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 Posted: Mon Jul 07, 2014 3:18 am
The feeling of being stuck in limbo, not furthering her goal in any way, continued to gnaw on her consciousness, but working herself bone tired and reacquainting herself with calluses of swords and work (of which she'd been familiar, as a youngling, and yet now was unaccustomed) was a full time duty these days, and oftentimes she could push the concerns away until the dead of night.
This morning though, after appearing at the cleared bit of land (which the Obans had wasted no time in cutting down to make more room for the troops) that most troops used for training, she was told by a messenger about her age that her teacher had 'more important duties' to attend to, and would train with her on the morrow instead. Surely he expected her to practice her grips, probably to practice stretches or aerobic exercises ('Your stamina is painfully lacking, truly a spoiled wifeling', he would sneer no doubt.') - but Shalvesta, unused to this sort of dedication, hardly thought it would be looked down upon to at least delay for a short while. With her husband's sword strapped to her back, and her wooden practice sword tied by a sash to her belt, Shalvesta took to walking along the edge of the camp, watching other soldiers at training.
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Posted: Tue Jul 08, 2014 1:38 am
Several mornings had come and gone since Nera found herself a runaway in the purple and red grove of the Jauhar forest, the little burrow that she had constructed underneath a tangle of gnarled roots from a broken and upturned tree had become a fixture in her survival. Each night the girl dragged her taunt belly across the earth as she slid into her shelter face first then wiggled at odd angles until she found the juncture that she had dug out with her bare hands. It wasn’t much but the tiny den served its purpose, glowing crystals jutted from the walls of the warren and a thick bedding of leaves composed the interior workings of the shelter; never in her life did Nera expect to find comport in such squalor and yet at the end of the day when she snaked her way into the earth like a worm returning to the soil from which it came she was contented with what greeted her.
This morning however upon waking up with at the brink of dawn the short-haired Oban discovered that her den wasn’t just acceptable to herself but also seemed to be rather coveted by other less bipedal creatures looking for a nice warm spot to spend their arduous nights. The substantial weight pinned against her flat chest eventually roused Nera from her heavy slumber, blurry eyes squinted open then fluttered closed again before finally managing to soak in the dull light from the crystals and focus into the gloom of her lair. Jiggering mandibles twitched in place and large round insect eyes stared back at the girl; unblinking and deeply focused on her face. The oddly shaped horn on the center of the beast’s head pushed up ever so slightly until it rested just off center of her neck laying gently on her skin.
“Aaaaaaaaaaaah!!!!” The sound tore away from Nera’s throat before the prentice even had a moment to register that it was she who had made the ungodly noise, panic drained the hue from her face and instinctively her hands went to protect her exposed neck. In response the Maglardilla jerked backwards and let out a high-pitched shriek of its own before flailing its legs and extending its torn membrane in effort to look intimidating. A myriad of thoughts crashed together inside of Nera’s mind as she felt for her backpack and deftly hurled the last of her dried fish at the odd creature in hopes that it would flee.
The cutlet of fish hit its mark but instead of driving the creature from her nest the crunchy-framed insect let out another squeal of terror and drove forward scrambling across Nera with its tiny pointed nubs until it hit the back of the warren where it proceeded to turn to face the girl and scream at her once more as if attempting to say ‘I’m confused!’. The Maglardilla wasn’t a beast that she was accustomed to seeing however she had read many text that described them but nothing she could have read would have prepared her for waking up with one on her chest, especially since the books she read all explicitly stated they never come down to the forest floor. Whatever the little thing was doing it obviously had no clue on how to do it, inching backwards Nera wriggled through the narrow hole blocking the tunnel with her backpack as she made her way towards the exit so that the creature couldn’t follow her and maul her exposed face in the process.
Upon emerging the boyish redhead found herself sprinted away as fast as her limbs could carry her, it wasn’t that she scared but being woken up in such a manner had her body fueled by adrenaline and the only sound she could hear was the pathetic cries the poor thing made as she abandoned it and the constant pulse of blood rushing to her ears. The dark ground blurred and everything in her path remained unfocused as the petite, self-proclaimed prince of pout fled into the wilds with disregard for her own safety. The chemical of fear surged into her system overriding any logic that would have told the teenager to slow down and show more caution yet it wasn’t until Nera found herself standing in the middle of a clearing with dark-skinned, yellow-gem incrusted soldiers thrusting away at practice dummies did her feet adhere to the dark soil underfoot. “Oh s**t.” The words fell away from her lips like a whisper yet the sounds carried across the open field like a clap of thunder. Bright pink hues widened and for a moment Nera felt that perhaps if she turned and fled in the direction that she had come that everything would be alright however out of the corner of her eyes one of the designs on a banner caught her attention. The sigil belonged to one of the King’s high ranking officials; one that wasn’t her mother which meant that this camp was governed by someone else. These troops weren’t general Talial’s men and women, these people, her people, were friends and would welcome her with opens arms. “COMRADES!” She greeted while swinging her arms open to show she was unarmed. Though her voice was jovial the lean-figured Oban physically seemed exhausted and rather in need of a bath. “I seek refuge.”
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Posted: Tue Jul 08, 2014 10:18 pm
Deep within the jungle a young Oban girl was shrieking and scrabbling away from a strange creature, her cries loud in the immediate vicinity. But such was the nature of the Jauhar jungle that the sound was muffled by the humidity slick trees, and if any sort of disturbance made it out of the jungle and to the clearing where the Obans had sloppily extended their camp, it had been decayed to the point it was shrugged off as some animal being hunted, the far-off scuffle of alarmed creatures skirting up trees and shaking the thick branches of the trees hardly a cause for concern.
