Open RP: Face of the Gods; Brutalized Innocence

[zianorak]

[glow=red,2,300]ARIC POST[/glow]

Aric walked easily around the village. He had been there for an hour or two, scouting out the town and getting to know it very well. While he appeared to be searching for the best place to set up his wares, he was also scouting vantage points for his later work. His crafty, orange eyes took note of the tallest buildings and what view they offered.

He carried a pack across his back, in it he carried the tools of his trade and some of the wares he was going to sell. He found a nice little corner and sat down at it. It was late, but he figured that just sitting there for a moment would not be too bad. He had managed to stay dry during the earlier storm, and his small thick cloak kept him warm. Under that cloak was found a very dirty and horribly dyed brown tunic and britches. He wore no boots or gloves, preferring to keep his hands(paws) and feet free.

Within his pack was a bundle of arrows, all well made and very sturdy. At the bottom of the pack was found four rounded peices of wood that were strapped to the bottom and kept in place. He told anyone that asked that they were there to make sure that the pack stood up when he sat it down. He pulled a few of the arrows out of the bundle and a small cloth out, he placed the cloth on his lap and laid the arrows across it.

He wondered where he might find his contact down here in this village, and so he would ask around. The man was said to be a scholar of some sort, a writer. That was all that Aric knew, and all that he needed to know. He would find his contact, and he would set things straight, but he was hoping to make a little profit while he waited.

As Aric sat there in the fading light, he considered his life of late. He was one of the Smoulderfist, a tribe that had been taken into the ways of the Shrenk humans. Aric was a true believer in the old ways. He remembered the rituals and how important listening to the wind was. He considered himself a very true and devout follower, and he knew that he had been blessed with his aeromancy abilities so that he could be closer to his religion.

As he sat and waited, he prayed that the wind would guide him. He wanted the wind to push him in the right direction, to steer his hand and aim. The breezed picked up and he shifted so that he could better feel it. The arrows he had laid on his lap rolled off of the cloth and onto the ground clattering on the cobble stone road. The cloth was taken by the breeze, which turned into a sudden gust and carried the cloth away.

Aric quickly grabbed up the arrows stuffed them into his pack, placed the pack on his back, and ran after the cloth. It was moving in great arching pattern around the street as the wind whisked it away. It was caught by a sudden cross wind and shot down a side street. After a moment or two he turned the corner and saw that the cloth had landed neatly on the ground. That, however, was not what caught his gaze. Just beyond the cloth, was an Anjan. She, for it was obviously a female Anjan, was on the ground, swaying dangerously.

Aric approached with caution, hoping that whatever had made this Anjan woman do this was not still around, or contagious. He walked up to her, fingering the little tuft of beard at his chin, wondering what had happened. Kneeling down he offered her a steady hand.

"Are you alright my friend?" He asked, he wished he could better remember the rituals of meeting. The ones that would tell him the best way to welcome someone he did not know, but he would settle with that question.

[Valalerin]

“Alright? Honestly, if I were alright would I be lying on the ground?” she snapped, jerking herself into an upright sitting position to avoid further embarrassment, hands still clasped to the back of her head. Turning to face the man who had just offered her actual help she couldn’t help but notice he was a Smoulderfist… She turned her head away from him almost immediately after seeing this fact and made it quite clear she was unhappy.
“I’m fine, actually, I only tripped” she told him, her tone of voice quite formal and cold. Only after uttering did she realise that it is fairly difficult to trip and fall backwards… Taking her hands away from the back of her head she stood up without accepting aid and stood fairly solidly. For a short while.

