• PM To Join • This isn't my camp... (Vega, Arlo)

[Qit'ria]

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Saun 23rd, 717th Arc
"Speech"

A small, bronzed hand wiped sweat from the brow of the hidden huntress. Qit'ria lay upon her belly beneath a leafy bush, one that she knew not the name of. One of her javelins was clutched in her other hand, the smooth wood in her hand giving the woman comfort. The Sev'ryn woman had discovered an animal path, far from her own campsite, while out hunting. She knew it must've led to water, for the path was used by a large amount of animals, as she saw from the many differing tracks, many of which she did not recognize.

And now there she lay, under some bush, staring down at a bunch of animals surrounding a small pond. She didn't expect to see so many drinking together, but perhaps it was due to the intense heat right now. She saw a few that she recognized, or at least were similar to ones she knew. There was some odd looking deer, but deer nonetheless. Wild pigs, horses, and many smaller mammals and birds were all there drinking. Qit wondered how many other predators like herself were hidden away, watching all these prey, protected by their numbers.

Then the ground began to rumble. Qit crouched down even lower, if that was even possible. The ground shook, thundering loudly as something big moved nearby. Too close. Qit could hear the crashing of branches and brush from behind her, and immediately crawled out from her hiding spot, and stood up, already running toward the watering hole. She pumped her arms, javelin swinging in her right, as she looked over her shoulder at her former hiding spot. Some large creatures burst through the brush in a lazy pace. They were huge, the size of horses but fat, armored. And so very strange looking.

As Qit ran toward the watering hole, she heard bellows and bleats and grunts and soon all eyes were on her. A predator caught in the act, essentially. Watching the herd of large beasts coming toward her, she soon realized that they didn't even seem to deem her a threat. She stopped running and stood there, and the large beasts flowed around her like an unstoppable river. She reached out with her free hand and touched the thick shell of one. It was so hard, and it felt very thick. She let her eyes fall on the exposed necks of the creatures, wondering if these were some sort of strange, giant turtle. She had no weapon that could pierce such armor. A sneak attack would have to be best.

Once the beasts were past, Qit calmed down. There'd be no hunting done here, not having given away her scent and position like she had. Huffing angrily, she trudge back into the overgrowth, cursing her recklessness, and ignoring her grumbling stomach. What she couldn't ignore was this damnable heat. She was in her breeches to protect her legs from the bite of thorns and the like, though she still remained barefoot. Untying the leather strap she kept around her wrist, she tied up her hair to help her cool down a bit.

Qit began trudging down the animal path she'd first discovered, though in the opposite direction this time, javelin in hand, still steaming about her misfortune. Probably wouldn't help that she'd taken a completely different path and hadn't yet realized it, and was on a path far from her cave. Several breaks later, she knew she was lost, hot, hungry, and very irritable. She tromped through the woods, more concerned about venting her frustration than being safe or careful.

Then she saw a bootprint in the dirt in front of her, and immediately stopped, growing quiet. She shouldered her javelin, and drew her shortsword. She was still new to these wilds, having only arrived last season, so she didn't know anyone, nor trusted anyone, particularly outside the city. Everyone out here was a threat to her. She didn't hunt people, but many others did. Qit'ria had no interest in becoming a slave, or worse. Stepping forward slowly, watching her path so as to not tread upon branches and loose stones, she peered through a bush, barely getting more than a glance. But she could make out a tent ahead. Someone made camp here.

Realizing she was close enough to possibly have been heard, she began to circle around the camp, forever minding her step, ears listening for any movements that were unnatural. Birds were still chittering happily so it seemed as if there wasn't any obvious danger she was missing. Reaching a stout tree, Qit belted her sword and reached up, grabbing the lowest branch. Huffing and heaving she pulled herself up, trying to climb without disturbing the tree much. A few more branches and she found herself nestled in the foliage, with a distant view of the camp. She didn't see any people immediately, but she'd watch, and wait. And pray they weren't a threat. And still once more, her stomach grumbled.

