Diamonds In The Rough

[Rufio]

7th winter 516 av
8 bells, calm with a storm later
stormblood pavilion

　　　　 scrape, scrape, scrape.

　　　　　　　　　　　　Softly the sound of kopis blade scratching against bone was bade, as Rufio sat on a fur in front of the cracking morning fire. Across her folded knees was laid a rather impressive deer-antler, sharp prongs branching off the tawny piece. The Stormblood was whittling at the tips of these with a kopis.

The wilderness blade held securely by its handle in her right hand, while the tip of the sharp steel she nestled against her left fingers, which laid flat. This gave her the leverage she needed, with control of the millimeters to its desired angle. With tentative movements, the Drykas pressed the edge in against the antler, before gently, slowly, grazing the bone.

　　　　　　　　Carving slithers off, shaving the tips sharp. Most Drykas might have purposed the antler into jewellery beads, or handles for tools and blades, or hollowed it out to make a drinking horn, or even just hung it, decoratively, above a bed in a pavilion. This antler had served Rufio once before in another way, though, so here she sat this morning, forging it into a weapon, of odd sorts.

　　　"What you making, Ruff?"

　　　　　　　Asked a familiar male voice, and Rufio looked up to find Lodai peering down at her curiously. His weapons leaning in a pile at his booted feet, furs thrown off his shoulders in the unseasonable Winter warmth. Syna's morning glow catching in his course braids, throwing shadows into his scruff. He drank thirstily from a cup of milk in the quiet interim as Rufio appraised the imposing warrior.

"A weapon..." The fortune-teller answered simply, setting down her kopis at her side before gingerly pricking her thumb against the sharp point of the top-most antler prong. Feeling the push of it into her flesh, yet not pressing enough to draw blood, she smiled. Satisfied by the progress of her work, even a little uneven.

"With that hunk of junk?" Lodai smirked, clearly amused, teasing and playful. So Rufio narrowed her ochre gaze up at him, Syna glinting off the gold ring in her nose and dappling across her freckles.

With gestures of challenge in her sign, she defended her precious antler. "This hunk of bone will stick you like a hog once I'm finished with it." A hint of pride mingled with the Shiber-tinge that whispered melodically beneath her Pavi. The warrior quirked a thick, dark brow and "mhmm-ed" unconvinced.

"Don't you have zibri to watch instead?" Rufio shooed him with a wave of her hands, before picking up a cup of water sitting by her bare feet. Sweat licked at her tawny limbs, even though she had dressed herself scantily in a mustard scarf tied about her thighs as a skirt and a fringed crochet vest.

Lodai chuckled. "Alright, Ruff-tough. I'll be back later, see if your skinny horn is a match for my falx then, eh?" With a heave in his thick arms, the warrior lifted his weapons and turned to start his shift with The Watch. As he did, however, "Ruff-tough" felt mischief grasp her (sanity).

With a sudden jerk of her arms, the antler gripped neatly against her palms, the fortune-teller jabbed Lodai's backside with a pointy antler prong!

" o i - !"

　　　　　Tinder to a spark started,　　　　Rufio was already off her butt , she leaped around the low fire in an awkward hop-and-skip, feeling a back-wind tug through her cropped messy-braids as she tucked her feet up against herself, putting a safer distance between her and the Watchman. Standing, wide-stanced on the other side of the hearth, she gripped her antler and retorted childishly. "Told ya!"

Lodai's dark orbs beheld a wily grin amid those freckled features with indignant surprise. Caught off guard, as if not knowing what to do at first, he stared at Rufio. Who waved her antler weapon like a sword menacingly, tauntingly.

　　　　　　　　　　　　　"You are d e a d, my friend!" Lodai growled, temper playful. He dropped his weapons with a dull clank to the ground. He lunged around the fire. Rufio cried out in alarm. She had not really thought this strategy through, at all.

