(C1, Racksom) The Making of Men (12th Board)

Making a mental note of the fact that the barbarian was making a habit of pretending that Little Blonde wasn't in the way and simply walking through him, he voiced his understanding briefly and turned to Vesperia to tell her about their strange living arrangements.

'The wind pays no more attention to reeds than it does the mountains. It parts or passes, but never ceases in it's path.'

Been a while since I got a morsel of insight from you. Little Blonde sniffed at hearing the Voice again but more or less decided that the commentary was not particularly hard to figure out and therefore not immediately important or vital. More of an observation and less of some sort of foreshadowing or prophecy. "Right, so, as you can see, we sleep in the barn." He said, walking into the stables and assuming that the mage would follow him as she had been doing this whole time. "I personally saw to the mucking of the stalls, so I can assure you that they're spotless." A humorless grin graced his face briefly tinged with the memory of pain because of what had happened after the stalls had been cleaned, but it passed quickly. "The horses are warm, but they're well… horses, so if you don't want to share your bed with one I understand. The saddles and tack are kept here," He pointed out a rack of harnesses and other bits of leather essential to riding, "and everything else for them is up in this rack here." Walking over to a wall with a sliding panel, he moved the thin door out of the way to reveal any number of saddle blankets for the horses neatly folded and tucked away in storage. "So that's that. What would you like to do? About your sleeping arrangements, anyway."

When Ves followed Vann into the stables she felt a wave of emotion over come her. She did her best to ignore it. She followed Vann around while he showed her where everything was, and she kept quiet all the while, her head down cast, and her sight always averted from the horses. When one of them would make a noise, she'd just slightly and paused for just a second before pretending like that hadn't happened. Although, the tour was coming to an end as she learned where things where and how to find them, and pretty soon her resolve was fading. It was only a few seconds after Little Blonde had finished telling her everything and had asked where she wanted to stay that she knew she was pretty close to her limit.

Looking around at the different horses, the mares and stallions, she couldn't help but think of her own mare. Lost somewhere out in the world. Was Sorrahkin with Akar? Was she all alone? Had those men killed her that day? Her eyes landed on a small chestnut colt. He had a white blaze and three white socks with the exception of his back left leg. He was younger, a colt soon to be a stallion, and he stood awkwardly as if trying to impress the mare on his right. He's toss his head and snort only to be ignored. That was almost how Ves felt sometimes. She'd show off what she could do, but she'd be ignored or people wouldn't believe it was her own magic. Tears slipped from her eyes then as she gazed at the colt. Sniffling, Ves tried to keep quiet as she cried. She missed Sorrahkin so much. Her own little pony. She'd raised her, she'd fed her. She even stayed up all night with her when she got sick or lame. Sleeping right by her side no matter the weather. Ves let her hair fall into her face as she held one arm up slightly to her face.

At first, he didn't notice Vesperia's adverse reaction to being in the stable. He of course had no idea that she had a horse she'd lost, and so when he turned and waited for her to say something, he was surprised to find her with her head bowed and… crying? His stomach sank, wondering what he'd done wrong. His instructions weren't that horrible, were they? More importantly, would Andyr care that he'd reduced their healer and secondary language teacher to tears? Confused, worried, and having no idea what to do, he stepped forward and put what he hoped was a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Are you alright?" He asked, stooping a little to try and catch her eye. "I'm sorry if I said anything wrong, I really didn't mean to."

'Are you alright?' The words made Ves stop for a moment. She shifted slightly so she could see him. The way he was stooping slightly to see her face. His hand on her shoulder. She rubbed her eyes and sniffed slightly. She was blushing again, but only slightly. More, she pulled herself together and looked up at him in the way that she looked at all males, from the tops of her eyes, with her head slightly bowed. "I'm sorry," she spoke softly. Her eyes returned to the horse in his stall. She pointed at it. "Can I stay with that one?" she asked small-ly. She wasn't used to asking for things and it made her kind of nervous. After all, he was a man, she was only a women.

"You didn't do anything," she added softer. She returned her gaze to him, rubbing the corners of her eyes again with a hand. "It just reminds me of home is all," she said looking down. Her last words steadily quieter till she trailed into silence. She knew he probably didn't care to hear about her past. Like most men he probably was making sure he didn't do anything, then he'd pretend to listen but really wouldn't. That was how all the guys here were. All she knew anyways. Little to none were anything different and yet... And yet she felt like maybe, just maybe this man, Little Blonde as the barbarian called him, might be the most different than anyone else in Racksom, or even in this group of warriors.

