wouldn’t be an issue. There was no need to mention that, even if he couldn’t inspect her face calmly without succumbing to panic, her features were quite elegant and graceful as much as her strides, yet no arrogance was glimmering to those who laid eyes on her unlike most females in Riverfall.

More importantly, for her young age she seemed to be extremely capable in the world that surrounded her. Beauty couldn’t have brought all of this to her doorstep. It was likely this position of power she held over this complex was maintained by her skills and cleverness, for even if she inherited this place she wouldn’t be able to keep it afloat much time without some wits to back her up. The strength of her character was also something worth pondering about, being able to rip him apart with a gaze if he was to meet it with his own, able to defeat a man with a smile he certainly hoped not to see from her.

The couple moved through the complex until they temporarily separated by tasks, hers being the food, his being the location. Doubting for a tick, he’d stand still at the door as the female lost herself within, he finally found enough courage to call out a single word that was unfortunately delivered with a somewhat insecure voice.

“Watermelon..?”

A bit disappointed with himself, he fled the scene to instead venture towards the garden, not picking the a spot as suggested but instead making sure he checked his appearance for imperfections that might cause regret in the female’s decision to be his host. The most obvious was the smell of his clothes, as two days ago rain had covered them up and, unfortunately, had given them a stench none would like to feel while eating. The remainder of his time alone was spent on him considering if he should remove said clothes and possibly causing the female to be offended, or keeping them and causing her to be disgusted.

[Kavala]

Wikus was unusual. And Kavala was smart enough to know that she was unnaturally drawn to the unusual, whether oddities just showed up at her door or she stumbled upon them out in the world. Had she viewed things objectively, she’d have perhaps realized that she herself was unusual and that like often was drawn to like. The man piqued her curiosity. Who was he? Where was he from? Why did he look Drykas yet only have a donkey for a companion? He didn’t strike her as the type that needed help, but she couldn’t help but wonder if there was some trauma in his past or something that had happened to him to leave him in a state that was so outside the normal human condition.

They’d seen a lot of it after the Djed storm of 512. People wandered in shock, not understanding they’d survived while others they loved had died. Whole Pavilions vanished on the Sea of Grass during that one event. It was something that reminded Kavala that life was short and the world wasn’t as safe as everyone pretended it was. Life molded people, inside and out. She was certainly a victim of that as well. Though bouncing back was a sort of specialty of hers.

Kavala had tried not to notice him studying her. But what she did note was that he didn’t seem aggressive or even mean spirited. He just seemed lost, like he was one or two steps outside of the heartbeat of the rest of the world. It was something one rarely saw. Most people, in Kavala’s experience, fought tooth and nail to walk exactly in step with the world. Wikus obviously didn’t. It made her want to question him, to know him, to perhaps walk backwards in his Chavi. Kavala had very few boundaries if given the opportunity to know someone. But she was tight lipped and kept what she knew to herself, knowing it was a gift Nysel gave in the revealing of the past. She’d take the opportunity, later when she was alone, to try to understand more about the man in her garden with the nameless donkey in her east pasture.

Kavala didn’t worry leaving him to his own devices while she took the ramp down into the bowels of The Within and raided the kitchen, filling a basket with food. Cadra, her Kelvic niece, had been busy baking so there were fresh cookies to go along with the meat rolls and berry pies. She’d heard Wikus utter something like … melon? But she wasn’t sure what he wanted. They only had cantaloupes, because they were easy to grow in the orangery that had been erected the summer past. She took one of the ripe ones and added a large knife to the basket to cut it up with. As an afterthought she added some of the more exotic fruit to the basket. Peaches, white pears, and a scattering of kiwi. He probably had access to apples and grapes, having them growing wild throughout Riverfall and in the orchards and vineyards gave a lot of people opportunity to buy them in the market or forage for them. Kavala always had daggers on her, but her well-oiled throwing weapons weren’t meant to slice melon and she had no particular fondness to eat knife oil.

Once the basket was packed, she grabbed a waterskin and filled it and added two horn mugs that would sit on the uneven surface of the grass easily. There were benches in the garden, so perhaps they’d settle there. She didn’t mind the grass either and grabbed a blanket to carry outside. She missed Tasival and the twins being there, but they were both off visiting their Akalak families. Kavala made sure that all three kids were growing up knowing both families just in case something ever happened to her they wouldn’t be alone. But the problem was, when they were gone, she did feel alone.

