Closed Of the Civilized Wilds[Zavya]

[Crylon Stonecraft]

2 Winter 518 It was not often Crylon managed to get out of the city. Inside the city, he felt he always had to put on a face. Using another tongue, acting so as to be acceptable to humans, covering up, constantly towered over and looked down upon in the various meanings such an expression could hold. He always felt watched. Always felt looked at for his oddness by comparison. So when he could get away, escape away from the "civilized" lands of the lake, from stares, and listening ears, spying senses focused on him, he felt he could truly be an Isur as almost no where else but at the forge in the city. He made a quick stop by the lakeshore Dojo as he had made habit, before pressing on further away from the lake and lakeshore buildings. Eventually he came to the end of such buildings, coming to land that clearly had the mark of being frequented by persons, not truly wilds but not truly civilized and tamed to a mans purpose. All he had on him was his simple clothes, a pack with a some supplies and a few simple tools such as flint and steel for starting fires or an axe for chopping wood. He also had the odd tin he had found that seemed to always have a muffin in it, stowed away in case he got hungry. Just walking along and putting more steps behind him he could feel the weight of such eyes lift off him. When he was far enough to reach some more heavily wooded areas, still marks of passage and trails but not having been cleared out yet for lumber, he stopped. Letting out a sigh he began to gather up bits of dead wood from the ground, making a small pile. It took a fair number of chimes, but soon enough he had a small but respectable pile of material, enough he hoped to get a fire going. A skill he felt he should learn, and had yet to attempt. But he had his flint and steel, and surely it could not be too hard if so many others before him had done it? He tensed for a moment in his actions as a small furry beast ran across the ground not far off, a squirrel perhaps? Seeing it was not a threat however, he turned back to the task at hand, pondering the best arrangement for the wood for making a fire before he began.

[Zavya]

It wasn’t often that Ryker and Zavya camped so close to the Lakeshore, but this excursion was only meant to be a brief one, just long enough to haul in some meat for the week. The lack of a proper winter made it unnecessary to take such long trips, as the game was just as plentiful now as it had been the season before. Without the cold, there was no need for the animals to take shelter or hide away, so there was no scarcity of meat to be found.

It was something for which Zavya was thankful, though she’d never even truly known a winter in her short life, Morwen having disappeared before she’d even been born. She was grateful for the shorter trips, since it was less time she had to spend in the company of her master. Well, less time alone… it wasn’t as if she spent much time apart from him, but at least there were usually other people around. He was still cruel to her in front of others, that never really changed, but the depths of his depravity only truly showed when they were alone. Understandably, Zavya did not relish the experience.

The only thing the Kelvic really enjoyed about these trips was the chance to walk around without her collar, to spend much-needed time in her other skin that was so lacking in her normal day-to-day. That was the form Zavya took as they roamed the edge of the tree line, massive paws nearly silent against the leaf litter. The golden tigress walked at her master’s side, intelligent eyes sifting the area for signs of game or anything out of the ordinary. She wouldn’t soon forget their last hunting excursion and the enormous dog-like monstrosity they’d encountered, and kept herself alert for anything resembling it. She had no wish to repeat the experience.

The next bell or so passed without incident, Ryker bagging a few rabbits and a squirrel or two before Zavya caught a scent on the breeze. Lifting her nose, she took a few good whiffs before her massive head turned in the direction from which it came. Not human exactly, but close, she thought, nudging her master to get his attention. A scent somewhat familiar, though sharper than I’ve ever smelled it. Gazing down at her, he frowned, before looking off in the direction she was pointed. There was something there.

With a silent nod on his part, they continued forward, the pair melting back into the trees as Ryker followed Zavya’s lead. It was only a few chimes before they found what the tigress had smelled, a small camp just under a mile from their own. It was occupied by a single man building a fire, short with an unusual arm. Zavya looked at him in surprise, Ryker equally shocked at her back. Isur. No wonder that scent seemed familiar… The Valdinox family was full of mixed blood Isur.

A rumbling growl announced their presence, the Kelvic’s teeth bared while Ryker held his sword at the ready. One never knew another’s intentions out in the wilderness, and it didn’t hurt to be cautious. Sometimes it was better to be proactive than to allow others to find them.