Hearing that it wasn't his fault for her tears was a giant relief, though he wasn't any less concerned for her. Homesickness was something he could certainly relate to, but hadn't had much time to think about. Between being imprisoned as a yard worker and appointed as Andyr's understudy, he'd had precious little time to get involved in wondering how he'd ended up in Racksom in the first place and why he was here. Those were questions that he couldn't answer with what little knowledge was available to him, and the Voice that was in his head and seemed to control his dreams was not giving any hints either. He had a sneaking suspicion that the other being was most probably responsible for his memory loss, but there was no real way of confronting whatever it was on the subject or even if he did, he didn't know how to force the thing to give his memories back.

Looking at the colt, Little Blonde saw no reason to deny her, especially if it would comfort her in some way. "Of course." he replied quietly and let her have her breathing room, walking to where the blankets were stored and pulling out a couple, then walked to the young horse's stall. After draping the blankets over the side of the stall he returned to the woman's side and offered her a sympathetic smile. "If you need anything, I'm just a shout away."

Ves smiled happily when he agreed to where she wanted to stay. She bowed to Little Blonde and spoke softly to him. "Thank you, sir," she said. All she knew was his name was Little Blonde. Or at least that was what the barbarian called him. So, while she didn't know his name, she'd call him Sir. Of course, even if she knew his name, she'd probably still call him Sir. It was just how he was. She watched him put the blankets over the side of the stall then ducked her head slightly as he returned to her side. "Thank you again," she added when he returned. Bowing again, she backed away from him and headed over to meet the young colt. She needed to get to know the young creature after all.

When she approached the colt, he stopped trying to impress the mare and instead turned to her. Ves stopped and leaned on the stall door as the colt sniffed her curiously. Ves held her hand up humming softly. She wanted the colt to want her here, not to force herself into his life. He pinned his ears at first, not wanting anything to do with he. He tossed his head and nickered softly. Ves didn't move a mussel. She kept completely still still humming softly. It took a little while, but finally the colt got too curious and pressed his nose to the palm of her hand. Ves smiled and rubbed his nose softly, then with two fingers, she rubbed small circles on his forehead. Once his ears pricked towards her, she entered the stall and closed the door behind her. She then brushed her hand down his neck petting the colt softly. All the while she kept humming the same soft tune.

He watched the mage for a moment longer after she turned away to attend to the colt and almost left himself, but something nagged at him to stay. He paused a second longer before it finally came to him. "Vann." He said, just loud enough to be heard. "I'm not important enough to be called sir, so just… Vann will do." Satisfied now that that was out of the way, he turned and headed toward where he'd seen Andyr disappear to last.

'Leaf on the wind, watch how it flies. Caught between the sky and surf, yet watch it cling to the branch that abandoned it. Will it land in the past or the present? Only the shifting breeze, fate's subtle breath and destiny's gentle hands can see the journey through.'

That makes me the leaf, right? Your mysterious mumbling is getting less hard to decipher.' Vann mumbled to himself, knowing that the voice would hear him even if he were silent. For now, he had bigger things to do than figure out the mumblings in his head and went to go find Andyr.

Andyr's hand caught Little Blond on his left ear. He was working in a stall and had heard parts of the exchange. "You have no name, Little Blond. You are my son, I give you name after proving of mettle" he said and tugged him over, with a grip like a vice around the other man's bicep. "Much repairs. Wood rotten bad for us and horses... ignorant little men here" he said. Andyr thought they should have built the damn stables out of stone, and the stalls were the only wooden structure allowed, although he still preferred stone. Wood rotted, after all. Hell, it was always the wood that his tribe discarded when they moved on. The furs kept, the skins kept, the bones kept, but never the wood. Most collapsible tents were with bone poles, from the great shaggy creatures with long tusks... the Mammutar... Mammoths.

He looked over the stall, to where the mage was humming and tending to the colt, then back at Little Blond.

"This woman. She is woman. If you want be whelp, stay near her. If you want be Man, your time is mine. You work what I say. You harden self, make callouses, more muscles, tired... exhausted every night. Understand?" he said and patted the ground. "Sit. I want you teaching me this bastard language" he said.

