Hot and Cold [Constance]

[Nayato]

Time-Stamp: 5th of Summer, 511 AV Prayer was never simply habit for Nayato. He never spoke simply systematically read off a mental list of what he was thankful for then asked for help in the future as though it was just another minuscule part of his day. No, Prayer was conscious thought, a deep deliberation, a time for reflection and gratitude. In and of itself he was a man of faith and pray was away of speaking to his gods. So what disrespect would it have been to just lessen the experience for simple needless want. Nayato had never prayed for the future aside from the hopes of keeping his people safe in all of there adventures. Opening his midnight black eyes, Nayato laid still beneath a layer of sand hidden away from the world. In his silences it was all he could do pray and dwell on his own thoughts as to not break his camouflage. Beneath the sand he griped his bow, in the same hand settled between his index finger, nestled an arrow, his finger holding it in place for a quick launch. The sun was reaching its peek as the burned with a reputation that befitted the desert. A small dry breeze caused the sand that covered Nayatos body to shift slightly, if it wasn’t for his second pair of translucent eyelids being shut the sand surly would have been a great irritation. His left hand was free but was being used for one purpose, his fingertips were not covered by the sand as they slightly protruded along the surface sand. The black, freckle like marks on his fingertips letting him sense disturbances in the air caused by any movement. leaned forward Nayato sat straight up causing the sand to flow from his body like a water fall of sand. Bringing his bow to an attack position. Traveling though the desert Nayato often happened upon a rotting Bowbacked Goat carcass. The meat itself was something he would never think of eating In its current form but the goat had enough meat left to draw something else to it. From the tracks in the area Eypharian Jackal had yet to scavenge it but with the amount of time the desert offered a free meal, Nayato knew something was bound to come. And he was right, aiming his bow Nayato had a Jackal dead in his sights, pulling back on the line he let go causing the arrow to slice through the air. It connected with the beast causing it to topple over before even getting a chance to eat on the goats carcass. Standing up to his full high it was clear the Chaktawe was ready for a day filled with hunting. Nayato’s face held a upside triangular design of black paint signifying he is of the Kalanue Tribe. Not only was his face painted but upon his bare chest were other painted designs as well. With bow in hand he ran over to his kill removing the arrow he had just fired. It wasn’t long before his attention was draw to the direction of something or someone moving around him…

[Constance]

Time-Stamp: 5th of Summer, 511AV With the hot desert sun set high above, with no clouds to lessen its intensity, Constance skin felt as if it were on fire. That was the least of her concerns at the moment though. Her head was spinning and it ached quite a bit. Her entire being felt weakened by her continuous exposure to such an extreme heat. She had a rapid pulse; confusion and disorientation had begun to set in. All symptoms of extreme heat stroke. While Constance did expect the desert would be hot, she could never comprehend just how hot it really was. Her current predicament was proof enough that she lacked the understanding. Being born, and growing up in the frozen reaches of Taldera, she had only ever experienced extreme colds, but unlike the desert heat, that was bearable for her. Her native people had a natural resistance to the extreme cold, but did that mean that when faced with an overbearing heat that they were at a big disadvantage? Most likely. Constance had been traveling threw the desert for only a short time, but was already running low on necessary supplies needed to survive the trying climate. Most importantly, the reserves of water she brought with were almost spent. She was trying to conserve what little she had left, but this forced her into an even more dire situation: she wasn't sweating anymore; further proof that she was under hydrated and teetering on the brink of a potentially deadly situation. Constance sat slouched over on the back of her Avanthalian horse and held its reins in a loose grip. She wasn't exactly guiding the animal, leaving it to wander in whichever direction it fancied at the moment. Perhaps Constance was too weakened, and mind too clouded to worry about such a thing. Or she might have been hoping that the animals instincts would kick in and lead them to a watering hole. Regardless, it was obvious that both of them were in pretty rough shape. As she looked out onto the seemingly endless horizon, she saw several figures appear. With the current haziness of her mind, she was quick to call it a hallucination. Although she was very inexperienced with the natural phenomena that came with the desert, she knew that even in her home land, when the fiercest of snowstorms would arise, one's eyes would play trick on them and try to identify figures threw the downfall of snow or sleet. While she expected the claimed, illusion, to disappear as she neared it, she did not deter the horse from its route. As she, on the horses back, continued the trek toward the figures, they, instead of disappearing , began to take on more solid forms. When they didn't disappear, she reached up and rubbed her eyes, blinking rapidly a few times. She almost didn't want to believe it, lest her new found hope disappear on the wind. Along with the new found hope that she still might survive, her strength was renewed. Squeezing with her legs, she urged the worn out horse to pick up speed. And although with some hesitation, it complied, its walk slowly progressing into a gallop. Soon the situation became clear. She saw a person with black hair and unfamiliar tribal markings that covered a good potion of his chest. He was standing near a several day old carcass that she couldn't identify, and what looked like a fresh kill. From this scenario she could safely assume that the man was a hunter. And if this was true, which she believed was, then no doubt he knew how to survive out in the scorching desert. She hoped he would take pity on her; he might very well be her only hope for survival at this point. She was roughly 50 feet away from the hunter now. Pulling the horse down to a slow trot, Constance slid off its back, landing on her hands and knees with a thud. Her breathing was noticeably shallow. Glancing up at the hunter threw gray colored eyes, her face was covered in dirt and her hair matted, sticking to her skin where sweat had once been but dried. She tired to form words but found that her voice was stuck in her throat; her tongue as dry as the sand itself. When she tried once more to speak, her voice was caught up again, only allowing her to cough several times.

