In the Shadow of the Watchtower (Evarette, Closed)

[Vanator]

Evarette's subtle body language; subdued grins, deep breathes, the tugging at her lip with her teeth, belied a more complex cauldron of emotions and considerations simmering beneath the drykas woman's congenial demeanor. It was her stirring cerulean eyes that were the most mysterious. Though Vanator desired to, he did not hold the girl's gaze long enough to search those steely cobalt depths.

He may have been enjoying an unexpected familiarity with Evarette, but it was certain there was a great deal more to fathom within her appealing persona. He too was mulling over a number of sensations that required contemplation, possibilities and horizon's unseen when he arose that morning. A good night's rest should help to clarify his heart and mind.

Once again, the splattering of tea released the pensive tension, courtesy of the ornery Ivar. Vanator flinched at Evarette's startled gasp, watching the tea splash across her lap and the cup juggle in her hands. After a breath to ensure she was not burnt, the man shuttered his amusement behind clamped lips, observing the perturbed woman's interaction with the mischievous Nightwalker. But when Evarette looked at him, making her poignnat quip, Vanator burst forth in laughter. It was a cleansing, honest, loud laugh that filled the camp.

Holding up his hand, as if to indicate he did not mean to laugh at her, though he obvious was, he reined in his mirth enough to stutter, "Are, are you alrignt....I. I'm sorry. Uh," He stiffled another guffaw as the woman sat in shock, arms held up, dark tea stain spreading across her trouser's lap. "Wait, let me get you something." He rushed into his tent, emerging only moments later with a brown tunic wadded up in his hands. He leaned down as if to pat the area dry with the garment, then, after a second thought, recoiled and held the shirt out to Evarette.

As Evarette sopped up the spilled liquid, Vanator prepared her another cup of tea and set it beside her. Then he returned to his tent, emerging with a sack. Backlash immediately appeared out of the murky shadows as her rider produced a handful of grain from the leather bag. The Strider munched greedily from his hand, the food a fine mix of Syliran grains made especially for equines.

He had seized it from a hunting party that had intruded upon the grasslands. They were northerners, killing antelope for the horns, leaving the carcasses to rot. The Drykas do not take kindly to misuse of their revered land, and Vanator had been one of a band of warriors that had swept down on the poachers, mercilessly killing every last one of them. It was a raid that his katana-wielding sister Akela would have relished. Protecting the sanctity of the land and its inhabitants was a passion most dear to Vanator. It had earned him a reputation in the Pavilion that well pleased his father.

Vanator scooped another handful of the treat into his other hand and held it out as an offering to the dark Nightwalker. He did not presume to feed the great beast from his hand, so he poured the grain into one of the empty stew bowls and set it down near Ivar.

Having secured the rest of the grain from the covetous eyes of their steeds, Vanator returned to the fire. He was sure the wet clothes were uncomfortable, especially in the cold. He wanted to offer help, but the nature of the situation caused a hesitancy in Vanator's tone. "Uh, do you have another pair to change into? I might have something you could wear, if you need...something....to wear." He grinned sheepishly, suddenly feeling silly, the son of an Ankal stuttering like a whelp.

[Evarette Karmine]

As Vanator swooped in to the rescue, Eva raised her eyes to find him standing over her wielding a tunic. He had a look of hesitation wrought so acutely upon his features that it inspired another spurt of laughter as she reached up to relieve him of the awkward situation. Her glowing cheeks subsided, and she began to mop up what was left of the tea. Manners had never been the Nightwalker's strong suit, particularly when it came to an opportunity to embarrass Evarette...Or so it seemed.

Vanator rose again, and Eva found herself watching him as he ducked back into his tent, emerging with a bag of sweet grain for the horses. She grinned, watching his Strider's eagerness as she recognized his intent. Ivar's head swung around, and he watched the exchange with new-found enthusiasm, velveteen nostrils flaring as he tasted the air. The Drykas man spilled a few grains into a bowl, and the stallion's ears pirouetted above his dark skull as though orchestrating an argument within. Finally, he relented, bowing his head and plodding forward to inspect the bowl and the contents in it. Contented munching could soon be heard.

As the man disappeared into his tent again, Evarette shook her head softly in his wake. It was no small wonder he was an Ankal's son. He seemed to have a gift when it came to caring for those around him. Whether it was indulging in the playful antics of his hounds, or providing her pushy steed with a distraction so that she may take a moment to recompose, he seemed to have perfected the anticipation of the needs of others down to an art.

