[The Sanctuary] When The Light Wanes (Wikus)

[Kavala]

Had she of known he had mistaken her sincerity and hospitality for judgement, Kavala would have been quietly furious. But he was not a horse to read with her Konti Gift and she didn’t understand that she’d offended him when his eyes dropped back to the basket and he said he’d buy a new shirt. She tilted her head, looked puzzled, and shrugged. “There is no need. It will come clean easily.” She said with a shrug, picking up a napkin from a small bundle of linen in the basket and wiping her mouth clean of any stray berry juice from the little pie. She still craved something… dried seaweed most likely… but she left the meal as it was, rising quietly and excusing herself. The human would polish off what he wanted. They always ate far more than she did, at least her family could, when they sat down to break their fast together.

“You enjoy. I’ll be back in a few moments.” She said, heading off towards the hive that was across the gardens from where they sat. Wikus would have a good view of what she was doing, but would be in no danger from the bees if he stayed on the blanket if she got them stirred up when she checked them. There was a stand the hive was on the stand itself resembled a sort of outdoor cabinet. Kavala opened a little door on the front of it, careful to stand slightly to one side out of their flight path coming and going from the hive. She pulled out a veil and a small can that had a sort of leather bellows on the edge of it. She flipped the lid on the can which indeed was a smoker and stuffed it full of some shredded fabric that seemed to be stored in the same compartment. She closed the door, blew on the tinder in the can, and fire arose from it almost immediately. She’d infused her breath with res and then ignited it when it had hit the old worn shredded bandages she used for tinder. The fabric lit, Kavala closed the lid, then sat it aside. She donned the veil, picked up the bellows again, and gave it a few pumps until smoke puffed out of it.

Then she smoked down by the hole the bees were coming and going from, then tipped the lid and smoked the hive good from the top. She set the lid aside, carefully balancing it with the smoker, and reached in with her bare hands to pluck a frame of bees out. She made a careful inspection, examining how many frames were full, what the brood pattern looked like, and how much food they had stored. She made a satisfied little noise, slipped the frame back in the hive barehanded, and then pulled a couple more just to seem to satisfy her curiosity.

They looked good. The frame contained a good solid brood pattern, was swarming with bees, and the top third of each frame was full of honey all capped and ready to go. She’d already taken the honey super off the hive earlier in the season and was really just doing a last minute check before cold weather seeped in to make sure they were still doing well. The colony was, and she carefully set the lid back down, flipped open the smoker, and breathed into it again, filling it with res she immediately turned to water, and drowned the fire within. She emptied out the smoker of burned mushy fabric, set it aside on the grass still steaming, and carefully stowed her gear below. The hive was reassembled carefully, lid tucked in place, and Kavala waited a few moments for the ones buzzing around to gently settle. Then she pulled the veil off after being sure the bees hadn’t gotten upset by her intrusion, and made sure it was neatly stowed as well.

She stooped down, gathered the mess of half-burned soaked fabric in her hand, and carefully wrapped it in one of the cloths the meat pies had been wrapped in and stowed it in the basket along with anything else that was left over. She’d return things to the kitchen fairly soon. Then she rejoined him on the blanket.

Kavala wasn’t sure whether to mention the shirt again or not. Wikus had been so quiet. She glanced at the beehive across the garden and nodded to it. “It looks good. It’s another one that will make it and probably do well throughout the winter. I won’t have to do anything to it and I might even be able to take a frame of bees from it and add them to my weaker colony.” Kavala said, looking thoughtful then turning to study Wikus once more. Maybe it was time to talk more about the shirt.

“I can take care of your shirt for you. It’s no trouble.” She said, trying to be nice to the man who seemed so different than most people. Kavala was clueless about people. Sometimes she could read them but it helped if she could see their faces. Wikus had so little of his expression exposed between his beard and the fact that his eyes were on the basket. It gave the Konti very little to go by.

[Wikus]

It took him a while to finally shatter his frozen stance, his wake being after the female left the boundaries of the blanket. It was in that moment of privacy that he chose to extinguish the blushed features by chugging on the remains of the meal, the cakes being the first to go followed by the fruit except the cantaloupe which he wouldn’t even dare to look. There was no pride in eating while the host wasn’t looking, yet it was certainly better than displaying manners and end up hungry a bell later. Plus, whenever she wasn’t around Wikus felt a weight dissipating from his back in which he had to carry his lack of socialization and its reasons. Those whom wished to remain hungry and polite never lasted long.

