Title: Always in the Dark Will You Find Me
Description: [Horus only, pleasee!]
Airyanya - March 19, 2007 01:09 AM (GMT)
You will only find me in the dark...
Oh, how true that one statement was. Airyanya was no different than the rest of her kindred, the Drows, when it came to the spiteful rays of the bright and harmful sun. If her destination included an open area where the sun could shine freely and warm the ground, everyone and everything could wait until nightfall came and the sun was safely hidden below the horizon before she began her conquest onto the lands.
The area she treaded on now was no different. Even through her boots she could feel the warmth the sun had left on the soft ground floor of the lightly wooded forest. Her darkly complexed eyelids narrowed over her light brown eyes as she glanced about, almost in disgust, at all the lively things. This specific Drow, whom goes by Airyanya, wasn't fond of many living things, especially plants and the like. They all provided on the Sun to give them their supply of life, and according to Airyanya, that shouldn't be the way of life. She herself went through her whole life despising and practically avoiding the Sun, and she was perfectly fine. Well...almost.
Scowling lowly under her breath, Airyanya lifted a hand to brush a couple strands of her white hair out of her face, and she tucked them absently behind one of her pointed ears. Her sharp eyes then fluttered about again, her keen ears catching all the rustles of every bush and leaf. Sometimes her hearing annoyed her, especially in this sort of surroudings, but it was all but helpful when it came to combat or any other sort of conflict.
All of it made her laugh, really.
"Huh?" Airyanya murmured, coming to a complete stop, her left hand immediately shooting for the dagger that rested securely on her hip as she listened intently. What had caught her attention was an excess amount of rustling, and she was sure that some sort of animal couldn't make that much noise; well, a small animal that highly populated this area, like a squirrel or something. Perhaps it was a human or other humanoid like creature? Or another creature of the sort? She could only wait to see.
Horus - March 19, 2007 01:44 AM (GMT)
Wanderlust had its ways with Horus –
... though it went without saying that such daydreaming did prove dangerous.
He had encountered his fair share of Drow – personally, he did not like the lot... the dark-skinned Elves often kept to themselves and were selfish in tendency, yet they were not unlike the human population. Though their beliefs were different than Man, the Drow were simply surviving as any animal or creature would. Yet from his past experiences with cut-throats and rogues, especially those of the Drow race, Horus knew he could never be too careful. After all, the Drow did work in such cunning, unsuspecting ways...
The mercenary, lost in some train of thought, had nearly bumped straight into the woman, only recoiling a step and preventing such collision at the mere hint of her voice. Immediately, out of reflex, bronzed fingers secured about the hilt of a scimitar against his left hip, seizing and removing it from its sheathe in a single, mastered movement.
Horus remained silent, his left hand extended out slightly as if to ward her away some distance and the right slightly above his hip, wielding a blade. The scimitar was desert-forged in its design, the metal carved in a hard, rudimentary shape classical to the sand folk. The leather that tightly bound the weapon’s hilt was foreign, most likely of some desert creature rather than stretched and dried bovine or equine skin. The faint moonlight seemed to dance dangerously along the blade’s slick edge, hinting of the weapon’s blood-thirst by its crimson-free surface. Yet, such same emotion did not embrace its wielder, as the Dhampir moved in slow, cautious steps, straightening slightly from his former, crouched position in the shadow. His movements were touched with a feline grace – a sense of liquidity that was only found in the smoothness of a true fighter’s refinement.
“What do you want?” The Dhampir’s voice was rugged, husky with age – it was evident that the owner of such tone was not young, and perhaps strained in speaking from lack of use. Those twin, pupil-less eyes appeared to be fixated upon her, unblinking. Though both his expression and appearance lacked malice, it was in his tone that held some suspicion and held an air of accusation. Then, after some silence, he added, “What in the name of Threnody is a Drow doing here?”
Airyanya - March 19, 2007 03:35 AM (GMT)
The creature stayed behind her for a time, and her hand stayed to rest on the hilt of her dagger, still sheathed protectively. Her thing fingers had wrapped themselves loosely around the hilt, but something about the way she had her hand poised gave off a threatening suspect, as if telling motively that she could -- and would -- snatch the dagger out and stab it right into one of your vulnerabilities. Was that her secret strategy? No.
He was still behind her, and Airyanya let that stay for now. She heard the slow steps he took cautiously, but they stayed in the same area, so she guessed he was shifting or something of the sort; obviously not moving to another area, as he would've been in view of her sharp eyes.