The chill air was beginning to take effect, and Evarette tsked as her furthered attempts at blotting achieved no fresh results. The dark stain covered most of her lap, though a few splashes managed to reach her tunic as well. His sputtered query drew her eyes up to him, and she blinked...Uncertain exactly what he was suggesting at first through his halted phrasing. Just when she thought her blushing was beginning to subside...

"Oh! Uhm...Well," she paused, auburn brows pulled together in a brief moment of consideration. The only spare set of clothing she had was more useful donned in warmer weather, not nearly as insulating or comfortable as the favored pair of breeches she currently wore. "Not exactly..." she hid her distress behind the flash of a quick smile, dropping her sapphire gaze to the damp tunic in her hands. A stirring of guilt tugged at her expression, as she hoped she had not ruined it.

"Perhaps...if you had something I might borrow until these dry by the fire..." Eva suggested hesitantly, her eyes returned to him with the hint of a mortified grin pulling at the corners of her lips. "I promise, I will not even look at another cup of tea until they do," laughter pooled in her eyes, and she held up her hands defensively, as though warding off any possibility of ruining his proffered clothing.

A bowl rattled against the bare earth some distance behind them. Evidently, Ivar had reached the last of his sweet grains, having found them to his satisfaction.

[Vanator]

Vanator recognized the flush of embarassement on Evarette's soft cheeks. He was moved by her distress, evident in her darting eyes, and assured her with a sincere smile that he had no concern over the condition of his damp tunic. "I think I have something," was all he said, simply taking the wet garment from her hand and spreading it by the fire. He then followed his own steps back into his tent.

Leaving the tent flap open to allow the firelight to spill into the small dwelling, Vanator paused to see Evarette across the small camp. Avas had returned to sit at the woman's side, laying her head on Eva's knee. It gave the man great pleasure to see Evarette caress the hound's head, leaning down to speak soft words in the dog's ear. Avas' dark eyes crept shut, completely trusting and comfortable in the care of the charming girl.

Gold-flecked eyes still settled on his new friend, Vanator lingered with his thoughts. There were quite few contradicting emotions entwined within his soul that evening. First, the unexpected revelation of Kavala's whereabouts had shed a shroud of heaviness from his shoulders. Now, at the back of his mind, schemes to take him to Riverfall were already assembling.

Then there was the Drykas girl. He discovered a profound ease and comfort in Evarette's presence, while still experiencing a nervous excitement whenever she drew near. There was respect and awe at her courage and resourcefulness, yet concern and genuine worry for her well being. She was both strong and lovely, fragile and enigmatic. Finally, a nagging sorrow tugged at him in the silent pauses, knowing that after the morning, he would most likely never see her again. He was grateful, nevertheless, for her comapny, even for just a day. A private, broad grin spanned Vanator's face and he turned to retreive something for Evarette to wear from his bags.

This time emerging with a pair of wool breeches and a long leather cord from his yvas. Vanator returned to the fire, proffering the folded breeches To Evarette, laying the cord on top. "I'm sure they will be too big, but maybe this will help hold them up." His mirthful smile gone, replaced with a modest grine that was intended to allay her discomfort.

"You may have more tea young lady, but I warn you I have no more pants to give you."

[Evarette Karmine]

Evarette laughed softly as she raised her hands to take the wool garment from him. Giving Avas one final caress between the ears, she rose from her seat by the fire and strode towards her tent, calling playfully over one shoulder, "then I will have to be very careful, for this environment speaks harshly to those without pants!" The flash if a smile followed her words before she disappeared behind the flap of her tent.

Not willing to let the awkward silence stand between them, Eva called out as she began to strip off her clothes..."So tell me more about the Sapphire Clan, Vanator...I have not heard as much as I would like about them." It was both the truth and the smallest sliver of a lie. She'd heard of them, her father and uncle had encouraged her knowledge of the other Clans. But she'd never been offered the opportunity to converse with a member of the Sapphire Clan so directly...and her natural curiosity was difficult to quell.

In short, she peeked out of the tent, dark curls sliding against her cheeks as she leaned only her top half beyond the concealing flap of her tent. She leveled him with a serious look, though there was an undeniable hint of laughter lurking at the corners of her eyes..."I feel I should warn you, good sir... These pants shall never look so good on you again!" And with that, she stepped out, pausing for his admiration. The wool pants were comically over-sized, fastened around her slender waist with the cord he'd set with them. She'd even managed to tuck the top of them down, and rolled the bottoms so that she did not trip over them with every stride. Evarette managed to maintain her composure for the span of several heartbeats before dissolving into laughter.