Shalvesta herself barely gave the small commotion far off a thought, and instead soon came to a stop along the fence line that she often busied herself at, leaning her arm against it and watching the helmeted fighters. Once, her presence would have been a distraction, but now she was a common sight here - and other than a few wary glances from the other soldiers watching, the lady was ignored. She preferred it this way - she ignored them, in turn.
But even if the soldiers ignored her, it was impossible for ANYONE assembled to ignore the sudden crash of branches being knocked askew, and by the time a figure skidded gracelessly into the clearing, she had half a dozen spears pointed her way. Shalvesta, leaning as she was against the barricade between the training yard and the main camp, tensed up and gripped at the wood as if for support, instantly ashamed that her instinct wasn't to instead grab for her sword. A poor warrior she would make, yet. To all assembled, it was impossible to tell what blood the figure in front had. Once her clothes may have been as brightly hued as any of the soldiers assembled, but now it was mussed and stained by mud. For a long moment, it was hard to discern any differences between her and the 'savages' who lived in these parts.
But as she spoke, her tonage of the common tongue the same as any other Oban, her arms swinging open, a few of the soldiers lowered their spears, while others stared, aghast.
Shalvesta's eyes widened. This was an Oban. Under the dirt, it was impossible to tell the gender or the age, at least for her - and from afar the clothes looked like the loincloths of the native people here. Before she realized it, she had ducked under the barricade and stepped past the gawking trainees, her heart hammering in her throat. Perhaps -- perhaps this was one of their missing people? Had this person been a captive, kept among the natives only to escape and somehow make it here? She didn't know - but the risk of the soldiers gripping this person and sweeping them away where Shalvesta couldn't learn anything was too big a risk.
The voice from this person sounded young, but Shalvesta didn't want to make any assumptions. All of the assembled soldiers, at this point, were trainees and the few higher ranking soldiers that were assembled to teach them basic spear jabs - and these higher ranking soldiers had begun to step forward, just as Shalvesta reached the other Oban's side. "Where did you--"
"O-oh, you poor thing! Of course, anything you need. I ... I have a bath, and food for you, right this way!" Shalvesta exclaimed, just as one of the Soldiers got to the stranger's side. She didn't much like acting like some ignorant, meddling noble - but the look on the soldier's face made it clear he was annoyed, but not engaged enough to risk a noble's wrath by removing her plaything from her grasp, so in this case it was the best tactic to use. He grunted, glowering at her before he forced his gaze away and instead turned back to the gawking trainees, barking orders to return to their exercises.
By now, Shalvesta gripped one mud-encased arm and tugged the slightly taller figure with her, not flinching at the mud, despite being a noble. She'd been sweaty enough from training as of late to stop caring about not being clean, and even before she'd never cared if her garments were streaked in mud or not.
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Posted: Wed Jul 09, 2014 4:26 am
‘I seek refuge.’ The moment that those words tumbled off of her lips a grin as wide as a chasm formed on her face, the expressions that the warriors wore and the way there eyes hardened and locked onto her simply sent a shiver from the base of her neck down the curvature of her spine. Essd be praised, it felt so good to be noticed even if it was at spear point, though to Nera it mattered not; she knew that no harm would come to her the moment she told them that she was General Talia’s sole heir. She would watch them grimace and recoil, she would make them bend their knees to her for showing such hostility; today she would show them mercy though for they were merely doing the labors that common soldiers did, perhaps not the ones that lingered with their blades at the ready but those that lowered their weapons at her proclamation of sanctuary would be lower on her list of retaliation.
‘Where did you- -’ Sneering at the tone that was directed towards her the high-spirited redhead had already whirled to face the speaker, a soft pink tongue curled in the moist confines of her mouth and the venom of her next remark already began to lace the tip of the oral appendage which she was about to let whip the Oban dog into his proper place. But the moment never came, nor did the harsh choice of words she had already begun to formulate in her head.
Warm hands had firmly clasped onto her bare forearm and the euphoric sensation of pleasant attention swelled inside of the lean-figured tomboy until it blossomed into something akin to the dizziness of being intoxicated. Tender, proper, well-enunciated diction however brought Nera back to her senses. Where were her manners, she knew full good and well that her mother had beaten plenty of those into her when she was younger as did her au par, however the girl remand silent, her mind suddenly catching up to the events that lead to the current moment. She had defected, ran-away from the main battle of her people and yet she now stood surrounded by troops, if she said one wrong thing she could easily find herself in prison or worse. The choking invisible snare around her throat tightened until the youth physically reached up to her own neck and attempted to sooth the tension that she felt building there. What she needed to do, what she had to do was something that she had perfected since she was old enough to speak, she needed to craft the most intricate work of fiction that that she had ever composed in the history of her short life. Bowing her head Nera allowed her narrow shoulders to slip forward and her head to slump downward as if she suddenly were overcome by weariness. Moving her hand that had gripped her throat down the front of her chest she tightly fisted her once yellow body wrap and forced her arms and legs to quiver ever so slightly. Lying was her specialty and this would be her masterpiece.