　　　　　　Nearly half-a-Rufio-taller than her, Lodai closed the distance before she could even think of running. A large, rough hand found purchase on the antler, holding it out of the way where prongs could not prod painfully. His other hand grabbed Rufio's forearm, and with utter power of brawn, wrenched her clasp free from the bone-weapon.

Caught in a bear-grip, Rufio dug her heels into the dirt. With all her might poured into her shoulders and biceps, she pushed back. Feeling her heart thudding, her cheeks flushed. Straining against a force much larger, stronger than her. Her teeth clenched and her nose wrinkled in a grimace of pure effort.

Semele gave way beneath her heels and she felt herself sliding backwards. The muscles and sinews in her shoulders flooded with heat, as if someone placed hot stones against the bones. Her abdomen was taut and tensed, burning pleasantly. She gripped his forearm with her free hand, hoping to gain leverage with the purchase on a limb of his.

　　　　　　Wrestled back
　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　at him with all
　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　her might.

　　　He moved not an inch.

Sweat licked down Rufio's cheek, even as Lodai's chest vibrated with a chuckle. "Give in, Rufio, you're just too small." He teased Her sweet face twisted into an ugly grimace, pride no longer caring for vanity. She grumbled and then cried out playfully defiant.

"NEVER!"

It spurred another chuckle from the bear, and Rufio chided him between her panting breaths. "Thought- you- had- cows- to- see- your- lovers- are- waiting- for- you-!" Low blow.

Lodai laughed, sensing her defeat imminent in the desperation of her taunt. Her biceps were shaking now, her feet skidding in the dirt, as she struggled to grapple. He relented. "Alright, alright."

Rufio, having thrown her weight into the wrestle, nearly lost her balance and almost fell flat over onto her face. Flash-thinking—she stuck out her aching arms and her palms braced Semele's soft body, a gentler landing. She stayed that way a tick or two, panting for breath, pink flushed beneath her freckles.

　　　　　　　　　The warrior, meanwhile, strapped on his weapons and whistled for his strider. He waved to her as he left atop his midnight mount, Atavan, still grinning. Rufio waved him off, and chuckled to herself. Bracing her palms against her knees, she straightened up, feeling popping sensations in her back, and a pleasant lightness quiver in her limbs now they were no longer trying to wrestle an unmovable Lodai.

It was then her ochre gaze alighted
on familiar star-lit eyes.

　　

[Azmere]

There’s a reason that one can find a person responsible for making decisions in a position of observance that is removed from the action. Simply put- that reason is perspective. Azmere sat atop Skylla and watched as one of his family sat near the fire and whittled away at an aged antler. Many ankals might chide the woman for wasting time. There were always chores to be done and wearing down an old hunting trophy was hardly an efficient use of time.

Perspective.

Azmere was not angry with the young woman. He knew the significance of the bone weapon and how the freckled girl had defended not only her own life but the life of a strider as well with that very fragment of a deer. The right side of the watchman’s face rose with general satisfaction to see Rufio freely give a hard time to Lodai. The bearman could always use a little more humility and grace which weren’t often things that could be readily found upon the Sea of Grass. Fortunately, the big oaf’s natural response to someone like Rufio was a playful banter. Known only to a few, this child-like behavior was held in place by deeply seeded beliefs that engaging those who have gained his respect on their terms was important. In Rufio’s case, it meant taking time to play around. The girl lost. She always did but did so with enthusiasm and a constant optimism that someday she would win. That attitude was precisely why the archer had allotted some time to train his fortune teller.

Rufio was the spiritual connection of the pavilion. Fervent in her prayers and devout in her art, the lithe woman with her messy hair had endeared herself to Azmere more through these things than her light-hearted approach to life. While the archer loved that trait, he also knew than Rufio wasn’t always going to be in the presence of someone like Lodai or Ixzo who could protect her; she needed to be able to rely on herself for such things. Azmere had witnessed her stubbornness when he had found her wandering back from Wanah’ite. He also knew from faint whispers that something bad had happened to Rufio which led to her bond with Ixzo. It was not his place to pry details but being observant was simply in his nature…he was, after all, a Watchman.