He wasn’t quite aware of the female’s doings near the beehive, where she had halted moments ago before his gluttony strike, and he didn’t bother to regularly check on her doings rather than carefully observing if she was to return and catch him feasting like a pork. It wasn’t until the smell of smoke tainted somewhat the scent of the food that he looked up and stared at what tasks the female had in her hands. Smoking the bees to calm them down wasn’t anything new for him, as he himself had leeched off the product of those insects several times to give himself a treat in the wilderness, honey being delicious and, according to the female’s version, also a good medicinal remedy. Never had he tried to cure wounds with honey, but it’d be something he’d try sometimes. Hopefully, not on himself. Still, it was still a mystery how the fire was ignited, surely product of a mechanism the female had invented. Resourceful as she appeared to be, he stared a little while until he realized that, from that distance, he wasn’t going to see much but faint and mysterious motions from her hands that wouldn’t have meaning unless he approached.

Taking the last apple, he’d place it between his teeth as he approached the small pond that stood in the middle of the garden, and sitting on the edge, he’d submerse his feet and proceed to clean them off, followed by his own hands and afterwards his face – making a special effort on removing the cantaloupe stench from his beard. There wasn’t anything to wipe his facial hair with, nor would his face for that matter, as using the now isolated shirt would only mean having its own wet-dog aroma impregnated onto him. He did what he could to wring it, using his fingers to comb the hairs out as best as he could. Afterwards he’d dampen his hand in order to wipe his chest of the plant’s sticky juice he had used to mask the smell. While unsure about the pond’s function, he was certain his own hygiene would be acceptable as one of them. Biting on the rest of the apple, he’d watch the female’s work from the spot. He didn’t quite move when he headed back, which was what perhaps caused her to instead deal with the cutlery without saying a word, something he would have done if given the chance yet perhaps not asked to as his current location didn’t quite seem very eager to help.

Drying his feet on the grass, he’d return to the blanket and once again sit, somewhat more confident in his body odor as water had surely helped all the issues that held him back from being simply mute – instead of a smelly dirty mute. The last apple was long gone, even the seeds being eaten since, well, he quite enjoyed not leaving anything out, especially if it could be eaten. Kavala returned, eager to share her analysis of the bees’ status, apparently that being what she had done near the hives. It was a fascinating matter, being able to take care of insects in order to both grant them benefits in order to receive honey in return. Few times he had seen beekeepers, but the more he heard about them, the more he was convinced that those beekeepers were the true queens of the colony. It was perhaps the way the female talked about them, with a somewhat strange care yet with an ominous control, what kind of inspired him to maybe one day take care of a colony of his own. With a bit of luck, she could teach him if he dared to ask.

In fact, the female had been very kind to him and his donkey. While her job would mostly include taking care of the animals she handles, the donkey itself seemed to be having a good time there which was well appreciated – he didn’t his companion to feel caged or unwanted. Not only that, but she also showed the same kindness towards him even if that no longer was part of her job. It was strange at first, doubting her intentions as nothing is ever free, and it took a little while to finally find some comfort in her presence, it was beyond doubt that he enjoyed spending time with her, even if this was their first encounter. She had fed him, spoke to him, and even offered her aid despite him not quite needing it. Taking his basket near, he’d now search amongst the collection a flower that would be enough to thank her for all she had done for both him and his donkey. Finally, he settled for a blue aster, a flower that may be common but not for that reason less attractive. He’d extend his hand in order to give the offering to her, hoping she’d appreciate said gesture in exchange of his lack of conversation.

But that gesture wouldn’t be appreciated, as instead the flower stopped being an offering and instead became an offense, the fingers in his hand tossing it towards her face as she once again brought the shirt up in the conversation. It was an involuntary action, fueled by the frustration that was manifesting on his features with a frown. Why was she so insistent about the damn shirt, if not to laugh and mock him by his smell? The kindness he had received twisted into pity, that being the only explanation that was remaining. She didn’t invite him over to dine because of interest nor kindness, but cold and harsh pity he wouldn’t accept if he had been aware of what laid beneath. “I don’t want your help, are you deaf?” he’d add automatically, the worst possible sign of gratitude one could pull off. The stance, although unchanged and stoic, had quickly proved to be a façade for insecurity and aggression, traits that apparently built up his whole being. The fact that they were communicating in Pavi, and she claimed to be part in one of the clans only brought more undeserved resentment towards her, for the few ticks of fury he displayed treating her like he’d treat any other Drykas.