“Thank you,” she began, it was a good start. Every lie needed a decent start and she knew that weaving her tale would require not only words but a full performance, physical, verbal and above all emotional. “I didn’t expect such kindness,” Nera allowed for her voice to drop in pitch and she quickly yet tactically glanced at her own body, the mud did well to obscure her figure and the filth seemingly made her look a pathetic mess but her mind reeled back to her mother’s books and reports, she knew exactly how a prisoner would act and she had already in some degree bollock that up, but she would do her best to repair the small crack, in fact she would use it to add depth to the store she was brewing in her head, keeping her head down turned she would forcefully flinch any time the other woman would look at her and lightly avoid eye-contact as if she were a beaten animal. “I-i-i-if it is alright. C-c-could I be f-f-fed first? It’s been so long since I’ve had a h-h-hot meal.” That wasn’t exactly a lie, she had been surviving off of smoked fish and an array of fruits and nuts that the canopy of the jungle provided to her but she hadn’t actually had a cooked meal since the first two or three days she spend in the wilds. It wasn’t a proper meal, it was savagery and a taxing task meant solely for survival, nothing like the food that her people knew how to prepare. Bringing her hands up to her bright pinkly colored eyes the androgynous prentice rubbed at the tear ducts with her soiled fingertips, lightly irritating them until they glistened ever so slightly, the duration of the act merely appeared as if the redhead were truly trying to save-face and stifle her unshed tears in public. “I’m sorry . . .” Nera’s tenor broke in the back of her throat and her voice came out thick and raspy, shifting her weight some she jerked her wrist to her eye and pressed it at the corner, a deep frown had claimed her facial features as if she were angry for just a split second as she made eye-contact with the slightly shorter Oban woman. “I wasn’t strong enough---” It appeared that she wanted to spat the words out as if overwhelmed with self-loathing but the firm statement degraded at the last word and Nera choked and made her eyes go wide then squeezed them shut, agony contorting her face; mimicking shame and distress expertly.
Scarlett Arbuckle omg Nera baby . . . you so good at acting, all the awards go to you~
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Posted: Wed Jul 09, 2014 10:47 pm
The moment before Shalvesta reached the mysterious stranger's side, it seemed that the mud-covered figure had turned near-steely eyes on the Soldier who came to chastise them. But that reaction quickly faltered when Shalvesta reached their side, and soon enough the two were walking away, the protests of the Soldier forgotten, apparently, in the mind of this stranger. Shalvesta would have expected someone who had come from the possession of the strange savages to be touch sensitive - and had half prepared herself for some sort of response, like a yank of an arm or a shove. What came was quite the opposite - the person followed along almost dazedly, falling into silence as if shocked that simply stumbling into a camp and shouting for help had worked. If anything that shock only convinced Shalvesta more that she had suspected true, no coercion necessary.
At first, Shal kept her gaze steadily on the mud-streaked face of the gender ambiguous figure, but the gesture of one hand, almost black at the fingertip from smeared, dried mud, which had settled under the nails thickly, towards their neck made her look away, feeling like she was a voyeur witnessing a private moment. She only looked back when, suddenly, the figure - who up until now had been walking with a sort of ingrained regality, slumped - the shoulders dropping, the hand dropping to tug at the stained cloth swept around their shoulders as if it were a lifeline. The quivers, a fine detail indeed, were hardly noticed by Shalvesta, who instead stopped in her walking to instead stare at the figure's face.
The thanks caught her by surprise, and before she realized it she was flushing in shame. She had been so eager to tug this person away to interrogate them that she had truly forgotten that they must have gone through a lot. 'They would have been interrogated by less sympathetic figures if you hadn't, though.' Her mind soothed, and Shalvesta took a deep, steadying breath, then forced a smile onto her lips. She might not know the panic of feeling of relief of a countrymen escaping from their captors and making it to a near-bastion of safety, but she could at least understand that this person needed a calm, caring touch right now.
Once more, upon realizing the person was turning their eyes away whenever she looked at her, Shalvesta rose her gaze instead to the path and continued their walk. She didn't seem to think that smiling bravado, or the simmering anger she'd briefly witnessed towards the soldier were strange. To Shalvesta, she thought it must simply be relief at finally getting to see familiar people - then horror at being doubted, and questioned after what must have been a horrible ordeal. "Mm! Yes- yes, of course! We have p-plenty." She gushed, quickly, wincing at her own stammer. It was more an effect of her own misuse of her voice over the years, and when this person had gone through such an ordeal she feared her own stutter would come off as her mocking.
Thankfully they'd arrived at her tent and Shalvesta drew the flap open, releasing her soft grip on the figure, ducking outside to wave down a guard, who the captain had left at her tent to guard her, asking for a meal and for hot water to be prepared for a bath. It was through him that she got her meals, usually delivered by a young steward, or one of the much younger prentices who ran around the camp, servants taken from home to serve the nobles here. Her instructor had taught her some basic survival skills, but since she was being trained with a sword, and had to squeeze these tidbits out through idle conversation, she had not had a practical lesson in starting her own fire, or heating her own bath water.
The thought of relying on servants, when she used to be independent as a child, still sickened her, but being the coward she was she distracted herself, usually, by focusing on other things - and it was only in moments like this that she realized how truly useless she was. Pinching her eyes closed for a moment, Shalvesta thought for a long moment on what to do in the meantime - finally settling on doing what small good she could, while the food was being prepared. She ducked back inside, forcing a soft smile as she lit a lantern, which was settled on a makeshift desk inside the tent.
