Surviving is Not Fine Dining [Open]

[Behn]

Timestamp: 65th of Winter, AV 510 It wasn't often that people visited Behn. No, actually that was quite incorrect. It wasn't often that somebody stumbled upon Behn's existence. Living out in the Wildlands by his own choice, far from roads or commonly traveled paths, Behn picked a life of solitude. Silence from the human world, despite having civilizations within a few days' walk of wherever he was. There wasn't much Behn missed when he was out in the wild. Occasionally he missed his family, his wife left him though, taking their two sons with her. Occasionally he missed human contact, just the simple conversations that people could hold, keeping you preoccupied and helping you forget how alone you really were. Most of all, he often missed the cooking. Professionals that truly understood how to not only cook a meal, but make it taste wonderful. Behnn was a survivor by nature, by tenacity, but a cook by no means. Even now the man sat outside, cross-legged, and watched with rock-solid patience as his pot of water was heating up over a small wood fire. Inside the pot was a mixture of meat, not a lot of it, but enough for a meal. There was a little rabbit, a lot of some fish he managed to gather up after spending far too much time chasing them down in a pond, and a tiny bit of salt snagged from his preservation kit. Not suggested perhaps, but he'd never miss it. Behn looked into the pot with his cold brown-eyes gaze. Just waiting for the water to boil, waiting for the crudely diced meat and poorly cut fish to cook until it was safe to ingest. It would have been faster to burn the meat over open fire, but a stew sounded better than the trouble sounded bad. Behn couldn't claim that his little experiment smelled much better than he assumed it tasted, but he learned long ago that taste only went so far. The food itself, the nutrients, that was all there, that's what was needed. Behn would have done quite a bit for some onions, some carrots and tomatoes, and spices of some kind. But wishful thinking was dangerous. You could want certain things, that was allowed. But by Behn's rules, you couldn't obsess over them, that's when you stopped obsessing over what was important, really surviving. Behn took his knife, the one used for eating and, in this case, carving up the critters (he needed a real hunting knife sorely), and stirred the pot slowly. The water began to show signs of small bubbles. Behn sighed with relief, knowing that boiling water wasn't too much longer. If his mother were here, she'd scold him to watching the pot. Something about some myth that if you watched for it to boil, it never would. Chuckling lightly, he had to shake his head at dear ol' mum's lingering voice. Apparently she had been wrong. It was already getting there.

[Alabaster Reymon]