The Drykas used his hip flexors to squeeze just slightly against the flanks of his strider. The muscular response was brief but done twice as a signal that the mare needed to respond. Azmere’s thinking was simple; one action could be a chill or a mistake but two was clearly intentional. It’s the same reason he used two snaps or three clicks with Grey. Skylla recognized the command of her rider and began to move forward at a light trot. The young mare was wild and walked next to never even when she was urged to do so. As Lodai rode off, Azmere rode up and met his gaze with the mischievous stare of Rufio. The twinkle behind them was enough to tell the archer that he had picked a decent day for his session. He signed a simple greeting then bent his fingers to pose a question. “I have something I want to show you.” The man’s voice was flat and nonchalant as usual. His eyes reflected nothing in the way of what he had in mind for their outing but with so many colors one could easily become distracted or lose focus.

Azmere waited a moment for Rufio to gather herself and he would do his best to walk Skylla up to the area where the Stormbloods kept their horses. It was here that their party grew in number for Nyne and Zora were hiding in the tall reeds staring at the goats. Nyne’s training and Grey’s presence were the only things keeping the unpredictable huntress from snatching one of the annoying grass munchers for a snack. He quickly dismounted and ignored the pain that shot up his left leg and side. He moved into the realm of the big cats and approached his palms facing down and extended out. The Drykas slowly slid his weathered fingers against the smooth fur of Nyne’s head and scratched at the base of the feline’s ears. He signed journey to the male then turned his attention to Zora. Nyne rose up on all fours then rocked his body backwards in a stretch that brought his narrow chest to the ground. The hunter’s mouth opened in a big yawn which revealed his sharp white teeth. Azmere took hold of the long leash that was tethered to the nearby pavilion and followed it up to Zora’s neck. He knelt down in front of her and scratched under her chin –a gesture she loved and leaned into for full affect. The man rose and signed the word journey once more then followed the leather lead back to where it was tied. He undid the knot and slipped the loop on his wrist. Once he mounted his strider, he twisted the loop into two then hooked it around his yvas handle. Even though the yvas wasn’t fixed to the horse, the weight of the piece and the loaded bags was enough to keep the cat from getting away.

By this time, Rufio was ready and the ankal flashed a quick sign that it was time to go. He urged Skylla forward and the mare left at a brisk gallop. A tug of the leash brought Zora along and the trained Nyne knew enough to simply follow off to the side of the horse and rider. Azmere led them all away from the city and out into the dried grasses of the steppe. They rode for almost half a bell when the watchman had found the spot he had discovered earlier. It was a gentle hill that rose up and provided a line of sight for miles in every direction. The hill’s base had a small gash of water where a creek used to run and supported a wider variety of vegetation than a lot of the surrounding area. The presence of water also meant that there would be some small game around which is why the cats were tapped for this mission and not Grey. The Drykas coasted his strider to a stop at the hill’s crest then dismounted. He pulled the leash up hand over hand until Zora was standing before him. His eyes scanned the swaying grasses and soon made contact with the fiery eyes of Nyne. The male remained aloof but attentive. Seeing this, the ankal held Zora’s choker so she had to look at him. He signed hunt then released her from the leash. The ankal made the same sign at Nyne. The female instinctively went to stand near her mate who had acknowledged his order by clicking his jaw. That was it. The big cats slunk off with the breezes and would not return for some time unless Caiyha was near and the hunt would be easy. This season had been anything but easy.

Azmere turned his attention to Rufio. He pulled the yvas and its bags from Skylla’s back and set them roughly in the grass. The big man strode towards her with his slight limp. When he was just outside of arm’s reach he signed for her to defend herself. There was no hesitation. The watchman took a step forward with his left that cut the distance between them in half. His left hand led out as if to grab her by the neck. It was fast and direct but the right came low to grasp her hands as they would undoubtedly rise towards her face in what the warrior was expecting to be her natural response. Azmere’s left hand was purely a diversion. The movement of his right hand was a power play for quick control in the fight. If he happened to miss her arms, the right hand would continue forward in a flat jab instead.