Unfortunately, the combination of a sharp blow to the head and a quick rise to the feet rendered her balance rather inert. She leant backwards gradually, and upon realising this attempted to rectify but only ended up throwing herself backwards more dramatically and more painfully. Thankfully she landed on her rear rather than her head and promptly gathered her robe and legs together.
She made sure not to make eye contact with the other Anja, instead looking off at the bathhouse in the distance. She thought for a brief moment making some excuse that she tripped over a loose cobblestone, but tripping twice in such a quick succession is… Unlikely to say the least.
Instead she chose to remain silent. Though it is likely the least preferable action considering she was now thoroughly bruised, it seemed like a good choice at the time. The less she does the less embarrassed she’ll be about it later…

[zianorak]

[glow=red,2,300]ARIC POST[/glow]

Aric was very confused, and he made no point in hiding it from the woman. He had only tried to help her, but she seemed reluctant to accept his offer. When the woman turned away after looking at him, he figured that it was because she was trying to show her independence and not because of his heritage. He was pretty sure, by the shine of her blue eyes, that she was Riverfoot.

"I suppose that I have overstepped my bounds in offering you a simple hand," Aric said, throwing a little sarcasm into his words as she stood up. He was not one to be brushed aside so easily. When she fell, he planted a satisfied smirk onto his lips, and he laughed lightly as she tried to cover herself.

"What is the matter? The gentle wind to much for you to stand against?" he asked, a subtle attack on her, and her relationship with the wind. He then added, as he turned to walk away, "I suppose that if you are sure that you need no help, and you are truly fine, that I might return to my sales. He took a few steps and picked up the cloth. He then cast an icy glare at the air around him, questioning the motives of the wind.

[Valalerin]

“Fine” she barked, a furious tone to her. She sat with a glare directly straight at the Anja, still holding her robe to herself. She was quite clearly struggling to prevent herself from baring her teeth, but thankfully kept at least some of her dignity intact. She didn’t attempt to stand again, there was no need – She couldn’t. Instead she sat, choosing her words carefully as to just how she would accept help from someone she shouldn’t interact with.
“You…” she started with a somewhat hostile tone, but faded out before finishing her sentence, instead she clamped her mouth shut trying to figure out just what to say. It was quite puzzling. Is it really a virtue to help her? Or is it a chore? She couldn’t just ask him to help her, that is far too meagre for a woman of her standing.

“I… Err…” she needed to keep his attention until she figured out some way of asking for help, what better way than sounding helpless and pathetic? Dignity, it seems, means something different to someone who only knows being a pet.
“You can…” she couldn’t get off the train of thought that it would be a privilege to help her, she wasn’t royalty. She was a well paid maid if anything, serving the Baron and that was her only source of importance.
She kept uttering the starts the sentences, various ‘I’s, ‘you’s and other words escaped her, but the actual request never materialised. How frustrating it must be to be incapable of forming a simple request for help… Eventually that frustration got to her.
“Just help me!” she snapped, bringing a fist down with a nasty thud onto the ground. She immediately regretted slamming her fist, the ground was far harder than she would have preferred. Flexing her hand to regain feeling she cast a more sympathetic look toward the Anja, evidently she didn’t want to snap but found no other way to communicate. Pitiful, but pure.

[zianorak]

[glow=red,2,300]ARIC POST[/glow]

Aric turned back slightly. He was not the most perceptive of individuals when it came to reading emotions and facial expressions. However, he could hear the struggle in her voice, the turmoil that obviously kept her feeling rattled. His orange eyes looked her up and down, trying to size her up, to get a feel for her. He then turned fully toward her, and approached her again.

He never let the sour expression leave his face. That look was to let her know that he did not appreciate her tone, and also inferred that she was taking up his time. He bent down and offered one hand, placed his other on her back to help hoist her up. "I suppose it would be my duty to escort you to some establishment. Where would you like to go?" Aric asked, the tone of his voice first showing sarcasm, then moving to sympathy. It was a strange mixture, but he pulled it off.

He helped her to her feet, allowing her to take as much time as she needed to get comfortable. All the while that he was helping her his mind was whirling with ideas and theories. The wind had definitely led him to this place and to this woman. Why it had led him was an entirely different question, and a question that kept popping up in his mind. At the moment there was no wind, not even a breeze, and that made Aric feel strangely alone. He was with this woman, but he still felt as if his only true friend had deserted him.