[Nayato]

Even though he wasn’t looking at what he was doing Nayato’s hands acted on there own. Removing a small goatskin bag from his quiver Nayato set the jackal into it and with a leather strap bound the bag to his quiver. Even though Nayato never stopped working his attention was drawn to a sound he knew all to well. It was the sound of shifting sand under a horses hooves as it galloped along the desert. At first he held no real regarded for the person, his site was slightly foggy which caused him to open his second pair of translucent eyelids revealing his jet black eyes that cared a deep glimmer in the shining sun as if they were mysterious voids into the unknown. Naturally as a defense mechanism Nayato’s face was stoic showing that he was neither a threat nor would he stand down if threatened himself. That was until all thoughts of hostilities were shattered and vanished as he watched the women fall from her horse and onto all fours. Quickly setting one arm though his bow he let it hang around him like one would carry a messenger bag. Erupting from where he was standing into a dead run towards the women, his feet bare as the webbing between his toes caused him to get a better footing in the sand. It didn’t take long before he was upon the women kneeling in the sand at her side. ”pâs'~tewacâ~pi…” The words slipped from his lips in his native language of Tawna. It was first thought to come to Nayato’s mind was ‘is she blind?’. Looking past the woman’s gray eyes he examined her, setting on hand to her forehead brushing away some dirt and setting some hair aside. The sporadic breathing made it clear she was out in the sun for to long and his Waterskin was back at his camp. As Constance coughed he tried to listen to what she had to say but apparently desert had dried away all words. Looking to the horse the animal even looked worn out which left him with one last option. "I will take you back to my camp." Nayato spoke in a near perfect common language. Setting an arm around the behind the girls neck while his other arm was set behind the bend of her knees, Nayato lifted the women up. They were not far from his camp site and managing to take the horses reins, Nayato carried the women and led the horse to his camp site. The camp site was full of desert plant life, mostly small shrubs lined the area with the occasional Acacia Tree here and there. Nayato's tent big enough to house four people was set up near a horse that was grazing on some small shrubs around it. The horse was a female Eyktolian Desertbred named Tsutla. When near his tent Nayato left go of the women's horse's reins. In a hurry Nayato carried the women into his tent for shade to escape the heat of the sun. Setting her down on his bed roll Nayato found his full water skin. being a Chaktawe he didn't need water for about eight more days since his water bladder was still full. "Here is some water, Drink." Removing the cork lid from the water skin he held it out to her. "Are you alright?" The inquisitive tone in his voice showing he really did worry for her even though she was a complete stranger. OOCOk so I have no idea what the Chaktawe language sounds like but I do know some native languages in RL. “Pâstewacâpiw” is Cree Indian and it means “His/Her eyes are dry” I obviously made some edits to the word for RP sake but the meaning is the same. Also hope you don’t mind him picking her up and ect… I know some people are picky about it. and also slight NPC horse control =/ but seeing as how Nayato though she was half about to pass out from dehydration I think it was needed ~Will edit if needed

[Constance]

