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High-functioning Hellraiser
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 Posted: Mon Oct 17, 2016 11:17 pm
This is a private RP between Ririka and Thalion. Quote:  Tir | Ririka | WC: 383 Quote:  Gremio | Thalion | WC: Quote:  Stormhelm | Thalion | WC:
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Posted: Mon Oct 17, 2016 11:18 pm
The hot season was starting to lose its grip upon the land. No longer did the sun sit in the sky as long as it used to. No longer were the plants blooming in passes, and the small critters moving around in masses. Instead the world was starting to become cooler with each lowering of the sun. Now the plants, both big and tall, were starting to lose their lush green color. Such green shades were now being replaced with vibrant reds, oranges and browns which painted the forest floor with each passing breeze.
These changes did not deter those within the water tribe from going about their day though. B'alam of all ages and trades still bustled around the capital territory, playing, running errands and completing work that still needed to be done. Sure, some complained of the cooling weather, either finding it irritating or confusing, but they did not allow it to get in the way of their day.
Tir though paid the changed little mind. Sure, the falling leaves entertained him, especially when he could find them sitting in large pills which called to be jumped upon, and sure the short days made him sad, but there were more important things on his mind. Such as when his adoptive father would return from wherever he had wandering off to. Something about work or other things the small cub could not remember at the moment.
At the moment Tir found himself nestled by the capital city lake, the grass tickling his underside and nose as he waited. He was not sure how many suns and moons had passed since his adoptive father's leave, but he was hoping the older B'alam would return soon. Though the warrior was often busy with this and that, and they did not really talk or spend too much time together, the small cub enjoyed the company when he could have it. After all, not all newly woven cubs get a parental or mentor figure to care for and teach them. Tir was just a lucky one.
Rolling onto his back, the cub gave a sigh, his eyes wandering over to the horizon for any sign of an approaching figure.
Maybe he could convince his father to play or teach him to fish when he returned. Maybe.
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High-functioning Hellraiser
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Posted: Tue Oct 18, 2016 12:00 am
Gremio hovered over the cauldron, his eyes narrowed against the rising steam. It was almost ready... too long on the fire and the soup would burn, but if he removed it prematurely the broth would be far too thin. It had taken him months to find the perfect consistency, the meat-to-cream ratio, the perfect amount of noodles, and the whisper of herbs that made the meal simply melt in one's mouth. It took hours of preparation- that didn't take into account the careful cultivation of the herbs hanging from pots and ledges in the rough kitchen or the small collection of vegetables growing just outside of the den.
He shook his head. Not yet. Be patient...
The B'alam sighed and shot a glance out the open window just across the kitchen facing the great lake. There sat the sad, solitary figure of Tir- his young master -looking out in hopes that Stormhelm would return. Gremio's maw twisted slightly. Perhaps not today, young master... Not today...
Stormhelm had married himself to his work. When the tribe's Brave had issued open recruitment, Stormhelm had been among those first in line. He was bound and determined to become an officer and distinguish himself in combat among his peers. The tah trained night and day, sparring against any who would accept his challenge, and volunteering for any and all missions outside of the tribe. For a B'alam who had taken on a cub as his charge it seemed almost...heartless. Gremio knew otherwise.
It was just a year ago when the newly woven had made his journey along the river, curious and bright-eyed...and terribly ignorant of the evils lurking within the world. A B'alam with a pair of horns on his head had attacked, taking the newly-woven completely by surprise. Gremio had been shamefully unprepared for violence and had trembled under his attacker's claws. He still bore the scars from that day...had it not been for Stormhelm's diligent patrolling, he might have been among those that they were now calling...dead. Frosthelm had dispatched the crazed creature, saving the newly woven's life in the process. That day, Gremio had sworn two things- firstly, he swore never to allow himself to be so weak again, and secondly- he had sworn his very life and service to Stormhelm and his house till the end of his days.
The warrior had begrudgingly accepted and had taken the newly woven under his paw, teaching him the art of combat. Months later...Stormhelm had returned with yet another newly-woven. A cub...scared and alone, cold and confused. He had declared the little one to be his son- so by extension Gremio's oath fell onto him.
He smiled, his eyes going back to the- OH THE SOUP!
He nearly bowled right into the cooking pit in his rush to check the broth. Creamy white- good, no sticking to the bottom- good, the herbs drifting lightly on top- oh heavens, they'd begun to sink! Quickly, he lifted the pot off the fire and set it down on the cool stone surface. Well...it wasn't perfect, but it was...almost perfect. Forgive me, young master..., he sighed, reaching his telepathy out for a pair of wooden bowls.
He served up two bowls and gently laid them out on the table, fanning a paw over the bowl that would be Tir's to cool it. He so badly wanted it to be perfect... Tir had been waiting for days to see his father...
It couldn't be helped. It served him right for losing himself in thought again. Brushing the hair from his face, Gremio turned to the window, "Young master! It's time for lunch!"
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