Created by Yolande

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[Arlo Creede]

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Lately, Arlo had dragged the logs that he and Vega sat on to take their meals, or for any other reason, away from their campfire and situated them in the shade provided by one of the larger trees in the area. Saun brought a nearly intolerant heat along with it, so the farther from a campfire for cooking, the better. The heat had also compelled him to engage in simple cooking techniques that didn't require as much labor as other things might. If he was going to exert himself much, better that energy was spent on other more interesting things than their trial by trial meals.

A pair of large pheasants roasting on a spit over the fire, that would be their meal. Along with a handful of good sized potatoes that he'd roasted in the coals, then hollowed out and cooked nearer the flames, filled with bacon, wild mushrooms and greens, bits of cheese and eggs cracked on top. What they didn't eat themselves would keep a while. But as often as not, a traveler on their way to Scalvoris would stop and visit briefly, share their meal then move on.

Arlo was plenty observant when it came to their surroundings. It was dangerous to be anything else, and as much time as they spent on the roads or in the wilds, it was a knack where the lack thereof could turn deadly in a heartbeat. On the other hand, he wasn't the only observant one. There was Vega of course, but there was also Peg. As a beast that was by nature attractive to any number of predators, at least the large ones, the brown mare came equipped with the sorts of natural instincts and keen senses that helped insure her survival. And on this particular trial, it was Peg that was the first to sense something out of place. She was grazing at the edge of camp and her head swiveled up and off to the side, her ears pricked forward as her nostrils flared, testing a scent in the air.

The young man noticed, but knew that Peg was as likely to react that way to a harmless stray dog wandering by, until she knew better. He looked up from tending their meal, looked around, then shrugged and decided to let Peg sort it out. But she wasn't the only one who noticed. The little companion that only Arlo could see in the waking world, as was her nature, had perked up even before Peg, and launched herself off the brim of her companion's hat. The dreamwalker's companion, friend, teacher and defender had an insatiable curiosity already. But she also saw and sensed things that were beyond a mere mortal like Arlo. So the little diri had sped gracefully off in the interloper's direction, swirling around the tree unseen several times before reaching out to touch Arlo's mind.

Arlo straightened, frowned curiously and looked Vega's way. "Lyova says we might have an audience nearby, off in the trees." But even as he said it, he didn't reach for any of the weapons he had stored outside his tent. Didn't seem to be good reason to. He'd come to trust the diri, brought to him by Jesine. It was just curiosity he sensed from his helpmate, without the alarm bells she might have raised had she believed it was necessary. Besides, most of his weapons were stacked outside the tent. But not all, considering the small pistol crossbow that he kept belted around his hip.

[Vega]

Vega was sitting on her log, which Arlo had mercifully moved away from the fire, and she was working on making some arrows. Her cousin and father had taught them how to earlier on this season and Vega figured that, whilst Arlo cooked, she should at least make herself useful. This was a common occurrence whilst he was cooking, so it meant that she was getting a lot better at making arrows and, furthermore, it meant that she'd worked to skin and clean the sn'oh deer they'd felled in the caves of Ishallr. She'd realised in a strange way they'd fallen into a routine; Vega didn't mind that, really, although the thought of it would have horrified her previously. Somehow, with Arlo, it was ok. That was because they knew each other, of course, because they were friends. It was acceptable, Vega had realised, to have a routine when you shared camp with your friend. It was also ok, she had decided, to wear shorts and a cropped top almost constantly because the heat was just too much. Vega was usually more the kind of person to wear a dress, but in this heat she had no qualms at all and had not cared, all season. As a result, the young woman with long legs and tied back red hair was tanned as she sat, legs out in front of her.

In terms of their surroundings, Vega didn't notice the person who was approaching them, but she glanced up at Storm, her horse. She had become good friends with the beautiful creature and as Storm whinnied and snorted, Vega lifted her head and gave a slight frown. Just as she was considering if she should get up and check on Storm and Peg, Arlo spoke. They had company, it seemed, off in the foliage. Lyova would have spotted that, of course. Vega nodded her head.