It was at this point that Nera continued her 'act', even if Shalvesta was falling for it thoroughly. The fellow Oban rubbed at their face, managing to smooth more mud over their cheeks, but when they looked up their eyes were glistening with tears, and Shalvesta felt herself take in a deep breath, moved by the other Oban's plight - and somewhat startled by the sudden apparent self loathing. Had this person been tortured into revealing information? Or simply bemoaning that they had been captured? "N-no!! These-- these are a people we don't understand." Shalvesta said softly, moving to pull some preserved meat and imported preserves from home from a bag, presenting them to the figure in hopes it would distract them from their sudden turn in mood. "You are... you are so b-brave for making it back, on your own. It is-- it is unheard of, truly!!" She continued, waiting until the food had been taken, or passed over, before she moved to retrieve a waterskin. Shalvesta just wished her words somehow assuaged this person's apparent weight of shame, but she didn't have much hope that her words would help much.
What she COULD do was tend to this person's physical needs as best she could and, at least in that, she was not completely out of her depth.
When she'd first come here, she wondered why there were no open basins of water, like there usually were back home. Here, apparently, bugs and insects bred in the water, leading to sickness and plague - so the water had to be covered and boiled before use. Back home, it was so dry that any fresh water used for drinking, cooking, or bathing was from springs deep underground and, as such, rich with minerals and beneficial to drink from the source. She did what she could, for now, with the waterskin - pouring it onto a wash cloth she used when she bathed, and holding it for the other person to take.
"I'm Shalvesta - You can stay here until a more permanent place is made for you. ... Wi-will you tell me your name?" The question came out very quiet, pink eyes gazing at the red-head infront of her out of the tops of her eyes.
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Posted: Fri Jul 11, 2014 9:31 am
Nera had continued in her actions the entire time that they had walked until they reached the other woman’s tent. Even when she entered the prentice found herself pouring all of her effort into her current endeavor. Trudging in the short-haired Oban glanced from side to side as if nervous about what lurked within the confines of the small living-space. The moment Shalvesta released her arm Nera forced her body to quiver as if being jostled by some unseen force, the movement was subtle at first then intensified in the most natural gradual manner until the youth physically had to lower herself to keep from falling. Instantly thin arms that held lean muscle dragged the backpack from her shoulders into her lap and wrapped around the dilapidated carrying case.
Burrowing into the material the girl rested her head, apparent exhaustion claiming her completely; at the sound of the woman reentering the tent Nera flinched and squeezed onto her backpack tighter then forcefully raised her head until her eyes barely lifted enough to make contact with the swordsman in-training. The gentle words that the other woman spoke to her made Nera smile internally, she thought that she was brave for returning on her own, she must have thought her some sort of heroin, if her mother ever caught wind of this she no doubt would finally show some affection to her ‘war-hero’ daughter. For a long moment the prentice didn’t reach for the offered food instead she merely stared at the floor or at her backpack but after a few deep breathes she outstretched her hand and took the dried meat and the offered wash cloth and brought them towards her face.
Biting onto the corner of the water soaked fabric the girl suckled at the piece of cloth softly mewling as if the water were the best thing she had ever tasted before ripping her mouth away from it and sinking her teeth into the jerky with a snap of her canines. Chewing softly Nera slowed her movements and carefully dragged the wash-cloth across her arms and face as if in a haze while she attempted to clean herself.
“Nera,” she stated in a voice that was gruff and lackluster. “General Talia’s daughter----- my mother!” Jerking herself into a standing position the redhead floundered for a moment with the effort, a wild look in her bright pink hues. “My mother! Is she here?! Is General Talia at this camp! I have to speak with my mother!”
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Posted: Sat Jul 12, 2014 1:01 am
The poor thing was shaking so badly that Shalvesta found herself biting her lip to keep from making a sympathetic sound, her hand fisting at her side to resist reaching out to touch again, wanting to soothe but unsure how to do it. Leaving the tent after that was hard, but once she returned the sight was somehow even more painful. The fellow prentice looked like a small child, in that moment, curled in around a horribly ratty bag, quivering horribly.
Though Shalvesta was a bit of a liar in her own right, she couldn't fathom the idea of anyone who would willingly, and so convincingly lie about their circumstances - and so the idea that this fellow Oban was lying never crossed her mind. Shal was used to the hollow, tittering lies of court life, not the lies about basic survival, not like this. It was all so convincing - with the food outstretched, Shalvesta blamed the girl's reluctance to take it as some sign that, perhaps, she had been taunted with food in the past.
'What horrid creatures ARE these people?' She thought, horrified, her heart breaking in her chest as the dirty teen in front of her finally reached, taking both outstretched items as they were offered. Now -- Shalvesta had intended for the cloth to be used to wash her face and hands, as eating with mud caked under ones nails couldn't be pleasant. If anything the eagerness to slurp every drop of water from the cloth made it seem like Nera had moved past the need for cleanliness, so great was her need for sustenance, and it made Shalvesta feel ashamed as soon as she realized it, ducking her eyes and flinching almost as if struck with her foolishness.
Only after quenching her thirst, allegedly, the girl finally remembered she was dirty, caked in mud - and began to half-heartedly wash her arms, chewing hungrily. "Nera." Shalvesta repeatedly, slowly, finally raising her eyes to the girl again. But when the girl continued -- Shalvesta flinched back, eyes widening a bit. A General?? Shalvesta didn't know a General Talia, by name - though it was possible she'd been in the same room as her, if they both lived in the capital. It was simply the realization that this person -- a female, if the name was to be trusted, which made the fellow prentice feel even more ashamed at thinking the dirty figure to be male, that meant she had somehow just spirited away the daughter of a general. Had this girl been taken in by the soldiers, her treatment may have been rougher at first but she would have been given much more respect, after revealing herself - and her mother would probably be fetched as soon as possible.