[Crylon Stonecraft]

Realizing he had nothing to easily catch fire, Crylon spent a few moments looking for some dead and dried leaves which he added to his various piles of material preparation. Once he had the wood somewhat sorted, bigger logs in a tent above with smaller twigs in a bed below along with some dry leaves, Crylon took out his fire starting tools. It seemed to make sense, the smaller stuff to catch the flames, which would spread to the bigger. For a moment Crylon wished he knew fire Reimancy, as that would be much easier of a way to start a fire, but knew regardless that knowing how to start a fire without magic was an important skill. He struck once, and nothing happened as the two objects bounced off each other. Not enough force, Crylon reasoned. Next he smacked the two together, which caused a few sparks but not in the correct direction. Not downward, as he intended. His next strike was not directly at each other, but glancing, similar to swinging open palms past each other but clipping each other while doing so. This time as the flint collided in passing with the steel, sparks erupted. However as he had the swing upward for the flint, the sparks flew upward. Trying again swinging the flint downward and the steel up, he managed to cause some sparks which flew down. Unfortunately nothing caught, most of the sparks not even hitting the wood or dried leaves he had placed. Still, he felt his aim was improving with each try, and thought he would manage to get a few more sparks onto his target with the next try. This was interrupted however as he heard a growl. So focused on his task, he had not been paying attention to anything else around him. In the forge this was beneficial, keeping him on the task at hand. In the wild, becoming oblivious to ones surroundings, Crylon realized this could be a liability. Crylon jumped to his feet, dropping the flint and steel into the pile of wood which promptly collapsed. His hands now empty, Crylon's gaze darted about, noticing the source of the growl first. Moving slightly, Crylon canted his body with his right leg back, and therefore his black left arm forward protectively between the rest of his body. A large toothed beast angry at him growled not far off. After a moment Crylon also noticed the man standing not far off, a human with a sword. But not quite a human. It was subtle, reminding him of the muted Isurian features of the man who ran the forge he had worked at when he first came to Ravok, but it was there after he looked. Also the beast was not attacking right away, which further led Crylon to believe that logically it had not attacked because the man was in control and not telling it to do so. Speaking in Isurian, Crylon would respond at first, though if the others did not react with understanding he would continue on afterward in common. “Izurdin's flooded forge, you two gave me a fright. Why are you stalking in the woods like that, on someone trying to make a simple fire? Is there a problem?” If the beast jumped at him, Crylon reasoned, a good blow from his left to the beast face would perhaps scare it off. If it came to that. His left arm, gifted by Izurdin, would act similar to an iron club and feel similar to being hit by one. Though he would not be the one to initiate violence, only acting to defend himself. Likewise if the human-ish person came at him, he could grab the sword if swung at him in his grip, trying to wrest the blade free. But he hoped it would not come down to that, as he did not like his chances against two foes. While he spoke freely in Isurian, his use of common was not anywhere near so clean. He could make himself understood for the most part, but much more choppily then in Isurian. “Ah, is problem? I Crylon. Just make fire. Or try. You problem? Need something?” Canting his brow ridge, Crylon pondered a bit further, deciding to toss about his old employers name if nothing else due to the familiarity of the muted features he saw. Surely there could not be too many partial Isur in the city, and it seemed reasonable that they might know each other. Logical even. “You remind Thorin. You know? Runs forge?”

[Zavya]

When it became clear the man they had stumbled upon had no ill intent, an unseen signal passed between Ryker and Zavya. A rumble sounded low in the tiger’s throat before a flash of white light penetrated the camp. Where once the massive cat had stood was now a slim woman of medium height and a leanly muscled build, covered in scars nearly from head to toe. A set of such markings much fresher than the others marred her left arm, ragged teeth marks destroying the skin of her bicep. It was a stark reminder of the nightmarish beast she, Ryker, and Einar had faced down in the woods only weeks before. She still bore other, less noticeable scars from that battle, namely a deep-seated exhaustion that had crept into her very bones.

“Thorin?” Ryker repeated in surprise, removing his cloak and handing it to his slave to cover herself with. “Aye, I know him. He’s my cousin, in fact.” He gestured to himself, then the Kelvic, unmindful of the surprise her sudden transformation may have caused. “Ryker Valdinox. And this is Zavya.”