"Good to know," she replied. Even in shorts and a cropped vest, she had her sword at her waist. Her bow was next to her, however she packed up the arrows she was making, clearing away. "Well, if Lyova isn't worried, then I'm not." Vega was uncommonly fond of Arlo's fairy companion and, as a fellow dreamwalker she was able to see the fairy in dreams if Lyova wished it. With a nod at the food, she glanced at Arlo. "You made enough to share?" Vega thought it was best to ask since, knowing her, the one time that he hadn't would be the one time she didn't ask. When he confirmed that he had though, his grin telling her before he did, Vega nodded.

Standing, she moved over to put her things away and called out to where her companion had motioned. It made sense, it was the direction both horses were looking, too. "Hello. If there's anyone there," she called out, not shouting just loud enough to be heard if there was another being there, "we're not interested in trouble. We've got a log to sit on and some food to share, if you'd like."

With a glance back to Arlo, Vega resisted the urge to thump him, just because it might make a lie of her saying that they didn't want trouble. "Look at what you've done to me," she spoke those words quietly, almost a whisper, but her grin was genuine. "I've almost become a nice person." This willingness to share her space with people she didn't know was something she definitely blamed on Arlo Creede. There was a time when she'd feel awkward and concerned about that, brazenly pretending she didn't but now? Well, now she was more than happy to share their space. However,
if whoever was watching them didn't want to, that was fine too. It was up to them. "What we 'avin?" she asked, delightedly.

[Qit'ria]

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"Speech"

Finally, Qit'ria could see movement. It seemed a man, dark of hair, was cooking over the campfire. The winds shifted just enough to send the scent of the cooking birds toward the huntress. Her mouth salivated, her stomach practically roaring. She could tell it was fowl, the scent so recognizable, but there were other smells that she couldn't quite make out. There with the man, was also a woman, fiery of hair. It was a bit lighter than the red hues that rarely showed up within her own Sev'ryn people, but immediately Qit assumed the stereotypes that came with such women back home.

Further inspecting the camp, she saw a couple of horses that were absentmindedly eating, until once more the winds shifted, away from Qit'ria this time. Their heads moved around, before looking in her general direction. They smelled her, she assumed. Qit'ara didnt, couldn't, see the man's companion that found her resting in the boughs of that tree, and yet, the woman found the hairs on the back of her neck rising. Reflexively she hunched a little tighter, coiling her muscles, ready to flee. Something wasn't right, and she didn't know what.

It certainly didn't help when the flame-haired woman shouted in her direction. And she was offering the food that the man had made. Qit'ira's survival instincts were telling her to run, that this was a trap. No one just shared their food with a total stranger that they couldn't even see. She certainly wouldn't. It was unheard of, dangerous, reckless. What if she were a monster herself? Or a slaver?

But those damnable winds seemed to only be working against Qit'ria this day, sending the smell of pheasant and other delicious foods her way. Her stomach growled so loudly this time, a squirrel that had been watching her from a higher branch bounded away, mistaking it for another predator's warning. Qit slowly slid off the side of the branch, and hopped down to the ground with a light thud, staying crouched, out of immediate sight. She drew her shortsword, holding it defensively, amateurishly out in front of her as she took step after quiet step toward the camp.

Finally the huntress stepped around a bush, revealing herself to the pair at the camp. Qit showed no signs of aggression, but none of trust either. Her head swiveled around the camp, looking for any hidden enemies she'd not seen from her vantage point. It just seemed to be the pair of people and their steeds. This close to the food, and Qit'ria could feel her hunger taking control of her, forcing her to trust these strangers. She noticed that the woman wasn't wearing garb like that of city women, so perhaps she was of the more practical type like herself.

Still, she was a firehead.

Before edging any closer to the pair, Qit'ria belted her sword, disarming herself, still slowly stepping forward, a starving dog toward the campfire, eyes never leaving the people. Her heart was pounding loudly behind her doeskin vest, her breeches sticking to her legs from nervous sweat. Well, nervousness and this immortals damned heat. And still she inched closer.