Textbox courtesy of Firenze

[Rufio]

　　

　　　　“ i have something I want to show you.”

　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　The Ankal said, and Rufio's shy mischief was replaced by curious anticipation as she acquiesced. Obeying without a jabber of questions, she dashed off to fetch gear. She wondered what it was he had in mind.

　　　　　　　　The spontaneity of it reflected in her mood as she chose to take to riding bareback, so she forwent yvas and yvas bags. With a musing hum she picked up short line of rope. A hemp sack fashioned into a shoulder pack by a leather throng stowed waterskin, flint and steel, rope, eating knife, the bare necessities.

Striding back out into Syna's unusual Winter warmth, Rufio tossed her growing fringe from her eyes and rose her fingers to her lips.

She whistled for her strider, Loha, who was grazing. The red-dun rose his curved face towards her, as did the other horses, so Rufio beckoned. Come. "Loha!"

The stallion tossed his head and neighed in good spirit, before cantering over, enthusiastic. "Wo-ah, wo-!" Rufio laughed, face scrunching as the stallion huffed air into her face.

As the stallion settled himself, the fortune-teller took a short length of rope from the hemp sack and wound it into a circle, tying the ends together. This she tossed over Loha's head, a loose yvas.

As the stallion quivered his shoulders at the rope, tossing his head some more, Rufio ran her fingers over his shoulder. Brushing her hands over his hide roughly, dislodging the dry dusts of the sun-baked steppe before she jumped and heaved herself up onto his back.

Taking hold of the rope, Rufio settled herself. Letting her legs hang down loose and straight, she lifted her butt lightly and carried her weight forward in the lean of her hips. Loha's ears pricked and he quit his fussing.

With a gentle tense of her thighs and a click of her tongue against her teeth, the strider ambled forward. Ochre gaze turned towards the Ankal, who was re-mounting after tying the cat to the pommel of his steed's yvas.

　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　When he signed it was time to go, Rufio's lips parted and she took in a breath as if to ask where. So it was surprise that danced into her freckles as Ankal and mare took to a gallop. Her excitement bubbled over into her grin, and she rocked her weight into her hips, stretched her spine skyward and squeezed with her thighs.

"Hyha!-" Loha let out a shrill neigh, lunging into a gallop. Rufio clung tightly to the rope around his neck, a fistful of his thick mane in one hand too. Her arms and sides ached as the ride went, though she minded not a bit.

Wind tugged through her hair, rippling across her caramel skin, buffeting her face so she had to squint. Her heart raced with the horses'. Ochre gaze fixed on the Ankal ahead, the mane and tail of his mount flaying the dust behind him, the cats racing gracefully alongside the thundering hooves. Rufio resisted the urge to challenge him to a race.

Wisdom stole into her thoughts with common sense. She was not nearly as skilled a rider, with her stiffly clinging limbs, iffy balance and lack of command of the stallion, who Rufio was glad picked even dirt and made long his strides to ease the jostle of his gait.

As the Ankal slowed, Loha followed suite. His fast-paced gait returned to a four-thudding walk. Rufio panted as she let the tension in her limbs ebb. With an appraising gaze the fortune-teller took in the trickling creek and the gently rolling hill.

Seeing the Ankal dismount Rufio did too, patting Loha's shoulder loudly before he wandered down towards the water. Rufio watched as master grasped the feline's collar. Disquiet settled on her as she took in the firm, steady hand with which he commanded the animals. The felines slunk away, a whisper in the grasses.

　　　　　　　　　　　　When the Ankal's attentions turned to her, Rufio almost felt like the felines, awaiting some command. Suspense in the air, she felt it crackle lightly in her bones.

As he strode toward her, her head cocked lightly, wondering what he was to show her. When suddenly defend yourself forewarned a flutter of his sign.

Not forewarning enough for Rufio's slow, untrained senses. As his hand reached out menacingly, her breathed sucked in, sharp. Surprise flashed vividly across her face.