And in that she felt rather guilty dragging a stranger into the picture and practically bribing him to have a meal with her. She could eat with the grooms or the Kelvic twins, but mostly they just indulged her when she wanted to be a family. They were busy and often off on their own… especially the teens. They really didn’t want much to do with the adults and were still finding their freedom.

Walking away headed once again for the surface, she folded the blanket over her arm carrying the basket and decided forcing her presence off on a curious stranger was far better than trying to rope her family into some sort of mealtime gathering. Her family might not forgive her for interrupting their busy lives, but a stranger surely wouldn’t mind. The Konti smiled, trying to hide the sadness that ate at her when The Sanctuary was empty of her children and everyone was off.

She opened the double doors to the Within, headed out on the stone walkway, and skirted the small courtyard that lead to the medicinal gardens. She looked around for Wikus and hoped she’d find him still here and making himself comfortable. The Konti spread the blanket out once she’d found him and set the basket down. “I hope you are hungry. I brought lots.” She said, settling cross-legged on the blanket and pulling out some of the contents of the basket to show him. There were indeed meat rolls – beef and chicken – rolled in a soft flat bread with a sort of spread and a few thinly sliced vegetables. She also had cookies, the small still-warm bubbly pies full of wild berries, and several varieties of fruit. She pulled out the cantaloupe last and showed it carefully to him. “I heard you ask for melon, and it’s the only kind we have. Cantaloupe is some of my favorite. I’ll carve it up if you go ahead and help yourself.” Kavala said, nudging the horn mugs and the waterskin to show him there was something to drink as well. She had no plates, just the containers the food came in, and in the style of the Drykas didn’t expect him to use any silverware or anything else but his fingers.

Then she withdrew the knife and began cutting up the melon, carefully pulling the seeds out with a large ladle she’d included in the basket as well. The seeds and stringy melon ‘guts’ were carefully saved in a napkin that she unfolded (there were several) and replaced carefully in the basket for drying later. The melon itself got sliced up and left out so that they could help themselves when they wanted some.

“I hope you are hungry.” She said, trying not to make too much conversation with him unless he indeed initiated it.

[Wikus]

How was he to give an acceptable appearance if his own clothes stank like a wet dog?

Panic quickly took control. He had to remove his shirt and have a reason for it, otherwise he would be forever disgraced with the reputation of ‘smelly dirty peasant’ in the eyes of the female. His breathing quickened, adrenaline spreading through his veins as his time was running out. What was he to do?

Completely removing his clothes to leave him stark naked wasn’t an option. The female would take that as a sign of courtship, something they were far from as they’ve only just met, and there were no chains to dictate whom the slave of whom was. Keeping the clothes would surely pest her away, maybe even awaken a disgust so intense in her she may even kick him out of the property along with his donkey, or maybe even keep the donkey claiming he cannot take proper care of it. Even if she didn’t chase him away, she’d think twice next time before even laying eyes on him, an effect he’d not mind at first yet eventually would tear him apart as, no matter how much he pretended, he did like to feel her interested gaze upon him. Many years passed before anyone took an interest in him.

Which meant he had to either camouflage the smell or find a reason to strip. Camouflaging the smell of wet clothes that weren’t properly washed was nearly impossible. No matter what he did, they’d still have that hidden note of pestilence in them, even filtering some to his own flesh which was yet another problem he had to take care of. He had to get rid of that shirt. He didn’t mind ruining it and having to buy a new one – it’d be worth the few coins he’d spend. But, once again, everything needs a reason or instead he’d arise suspicion or distrust in the female. Quickly he inspected the garden that would serve them as sanctuary for their meal. Beehives rose in a corner, while in the other side laid a small pond. The bees were apparently already calming down their activity for the day, hiding from the cold of the approaching night. Benches and flowers rose from many spots, yet their use was none for his current intentions. Rubbing flowers all over his shirt was an option already analyzed, concluding that its use would be none as he’d only arouse suspicion. There was only one option left.

