The sixth day of winter, 514 AV.
The sun had made her way towards the evening, setting a golden glow behind the ever present clouds that sat like a constant hide over the island. The smattering of trees that surrounded the base of Mt. Merlus were as weary as ever, their vitality deceptively hidden beneath bowed boughs. He had been patrolling the area since the late morning, the tree already watered and his ability to make it to the plateau and back at a point where he was much quicker at it. Thus, it left him plenty of time to travel about the areas Atziri had outlined for him as part of his responsibility as a warden. From what he could tell, the base of Mt. Merlus, while large, was certainly not even half the size of the prairie. The relatively smaller area requiring his attention was well received, however, as it meant spotting things out of the ordinary was much simpler - the cognitive map much better detailed of the copses, valleys, and hills than anywhere else on the island. His body had grown much more used to the climate, and while he still sweat freely in the heat, it didn't bother him nearly as much as it used to. In fact, on the sporadic trips he took back to the citadel, he found the chill of the place near unbearable.
As his sandals crunched against the rocky, Keene let res move back and fourth between his hands, exuding it from one hand and letting it absorb through the other. It was a meditation exercise, of sorts, he'd practiced back in Zeltiva when he had first been learning how to control the off-blue substance. It had been incredibly difficult when he had been starting out, but now it flowed like a soft, airy mass between his hands. There was still a slight hesitation before it left the confinement of his skin, but for the most part, the res responded similarly to taking a step or drawing a conscious breath. It was no longer an entity separate from himself, as he had viewed it in the beginning. It was now an extension of himself, of his will. Letting some of it wrap itself around his wrist, Keene snapped his fingers, the liquid hardening into thin, icy shackles. Pulling the rest of the res back into his body, Keene let the cool sensation of the frozen solid crawl its way up his arm and settle down around the skin of his wrist. It was refreshing after the heat of the afternoon.
Continuing along his patrol, Keene rubbed his right wrist around his neck, coating his hot and sticky skin with the refreshing icy water from the melting bracelet. He let his eyes wander, not particularly alert, though not entirely oblivious. The scenery was, as always, the haunting sort of beauty he'd come to almost appreciate. The foothills of Mt. Merlus were fairly uniform in intrigue: trees, scruffy grasses, rocks. There was little of asymmetrical interest aside from the massive organic structure of stone and fire that extended high up into the skies above. His attention was for the most part focused on all the areas not pertaining to the actual mountain for the time being. He had a difficult enough time traversing the few daily paths he had began to carve out into the mountain's face. Free form exploration of it was both dangerous and seemed to be frowned upon by Atziri, though she had never explicitly told him there were restrictions as to where he was allowed to travel.
There was a small shift of color in the corner of his eye, something unusual that broke his train of thought. Pausing, Keene turned his head to better inspect what it was that had caught his attention. Had the intruder been dressed in white, Keene would have nearly passed it off as the passing of one of the strange white birds that seemed indigenous to the Sahovan landscape. What he saw, however, was a figure dressed in dark clothing with strikingly white locks of hair that rolled and bounced just shy of her shoulders. Having little idea whether the woman was friend or foe, Keene flexed his fingers, feeling the res pulse behind his skin as his djed shifted and writhed in preparation for a fight. His face, however, remained passive as he approached. He took care to step with minimal amount of noise, but in the wilds where silence usually ruled the particular sense of hearing, it was difficult not to announce his presence through the sounds of his sandaled feet against the ground. Once he had drawn near enough for her to notice him, Keene spoke, his tone calm and even, falling a bit near the quieter side. "Do you have business here?"
The proper protocol for dealing with those he found around the area had not been clear when Atziri had explained his duties in the step-by-step manner of things she seemed to be so fond of. Keene, wanting to ascertain as quickly as possible whether the woman (who was much taller than he - a realization he made upon drawing nearer) was friend or foe. Atziri had been adamant that no one but the nuits of the island and the two of them were to be allowed on, near, or around the mountain. From what he could tell, the woman didn't seem to appear to be a nuit, though the eerie yellow tint of her eyes held something within them he couldn't quite place. She didn't seem to be one of the undead, but there was a decidedly questionable aura about her. If he was to fight her, Keene didn't want to get so close he wouldn't be able to properly defend himself. Stopping on a small rise a good several feet from her, he stopped in his advance and waited for her reply.