The woman in question gave the Isur, this Crylon, a brief nod, accepting her master’s cloak and settling it around her shoulders. She kept a wary golden gaze on the stranger, and his metal arm in particular—she had little love or trust for anyone with Isur heritage, considering her experience thus far with their kind. Even if they were half-bloods, or like her master, quarter-blood.

“I apologize for our intrusion. It’s not often we run across others while we’re out hunting, and those we have… well, we haven’t always had the best experience.” Ryker offered a self-deprecating smile, Zavya’s face carefully neutral. “I’m sure you understand. The wilds are a dangerous place. Even with a bloody tiger at your side.”

The Valdinox man’s face was filled with a mild curiosity as he asked, “So, you know Thorin, eh? A customer of his? I haven’t seen him in ages. How’s he doing?”

Unlike Ryker, Thorin spent little time with the rest of his family, preferring the company of his forge over his arrogant compatriots. Zavya’s master, on the other hand, reveled in his place in society, and took particular joy in the riches and benefits his status afforded him. Zavya had only even met Thorin once since Ryker bought her, her master having sent her to the forge to pick up a special order about a season before. He had definitely seemed far more pleasant than his relations, if a bit gruff. The tigress would take gruff over cruel any day.

As the two men conversed, Zavya’s attention wandered, her sharp gaze raking through the camp as she took in every detail she could. A fire, a small pack, a little tin of food… it wasn’t much, and it made her wonder. No tent? No sleeping mat? Or was there something she was missing? Perhaps he didn’t intend to stay the night. Perhaps it was just a pleasure jaunt? Which made her wonder… who in their right mind would come out into these woods for simple pleasure?

There wasn’t an inch of the surrounding area that didn’t go under Zavya’s scrutiny before she finally turned her attention back to the man himself. Crylon, he’d said his name was. An unusual one, but still pleasant on the ear. It was rare to see full-blooded Isur in a place like Ravok, and she couldn’t help but wonder what had brought him here. For that matter, she couldn’t imagine why anyone would come to Ravok of their own free will, but then again, she was a bit biased in that regard. But then, who said he’d come of his own free will? She didn’t see a brand on his hand, so he wasn’t a slave, but that didn’t necessarily mean anything. Life took strange turns, and who knew what path his had taken? The Kelvic was curious to find out, even if she didn’t dare ask the questions herself. Perhaps Ryker would for her.

[Crylon Stonecraft]

Crylon had been somewhat distracted between the two being threatening him, that he did not at first realize what the light meant or changed. One moment he was facing a man and a large cat,a light, and next he was turning from the man to find instead a nude woman before him. It took a few more moments for him to connect this to the now absent hunting cat, as the woman having changed from that form to that of a human woman. He inspected the nude woman as a mason would inspect a wall, checking it for irregularities or points of note, of poor workmanship or signs of wear, and with as much emotion in his gaze as said mason would have while inspecting said wall. Not because she was a slave, if nothing else he certainly was not aware of that, but because as an Isur like with Kelvic's nudity and sparseness of clothing was much more normal and not something to elicit embarrassment or other emotions. No more than wearing shoes were embarrassing to humans. While the woman was short for a human she was still taller than the short but dense Crylon, of average height for his own race. She also seemed to be scarred in various spots, signs that she had been hurt or perhaps fought before. By the number of them though, Crylon could not help thinking that either she was a poor fighter... Or had been thrown headfirst into danger beyond her ability quite a few times. Though without knowing if she did so of her own choice, on the behest of another, or perhaps to defend another, he could not say what this meant about her. Depending on why she did it, he supposed, meant as much as how they were earned. He was somewhat surprised to find out that not only did the partially Isurian man know Thorin, shared his subtle Isurian features, but he also was related to Thorin. He was less clear on the woman though. Was she his bodyguard? Friend? Hired hand at hunting? He was not sure if it was any or all or none of these. Ryker Valdinox, and Zavya. As an Isur he knew that alone meant something, that he felt the woman was beneath him. He had giving his first name and family name, while only giving her first. As he had also only given them his first. It seemed to Crylon a sign of disrespect, or less respect for the woman on the part of the man. Or, he supposed as an afterthought, perhaps she did not have another name? He personally was leaning more towards the first by the way he seemed to take dominance of the situation over her. While the man spoke and went about conversing, the woman kept her eyes on Crylon. Examining. Watching. Waiting. At the mans odd apology Crylon quirked an eyebrow and shrugged before asking a few clarifying questions. “Is woods. People go to woods. Not anyone specifics spot. So why think no one be about? And Crylon here first, not follow or come after. You come at Crylon with anger. So why think enemy? You have so many enemies, think all are before find out not? Is bad way perhaps, go about making friends, no?” “Assume enemy, more likely make enemy than assume friend but be cautious. Danger assume enemy, you make enemy by action before know. Assume friend, but be cautious, only risk being proven wrong, and if then still cautious so no loss. Better risk making friend, than making enemy.” “Not so far from city, not so dangerous, surely? Is only throw to lake. Animals not much this close, not big, surely?” Crylon did understand that the wilds outside of cities were dangerous, but he would not quite qualify where they were as such. The outskirts perhaps, in the muddy grey area were the wilds and civilized places met and merged and overlapped without clarify, but not truly in the deep wilds. “I know Thorin. Thorin still Thorin. Always Thorin. Work for Thorin, at forge, when come to Ravok. Learn there. Work on craft there. Not customer. I maker, is Isur to make.” The last bit Crylon said as much to inform the man as to tell, as if he felt that the man should have already known such things about his heritage, but if he did not felt the need to make sure he was aware. And were the Isur not makers and builders and creators? Turning to the woman, Crylon met her eyes when she turned back to him. “What you think Zavya, best assume friend, but being cautious, or best assume enemy? Or think we in wilds, or not? Or you so many enemies, think best assume enemy all time, even in no where?”

