♛ H A N E H T ♛ ∆ E Y P H A R I A N ∆ W/C: 720 61st, Summer 518AV Late noon |
Late noon was upon Lhavit, sunbeams bathing the entirety of the city of glass a rich gold, cutting through the unusual fog that decorated the city. Even in strange weather, the Gem of Kalea continues to shine, glorious and magnificent as ever. Amidst the many denizens scuttling about walked an outlander, ambling towards a very specific studio apartment, basking in Syna’s divine light as he went along. In a few more bells was due to rise.
Meeting Raeyn seemed to have put a wrench in Haneht’s plans of avoiding Mara whenever he could. Restless mind was unable to erase the memory of the gorgeous, flame-haired man from the Zintia Rest, gold and white tunic resplendent against beautiful patchwork skin. Sky blue eyes, oceans of wisdom and emotion, framed by snowy lashes. Streaks of white lacing his magnificent red mane. Effortless beauty that even his seemingly permanent scowl and unfriendly demeanour had failed to conceal, only dulled by the exhaustion he carried. Last they’d met, Raeyn had looked remarkably close to keeling over, exhaustion clear as day in the rings beneath his eyes. A little on the edge, too, but he’d been unsure if that was a normality for him. In the end, temptation got the better of Haneht and eventually led to him seeking Mara in hopes of locating his irrisistably pulchritudinous hunter. Who, by the by, had turned out to be Mara’s twin, and had been worrying her with his recent unusual behaviour and directed Haneht to him, strangely eager and pleased with Haneht’s interest in Raeyn.
Granted, he may or may not have exaggerated their relationship.
It was only after they had parted ways, and perhaps with a little retracing on his part, that the Eypharian vaguely remembered the events that had transpired on the evening, and subsequently night, of the Shooting Star Inn’s yearly summer banquet, and its attendees. The Inarta flock - he snickered, pitiful attempt at humour still vivid in his memory - that he had pranced over to merrily and nearly fell flat on his face in front of; Raeyn had been a part of it. Albeit a little drunk, but Haneht had been anything but sober himself. It made plenty sense now, why he hadn’t been able to remember the striking Inarta hunter from the banquet. Still, it was proving fairly difficult to associate the night’s quiet, mild-mannered banquet attendee with the seemingly foul-tempered man who’d threatened to pepper him with arrows. Haneht would’ve thought them twins instead of the same person had he not run into Raeyn weeks later, at the Divine’s Gateway in a free lesson on Wild Djed.
Wild Djed that, though Haneht knew little of, was fairly sure were the reasons for the dark, violent thoughts that had emerged in him as of late, sweet temptations that once, long ago, had roamed the depths of Haneht’s mindscape. It was a bit perplexing, frustrating even, when one couldn’t truly tell if such thoughts were truly their own or merely from overexposure to Wild Djed. Made him want to wrap his fingers around someone’s throat. Perhaps Mara’s, for the audacity to welcome him into her Inn so warmly, the maddening resemblance she bore to Haneht’s sister, his sister, his beautiful, radiant Ahnouk. Sometimes, it felt as though Mara was trying to replace her, trying to take up the mantle of Ahnouk. A goddess-queen of Haneht’s own little world - whose lonesome, desolate temple sat quietly in his heart, all but forgotten. Blasphemy! ‘I ought to snap her pretty thin neck.’ Smiling like a Cheshire, his lips gravitated downwards when his thoughts settled.
Wild Djed. What an absolute nightmare.
A sticky dampness in his fists reminded him of where he was, and the youth would blink, eyes clearing and senses recalibrating to his current surroundings. A door. Whose door? The freshly picked, meticulously curated bouquet of wild flowers in his fist—he’d forgotten they were there, how silly of him—with stems pitifully crushed between tightly wound fingers. He relaxed his grip. So much for an apology gift, lamented the dancer. At least, the sentiment was there.
“Raeyn?“ He rapped on the door in two sets of threes, double the amount of when they’d met at the Rest, remaining hands linked by the fingers behind his back. “Is the big bad hunter home?”
Meeting Raeyn seemed to have put a wrench in Haneht’s plans of avoiding Mara whenever he could. Restless mind was unable to erase the memory of the gorgeous, flame-haired man from the Zintia Rest, gold and white tunic resplendent against beautiful patchwork skin. Sky blue eyes, oceans of wisdom and emotion, framed by snowy lashes. Streaks of white lacing his magnificent red mane. Effortless beauty that even his seemingly permanent scowl and unfriendly demeanour had failed to conceal, only dulled by the exhaustion he carried. Last they’d met, Raeyn had looked remarkably close to keeling over, exhaustion clear as day in the rings beneath his eyes. A little on the edge, too, but he’d been unsure if that was a normality for him. In the end, temptation got the better of Haneht and eventually led to him seeking Mara in hopes of locating his irrisistably pulchritudinous hunter. Who, by the by, had turned out to be Mara’s twin, and had been worrying her with his recent unusual behaviour and directed Haneht to him, strangely eager and pleased with Haneht’s interest in Raeyn.
Granted, he may or may not have exaggerated their relationship.
It was only after they had parted ways, and perhaps with a little retracing on his part, that the Eypharian vaguely remembered the events that had transpired on the evening, and subsequently night, of the Shooting Star Inn’s yearly summer banquet, and its attendees. The Inarta flock - he snickered, pitiful attempt at humour still vivid in his memory - that he had pranced over to merrily and nearly fell flat on his face in front of; Raeyn had been a part of it. Albeit a little drunk, but Haneht had been anything but sober himself. It made plenty sense now, why he hadn’t been able to remember the striking Inarta hunter from the banquet. Still, it was proving fairly difficult to associate the night’s quiet, mild-mannered banquet attendee with the seemingly foul-tempered man who’d threatened to pepper him with arrows. Haneht would’ve thought them twins instead of the same person had he not run into Raeyn weeks later, at the Divine’s Gateway in a free lesson on Wild Djed.
Wild Djed that, though Haneht knew little of, was fairly sure were the reasons for the dark, violent thoughts that had emerged in him as of late, sweet temptations that once, long ago, had roamed the depths of Haneht’s mindscape. It was a bit perplexing, frustrating even, when one couldn’t truly tell if such thoughts were truly their own or merely from overexposure to Wild Djed. Made him want to wrap his fingers around someone’s throat. Perhaps Mara’s, for the audacity to welcome him into her Inn so warmly, the maddening resemblance she bore to Haneht’s sister, his sister, his beautiful, radiant Ahnouk. Sometimes, it felt as though Mara was trying to replace her, trying to take up the mantle of Ahnouk. A goddess-queen of Haneht’s own little world - whose lonesome, desolate temple sat quietly in his heart, all but forgotten. Blasphemy! ‘I ought to snap her pretty thin neck.’ Smiling like a Cheshire, his lips gravitated downwards when his thoughts settled.
Wild Djed. What an absolute nightmare.
A sticky dampness in his fists reminded him of where he was, and the youth would blink, eyes clearing and senses recalibrating to his current surroundings. A door. Whose door? The freshly picked, meticulously curated bouquet of wild flowers in his fist—he’d forgotten they were there, how silly of him—with stems pitifully crushed between tightly wound fingers. He relaxed his grip. So much for an apology gift, lamented the dancer. At least, the sentiment was there.
“Raeyn?“ He rapped on the door in two sets of threes, double the amount of when they’d met at the Rest, remaining hands linked by the fingers behind his back. “Is the big bad hunter home?”