Her ears rung with husky voice that the male spoke, its edges quited rugged within the speech. When the words comprehended in her mind, Airyanya finally turned around, her movements silent and agile, even as she was just turning around to face the creature. She didn't seem to care that she was in possible danger, that the other could've harmed her in any way, shape, or form when she began moving. It was almost as if she lacked fear for him. Which she probably did, but that was the demeanor she was good at pulling off. Besides the fact that she was raised and train to never show her fear, of course.
She growled lowly at the mention of the diety, and her lightly coloured eyes flashing in her anger. "Do not speak of one such as herself here, around me," Airyanya growled. "And why do I need to answer a lowly question from a lowlife such as yourself? Like it's any of your business anyway. Shouldn't you be scurrying inside your home and hide from all the demons of the night that crowd into your bed and feed you nightmares while you slept seemingly peacefully?" The whole time she spoke, her voice was low and quiet, and something in the way she spoke gave an air of mystery. What it was has yet to be deciphered, but it was eerie and wonderful to her own ears, and helped her with her decievance.
Horus - March 20, 2007 09:52 PM (GMT)
“I speak as so I please,” the mercenary interjected suddenly after her growl, cutting between her sentence. The man’s tone was strong and challenging, his figure continuing to straighten as his left hand fell idle to his side, no longer warding her away. It was to be seen that his body was naturally shifting from a defensive posture to one of a more offensive even without thought. The Dhampir moved with such feline grace that it was noticeably too easy for him, the transition between stances shifting much like liquid. It was evident that this man was a fighter – and a skilled one at that.
He was eerily calm, silent as he gazed upon her with hollow, lifeless eyes. The Dhampir’s expression was neutral, the lines of his face hinting at little to no emotion as he paused, critical as he examined and studied the Drow before him. Most women of the Dark Elf kin did not speak with such lightness to their tone – they often projected their voices, being the superior sex of a matriarchal society, yet Horus struggled to capture every word that left her pretty, dark mouth. His eyes, though featureless and slightly glowing in the darkness as it captured faint moonlight, were not judging as he contemplated, remaining quiet as she went about her statements and accusations... seemingly, his only response to her words was a thin brow arching, an expression of utter disgust and disappointment.
How foolish of me, he thought without surprise, to have even thought a Drow might be different from the mass.
“Little elf,” he sighed with an air of irritation, making him seem much older than he physically portrayed, “you have wandered far from home. I suggest you swallow your sharp tongue before you slit your own throat – and that you turn around and return home. Swallow your pride as well, we surface dwellers need not your arrogance and stubborn qualities. We have enough of that here.” Again, his tone was unwavering – confident, proud, and ancient. He could not have appeared a day older than thirty years in age, yet the tired lines that constructed what was visible of his features spoke otherwise. His apparel was off-white with age and dirt, his hands were calloused, rough, and scarred from a thousand stories he could tell to children about a fireplace.
Horus sheathed the scimitar, returning it to his left hip. With a simple shake of his head, he tore his attention away from the Drow, as if dismissing her from his thoughts. The Dhampir moved slowly, his steps nearly soundless save for the soft crunch of grass beneath his worn leather boots as he tore distance between them. “Damn Drow,” he hissed in a harsh whisper, shaking his head as he began to walk away from the elf. “They’re all the bloody same—” A thundering cackle rippled through the air, causing the Dhampir to both pause in movement and voice. His eyes rose to the heavens, where there were no traces of dark, gray storm clouds nor did he find a hint of rain in the air.
Odd, he thought, his lifeless gaze lingering on the nearly moonless skies. A zephyr suddenly picked up and teased at the desert rag that constructed his tunic and pants, causing it to shiver in tiny ripples against the solid, bronze flesh of his frame. The man flinched, cranium awkwardly turning side to side as he was seemingly looking for something, his right hand immediately seizing the scimitar and drawing it back out. “Do you smell that, in the wind?” He whispered breathlessly towards the Drow, turning his eyes towards her in a sudden movement. “I smell... animal.”
“And it is not friendly.”
Airyanya - March 20, 2007 11:42 PM (GMT)
The look he answered her with when she was finished didn't bother her one bit, oddly enough. She answered back with a blank expression, waiting for him to say something to her or just leave so she could be on her own again. He chose to speak after a moment, beginning with an irritated sigh and continuing on with words. She listened, of course, and her eyes narrowed in slightly spitefulness towards him. However, she held her tongue, not wanting to waste breath on him in such a pathetic bickerment; it would just be completely useless for the both of them.