Startled, she whipped up her hands to grasp his wrist, or swipe his hand away. Predictable. Instead Rufio felt calloused hands grip her wrists. Something like alarm spiked in her gut. Instinctively, she leaned her weight back, tried to tug her hands free. It didn't break the Ankal's hold.

　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　Rufio felt the strength he had cultivated in his body, as if he were made of stone.

The fortune-teller's brow furrowed and she tugged a second time, this time pulling with her strength in her shoulders, feeling the tautness in her biceps as they strained. All this within a few ticks.

When a smile flickered into her features it reached into her ochre gaze with a playful air. Her Shiber-tinged Pavi asked. "What are you doing?"

　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　Another Ankal, another man's hands gripped around hers—Rufio might have felt fear lick at her, felt she might have been in serious danger.

　　　　 a rabbit with a wolf—
　　　　　　　　　　　　　　intentions to hurt her.

　　　　　　　　With this Ankal, and this man's hands, as strong and rough as they were,
　　　　though,
　　　　　　　　such fears quelled before even lit.

　　　　　　　　　　　　　　With another, Rufio would feel that spark of fear for the briefest of ticks, before that deeply quiet anger, laid cold like lava-rock beneath the surface of that calm spirit, would roil a fiery temper into her.

　　　　　　With this Ankal, though, she chuckled. Believed herself wholly safe in this man's paws. a cub with an alpha.

She tugged on her arms a third time—this time shoving her weight forward to force his arms to bend at his elbows, before wrenching her arms backward with a hard yank.

Knowing it would do no good, doing it anyway because she didn't know what else to be done. Her wrists hurt with her efforts and she huffed her frustration.

A fleeting thought to drop like dead weight, make his prey awkward and cumbersome, flitted idly at the edges of her wits. Wait and see. Her thoughts whispered back to Instinct, bidding patience.

She looked up into Azmere's scarred face, puzzlement and curiosity tinged with query set in hers.
　　

[Azmere]

Azmere felt his arms tighten as his hands remained clamped onto the wrists of his charge. Rufio was always play-fighting with Lodai but that wouldn’t suffice on its own. The girl had been captured once that Azmere was aware but he had heard that there was another instance in her past where she had been overwhelmed. All of these things made him angry. It made the ankal mad because he couldn’t protect her. Rufio was a sweet girl and even though the first instance was outside of his control, the man still felt responsible.

The struggling of the young woman caused wave of strain to tug at his arms. Azmere compensated by timing his exertions since the attempts to pull away was somewhat rhythmic. He flexed his biceps and engaged the muscles across his back each time in reaction to Rufio. The ripple was felt against his frame but she simply wasn’t a match. Grey offered more of a struggle most days. When the ochre eyes settled on his own after the brief foray into resistance, the watchman was ready to begin his lesson.

Now that her attention was focused and she was docile, he began. “When your hands are bound, use your legs.” Azmere made a gentle step with the heel of his boot onto the top of her foot. He rolled the application of pressure so that she could feel the point of her bones under his weight. “Quick. Hard.” Then he lifted his leg, leaning into her a bit for balance and placed his knee between her thighs. For this, he simply gave her a look. Anyone who has ever been in any kind of a fight –even children- know how the groin shot works. Finally, he lowered his foot and brought her arms together so she could see how his thumbs lined up when he had a hold of her wrists. The Drykas spread her arms so she could see his face again. “You can always slam your hands together if you’re fast enough.” He brought his hands back together to emphasize how the knuckles would hit one another. It didn’t always work but nothing was foolproof.

Azmere released her wrists but caught her fingers. His eyes darted to her skin to check and see if he had left bruises. It was not his intention to harm her in any way but to teach her some basic things that she could do to defend herself. He stared at Rufio. She really was a darling woman and had trouble written in freckles across her face. The warrior held his hands up as he prepared for the next lesson. His palm was vertical and he smacked it with his right hand.

“Strike.”