Startled, the girl leaned back, away, from Nera when she sprung to her feet, biting her lip and raising her arms infront of her, almost as if to protect herself, before she realized the sudden motion wasn't to shoot forward to strike her, but merely to stand. The sudden motion sent Shal's heart into her throat, and briefly tears pricked at her eyes, but she forced herself to calm down. Perhaps it was Nera's somewhat boyish look, but instinctively Shalvesta almost feared her - and the sudden, jerky movements and horribly familiar wild-eyed stare made her shake despite herself.
" N-no- not at this camp -- a general -- a general would be with the advanced units, surely?" She suggested. But she had no clue about warfare, so she wasn't sure how far away the general would be. There were many Oban troops here - it could be the generals were assembled close, or perhaps a few hours' walk away, Shalvesta didn't know. "I could -- WE could -- send a letter. A letter to find her, a messenger would... would maybe know where she is. Yes? We'll find your mother, but you s-should sit and eat first."
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Posted: Sat Jul 12, 2014 9:45 am
The dedication that she was exerting in this strange role came so naturally that the redheaded youth nearly forgot that everything she had said from the moment she arrived were a cross-stitch of lies and deception, the sympathy her comrade administered upon her filled her to the brim with gratification which acted as a catalyst to continue with the intricate falsehood. Nera forced herself to stand in place while forcing a ragged breath between her teeth, the hysteria in her eyes she allowed to slowly diminish and the fire that had suddenly exploded from her to dwindle then expunge completely; bright pink hues soaked in the fear that the woman known as Shalvesta openly displayed and quickly formulated how to use it to her advantage.
Blinking slowly the lean-figured prentice recoiled in a manner like a beast that had realized it had done something to offend its master. Carefully Nera lowered herself to the spot that she had claimed, flecks of mud littered the floor and the dropped piece of preserved meat rested off to the side nearly forgotten, thin digits twitched and wrung at the fabric of her simple shirt until the knuckles grew pallor from the grip that increasingly tightened at the loose garment. Everything had to be gradual, she couldn’t force herself to cry like before not with the other woman staring at her so intensely instead the short-haired girl opted to loosen her grip and allow her hand to fall to her side as if giving up and slowly vacated her face of any emotions.
“I didn’t mean to,” she began, the soft light that had just a moment ago been in her eyes faded over with a lackluster dullness. “You’re a woman--- I don’t--- I don’t,” drawing her hands to her waist she pulled at the rope belt ever so slightly as if she were about to disrobe where she sat. “I don’t know how to make it up to you,” Nera forced her voice to trail off and become dry as if she were recalling a memory that pained her exponentially. “Normally I would just lay on my stomach for them, until my punishment was over--- please… I am so sorry… I don’t know how--- to fix it, please don’t tell the others I was bad, please. Please don’t.” The hand on the thick belt she wore clenched and willowy exposed legs clamped shut with a tremble, sinking her teeth into her cheek Nera fought back the scream from the pain and instead just allowed tears to pour down her filthy, sullen face. “I want my mommy, I just want my mommy, please no more, please. Make them stop hurting me, please.” Bemoaning in a voice that was not only fragile but laced with a child-like nuance added a dark layer of realism to what the redheaded girl was implying. Twisting her hands around her middle Nera hugged herself and sobbed only into the bend of her arm while scrapping her toes along the floor as if anticipating having her legs forced apart without her consent. In the back of her mind the prentice cataloged the information and stored the details for later in case she needed to rely on it again.
Several moments passed and Nera refused to look up, her body was rigid and the way that she clung to herself made everything that she had stated all that more believable. It wasn’t until the youth with her boyish frame pried her head up and looked directly towards the swordswoman that she allowed her face to contort in a somewhat relieved manner as if she suddenly remembered that she wasn’t being held captive by the beasts of the jungle. That brought up a question to be answered, what race where her captives? How many? Internally scoffing at the small details that she would elaborate upon she returned her attention to her surroundings, reaching out slender fingertips she scooped up the bag once again and brought it to her chest while reclaiming the jerky that she had absentmindedly discarded. Awkwardly she shoved the parcel into her mouth and gritted it between her teeth until the dried shaft became moist and tender with rehydration from her saliva. “I’m sorry about that, I don’t—I don’t know what got into me. I forgot where I was for a moment I guess. I’m sorry.” Breaking eye contact once again the barely clad androgynous prentice coiled inward on herself once more while stuffing the food into her mouth as if afraid someone would soon take it away from her. The spices from the cured meat played along her palate and greedily the youth suckled on her fingertips even though they were still filthy, savoring every last bit until the only thing left was mud greeting her tongue. “Thank you for the meal.” Nera muttered in a somewhat watery voice, she made it clear that she was ‘assuming’ that would be all she would be receiving for food, the girl even went as far as to offer the thinnest of smiles towards the guardian wifeling with her well-kempt red hair. “I’m thirsty . . .”
