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Janatheil Orehian respected winter, in its time and place.

He had no particular burning hate for snow, and even considered it elegant and pleasant to look at. From afar. While in warm clothes. And in moderation. Two days on choppy seas supplemented with progressively more bitter, icy winds cutting across the deck of a groaning ship only to be stuck three times in ice and then trudge through snow deep as a grown man was tall was not — in Jana’s humble opinion — comfortably within the definition of ‘moderation.’ He felt as though he were constantly wearing a closet’s worth of clothes, a baowi’s weight in fur and leather, and still he shivered, confined, and miserable.

He wanted to go home.

“Couldn’t we have at least waited until summer?” he barked grumpily from atop his mount — an appropriately winter-white hastar which still managed to struggle with the snow load. Already, his voice felt hoarse from the degree of shouting he had to do to be heard after the Aisko winds carried away nine tenths of the volume in his voice, whisking it off to places unknown.

“This is summer, boy,” their guide laughed.

Janatheil saw nothing worth laughing about, but didn’t figure, either, that the comment merited any more effort from his already suffering throat, so he sufficed to sit in silence, tugging with thickly-gloved, stiff fingers at the fur rim of his hood and cloak, attempting to somehow pull it in closer around him without success.

Aisko, he concluded, was the gods’ joke on warm-blooded people.

The gates of Targallah rose up from the endless white like the wall of a glacier, so tall that the top was lost from visibility to the roiling snow, swallowed up in the storm. Jana might have been more impressed, were he warmer and less inclined to be anywhere but where he was. Even the blistering heat of Eowyn’s yellow desert would have been preferable at present. His hastar trudged forward. He wondered, in passing, what his sister was doing. How his parents were. How his friends were. When the frustration of being forcibly alienated by no fault of his own became too much, he tampered it down, sweeping it away and focussing on the present.

At least, he consoled himself, he got the opportunity to travel, and perhaps — if he were very lucky — he might find some company to pass the time. Learn something of the wild and blustery landscape of Aisko, bitter as it was. The promise of adventure made the entire expedition bearable, if no more just.

A party awaited them. Not large or of the entertaining sort: two young dovaa at the gates. Members of the Taos line, if Jana remembered correctly, though he hadn’t been trying to pay attention. His eyes caught, lingered, and narrowed on the shorter of the two, barely dressed, as though mocking the cold. Janatheil grunted and shifted his weight on his mount as it pulled up. When his guide and aunt both dismounted, he dallied, reluctant to leave the heat of the beast, even though the surrounding walls and structure near the gate did a passable job of cutting down on the blustering winds.

A stern look from his aunt after she had bowed and made her introductions spurned him into movement, and Jana huffed, sweeping a leg over and dropping to the ground. “Janatheil, and all that,” he said in greeting. “It’s a pleasure and so on and so forth, yada, can we get inside? I feel like your entire continent is trying to crawl its way inside my clothes and freeze me from the inside out.”

Janatheil lifted his chin, attention jerking over to the taller of the two at the mention of a meal. “Hells to the y—” He grunted, cut off when nudged sharply by his aunt, and huffed, breath white in the frosty air. “I mean, uh, how magnificent, good sir, I certainly am famished and would love the opportunity for a meal.”

Aunt Lorei did not look terribly impressed with his witticisms. They progressed in through the gates nonetheless.

The inner city, Jana found, was blissfully warmer, likely spelled to be so, and fascinating in its own right. Populated primarily by dovaa, he found his eyes darting about from one to the next, infatuated with the raw display of variety in detail from horns to scales: wild loops, thick spires, thin winding coils, large, small, pointed, smooth, abundant, sparse. He edged his hood back, dropping it around his shoulders, and stared openly, trying to take everything in at once. Perhaps, he decided at length, the trip wouldn’t be a total waste.

His aunt conversed cordially with the older of the two boys, thanking them for their hospitality and explaining that they would not burden them long, Janatheil’s uncle — Travan Orehian — taking over in so far as his living arrangements were concerned as soon as he returned from business. All of the usual frivolities which Jana did not feel like speaking through himself. Instead, he let his eyes wander down the older dovaa. Thick horns, slightly flat with a flare to them, deep red scales and eyes, and a healthy, strong build. Jana casually slowed his pace, allowing himself to get several steps behind the group in an attempt to get a ‘back’ view.

