Room for More?[Private]

[Devmond Incarnata]

The moon was in its waxing gibbous phase, its reflection like a jar of fireflies. Devmond relaxed into the folds of her cloak. It was still warm from her scented skin, and he took a deep breath of the sweet lavender that lingered in the dark blue threads. The croaking of frogs and the low hum of a myriad of insects sung a round of lullabies to each their own child. The throbbing shoulder had numbed and sagged. He blinked hard against the falling curtains, tried to lengthen his back like a rigid Syliras Knight but resembling more the stature of a proud, but weary old gentleman.

Needing something to distract himself, he turned to Erato, ready to start a subtle and lucid themed conversation. When he saw her in the moonlight, whether it was from this color of light or heightened by his own disillusioned wakefulness, his mouth was left empty as the snakeskin from his thoughts. Any flaw could not be seen, for there was none, in the beauty of her round face that challenged the moon and slender arms that glowed more than its rays. Feeling sagged and wrinkled under the heaviness of night, it was wrong to be in the presence of something so lightened by the night air. Covered by her scent and her light, he was shadowed and felt his voice so insignificant against the frogs heightened ramblings.

“You really are drawn to water of any kind.” he mumbled. Not knowing why the statement seemed to abandon him in purpose, it was concluded by clearing his throat aimlessly, but the words flowed again to comfort by only its sound. “Thank you for your concern, as well as this cloak. I am not particularly fond of the night winds. My kind thrives in quiet against the brutality of the surface. Perhaps I was too naive to assume that my honesty alone could prevail against the many years of prejudice. The people here have long held the fear of the dark in their ancestry, and so naturally hate those that dwell happily in it. Do you not perhaps not know what a "Widow" is, Erato?"

[Ambrose Wheeler]

Seeing Kayn trying to hit him with the shield, he quickly shifted over to his right foot and spun out of the way, using the momentum to slam the hilt of his sword down on his sparring partner's back. I have to prove myself, that I'm not just the hunter. This is my chance. He thought to himself as he slipped his left foot in front of Kayn's. If he got hit, he'd move forward and fall, if he tried to move forward to dodge, he'd fall as well. Got you. Ambrose said with a smile, before his move even connected.

[Erato]

Seeing his stiffness, Erato had already leaned closer to gently run one hand against his back. It was not a sentimental nor affectionate gesture, but one she had learned as a frequent companion of the injured. In the very rare and special occasions when an elderly konti visited for some soothing tea or compress for an ache, they exhibited this familiar stiffness of the back and limbs. Those with sprains and bone fractures had the same behavior—tension of the muscles due to bone and tissue trauma always made the limbs difficult to maneuver, even for the healer. Thus comfrey compresses made for an incredible aid, soothing inflamed muscle and bone quite effectively as aloe on a burn. It had surprised many of her patients, this power of plants, for the effects of herbs generally play more subtle effects. But as any konti healer knew, at the right time and at the right place, plants could easily determine the difference between life and death.

If Erato had a nice little fire of her own (roaring flames like the ones for the akalak’s beast were far too fearsome for her), she fancied she could make a nice warm comfrey paste, and perhaps some passionflower tea to help smooth over Devmond’s pain and nerves. Even so close to him, looking into his eyes, it was difficult for her to find his discomfort, but his body spoke it for him. The dark circles of his eyes, the stiff posture of his back, and perhaps the limpness of his arm all clued towards discomfort. Was it more than the injuries? She had to believe he also knew a world quite different from these cool and open woods.

Of course, the konti still had to be careful. This was not a gentle old elder or a helpless child, but an adult male with a rather intimidating set of teeth when he was provoked. He seemed resigned enough now that she dared to touch him, slowly starting to migrate behind him to soothe his back and shoulders, as well as avoid his intelligent gaze. Already, her cheeks had started to flush with pink, somewhat embarrassed by his question. She knew so little of this outside world, and it was weakness she was not yet ready to show.

“You are terribly stiff, Devmond. I suspected Nilkayn did something to your shoulder, and now I am sure of it. You hide pain very well.” Erato let a moment pass, her fingers brushing against his neck as her thumbs slowly began rubbing circles into its sides. Her movements were at first gingerly made and very light, half expecting Devmond to turn and brush her off in confusion and discomfort. It didn’t appear that men here were particularly fond of tenderness that konti so generously showed between one another, but Erato was too accustomed to reacting quickly to pain. If she could relax the muscles around the shoulder, he might permit her to examine it more closely and take needed action.

For the sake of at least maintaining casual conversation, Erato found it meet to at least answer his question. “Like many things in the common tongue, a widow seems to have more than one meaning. I am not certain I understood what you particularly mean.”