She watched him as he sheathed his weapon and dismissed her with a simple shake of his head. Now, for that, she had to raise an eyebrow in slight amusement. He got rid of her existance that easily? She looked away from him, turning back around and looking before her and up the path that she had been about to walk before he had ran into her just moments before. Her eyebrow lowered to level back down with its partner, and her shoulders lifted and lowered as she heaved a soft sigh. This was such a long night, and it was only going to be even longer.
As soon as her foot kissed the ground softly in her first step, Airyanya froze, her left hand going for her dagger once again. Her ears rung with the thunderous cackle that suddenly emitted itself over the trees, and she narrowed her eyes, turning back around slowly. Her eyes flickered around, looking about for the cause of the sound. Never did they mind to flicker to the heavens above; they stayed at her general eye level.
Not finding an answer to her unasked question, Airyanya's gaze fluttered over to the man whom had spoken to her once again. Surely he had heard the noise, or he was some sort of deaf, no doubt. She didn't need his question to know that some creature was oncoming, and as the scent engulfed itself in her nostrils, she grimaced slightly before finally pulling her dagger from her side.
The sound emitted itself once again, but this time it was closer and louder. Airyanya shifted slightly, as if bracing herself for what was to come. Then she noted something.
"Not just one," she said to the other, her voice stronger than before. "A small amount, at the most three," she added after a small hesitation of thought. Her white hair was blown into her face, but she didn't care as she waited for their opponent to show itself.
After a couple moments, the trees nearest the two began to shake, telling them that the animals were finally there. Sure enough, not only one wild boar appeared, but three. They seemed angered by something unknown, and, now finding the Drow and Dhampir here, wanted to take it out on them. One of the animals made the same sound that had already been cried out twice before while the other two snarled and raked their hooves against the ground, getting ready to charge.
Airyanya sent a glance over to the Dhampir and cocked an eyebrow only slightly, as if seeing what his reaction would be and if he had something to say about how he wanted this to be settled. Sure, this was awkward for Airyanya, but then again, usually she fought alone. So, fighting with someone else was different for her.
Horus - March 21, 2007 11:28 PM (GMT)
Wild boars, he scoffed silently to himself with an air of disgust. Of all the creatures on the face of Arda... Thick hides and an abundance in layers of fat proved to be one of the most difficult natural armors, especially against a creature that easily weighed twice his own body mass. An irritated sigh parted his lips as the boars came into view, three large, massive shapes shifting in the darkness. He knew well that the Drow would see better in such darkness than himself, but he could recognize their distance by the heavy breathing and shifting of their large bodies. His grasp tightened on the scimitar’s hilt – as if in response, Chokeslave caught a glint of moonlight, dancing the cold, crystalline colors along its slender blade as if it were hungry for the warmth of flesh. He feinted to the right just as the first boar charged at him, howling a porcine squeal into the silence of the nightly air. Diving to the left in time to avoid collision, he drove Chokeslave best he could towards the meat of the animal’s side, yet barely managed much more than a cutting, surface wound. Irritated, the boar wheeled around, its savage eyes returning again to focus onto Horus.
He turned his attention towards the Drow for a split moment, spotting that one other boar had begun to occupy her concentration. Realizing that the third beast was nowhere in sight, the Dhampir’s eyes widened slightly, scouring the immediate area for any trace of where it had disappeared to, only to find that his encounter was already turning around to charge back towards him, ivory tusks lowered to kill. Pushing himself up to his feet, Horus dropped his scimitar and grasped both jutting tusks with his bare palms, wrestling with the large swine. The animal screeched in response, twisting its head to and fro to shake off the Dhampir – and easily doing so, throwing him aside to make him stumble as he caught himself from falling over.
Rolling aside to dodge another charge, he seized up Chokeslave into his sword hand, stealing another glance from the direction of the Drow, to see if she had yet fallen to the boar. His own opponent struck him hard in the hip, knocking him off his feet and tumbling painfully to the earth. As the animal reared back to finish off with a killing blow to the chest and head, Horus drew up Chokeslave and drove it into the animal’s throat with all the strength he could muster. Using the momentum of the creature’s charge, Horus averted the corpse of his boar off of him before the dead weight could crush and pin him beneath. Breathless, he withdrew the blade from the swine’s bleeding throat, releasing a sigh as he returned his attention to the Drow. As if in instant response, he was advancing towards her, his blade steadied in his grasp.