[Zavya]

The Isur’s scrutiny of Zavya did not bother her so much as it seemed to bother her master, who bore it with a scowl until he realized there was nothing lascivious in Crylon’s gaze. The way he looked her over was almost matter-of-fact, the man’s face neutral and observant, nothing more. Ryker’s stance relaxed before his eyebrows were raising for an entirely different reason. This Crylon was decidedly… blunt.

It wasn’t often that others dared to speak to him so frankly, his status attracting liars and sycophants by the hoard. It was almost refreshing, someone questioning his motives. Or it would have been, if his pride wasn’t so easily wounded. As it was, he drew himself up and lifted his chin with a disdainful scoff in the man’s direction. “I’ve learned not to trust many,” he replied in a rumble, only barely managing not to sneer. “Especially strangers out in the woods who can’t even light their own fires.”

That alone should have told you not to come in baring your teeth, Zavya thought to herself with an inner roll of her eyes before Ryker went on to admit, “But perhaps we are a bit… overcautious.” He sniffed. It was the closest thing to an apology the Isur man was likely to get. “Recent experience has taught us to be.”

He, too, remembered that night in the woods with the creature born straight from a man’s worst nightmare, the same night Zavya had nearly lost her arm to the jaws of the fearsome hound. Every time they’d left the city proper since, he’d been jumpier and more paranoid than usual; neither of which boded well for Zavya. His temper was somehow even more unpredictable than it had been in the past, and her convalescence had been slow because of it. It made it much harder to recover when one was being cuffed about for some transgression, whether real or imagined.

Ryker’s demeanor shifted at least a little more to the positive when Crylon explained his relationship to Thorin, nodding in understanding. Yes, another smith made sense. The Isur were builders and makers, as Crylon said, and Thorin, even with his mixed heritage, had always fallen into that category quite well.

Crylon then turned the same questions on her that he’d asked her master, and it caught the Kelvic just off guard enough to tell the truth. Zavya was shocked that he had even spoken to her at all. Most didn’t. As soon as they saw the black sun on her hand, they knew her a slave, and thus she became undeserving of their regard. Beneath their conversation. Worthless. So when the Isur asked her whether it was best to assume friend or enemy, she almost laughed. “People are enemies, Crylon,” she replied in her raspy murmur of a voice, shoulder lifting in a shrug. “Why assume anything but what’s always been true?”