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Posted: Sun Jul 13, 2014 1:00 am
Still shaking from her sudden scare, Shalvesta finally allowed her eyes to flit up from where they'd fastened to the ground and, instead, peeked at Nera again. Only - now, the girl was staring at her, the eager calls for General Talia falling silent, and instead she simply stared. It was... unnerving. For a moment, those eyes searched her own, and it felt like they were floating in a strange limbo together, neither sure what to say. And then -- then Nera startled backwards, her own jump much like Shalvesta's from only a moment ago, only much more pronounced, before sinking down in a smooth, careful motion as if monitoring any quick motions, for Shalvesta's sake. The girl would have been thankful for the consideration - only the expression on Nera's face hit her in such a strange way as to make her feel uncertain. So she stood, her hands still slightly raised in defense, slowly dropped, pressing instead against her chest as if to try and settle her startled heartbeat with her hands.
Finally though -- the now blank faced girl murmured out some sort of quiet, dull placation - and for a moment Shal had no clue what she was talking about. ...Yes, she was a woman - what was Nera --
Then the hands dropped to her belt, and Shalvesta startled away as if she had been struck, her hip bumping into the table that held her letters and inkwells - spilling it off the table so the black ink she used to write home soaked into the floor of the tent, making her suddenly thankful that it was grass and dirt stamped flat before the tent had been erected, and not tarp or arranged wood like in the noble's tents. But... oh, gods, Nera was still going, and it was like watching a horrid nightmare, or a memory - only in her case she immediately felt foolish and horrified for the thought. How could she dare to compare her own history to this woman's, whose anguish was still so fresh - and who had been surrounded by an enemy.
At least Shal had known her enemy - known that she didn't expect a knife across her throat at any moment. And yet the more the girl pleaded infront of her, the more Shalvesta simply wanted - NEEDED away. And yet she couldn't move - she had somehow leaned her hand against the desk, staining her fingers in black ink, her body shaking in nausea. Her eyes were wide, head pounding and it was only with a startled gasp of breath that she realized she had forgotten to breath. The storm of emotion and cries and begging and calls for a mother that Shal had no way of finding, at this moment, eventually quieted - and the tears, with sobs that tore Shal as if a creature was carving into her flesh with ivory claws, subsided gradually.
After this fit, having that girl looking at her as if RELIEVED -- Shalvesta couldn't bare it any further. She rushed from the tent, and only barely made it outside before she was vomiting, violently heaving, her arm curling around her belly and one hand clutching the pole that kept her tent upright, shaking like a leaf and emptying her stomach as if she had been rendered ill by some poison of the jungle. Eventually she had nothing but bile to give, and only then did she stand again, redfaced and sweating, tears streaking her face, drawing her arm across her lips - and coming face to face with a startled, staring messenger.
"General -- General Talia. Nera -- say Nera is here." She gasped, spitting a mouthful of saliva into the grass before she stood, still gasping for breath and took the tray of prepared food (military food though it was, it was better than a stick of jerky). She then stepped back into the tent, dazed, making it over to Nera's side and slowly moving to set the tray infront of her. "... Don't... don't eat quickly. You'll get sick." She advised under her breath, her eyes distant and somewhat fuzzy. She blinked them, then set the tray fully down and stood again, walking to retrieve the waterskin - which she took to Nera and gave to her, for her to drink or use. The water for her bath had to be gathered from local water sources, boiled and cleaned for sanitation and parasites, then heated back up for bathing purposes. For a soldier they'd have to prepare the water themselves, but being a noble had its perks.
After a moment Shal stood again then slowly sat on the bed, running a shaky hand through her sweaty hair, closing her eyes against an impending headache.
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Posted: Wed Jul 16, 2014 8:16 am
Everything was happening so scripted, so precise that the moment the Oban woman knocked into the desk sending the inkwell and its contents onto the floor Nera realized that the things she had been implying must have struck close to the trembling youth known as Shalvesta. Deep down the redhead felt a twinge of guilt which she let become clearly visible upon her face, worry lines settled in her brow and her bottom jaw sagged ever so slightly. Clear pink eyes watched as the shorter Oban physically paled and rushed through the flaps of the tent’s entrance, the leather folds did nothing to mask the sound of the girl retching or the splatter the contents of her stomach made against the ground; stifling a gag of her own the solidly-built prentice curled in on herself more and burrowed into the fabric of her backpack until she found the small lump at the base of the sack that brought her comfort. Kneading the soft spot Nera closed her eyes and pretended instead that Mister Google was in her hands and pinned against her chest, the small pink stuffed animal always soothed her nerves when they were uneasy and now she needed that more than ever.
‘General - - - General Talia,’ a sharp intake of oxygen flooded her system, both lungs inflated the point that her ribs ached against the overstretched organ tissue, had she really wanted her mother to find out her location or was everything she had previously said boiling to a head all too quickly. ‘Nera - - say Nera is here.’ Apprehension attempted to settle in her churning stomach however the boyish Prince pushed the sensation down, she knew her mother and in that knowledge she found herself relaxing. General Talia was the sort of woman that wouldn’t diverge from her orders, whatever task she was fixed upon would be saw through until the end more than likely she would send a courier to fetch her or perhaps a letter telling her to stay where she was until she was able to come to obtain her in person. She wouldn’t be here when that happened, she would be off again into the wilds, maybe even head to Tate or the Frozen north of Zena, anywhere that her mother couldn’t reach her.