“Watch yourself!”
Throwing himself towards her direction, the Dhampir tackled her out of the line of charge from the third boar that had suddenly disappeared; the creature reared its head in defiance as its unsuccessful charge met nothing but air. Though blood caked his chest from the pig, an intensity of crimson was staining the off-white of the apparel clothing his right leg from where the first boar had charged and hit him hard. It was evident that the Dhampir was in pain, yet he gave only a grunt as he pushed himself up, wheeling around to face the third boar that was reading for another devastating blow. Fatigue graced his sudden, heavy breathing as his eyes narrowed, waiting for the animal to rush onto him.
There was no fear in his eyes, only hot, blistering emotion.
Airyanya - March 22, 2007 12:15 AM (GMT)
He said nothing when she had looked over at him, and so she just made it a priority to fight for herself and put down the boar that had turned to her. Another was already charging to the Dhampir, and she only stole a glance to see how he was fairing before she turned her attention back to her own personal opponent. She bent her legs at the knees, bracing herself as she watched the boar get ready to charge at her. She twisted the position of the dagger in her hand so that its point was facing downward, and when the boar got near her, she quickly moved out of its way, her left arm outstretched when she had dove, the blade making an eerie sound as it scratched against one of the boar's tusks.
She glanced behind her and straightened back up from her crouched position, and she grimaced slightly when she saw it didn't do much damage. Her eyes flickered about as her mind buzzed, trying to think of something that could dispose of this boar easily and effectively. Alas, as her eyes fell back on her enemy, she found naught, and so she was left with the hard way.
The boar was charging for her again, but this time she worried on just dodging it. She was still trying to figure out how she could take it out. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the Dhampir landing on the ground from being knocked off of his feet by the boar. Her eyes flashed and she turned back to see her enemy turning to face her once more. This time she was ready, though.
When it started to charge, Airyanya quickly slipped her dagger's blade inbetween two of her fingers. She narrowed her eyes in concentration, aiming mentally, and when she had her target locked, she threw her dagger right at the boar. She braced herself once again, ready to move if it didn't hit home. However, the boar stopped in its tracks, sliding a little when it done so, and Airyanya was glad to see her dagger having hit the boar's skull. Moving as quickly as she could, the female Drow ran over to the boar itself, wrenched her dagger back into her possession, and then stabbed the wild boar in its throat, much like the Dhampir had done. Gritting her teeth, Airyanya growled lowly before she pushed her dagger deeply into the animal's throat, turning it before she wrenched it out once again, moving out of the way as the dieing corpse started to collapse.
She had barely straightened herself when she heard the man's voice behind her. She was about to turn and see what he wanted when she felt herself being pushed to the ground, her dagger slipping from her hand. When she hit the ground, Airyanya groaned, more-so to herself. Her ears rung with the sound of a boar charging, and she suddenly remembered the third pig that had seemingly disappeared. As soon as she felt the other's weight off of her, Airyanya pushed herself up as well, her pale eyes fluttering about for her dagger. The boar had knocked her bloody weapon even further away and she scowled at that; it would be stupid of her to just run after her dagger suddenly, she knew.
Her eyes glanced over to the Dhampir and the third and final wild boar. She narrowed her eyes against the white strands of her hair that now hung in her face loosely. She growled lowly, watching, waiting for an open time for her to gain her weapon back and help end this animal's life.
Horus - March 23, 2007 01:55 AM (GMT)
He realized she was unarmed just as the boar charged towards them, three or four hundred pounds of killing fury becoming a blur of shadow in the darkness. Quickly averting his attention from her and unto the animal, he dodged aside, leading the beast to trail its charge away from the Drow, leaving her a window of opportunity to retrieve her weapon. The wound in his thigh exploded with a hot, searing pain throughout his body – despite the pain, Horus brought up the scimitar to block a blow of the animal’s tusks that could have been a fatal blow to the chest. The impact of the strike, however, sent him off his feet, hitting the earth hard on his back. The wild boar climbed onto him, attempting to dig its tusks into his vulnerable flesh. Unable to turn the blade in time, Horus sent up the dull edge of the blade up against its throat, attempting to ward it away at arm’s length as it crushed its weight over the mercenary.