The wilderness seemed so vast when one was traveling it alone. Not only that but the darkness so deep, every shadow darker, every noise louder, and everything just that much more crisp, more noticeable, that much more dangerous, but in the search of knowledge one needn’t not fear danger. No, danger is just part of the life of an adventurer, but more importantly of an archeologist, a preserver of the past and discover of lost knowledge. Though he wasn’t near any known ruins he has been off the beaten trail all day, and for good reason. He needed to find his way around, make a mental map so to say, so next time he comes this way he will be better prepared. Knowledge and the secrets of the land is what he was after this day. Knowledge well known by some, but unknown by him, and, besides, knowledge of the land will be very useful. The self-proclaimed archeologist wasn’t an imposing figure at all, his red cloak making him look more of a specter than anything. Using his quarterstaff as a walking stick he traversed the rough terrain that was the wilderness, and knew against the bigger things, beasts, that were outlined in his fathers journal his staff would be snapped like a twig, but then again to his knowledge, which was so slim compared to his fathers, these things only exist in a place unreachable without the helping hand of magic. Though he was no fool and respected the wilderness for what it was. It sure had its fair share of danger, but where there is danger there usually is a high reward, and that reward being knowledge, and with knowledge comes power. Knowledge is power. That is something that he was always told growing up, and something that he held and felt that it was one of the truths of the universe. He tried so hard to follow in his families footsteps, his fathers footsteps, to uncover the mysteries of the world and the universe. The journal is the only written account, which he knows of, that contains his families discoveries and history. As such should be protected as such and maybe, when he finds something worth writing down, continue and mark his place in his families history. That was one of his goals in life, and one that he has been working towards for a while now. It seemed like yesterday when he first glanced over the pages of the journal, for lack of better word, and although its not with him now, the teachings and what it tries to instill in the generations to come, its knowledge, well parts of it because he hasn’t exactly finished reading it, travels with him. Upon thinking, meditating, getting lost in his own thoughts he stumbled into the smell of something… He couldn’t quite tell what it was, but it smelled, well, interesting at best. Now fully coming back to reality he followed the sent lingering on the breeze that had just past. His thoughts now far behind him, left where he had awaken, it would seem that nothing can really keep his attention for long at all because of the smell of that something that smelled an awful lot like something edible. What can one say? When they haven’t eaten basically all day they are bound to be hungry. It could easily be something else but he was willing to take the chance. As he neared the location, the focal point, of where the smell was coming from he started having second thoughts. Much like he does often, he has now realized that second thoughts, these doubts, mean that he hasn’t fully thought something through, which depending on the situation could be good or bad. In this case he wasn’t too sure. It could be anyone cooking, and it could be anything that was really cooking. The smell of fish was unfamiliar to him, and in his childhood any kind of real quality meat was a rarity and quite a treat. He didn’t come from a wealthy family, or really the healthiest one, but when it came down to it he was fed, and fed well. And although the second thoughts of danger and what could happen was plaguing him he still traveled onward. For getting a little something tonight was better than nothing. That simple true statement couldn’t be any truer than used in this situation here and now. A slight, rather nervous smile spread across his face as he stepped more towards the little place that was set up. His steps loud, on purpose, he sure didn’t want to sneak up on someone and be attacked just for frightening them. Little more thought came to his mind as he took another loud step, hopefully being heard, as he mentally prepared himself to be questioned by an untrusting stranger. Somewhere in the back of his mind he wondered how interesting this person was, and already was making a mental image of who it could possible be based off of the smell of the cooking. Obviously, he thought, it had to be guy. He knew that based off of the smell. For he knew, without a doubt, that a girl could make a way better meal than whatever he was cooking. Assumptions can get people in trouble, but Alabaster was the assuming kind of person. Sometimes he was right, others way off. Time will tell, as it always has, if he was right or wrong. Assuming, guessing, was always an interesting game to play, so long as you are right. Its funny how things quickly lose interest when you lose constantly.

[Behn]

Behn continued his diligent watch over the boiling water, the cooking fish and rabbit meat combination that was most likely of a quality that even the poorest of beggars couldn't stand to consume. The man did not turn away in dismay though. Food was food, and he had caught this food. A snare for one half, and a few hours chasing shadows in a pond with his spear for the other, and Behn was a firm believer that food you caught and cooked with your own hands nourished better, tasted superior, and lifted your spirits like nobody else's could. Behn prodded and stirred with that knife for several moments before jerking his hand backwards, flinging his knife several meters away. "Petch!" Behn hissed at himself as he stood up, cradling his hand against his dirt-caked shirt. Being the inexperienced chef he was, he managed to splash a considerable amount of molten hot water on his hand, hence the illogicaly urge to flail and throw his knife. Behn was quick to retrieve the knife and return to his pot. Crunch! The knife dropped and Behn picked up his bow. Seconds later he had an arrow notched into the string, ready to fire at a moments notice. But no, he didn't sit there and wait for whatever was stalking to expose himself. He moved in the opposite direction, moving behind a considerably fat tree that was conveniently close by. Leaving the pot on the wood fire in the opening of the clearing. His cabin wouldn't be too much farther, yet Behn still stood directly in the man's way, should he take a straight path towards the quiet empty cabin, Behn's home. Behn slowly moved his head from behind the tree. If his assumptions were correct, he shouldn't have been noticed, or at the very least he would have appeared to flee. Perhaps it was some animal sniffing out his meal. Perhaps, though he doubted this, it was some bandit, a rogue, thief, or highwayman that was looking for him, or just anybody to take advantage of. Some helpless Wilderness Guide that was friendly and defenseless. Firm, sturdy, strong fingers held fast to the arrow that was loaded and ready to fire. He had not yet drawn the bow string backwards, not yet prepared to fire. That would wait until he saw the possible threat. That was after he assets the situation, and that was after he decided if it would be worth risking his life to take down whatever threat it might be. Behn winced as a young man, not even a grown man really, stepped out. He was loud as hell, obnoxiously loud. Behn had to assume that he was foolish for wandering the Wildlands with such heavy footsteps, or he was intentionally making so much sound. Why? He had no idea. Maybe some elaborate code to somebody else who was hidden, waiting to swarm and throttle Behn. Slowly, silently, the bow string was pulled back. It was a shortbow, making the full pull-back rather short and easy to maintain, bow also meant it was less lethal, would go less distance. Behn stepped out from behind the tree, this time it was not slow, but quickly, fearlessly. He had done this many times before to spook a coyote or large vicious rodents away from him, but he was always ready to shoot if they proved to be more hostile than wise. "Don't move." Even when throwing out commands, Behn was quiet. His voice was a series of sharp and intense whispers that cut through the weak breeze like a knife through soft flesh. Behn was approaching the new comer now, one step at a time, each foot was soft, intentionally so. Unlike Reymon, Behn didn't often enjoy being discovered. "You're a long ways off the roads friend. What do you want?" Aggressive. Behn held that look in his eyes that was often seen in the fiercest of warriors. A man that was as hard as stone, fearless of death, compassionate to none. He had the look in his eyes of a convict who knew he had days before he was executed, and would live each lasting day and enjoy them just because he had a few more days to live. It was the expression of a starved dog, both domestic, but by instincts made wild again.