The archer waited for the imminent blow but the sound of a hunting cat clicking his jaws caused the man to turn his head and subsequently, his body shifted position. A set of knuckles caught him square in the cheek and pushed his flesh against the set of a clenched jaw. The motion snapped his head to the side but lacked the raw power of a seasoned fighter. With a little twinkle in his eye, Azmere looked at Rufio with his half smile. He put his finger against his lips to encourage silence then quickstepped to his gear.

Azmere grabbed Vihar and a fistful of arrows from the quiver. He glanced over his shoulder as he knelt to check on Rufio. The starlit gaze didn’t linger long as the clicking sound repeated across the tops of the grass. It was Zora. Nyne had the instinct trained out of him –so Azmere had been told. However, the wild female was pure grassland in terms of her behavior so there were some perks to it. The archer closed his eyes for a moment and drew up the djed from within his body. He pushed it against the broken colors of his stare and when he peeled back the lids, the stars seemed to be alive.

First, he looked at his ward. She was bathed in a light that looked like copper; a faint swirl of earthen mischief that suited her well. Next, the watchman turned his gaze towards the sounds of his hunters and quickly located a couple of horses running down the steppe. Skylla was white like snow and Loha was the color of twilight; a blue so deep it might be reminiscent of the oceans had the Drykas ever laid eyes on such unfathomable depths. The broken trails of blue and white seemed to almost weave a stitch across the landscape. Then the fragmented clicking made itself apparent a third time. The djed-laden gaze shifted to the origin of the sound and caught sight of two long and lean figures stalking slowly through the high stalks of grass. Nyne was the color of his eyes and easy to track while Zora was an olive green that blended well with the half-dead foliage. Patches of the two predators dotted the lower hillside and didn’t paint a very clear picture of their habits or direction but their proximity allowed Azmere to find them easily.

He motioned for Rufio to follow and the ankal headed down the hill in a crouched run that led him in a bit of an arc. It was no secret that he had wounds and the scar tissue in his thigh ached with every stressful step but it wasn’t something he would show. As he ran, the warrior loaded an arrow and held half tension on the knocked shaft. The way he pressed his thumb against the arrow and into his knuckle was different from most people but it served him well. It was also easier to balance which made carrying arrows in the same hand as his bow easier.

The glittering eyes bounced from crevice to rock and noted tracks in the dirt but Azmere hadn’t the knowledge of critters like some others. He could see his own animals’ tracks clearly but the broken line of a small hoof meant little to the Watchman. He saw the tracks turn in a circle but keep the original path. That let him know that the creature was likely scared. After a dozen more steps, he saw two very deep prints and knelt to study them. Wisps of djed rose like smoke from the impressions and it was this yellow color that Azmere used to hone in his pathfinding. He looked ahead to see the fiery orange of Nyne very near to a smoldering pile of yellow. The predator and prey had come to a standstill.

Azmere moved more carefully now and made better use of his steps in an effort to make less noise. He tried to avoid the base of stalks and bunches of grass. The Drykas watched the saga before him as the moving blades danced along an olive form that circled behind the yellow shape. Within range of his bow, now, the man rose just above the grasses and peered from side to side to see where Rufio had gone. The archer suddenly realized that she could not see what he did and hoped he didn’t leave her behind.

Textbox courtesy of Firenze

[Rufio]

　　
　　　　
" when your hands are bound, use your legs.” Bade the Ankal’s wisdom. Rufio’s brow deepened as his hands—bear paws—tightened to just-not-yet-pain.

As he drew his foot up she sensed the hue of tutelage in the lay of his voice and resisted the urge to step aside. “Quick. Hard.” When he lifted his leg and placed his knee between her thighs, her ochre gaze widened with surprise. Yeah, THAT would hurt.

Where laughter would have tumbled off her lips instead her cheeks flushed. So unlike Rufio to feel shy. It was fleeting, as the Ankal drew their hands together, his knuckles touching gently. “You can always slam your hands together if you’re fast enough.” Rufio visibly winced, empathizing with a phantom attacker whose knuckles would collide bone-on-bone in that swift move.

