Welcome to Gaia! ::

Was it odd that he found himself equally at home in a deserted forest as in a crowded ballroom? Thomas had never noticed the contradiction before; yet as paradoxical as it may seem, it remained a firm truth. Each had its unique merits, to be sure, but each felt natural to him. Navigating the intrigue and politics of Sunderland's complex social circles scarcely required a pittance of his concentration; and moving through its ancient, tangled forests was as breathing to him.

Perhaps the latter was encouraged by Sigyn. To be sure, he had found himself more often out of doors since her unceremonious arrival in his life. Of late, a large portion of that was a direct result of that incident. The pair of them, Guardian and Chosen, would be ready when next they faced their enemy. It was not a question, but a vow. A firm resolution so thoroughly ingrained into their united being as to constitute a fact. When next they found the black beast, they would kill it. They would dance in its blood and Sigyn would have a new trophy.

Though his thoughts were fixed upon his dark imaginings, there was only a scant second standing between Sigyn hearing the sounds and Thomas processing them. Their senses, by necessity of the doe's blind eye, were that closely entwined. If she had the sharper nose and keener ears, then he could see where she could not. Such was the nature of their symbiotic bond.

Their purpose one, the doe required no command in order to set off with purpose toward the sound of battle. It was another Guardian, of that she was certain, and it was facing a boar. If a Chosen was nearby, she could not yet hear them.

Unlike some men he could name, Thomas was not one to charge in without first assessing a situation. He preferred to take measure of a situation before acting. A little intelligence was worth so much more than blind, brute force.

The sight that greeted him was one of stupidity.

There was a Guardian buck, of course, defending a grounded woman with all his might. Her skirts were torn, but he saw no blood. She was facing the mad beast with nothing more than a sword in her hand. Her quiver was empty, the arrows scattered across the earth where she had fallen - or been pulled - from her Guardian's back.

Thomas considered his options. They could charge in wildly and distract the boar, but that was both foolish and reckless. While boldness had its place on a battlefield, he was not about to risk submitting either himself or Sigyn to needless injury. One scar was more than enough for her.

That left him with one other option, and that was fine with him. It would not be the first boar he had faced this way.

Nocking his bow and taking swift aim, Thomas took little time in losing the arrow in hopes of an eye shot - and in his not so humble opinion, he had a very good chance of getting it. After all, it would not be the first boar he had killed this way.

She was brave, he would give her that, but so incredibly stupid to be goading a wild boar when she was easily within goring range. One lunge, and she could have a stomach full of tusks. There was a reason that Thomas had chosen boar as his surrogate wolf for practice, and it had little to do with gentle dispositions.

Sigyn maneuvered with the beast, helping line Thomas up for the shot that the woman had presumably meant to give him. Sighting in on the nearest beady, black eye, he narrowed his focus to that one little spot and loosed a second arrow.

Satisfied with the boar's swift disposal, both Guardian and rider watched dispassionately as it perished, then turned their attention to the other pair. Sigyn's gaze swept slowly over the woman before settling on the buck, her pale eye appraising. It was difficult to tell whether she was more disappointed in him for allowing his Chosen to get injured, however slightly, or pleased with his defense of her. Either way, she saw potential in him.

Thomas, meanwhile, scarcely spared the buck a glance before settling his own gaze on the woman. "Lord Thomas Avery," he replied, which should both confirm her observations and tell her exactly who he was. Particularly since the cadence of her voice suggested that she, too, was of the peerage. "To whom do I have the pleasure of speaking?"

The woman appeared to have fair reflexes, which in turn suggested at least passable training. On the other hand, he was less than impressed with her methods.

He watched her from his position on Sigyn's back. His share? Considering he was the one who had killed the beast while she had been scarcely managing to stay alive, he would say that it was his kill, and she should count herself lucky if she got any meat from it at all. However, he was not so destitute as to stoop to squabbling over a boar he had not been out to hunt. Particularly when laying claim to any of the meat would require hauling the carcass more than a day's journey home.

Thomas made no motions toward assisting her - not that he was adverse to helping a lady, but this one hardly seemed to be wanting it. Or perhaps he was simply more interested in seeing what she would do if left to her own devices.

"Tell me, Lady Wilhelmina," he said instead. "Do you often think to take on wild boar with a sword?"

"No. Rather, I rarely witness such blatant disregard for one's well-being," he observed, and if his tone was not blatantly mocking, then there was certainly something faintly sardonic in it. "It is disturbingly reminiscent of my brother. But as you claim it was poor luck that placed you in the situation, perhaps you are not without some hope." Though he might argue that preparedness would make up for poor luck.

Well, if nothing else, she had managed to keep herself alive until he had arrived.

"It is not often that I meet women with any skill in the fighting arts," he said, and this, at least, did not sound derisive. Why should it? Though he truly had not met many women capable of or willing to wield sword or bow, his dearest friend was one such female.

If she hoped to shock him with her unwomanly skills, she was in for a disappointment. Though it was not generally a lady's job, Mrs. McClellan's skill with a butcher knife had long since inured him to women dealing with meat. Instead, his keen eyes noted with appreciation that her technique was not at all lacking.

He hummed at her proposition. "I had hoped to be farther along by now, but it seems that your little ordeal has rather disrupted my plans." Besides, it was growing late. If they continued on, he very much doubted that they would make it to his intended destination before dark. "You can keep the boar," he added. "Consider it a gift."

"Tell me. Why have you learned the use of sword and bow?" Was he interested? Perhaps mildly so. At the very least, he did not feel the urge to insult her every skill at the present time. Not that he was not reserving judgement until he saw her in action, of course. Perhaps his visit with Kathryn had awakened something within him, though, if he were feeling even moderately friendly toward this virtual stranger.

Well. That sounded like an unconventional upbringing, to say the least. Allowing his mind to focus on the name once more - it had been a while since he had attended court, and more pressing matters had pressed trivial details like familial ties and histories to the back of his mind - he recalled the news he had heard about the Hawtrey family. It had happened around the same time as...well. As that event. He had not paid it much mind at the time, but now that he was not so completely consumed by his thirst for revenge, it seemed very important, indeed.

"Practice," he corrected. "Though it is an admittedly feeble comparison to the real thing." But a moment ago, he may not have bothered explaining himself. His revelation concerning her specific identity, however, changed his mind. He watched her intently from beneath hooded eyes. "You may be familiar with our prey. Sigyn and I have a certain score to settle with the Wolves."