[Alabaster Reymon]

The footsteps were indeed loud, some may say annoyingly so, but it was just him being cautious. Better to let someone know youre coming than to surprise them. He has found this true many times over. At least one had time to prepare when they knew you were coming instead of being an unpleasant surprise. It always shocked him how ticked people get when you show up unannounced, or rather how annoyed they are of the one coming over. So, using the simple logic that it was better to announce your presence than to keep it unknown his steps were rather loud. Though in this case maybe he should have been a bit more quite for when he reached the source of the food, in the opening in the woods, no one was there. No doubt heard him and went to prepare something vile, or maybe they are watching him right now as his father would do to all who stumbled upon their camps when they traveled. Though many times their camps were intertwined with magic such a various runes and shields to keep out the unwanted. Though one can never prepare for anything, anything was impossible to prepare for, but it never hurt to try… The situation could have been handled in a better way than what Alabaster had done, but everyone handles things differently and when the man came out from his hiding spot aiming the bow at him all the young man could do was grin and almost laugh as if it was funny. No, he didn’t have near the skill to block an arrow, nor did he find any of this humorous, but he couldn’t help but smile because this reminded him so much of a story that his father used to tell him when he was young; when his father ran into a wilderness man himself. Strange how they all seem to follow the stereotype that his father created for him in his mind with the many stories of adventure that he weaved almost every night, but people were right to be untrustworthy. He could be a big bad monster for all they know, in human guise, but, sadly for them, he wasn’t such a thing. Enough time had passed in silence with him just staring at the arrow, more specifically the tip of the arrow, that he decided that he better answer the question. He didn’t move, well tried not too, there were some twitches that he really couldn’t control, but it happens when he was both excited and nervous at the same time. ”What do I want?” he asked the question back. Either that or he was just trying to clarify it for himself ”Would adventure count? How about knowledge of the land? Money? Food?” He could go on, but he decided that he was pushing it with the answers of his. The laid back way that he answered the man seemed like he was no stranger to being held at weapon point and questioned. The guise, though clever, was false and just an illusion. He knew how to keep his cool and stay on task, on his objectives. “Those are all things I want, but will I get them?” He paused as he asked the question as if to give the man time to think about it before answering himself, ”Maybe” there was a slight humor carried in his voice with the maybe, ”Only time will tell, but don’t fret ‘friend’ do I look like some highwayman or mugger to you? Really” he looked down and over himself. He looked rather…. Weak, to be blunt about it, to be anything of that nature, ”I can assure you that I have no power to rob you nor do I have the will. You see I found this place while… exploring.” more like getting lost ”and the truth is while doing my little exploration I got, well, lost.’ he wasn’t afraid to stretch the truth or tell only half the story. ”So Im in quite the predicament,” He gave the man a casual smile. ”My name is Alabaster Reymon.” he thought it wise to introduce himself, ”I can assume you are civil, right?’ he said jokingly. Though he wasn’t always like this. Its just he has heard his fathers stories many times before and knew what his father did. He wanted to try something different, something in the other direction completely. He wanted to try what he was doing, and he thought he was doing a great job. Though, as he always said, as he always thought, time will tell all, and he fell silent waiting for a response from the man in front of him. He kept his rather cocky looking grin on his face as if he was sure the arrow wouldn’t fire. He was unsure where this confidence was coming from, but he was about positive that he wouldn’t get shot. Anything can happen, and he was aware of that, but for some reason he loved to make assumptions about the situation and the future. The guy looked like a hardened warrior, a real killer, but somehow it didn’t seem to faze him. He was either stupid, or smart for being this confident. The first being the most likely source of his words and actions.