He would learn as he worked on the stable, it was the only respite from work that Little Blond would get.

"Oh. And she is here now, so if you do stupid thing, I beat you again, yes?" he added as he tore the plank off the back wall of the stall. "I ask to make proper oar and they do this, I find this good, is from tribe live on river, oars hurt" he said and rubbed his own stomach in remembrance of his own beatings. Only he'd been strung up on a tree and all the Men had had a turn at him.

"I am thinking, also, when you become proper jakthund, proper chosen son. I call you Andyrson.... or... ah. Anderson. No longer are you Vannelson, he is dead. You killed him when you throw off work yoke... would have been actual death if I did nothing back there" he said, although most of it wasn't really asking him so much as telling him, or simply talking aloud.

He looked over his shoulder. "Correct mistakes. Start when I ask for you sitting, yes?".

His first reaction was surprise, quickly followed by pain. Of course Andyr would be standing right around the corner and would have heard the entire exchange. That was just his luck. But going for the ears seemed a little excessive. It made him remember vividly those first few years at the monastery whenever he would fall asleep on his historical studies. Ah, the name thing again. He thought he had resolved to letting the barbarian call him Little Blonde and had tried to think of himself that way as well, but it seemed entirely too… obvious. The assertion that he was considered a son to the larger man confused him further. Even if he was still seventeen, the man would barely be old enough to be his father, but he had aged significantly during his memory loss and now he was definitely too old to be the man's son. It would have been amusing if he wasn't loosing circulation to his hand from Andyr holding his bicep so hard, and after a brief inspection of his hands which were already covered in some generous expanses of callouses, some old from before his memory loss, others new from his time in the labor yard and wondered if his hands would have to resemble sand paper before Andyr was happy.

It took a bit to sort through his grammar, but once Little Blonde had figured out that Andyr was essentially calling him a child for talking to a female, it stung his pride a bit. Humbleness was one of the teaching points of his order of course, but calling him a boy because he wasn't going to be unnecessarily mean to strangers had him biting back a quick retort that probably would have earned him another beating, something that he was not at all keen on reliving. Instead he concentrated on how he was going to try and impress on Andyr the significance of the word "to" and "that" to add to his hobbling vocabulary when the subject of getting yet another name added to his list of titles was brought up. Briefly he stared at Andyr with a small amount of disbelief half way through attempting to pry off a rotten expanse of wood. How many names was he going to get before the icelander was done with him?

"I understand." He supplied finally as a means of agreeing to all the terms that Andyr had set out, whether he really agreed with them or not. There was little choice in the matter, and besides, being here and playing tutor was keeping him from moving rubble and being whipped for his efforts. Looking at all of the wood in the barn that probably needed replacing, he puffed a sigh. There was going to be a large pile of un-burnable wood standing outside by the time they were done. "We probably need more paneling brought in." He mumbled mostly to himself as he considered all the work ahead of them. "And something to support the beams if we have to take out the old ones. Some of this is nearly unsalvageable…" He rapped on a damp beam and it made a soft sound instead of a solid knock, proving his point. "Wonder if there's any useable wood in the labor yard…?"

Ves listened to the two of them, for one, they were the only other noise as she'd stopped her humming, and two she herself was floating about 6 inches off the ground, sitting cross legged and watching the colt go about trying to impress the mare once more. As she listened she felt a sting of a wide range of emotions. It wasn't like she wasn't used to being called a lot of things, but honestly she was getting more and more irritated with this set up. She was a noble. A princess as her father had once said. All fathers said that, but when she refused it, he told her that one day with all the money they had, they could buy any place they wanted and rule it. She'd taken that to heart and had aspired to one day become someone people would like. Someone people could go to. Not this toy for males to play with.

At first, her mind had been thinking of the blonde haired man. 'Vann,' she thought happily to herself. 'It's an interesting name. It must stand for something.' Of course happiness was an emotion short lived with Vespira. It always had been since she was younger. Next came a bit of pain. How far had she follow in the many years of growing up in darkness? She literally had been a toy until she learned she could prevent it. She could lure them to sleep, fill there minds with memories, all of it could be falsified. It wasn't hard, but it had been tasking to do so many times. She'd learned to master it in a week. No more would those pigs touch her. Now look where she was. She was safe as long as she did what she was told. She wouldn't leave King Zartear, she knew that. He's allowed her in when everyone else had turned her away. He's saved her. But still, she half wanted to be noticed.