Of course, past the storm came the calm, moment in which his clouded judgement would finally clear. Regret took over the resentment, as indeed he had crossed the line by far. The aggression and the sensitive defense mechanism were deactivated, to once again leave a strange combination of serenity and insecurity he displayed in the most awkward moments of their short-lived encounter. The pride that had inspired his disrespect turned to shame, as he couldn’t but feel empathy for the female whom, despite how awkward his own company was, had shared her food and words with him, only to be thanked with an aster thrown in her face. If he had been the host, he’d be shattered by now.


“The shirt stinks and I didn’t want you to sniff it.” He said a tick later, knowing the female deserved an explanation before she kicked him out of the property. She deserved more than that, more than an apology or explanation, as he had truly enjoyed the afternoon in her company, even if his harshness had surely proved otherwise. His eyes couldn’t even face the females’, instead running off to the side to watch the pond while still keeping his frown, one this time he was more angry with himself than with the deluded assumptions about Kavalas’ intentions. He’d open his mouth to produce a sound in his throat, as if about to say something that never comes afloat, instead being suffocated and left unknown once he found a lack of words. Instead, he’d deliver one of the first signs every Drykas youth learns in his life, delivered to mothers and fathers as one commits a mistake. | Sad. |

[Kavala]

Kavala blinked when the flower was flung instead of offered and the man’s visage twisted into something halfway between rage and frustration. Her eyes narrowed and her hand slipped down to her boot which always held at least one dagger. She didn’t move immediately, after all a flower was not an imminent threat on her life. But she did recognize what she thought were signs of instability in Wikus’ character. He spoke then, a full sentence, and the words rolled over her.

Truth be told, Kavala was used to such outbursts. Not in humans, of course, but in horses. She often didn’t let them get away with much, but she also didn’t punish outbursts of attitude which revealed to her internal problems and how their brains worked. Breaking young horses resulted in a lot of outbursts, and she could tell which animals were suited to which tasks by how they reacted.

Wikus wasn’t suited to decent company, evidently, because he certainly couldn’t handle someone being nice to him. “I’m a healer.” She replied calmly, tilting her head but keeping her hand on the dagger. “I smell all kinds of smells all day long and pay them no mind. I was being NICE by offering to help you launder your shirt. I know how it is being on the road and that hot water and sometimes even a pail or a washboard to wash them on is hard to come by. It’s something I’d offer any traveler coming through with the kinds of stains on their shirt you have. You should try it sometime…. Being nice. It involves saying thanks and taking people up on their offers when they try to do something nice for you.” Kavala said, looking thoughtful and a bit angry for a moment.

“People have been very nice to me in the past when I have had less than nothing. People have saved my life. I try to be that kind of person to others, especially when I don’t know them, like I don’t know you. The proper thing to do is just hand me the petching shirt, say thank you, and let me take care of it. Then enjoy the fact that someone wants to do something nice for you for once. Other people might just want you gone… kick you out… tell you to take your donkey and leave. I’m not that person. But I won’t tolerate bad behavior either. Please apologize.” Kavala said thoughtfully yet forcefully. She’d not leave it at him being remorseful.

[Wikus]

There were many contradictory signs from the female who sat before him. While he offered a metaphorical hand in an aid that would surely benefit him, that being a clean shirt and perhaps some more advantages, her attitude was closer to menacing rather than forgiving. It was almost blackmail the position he currently sat through, unable to do anything but to follow the female’s instructions if he had any chance of both staying on her good side or, at least, keeping the donkey stabled here. While she assured somewhat that she wouldn’t do such, he damn well knew that could change in a heartbeat if she felt the collar she had wrapped around his neck was getting looser. Still, even with the collar being tight she could always strangle him if she desired, which the downside of following along was. His mind slowly processed the alternatives he had, not really being prepared to deal with these kind of situations as human psychology was unknown to him except his own, and that example was surely not eligible for anyone else.