[Behn]

Behn continued to stare down the arrow in his bow, the string was still pulled back, his hand was itchy to let the deadly projectile fly into the man's chest. That was actually the logical thing to do. With this man dead, there was no chance that he could pull a knife on him, or even be some agent of Rhysol coming to further his misery. Behn thought about it though, a long moment just to contemplate ending all thread right here. It wouldn't be hard. He was armed, this stranger was not. He had range, the stranger didn't look strong or much like a fighter at all. Yet, how could you trust anyone, especially by appearance, when you come from Ravok, when you've seen--and felt--what Behn had. He sighed heavily, listening to the man's words. Such arrogant, confident words. It pissed Behn off to hear someone talking to him like this, made him uncomfortable, felt too similar to the faces in Ravok. The one place that Behn would happily give his life to wipe out of existence. Petch Ravok. Behn shook his head slowly. He wasn't going to put up with Shyke like this. "I have nothing to offer to you. If you don't want me, then begone. Turn around, and leave the way you came. I'm not here to entertain children." Behn took a few steps closer to Reymon, making distance to shoot smaller, more accurate, and deadly. He didn't think he had to shoot, though he already decided it would be the safest route. He had been struggling with the demons in his head for years now. While trying to figure out if he even human still, he found himself willing to shoot one of his own just to ensure his own safety. That's not what a man does, that was a monster, a beast, Ravok scum did that, not Behn, he wouldn't be that. Still, his bow did not lower. Self-defense was demanded in any situation. The wild was dangerous, you simply couldn't be too careful. "I've heard that before. You'd be surprised at how many children can carry a knife, and even more surprised by how many can use them." The young man was so arrogant that it was annoying, unnerving. Behn almost fired the arrow into his chest just to make him bleed, to make his face skew in agony, to make sure this guy was a man, and not some villain or demon. Demons don't cry at pain, they only mock it. This young's voice was mocking Behn right now, despite his situation. "Highwayman or not, I don't trust you. I've no reason to, and I've got no problem killing you." Behn slowly shook his head again, a habit of him when he didn't fully buy someone's story. "People don't just explore these lands without looking for something. If you truly are this foolish, then you are lucky to be alive still. Making it home, lost or not, you might not be so." Behn continued to listen to Alabastar as he gave his excuses, whether they were true or not. He didn't believe them, but wasn't going to press the matter. He wasn't certain that if he sent the man away that he wouldn't return in the night with a knife. "You don't even understand your predicament as well as you think you do, Reymon. Sit down, or you're dead where you stand." Behn was eager to ease up on the bow, which just wasn't possible as long as Alabastar was right there, standing, easily able to charge at him. Behn was fairly confident that he could take this young man in a fight, he was taller and probably stronger, definitely older. Assuming Alabastar Reymon sat down as he was commanded, which was the safest choice given Behn's paranoid nature, Behn would ease up on the bow, no longer holding the string and arrow ready to fire. He moved across the clearing to another tree and lay his bow there, and picking up the halfspear he had rested on the ground earlier. He was going to be certain that there wasn't a single moment around this stranger where he wasn't armed and ready to kill him. "I'm civil, possibly a small flaw of mine. You are stupid, definitely a major flaw of yours, Reymon." It wasn't often that Behn talked to people, only on rare occasions in the past several years, and it was probably obvious in his commanding nature, his straight-to-the-point manner, and more than willing judgment. Behn was still staring at that smile. It felt so strange, so out of plan. He was definitely a city boy, from where didn't matter. Behn was convinced he had several 'loose screws'. Alabastar seemed to almost welcome danger, trouble. "So damn loud." Behn intentionally avoided giving his name. Until he decided what to do with Alabastar, he wanted to give him as little as possible. Especially with that grin of his. Behn didn't trust people as far as he could throw them, as the saying goes. Alabastar, he might be able to throw fairly far, but that didn't help his odds much. Behn ponted his spear towards Alabastar, despite being several meters away. "Why the petch are you smiling?"