She hardly realized the burning anger she felt. She didn't even notice the colt's wide eyes stare at her as he shifted away. The air around her turning chill, but it wasn't something she knew she was doing. In fact, it wasn't until she heard a creaking sound of wood that she opened her eyes and sit the ground about the same time that one of the rotten wooden board came lose near Andyr and would then spring out with one end aimed at him. "Umpf," she said hitting the bedding in the straw. Wide eyed she froze in place. What had she just done? How had she just done that? The colt pressed his nose against her shoulder and nibbled on her shirt. "Oh crap," she whispered to herself.

The beam struck him right above the eye, opening up a gash that bled freely into his eye. Instinctively he closed the eye and looked to Little Blond. "You are right... about wood beams. Very good. I see what I can do about wood, you finish here" he said, gesturing to the stall. Andyr hadn't got upset because he didn't exactly think someone had torn the plank loose and chucked it at him. In his eyes, he'd been pulling the planks loose and he'd pulled too hard. It would never have occurred to him that the woman was the one who had manipulated the wood.

He left the stables for a short amount of time, long enough to see about getting some new wood for the stables, and supplies, but short enough to arrive just as Little Blond was finishing up the work he was given.

"Woman! I come see you about eye. Are you up?" he asked as he trudged past, planks stacked high on one shoulder, two beams held under the other arm. His muscles bulged at that load, but the one on his shoulder was much more manageable. "Little Blond! These beams. They are heavy come get" he said and stopped outside of the stall. There were two hammers slung through his belt and a sack of nails hung from it.

They both may have known cruelty and hatred, evil and meanness, but Andyr was hardly that. He was just culturally different, and forceful. He never said he was going to do something and didn't carry through, and when he set his mind to a task, he followed it doggedly. He'd had so many small injuries in the past, that getting hit or hurt while working didn't bother him in the slightest, and if the woman wasn't up, he'd just clean the wound as best he could and see about it later.

Vespira held her breath as she waited for some sign that she was going to get into trouble. Or that Vann might. She wouldn't let that happen though if that were the case. She did the deed, she'd be responsible for it. However, it seemed that Andyr hadn't even noticed that she'd done it. She blinked, and exhaled when he left. She shut her eyes and rubbed her head. Her magic had never spanned from emotion so much before. It was almost as if her control had slipped. Well, actually it technically had. The problem was, she wasn't sure why. She was used to being treated like this. It was almost all she knew, but still, something sparked there. Shaking her head, she stood up and silently left the colt's stall. Looking around where Vann had shown her things were she found things to groom the colt and returned to the stall.

When Andyr called out to her, Ves jumped. She was braiding the colt's main into tight little bumps on his head. It was how she always got Sorrahkin's mane to be soft and smooth. She'd picked his feet, which wasn't a surprise to her to find completely spotless, and had brushed him out till his coat was shinning. "Yes sir," she said softly as she put down the comb that was in her hand and the little bands to hold the braids. She walked over to the end of the stall and looked out, and once she spotted Andyr she let her hair fall into her face as she felt guilty. She was a little nervous now. Did he know it was her that had caused the beam to hit him? "Hold on, I can heal that easily," she said softly, quietly, nervously. She would walk over to the barbarian and bow softly before using the air to push herself up enough to be able to touch the wound lightly with one finger. She'd shut her eyes and focus on it, and the wound would heal. After, she'd drop back down, back up and bow to the barbarian.

Andyr smiled as she healed him. She had a soothing touch, however, he'd noticed her floating, how couldn't he? She was a master of wind? As a man of a tribe in the Ice Plains, he hadn't seen a lot of magic, and so every new bit always surprised him. He'd noticed, though that the natives of this Dragon's Cove were better at magic than these Surahnians. Andyr didn't really know it, but his own people had their own kind of magic that helped them to survive in the cold. It was why Andyr could walk around barechested in their 'winter' and be pretty much alright. For Andyr, the South had an eternal summer-spring weather system. In the Ice Plains, after all, there was only winter, and freezing.

"Very good. Thank you. Are we hungry? Little Blond! We eat now? We can finish work later" he said.