It occured to him that he had not properly introduced himself to this woman. He thought that maybe it would be safer to keep his name from her, but in the end, manners won out. He cast her a look out of the corner of his large eyes and said evenly, "I am Aric, formerly of the city of Hope of the land of The Beauty, formerly of the tribe of the Smoulderfist of the land of the Children of Aliadore, and follower of the whispers of the wind."

He knew that such a breath filled and lengthy introduction was not necessary, but he wanted to this woman to know that he was not a stranger to the new world and that he still remembered the old ways. He wondered if this woman had ever really lived within the tribes of the Anja, or if she had been born into the world they now lived within. He found too, however, that if he was required to stay to close to this woman that it would be hard for him to finish his duty within the city. He scolded himself for his stupidity, but conceded to the fact that he was doing the right thing.

[Altrius]

As he sat there for ages on end, he began to grow worried. The women seemed not to be waking up, she had tossed and turned a bit, moaned and opened and shut her eyes but there were no signs to show that she was consious. Dammit, when is she going to wake up? He shook his head and stood up, and walked over to her, trying to see if there was any sign of life in her.

He took his glove off and placed a hand on her forehead. She was burning up, really badly. He looked into her flickering eyes and tried desperatly to see if she was awake. Suddenly her cheeks flushed with colour, and a small smile crossed her face. Sighing in Relief he smiled back. "Hey. I hope you can hear me. My names Altrius. Ive sent for a healer, they should be here soon. Dont worry, your going to be ok." He said to her, patting her arm as he pulled up the chair by his bed.

Mere moments later there was a knock on the door "Come in!" He called and to his utter relief, the innkeeper walked in with a healer. Oh thank goodness.

"Shes got a fever,but otherwise appears unhurt." The healer nodded and walked over, looking down at the women.

((Sorry for taking so long to post))

[zianorak]

Byrin was truly glad that she had not been left alone. She appreciated that he had stayed near to her. When she had heard his words, she forced herself to nod. It was only a faint movement, but one that took quite an effort. She was so tired, she thought of going back to sleep. However, the healer had arrived, and so she forced herself to remain awake.

She let the healer do his work as she lay there helplessly. He had requested some water and a few rags. The healer wet one of the rags and placed it on her forhead, trying to cool her down a little. He took another rag and wiped her eyes, getting rid of the gritty substance that had caked them shut. The healer requested some hot soup, figuring that to be an essential step for her to regain her strength. He gave her a spoonful of some foul smelling liquid, which burned her throat, but she knew it was for the best.

The healer left instructions for her to eat the soup as soon as it arrived, for her to keep her eyes cleaned of the grit, and for her to take a spoonful of that foul liquid at every meal. The healer then made his way out of the door, not looking back into the room. Byrin felt much better as the cooling effects of the rag took effect. Her throat felt much better, she figured that it was part of the liquid's healing factors, but she did not feel strong enough to say anything.

Within her head she kept repeating his name, Altrius. She wanted to thank him, but she knew that if she did not keept it fresh in her mind, his name would be forgotten. Soon she would be able to give her thanks in full. She hoped that the soup would give her enough strength to talk. She would just have to wait.

[Valalerin]

“Don’t bother with introductions, our transactions are limited…” the young woman told her helper in a most formal tone, fixing eye contact with him briefly as she said it only to then immediately let her gaze wander to search for the inn. She knew that it wouldn’t be kind to simply throw someone away after taking their help… Unfortunately, she was unlikely to be able to keep him in her company.
She bit her lip, still deliberately avoiding his gaze; she was once again robbed of her words. On the one hand she can’t ask him to stick with her, but on the other she shouldn’t simply shoo him after he helped her.
Injury; The perfect excuse.

She gave a weak grunt of pain and leaned forward violently, only to then realise she was throwing herself into a complete stranger and took some extreme steps to walk around him. She turned and composed herself,
“Sorry… I think I’ve hurt my leg…” she explained, waving a hand over her left as some feeble indication as to which leg. Rather uncomfortable standing with a supposedly injured leg she thought about sitting down… But she’d only just gotten back up, there’s little more pathetic than falling down thrice in such quick succession.
As if that wasn’t bad enough, who is simple enough to help someone in such a state after such rudeness? It would take someone either blinded by gender or someone so invariably helpful it’s a wonder they have the free time to even find people to help.