The sound of the tent flap reopening instantly made the handsome youth shrivel into a tightly knit ball of limbs, she had for a moment lost herself in thought but corrected her demeanor within a fraction of a breath. Food was set down in front of her as was a waterskin and the only thing that passed between them was a murmur that fell so gentle upon her ears Nera had to strain to understand the words. Turning her attention towards the bowl and plate offered to her pink hues scanned the contents before deciding what to do next. A thin cutlet of meat paired with two different sides of vegetables produced a light steam on the flat platter, a small chunk of hard bread and what looked to be tiny bowl of broth also greeted the girl, the broth seemed fragrant and little slivers floated at the surface making it far more alluring to her senses then the slab of marinated flesh, she had eaten fish nearly every day for the past several weeks and the thought of the flavorful hot liquid easing down her throat warming her core excited far more than grinding and sawing her teeth on the no doubt tough steak. Lifting the small bowl in her hands Nera went about sipping the light soup then digging into the vegetables. “Say Shalvesta,” hazily words fluttered past barely parting lips. “I’m sorry if I upset you. Truly I am.”
Gripping the cutlet of meat between her thumb and forefinger Nera brought the intact cutlet to her lips and sank her teeth into the cooked fibers.
. . . . It was tender and juicy.
Shock overrode the expression on Nera’s tanned face and a light hue of pink rose to the surface of her cheeks painting them a girlish shade of floral red. “Wow . . . I didn’t expect it to be so good . . . normally the meat is tough and tasteless. Half of the time they boil the meat so it takes less time to feed the troops. This tastes like it was cooked on a seasoned skillet. . . . but normally they only prepare meals like that for high ranking officials or …” Nera found herself trailing off for just a second. “Royalty . . . Shalvesta . . . does that mean you are a member of the upper class? . . . and I made you sick . . . oh Essd forgive me . . . I made a lovely princess sick by my mere presents . . . I’m so sorry Shalvesta.”
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Posted: Sun Jul 20, 2014 1:37 am
Shalvesta continued to breath, hard, from her previous illness, her hands shaking. As soon as they straightened her somewhat mussed hair, she settled her hands in her lap and watched the woman infront of her, pink eyes raised to watch her in quiet speculation. She hoped that nothing would... trigger the woman into another presentation of the apparent conditioning she had suffered, for both their sakes. Once she properly looked at Nera, she noticed the furrowed brows and slight worry in her face. For a moment her hands were delved deep into the ratty backpack she'd kept with her (must have been one she took with her when she fled, but it looked to be Oban in make - perhaps she'd retrieved her goods before escaping?), but slowly she drew them out and looked, instead, at the meal that had been presented. Of course, Shalvesta had received the same rations as any soldier - but with the recent deal made between her father and the captain, they had certainly been making more of an effort to get on her good side - to treat her as the noble she (technically) was.
Even if, at times, Shalvesta wished she was a soldier - at least then it would be easier to go about her business without constant inspection.
As she sat, rubbing her eyes, Nera inspected her meal - and it didn't occur to Shalvesta how strangely high the quality of the food was until she opened her eyes and found the girl sipping at the broth, peeking up at her. The words - the words, though, were a soft apology, and Shalvesta felt her breath hitch at hearing it. "I... no. No, Nera, that isn't... please don't apologize." She said, quickly, looking at her lap - anywhere to avoid looking at the girl's face. But when she dared to peek up at Nera again, the girl was eating her meat slowly, as if thinking about something - before shock suddenly rose onto her features. Shalvesta blinked, furrowing her eyebrows as Nera began explaining how the food was cooked, for troops. As the girl continued though, it was Shalvesta's turn to blink, until her eyes widened and she gaped at Nera - princess? She-- she thought she was royalty? " What -- no, Nera, I'm not -- I'm not a princess!" She squeaked, flushing and hunching her shoulders slightly. And to think that Nera thought her presence had done it??
"I'm just a lower noble - I'm not a princess, not at all."
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Posted: Thu Jul 31, 2014 2:37 am
Panic lashed out with its fang’s bared and sank deeply into erratically beating cardiac tissue injecting the four chambers with nauseating regret, each contraction in her chest pumped the animalistic anxiety and shame into her bloodstream poisoning her limbs and making her silvered tongue thick in her mouth. A member of the royal family sat just a few feet away from her and all she had done was spew lies from the moment she met her, it was too late for a change of tactics; she was far too invested and devoted to the mendacities to try and unravel the yarn and knit it into something that would fit more soundly with the noble. Giving tussled crimson a shake of clarity Nera forced herself to bring her attention back onto the even-complexioned woman seated on the military cot towards her left.
“So, you’re not a princess,” the daft words had formed at the base of her throat and somehow had managed to creep to the foremost point of her mind when she pushed her lips apart and attempted to speak. Gears slipped off their internal tracking and the sudden pang of remorse that she felt envelope her senses dissipated the moment her breath took audible form. There was no need to fret about the fabricated truths that she spun, soothing her nerves the handsome youth bowed her head respectively and sank her teeth into the well-prepared meat once more; incisors tore into the marinated fibrous tissue and the tongue that once felt as if it was swollen by bees effortlessly pushed the morsel to the far most section of her mouth were the molars eagerly began grinding twisting the chuck together with her saliva readying the bite for ingurgitation. Shalvesta was a noblewoman, born, bred, an ideal ally by definition. Keeping the charade flowing in the right direction if done properly would have so many more rewards than just being a hero in the eyes of her mother. Power and persuasion would follow. “Sorry, I’ve just been through so much… thank you for the meal.”