Lies were something he detested, something that had no use but to cause pain and distrust in others. It was still shocking how many times one is inclined to lie instead of being honest and speaking the truth. Truth doesn’t have to be pleasant, it never is, yet it is the only thing real.

Finally, he’d remove his shirt with haste before running behind the pond and deliberately jumping on the grass to slide the white shirt across the floor in order to taint it green. Behind the pond is a spot she’d never notice being somewhat ruined, for there wasn’t any reason she would bother going there this afternoon. The compressed grass wouldn’t be discovered he thought as he rubbed his shirt thoroughly through the floor. When it was dirty enough, he’d quickly run back to the center and, leaving the grass stained shirt visible on a bench, he’d now stay in the middle of the garden where they would sit. The smell of the shirt had, unfortunately, stained the smell of his flesh as well. If he was to give a proper image, he had to get rid of it. Reaching his basket, which still hanged from his left forearm, a couple of asters would be perfect to rub across his chest in order to somewhat mask the stench.

It was then when the female’s presence made itself felt behind him, the flowers ruined by now as he thoroughly grinded them across his skin, yet still having a last problem before the smell masquerade was over – getting rid of the evidence. Having no other options, he sat down while casually raising his hand towards his mouth, planting the paste of previous flowers in his mouth as he then pretended to fondle his beard. He chewed swiftly the bitter plants before swallowing just as she stood beside him. A stomach ache was worth if he was to keep her company.

Standing aside as she set everything, he’d finally join her on the other end of the blanket – distance was his ally once again. There was no shame in being shirtless, as he was way proud of his way of handling such grave issue with such stealth. The remaining windmarks were exposed, at least the ones across his torso, something he didn’t quite enjoy yet still being the only option.

The windmarks themselves were far away from the Drykas standard. Unlike most marked, his design didn’t quite seem to count merits by number but instead by meaning. They weren’t black and uniform, nor even in the same style. Instead, they were colorful and somewhat picturesque, as if a story itself was written on him that changed limb from limb. The right arm was completely dedicated to flowers, for instance. Many colors merged together in a single flower at times, while others presented themselves with a single variety beside the shadings and details, which always contrasted with the filler. Tulips were the most present, along with some roses and some daisies. Very few of his skin was visible in said arm, almost bloated from imagery. The left arm did not present the same love for flowers as his counterpart. While there were certainly some examples, a few gigantic red roses filling some spots, the portrait of a female stood there, and snowflakes covered the remaining chaotic ink. Said portrait didn’t quite seem to represent a Drykas, but it was more of a fantasy representation of some being the man had decided it deserved a spot. Both arms were filled until their fingertips, two identical roses blooming before the fingers began. The chest was instead filled with beasts – tigers and snakes wrapping together in his belly, an eagle’s wings soaring through his breasts. The back was, strangely, dedicated to only one image. The same woman that had a portrait in his arm had also found place back there, yet this time her body also was present. A bizarre gigantic cobra snake, with its face being exchanged by the over-embellished female that stared somewhere above with wonder as her tail wrapped around a single rose. Its colors were powerful and well saturated, yet the design itself gave a bit of doubt as, despite trying to give the appearance of a snake it somewhat looked like a worm. The flesh itself, tormented by the cold, was tense as usual yet no care appeared to flicker on the stone-featured male. Serious and grave as usual, he certainly did show a bit of fatigue as he attempted to slow down his breath.

Finally getting ready to dine, he’d leave the wicker basket between them to act as a natural defense against his smell, its efficiency being more hypothetical than practical yet still helpful for his remorse. He did not completely sat down though, instead crouching down on the tips of his feet until he realized that, indeed, he had to settle down similarly to the female.

She did indeed brought food, which immediately woke a roaring sound in his suffering stomach, the flowers being indeed rejected and nausea being the consequence of his subterfuge. Still, he awaited until she ate first in case there was something else to be done. Rudeness was not his objective. She also brought a melon – the wrong kind, of course. While he was fond of every fruit he had tried, Cantaloupe was by far the most disgusting fruit he had tasted. With every bite he felt nausea from the pasty and extremely sweet fruit, its color resembling maggots squished together under a rind, the seeds giving the image of intestines and its rind actually misleading the viewer as if one was to actually find something good and tasty inside. He pretty much preferred to eat a wagon full of flowers and his stomach to be burned to ashes rather than eating a single bite of that obnoxious product.