A breath huffed past her lips as the Ankal released her hands at last. Though she did notice the way that he kept her fingers in his paws. The way his eyes swept over her wrists, and the flicker of concern etched between his scars.

He worried about hurting her. The half-Drykas rocked her shoulders back at that and she tossed her fringe. I am tougher than I look her posture said.

Then the sound of his fist meeting the flat of his palm drew her into a daring mood. “Strike.” His words drew a grin into her freckles. Rufio did not hesitate.

Sweeping her left foot back a bit, her right arm following the movement, she threw her weight towards him, wrenching her tightly closed fist, thumb wrapped neatly around her enclosed fingers, through the humid air in the natural arc of her reach— smack!

Rufio staggered back from the impact, shaking out her hand with a grimace, panting lightly. Her ochre eyes alive with the spirit of a fight. That thrill rippling through her from where the will to survive was coiled in all Drykas, and she laughed.

As Azmere half-smiled, a twinkle in those star-lit eyes, Rufio narrowed her gaze at him. Her hand likely stung worse than his cheek. That stung her pride a little. Grow stronger she chided herself.

As her laughter subdued her gaze appraised Azmere’s hulking form. Her lips parted, drawing in breath to ask how she might grow as strong but the Ankal bade her hush and stepped away.

Curiosity stole into her freckles as he motioned for her to follow. She did, taking to a mid-crouch as she chased on his heels into the scrub. Rustling gently, as if they were a wind rippling through the dry grasses.

With the chase, her gaze danced to Azmere’s back, to the rocks and shrubs about them, to the path ahead. She noticed the way the grasses were bent into a pathway of sorts where the felines had slunk by. As Azmere knocked an arrow to his bow, Rufio’s heart hitched a little. So, they hunted.

With that, Rufio almost felt herself hold her breath, treading more lightly, her gaze falling to Semele. Sighting loose stones and grit and dry roots, she picked around these, her hands hovering lightly to balance herself, making herself a quieter shadow.

As she watched where she stepped, she began to lose the bowman. Veering off to her own path, she found herself surrounded by grasses and woody sage shrubs. So, she halted for a tick to crouch where she was and cocked her head to listen.

She felt her breaths, heard the whisper of the grasses in the gentle breeze and the soft lullaby of the river just out a ways. As she listened, she couldn’t hear the archer. With a furrowed brow she wondered if she should stand and let him see her.

He’ll lose the game if it sees. With a huff of her cheeks, she decided to wait and listen. As the ticks passed by, she found herself drawn nearer to the sage bush. Her hands picked at the long leaves, feeling the roughness of the woody stems.

With a furrow of her brow, the forager realised she had no pockets or burlap to collect the sage in. It took just a tick of pondering for her gaze to fall to her feet, perched as she was, the pads of her feet pressed into the dry, cracked dirt.

Solution wound in the leather thong that was wrapped around her right ankle, decorated by a single wood button. Setting down the sage for a moment, with nimble fingers she untied the leather and wrapped it around the heft of gathered herbs.

When suddenly, Rufio heard the mewling of a feline beyond the grasses to her left. Startled, her face lifted towards the noise and Rufio made herself still. Listening intently, the half-Drykas took in the pitch of the feline growl.

Relief closed her eyes for a moment and she sighed. It was at least twenty paces away. Though she wondered what the cat was stalking. She decided it was best not to move, not to frighten whatever game the feline had found...or draw it near.

Still crouched, her back straightened lightly as she peered at the brush and grasses around her, seeking sign of Azmere. Syna caught her nose-ring, Her rays gently searing the tops of the half-Drykas’ shoulders, painting pink across her caramel hue.

She did not see the archer, nor sign of him. Taking in a breath, Rufio cupped her hands around her jaw and puckered her lips. On her breath out, she cooed like the soft, plump pigeon hoping Azmere would hear the call and know it was hers. Here I am.

When suddenly, grasses rustled closer by the hunkered half-Drykas. Rufio sucked in a breath mid-coo, hands hovering by her lips, as she turned towards it with bated breath. Trying to listen, to discern what creature might be among the grasses with her.

