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 Posted: Sat Oct 25, 2014 8:05 am
Bhima - post 3 /1
"Uh, certainly. Yes." Bhima was agreeing instinctively. Really she would have liked to stay and chat, but that wasn't a good choice either way with the battle coming. They had to prepare.
Chike nodded and tossed a bit of seed to the ground for the birds as a reward for quieting. "Be strong, girls. Aisha be with you. I hope to speak with you later, Hijil."
Bhima offered her mother a nod and then reached out, putting a hand behind Hijil as they turned and exited the tent.
"Are you alright?" she asked, once they were out of earshot. The shouting groups of would-be traitors didn't worry her. Tendaji would fight and win. They had to.
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Posted: Sat Oct 25, 2014 10:55 am
Hijil – Shifter Guard
Supply tent – With Bhima, getting ready
Food! Yes. This was good. Ath was pleased her efforts had procured the tasty, meaty seedy treats. She pecked at them, pleased. Good. The Green lady had gotten the message...
Later... Hijil didn't exactly feel dread: it was a more muted concern. Next time, later, she would have little choice in excuses. There would be fewer ways to escape from the mix of feelings that she felt at meeting Bhima's mother. And there would be a next time, and a next and a next because the woman, Chike, was Bhima's mother, and Bhima loved her mother.
”I'm fine.” she said, quietly. But as she said it, she knew it was a lie. Lying – to anybody, but to Bhima especially – did not set well with her, and it curled swiftly in her gut like a striking snake. ”... fine enough.” she amended, stopping it before it could strike. ”I... don't know.” She touched Bhima's hand gently, ”I'm sorry.”
She did need to put her gauntlets on and shore them up with newer, stronger materials than the pieces of insect carapace she had found in the jungle. The excuse had been true – they did need to prepare. Using it the way she had felt... wrong. As wrong as the lie of 'fine' still felt, even though she had neutralized.
”She's... nice.” Hijil managed, looking at her gauntlets as they gleamed dully, red against the dark Jahuar wood of the work table, ”Your mother.”
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Posted: Sat Oct 25, 2014 11:15 am
Bhima - post 3 /1
It only made sense for Mama Chike to want to speak to Hijil. Her daughter had run off on the pretense of finding a lost love she had known nothing about, and then had come back with a Shifter. Although her mother assuredly was more accepting of the race now that they had all banded together, it worried Bhima that she may be disappointed. It didn't matter, though. She had found Hijil and they were together now. That was all that mattered.
"No, no, it's fine," she said, shaking her head as Hijil led them toward a work table. They did have preparations to make, but their retreat had seemed hasty. It must have been difficult for Hijil to meet any member of Bhima's family, and that coupled with the fact that she had lived alone on the beach for so long...
"We can talk with her some time when everyone is less stressed. I'm sure she's just curious. She is nice. Mama Ishida probably would have stared you down, so count yourself lucky there. If we make it known that you do not feel well enough to talk, we won't talk. It's as simple as that." She pulled some thick bandages from her bag and began to wrap her hands in an attempt to avoid any excessive damage to them. Who knew how long this battle would last, or if she would be so lucky as last time to still be standing when it was over? The thought caused her to worry her lip.
"If I'm wounded, I want you to continue fighting." She didn't feel as if Hijil would make any other choice, but also felt like it had to be said.
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Posted: Sun Oct 26, 2014 12:12 am
 UQUIN Post 1
xxxxHealing Tents
Uquin nodded at Mella's consolation, knowing that it was the best he could hope for - that Pahana and Ujana had remained where they were before, and not wondered off - although at this point it may have been better to take the girls somewhere that wasn't about to be overrun with bloodshed and horrible sights. Quickening his pace, and pulling Mella along with him, the auburn-haired healer didn't look at his companion when she finally asked the question.
It was such a ridiculous story, now, in retrospect. But he couldn't help but feel bitter for it. It wasn't that a scar marring his face was something he cared about - before Mella he hadn't bothered to wonder what he looked like, past the occasional glance in a still water surface. It just wasn't important, not really. But there was a certain... confidence that a healer instilled in their patients when they were whole and healthy. With one eye possibly out for the count, it made him wonder if anyone would look at him and find him unskilled somehow.
Healing was ... a very hands-on art. Once war time passed, there would still be the threat of intertribal conflicts - a battle ready healer was a must. Would others trust a healer who only had one eye on the battlefield, and could miss what was going on out of his non-existant periphery? It worried him.
So he hesitated for a moment, walking until they were outside the tents. Then, he pulled his arm, albeit reluctantly, from Mella and turned to face her, giving a shake of his head. "It was a cut from a blade - a sharp one, at that. Biroki's daughter... aggravated a patient, who lost their temper - I assume he feels it necessary to take responsibility, but I know the risk of treating patients." Uquin shrugged it off. He had known the risks- he had merely thought, before, he was prepared for the possibility of injury by a hysterical patient. Somehow, being sliced by someone who seemed more than gleeful to do it hit him the wrong way, however. It was strange, not being able to sympathize with someone who had been under his care, but now in retrospect he only felt resentment for the man.
Shaking his head, Uquin turned from Mella before she could respond and peered into the tent. "Padma?"  PADMA Post 1
xxxxHealing Tents
Padma watched Biroki, ignoring his fidgeting and instead staring at him, in that overly intense way that she had inherited from her father, unblinking and focused - until he agreed. At which point she smiled impishly and mashed the bright berries in her hands, rubbing her palms together until the juices coated her palms, staining them red and turning into mash between her fingers. Immediately, she plopped to sit on the floor of the tent and adjusted the tunic her papa had had her wear, spreading the bright-red paste against the fabric to make patterns - dots with her fingertips, and stripes with a stroke of her fingers.
By the time her papa called from the mouth of the tent, her hands were a mess, cheeks stained red where she occassionally rubbed them thoughtfully, dress covered in vibrant red, childish patterning and drawings. When she stood she whiped her hands on her clothed hips, leaving handprint streaks, then scampered outside, grinning broadly and giving a twirl. "Papa papa, look - how is it?" Then she realized the girl was still here, and stopped, looking up at her curiously, then looking around for her little lizard friend as subtly as possible.
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Posted: Sun Oct 26, 2014 1:00 am
Nera
Location: Sleeping Tents
Company: Lucijah
Post: 8
Even though the tone was gentle Lucijah’s insensitive words cut Nera in a way that made the youth wince ever so slightly, with forced bravado the redhead tightened her jaw to prevent the expression of hurt from claiming her features as her twilight skinned lover made her way to the water basin then back. After everything she had been through she had expected the snowy-haired brute to collect her in her arms and make all of the aches and horrors disappear like a distant nightmare but the unsettling political jargon that flowed between them erected a wall of discomfort for the battered prentice.
“Gentle now,” hoarsely instructed Nera through gritted teeth, as the leather slipped away from her feet strings of yellow infected viscera gave way with a wet pop. Twin brandings donned the insides of her soles glaring viciously up at Lucijah with a patchwork of gnarled skin oozing with various fluids from the freshly exposed wounds. “Goddess be praised” Softly hissed the lean-figured Oban, her voice wavered and cracked as her tone dropped off into a whisper then faded completely from earshot. “It hurts . . . so badly. Will--- w-w-will it s-s-scar?” There was no doubt that the flesh would forever be marred with the unsightly marking, like an animal being claimed by its master.
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Posted: Sun Oct 26, 2014 2:41 am
The meta will now continue in a new forum! Head over to The Final Battle to continue.
You may count this as an NPC post.
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