Zavya could feel the heat of her master’s gaze boring into the back of her head, but she stepped forward anyway and glanced down at the ruined pile of sticks Crylon had been trying to ignite. “Are we in the wilds?” She shrugged, debated for a moment, then knelt down and rearranged the logs and twigs to accommodate a better air flow. She fluffed the dead leaves he’d placed in the tented circle and arranged them around and between the larger logs to add some extra kindling. “I suppose. But close enough to the city that my master is perhaps too cautious. He knows the danger is worse farther out, but he always assumes the worst.” The Kelvic gathered up the flint and steel he had dropped at their approach, holding it between sure hands. She struck them together twice, then thrice before she caught a spark, angling it toward the makeshift wood pile. It took another couple tries before it finally caught fire, Zavya leaning in and blowing on the meager little flames to encourage their growth. Satisfied it would hold for the time being, she looked back at the Isur and rose to her feet. “It’s what’s kept us alive this long.”

The Kelvic offered what passed for her as a smile and handed over his flint and steel. “But people don’t always have to be enemies,” she added thoughtfully, looking back at her master, who regarded her with an unreadable expression. She held his gaze for only a tick before turning to face Crylon once more. “Sometimes it is better to assume a friend.”

Zavya’s head cocked to the side when she looked at him, scrutinizing the Isur with molten eyes. “Why are you out here?” she then asked curiously, unable to help herself. The tigress was never sure how much Ryker would allow her to speak, but he was being curiously silent. She figured she might as take advantage of it while she could, whether it was a good silence or a bad one. Who knew how long it would last? “Are you hunting too?”

[Crylon Stonecraft]

Crylon had not been in Ravok too long, compared to the many years of his life at least. There were no clans here which could draw their lineage back through centuries and millenia, no true bloodlines, excepting certain large or well to do families in the city. But not comparing at all to Sultros, the Kingdom of Isur, and the mighty Isurian clans which included his own. When Crylon thought to judge the man fairly as he saw, the human in turn seemed to almost scoff at his words. Almost dismissing, if not completely at least in part. Such rudeness was in part expected of humans, but still not nice. When people thought much of themselves for no good reason, thought they did not need to listen or learn, thought others were beneath them... That was when one saw the true core of the person, at least such was how Crylon felt. Here dealing with some unknown Isur, and some animal woman he thought equally as little of, he could see the truth of the man much better than he would in the city or among other people. Even with his apparent half thrown up facade of nicety. This man was not nice. This was further hardened as the man tried to put Crylon down for something he was not yet doing, which was in fact one of the reasons he was in the woods. “Is learn how do all things. Not learn yet, is why not yet do. How better learn, than do? Or you born, know already how do all ever do? Seems sad way do things. I learn new all time. Learn good. Not do fore, so learn.” The animal woman on the other hand seemed if nothing else more honest. Crylon grunted at the womans response. While he did not agree, he supposed if one had only run into badness among people, then they would come to see things as such. The wilds, the true ones, could be filled with danger for the unskilled or unwary. Which was one reason he was trying to learn more of them, and how to survive in them. “If only look to past, how things happen before, how know when see something new? Cannot change, cannot see change, if only focus on what came fore and act by this. Still must remember back, helps see how path will go, but if not look forward and assume more same, end up walk off cliff no?” Crylon watched as the woman worked the wood, noting the spacing and architecture of the wood, how she laid them about and with each other. It appeared she knew this task better than he, and should her fire work he would make sure to note and copy what she had done. “Prepare worst, hope best, seem better than prepare and assume worst, react as worst.” She quickly used the flint and steel to make some sparks, and caught the kindling on them. Once done she handed them back to Crylon, who stowed them along with his other excess things he did not need at the moment. The woman animal stared at Crylon, quite a serious expression after the momentary smile that had crossed her lips aimed at him. Quite serious and intent. “Is out, learn make fire, learn be in wilds. Want travel again, some day. Came Ravok. Will leave Ravok. If do, must go through wilds. So thought, learn better how survive in wilds, only be good thing yes? Start fire, seems simple first thing to learn. Though not see how do fore, so only try what seem make sense. Easier, see other do. When try next time, after see do, be easier.” Heading over to the tin, Crylon pulled it open, showing the muffin inside and holding it out before the kelvic. “Is not hunting. brought food. You want one? Is muffin. Not sure what in, different each time get one, never know till try. Some weird, but not bad.” Inside was a steaming hot muffin, as if just pulled out of an oven. Which was a bit odd, seeing as they were in the wilds. But then, perhaps the tin was made to keep the heat in, and so therefore kept the muffin hot? “You do any travels? Leave Ravok? Sylira? Not sure what all cities close, but not any too close.”