And like the reluctantly obedient dog she was, she approached the offered log, and sat on the furthest edge from them. Her eyes kept bouncing rapidly from the pheasant to each of the people in time. And for several long moments, she was silent.

Then in her thick Sev'ryn accent, she spoke. "Qit'ria," laying a hand flat over her chest. "I no danger," she then looked at the redhead woman, "I no sex with firehair. No for food, no for nothing." It was stated so matter of factly, as if anyone in the world would completely understand what it meant. When in reality, it was just spawned from an inside joke between her parents, that all red headed women, at least those among the Sev'ryn, lay only with women, and often sought favors from non redheads.

And yet again, her grumbling stomach filled the air around her.

Created by Yolande

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[Arlo Creede]

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Over time, Arlo and Vega had grown comfortable enough in each other's presence, that companionable silences didn't feel awkward or strange. They never lasted long, truth told. Each of them was too outspoken for that. But nonetheless, it was a different sort of quiet than the long periods of solitude that he'd experienced, back when he'd traveled alone. And before Lyova had joined him. And besides, if you were going to have company, all the better that they had great legs. Vega did, Arlo had discovered, once they'd been necessarily bared by the miserable heat of Saun. Not that he'd mentioned it. She'd have punched him.

But he too had fallen into habit of wearing as little as he could get away with, and this trial like others he'd pulled his shirt off while he worked and tossed it aside. Kept his hat on though. Some things never changed. "Of course I made enough," he told her when she asked, and at the same time watched the treeline she called out towards the area where both horses were looking, and which Lyova had returned from just before settling back down in the brim of his hat. "More than enough." He always did, even before he'd joined up with Vega outside of Desnind. He'd be no proper follower of Cassion if he wasn't prepared to share a fire and a meal with a weary or hungry traveler. It wasn't just sustenance. It was worship.

"Almost," he teased Vega, even as he caught sight of a figure dropping down from the branches. Nice, that was. "That's the key word. Almost. And we're having pheasant, and potatoes filled with bacon and greens, cheese and eggs." All things that could just as easily be taken in hand to eat, as with knife and fork. Crouching down by the fire, he lifted the birds from the flame on their spits, and set them aside to rest. Squinting against the sun, he watched.

A woman, maybe older than him and Vega. Or maybe not. But she looked like someone who was far more comfortable in the wilds than in civilization, and the way she moved towards them, she seemed as skittish as a doe with a new fawn. As if she might bolt at the slightest provocation. To her credit though, she came on in and sat herself down. She was no danger? Arlo grinned a little as he pulled off his hat and wiped the sweat off his brow before putting it back on. "Neither are we, Qit'ria, I'm Arlo, this is Vega." She was welcome here, he added. And just as well, what sounded like an empty stomach in revolt whispered along to his ears on a insufferably hot breeze.

Just as well. Just as he turned round to put some plates together, and dropped down on his heels to do it, she stated her terms, plain as could be. No sex with firehair? It had come out of nowhere, caught him off guard and a grin tugged hard at his features, his shoulders lifted with the effort of stifling a surprised by perhaps also amused snort. "Uh oh," he uttered under his breath, as if in anticipation. This was Vega, after all.

[Vega]

Vega had given up teasing Arlo about being half naked with a hat. Or, more precisely, Vega hadn't given up on it at all. Every now and then, as he was cooking or, more often, when he was doing something which required use of his muscles, she'd give a snort and proclaim "Nice hat. Really." It was impossible not to wind him up, she had decided, because if she didn't then she'd have had to be serious and that would never do. It was because, Vega had decided, in his cut off trousers and no shirt he managed to look almost like a grown up. A tall, lithe, well proportioned grown up and there was no way on Idalos that she would admit that. This trial, she frowned and glanced at him and then simply stated what she thought was the obvious. "Yer gonna look like death when that tan fades, you know. All pale an' peaky. Pappa used to tell me that I didn't tan, my freckles jus' joined up." Vega gave a grin as she spoke again, her words entirely and completely heartfelt. "I bloody 'ate havin' freckles. No self-respectin' adult has freckles."