“If you’re not so keen on helping me still, I understand…” she clasped her hands together and held them down, guilt was a horrible thing to resort to. At least it was less degrading than charm, if not more insidious. Curious as to how she would be helped with a bad leg she chose not to extend a hand but rather wait for him to help her, after all… It was forbidden by her master to become even minutely involved with anyone else.

[zianorak]

[glow=red,2,300]ARIC POST[/glow]

Aric missed a step at her return to his introduction, but he hid it well. She was a strange one, almost as strange as he was. He met her gaze, but when she turned away he did not. Secretly he wished that she would stop avoiding his gaze. It had been a long time since he had met the eyes of another Anja. Especially one so stunning, for even in her present state, it was clear she was poised and easy on the eyes. He was sorely missing his kind, and even if they were of different tribes, he still wished to make sure she was okay.

He listened to the wind, hoping that the wind deity was not playing some horrible joke on him for is doubts earlier. He nearly fell over as the Anja woman leaned into him. As she stumbled away from him he realized what she was doing. He had come from the streets of Hope. He had learned how to produce a limp immediately, she was good, but it was not perfect. She did not throw her weight properly, as someone with a true limp would do. However, he figured that if she felt the need to feign pain, then he would gladly feign ignorance. He frowned as she tried to push him away, telling him that it was okay to leave her.

"Would you rather that I carry you? So as to keep you off of your leg?" Aric offered, his only choice. He glanced around and noticed a fairly nice sized horse standing off near the stable. He motioned to it, saying, "Or if you rather, I could lead you to the Inn on that horse."

He started walking toward the horse, having doubts as to how far he could truly carry her. The horse was grey, with a flaxen tail and mane. He did not know this, but it was Calaphax, the horse that had caused the situation he was trying to rectify now. Aric noticed the pack that was still sitting on the horse's side, and from an open pocket he noticed several apples. They seemed beaten, and bruised, but they would make a nice treat for the horse.

"What do you say?" he asked one more time, turning his orange gaze onto the female.

[Altrius]

As he watched the healer do his work, Altrius sighed a little bit. The liquid seemed to be working as she appeared to be in less pain, tossing and turning nowhere near as much. She had even managed a small nod when he had spoke to her - All good signs that she was on the road to recovery. He relaxed a little and said to her "Do not worry. I will be here till you get better. Rest now and get some sleep. It will do you the world of good."

As he leant back in the chair, he began to think about the Anja women he had encountered. Where the hell is she? I gave her strict orders that if she wanted to help, she was to take the horse to the stables, pay it in my name then come back here as soon as possible. She should have been here ages ago! I'm going to have to have a serious word with her Baron. That if she wants to help people, she doesn't just swan off when she likes. she could have been the prime component in this women getting better. You know what? I bet she hasn't even taken the horse back to the stables to get it put in. I bet the poor things probably standing there in the rain freezing to death. Im definatly going to have a serious word with her master to disapline her...

He shook his head in frustration. Sometimes the Anja really did annoy him.

[Valalerin]

“C-carry me?” she stammered, raising a hand to her mouth to hide the fact she was evidently blushing at the thought. She dropped all thought for where she was going or why she was going there and focused on why someone would offer to carry her…
“You’re not suggesting anything, are you, sir?” she asked, still holding a hand to her mouth, trying her best not to blush too much. She had few options it seemed, be carried or ride a beast that had just kicked her to the ground… The very thought of which reminded her she hit her head fairly hard. Taking her hand away from her mouth, with which she was biting her lip, she rubbed the back of her head to ease the aching pain she had reminded herself of.