[Zavya]

“My life doesn’t have new things, Crylon,” Zavya said softly, quickly cutting her gaze back to her master, whose eyes burned into her back like the fire in front of her. “And when it does, they’re rarely good. Why react to something as if it might be good when it never is? Sounds like the perfect set up for disappointment to me.”

The tigress could practically feel the muscle in Ryker’s jaw twitching, the one that always acted up when he was angry. She knew she shouldn’t speak such boldly unhappy words right where he could hear her, but he was always mad at her, anyway. What did it matter if he got a little madder? The worst he could do was kill her, and there were days she wondered if that wouldn’t be more of a mercy than the sort of life she lived now. Perhaps she ought to scale it back at least a little, though. She still wanted to be able to walk home.

When Crylon offered her what he called a “muffin,” Zavya looked at him in surprise. She scrutinized the little morsel in his hand, leaning close to it and sniffing before looking back at Ryker as if to ask for permission. Tight-lipped and inscrutable, he nodded. His only response was, “You won’t like it.”

I’ll decide that for myself, thank you, the Kelvic thought before carefully taking the warm pastry from Crylon’s outstretched hand. It did strike her as odd that it was warm, but she declined to comment; it wasn’t as if she hadn’t seen stranger things over these past few weeks. Sniffing at it again, she took a delicate bite and let the crumbles rest on her tongue. Almost immediately, she made a face, swallowing it down with a concerted effort. Ryker was right; she didn’t like it. He hid a smirk behind his hand.

The slightly fruity taste left a lot to be desired in the tigress, who was much more inclined to the rich flavor of blood and flesh caressing her tongue. The muffin felt more like ash in comparison. “Thank you,” Zavya said, handing the remaining bits back to Crylon. Who knew? Maybe his magic tin could make it edible again. “But I don’t think this is for me.”

When the Isur went on to speak about travelling, Zavya cocked her head to the side. She could hardly even fathom such a notion. For the first three years of her life, she’d seen nothing beyond the Kelvic Research Institute, hardly even knew a world existed beyond it. And since she’d left there, she’d known nothing beyond Ravok. Of course, she’d heard tales that other places existed, but they were nothing to her. They might as well just be that. Tales. It wasn’t likely she was going to end up anywhere else any time soon.

“No, we do not travel,” Ryker spoke again at last, coming to stand in front of the fire Zavya had built and holding his hands out for its warmth. “Where I go, she goes. And why would we go anywhere beyond Ravok?” There was a spark of fanaticism in his steely gaze as it sought the depths of the flames, an outward sign of the devotion he felt toward their Father and his city. For obvious reasons, the tigress did not feel the same way, but on this, she kept silent. Even she knew where to stop.

“Rhysol takes care of his people and keeps us safe from the dangers outside,” he told Crylon with conviction, a sentiment the Isur had doubtless heard before if he’d been long on the lake. “Why travel anywhere else when you live in paradise?”

Paradise for you, maybe, Zavya thought bitterly, adding a couple logs to the quickly growing campfire. Her face she kept carefully neutral as she took her place back at her master’s side. We’re not all so lucky.

The Valdinox looked back at Crylon with a raised eyebrow. “Surely nowhere else you’ve been can compare to her glory? Why would you wish to leave?”

[Crylon Stonecraft]

