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 Posted: Tue Apr 10, 2012 8:58 pm
Teepee The nights were growing shorter, she reluctantly observed upon waking. It was sunset now, but she had had to adjust her sleep habit to fit with the falling sun as the light began to encroach upon the normally dark horizon. not that Ithil resented the coming of the warm seasons, for they brought joys even winter could not host. Even under the slow-to-wake stars, the sweet scents of flowers wafted on the wind, eliciting a smile from the dainty mare as she walked.
The locals she'd asked after told her this area was part of something they called the Big Oak Grove, which certainly lived up to its name. The large collection of old trees soothed her with their whispering ways as the wind passed through their branches, and far beyond them Ithil could spy the mountains which, she was told, made a crescent about the known lands. Dry sand only waited beyond, where the mysterious feathered and scaled Soquili lived - similar to "harpies" and "kalona", to use their strange terminology, but yet unlike. In any case, to the mare they were one and the same: creatures best left alone unless stumbled upon.
Shaking herself of residual sleep, the mare made her way to the river that trickled down from the mountains and through this grove, hankering for a deep draught of water. What little she had travelled today had been enough to dehydrate her quickly - summer had both positive and negative aspects to deal with, and Ithil knew her health was more than a tad fragile to begin with.
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Posted: Mon Apr 30, 2012 6:50 pm
 Zahid had barely slept himself. He thrived on short cat naps and never felt tired or ailed. He had been walking the lands all night, to pass through the forest with little notice from the locals. He didn't want any trouble, but could hold his own when trouble found its way to him. Passing through at night increased his odds of finding dangerous night dwellers. Lady luck had been at his side. Trouble did not come his way.
The stallion was parched though. His face paled, and his lips smacked. He had a craving for a sip of water himself. It so happened, that right in the heart of Big Oak Grove, ran a tasty cool drink. The river was filtered out by all the roots and trees in the area. Some believed it to have rejuvenating qualities unlike any other. The runoff from the mountains gave the water a cold bite. He visited here anytime his travels brought him close enough to take the detour.
He approached at the center of the woods, dappled with great ancient oaks. It seemed too early for some of the mystics and priests that would frequent the area. In a few hours, they would begin to come here to collect pots of water, coming down from their highlands in the mounts grasp. Now, this fella was a cautious type, and could easily be spooked into raising his guard. Life's hard lessons had made him that way. In this area though, he had never found a threat and would keep his sword at his side even when sensing the presence of others. A wisp of a breeze allowed him to pick up the scent of another. He paused for a moment, trying to further evaluate the smell. It had an almost flower like scent, but was gone before he could pinpoint what it was.
Pulling round a large oak that pressed its tendriled roots down into the river side, he stood tall over his reflection. Had he the mind for it, he would have admired himself. He zoned out; the long trek washing over him like the oceans tide, now that he had stopped walking. In the back of his mind, he thought he heard the approach of another. He didn't budge just yet though, since he didn't feel threatened.
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Posted: Mon Apr 30, 2012 9:06 pm
Hot weather or not, the mysticism the oaks seemed to pervade soothed her as she followed the sound of running water. Maybe she would stay another day or so and see what the trees could tell her . . . When the wind picked up briefly and pushed past her face, Ithil thought she smelled something strange - there was no name to it, but the scent had a different quality to it than the smells of the forest and its regular dwellers. A tad wary, but undaunted, she proceeded forward until she breached the clearing and found the river.
And for a radical moment she thought the moon had come out to greet her, the way the white coat had seemed against the greenery. But no, she scolded herself for the silly thought when she realized it was another Soquili instead; how much her head was addled by thirst! But as she tossed her hair back and leaned in to take a long draught from the mountain water (doing her best to not look desperately parched while doing so), the mare couldn't help but glance at the stranger across the stream. He was the source of the strange smell, she deduced, and how: the jewelry, cloth, and most importantly weapon at his side made her wonder what sort of lands he came from to require something man-made.
But they were two strangers partaking of the same river; she didn't need to pester him with questions when surely she would find interesting characters along the road anyway. Yet Ithil couldn't help but continue to steal looks, certain that she was with an experienced warrior. Maybe there would not be another chance . . . "Travelled far?" she asked, licking her lips of excess water as she raised her head.