She reached back into her tent after her discarded pants, draped them over one arm and returned to the fireside. Once there, she placed them alongside his tunic to dry, and reclaimed her previous spot by the fire. Avas was content to see she'd returned, and rose to butt her head beneath Eva's arm, encouraging the Drykas woman to continue her earlier attentions. With another soft chuckle, and a quiet murmur of affection, Eva slung an arm around the hound, her hand curled around Avas's shoulder to scritch her chest..."Your friend here has indeed found a new ally, Vanator." Sapphire eyes darted a sideways glance towards the Drykas man, half a grin shed in his direction..."Though I think it would be very difficult to be immune to her charms."

[Vanator]

Evarette's sense of humor had returned, sharper than ever, much to Vanator's delight. He could appreciate good humor, and he liked the woman's particular brand of it. He sat down by the fire again, Ruhl sidling up to his feet, Avas moving to sit next to him, but refused to turn her gaze from Evarette's tent. He reached out to pet them both, running his hands down the length of their silky-furred spines.

He was relieved to hear Evarette pipe up with a question. He replied. raising his voice to assure she could here him inside her tent. "The Sapphire Clan is probably best known for their Webbing. Our Ankal's have created and plotted most of the Drykas Web around Cyphrus. My father is teaching me the skill as well. Though I only recently began to practice it again, I stopped trying for several years after Tamar died. When Kavala and then Akela left, I picked it up again, I guess I thought I could use it to find them." Vanator's voice remained positive, in spite of the mention of Tamar and his sisters. The day with Evarette had brought him some peace of mind, and he no longer felt his earlier melancholy.

"Our Pavillion, the Denusk family, are known for our healers, especially horse healers. Though many years ago, a plague struck the horses of several clans, a disease that even our healers could not eradicate. Kava and Kela's mother saved our reputation by finding a cure for the disease and saving the herds. She was Konti, and gifted. Kavala has a healer's heart, that is why she left for Mura, to study the things her mother had known." He laughed lightly. "I guess it should be no surprise that she is now caring for animals in Riverfall."

He turned towards Evarette as she stuck her head out, showing a toothy smile at her teasing remark. When she stepped into the firelight, Vanator stood to get a good look, bursting into laughter immediately. "Indeed young lady, no one has done justice to those breeches until now!"

His gaze followed her as she laid her pants by the fire to dry, then returned to sit beside him. He joined her, still smiling boyishly. Avas, once again, adhered to Evarette's side. Vanator watched the Luvanor hound consume Eva's attention. The dog was truly smitten with the Drykas girl. He caught Evarette's sideong glance as she spoke about the canine.

..."Though I think it would be very difficult to be immune to her charms."

Before his brain could engage, he impulsively replied. "I believe Avas could say the same of you." His own words brought a crimson flush to his face as he turned to look into the fire, the grin never leaving his face.

[Evarette Karmine]

Their combined laughter brought a center of warmth to Evarette's chest, one that seemed to dance with the buoyancy of their shared mirth. It felt good, to pursue such light-hearted measures for a night, and Eva tried her best to stay adrift of the knowledge that tomorrow would bring forth the cold continuation of her journey towards Syliras. I will be sorry to leave them, she thought somberly to herself, her fingers working spirals through Avas's fur. The thought of revisiting Riverfall surfaced again, and Evarette began to think of it as a course of action...once her brother was found.

Evarette managed to duck her head and smile at the compliment, tugging the lower half of her lip briefly beneath her teeth as she willed herself not to blush...Ah, but it was too late. Luckily, Vanator's eyes were averted. Eva permitted the silence to lap softly at the space between them for the span of several moments...before she couldn't take it anymore.

"Webbing...Ah, I do seem to recall something of the Sapphire Clan after all. Their Webbing skill are widely known." Evarette passed him a grin, glad to banish the awkward silence between them once again. One hand busied itself by burying her fingers between Avas's ears as the hound flopped down by her side...the other toyed absently with the cord around her waist.

"It is a task I never learned," she admitted guiltily, her dark lazuli depths then raised to study the sky. "..For my father did not have the time, and I don't think any of my immediate relations considered themselves adept enough," a shrug fell from her shoulders, and she considered the truth behind that matter. Her father would have liked to see her build the skills required by magical task, but her place among her kind was so very tenacious at best. The Webbing masters were too suspicious of a child not born in the plains, whose mother remained a mystery, to offer up one of the most sacred traditions of their past. Eva allowed herself to consider briefly how such a skill might have helped her when she set off on this fool's quest in the first place. As far as she could tell, when they were young, Dorian knew nothing of it either, as the skills of battle were pounded into his youthful mind well before talk of magic...