[Nil'kayn]

Kayn grunted as he felt the hilt of the sword connect with his shoulder. He continued forward with the momentum of his charge, and felt his legs connect with something. "Oh shyk-" He fell forward, attempting to roll, he curled himself into a ball. He only semi-succeeded; he made a awkward half roll and landed on his back, his head facing Amb. He gripped his spear and glanced backwards. If Amb attempt to get closer he would stab the spear outward in the attempt to keep him away as he started to get up.

[Licendous Gestral]

Ambrose the fool, knocking over and having the killing strike are two different things entirely. Noticing this licen smiled, nil was trying to get up but from the battering he had taken before hand he needed a small rest he was facing a fresh opponent licen thought this as he threw some knives at the log, waiting for his turn against ambrose. Taking the kama from his waist and he had some practice strokes against the log as he threw a knife with his other hand hitting the log with enough force to stick. The kama struck the log with enough force to cleave some sections of bark off of the log and then stick to it. Licen even whilst not sparing was not going to pass up a chance to train. The dagger still sheathed at his side, and the kama now in his hand he was poised to handle ambrose, as his next opponent. Flicking the scythe around his body again the kama still in hand he slashed at the log again, taking his time with his strikes to control the scythe better.

[Ambrose Wheeler]

He stepped closer to Kayn and rested his foot over the man's ankle, keeping his sword next to his leg to protect it and being sure to show how easily he could press it into him. Giving Kayn a smile, with a slightly sadistic nature hidden behind it, as he pressed his foot down a little harder, not hard enough to deal any real damage but just enough to prove he had him for the time being. Do you wish to continue, or do I win this round? He asked passively. Whether it continued or ended here only meant that his round with Licen would either be sooner or later as well as how worn out he'd be.

[Devmond Incarnata]

Devmond had to again smile in a little amusement from the constant displays of concern. It was strange to see a non-Symenestra show such selflessness, but, then again, she had admitted her own ignorance towards any knowledge of his people. The history of the “Widows” could very well be simplified to the bad encounters between other races. Unlike his daughter’s own mother, he would not have to give her a new education. Any physical gesture would be taken only a few layers below its surface level of psychology. This harvest was truly a blessing, in painful disguise, after the death of his older brother. Vileras had truly been a superior harvester, Devmond would never take that title away from him, giving the Passiflora-Incarnata webs several surrogates from the harvests. Although Devmond was seductive, he simply could not convince a girl to bed who knew what “till death do we part” really entailed.

He suddenly gave a low laugh, brushing away the sleep from his eyes. “Well, if I hide pain so bravely, it is simply from a very long history of having only brothers in the family for generations. Also, my younger brother has a bit of a temper that the Akalak could only hope to match. Perhaps not in that lovely grip, I’ll give him that for props...ah,” he said. Her hands had rubbed an especially sore part, quickly loosening the tight knot. “Ugh...huh...your very good at that. Oh, uh, what were you saying? Ah, right. My people have a very long history of prejudice, as you probably noticed by the Akalak’s suspicions. We live under the surface, in dark caves that lay...guh...from the rest of civilization. Our small numbers and isolated location have given way to a unique culture. A little to the right please...As in any social situation, differences in perspective can lead to misunderstandings. Occasionally, we send out ‘ambassadors’, you could say. This way we are not cut-off from the goings of Mizahar’s thriving population. I am one of those said messangers. Having come from Syliras, I am now headed to Zeltiva where I hope to get in touch with a few acquaintances as well as make new associates.

Devmond grinned to himself both in pleasure at her expert touch, but also in the pride of his freshly spun words. This ‘ambassador’ twist should accomplish two things: 1) it would make him seem even more dignified and important in her eyes, and 2) make sense of any other story the other members might tell her. A harvester was, in a sense, doing a similar job as an official representative, giving those he met a positive feeling enough of the Symenestra that they would want to visit. After all, if they never came back, obviously they wanted to stay very badly. For Erato, he would pull every such ploy he could. There was of course the completion of his goal in mind, but Devmond now wanted a little more then that and a one-night stand. Mysterious yet so trustworthy, both with the warmth of love and the coolness of an intelligent vein. She was radiant, and he needed to bask just a little longer in that light. “So, what I was meaning to say,” he continued. “Was that I was very humbled by your honest charity. There are many healers who would leave a Symenestra without aid. You have done more than just heal my wounds with your gestures, I feel as though I may be that much closer to accomplishing the goal I set out to do.”

[Erato]

There was something unexpectedly sweet in Devmond’s words, or perhaps it was… no, it wasn’t something else. Erato felt almost guilty as her hands continued to work at his back and neck, having been one who was certainly full of the prejudice he spoke of. Symenestra… it sounded like something from a dream, something she may have heard once in passing, or glanced over in a book. She had known only that things were different away from home, that men bred all sorts of danger and greed, particularly among those not of their kind. Konti were blessed of a god and goddesses, filled with culture and peace. War was a thing of the past, an ugly, evil thing that no lover of life could accept. Such things brought pain, the very thing Erato had spent her life curing.