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Posted: Tue May 01, 2012 8:54 pm
Zahid was in a not-to-far off place, lost for a spell in his mind. There was no deep thought pattern that sparked there. It was more of a relaxed place. In the back of his mind, he heard many noises as the mare approached. The one that broke his small trance, was the tinkling sound of someone drinking water. An ear swiveled round in the direction of the sound, it seemed he was not alone from what he heard. All the sounds he had heard while zoning out, filling the bigger picture of his broken solitude and the faint smell of flowers from moments ago. His tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth in a most unpleasant way as his crystal eyes happened upon the mare drinking from the river. He took a deep breath, pushing his thirst a safe distance back. He was accustomed to going without water for long periods, thus it did not cause his health to suffer. He would be polite first, then sate his thirst.
He gave a polite nod to the stranger, acknowledging her gaze. He didn't want to disturb her as she bent gingerly over the water. Most Soquili eyed his Schmidt, and he was well aware of the attention it brought. No harm would come to those that didn't ask for it, which was part of the reason he remained passive while innocent-folk took note of his sword. It would seem that she was not afraid or phased by his presence. Perhaps a delightful bit of conversation could be shared then? It lifted his spirits with such a promise, making him long for home.
A smile grew across his face slowly as she addressed him. "Ma'am, it would depend on the metric in which one used to measure his distance traveled." If he thought about the span of land, then it might be far. Or the steps taken from his birth home. The land never kept him from returning to visit his mother though. "I would think it wise to say I've traveled long, and sometimes yes, far." his head bobbed a few times to agree with his own statement, pleased with this answer. This was a good start for some much needed conversation. "Pray tell Lady by the river, have you traveled far yourself?" he asked with no judgement in his voice. The fact that she was a mare did not mean she couldn't have traversed this land on her own. She was also clean, and well presented to be mistaken for a local. Not always so, but more often than not.
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Posted: Wed May 02, 2012 12:46 am
She found it curious that he withheld from drinking, otherwise why come to the water at all? But his manner was nothing less than polite regardless - perhaps his culture disallowed putting one's wants before another's and saw it as an affront to not answer immediately regardless of their craves. Ithil inclined her head in a small nod, careful not to let her thick mane obscure her face. One must always show their eyes, she was taught; to hide the face was still an action worthy of suspicion and distrust, but the eyes especially were important - one who could not look at you always held furtive intentions.
"Longer than I would like, Sir Knight," the mare replied, standing straighter than she would have if alone. While she was not sure of the stranger's true position or rank, something as general as a knight couldn't have been far off she assumed. "The oaks called to me in whispers I could not deny, and I admit that with the summer coming, the shade and water were quite tempting. I assume that is why you came as well?" She motioned delicately to the stream between them. "Please drink. If you have come so far, my curiosity should not bar you further the gift of clear water. Parched throats make for poor conversation." And the water had a refreshing quality that invigorated Ithil, made her feel as if she had slept for more hours than she actually did.
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Posted: Thu May 24, 2012 1:56 pm
Longer than she would have liked.. this answer pulled out a nostalgic, weathered feeling from his bones. He knew that deep sense of one who had traversed so long, that it pulled on ones soul to take rest and settle down. The urge to keep moving, for him, was stronger than that lull.
It did not surprise him when she asked him to drink. Judging from her appearance, she seemed like a mare who knew her manners. He felt rather comfortable in her presence. Not many could evoke ease in him. He did just as she suggested. Thirst ragged in his throat with a final fighting burst, sensing it would die out soon.
While he began to talk, he tucked his hair into a golden clasp beneath his neck, and placed it beneath the thin gold chain around his neck. A ponytail holder, pinned between a necklace posing as a would be rubber band.. "I have untold business that requires me to keep on the move. As such, my journey here was only half intended. This pleasant visit though, welcomes a delightful breath of fresh air. And it so happens, that a drink is just what I need." He leaned forward, and let the water into his mouth. His hair did not fall into the stream as he did, having adjusted it just so it wouldn't do so. His drink was long and hard, before he raised his head. It might have created an awkward silence during the long sate of his thirst. A few drops of water fell from his lips and got lost in the ripple of the slow moving stream.
He did not apologize for the long pause with no conversation. She had offered for him to drink, and he had accepted. It would be impolite to feel sorry. Instead, he thought of something he could offer in return, even though the water did not belong to this stranger, he felt kindness in the offer. "Would you care for a light snack to go with our refreshing drink?" He reached under the blanket across his back, where a satchel was hidden. It was also what his sword was fastened to through a loop in the blanket.
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Posted: Fri May 25, 2012 12:45 am
Stilted as Ithil normally was around strangers, even she could feel the ease of conversation relaxing her. He spoke in a way that reminded her of home, even without the accent and with drastically different accessories. This coupled with the surrounding serenity of oaks instilled a calmness in her that let her drink without fear a second time - the water she had consumed not five minutes before was a long-forgotten memory as far as her desiccated body was concerned.