Time-Stamp: 5th of Summer, 511AV At the moment, Constance vision was clouded and worsening as time passed. While her sight was obscured, her other senses were heightened just slightly. When she inhaled she could smell the thin cloud of dust and sand that had been disturbed by her falling to the ground. And from where she knelt on the ground, she could hear the genital sifting of sand under the feet of the person whom was quickly approaching her. As the sound grew in nearness and clarity, her eyes began to transition from the solid gray color, to a yellowish green color. Although there appearance had changed in color only, they still held a shade of gray cloudiness to them. The peridot color representing the emotions of hopefulness, worry, and distress. Once the man was kneeling beside her, she closed her eyes and let her arms and legs give into there exhaustion, collapsing to the ground. The sand was hot and gritty against the sensitive skin of her abdomen. The discomfort coaxed her to turn over onto her back in hopes that her cloak would provide some protection against the irritant. From where she lay, she heard the man speak in a language unknown to her. ”Pâs'~tewacâ~pi…” The word, or words, were a mystery to her; she could only hope that they had a non-hostile meaning to them. Then she felt his hands brush against her burning skin in an attempt to clear away some hair. His fingers were cool compared to her own skin, or she might have only hoped that it was cool and would bring some relief to it. Then he spoke again, this time in a tongue she could understand. "I will take you back to my camp." His words were fallowed by the feeling of a hand coming up against the back of her neck, and an arm come up under the bend of her knees. Then the strange sensation of being hoisted up from the sandy ground. She didn't need to open her eyes to understand what was happening, his words were clear, although she knew not what the results of this happening would be. This stranger seemed concerned, and maybe even kind, but with her poor vision, looks could be deceiving. And although the sound of his voice might have confirmed his good intentions, people could be excellent liar's threw the practice of deception. Not long after her willing departure with the stranger that might have prevented her death, she could feel a slight temperature difference. Also, the quiet sounds of the desert wilderness was slightly muted. When she felt the movement of her decent down, she opened her eyes a crack to take in her new surroundings. As she had expected, her surroundings were not much more then a blur. When the man removed his hand from her neck and his arm from under her legs, she felt the soft cushioning of what she thought might have been a bed roll. The stranger wasn't much more then a shadow to her at this point, making it difficult to decipher exactly what he was doing. After setting her down, he seemed to step back away from her, but quickly returned with something in hand. "Here is some water. Drink," his voice came. When she heard the word, 'water', her eyes widened and she reached out desperately for the water skin, finding the strength to push herself up into a sitting position. Quickly pushing it to her lips, she started to drink deeply. In her haste, she inhaled some of the water and caused it to flow down her windpipe. As it went done the wrong tube, she broke out into a fit of coughing, forcing her to also cough out any water in her throat. Once her lungs were free of water and she had caught her breath, she took to the water skin again, taking special care to not inhale to quickly lest the coughing fit repeat itself. She made quick work of the water, emptying it within only a few short moments. Tilting her head back, she held the empty container over her open mouth and shook it several times, forcing the last few drops out. She must have been quite the spectacle, she assumed from the mans question. "Are you alright?" Setting the dry water skin down in her lap, she looked over to the shadow of a man. Her eyes wouldn't meet his, or maybe they couldn't, making her seem a little distant or aloof. Then handing the skin back to the figure, she decided to try and speak again. "Thank you... for saving me. I don't doubt I was as good as dead before my horse found you." Her voice was as sweet as honey when she spoke. "Please, is my horse here as well? I need the ointment he carries." The ointment she spoke of was something her grandfather had put together especially for her... condition. Its ingredients consisted of various herbs found in her home land and bought from the vendors the specialized in imported goods. Its purpose? To temporarily improve her vision for a maximum of one day. After which, she would need it reapplied. It was a gooey substance, but one that was easily applied. While she herself could not make it with her limited knowledge of medicine, she was slowly learning. But until the day came where she did know, it was left to her grandfather to provide her with it. He made enough to last her a fair amount of time, but once it ran out, if she wasn't home by then and if she hadn't learned how to make it on her own, things would become difficult. OOCSorry this took so long, I kept getting called away form the computer x.x. And by the way, I'm still waiting to see if its acceptable to have a Vantha be partially blind. And to make sure its acceptable that she uses herbs as a method to improve her vision slightly. Therefor there is a chance that she may end up not being blind x.x...