The sun had made her way towards the evening, setting a golden glow behind the ever present clouds that sat like a constant hide over the island. The smattering of trees that surrounded the base of Mt. Merlus were as weary as ever, their vitality deceptively hidden beneath bowed boughs. He had been patrolling the area since the late morning, the tree already watered and his ability to make it to the plateau and back at a point where he was much quicker at it. Thus, it left him plenty of time to travel about the areas Atziri had outlined for him as part of his responsibility as a warden. From what he could tell, the base of Mt. Merlus, while large, was certainly not even half the size of the prairie. The relatively smaller area requiring his attention was well received, however, as it meant spotting things out of the ordinary was much simpler - the cognitive map much better detailed of the copses, valleys, and hills than anywhere else on the island. His body had grown much more used to the climate, and while he still sweat freely in the heat, it didn't bother him nearly as much as it used to. In fact, on the sporadic trips he took back to the citadel, he found the chill of the place near unbearable.
As his sandals crunched against the rocky, Keene let res move back and fourth between his hands, exuding it from one hand and letting it absorb through the other. It was a meditation exercise, of sorts, he'd practiced back in Zeltiva when he had first been learning how to control the off-blue substance. It had been incredibly difficult when he had been starting out, but now it flowed like a soft, airy mass between his hands. There was still a slight hesitation before it left the confinement of his skin, but for the most part, the res responded similarly to taking a step or drawing a conscious breath. It was no longer an entity separate from himself, as he had viewed it in the beginning. It was now an extension of himself, of his will. Letting some of it wrap itself around his wrist, Keene snapped his fingers, the liquid hardening into thin, icy shackles. Pulling the rest of the res back into his body, Keene let the cool sensation of the frozen solid crawl its way up his arm and settle down around the skin of his wrist. It was refreshing after the heat of the afternoon.
Continuing along his patrol, Keene rubbed his right wrist around his neck, coating his hot and sticky skin with the refreshing icy water from the melting bracelet. He let his eyes wander, not particularly alert, though not entirely oblivious. The scenery was, as always, the haunting sort of beauty he'd come to almost appreciate. The foothills of Mt. Merlus were fairly uniform in intrigue: trees, scruffy grasses, rocks. There was little of asymmetrical interest aside from the massive organic structure of stone and fire that extended high up into the skies above. His attention was for the most part focused on all the areas not pertaining to the actual mountain for the time being. He had a difficult enough time traversing the few daily paths he had began to carve out into the mountain's face. Free form exploration of it was both dangerous and seemed to be frowned upon by Atziri, though she had never explicitly told him there were restrictions as to where he was allowed to travel.
There was a small shift of color in the corner of his eye, something unusual that broke his train of thought. Pausing, Keene turned his head to better inspect what it was that had caught his attention. Had the intruder been dressed in white, Keene would have nearly passed it off as the passing of one of the strange white birds that seemed indigenous to the Sahovan landscape. What he saw, however, was a figure dressed in dark clothing with strikingly white locks of hair that rolled and bounced just shy of her shoulders. Having little idea whether the woman was friend or foe, Keene flexed his fingers, feeling the res pulse behind his skin as his djed shifted and writhed in preparation for a fight. His face, however, remained passive as he approached. He took care to step with minimal amount of noise, but in the wilds where silence usually ruled the particular sense of hearing, it was difficult not to announce his presence through the sounds of his sandaled feet against the ground. Once he had drawn near enough for her to notice him, Keene spoke, his tone calm and even, falling a bit near the quieter side. "Do you have business here?"
The proper protocol for dealing with those he found around the area had not been clear when Atziri had explained his duties in the step-by-step manner of things she seemed to be so fond of. Keene, wanting to ascertain as quickly as possible whether the woman (who was much taller than he - a realization he made upon drawing nearer) was friend or foe. Atziri had been adamant that no one but the nuits of the island and the two of them were to be allowed on, near, or around the mountain. From what he could tell, the woman didn't seem to appear to be a nuit, though the eerie yellow tint of her eyes held something within them he couldn't quite place. She didn't seem to be one of the undead, but there was a decidedly questionable aura about her. If he was to fight her, Keene didn't want to get so close he wouldn't be able to properly defend himself. Stopping on a small rise a good several feet from her, he stopped in his advance and waited for her reply.