She was almost nice? Well, she'd said it so she couldn't argue and besides, he was right; it was the most important word there. "Yeah, like almost a grown up, Arlo. Almost is the key word there. Almost." Her gaze turned to the newest person to wander into their camp. It was almost certainly the smell of Arlo's cooking, Vega considered. The woman, who seemed older than both her and Arlo although she might just be rough looking, came forward holding her sword out in front of her like the pair of them were going to attack her. Frankly, the way she held her sword, Vega thought that she could kick her into next Ashan without bothering to draw her own blade but it was best not to get too sure of herself.

Still, their guest belted the sword and moved closer. Then closer still and she slunk in like a whipped puppy who was starving. Having finally mustered up the courage to sit down, the woman was quiet and Vega got the chance to look her over. She looked, to the mixed blood woman's eyes, like she was probably Sev'ryn. She had the whole furry-leather-look-I-don't-wash vibe going on which was usual for that lot. Then, when she spoke, Vega was in no doubt. Qit'ria, she introduced herself as and she said she was no danger. Arlo replied and introduced them both; Vega smiled in a friendly enough way, happy to go along with what was very much Arlo's thing of letting strangers into the camp and....

.... and say what now?

When Qit'ria spoke, proclaiming that she wasn't going to have sex with a firehair, which Vega presumed was her, the young woman turned a gaze to their guest which was utterly incredulous. Vega's eyes were swirling with colour, although they settled on predominantly deep wine red with flecks of white pretty quickly. Then, Vega spoke in fluent Xanthean.

"You are, of course, pulling my leg? Were you raised by beasts that you forget your manners? Firstly, let me be clear," as she spoke, Vega's hands moved in a series of fast-paced signs. Just in case this woman didn't understand Xanthean, but did understand common sign. Plus, she knew that Arlo did understand it, too, so he'd get the general idea. "Frankly, love, I wouldn't piss on you if you were on fire, much less let you anywhere near me. I have standards. I like men, and I have a rule of not sleeping with rude people. Just in case that isn't clear enough," Vega was furious, Arlo knew her well enough to know that she wasn't one tiny bit amused by this situation. "It is worse than rude to spy on people, come into their camp when invited with the intention of sharing their food and to say such thing. You are old enough to know better and you shame yourself and your ancestors."

Vega, it appeared, had a good head of steam on her and wasn't stopping. On the plus side, Arlo might notice that her common sign had gotten a lot better, too. "Now, I don't know how you were raised, but let me tell you something. You make a comment like that again about me, or you insult him," she left the addition of Arlo in her remit of protection out of the signing, he didn't need to know, "And I will personally take it upon myself to punch you into next Ashan. When you arrive there, the children will scream cos I'll 'ave turned your face inside out. Now the next words out of your rude and ignorant mouth had better be an apology or I'm going to really lose my rag."

[Qit'ria]

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"Speech"

Qit'ria nodded as the dark haired man introduced himself and his red-headed companion, smiling softly at him. He seemed to have a kind face and demeanor, warm and welcoming. And Qit had learned long ago that those that invite you to share a meal were often cut from the same cloth as this man. Good people. Qit always held cooks in high esteem, particularly because she was fairly hopeless in that regard. She was real good at burning food though. Better than raw in most cases.

Qit'ria's head cocked as she watched Vega's eyes change color in reaction to her crass comment. The Sev'ryn woman couldn't remember what Vega's first eye color had been but the deep red that they were now was both beautiful and intimidating. It immediately set Qit on edge, ready to fight or flee from this woman. At least that was the case, until Qit heard the woman speaking in her native tongue of Xanthean. And despite the hostile and offended words the woman shared, Qit relaxed heavily and just broke into a big toothy grin. It had been so long since she'd heard her native language, she'd forgotten how nice it was speaking in a language she knew well.

