Closed The Welcome Party (Various)

[Colt]

It was in retrieving the fuel by the travois that Shahar noticed Rue’s arrival––something not altogether unexpected.

Greetings, “Rue,” Shahar said, pleasantly surprised. You come, stay awhile eat? They had enough for another seat around the fire, although by the look of her burdens she had come with additions of her own.

Hefting the thicker pieces from the pile, Shahar returned to the fire and sat. The smaller kindling went first, followed by a rough pyramid of larger sticks and grass, and only then––but no, he didn’t even need the paper-thin layer; the twigs were already catching on fire. One step skipped.

Shahar continued to put on steadily larger pieces of fuel, although he kept a wary eye on this… Jalen. He was still a stranger, and having Rue in the vicinity did nothing to ease the hunter’s caution. He knew very little about Jalen aside from the fact that he was injured and capable of surviving in the grasslands for far longer than was appropriate.

Shifting to give Rue a place around the fire if she wanted it, Shahar continued to build and feed the flames, then cast his gaze back to the travois––it would be big enough to put on the pot soon.

[Khida]

A reminder, the Chaktawe said. She supposed that was true of tattoos in general -- the windmarks of the Drykas commemorated their Strider, after all. Khida nodded briefly, accepting the answer at face value; she had no reason to do otherwise. He and the hunter went on to rebuild the fire.

Meanwhile, another shape emerged from the darkness -- a familiar profile, hair red like the flames the men sought to awaken. Welcome, Khida signed to the Drykas woman, echoing the lengthier greeting from her bondmate. She didn't give Rue's apology the dignity of a response; it deserved none. The Kelvic did spare a moment to eye said bondmate, who still radiated a caution she didn't quite understand. His focus remained with his tasks, however, and she opted not to disturb it.

However, since Rue just happened to be here... Khida draped the robe over her arm, took up the kit, and rose, walking out to join the others around the fire. She paused across from Jalen, unabashedly making a closer study of his tattoo before turning her attention to the newest arrival. Come see? she signed at Rue. She would have added help, but that gesture wanted her other hand, which was not now free. Instead, she simply offered the pile of cloth to Rue for her inspection, should she be so inclined.

Common | Pavi | someone else

[Jalen]

Jalin took notice of the flame-haired girl approaching from Endrykas, nearly standing from his place by the fire. Khida and... the man, whose name he still hadn't learned, didn't seem overly concerned. Neither did the stranger, who stepped up to the fire with barely a glance his way. The hunter regarded her favorably, apparently welcoming her to join them. The three conversed in the strange foreign sign and the Chaktawe felt frustratingly out of place. Unsure of whether to introduce himself or stay out of their business, he remained silent. He longed to be back where people would understand him.

Shifting to the side, he gladly surrendered construction of the fire to the Drykas. As the girl joined them it felt as if the man's caution towards Jalen had increased. Protective, perhaps, of this newcomer? Fine. It would be foolish not to be wary of the stranger. Jalen didn't trust them, and if the feeling was mutual there would be no love lost.

Khida joined them from her perch, stopping to stare at the marking on Jalen's face. Have some decent human courtesy, woman, he thought, lowering his face to gaze into the fire. The next time he was on the road he would have to obscure the tattoo somehow. Questions would not do him any good, and if someone recognized it he'd be in even worse trouble. The glow of the low flames flickered in his eyes as he kept to his thoughts, content to let these strange horse people converse among themselves.

OOCLame short post, sorry.

[Naiya]

"I would love to stay." Rue, glad at reassurance of her welcome, settled in the offered place. "I brought some extra food, bread and sausage, but I don't know if I brought enough for all of us." Rue glanced once again at the stranger, peering at him through a well placed curtain of hair. "I did not expect a guest beyond myself."

She would have continued on to introduce to the stranger, politeness dictated that she should, even if she wasn't entirely sure why the non-Drykas man was there. However, Khida presented her with a wonderful reason to postpone introductions when she signed her greeting and sought her attention. "Of course, I will see." With the others in the camp that - at least in some degree - spoke common, Rue felt that efforts to build her own vocabulary should be made.

When Khida was closer, the unidentified cloth became more clearly the brown robe she often wore. "I wondered what you were working on." Rue told her, peering more closely at the fabric. All goes well? The signed question was a general query, for it wasn't quite light enough for an inspection to be of much help. Maybe once the fire had grown large enough for cooking, she would be able to examine the handiwork that the other woman wished.

The stranger seemed discontent, especially with Khida's inspection of his face, though she imagined the Kelvic woman was really only interested in the tattoo there. He even gave up in his work on the fire which had seemed to interest him, which was strange to Rue. Perhaps it was the caution with which Shahar regarded him, or even her own reluctance to speak to the stranger. She didn't even know what language he spoke, though it seemed relatively clear that he did not understand their Pavi.

She could do nothing yet to help him, though perhaps she could offer him some bread to go with dinner, in the same way she would offer an apple to a strange horse to gain his trust.