And again as they drank in silence Ithil couldn't help but cast glances at the stallion as he tucked his hair away, drawn in with great curiosity befitting a filly; indeed against his rough figure she felt as frail as an old autumn leaf. What unfinished business could this knight have that he would put it off to share a meal with her? Curiosity was strong as her hunger, but neither could outweigh her pride.
"Amin uuma merna ta," Ithil responded as she lifted her head from the river, accidentally slipping into her native tongue. For her second draught she had kept hair out of her face as usual, but even so the length of it allowed for portions to soak in the chilled water this time. Careless. Lips turned downward, she turned her head to the side and stepped back until all of her black mane was out. "That is, I am on a sojourn of sorts as well. It would be best for us to continue on our paths while the land cools."
Yet the more she considered what might or might not be in that pack, the more rooted to the spot the mare felt. The idea of walking after that abysmal nap was not appealing, and though she could slake her thirst now Ithil wasn't sure if pushing her body even more would wise; what else might lie beyond the whispering oaks? Thinking of the expanse beyond this grove made her tremble with weariness and, curse as she might, Ithil was forced to recognize she would have to spend at least another day of recovery in the shade. The prospect in and of itself wasn't terrible - forests were her haunt of choice - but her own weakness soured it.
"Although . . ." Ithil faced the stallion once more, her frown smoothing out into a more amicable expression. "I confess having a strong interest in talkative company. These lands are foreign to me, their foods moreso." More than once she had come across a plant she had guessed was edible only to be proven quite wrong. Grass and buckwheat could only be stomached for so long - Ithil's pallet was more refined and used to a wider selection. She craved variation. "One day's delay won't matter much to me, I suppose . . . Where shall we eat, Sir Knight?"
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Posted: Sat Jun 02, 2012 2:30 pm
Zahid fished out a plump bushel of dwarven carrots. They were a hybrid breed that didn't grow as long as standard farm carrots, nor plucked too soon like baby carrots, all factors for making for a sweeter taste. The bushel had long stems of succulent green leaves on them, and were bound together with twine. A little unsightly due to the dirt still clinging to their roots. The orange of the carrots were near the color of the rays in the setting sun. It would be dark soon. Upon the ground, he placed the crunchy morsels, wanting to continue the conversation a bit before preparing them.
Zahid perked at the slip of her native tongue, the sound echoing through his mind. Where exactly was she from? It was a dialect he was unfamiliar with. He watched as she grew annoyed when her mane dipped in the water. He did not laugh, but sympathized. He drew no attention to the happening, said nothing. He did take note of her use of the word 'us'. "Perhaps it is best for us to continue while the lands cool. If you have the time, these are best served chilled." Without a second glance at his guest, certain she approved, he busied himself with the vegetable bundle. There was determination and rhythm as he took a piece of the twine and then tied it to the root of the tree; the other end to the bunch. It appeared as if he had done this often. He then nuzzled the snack into the river. There it hung by thin rope, bobbing in the light current. He then smiled up at the mare robed in golden scales. Her coat almost blushing in the dying light of day. Fruit or legumes, he would hold onto till he could chill them in any body of water. Warm puddles being denied the pleasure of his tasty snacks of course. Rivers were best, having the coolest temperature. He did not want to keep her, but it seemed as if the two motives that kept them traveling, were at bay for a few moments longer. Thus he did not mind using a few minutes of time to chill the carrots. Though, it could be a misinterpretation on his part, for her own schedule.
It seemed appropriate to know her name. The conversation had moved far enough where it seemed of import. Rather than ask her name, he would give his. "My name is Zahid." His name rolled off his tongue with near accent of a desert tongue. Names were important in most situations. Zahid would make a point to remember her name, as he did with most that he met.
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Posted: Sat Jun 09, 2012 1:58 pm
What other strange meals lay within? she wondered as the stallion pulled out what she thought could have been carrots, but . . . they were so small! Could they grow to only that size, or were they scraps he had simply scrounged during his journey? In either case, Ithil could feel herself salivating and waded through the shallow parts of the river to join him on the other side, sleeves dragging with the current. In a practical sense they were a hazard, but the mare was sentimental; she wanted to keep any sign of her homeland with her into the unknown. If nothing else, the river washed them some of the accumulated dirt they had.
"Well met then, Zahid. You have my thanks," she greeted upon leaving the river, flicking her tail of excess water and dipping her head courteously. "I am Ithil. As we wait, might I ask after your affects?" She inclined her head towards the jewelry, cloths, and the weapon draped about him. "I have not met one so decorated before." Perhaps it would explain his accent as well, for she had yet to hear it in the lands.