Meanwhile, in the few ticks the silence prevailed after her demand, he’d limit himself to return his unconvinced and unrestful stare upon her, making sure to keep in line the usual facial expression as much as he could, for he somewhat suspected that any slip would be used against him once more. The tension remained untouched, no meal nor conversation having molten them and still being stuck as it was the moment they met. For once, he quite wished to insult her yet again with a flower for the feeling of being trapped was nothing but obnoxious. “Sorry.” He said finally, not quite sincere but instead just a mere word without meaning that was delivered somewhat plainly. It was better to say this word and keep the donkey here than not saying it and having to deal with the animal personally. Nonetheless, even if the shirt was left chase after her ‘help’, he’d buy a new one and this one would be disposed of. Pity was not on the menu, at least not in his.

Now, as she got what she wanted, he himself tilted his own head back, a sign of superiority that wasn’t quite earned but nonetheless expressed, looking forward to the female’s reaction as he hoped she proved her own words wrong. It was a gamble that risked too much for very little, yet he wasn’t one to think of defeat. Mistrust was deep in his nature.

But he couldn't just pester away and mistreat his host, even if he wished to.

Moved by the fear of rejection, the harshest fear his mind was plagued with, his own little tantrum being cut out prematurely by a deep blush in his cheeks, that were thankfully covered in the golden beard that may perhaps hide it from the female. "Alright!" he'd call out abruptly, not quite aware of his tone or the frustration that had somewhat erased everything in his wake.

"I am sorry, understand? I just... It's..." Words didn't come easy as they were often not used, now committing mutiny against the man's tongue as they too preferred to stay locked up in the cage of nothingness. His hands moved as he spoke, not in signs to express emotions or complete the Pavi language, but instead to bring some reason to the lack of words throughout body language. ".. Alone, and uh... Oi... No conversation." It had turned almost erratic the situation he found himself in, trying to express something he couldn't quite understand. Shame and mistrust, hatred and forgiveness, company and rejection. Emotions he had felt but had never understood, and he found difficult to even think about, impossible to speak. Instead of fighting a lost cause, he'd almost jump up back on his feet, eager to do something on the matter but not quite finding bravery to even stand, a problem that reincarnated itself again and again whenever he returned his gaze upon the judgmental female. Nervous and shaken, it took him three attempts to face the eyes that stared to finally stand up and hover over the female, hoping the distance between the two gazes would be enough to return him some pride.

Striding swiftly towards the bench with a somewhat insecure gait, he'd retrieve the shirt and as he showed it to the female without moving, he'd stutter once again before managing to say just enough to perhaps make sense. "... I clean, thanks."


OOC NoteI've modified the post a bit since it was WAY too passive. Now, Wikus turned into Consuela

[Kavala]

Kavala shrugged, still studying the unusual man with his unusual mannerisms. In her mind, he was a cull, someone the world had most likely damaged and damaged most likely to the point of being violent and having little to no remorse for it. His apology at her explanation was certainly insincere. So too were his actions thereafter. He was focused on himself and the world that revolved around him. She'd fed him, offered to help him launder his clothing, and given him a brief respite from the world in her peaceful medicinal garden. But it wasn't something - neither the actions or the locations - he evidently could appreciate. And in a way that saddened her.

Damaged animals she could heal. But she was horrible with damaged people and could do virtually nothing for them. In fact, she counted herself among them, surviving only because of Caelum's love and his consistent care as a brother. Kavala blinked, shook her head, and carefully began to repack her basket. She stayed away from Wikus and kept her gaze from his eyes. His words though, the more sincere apology, reached her and she glanced up. She was momentarily caught in this gaze. His emotions were in his eyes, whirling by too fast for her to read. But she could see them and perhaps later identify them.

Alone. She understood that too. But still she said nothing, standing trapped there staring at him, knowing anything she said or did would perhaps be the wrong thing. She wanted to apologize for him being alone. But it was none of her doing. She wanted to reassure him, but in the world they lived in there was no assurances. Kavala didn't know what to do. The kindest thing to do would be to kill him. She'd learned a long time ago to cull the unstable and strengthen the whole of the species. But she didn't think she'd have it in her, not now, not like this. Wikus bled from invisible wounds. They had no form or substance but that didn't make them any less tangible. He'd either die from his hemorrhaging or the strength of his body would halt his own blood loss and start him healing.