[Alabaster Reymon]

Alabaster kept on smiling. It didn’t fade nor did he plan it to. He was having some fun, but he did realize his situation. ”You’re right. People usually are searching for something when they venture out here and I’m no exception. I’m searching for the knowledge and trying to get a lay of the land. Unfortunately getting lost wasn’t part of the plan” he attempted a laugh, but that only added to the awkwardness of the situation. He continued to stare at the bow that was poised at him and although this wasn’t exactly what was happening he was just happy he was making his own story, taking his own path, and this person was better than some monster or highwayman. He shut up just enough to hear the blunt command to sit. He stood there thinking it over and found it best to sit. That was the smartest way to go. He did have his staff but he didn’t think picking a fight would do any good. He was at a disadvantage, and that wasn’t the only reason. He just wasn’t looking for one. A fight and fighting just isn’t his style and he would do all he could to avoid fighting. Although he fight for something that was his, or he found. He would fight for knowledge of the past, a relic recovered, or some long ago machine found. He would fight for the preservation of pre-valterrain artifacts and knowledge, and that, really, besides his own self-preservation, was the only thing he found worth fighting for. A true scholar at heart indeed. “Stupid?” He laughed at the mans observation, “Some might say I’m stupid, dumb, or any other variation of the word…” He paused, “Maybe they are right. Maybe you are right. Maybe I am stupid.” he nodded in agreement still keeping that cocky smile ”Though first impressions are just that…” He paused unsure where he was going with that. So he left it at that and watched him pick up the spear. Luckily he still had his staff, though he didn’t intend to use it unless he had to against the person. Yes, he was stupid, though he had a couple tricks up his sleeve if need be. He really hoped not, but people are unpredictable. He found, at times, he could be too. “Why am I smiling?” That was a good question, a very good one. He took a moment to think it over, a long silent moment as if he wasn’t quite sure why when it came down to it. Though he did, he just liked to extend things, make things last as long as they possibly could. Silence is golden, but sometimes you can get lost in its luster and nothing ever gets accomplished. Especially when trying to have a conversation. That is, if you can call this, what is happening, a conversation. ”I’m smiling because of a memory. You remind me of someone that I once knew, and a person well told of in my fathers stories.” the truth was better than any lie. ”This whole situation seems to be following a script” he continued on, ”Like everything it already planned out, everything, every action, every reaction, every word following a master plan. Though only fools use that excuse. Only the uneducated believe that, and so they use it to comfort themselves in times of hardships and in times of great happiness they thank some force that doesn’t exist.” He was going on now with this tangent, his lecture that was unasked for, ”The truth is the world is ran by a series of random events. There are a million choices to choose from and with it a million more possibilities. There is no master plan, and even the gods, try as they might, cannot predict every future.” That was something that he believed fully and it showed in his voice. Falling silent he looked at the pot and could only guess what was cooking in it. He shifted a little to get more comfy on the ground he sat on. Now sitting cross legged with his staff leaning against his left shoulder he crossed his arms and watched the fire for a little. The smile slowly fading as the fire filled his vision. His eyes darted from the fire back to the man, who probably thought him foolish already, now more so for the fact that he took his eyes off of him, and the smile didn’t seem to come back. It was like a flip of a switch, and now he was serious, or looked it.