And the temper was expected. After all, this Vega woman was a fire hair. Her Common hand signs were far to fast for Qit to fully understand, but she caught every bit of the Xanthean, smile only growing more and more, and a truly genuine one at that. This woman reminded her of her own mother on a tirade. And for the first time in a long time, Qit was reminded of home. So once Vega had finished her rant, Qit just burst out laughing, clutching at her rumbling stomach as she did, making little kicks of her legs as she filled the air with the nasal laugh she'd inherited from her father.

Quickly she caught her breath, and in Xanthean, between bursts of laughs, "Yes, just a joke." A chuckle followed, "And yes, I'm Sev'ryn, we are raised by beasts." Qit raised her hands in front of her in a sign of peace, palms out, "I'm sorry Vega Firehair." She bowed her head, keeping her eyes low, but locked on Vega's, submission, but not disrespect. In Common, "If not care, and still welcome, I help? Make right. I no cook good, can help with camp chore. I not," she paused trying to think of the word, "Tree choker. I earn, if can."

She looked to Vega, waiting for a response from her, as the offended party, and clearly the decided of Qit'ria's immediate fate. Qit wasn't about to pull her sword on the woman, even if Vega attacked her. That would be foolish. She could hardly use the blade anyways. And it was just something that wasn't done. A fight started by tongues should be finished with fists, in Qit's minds. Reckless to bring weapons into that. But she was also ready to flee, for she did not know how big of a threat this fire hair would be, let alone her companion. Either way, it seemed diplomacy was the safest option. And diplomacy was a lot easier for the huntress when her native tongue was an option.

Created by Yolande

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[Arlo Creede]

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"I dunno. I kind of like them," Arlo had observed when Vega mentioned her freckles. It was true that her exposed skin tended not to grow darker in the hot season, but instead grew more speckled. But, he pointed out, that was part of what made her different...It was like a field of stars that populated to a larger extent during the warmer parts of the arc. It was as close as he ever got to real flattery. Which was fine. If he went too far, he suspected that Vega might up and punch him.

Sort of, a little bit like the way he thought she might up and punch their new guest on a whim. A different sort of whim than the ones that arose between him and her, time to time. In fact, Arlo reasoned, judging by the way her eyes flashed an array of colors in response to the new arrival's comments, he might be witnessing the beginnings of a brawl. Wisely, the young dreamwalker and follower of Cassion reasoned, he'd choose to stay out of the thick of it. Never between two scrapping women. He might be young, but even he recognized the wisdom of the advice given him by his stepfather arcs before now.

His grasp of Xanthean was sketchy enough to be non-existent. His familiarity with Vega's temper and the shifting colors of her eyes was somewhat better. Signing? He understood it perfectly well and could communicate in turn. But all put together, and there was no denying that Vega was riled. An impulse tugged at him to grin or laugh aloud. But knowing the pitfalls, he resisted. What he didn't really expect though was Qit'ria's response. That was the thing about women though. Unpredictable.

He observed, and his grin was a tentative one, considering he couldn't predict how Vega would respond to that in turn. As a result, Arlo decided to put their meals together, off to the side, out of the fray in case one broke out. "Tree choker?" Ultimately he couldn't resist asking as he straightened from near the fire with two plates in his hands and another one in reserve. He glanced at Vega, as if she might be able to interpret. So far as the meal however, it was all prepared, plated, and nothing left to do but eat it. Hoping the crisis had passed, he lifted the two plates, urging them to take them. "It's roasted pheasant and hollowed out potatoes filled with greens, cheese, eggs and bacon. You can eat all of it with the hands," he said, but would scare up a few eating tools if either of them preferred it.

[Vega]

He liked her freckles? Vega looked at Arlo suspiciously as he said that, her eyes narrowing as she waited for the teasing to begin. Not only did it not but he then said that it was like a field of stars? Her suspicion turned into a deep frown as she considered it. Was he being serious? Eyes narrowed as she regarded him and she didn't know whether to blush a little or thump him. In the end, after a few trill, Vega decided to snort and shake her head. "I'm not bitin' Arlo Creede."