“Help,” he choked a plea, his voice struggled and the word barely managing past his lips as he, with all his might, attempted to control the swinging cranium of the beast. Horus let his eyes trail over unto her, a sadness dipping in the corner of their features as he studied her in a desperate calling. With a grunt, his concentration returned to the boar, struggling to keep its massive mouth from ripping the flesh from his face. And then it was over. Horus could not remember whether he had slain the animal himself, somehow, miraculously, or if the Drow had saved him – the pain in his leg had been too great, blocking him of all senses as he slowly retreated, pushing himself up quickly and limping over and away from the center of the clearing.
Collapsing backwards, his hands grasped the nearest tree he could, slowly lowering himself to the earth with a thick, dull sound. He did his best to keep his leg straight as he seated with his back against the hard bark. He laughed triumphantly – a terrible, hoarse sound, throwing his head back as his eyes closed slowly and painfully. Rolling his cranium back against the support of the tree, an eerie silence followed his laughter, disturbed only by the rustle of the grass that tickled the toes of his boots. The stillness of his actions brought forth the stink of blood – returning his attention to the Drow, the calmness of his appearance returned, the lines and colors of his face softening until the emotion had dissipated back to neutrality.
Slowly and painfully, he shifted his hand to where a wound was most likely present from his awkwardness and stiff agility. “Olath O'goth,” he cursed beneath his breath, his eyes closing as the incantation of a spell left his lips. A crimson glow slowly began to engulf his bronze fingers, highlighting the blood that was caking and drying on his clothing. A breathless gasp parted the Dhampir’s hidden lips, and then within moments, the pain had subsided. In exhaustion, he leaned back into the support of the tree, letting his head rest against the texture of the old wood. The smell of wild pig and flesh soon came to overwhelm the area from the idleness of their large bodies, yet the Dhampir made no reaction to the horrid stink.
“You move very unlike most Drow women I have encountered,” Horus spoke breathlessly, slightly panting in his words as he attempted to draw in air. There was a lack of hostility and a touch of curiosity as he turned his lifeless gaze back unto the Drow. “Your movements are not stiff. You are agile, like water... which is strange, since most Drow women tend to be priestesses. Yet, it is obvious you have a taste for combat. What is your name, Dark Elf?”
Airyanya - March 23, 2007 04:23 AM (GMT)
She watched him carefully as he made to steal the boar's attention away from her. Her eyes danced as they stayed on the two, awaiting until she knew it was safe for her to retrieve her dagger. As soon as she saw the opening, Airyanya's pale eyes darted make to her dagger, and she quickly ran over, bending down and grabbing her bloody weapon. As soon as it was in her grasp, Airyanya looked back over to see how the Dhampir was doing, and she saw him on the ground, the boar getting ready to dig its large tusks into his body.
Narrowing her eyes, Airyanya quickly made her way over to where they were, thankful for the distance the Dhampir had made between herself and the two combatants. As soon as she was near them, she softened her steps so the boar would keep its attention on its prey below him.
However, right when she was about to slip her arm around and cut its neck, the boar must have caught the stench of blood on her blade and turned its head to her. Its tucks grazed her bare arm, and she winced as pain shot up from the large wound. Gritting her teeth together angrily, Airyanya stepped back, getting the boar a small distance away from the Dhampir as it followed after her. She knelt down, holding her bleeding arm to her middle, and when the boar charged at her, she pushed herself closer to the ground before pushing her dagger up into the animal's throat when it was right in front of her.
Die she told it mentally, pulling her dagger out and stabbing it again as her thoughts continued. You tore my arm bloody. You deserve no life.
Sighing, Airyanya finally pulled her dagger out for good and watched as the boar collapsed. The horrible stench of blood filled her nostrils from her own wound, and when she stood, she could feel the liquid on her clothes. However, she didn't do anything about it as she looked about for where the Dhampir had gone off to. When she found him under a tree, she walked over to him, still holding her arm close to her as she did so. Upon reaching him, she let her dagger from fall from her onto the ground by her feet as she remained standing, her eyes watching the other as he healed himself.
After a moment of silence, Airyanya found herself becoming irked by the horrible stench of the boar corpses, let alone all the blood. She grimaced only slightly, but her face fell emotionless when she heard the man's voice, breathless in her ears. His tone had changed from before the fight, but Airyanya cared not for it; at least he was speaking. He could breathe.