[Behn]

Behn was neither amused nor was he impressed by his subtle charm that might work on those of the city. On Behn, he did not find he liked him, but he didn't hate him. Alabastar gave Behn no reason to hate him just yet, and for Behn to hate someone, you had to be a bit worse than stupid and annoying, which was all Alabastar was to him at the moment. Finally though, he seemed to accept, albeit begrudgingly, the story fed to him. The spear would never leave the reach of his hands though, suspicious didn't accurately describe the level of precaution he felt was necessary. Perhaps Alabastar wasn't an immediate or direct threat, but any loud noises he continued to make definitely was troublesome. "I know I'm right. You should have a guide being out here, someone that knows what they're doing. Someone willing to look after you." Save for that last part, Behn was the perfect candidate. Willing though, that was a very significant part. He paused to spit at the ground as he paced slowly, quietly. "So, what's your plan now that you're lost, hmm?" Behn looked back to Alabastar, taking another good look at him. Besides the staff, he saw no obvious weaponry on him. He was scrawny, fairly thin at least. A typical bookworm. Behn wasn't too familiar with the bookworm type. "Lost, you and me both." Behn whispered the last part to himself as he looked upwards between the canopy of trees. Faint shimmers of sunlight were shining down on the area, a golden orange glow. Behn eased up when Alabastar obeyed his command to sit. It was his safest decision as well, as Behn would really have shot to kill the man had he tried anything. He was beginning to think there really was nothing to worry about by this man's own hands. "Stupid, yes. You shouldn't be wandering these lands when you don't have an idea what you're doing, where you are going. You may be smart, but not out here you aren't." A poorly educated man in the wilderness could make it dangerous for him, unnecessarily so for him, but he wouldn't send him away. He couldn't. He wasn't a terrible man, just easily spooked, heavily scarred, so intent on survival for some reason he didn't even know. "First impressions are as telling as any other impression." Behn's eyes fell on Alabastar once again as he explained his reasoning for smiling, if he even explained his reason. Alabastar explained a lot of something that Behn didn't give two shykes about. Behn just stared at Reymon, one of his eyebrows rising slightly higher than the other as he just, simply, watched. "What the petch are you talking about? I asked why you were smiling at me like a fool. Not why whatever the petch you just told me." Behn groaned in mild yet dramatically portrayed frustration. He shook his head slowly. "I guess you're hungry then. Since getting lost wasn't in your original plan, I'm going to assume you didn't prepare for getting lost." Behn hesitated a moment, knowing that it would bother him to share what he had, what he earned. But to deny the kid, send him off, probably to his death in the wildlands, and on an empty stomach would be even worse for him. "I can't believe I'm saying this. It's not tasty or anything, I don't cook to make it taste good. Just to eat and not be poisoned." Despite allowing Reymon to dine with him, he still seemed bitter about it, or tried to appear so. Really it was comforting to know he hadn't entirely lost who he was, a human being, and willing to help others despite the trauma he experienced. He moved back to the pot, taking his knife in his hand he started to stir it again. The rabbit and fish stew had been boiling for a good two hours. It should be tender now, easy to bite into, easy to chew, easy to swallow (if you could stomach the 'wild' taste that lingered on the rabbit. "I'm Behn."

[Alabaster Reymon]