Devmond did have a fearsomeness all his own when he choose to show it, perhaps not always intentionally. Erato remembered easily his dark clothes, the clever eyes and sharp smile that could wax and wane like the moon. There was evidence that he had known violence, and more still with what he revealed of his life, but the konti did struggle to believe that is was purely the prejudice of others. Yes, the odds had been unfair with the case of Nilkayn, and certainly unprovoked, but Erato couldn’t help but wonder if Devmond or his people had truly done nothing wrong. He blanketed his misfortunes as “misunderstandings,” which were common among different cultures, but Nilkayn had shown no ire towards her. What with the scales and webbed fingers, she knew it was obvious that she was not quite “normal.” Was it simply because she appeared to be less threatening?

But if that were the case, if Devmond had done something wrong, why would he be desirous to make connections with the outside world? Perhaps it was only the appearance of his people, ugly tales of the past that haunted him even in a time of peace. Horror tales of Symenestra certainly hadn’t touched her ears, and while the konti weren’t in the lifeblood of Mizahar, she was confident she would have heard of an entire race causing havoc. Besides, she thought, he isn’t so threatening now, so kind… his skin is so smooth…

Erato blinked, blushing again when she realized her hands were doing nothing medical at all. Her fingers had wandered back to his neck, grazing against his scalp where the small tender hairs began to thicken into his styled, purply locks. She couldn’t quite get over the perfect smoothness and softness, like flowing silk in water. It didn’t make any sense, the desire to move closer and feel it with her cheek, to smell it, to tease her fingers through it and remember what silk felt like. Devmond styled his hair rather deceptively, just like his clothes, which were sharp and harsh. But there were weak spots, spots where she could feel the soft little hairs on his neck and the smooth skin there.

Maybe, maybe that’s just how he is, hard on the outside and soft within. One would expect that from a man followed by darkness and bad reputation, something that is not purposely of his making. Perhaps his race truly is very different, simply misunderstood for living beneath the touch of the breeze, of the sun. Oh, how dreadful it would be to not know the sun! Erato’s thoughts continued to wander as her hands purposefully left his neck and went back to the shoulders, steadily drawing closer to the new injury. The konti knew better than to massage the wound, but she would need to poke around to determine just what had happened. Perhaps then she could convince Devmond to make their own little camp so she could make the needed medicine. Would that not be excuse enough to keep them from returning for the night?

“You mistake my charity, Devmond. One approaches things as they know best, not always in the most logical or sensible fashion. I knew healing as a child and my life has deviated from it very little since. One who has to care for the injured does not care to inflict more wounds, as all must be accounted for one way or another. I choose the higher path, and Avalis guides each step upon it. If evil is to inflict pain and goodness to relieve it, then I have done good in the world and all other perceptions are obsolete. While few minds are so morally simple, such is the action I have known to take, and I choose no other. Perhaps in seeking true connection and peace for your people, you, too, wish for something similar.”

[Nil'kayn]

Kayn thrust wildly in the direction attempting to get up, but Amb simply deflected the thrusts. Kayn said nothing as Amb stepped closer. He had los, fare and square. This man had skill, skill that would not match Kayn's own with a sword, but skill all the same. He would have to test there skills against each other later on. He shook his head a smile creeping over his face, the pain in his foot being ignored, it was not all that painful, but it was a reminder. He dropped his spear, smiling, "I submit." He got up slowly using his spear to help himself up, if Amb offered to help him up he would take the help. Once upright he would nod to Amb and walk slowly towards his weapons sitting down to watch. He grabbed his waterskin taking a swig, he leaned back on the log.

[Licendous Gestral]

"Well done ambro, and nice fight nil, but try useing a weapon your not well versed in ambro."Licen was planning to try out his glaive next but instead he decided on closer combat weapons such as the kama he had tucked behind him. Pulling out the kama he stepped into the ring knowing full well that ambro was deft enough with a shortsword but not as well skilled as himself with a weapon sorter or longer. So instead he tucked awaythe kama and drew his longsword. Try fighting me with my longsword maybe your skill with that blade will improve. Licen wasn't too sure about his own skill with the kama but he knew he had to get better in his longsword too but his skill was not low enough that he didn't know a few things. Taking his stance he positioned his blade over his shoulder the point facing downwards both hands along the handle ready for a heavy blow or a powerful impact. From that position he fliped his sword around with a powerful swing enough to shatter ambro's defense and then bringing the sword around behind his back ina fluid motion he struck at ambro again with the blade in his left hand swinging from the same side twice ina short space of time. Licen's true skill lie in sword play, he was deft enough to know about long weapons but he had an inane talent with most weaponry finding himself able to use any with some skill even from the start.

OOC(think anikin skywalker's lightsaber style)