"I despise being compared to other Drow women, even those of my own House," Airyanya said with a small sigh. "I am Airyanya, of House Orbelo. Who might you be, then, now that I gave you mine own name?" she asked, her voice having a hint of a growl in it. No, she had no anger towards him; she was just caught up in the adreline of battle and dealing with her wound. Speaking of which, she finally looked back down to take a good look at it, holding it away from her now blood-stained clothes with a small grimace on her face once again.
Horus - March 24, 2007 08:57 PM (GMT)
“Horus,” he replied softly, his eyes turning to the wound of her arm. “Horus of Angband.” He stood, his movements easy as he broke the distance between them. “Hold still,” he commanded, moving closer as if he were going to grab her arm – yet, no contact was made, his hand wavering closely to her wound as it began to radiate the crimson warmth of Dark magic. It was visible that the mercenary struggled to maintain the spells, beads of perspiration forming on his bronzed forehead. Yet, enduring the growing fatigue, he maintained the spell until the wound was nothing more than a mild, purple bruise, barely noticeable on her dark complexion. Horus took a step back, wiping the sweat from his brow as he released a sigh.
“I am very far away from home,” he spoke with exhaustion, picking up his scimitar and replacing it back onto his hip. “Then again,” his husky, deep voice continued, “so are you, Lady Orbelo.” He motioned her to follow him, a light curiosity in his eyes. “I suggest we move elsewhere. The smell of pig meat will undoubtedly attract unwanted and hungry company.” He slowly turned away from her, expecting she would follow since it was rare for wild boar to attack without being provoked... who knew what else this night had in store for them?
His pace was unhurried, yet he did his best to keep each footfall as silence as he could. It was easily seen that this man was not accustomed to such forest terrain of pine needles and crunching grass. Though there was an amount of effort in his movements, Horus was not a quiet forest-walker. Shifting, desert sands were often silence and rarely noticed... Horus had never truly worried about the art of moving in a stealthy manner. “I apologize if I had offended you earlier,” he spoke suddenly, glancing at her from over his shoulder. “Most Drow I have encountered are of the typical stereotype, and many of them have stabbed me in the back,” his eyes offered the hint of a sad smile, “...literally.” His left hand suddenly fell away from Chokeslave on his hip – the Dhampir had now openly suggested some measure of trust to this woman... after all, she had saved his life.
And he had hers.
Slowly, a clearing came into sight, accompanied by the sound of rushing water. A relieved sigh left his lips as he inhaled the moist air of the clearing. “A stream,” he identified through the darkness. He slowly approached the water’s edge, kneeling slowly and gracefully before it. There was a sense of respect and possibly worship in his movements. “Tears of heaven, rolling down the face of Lady Earth. Bless ye, O’ Lords,” Horus chanted in the lizard-folk tongue, nothing more than a series of clicks, hisses, and grunts to those uneducated in the Qua’ek language. Running his hands through the water, the blood that caked his fingers mixed with the cold stream, tainting the water with a crimson hue. After the filth had been rinsed from his hands, his bronze fingers rose to tug away the crème rags that clothed and masked his cranium.
Horus was not a handsome man – the flesh protecting his skull was hairless and held a plethora of scars. Lines of fatigue were exposed where they had been previously concealed, tracing beneath his featureless eyes. Yet, despite these flaws, he held the strong, bold skeletal work of a proud man, cheekbones and jaw line high and strong beneath the rough texture of his sun-scorched complexion. There was a hint of nobility by the sharpness of his features – yet, from the modest line of his sad, ltitle mouth, it was apparent that he, Horus, was a commoner... or that he had lived such a life as a simple man. If it were not for his strange eyes, Horus would appear no different from any other desert-faring man. Though there was a lack of smoothness in the lines of his face, the lack of wrinkles suggested he was still young, perhaps in his late twenties to early thirties.
Yet, it was the way he carried himself and the huskiness of his words that made him appear so ancient and unattached to this living, breathing world. He raised the water to his face in cupped palms, washing the dried blood from about the flesh of his eyes. The cleansing process was quick; Horus brought the cloth to conceal his face once more, having only exposed his face to the cool, night air for no more than a few seconds. He rose, deciding it would be inappropriate to tend to the blood that covered his leg in the presence of a lady. Glancing over to her, the expression of callous detachment returned to his eyes.
“May I enquire to where you were headed, Lady Orbelo?”