Alabaster sat there and looked at the stew glad that he at least got the guys name even if it might not be his true name, he can still call him something. Behn was right though he hadn’t planned on getting lost and this was quite the predicament. Maybe he should have hired someone instead of insisting that he could do it on his own. The man before him was right, he might be considered smart in some places, but here he is dumb as the rocks that lay in this forest. Though the lesson was learned to think things through and plan to get lost if you go out into the wilderness. Just because he thinks something will happen one way doesn’t make it so. That was one of his many flaws. He was overconfident, and some people might say smug, but he didn’t see it. ”Thanks…” he looked and smiled up at Behn and smiled at his offer of whatever was cooking on the fire. It sure didn’t smell all too good, but, having not eaten all day, he was pretty sure he could eat anything, including the stuff in that pot. Gods know what is in there. The smell to him was unrecognizable, but he was used to eating all his meals in the city and not having to eat things cooked just to survive. He was used to flavor, not that this stew lacked that, but here there would be a more raw kind of flavor, he was sure. Already the differences between the wilderness and the city was vast, only to add this to the collection. In the end he was an over-trusting fool, but that was how he liked things and it defiantly filled life with adventure. Being prepared for it or not what will happen happens. ”So Behn,” Alabaster began, “What brings someone to live out here in the wild?” He asked out of plain curiosity. ”It would seem that living out here is more dangerous than any of the cities.” He gave his very much uneducated assessment of the situation, ”Not that I’ve been everywhere, but there just is monsters and creatures out here, right?” He asked the question like a child that has given into the thought, the idea, and the story of true existence of fearsome beasts and monsters. Though in that fact, it gave such a good and almost heroic light to Behn, who has the might and the courage to survive in such an environment. To Alabaster it would seem much easier to live in the city where at least the monsters do not come, but, one could argue, that they are replaced by an even bigger threat. Greed. He stopped smiling and waited for a response. The very fact that Behn questioned him about his smiling meant that it made him somewhat uncomfortable with the situation, and so he sought to remove any stimuli that might make Behn think any more less of him. He could already sort of guess the kind of thoughts such a rugged man might think of a small city boy. He could guess of the incompetence that was thought of him, and the man already aired how stupid he thought he was. He just didn’t want to add anything more to the list, like being creepy to top it all off. That label he surly wasn’t going to accept, maybe weird, but not creepy.

[Behn]

Behn nodded slowly as he seated himself next to the pot of boiling water, opposite of Alabaster. The boy may not have known it, but Behn was still thinking of ways to best the kid should he randomly jump him, such as kicking the boiling water-filled pot at him with his foot, if anything to slow him down, then grabbing the spear at his side so that he could easily skewer the assailant. Still, Behn no longer assumed any foul play. The boy seemed to genuine, too foolish, too physically unfit to be the typical bandit or rogue. Behn would accept him until he made a very foolish mistake, or even an attack. "It's not much, will have a wild taste. The wildlands will give you that same taste after a while." Of course Behn was referring to himself. He meant simply that whatever happened, or experienced, out here seemed to blend together, just normal life. He took out the eating knife he had on him and slowly moved it into the water, and stirred the fish and rabbit portions. It would be interesting to see a city-dweller eat this. It had been years himself since he had been in that situation. "I probably seem cold, but I don't mean it. I can't risk too many chances in these lands. Know what I mean? People tend to lose too much when they get too soft, too comfortable, too relaxed or careless." Behn looked up from the bubbling water to glance at Alabaster as he asked him the reason for his self-imposed solitude into the dangerous wild. His stare was more than just offering him Behn's attention. No, there was something in his eyes, pain, anger, something that sparked for a very brief moment. Memories, they haunted him still. His eyes shifted back to the pot again, his hand idly stirring the water. "It's my choice. My own exile to save myself." Behn knew that it didn't really tell his story, not even close. It probably only fueled the boy's curiosity, since he seemed the type to be eager to learn all information, be it important or simple stories. "In my experience, the true monsters lie within the cities. Such a place like that is what I fear, much like city folk fear the monsters of the wildlands. These lands are my home, like some city is yours. I would be more comfortable here, alone, than amongst those I could never trust. At least the animals don't lie. You see a vulture, you know he is there to feed on the dead. You see a man in the street, you cannot know if he is innocent, or your murderer. I'd much rather risk certain death every day than risk the fear of being destroyed slowly by those that are supposed to be my brothers, my own kind. Few animals eat their own brothers here." Behn was more ranting now than anything, his eyes were burning holes through the pot as he stirred, slowly, halfheartedly. He was speaking one thing, but he was obviously thinking about something else, no doubt the traumatic event that spawn such thoughts in his head. Behn was so preoccupied now that he didn't even notice that Alabaster stopped smiling for the sake of Behn's comfort. "The meat should be clean now. I hope you have a knife or something to dig out of the pot. I've got no utensils." Behn dug into the pot with his own knife, spearing a piece of rabbit meat and bringing it out of the water. He pulled it to eye level and rotated it slowly, just making sure it looked safe and all. As far as he knew, it was. He blow against the steaming piece of meat to cool it down before taking it in his mouth, chewing slowly, and swallowed. Chewy, tasteless, but it was food. "Help yourself."