Crylon returned the fiery gaze full of anger and heat with a placid one, and let a small smile come to his lips as he gazed from the man to the woman. While the man seemed angry, mainly at the Kelvic, she on the other hand seemed... Both angry, but also resolved in her situation and its unchanging nature. “If decide before do will fail, why try? Sounds you decide only bad happen, because happen before. How though any get better, how though change, if resolved to fail? If resolve to bad happen? If cobbler make sure. Make first shoe, and is bad, does cobbler quite making shoes? Or does try again, learn from past bad, past mistake, till make good shoes.” “Disappointment mean hope for better, and not happen. Seem better though to have hope, to reach for sky and only grasp top of tree, than to muddle in muck and dirt below and never try reach. If never try reach, then no chance for change. No chance for better. So no worse of if try and fail, than if do nothing. But chance not fail, and do good, if do try. Seem no reason not try for better.” Crylon watched as Zavya took the offered pastry, carefully trying a bit. She took the bit in her mouth, swallowed it, but did not seem likely to take more. Not in her taste then? Perhaps due to her animal side, Crylon assumed, but he did not know enough of such creatures to know one way or the other on that. She kindly handed it back, clearly trying to not come off as rude, but not wanting to eat any more. Crylon to be honest was not at the moment in the mood for eating either, and as he knew the tin held more muffins where the first came from. He took the muffin back, but as he had re-closed the tin he knew another would have taken its place and so did not have anything else to do with it. Instead he was left pondering what to do with the muffin as they spoke in his small camp. “If not travel, how come to Ravok? I not of Ravok. If want new people, new things, need people to come. Which means people must leave. Also, Ravok not make all. Like metal, for weapons, tools. Need mine to get metal. Need metal for make. Is found on lake? If not, must trade. Must bring in from where have. If not metal then fine cloth, rare food, things not found on lake. Like things such as, yes?” Of course, perhaps, Crylon thought, the man felt others should do the leaving and he should instead simply profit from their efforts. But even with his basic understanding of business and economics he understood that was not a sustainable way of doing things. People would not go and come back if not properly incentivized, generally by a profit to make it worth the trip. Crylon had often seen such looks, such Ravok-centracism since coming to the city. But surely a person such as this, dressed as this, would be one who enjoyed the fruits of such trade and outside goods. And would perhaps then understand why people would leave even within the tiny world he allowed to exist within his mind. “Also, if nothing to compare to, how know is good? Just because is told this? Have been many places. Cannot value something, if not see another. City on lake, is yes unique, but other places have good, bad, too. How can understand, can value something, if not seen other to compare to?” “Other places, not compare, not same. Different. Good, bad, different, is compare mushrooms to rabbit. Not same. Both good sometimes, both bad sometimes. Isur, from Sultros. Is place of stone and mountains. Harsh place, but beautiful. But very different than beauty of Ravok, of city on lake.” As Crylon spoke, he saw an animal off to the side. Moving in sudden rushes, darting up to a tree. Pausing. Looking about. Darting again. Crylon pulled off a piece of the muffin, and threw it clear of the camp in the direction of the small animal. It quickly darted off, grabbing the bit of food and pulling it to its face with both hands. It was a bit odd looking to Crylon's mind, its ears coming up to points unlike ones he had seen outside of Ravok. But then, he had not spent much time exploring the land around the city, and so had not seen much of such animals. Crylon considered asking Zavya of her opinion, of if she would want to travel if she could, but from the looks the man had given her it was clear their relationship did not allow such things. In fact, he felt that the woman might even have already strained the limits of what the man allowed, and Crylon knew if he could detect it then it was rather obvious. “If want learn, grow, must experience new. If only experience happy, safe, pristine, then how grow?” Looking pointedly at the woman, Crylon concluded the sentiment with another analogy. “Is harshness of forge, that makes metal strong. Hammer, force, heat, melt. Force, forge, into new shape. Is harsh to metal, but at end, something strong is made. Sometimes, world, its harshness, its not perfection, is whats makes something, someone, stronger. Someone who not experience this, not be tested, perhaps not be as strong as someone, something, which is forged. Which is tested.”

[Zavya]

Unlike Ryker, Zavya would’ve given anything for a life outside of Ravok. A life free of Rhysol, free of the Ebonstryfe, the Black Sun, all of it. Her life had been nothing but pain in her time spent on the lake, and to be rid of it… It would be nothing short of a dream come true. Golden eyes stared longingly at the Isur while he spoke of a world beyond the canals, a spark of wistful desire flaring to life in her belly. To see the things he’d seen, to go the places he’d gone; she could hardly conceive of such an existence. If only she could live it.

Her master’s expression held none of the same captivation the Kelvic’s did, looking down at the shorter man with the sort of arch expression that sat on his face far easier than any smile. Objectively, Crylon’s words may have been true, but Ryker had never really been an objective sort of person, especially in matters so close to his own heart. These outsiders could never understand the true beauty and glory of the utopia their Father provided, their ignorance something the Valdinox beheld with great disdain. Were their eyes so blind not to see the gift laid out before them? This Crylon, with all his muffins and metaphors, was no different than the others. It didn’t matter, though. If they couldn’t understand, they didn’t belong. The city of chaos would go on without them, and remain all the better for it.