　　

[Rufio]

　　
　　　　
　　 a low, throaty growl rumbled in the brush.

Rufio felt her heart hitch, and froze. The grasses ruffled. The half-drykas pulled up her hands, as if she readied to wrestle whatever it was that would burst from the blades; she was quivering. Something hot and fierce flushed her veins and turned her shoulders and arms into pulsing stone—adrenaline rushing.

　　The growl vibrated into a yowl, and Rufio's brows shot up in surprise as a spotted, slender feline plunged out from the cover of the swaying grasses and lunged past her. Toppled over with a cry, Rufio caught sight of the furry, fleeting feline as she whipped past, and recognized those ferocious eyes—Zora.

Hot on her black-fur tipped tail was Nyne, and, as Rufio regained herself, rolling onto her hands and knees, the felines stood at the other side of the small clearing, eyeing her with impish pride and aloof judgement. The half-drykas sat panting, a grin seeping into her freckles. So, her pigeon call had been authentic enough to fool two hunting cats, at least.

With a swish of their tails, the felines sauntered off with their wounded pride stiffening their strides. The half-drykas glanced about her, seeking out real danger. When she found the quiet of the steppe greeting her amidst the babbling of the river, relief flooded into her, rain sweeping away the fiery embers of tension.

　　　　Laughter bubbled off her lips, and she cussed herself, cultakh. Pink flourished under her freckles as she rose steadily to her feet, sure that her ankal, Azmere, Ra'athi of The Watch and stoic warrior, had seen or heard her surprised tiff with his hunting cats...
　　

[Kayak]

 

Rufio

Skills
Carving: 1
Intimidation: 1
Weapon ("Antler Sword"): 1
Unarmed Combat: 3
Grooming: 1
Riding (Horse): 1
Observation: 2
Bodybuilding: 1
Stealth: 1
Foraging: 1
Hunting: 1

Lores
Unarmed Combat: Opponents with more weight are hard to pull to the ground
Riding Command: Thigh tense + tongue click; To go forward
Riding Command: "Hyah"; To gallop
I'm safe with Azmere
Unarmed Combat: "When your hands are bound, use your legs."
Unarmed Combat: Groin is an optimal target for kicks
Unarmed Combat: Top of foot is an optimal target for a heel stomp
Azmere: Appreciates a blow well landed
Hunting: Pigeon coos will lure away hunting cats
Miscellaneous
1oz fresh sage leaves

 

Notes and Comments

CS Checkmarked: ✓
CS Reviewed by Me: ✓
Season Request was Submitted for Grade: Summer 517
Season Thread was Started (IC & OOC): Winter 516 & Winter 516
Is that Season's expenses paid?: ✓
Eligible for grade? Yes

 

Azmere

Skills
Leadership: 1
Animal Husbandry: 1
Unarmed Combat: 2
Teaching: 1
Pathfinding: 1
Tracking: 1
Stealth: 1
Lores
Perspective: The value of allowing a subordinate to revel in victory well fought
Rufio: Needs to be self reliant for protection
Rumor: Something bad happened during Rufio's bonding with Ixzo
Personal Failure: I wasn't strong enough to keep Rufio safe
Hunting: Bringing the proper animals for the desired prey
Tracking: A circling animal is likely scared
Azmere: Sometimes I forget others can't see what I can see

Miscellaneous

 

Notes and Comments

CS Checkmarked: ✓
CS Reviewed by Me: ✓
Season Request was Submitted for Grade: Summer 517
Season Thread was Started (IC & OOC): Winter 516 & Winter 516
Is that Season's expenses paid?: ✓
Eligible for grade? Yes

Short little thread, would've liked to see it play out to its full finish. One small point of concern, was Rufio's hitting Azmere in the face planned out by both of you before hand? It felt a bit too presumptuous of an assumption as a third party observer. Over all well done both of you.

Side note: I love watching y'all do Pavi. It's a fun feel.

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