[Vanator]

Vanator at first chided himself for his rather forward compliment. He saw enough of Evarette from the edge of his vision to catch her biting her lower lip, a peculiar habit he had noticed about the woman, one that usually accompanied a ruddy flush to her cheeks. Though he may have embarrassed her, he did not regret making his remark. He was sincere, finding it a terrible shame that she would be wandering this world alone, without family, or even friends. Even after tomorrow, and they went their separate ways, he would lift her up to the gods and pray that she finds her brother, that she finds a home, and people to love.

Leaning forward, resting his arms on his knees and clasping his hands together, Vanator stared into the dancing flames. "Maybe, someday, I can teach you to Web." It was a wistful thought, an event that he knew had little chance of being realized. But it seemed right to say, because in some way it made the chance that Evaratte and he would cross paths again seem more possible.

Indeed, the hour drew late, and Vanator painfully acknowledged that his time in Evarette's company was drawing short. He sighed heavily, more than he intended, and turned to look at her. His hands wrung as he paused, the thin light brown braids on either side of his face swaying slightly, the small tarnished bronze and silver bands adorning them dully reflecting the fire's glow.

"Evarette," He addressed her in a subdued, serious tone and waited until she turned to him. Once her deep indigo eyes met his gold-flecked brown gaze, he continued. "This place holds many memories for me, of times that are gone and will never return. Recollections of my sisters, of the three of us laughing together and most if all, fond remembrances of Tamar."

Vanator's visage was sober but reflective. "But those images, as bittersweet as they are, are only ghosts that haunt this ancient tower. I came here because I was afraid to let go, that if I did not visit those ghosts, I would somehow forget my wife, that I would be dishonoring Tamar's memory."

"But today, you have brought new meaning to this lost place, you have breathed life into a dead memorial. Now I believe I can release those ghosts, that Tamar's memory will not be lost if I move on."

"If I decide to return to the Watchtower again, I will fondly remember you too. And, to be honest Evarette, if I do not speak my mind, everytime I come here I will have one more regret to haunt me." The Drykas man hesitated, knowing what he wanted to say was weighty for such a new friendship. But he did not know if he would ever meet this woman again, and he wanted her to realize the influence she had upon him.

"You are an amazing woman. I wish I could take in stride the hardships of life as you have. Even with the daunting task before you, you are determined and resolute. Whether by choice or necessity, I admire that greatly." His eyes did not flinch from hers, he wanted Evarette to see the deeply felt admiration within them.

What he wanted to say next was more personal, a confession he needed to make. "I know we just met, Evarette, but I have to say that, since Tamar, I have never met anyone I find as engaging, intriguing and exciting as you. I feel an ease and comfort in your presence that is rare. I am incredibly grateful to have met you, I will miss you greatly." He placed a hand gently on her arm.
" I...I just felt like I needed to tell you that. You deserve to have someone tell you that."

"Please understand," he glanced down at his baggy breeches clinging loosely to her slight hips and legs, a sly smile crossing his lips, "I am not vaunting you to a pedestal, you still cannot seem to keep hold of your beverages." His smile grew wide, spreading to his twinkling eyes.

[Evarette Karmine]

Evarette followed the Drykas man's eyes to the glow of the fire, a wistful smile possessing her lips as he presented the possibility of teaching her to Web one day. The thought stirred a new kind of hope within her, one that wished the struggles that lay ahead of her to speedily pass...so that good fortune might see her return to the plains of her homeland once again. Perhaps with her brother in tow.

I wonder, what would Dorian think of him?...Eva's eyes parted with a sidelong glance in Vanator's direction, briefly drinking in his profile as he gazed pensively into the flames. A wry twist affected her smile as her brother's voice rose in the back of her mind, chiding softly...Brothers do not like it when boys pay attention to their sisters. They tolerate it, at best...and lightly, at that! ...This statement had been uttered when a much younger Eva, angered to tears, insisted upon knowing why her brother had remained quite uncivil to Denmar, a young Drykas boy. At the time, Eva had been quite naive to Denmar's growing attachment, and was only incensed that her brother could not properly welcome her new friend. It had taken a few years, and several hard lessons, for Eva to fully understand her brother's words...

"I would like that...very much." Sapphire eyes danced back to the flames, and she shut them briefly against the warm glow...lost in the velvety silhouettes the flames cast on the backs of her eyelids...