“There is no need to compare to anywhere else,” Ryker said to the Isur, his voice slow and carefully patient as if speaking to a toddler. “I care not for the words of others, who tells me what is good and what is not… only for the truth of my own eyes. Our Lord Rhysol gives us what we need, keeps us safe, keeps us warm. We prosper and revel in our riches while so many others struggle and die. We live in comfort and beauty, while others toil in dirt and desperation. Why seek anywhere else when paradise is laid out before you?”

Zavya kept her eyes on her feet as her master went on with his impassioned speech, her lip held between her teeth as she used every ounce of her self-control to keep herself quiet. You live in comfort and beauty because of those who toil in dirt and desperation, you arrogant, self-centered prick. Molten eyes glared a hole in the ground, a sizzle of rage creeping its way up her spine and settling itself on her tongue. Just as she was about to open her mouth on what would have doubtless been a regrettable sleuth of nasty insults, Crylon spoke again—this time to her.

Head tilted curiously to the side, she listened to him speak of forges and metal, strength and tests. It seemed an odd subject change to the tigress, Zavya staring at the Isur with a complete and utter lack of comprehension. How had they gone from travelling to forges? Then again, he did say he’d worked at a forge… She simply shrugged it off due to the cultural barrier. Perhaps Isur had different conversational patterns than the people she was used to. Who knew?

The Kelvic could pass relatively well for human most of the time, her years spent unbonded enabling her to pick up on human (or in her present company’s case, human-like) mannerisms and subtleties with quicker ease than many of her kind. However, his metaphoric language was entirely lost on her, even if it was quite obviously pointed in her direction. Ryker, on the other hand, was not so oblivious to abstract thinking and double meanings, his jaw grinding yet again. This Crylon was bold. Too bold. He was not fond of the idea of his slave’s head being filled with such ideas, even if she didn’t understand half of them.

He opened his mouth to say so, but before he spoke, he could see Zavya’s attention was held by something else entirely. Turning to see what it was she was looking at so intently, Ryker snorted. A quick, alert little squirrel scrambled to gather up the crumbles of muffin Crylon had tossed his way, tucking them in his paws and shoving them in his cheeks. The Kelvic’s golden gaze was narrowed in on the creature, her body unconsciously swaying in its direction while a swift tongue darted out to lick her lips. The muffin may not have interested her, no, but the plump little morsel of meat holding it certainly did.

“Go on and get it,” Ryker told her, lifting his eyebrow and jerking his chin in the squirrel’s direction. Zavya flicked her eyes back to meet his and the ghost of a smile crept over her lips. The tigress had very few moments of happiness in her life, but hunting… it was the closest thing she got to enjoyment in her master’s company. She wasn’t about to let the opportunity pass her by.

The Kelvic looked back at Crylon, reaching over to awkwardly pat his non-metal hand. She didn’t get to converse with strangers very often, so she was never really sure what to do when was able to. “It was nice to meet you, Crylon,” she told the Isur, offering him a brief nod. For a moment, she seemed like she might say something else, something to thank him for speaking to her instead of ignoring her… for treating her like a person, instead of a thing. She briefly looked back at Ryker before taking a breath, pausing, and ultimately shaking her head. It wasn’t worth it. “Sorry if we startled you.”

And with that, she was gone in a flash of sparkling light—a massive golden tiger taking her place and bounding off after the fluffy-tailed rodent in a blur of stripes and whiskers. Within ticks, both animals were off in the woods, one on the run for its life, while the other followed in hot pursuit. The beauty of nature, the cycle of life… albeit a bit stranger than what one might usually expect in the woods surrounding Ravok.

“Nice to meet you, indeed,” Ryker echoed her sentiment, looking down on Crylon with an unreadable expression as he shifted his quiver over his shoulder. “Watch yourself out there, Isur.”

That was about the closest thing Crylon would get to a benediction from Ryker’s mouth, the Valdinox nodding in his direction before heading off in the wake of his tigress. Their interlude at the man’s campfire had lasted quite long enough. It was more than time to get back to what they’d come out here for.