Yet he had to be polite, and she brought the melon because of him. Sure, she misheard him, but the deed was done and the fruit was cut. Eating the smallest of all pieces, almost unable to hide the constant gags he suffered from both flower paste and cantaloupe alike, he quickly proceeded to attack the meat rolls. Unfortunately for him, the melon’s smell had found a home in his beard, for it bathed in the yellow juice as he ate, giving him yet another problem he couldn’t quite deal with due to the female’s presence.

As usual, he ate with haste yet in complete silence, eyeing the female every now and then and nodding when she was looking to assure her of her cooking, while he couldn’t really taste any of it due to the flower’s strong flavor still lingering about in his mouth.

[Kavala]

He was shirtless when she returned. Kavala wasn’t sure why until she noticed the shirt laying over a nearby bench, stained and soiled. Her brow furrowed slightly because she didn’t remember him having a stained shirt. Perhaps she’d just missed it when she’d been busy studying him, worried far too much about his mannerisms than his actual appearance. Had she known he was worried about his clothing’s smell, she would have chuckled slightly and assured him that she’d smelled worse between the healing clinic and the kennels and indeed the manure in all the animal enclosures. Kavala was offended by certain things, for sure, but rank smells she was rather dulled too. Her sense of smell wasn’t her most valued sense. Her eyesight and hearing were far preferred.

When he offered no comment she began to quietly eat. There was a silence between them that might have bordered on awkward had the Konti been more used to keeping company with humans than animals. She wasn’t. In fact, as the meal progressed, she took up her time studying his inked chest and quietly beginning to talk. She started the conversation quietly, as if she didn’t mind it was one sided, though she did pause between her statements, giving him a chance to respond if he wanted. The Konti wasn’t in the habit of rambling, and she didn’t at this occasion either. Nibbling at her food delicately, the Konti nodded over towards the hive resting in the distance.

“This time of year I check each one. The ones that are not strong enough to survive through the winter, I decide what to do with. Sometimes they just haven’t gathered enough food and sometimes they just don’t have enough numbers. There’s two possibilities when you are a beekeeper.” She said, striking out on that topic not knowing if he was interested or not. “You can kill the queen and put the remaining colony in with another queen who has a weak colony as well. That way when you combine two weak colonies then you can often create one strong one. This works well if you also add in some additional food for them. Sometimes I steal frames of honey or nectar or even pollen from other very strong hives to make sure the weak ones eat. Sometimes if there isn’t enough left, I’ll kill the queen and combine the remaining survivors with strong hives.” Kavala added, noting suddenly the man seemed to be gagging on the cantaloupe. He was polite about it, but she could tell he didn’t like it.

She reached over and moved the melon away from him, placing it closer to her where she nibbled on the cut slices pleasantly. The meal wasn’t truthfully totally to her taste. She enjoyed fruit and sweets, but her tastes ran more towards seafood, clams, and crab. She would have loved to have served crabcakes or something else equally delicious, but they had meatrolls instead. Kavala wouldn’t apologize though. Food was food and she was glad to have it, regardless if it wasn’t her favorite.

The Konti poured herself a horn mug full of water and drank deeply of it.
“I harvested a great deal of honey this year. All the hives were doing good. We only had one fail and I’m still not sure why it wasn’t successful. But things change in fall and sometimes strong hives go down hill fast. I’m not sure why. I study them and am learning, but I’ve only been a beekeeper three years.” The Healer said, shaking her head and chuckling. “I didn’t even really think I would have become one but we needed the honey and beeswax badly for the healing clinic. Honey is an amazing thing. You can slather it on any sort of wound and it guarantees that the wound wont’ get infected.” The Konti said, knowing the reason was a lot like Rak’keli’s touch didn’t allow for infection either. In her mind she equated bees to Rak’Keli.

