You Can Give a Man a Fish... [Open]

[Behn]

Timestamp: 75th of Winter, AV 510 Status: Open to all/Anyone can join Behn Gaeris, the Wildman There was silence. Silence, always silent. Behn was waiting. Always waiting. He had to be silent, to patiently wait. His dark eyes followed the prey slowly as it crawled ever so slowly, cautiously but also carelessly towards him. It was as if, by some amazing stroke of luck, this creature did not have the ability to see him, it did not have the ability to smell him, it did not have the ability to detect him. Behn would have smiled if he were a more foolish man, but he knew that even with his prey inching closer and closer into his trap, it was not caught. It would still have strength to fight, and even though Behn would easily be able to overpower the beast, it was quick, which is where Behn was at a large disadvantage. Behn slowly ran his tongue over his dry lips, longing to drink from his waterskin, or even the lake itself if he was truly desperate. No, he knew better. To give into thirst only tempted his body to move, and movement would ruin everything. Finally the fish, his prey, wandered close enough to wade through his legs, he lifted his shortspear above his head, and in one swift, fluid motion, thrust that piercing tool into the soft muddy water below. A cloud spewed forth instantly, and if Behn hadn't seen this before, he might assume it was blood, and that he had taken his prey with ease. No. The cloud was merely dirt, scattered and sent dancing in odd swirling explosion from the weapon attacking the ground. He had missed his target, by how much he wasn't sure, but certainly enough, the fish detected the spear and fled. Behn snorted lightly as he hoisted the spear from the muddy surface floor, he might have to wait, again, for a fish to wander by, and that could be a while now that he disturbed the stillness of the vicinity, and without even claiming success. Behn lifted his spare hand, running it through his hair slowly. He was frustrated, he was hungry, and he wasn't being patient enough, and worse of all, he knew better. He would try again though, not even pick his bare feet up from their semi-sunken place in that soft mud soil. The less he moved, the better his chances to catch an unsuspecting fish. Fish were unintelligent like that. They'd return to a spot that almost got them killed at one point, and sometimes within minutes.

[Behn]

Behn wasn't sure how long he waited, but it felt too long. In his experience, fishing never took this long. The fish tended to wander more frequently, linger by his unmoving feet longer. Still though, patience was truly one of his strong suits. Behn had adopted that virtue not long after he fled Ravok. It was a shame he adopted several unfavorable things as well though. Anger, distrust in his own people, selfishness, paranoia, bitter hate for Rhysol, etc. Behn was a cold man now, his life no longer consisted of supporting a woman he loved or preparing for a child he so eagerly expected. No, he was a survivor for the sake of surviving. He was alive only because he trained himself to be so. He was alive only because he trusted in himself, his own skills, and depended on no man. He was truly free, and that brought only a sliver of hope and pleasure to his shattered and aching life. Behn's eyes continued to cut through the water's surface, searching for his prey. And opportunity came, the strike immediately after. The spear plunged into the water, cutting through the dim pool with ease. This time he had succeeded in his strike. The cloud came again, but it was tainted with red, blood. The fish quivered and struggled in futility against both spear and death. But death was already there, patiently waiting to claim it. Behn would not kill for pleasure, he sought no pleasure from killing except for knowing it would feed his stomach, or some animal might be sold or traded for supplies. Nothing that could be used was wasted. Behn didn't have enough of anything to waste. Survival didn't work well for the picky. Behn held the spear down into the water for a few minutes, waiting until the squirming fish stopped all motion, that was the indicator it had died. Pulling the shortened weapon from the water he lifted the fish to eye level. He knew not the names of fish, but he knew it was a fair sized one. Wouldn't fill a grown man like himself. He would need another, perhaps a third if he was to be fulfilled. He could check his traps, the snares had been reliable in his time in the wilds. A hare, a large bird, squirrels and such. He had even onces caught a deer sniffing around his snare, though failed to take it down. Bigger game was still difficult. Behn tore the slain fish from his spear head and waded out a ways farther into the pool of water. His nude body sinking further within the murky surface as he gazed downwards. Stopped. Poised his spear, ready to strike. Now, all he had to do was wait.