Which might be true for him, but in terms of their visitor, Vega bit. In fairness, she bit and then some. The woman laughed and claimed it was a joke, but then turned and spoke to Arlo, all sweet and nice. Vega felt an immediate, complete and totally justified irritation at the woman. She had the audacity to laugh, but then she did apologise. It wasn't good enough and Vega hated her on principle. However, she'd done what Vega had asked and so she gave a vague sort of huffing noise. Arlo was quick as a flash, of course. She could see, he was doing his very best to not beam with delight.

"Help if you want to. Arlo will appreciate it." Vega said to Qit'ria, speaking in Xanthean whilst also signing what she said, sort of, to Arlo. He turned around with a grin on his face, of course, like it was funny that the woman had done and said what she had. Of course, to him, it probably was. Field of snardling stars, indeed, she thought with a glower. He'd put a plate in reserve, which she assumed was the one for her and so she went and got it. Her temper flare had not entirely abated, but this was what Arlo did, it was an act of worship for him to feed others, even obnoxious ass scruffy looking women.

"You said 'tree choker'. You are not a 'tree choker'. What did you mean?" Vega asked and signed at the same time. That way, they both knew what she said. There was no need to be dealing with cutlery as far as she was concerned. Besides, the less she used, the less she washed up. It seemed only fair, since he did the cooking that she deal with the cleaning of the utensils and tools, plates and so on. Looking at Arlo, she nodded over to their guest. "If you want to, I'll translate."

Then, to Qit'ria, Vega asked. "So, how long have you lived in Scalvoris?" It was the closest to polite that she could manage. Vega didn't do polite as a rule. She made sure, though, that she was signing as well, both the question and, if needs be, the answer too. "You're a long way from Desnind. We were there a few seasons ago." Why was she making small talk, Vega thought and shut up, concentrating on her food whilst chuntering to herself internally.

[Qit'ria]

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"Speech"

It seemed as if she'd received permission to help, and that the majority of the tension had lessened. That pleased Qit'ria, and she relaxed a good bit, no longer a fight or flight risk. The man, this Arlocreed, a strange name, but she was in a strange land, was soothing and pleasant. Like the water to the other woman's fire. And yet it seemed that there was a slight hang up in the language barrier. As usual.

Gesturing with her hands, in no specific signing language, she attempted to explain in Common. "Tree choker. Plant rope on tree. No grow without tree. Harm tree. Steal life." She knew the word for vine in her native tongue, but she did apparently need to learn how to communicate better. "I no tree choker. I tree." The final gesture, she pointed at her chest, where the canopy of her large tree tattoo could be seen.

In her native tongue, to Vega, "Life stealing vine. I work for my keep. I want to help around here as needed, payment for the meal."

The scent of the nearly finished food was overwhelming as her stomach yet again grumbled loudly. She understood most of the food words this Arlocreed used, but there was one she did not. "What is potatoes? I not know potatos." She took the plate from the man, smiling at him, "Much thank. Smells goodful. Most skilled cooker. I no cook good. Always make black."

Sitting back comfortable, she grabbed a piece of the hot, juicy meat, and plunked it into her mouth, savoring the juices, her face lighting up brightly. A bit of a moan was elicited as she swallowed the food, and picked up one of the potatoes as well. Looking toward Vega, in response to her latest question, "I come Scalvoris one season before. Love island. Many animal hunt, not lots people. Is good."

It was surprising to hear these two had been to Desnind not long ago. These two were both very surprising. She spoke Xanthean, and now they'd been to her home town. So very... refreshing. "Like Desnind? Like big forest? No forest else like Desnind forest. What do in Desnind? Why leave?"

She popped the potato in her mouth and chewed, surprised at the texture, but loving it. So fluffy and delicious. Though very hot, slightly burning her mouth, so she gasped a bit, airing at her mouth, inadvertently showing the contents within to the pair. "You... ọluwọyẹ yäwä? Travel much? I travel much, look for forest friend. No find. Soon." She continued picking apart and savoring her food. There was nothing about it she did not love.

Translation

ọluwọyẹ yäwä = Tent Share/Couple

Created by Yolande

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