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Posted: Sun Aug 03, 2014 5:50 pm
It was true that earning the pity of a noblewoman could earn you an earnest patron. Then again, most lady nobles had money of their own they could dip into - or a husband to run to to expound on the woes of their chosen object of interest. Many nobles weren't wont to bestow many gifts on someone they perceived to be lesser than them - but with Nera being a member of a military family (daughter of a general, even if she didn't recognize the name), surely any number of noble families would be happy to take her under their wing. They could feel good about themselves, aiding what they saw to be an ailing soul, bragging about their generosity at dinner parties to friends - and all without the suspicion that their money was being used by 'ill deserving' people.
Nobility often actively looked down on, while simultaneously NEEDING the protection of the military, after all.
However Shalvesta wasn't a noble who would be much help to Nera, beyond the press of asking for bathing water and food. After the stunt she pulled with her in-laws, running off to the battlefront, she doubted they would be eager to afford her her husband's money anytime soon - nor even a touch of her small dowry to use for investment. Her mother-in-law and sisters-in-law, and their well respected husbands, already thought her simple and daft - no, they'd be sure to see her well taken care of, but never allow her access to that money.
So Nera's convincing act would do little to earn her more than a warm heart and sympathy. Not that the young prentice would know that, of course.
For now Shalvesta watched the girl, biting her lip and watching as the panic over simply speaking to a perceived 'princess' slowly dissipated. While Nera continued to eat, a call from outside her tent caught Shal's attention. She raised from where she'd sat and walked outside, peeking out to see three boys - each carting two buckets of steaming water. She directed them around the back of her tent, where a small partition had been erected for her privacy, and a bucket (which came up about knee high, with a smaller bucket for pouring water over her head) was settled. The boys poured the water in, leaving two more buckets to be used to wash Nera's clothes, bowed, then went back to their other duties.
A true noble would no doubt have perfumed, dried leaves and flowers to pour into the water, turning it a milky white and letting it exude a flower-like aroma- but for Shalvesta she had pure water, which was enough for her enjoyment. She finally returned to the tent, gesturing to the muddy girl. "There's a bath - here, for you to use." She announced quietly, turning her eyes away. Surely the girl needed help cleaning her clothes, at least, but... seeing what she'd gone through Shal highly doubted she'd want anyone near her as she washed herself.
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Posted: Fri Nov 21, 2014 2:21 am
Nera continued feeding herself, hand over hand, slowly, each movement precise and calculated with purpose. Hooded hues watched the noblewoman for the longest while until a slight noise came from outside and Shalvesta stood and calmly left the tent for just a few brief moments. Upon her return the redheaded whelp had pushed her empty platter to the side and pulled her knees to her chest waiting for the curvy-figured woman to give her attention once more. At the sound of Shalvesta’s hushed murmurings Nera brought her hands around to the front of her clothing and squinted towards the direction that she motioned towards, a hot bath sounded far more inviting than she had anticipated and without thinking the youth stood from her seated position and made her way towards the offered basin. “You really are too kind,” hoarsely uttered the prentice in a voice that wavered yet again. “It’s alright, if you stay while I get cleaned up. You don’t make me uncomfortable.”
Dropping the yellow colored garments from her slender yet muscled frame Nera slipped over the lip of the tub and sank into the steamy clear liquid which instantly grew murky at her presence. A sigh escaped the girl and heavy eyelids fluttered shut, even during her ruse she knew she could exude the actions of savoring the comforting heat and allow for herself to enjoy the way the water instantly alleviated the ache in her body without it being damning to her ploy. “My mother even though she is a general, she always made sure that our baths were extravagant. Once a week she would warm cream and mix it with mineral waters, we would soak for hours and just talk. Then afterwards we would rinse off with water then sponge ourselves with this balm she had specialty made by local artisans, it would be either a floral or citrus scented, it wasn’t like oil but the smell would last for days afterwards just the same. I bet she smells like flowers right now.” Babbling idly Nera submerged herself deeper into the murk until the water lapped against the nape of her neck and collected in her dark red hair. “I should have washed my clothing before I got into the bath. I am senseless.”
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Posted: Fri Nov 21, 2014 4:43 pm
Senseless? Shalvesta begged to differ - if she had been caked in as much mud as this poor thing, she'd have dived into the water just as eagerly. Averting her eyes, despite Nera's kind assurances that she wasn't uncomfortable, Shalvesta knelt to gather the stripped away muddy clothes, which sagged heavily in her hands thanks to the mud and grime on them. Nevertheless, after so long living in utter cleanliness - the feeling of grime under her fingers felt welcome, especially if her help could make another person feel somewhat better.
It was more worth than she'd had in a long while, she thought to herself. Shaking her head, Shalvesta finally peeked up at Nera and cracked a small smile. "It seems like a fond memory... I hope that you are able to return to her and have a proper bath, soon. For now I hope this suffices.
But... no - no, I'll get these washed. You can use my clothes, until they are clean." Gathering the dirty outfit in one arm, Shalvesta stepped to a small bag she had used as she traveled here and removed from it the simple sleeping gown that she had brought along, as well as a pair of loose, woolen trousers, for warmth. Setting them within reach of the tub, along with the drying cloth ( a soft, slightly perfumed thing that was the height of elegance she'd allowed herself).
Nera's clothes, in the meanwhile, were carried to the door of the tent, where Shalvesta knelt and carefully tugged the drying mud from it, smacking it with the palm of her hand against the grass until the thick clay crumbled away, leaving dirt-smears behind. The smears were much easier to clean than lumps of dirt, she reasoned to herself.
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