After a few moments and the consumption of a meat pie, she went on. “There’s a wellhead right outside the clinic and a wash tub. I can loan you a sliver of good soap if you want to wash your shirt. It looks like it got a bit dirty. There’s a washboard too. I need to clean some bandages for the clinic so I need to get the stuff out anyhow. You’re welcome to use the gear first before I get it all bloody with the cloth I need to clean.” She said helpfully, not trying to point to him being smelly. She hadn’t even noticed really. He was human, and the appearance of his unusual windmarks having confirmed her suspicion of him being Drykas.

Kavala had eaten more than enough, even though she’d just mainly nibbled, and reached for one of the berry pies. They were about the size of the palm of her hand and folded over so they were more or less portable requiring no fork or plate. She nibbled on that as well, seemingly liking the fruit, and washed it down with more water.

Her eyes rarely left either Wikus or the hive, depending on which one she was talking too or about.

[Wikus]

It was a pleasant afternoon for him, even if his stomach ached gravely due to the light poisoning from the flowers. Pain was temporary, yet this afternoon would be eternal once it concluded, for chime after chime he forced himself to brand the moment in his memory. While he ate without an order, randomly picking its next piece that was quickly devoured, his eyes flew constantly between the selections and on into the females’ globes. There was no shame anymore, at least not the same kind of shame as felt before. When she laid eyes on him and wished to tear his flesh apart to brand him in some category, when she laid a silent judgement upon him he could only feel ashamed and shy. But now, as she spoke and laid eyes on him to point those words at him, as those words and phrases were up for him to judge and listen, he could only feel a connection between them.

There was a strange magic in everyone’s words. They had the power to break a man apart, or mend him together. They had the power to describe endless beauty, vast sceneries, unimaginable horrors and, instead, they were best to describe how one feels. It was that what most intrigued him about the world, or at least in that moment. He had walked the fields, been here and there, lived through this and that, yet he’d never be anyone else. He’d always see the mountains through his eyes, feel the river through his flesh, taste the rain with his tongue, yet it was far more intriguing the thought of how someone other than himself saw those very things. Wandering about through endless beauty eventually bores everyone, be it sooner or later, yet it’s imperative for all. Colossal mountains eventually became common hills, colorful scenes became gray and simplistic, yet a person’s mind always remains a mystery for it can never be seen, touched, or felt entirely. That is what intimacy was for him, and that is what they had right now.

He didn’t quite enjoy sharing his thoughts to others, not because he was reclusive, but because they simply couldn’t be voiced. There was not a subject he knew that could be voiced for others, not even the flowers he collects being able to be shared. He knew what they were, what they meant to him, yet he didn’t knew their name or origin, nor did he have the words to express how he felt towards them. They, along with many others things, were mute.

Yet, as she spoke, he could picture her inspecting the hives, taking the live of one bee to guarantee the life of others, perhaps doing so with sadness or perhaps without much thought in the cruelty displayed towards something as insignificant as a bug. It was fascinating, indeed. And the best of all was that, those words she spoke and shared, were only for him. There was no donkey, no animal nor person other than him right now. Even if she spoke about bees and honey, she spoke for him alone and that very thought was arousing. His attention was full, eager to listen to every single word she shared even if three whole winters stood before the end of her speech about bees. He glanced between his next food choices before returning eyes to her, eager to learn about whatever she wished to speak about. It had been a long time before someone had directed words for him alone, and certainly he wasn’t going to waste this opportunity. He only hoped she didn’t take his silence as indifference.

At the end of the subject, he wished to share as well, that being a bland and plain | Sad. | gesture. There wasn’t much explanation by his part, as instead he now reached for an apple he’d devour to counter the taste of the melon, not offering any judgement on the meal nor comment whatsoever. He ate, and while not completely satisfied with the situation in his stomach, it was certainly a good afternoon. This Kavala woman certainly was pleasant to be around with.

And, once again, he found himself trapped by judgement. Looking back down and flushing immediately once she offered him means to clean his shirt. She knew; she had smelled him. So much work and stealth only to be discovered with the same ease she had whenever she killed a bee queen – only this time he was the bug. He didn’t even let her finish her sentence before he exclaimed abruptly “I’ll buy a new shirt.” before taking one of the berry pies and shoving it harshly in his mouth. Almost wishing to choke on it or somehow offend the female in order to escape the awkward and uncomfortable situation that now loomed around him. He didn’t look up from his basket anymore.