Airyanya - March 26, 2007 02:24 AM (GMT)
When he spoke his name, Airyanya nodded a little, making it a note to remember it. He then stood, and her eyes narrowed slightly, wondering what he was doing, or where he was going to run off to. What he did was step closer to her, his hand outstretched and hovering over her wounded arm. Her eyes danced from his hand to his hidden face and back again, going back and forth as she tried to figure out what he was trying to do. However, when she saw the wound getting smaller, her eyes stayed on it and her eyes widened. He was curing her of the tedious wound! But why? He had done enough for her already, and she had payed him back in the same manner. This male was confusing, if not anything else.
When he finished, Airyanya studied the bruise before shaking her head, allowing her arm to fall to her side. Her eyes landed on the Dhampir as he spoke, exhaustion obvious on him as it made his words heavy in her ears. When he picked up his weapong, Airyanya knelt and retrieved her own from the ground, keeping it in her hand rather than putting it away. She listened to what he said and simply followed after him without a word from her lips.
Her ears rung sharply with the sound of his attempt to keep his footing quiet. The female Drow herself had no problem keeping quiet, as she was of a small form and was able to pick her steps with much more ease. She had been raised in the art of stealth, and the art never left her being, even after she had been banished from her home. Banished after requesting leave for a bit. Ahh, the punishment that pure curiousity landed you in. At the memory, Airyanya's hand shot to her side subconsciously, where her elder brother had attacked her. Her eyes closed for a second before snapping back open, and she put her hand back to her side.
He spoke suddenly, and she had to admit that it had shocked her slightly, but she sighed lightly, listening to him. She watched him intently, listening to him quietly as he spoke, apologizing and then explaining why he was doing so. Then he did something that surprised her; his hand that had been resting on his scimitar fell away, telling her without words that he was putting trust in her hands. She raised an eyebrow at him, but her grip loosened on her dagger. After a moment, she slipped it back to her side, her eyes staying on him.
"That is why I despise being compared to others of my kin," Airyanya voiced quietly, not caring for whether he heard her or not. Her eyes narrowed, almost sadly, and she looked away into the darkened shadows of the woods to their right as they continued walking.
She heard the river before they got to the clearing, and a bit before he announced its presence. When they reached the stream, however, Airyanya pulled her dagger back out, frowning slightly at the blood that had already started to stain the blade. She knelt down by the water's edge, and she lowered the blade into the water, along with her hands. She narrowed her eyes and began scrubbing the blade with the bottom part of her hand, near her wrist. She only watched the male from the corner of her eye, but she didn't pay much attention to him.
She soon took the blade out to examine it, and that was when she caught sight of his face. He had taken off the cloth that had obscured the flesh from anyone's view, and she only wondered why. He looked so young, yet the lines and scars that marked his face made him seem older than he actually was. Well, at least, in her point of view. However, he had a strong face, with high cheekbones and a strong jaw. He awed her, actually, that he would hide these features from everyone.
Her eyes fluttered back to her blade when he lifted the cloth back to his face, concealing it once again. She put the blade back under the water, quickly scrubbing at it one last time to make sure it was as clean as she was going to get it at that time, and she lifted it back out.
"You may, but I don't hold much of an answer," Airyanya answered, looking up at him as she straightened back up. "It's been a couple days since I once arrived on this surface world, and curiousity is my guide. Where I am headed is beyond my knowleadge," she added with a sigh. "And yourself?"
Horus - March 26, 2007 03:02 AM (GMT)
“That is why I despise being compared to others of my kin,” he heard her whisper, causing his cranium to flinch slightly whilst they were walking – yet, deciding not to further elaborate on the subject due to her softness, he gave a mild sigh, leaving her to the assumption that he did not hear it. The touch of sadness in her tone, however, made him turn her words over in his mind, pulling and twisting them apart in his silence, searching for any underlying meaning that he may not have caught on instant. A tinge of guilt marked him, burrowing and drilling hard against that fluid-filled, pericardium sac within his bosom... yet, before the dark colors could lift to his face, he killed the sensation, returning to his former, callous appearance.
Even before he posed his question, his eyes slowly lingered their way towards the Drow, studying her as she made her final attempt to rid the blade of its scarlet stain. He stood in silence, awaiting her to finish. But as he idled, Horus could not help but let his gaze wander, studying the smooth texture of her flawless face and the hue of her dark complexion in which many deemed sinister and malignant. She was lovely, he had to admit – and strangely enough, the Dhampir found himself identifying her with the divine, desert women in which he adored and loved – the detail of her skin was rich and dark, appearing almost as if it held that bronzed pallor in such low light. The sheathes of her gossamer hair appeared almost like a sheet of silk from his distance, touched with the crème, lunar warmth, capturing a plethora of color within each delicate strand. And then, slowly, his eyes traced down the lines of her voluptuous curves...