“And… I can’t be riding that creature. I’ve never… Err” she was at another loss for words… The human language was tricky compared to the relative simplicity of the Anjan language… Ridden? Rode? Rided? They all seemed like likely words. What she didn’t know was that two of them meant the same thing…
“I’ve never been on one before… And I’m wearing a dress” she gave a light curtsey, though it was actually a robe she was wearing. Robe… Dress… They were both essentially the same thing, the only difference was the words the humans associated with them. Honestly… Why have two words that mean the same thing?
She brushed off her robe, though the dirt from being on the ground did not falter, and held her hands together in front of her like every good lady was taught to stand. Accustomed to the culture she was, but not quite to the language…

[zianorak]

One of the serving maids entered the room, carrying a bowl of warm soup. The young lady sat on her knees near the bed and offered to feed Byrin. Byrin, being to weak to feed herself, gladly accepted with a nod of her head. She had never recieved such treatment. Her mother had taken care of her when she was sick, but she had never offered to feed her. The soup tasted wonderful to the sick woman, and she ate with an unlady-like fevor.

The maid placed the bowl to Byrin's lips and tilted it back, allowing her to drink the last bit of it. The maid then bowed deeply to both the knight and the sick woman before leaving. Byrin leaned back into the pillows that the doctor had propped her up with. She glanced over at the knight, taking him in again. She cleared her throat, working up the nerve to speak, and hoping her voice would not break.

"Thank you Altrius," She said, her hoarse voice barely above a whisper. She smiled brightly, hoping that, that gesture would relay some of her relief.

[glow=red,6,600]***************[/glow]

Aric nearly fell over in amusement as the Anja woman questioned his motive. He had not thought of her as a mate of any sort. He had thought to speak with her, hoping to connect with the woman and speak of the old days, days of greater joy. He pushed away his laughter, and shook his head.

"No, no my lady. I had no intention of anything other than getting you off the street," he said trying to keep his amusement out of his voice. Aric walked up to the horse and grabbed an apple out of it's pack. He waved the apple in front of the beasts nose, and then tossed the apple into the stable. The horse trotted happily after the apple. Aric turned back to the woman and with a few steps was beside her once again.

"Those beasts are not meant to be ridden by us. They are meant for those who are too lazy to walk a distance. My thoughts are, if you want to do something, do it with in a reasonable distance, unless you are willing to walk for it," he placed his arm around her neck, and then lowered his other arm to about the level of her knees. He would not pick her up unless she was ready, and so he paused waiting for her to get into position.

"Now, you never really said where you wanted to go," Aric said quietly as he waited, hoping to spark her into movement or conversation.

[Valalerin]

“Well… I… You…” she started, at a loss for words at the apparent advancements by the strange gentleman.
“Fine… That is, very well…” she huffed, clearly unwilling to be carried but nonetheless more unwilling to dispute it. She took a short step forward and undid a clasp at her waist, then one about her neck before crouching to undo one about her knees. Her robe was not all she was wearing, upon removing it her sheathed sword could be seen hanging from a black leather belt, the belt was strung around her simple brown dress.
It was made of coarse linen, held up by a series of large wooden buttons down her back, the lowest two of which appeared to be missing. It cut off slightly above the elbows and so was slightly more revealing than traditional dresses, it was also slightly shorter than her robe, revealing her simple leather shoes. Her shoes also appeared rather worn.
The sword looked rather like an oversized kitchen knife; it was a makhaira, the scabbard being made of dull grey leather. She unbuckled the belt and wrapped the sword in her robe before huddling it all together in her grasp and stepping back once more with the gentleman’s arm around her neck.

“You may continue… And the inn is where I would like to go” she concluded, her voice filled with indifferent formality. But, even whilst appearing formal and apathetic, body failed her as she blushed upon being picked up. Almost out of instinct she held her dress to keep it over her legs whilst clinging to her robe and sword.
And, unfortunately for her, with both hands preoccupied she had none remaining to keep her face hidden. Nevertheless, her averted gaze had a slight hint of vindictiveness to it, as if she was irritated by the very actions. And yet she did nothing to change the fact, she did nothing to free herself or refuse.
She simply allowed herself to be carried, despite inner defiance. Then again, considering the almost serf-like quality of life most women in Steel Raven Village suffered, it was almost unsurprising she did little to prevent what happened to her.