[Colt]

Rue obliged and settled, displaying the food she had brought with her. Shahar nodded in gratitude, subtle relief; it would be easier to eat if boiled rations wasn’t the only thing they had available. That was enough of a prompting for Shahar to rise from his seat and return to the travois in pursuit of the rations and the pot itself; the sun had completely descended and the light would not last for much longer. He wanted everything he needed to look at by the fire before that happened.

He had filled his waterskin with the express intention of using it for dinner, and so once the spit was set up and the pot hung over the coals, he had little left to gather. The skin was emptied and the water left to heat on its own; Shahar settled back with the rations and his knife, cutting them up and tossing them into the pot in uneven chunks.

Khida had approached Rue with her robe in hand, not a trace of uneasiness on either of them. That lack of discomfort managed to pierce Shahar’s knot of worry against his will, and it warmed him enough that a bit of the tension eased from his body. The Jalen was unfamiliar, yes, but also did not seem to pose a threat; perhaps there was something to be said for a less than gruff interaction.

Turning in his work to face the Chaktawe, Shahar tilted his head and regarded the newcomer. He knew full well that Jalen understood neither Pavi nor Sign, but they both shared Common––however uncomfortable the language might feel. Finishing one clump of rations and moving smoothly to the next, Shahar did his best to open a dialogue.

“Hay-len,” he said, although his voice was still somewhat rough from disuse. “You name, Hay-len?”

[Khida]

The seamstress peered at the pile of cloth, and asked if all was well. All of what? All of them? Certainly, there was an undue amount of tension in the air, in the silence of the strange Chaktawe and the silence of the hunter. Khida looked between them, at the man who stared into the fire and at her bondmate who busied himself with cutting food.

She weighed that silence for a moment before coming to a conclusion: all was not unwell, at least. All well, the Kelvic affirmed in the dim light afforded by their fire. All well indeed, as her bondmate went on to address the stranger, apparently beginning the ritual of introductions. Good; it would be uncomfortable if they avoided one another all evening.

The red-haired girl made no motion to take the cloth, and she had already established it was too dark now to continue work, so Khida put it aside. She surveyed the camp, then, seeking something she could help with. The two Drykas between them seemed to have the meal itself well in hand. It would not take too long to cook up, unlike a proper stew; they would need bowls in short order, and those she did not see in the shadows about the fire. Crossing the camp, the Kelvic ducked into their tent -- and paused upon emerging, looking towards the dark and silent tent which belonged to Hope.

Between the hunter and herself, they owned four bowls, all now stacked in Khida's hands; not enough for all of them and two additions. Hope, she guessed, would not be joining them tonight, if she hadn't by now; but one bowl would have to be hers. It wouldn't do to let the quiet girl go hungry... and it wouldn't be the first time the Kelvic and the hunter had shared.

Resuming her progress back towards the fire, Khida set her own bowl beside Jalen, a stack of two plus a large cooking spoon near Shahar, and finally offered the last to Rue as she rejoined the other woman.

Common | Pavi | someone else

[Jalen]

The fire was a mixed blessing. It reminded him of nights spent with his tribe--happy memories, but they made his heart ache with nostalgia. Sitting here alone among strangers, thoughts of family left him feeling hollow and lost. The women signed at each other over a piece of needlework, regarding it in the fading light. They seemed so at home here. Even the man was relaxing, settling in to prepare the meal. His manner was still cautious, but Jalen felt no ill-will from him.

Heart heavy, Jalen extended his hands to the flames. Warmth spilled onto his palms. If he focused on it, he could feel the flickering of the fire in the air. It was so subtle you almost missed it, an ebb and flow of vibration accompanied by the occasional leap of a spark. It rose and dissipated steadily, like a river running out to the sea. At the same time the chill of evening descended and Jalen shifted forward, submersing himself the glow of the fire. Briefly he worried that it would make his face more visible, but he pushed the thought away. There would be no hiding the mark from them now, not without arousing suspicion.

The man spoke, and Jalen looked to him in surprise. He'd shown no interest in idle chat before. "Ha-len," he clarified, putting stress on the 'ah' sound. It wasn't the first time his name had been mispronounced, he doubted it would be the last. The camp lapsed into silence again for a moment, before he decided to try his luck at continuing the conversation. "And you? Your name?" He spoke clearly and slowly. Perhaps if he could get the man talking Jalen could figure out just what it was he wanted.

As he spoke Khida returned to the fire bearing bowls. Reaching, he stretched his right arm to accept the proffered dish. A twinge of pain rolled down his side, and the muscles protested. Sucking in air between his teeth, he dropped his hand and hugged his side. Apparently he hadn't regained full range of motion yet. Muttering a curse under his breath he let Khida set the bowl beside him and continue on. The pain passed swiftly, but he kept his right arm relaxed. Gritting his teeth in frustration he picked up the bowl with his left hand. Hunger had been gnawing at him since he'd woken up, and he willed the cook to work faster.