It was then Vanator's heavy sigh brought her from her reverie, and his insistent tone drew her attention. Her eyes snapped open. She turned them on him expectantly, one auburn brow wrought higher than it's mate in an expression borne by her natural curiosity...As he spoke, however, that familiar curiosity slipped, tumbling into something akin to bewilderment and wonder. His words were weighty indeed...particularly for a friendship so newly forged. But, was this not the way of the land, here? The harsh terrain, combined with the dangers that lurked upon it, made life exceedingly difficult in the Sea of Grass...which in turn made one's next step in this world not to be taken lightly. Life was fleeting, it was a lesson well instilled in the minds of Drykas children as they came of age. Therefore, when words hovered in that breathless limbo of indecision, they were best spoken...Less the individual they were intended for step from their path and meet their end tomorrow.

It did amaze her the way he suddenly spoke of Tamar...without flinching, with only the slightest hint of melancholy flavoring his expression after the words had been spoken. She felt honored to have been even slightly capable of easing the tragic pang of loss associated with his annual pilgrimage to the Watchtower. In short, she felt unworthy of such monumental praise.

His hand descended upon her arm, and Eva's eyes dropped to it briefly...His words were not mere flattery, they were the sincerest form of honesty. She could see it reflected within those enigmatic, gold-kissed eyes of his. A slow, deep breath was drawn into her lungs, and Eva felt her pulse kick in her veins as she brought her eyes back up to meet his own. She caught his smile, and echoed it with one of her own, a hint of laughter pursuing her soft words as her hand folded lightly over his fingers..."Well, then have nothing to regret Vanator...Apart from my blundering inability to hold onto my drink."

[Vanator]

A long moment passed as Vanator held fast to the depths of Evarette's eyes. Her words only prompted his smile to stretch in grateful amusement. For a timeless expanse, no human voice disturbed the ambiance of the small camp. Only the crackle of the lively fire, the snort of a weary horse, the sigh of a slumbering hound, broke the cold, lonely solitude of the endless plain. Perhaps since the first time since this woman graced his Watchtower retreat, Vanator found no discomfort in the absence of communication.

It was true, existence in the grasslands was but a vapor, guaranteed to no one for even the next chime. That was a reality the Drykas man never forgot, for the wisp of many a loved one's life had been exstinguished from this unforgiving world. Nowhere was that more heartfelt than when he visited the Watchtower. Indeed, it was for this reason he had spoken his heart to Evarette, it was because of that frailty of life that he committed to his memory everything he could of her.

Vanator's eyes flitted from the deep hues of Evarette's gaze to the unique lines of her face, warmed by the orange tint of the firelight. The soft curve of her high cheekbones, the gentle slope of her nose, the curved bow of her lips, finely framed in loose coils of chestnut locks, all carefully registered in his mind's eye.

He was keenly aware of the gentle warmth of her hand atop his own. The touch of her palm was not like the smoothness of her fire-kissed features, but bore the calloused texture of a woman raised in the Sea of Grass. Other cultures may have found such toughness to be unfeminine. To a Drykas male, it was a pleasing indication that the woman was well suited to accompany him.

Time passed unmeasured, Vanator reluctant to conclude his study of Evarette, unwilliing to withdraw his hand from her gentle embrace. He squeezed his hand minutely, enough to feel the slight but strong forearm within the fabric of her sleeve. The contact spoke insistently of a bond that needed no words of acknowledgment, an unspoken communion that held promise, if the two of them were walking the same path. But they weren't. One could not abandon their journey for the other's.

So Vanator consumed every aspect of Evarette that he could, forging yet another memory of a precious life. But he held to a small hope. Her life, unlike those that have been exstinguished, may someday, gods willing, light his own again. For a breath longer, the man simply reveled silently in the sensation of the tactile connection.

Then, slowly, Vanator withdrew his hand from Evarette. Undoubtedly, his waning smile could not conceal the ache in his dark eyes as he felt his own hand slip from beneath hers. His gaze returned to the fire. The brave son of an Ankal, wielder of a great ax that had cleaved asunder men in their tracks, found he did not have the courage to bid the woman goodnight, nor retreat from her presence. It was inevitable, he knew, for Leth would soon relinquish the sky to his lover Syna, and two sets of hoof prints would diverge from the shadow of the Watchtower toward opposite points of the compass.

"No regrets indeed Evarette." He spoke only a half-truth. He had no regrets in all that had conspired that day, but of the circumstances that would constrain their friendship to one single day, a regret for certain.