When she stood, he quickly let his gaze fall somewhere else, making so it appeared he was studying the shadows down the length of the stream. True, it was considered disrespectful to look upon a woman so openly, but, as Airyanya herself had said, she disliked being compared to other Drow women. “I see,” he spoke softly, turning his eyes back onto her svelte frame. “Wanderlust has its ways with all of us, so it seems.” He had not realized until that moment how much he missed his beloved, now deceased wife, Sioned... and so strange, how he would suddenly reminisce about his spouse in the presence of a Drow woman, no matter how out of the norm she was.
He cleared his throat, dismissing the thought.
“Myself? Well, I am on my way to Estolad, a small village that should be a day’s walk from here. I have word that a merchant is in need of hired help; being a mercenary, every little job opportunity is worth the journey. I’ve been traveling for some time now, coming from Anfauglir... the desert, if you did not know.” He shrugged, unsure to the extent of the Drow woman’s knowledge to the surface world’s geography. Though he had spent some time in the Underdark in his past, Horus openly admitted that he could never recognize the thousand crevasses and turns of the darker, deeper parts of Arda. “Perhaps, I could escort you to Estolad? There is very little there, hence it being a small village, yet it is a check-point for those traversing through the grasslands, so you should not be discriminated too terribly.”
The Dhampir offered another shrug, unsure to how the surface dwellers treated their darker skinned outlanders. Seeing that their reputation preceded them, he guessed they were not treated too kindly. “Come,” he stepped away from the stream, motioning her to follow with a simple gesture of his hand. “I will be your guide.” A hint of a smile could be seen by the pinching of the corners of his eyes – yet, as he turned away, such a trace disappeared. The Dhampir’s path was parallel with the stream; the sound of rushing water weeded out the awkward crunching of grass beneath his worn leather boots, which in turn caused him to straighten, not having to sneak or attempt at being stealthy. Arms idle at his side, he turned his attention towards Airyanya, studying her in a silence for a moment, as if expecting her to talk. Yet, he was the one to continue the conversation, speaking before her, regardless of whether or not she was to speak.
“And you?” His voice was sharp, suddenly cutting through the quiet of the night. “What may be your calling? You move like a rogue, your movements graced with a fluid, almost feline touch... yet, the way you handle your strength says otherwise. You seem to know your weapon very well.”
His eyes fell away from her, observing the tips of his muddied boots.
Airyanya - March 26, 2007 09:56 PM (GMT)
He spoke softly in reply to her countered question, and so she listened, her pointed ears catching his words as they passed his covered lips. She soon slid her dagger back to her side, where a sash-like material wrapped itself around her waist. Her eyes remained on the other, watching and listening intently. She was only so intent for she had grown wary around other creatures, making sure to note any and all things that occured around her. She had learn to trust no one, but this male...he seemed a little different. After all, he had saved her life and hadn't done one thing to threaten her yet.
She was thankful for him clearing his throat, for it helped dismiss her own thoughts. He then explained to where he was headed and for what reason. She could care less for the reason why, let alone to where he was headed. However, she supposed she could take some interest in it, thinking it would be wise of her to remember what he said. Her head dipped slightly before lifting again in a brief nod, letting his words stick before his words of question rung in her ears.
She was sbout to answer, but she saw the shrug before he spoke yet again, saying that he would be her guide. Airyanya watched him wearily, wondering what he was up to. Surely no one had this much good will. Well, she guessed there was always exceptions to everything. Look at her.
Glancing back at the stream, Airyanya shook her head before following after the male, her eyes falling on him as he led the way, following the stream. She was now walking beside him, but her eyes were now on the stream again, their gazing depths narrowed as she watched the water. After a moment, she blinked several times and turned her head to look back at the Dhampir. The silence settled between the two before the man spoke, speaking words that required an answer from her,
"You're a decent observer," Airyanya admitted with a soft nod, "I am a rogue, but I had also intended to leave my home as a Weapons Master. However, the thought amused my House. Probably not in the good sense of humour." She allowed a soft shrug to lift and lower her shoulders, her lips pursing slightly. "I've only traversed on this surface world for a couple nights. Maybe three or four, if I were to guess; I don't keep up with things like that."