Cloaks, he decided — and winter clothing in general — were the bane of appreciating the anatomy of one’s company. Huffing to himself, he picked his pace back up and returned to scoping out the rest of the scenery until they arrived at the Taos household.

“I’m keeping up, I’m keeping up,” Jana asserted casually, his attention still scattered to most places other than the youngest dovaa, and when yet another child — this one significantly smaller — came careening down the path towards them, he made a mental note to steer clear. Toddlers, and small things prone to crying in general, were not his specialty.

The house was blessedly warm. He privately thanked Seren once they were in and given the opportunity to discard the heaviest of their outer garments, gratefully shrugging out of his winter cloak and hanging it on the available rack before plucking off his gloves and tucking them away. The eldest guided them through the house, explaining the temporary sleeping arrangements as he lead them upstairs, which apparently involved his aunt in the room usually designated to the youngest girl, the toddler in with her parents, and—

Janatheil blinked. “Together?” he repeated as the dovaa — Tylik — gestured into the room, Asi’wi’s, which he was apparently supposed to be sharing now. His gaze flit to the young aiskala, who looked none-too-pleased with the arrangement, and then back up to the firani. “Or, you know, if your brother isn’t comfortable with that…I could share yours.”

“Janatheil,” his aunt cautioned, an undertone of warning in her voice, and Jana shrugged innocently.

“Just trying to be flexible here…” His eyes trailed to the younger boy, who couldn’t have been much more than thirteen. “Obviously…” The corner of his lips edged up in a half-grin, “…I’m perfectly comfortable with and grateful for whatever arrangement works.”

Food had never tasted better.

Of course, most every meal was, in Jana’s humble opinion, one of the best meals he’d ever tasted provided that it wasn’t awful since, by the time a meal rolled around, he usually managed to be more than ready for it. Ever more so the older he got, it seemed. He appropriately thanked the cook before downing as much as he could ladle into his mouth through the course of the meal, listening more than talking due primarily to the busyness of his mouth, but also his lack of familiarity with the company. By the time the pleasantries were over and the time for sleep drawing near, Jana swore he could feel every muscle in his body protesting the events of the day. Or the past week, for that matter.

He frowned as he climbed the steps leading to the room he was assigned to share, his mind wandering despite his best intentions to the reason he was here. No matter how he tried, every moment that his thoughts got a spare breath, they drew back up the image of the girl he’d fought. Bloodied. Barely breathing. Bent in ways a body should not have been bent. It made his skin itch and his throat tense up, gut suddenly objecting to the contents in it.

Grimacing, he shoved the thought firmly away.

It was behind him.

It was an accident.

And it wouldn’t happen again. He would see to it. He stepped over the threshold into the room and began shrugging out of more of his outer layers of clothes. Sleep, tonight, would be a welcome thing indeed. He hoped his bedmate didn’t snore.

Speaking of which…

Janatheil blinked, drawn from his wandering thoughts by the dovaa boy as he entered, finally. He opened his mouth to comment, but then shut it, eyes trailing down to watch instead as the other undressed.

Alright, he assessed. Young, but plenty fit enough — for a thirteen-year-old. The corner of his mouth edged up, and he grunted, stepping across the room towards ‘his’ bed and flashing the other a toothy look.

“Many thanks. So…” He turned, giving his back to Asi before flicking his fingers over the ties on his last top and shrugging out of it, careful to roll his shoulders in the process. Once free of the confines of it and shirtless as he dropped it to join the rest of his clothes, he let his wings out, the feathers unfurling to stretch and spread behind him. “You a virgin?”

Janatheil laughed. “Well that answers that I guess,” he said. “And…” His gaze flit in the other’s direction, amused, “…nothing, I suppose. Just a point of curiosity.”

Without another word on the subject, he, too, shed his pants before working to arrange the newly-deposited ‘bedding’ and stretching out atop it. The plethora of furs was new, him being used to more refined fabrics and plush, tailored bedspreads. But it was workable, and comfortable against his skin when stretched atop. He draped his wings out and over, the tips on either side dangling over the lip of the mattress and stretching to brush the floor.

“So…” He yawned, pulling his pillow up beneath his chin and shutting his eyes, “…is your brother single?”

Jana gave a neutral snort, rolling onto his back and arching in a lazy stretch before shrugging. “Dunno…pretty cute, I guess. I figure, if I’m gonna be here long, I might as well at least sample the territory. See a few sights, bash a few beasts, bed a few locals…never been with a dovaa before either, so there’s that.”