[Naiya]

A soft smile played across her lips, Shahar's relief making her all the more grateful she had picked up food on her way. There were more mouths to feed this evening than usual, and she could help fill them.

Shahar stood, moving into the growing dark out towards the darker form of the travois. Leaving Rue to focus on Khida, who after a moment seemed to decide her project with the robe was going well enough, or at least well enough to put aside the project until another time.

Rue nodded then, accepting the change of plans brought about by the setting of the sun. She reached out towards the fire, placing her hands near the stones that shaped the pit. A few on her side were too close to the fire to help, but there was an oddly shaped stone that would serve well enough. The heat of the fire warmed the stones, and she could use that gentle warmth to warm the bread while they waited for the stew. So she tucked the bread there, careful not to let it fall into the fire or the surrounding cinders.

Khida moved away from the fire next, following Shahar's return and his dive into speaking to the stranger across the fire. "Hay-len," she tried the name softly, echoing Shahar's pronunciation, only to find the man correcting a name softer still than the original. "Ha-len," she said again not quite loud enough to be heard, but rather a hopeful movement towards being able to pronounce it later.

Khida reemerged from the darkness, appearing across the fire where she offered this Jalen person a bowl, he started to take it, but then stopped, a strange motion sort of curling him into himself. The flickering of the fire made his face difficult to read, but even so it was clear that something hurt.

Khida continued around the fire, setting bowls in reach of Shahar, and then offered Rue her own bowl. "Thank you." She volunteered, taking the offered bowl.

Then with a calculating glance at Jalen she asked Khida, "Is he hurt, this Jalen?" She hoped to speak only loudly enough for the Kelvic beside her to hear, as not to disturb the tentative formation of conversation between the two men, but with the crackling of the fire it was difficult to tell what would be heard and what would be overheard, she signed as well, thinking perhaps if her voice was not heard, the woman could gather from her signing.

[Colt]

At his attempt to pronounce the foreign name, the Chaktawe repeated the sounds he’d made, this time emphasizing the first syllable. Shahar paused in his cutting to absorb the word, then tried again.

“Hah-len? Ha-len.” That sounded closer. Shahar continued his cutting. It was a quiet name, ‘Jalen.’ Not unlike the name ‘Shahar,’ he mused; pronounced best with a whisper, and not the easiest of names to shout. Shahar liked quiet names, although admittedly he didn’t have much experience with them.

“And you?” Jalen asked. “Your name?”

Shahar looked up and tilted his head. You. He was talking to him, obviously. Name. That was a word he knew well enough.

“Shahar,” he replied, speaking just as quietly as he had with the name ‘Jalen.’ More than a whisper, but less than real speech.

Khida and Rue continued to sign, settling farther into… well, it wasn’t exactly comfort, but it was familiarity. In due time, Khida carved her own path to the travois, returning with––ah, yes, he should have remembered that they would need bowls.

Good, thank you.

She continued around the fire to offer one of the bowls to Jalen. Although the black-eyed man reached for it, his wound would not lay silent at the motion; Jalen folded in what Shahar could only presume to be pain, clutching at the injury. Unbidden, concern ghosted over Shahar’s posture, and he paused again to see if the stranger needed help. But no, it passed over him and then disappeared; Jalen picked up the bowl with his uninjured side, and Shahar took the cue to return to his cooking. That hadn’t been worry he’d felt, had it?

Surely not. Shaking himself, Shahar failed to notice the barest hint of relief that flickered over his shoulders at the Chaktawe’s recovery.

Rue had made to warm the bread, and all of the rations were soon in the pot; it wouldn’t be the most elegant of meals, but it would be simple and filling and would feed all of them. Shahar imagined Jalen would be hungry; he didn’t know how long it had been since the last time the man had eaten.

Almost time, Shahar said as he glanced into the pot. The hot water had softened and cooked the meat for the most part, and it now looked less like water with things in it and more like a proper stew. Not much, but enough. A few more minutes and they could eat.

[Khida]

The men exchanged names, dialogue too simple to be really called conversation. Around those words, the night remained quiescent, the crackle of the fire and the susurrus of simmering water the dominant sounds in this winter eve. Even insects were silence with the cold, and the herds of the Drykas beyond evidently settled in to rest. The prevailing quiet let Khida pick up on Rue's words as she settled back in beside the woman. She glanced over, then replied with straightforward sign: yes.

That was the only answer she provided, as it was the only answer the query explicitly demanded. Besides, Khida didn't actually know the particulars of his injury, except that it had required he stay with the medics yesterday. She looked towards the Chaktawe in question, who had by then recovered from his attempted reach. He walked, he spoke, he watched the bubbling pot with the attention only a healthy appetite could inspire; clearly he was not too terribly wounded. Khida was pretty sure that if he could eat, he would recover just fine. Which was really all that mattered.

Almost time, the hunter's hands shaped, and Khida nodded in acknowledgment of the statement. Ready is? she asked of Rue, gesturing towards the loaf of bread the other Drykas had brought.

Khida space Common | Pavi
other space Common | Pavi