[Alabaster Reymon]

The kid watched the pot of stuff. Sure he didn’t look like much of a threat, most people look at muscle mass, and that was one thing he lacked. Either that or the weapon the person chose to carry, but, despite looks of the staff, his real weapon was knowledge and the power that it brought with it. Most people wouldn’t expect a wizard out of him, or him to even know some of the arcane knowledge that he does. His mixture of magical skills and abilities, if asked, he would give credit to his family and of the journal that is passed down. Though, maybe, the journal part he would keep secret. It was the most prized of all the possessions he holds, a link to his both his family’s history and magical knowledge. Priceless, no amount of Miza or power really could persuade him to part with such an heirloom. So threat or not, taking magic into account, is to be questionable. Though, most likely, no threat because he even isn’t all that great at what was taught to him, what little was taught to him. Listening to Behns words about the mixture in the pot he gave a light smile that faded immediately before he went to answer, ”I bet” though in fact he didn’t have any idea, nor did he have, or even think of the idea that Behn was talking to himself. The wilds though, as one can only imagine, would leave their brand on someone who stays or even dares to venture into the depths. Now he watched Behn closely as the he talked about himself being cold, a bit cold, yeah. He came off like that, though he tried to understand that it might be the effect of the wilderness. The untamed wilds of the world could easily mold someone who lives within. Though understanding he just nodded at the man’s words. ”I understand” he lied. He didn’t know, nor could he begin to imagine the full effect of the wilds without first experiencing it for himself. It’s impossible, but sympathy comes in many flavors. Though as time passed, as Alabaster silently sat there and listened to the man, he noticed that there seemed to be more to his words than he let on. Some more personal memories coming though in that rant of his, and in all politeness he stayed quiet and listened. Sometimes listening was for the best, it could gain you a lot of insight into a situation, and the way Behn was staring at the pot he was tempted to interrupt and ask if he was ok. But the interruption never came. He seemed preoccupied with something, a memory perhaps, but he decided not to push it or ask any more questions that might provoke the remembrance of such horrible memories that seem to haunt the man still. At the word of food being ready he waited for Behn to take the first, careful bite into whatever he had grabbed. He watched the man carefully as he ate, and nodded at the invitation to eat, before reaching into a sleeve of his and pulling out his own eating knife. He has learned from a very young age to always bring your own knife everywhere. You never know when food will be involved. This time, even though he wasn’t prepared for this venture out into the wild, he had succumb to habit and brought it with him anyways. Looking into the pot he smiled half-heartedly as he plunged his own knife in, barely missing the piece of fish that he was aiming for. Definitely a show that he was hardly a threat with that knife, dull as it is, that he possessed. He got it though, feeling the knife enter the and run though the meat, on the second try and held it up to his face, eyes slightly crossing as he focused on it. It sure didn’t smell the best, but he would blow on it to dismiss the heat that emitted from it. Shoving the piece in his mouth he chewed slowly trying to judge if it was alright. Deciding that it wasn’t, he tried to hide the disgust in eyes and face as he chewed some more and finally, after what seemed like minutes, swallowed. He took a deep breath and looked at the questionable meal, but again he tried to hide the fact that he didn’t like it. Wouldn’t want to be rude or offend his new acquaintance; so he again fished out another piece of the stew and chewed it thoroughly before swallowing, this time doing a much better job of hiding his dislike of the food. Food is food though, and he had to eat. There would be no complaints from him. Silence descended upon the two as he now focused more on stomaching the meal and hiding what he really thought of it, which sounds much easier than it really was. He wasn’t much of a person to hide emotions often.