Rak'keli's gift was blissfully silent. And for that she was grateful. And so she simply and carefully did nothing, hoping he'd take the cue and decide it was time to leave. Her place was a place of healing for those that wanted to heal. Kavala wasn't sure Wikus was even aware of how hurt he was inside. But she was no mind healer, and his wounds were not physical.

And so she just offered him a small unoffensive smile, or what she hoped passed for one, and nodded at his words about the shirt. She finally understood.

[Wikus]

Wikus had wasted his last arguments for nothing, apparently. He had seen that same gaze he saw in Kavala many times before: its meaning was a part of him just as the ink was a part of his flesh. It usually merged with some other attitude, be it disgust, anger, contempt, horror. They were all interchangeable. In a way, he felt thankful just as much as he felt betrayed, no matter how short their encounter was. Thankful for being finally dismissed back into his own world and saving him from future encounters in which he’d find Kavala drained of her beauty. Betrayed for his own actions and words had revealed the consequences strength had on those whom didn’t die young. Daydreaming for a world that valued him as much as he would have liked was a waste of time, and the few scars he held remained him to stay away from the fantasy friends, acquaintances, or lovers were. Kavala had managed to see past the walls he had once erected to protect himself, and Wikus could do nothing but be thankful to her.

Convinced their paths were split from now on, any remain of the emotions he had unwarily filtered dissipated with every tick that passed. Only the serenity first encountered would remain, a calm gained throughout countless days spent with the donkey’s only company. Emotion was snuffed under it, submerging and drowning in the uniform waters until nothing but the empty carcass of his being remained. Taking a short step away from his host, he’d pick his words carefully before eventually speaking out passively. “Thank you for having me.” No gestures came this once, the phrase being emotionless salve for the minimal emotion shown in his uniform intonation. As he stared at her from a distance, he would have liked to return a smile for her, yet said gesture was unusual in him and would probably be more bizarre than appreciated. Kavala, although still a stranger, had proven to be an excellent host and a woman no weakling should ever try to face. Her strength may not be in her arms, but instead carried her words and eyes with the same strength a man swings an axe. Wikus couldn’t feel anything less than complete respect for her.

Dressing his torso with the green tinted shirt, he’d finally move closer to the picnic blanket to retrieve his own basket. The day was late, the night was to fall soon, yet if he left now he may be able to reach the city without having to look behind him to find staring eyes wishing to devour him. Respecting her space, he’d crouch to retrieve his basket as he tried to stay the furthest away from the female as he could. It wasn’t quite fear as it wasn’t respect either, but simple custom in his daily self to keep himself away from anyone. He did, however, obey one of his whims to glance into her eyes once more, almost hooked to all the strength witnessed inside them even if that power had been displayed to defeat him. Wikus considered the possibility of saying something else, anything really, to delay his departure. Perhaps a cheer for her to cure his traveling companion or another apology for his own behavior, but Kavala needed none of those. And so, Wikus simply stood up and, with the same calm gait he had arrived with, he now departed.

Secret :

I suppose that's a wrap!. Thank you very much for taking the time to thread with me. Reading back on what I've posted I'm somewhat dissapointed with myself, not even close to your level. Excellent writing! I really enjoyed threading with you.

[Konrad Venger]

Nice job! Your work has pleased The Sloth! Kavala XP: Logic - 1 Cooking - 1 Beekeeping - 2 Persuasion - 1 Lore: Animal Husbandry: Bleeding an Abscess Wikus: Unusual Yet Fascinating The Djed Storm: Mother of Madness Teaching: Sometimes Accidental Wikus XP: Observation - 3 Webbing - 1 Socialization - 1 Beekeeping - 1 Lore: Socialization: Never Easy Woldflowers: Hardy But Modest Beekeeping: The Importance of The Queen Kavala: Kindness Incarnate Click Me! : I was kinda stumped on what to award you guys for this. It meandered from veterinary to conversing to food to bees to Stroppy Wikus with alarming speed. But you both stayed admirably in-character the whole time, and it was a wonderful contrast... though I wouldn't push Kavala's Sweet-Girl routine too far... Oh, and please make sure you go back and edit your post in the Request Thread to reflect the fact this one is now done and dusted. PM me with any questions and later 'tater!