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Posted: Wed Jul 04, 2012 4:58 pm
Zahid did take note of her cloth sleeves around her ankles. He had his own adornments of rare silk, and assorted anklets. Getting them wet is something he had to get accustomed to. When he first got them wet, he was very displeased with how long it took them to dry. The water clinging to his ankle underneath, long after the rest of his coat was dry. He used to take them off if he knew he was going to be in water. Eventually, this became more annoying than the sensation of wet material or jewelry. Now it was nothing to him. It would seem she was used to getting her sleeves wet just the same. Though the water was not that deep, they still trailed through the current at her hooves.
Zahid positioned himself towards her, in case she needed his assistance crossing or stepping out of the water. It happened that she made it out of the water just fine. Not like anything would have likely happened, but he knew not to trust accidental happenings from never happening!
"Ithil." he repeated back to assure he pronounced it the same as she. "Merry met indeed Ithil." Again, a name was of great importance, and he would use her name frequently. It helped build a personal relationship with someone to use their first name.
"Very good question. It would depend however, on which piece you would inquire towards. Each has a different story to it's origin." he looked at a few of his decorations, then back at hers. He guessed what one might make for an interesting story to tell Ithil. "This fine Peruvian silk is from my mother. She uses similar silks to veil her face; used for fashion by mares of her homeland. I wear it as a blessing from her, to remind me of her, and protect me when I am far from her. It graces my coat gently, and also wraps around the blade in which I wield." a pause was inserted, so he would not appear as if he was rambling. He kept eye contact and continued. "Carrying a weapon is a great responsibility, and any time I draw it from my side, this silk reminds me to use it gingerly. Just as my mother loves and cares for my father, about as different from her, as this silk is to the sword. Yet both can serve the other harmoniously." He could have gone on about the sword from there, or his father, but he had said enough.
"I believe I have not met someone with your style of fashioning's. Tell me of yours Ithil?" The carrots could wait. He appreciated her interest, and returned it back to her. After hearing a response, he would tend to them.
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Posted: Mon Jul 16, 2012 9:20 pm
With an attentive c**k of her ears, she listened to the story behind the silk and sword, a small smile playing on her lips. It was girlish of her to think it, but Zahid was beginning to sound more and more like someone from an exotic legend, or from one of the stories her parents would tell her before bed as a young filly. She wouldn't be surprised if, by the end of it, he would tell her a story about how he had slain some dragon, or some similarly fierce and dangerous creature. Certainly he had a few visible scars to show for something, though it wouldn't be prudent to ask after them, even if her curiosity continued to burn with the kindling Zahid fed it.
Swiping away idle imaginings of how these mares from his lands must look, Ithil inclined her head. "Are your kith and kin all as poetic?" she asked, pleased to know that he was intelligent as he was heroic-like. Not that she would have though any less of a dullard, not in her state and situation, but the silence she kept on a solo journey (coupled with her upbringing) made her crave for a conversation that could involve at least some wit and wisdom between participants. "At the very least, it is a good lesson your sires have given. Temperance is a hard virtue to forge, but it is a strong shield against misfortune - perhaps more so than any actual armor."
Now, what stories to impart in return? Ithil cast a glance to the river in thought, sifting until, comfortable the heat wouldn't blur her thoughts together, she turned her gaze back to the stallion. "My people revere nature, and it often intertwines with our every aspect of life. What I wear now is an artisan's interpretation of the period between summer and autumn: the changing colors of the leaves are offset by the warm waters still clinging to the sun's love, a still image of bittersweet memories before winter comes. The jewels, ah . . ." She allowed herself a stronger smile, reminiscing. "Her own personal signature, if you will. Things with shine and sheen always did catch her eye."
She paused for a moment, then went on, tossing her head so that her long mane was not in the way of viewing her right back leg. "This was part of a full set," Ithil explained in a more businesslike tone, the leaf-designed bracer glinting against her thigh. "But it was cumbersome to wear as a whole, and its mate I lost many moons ago. It offers very little in the way of protection, but any measure taken is helpful, wouldn't you agree?"
Her last three words were said in such a way to let him know her sharing was finished. Originally Ithil would have gone on to ask more about Zahid's culture, but given how frighteningly easy it was for her to slip into memory, she put a rain check on the inquisition; the last thing she wanted to do was fall apart thanks to sleep troubles and horrid heat. That, and her other affects held more personal than the rest. With a small flick of her tail, Ithil turned to partake more of the river, finding that even her small explanations made her throat dry as sand.
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