And probably for the umpteenth time, only this time with her obvious knowledge, he looked at her like a man looks at a woman... and really couldn't find anything in him for her. No, she wasn't his type, but that wasn't to say she wasn't lovely. He turned his attention away from her and to the stall where he knew Little Blond to be working.

There had been a considerable amount of time between training, healing and working and food. They'd eaten before the training. That was hours ago.

He flinched visibly when the wood cracked and suddenly hit Andyr, wondering how it was that such a dilapidated bit of moldy wood had enough spring in it to do that. Examining the current board that he had his own hands on, he pulled a little more gingerly, not at all wanting to end up with a splintery gouge on his face. With a pile of soggy plywood in his hands he went to go dump the load oustide the stable where they could talk care of it later and helped Andyr with the heavy boards without protest, but did cringe under their weight. He wasn't exactly built like the barbarian was, so "awkwardly heavy" for Andyr was back-breaking for him. He paused during his task, a possibly unwise move but couldn't help it when he saw the woman floating. Magic, huh? He'd never seen much of it himself. Shaking his head slowly he resumed his duties.

When it came time for lunch he led them to the mess hall, which was of course busy and full of people who openly stared at Andyr, ignored him, and made snide comments to each other about the woman following along in their wake. All in all, business as usual. However, when they got down to the meal Vann spent a considerable portion of it lecturing the proper uses of the words "to" and "that", taking to heart Andyr's warning that if he wasn't working, he was teaching. Besides, he knew that the barbarian was actually quiet intelligent despite his look that most people associated with lumbering meat-heads. After fumbling through a few explanations (honestly, who thought about why "that" was an important part of grammar?), he finally got his point across by the time that lunch was over and continued listing the intricacies of the common language on the way back to the barn.

By the time that they got back he had thought of half a dozen things that he probably need to impress on the man, but his observation on the interaction between the barbarian and Vesperia, and couldn't help to find that every time he addressed the woman that it rubbed him the wrong way each time. Finally his own irritation got the best of him, and he decided against his better judgement to question the barbarian about it. "Why do you call her woman? She has a name, you know."

He looked at Little Blond as though he'd grown another head. "Aye, she has a name, she did not tell it to me. Besides, a Man does not have much dealing with a Woman. She heals. That is all I need her for" he said. He grinned. "See. I said that. It makes sense now" he said and set back to fixing the stall. "I told you already, if you wish to forever remain a whelp, get closer to her, speak to her everyday. Learn her name and call her by it as all whelps call their mothers. Just do not expect me to make you a man" he said. He grinned wider. "Ah, the to in these sentences makes sense. I see it now" he said.

He was much more focused on his speech than the outright cultural bias he had against women and his reasons for his sexism.

They were sure to rankle Little Blond up enough for another not very smart question.

This could only lead downhill.

Vespire nodded her head in response to his thanks. She kept looking at the ground, her eyes only peering up at him so slightly. She was a little hungry, but she still wanted to finish with the colt. Oh well, she'd have to do it after lunch. So, she only nodded her head once shortly. She didn't really give an actual answer. She followed the two of them into the mess hall and ignored the noises of the people talking. She always did. She was completely used to everyone's talking because she knew if anyone tried anything they'd get burned or tossed into a wall. That was how she worked. No one touched her without permission. Male or not. Not anymore.

Ves sat quietly during eating. She felt weird actually eating in this hall. She was used to getting the food, but normally she left and ate somewhere alone. Mostly outside because it meant she could have fresh air, and still be alone. Mostly she kept her head down and ate silently while she listened to Vann explain grammar. Apparently she was supposed to help teach Andyr, but really, she didn't know exactly where to start or what to say. Seeing as technically she wasn't supposed to talk unless spoken to. So, instead she started to think about the past and making little head bands of flowers for Akar, and letting Sorrahkin follow her around and training her on what people would want out of her.

Ves followed them back to the barn with her normal ghostly quietness. She was completely fine with having to follow them around because they gave her a bit more freedom then the soldiers in the main buildings did. By the time they got back into the barn, Ves quietly moved back towards the stall but she paused when Vann spoke. She looked over her shoulder shocked by what he said. Of course, she felt put back in her place when Andyr spoke though. The same anger from before hit her again and she felt like the wood of the stalls around her were going to catch on fire as heat circled her in a visible red glow. "You men are all the same," she said. Though, her voice was actually not so quiet, but it was still smooth.

So astonished by the blatant faults in Andyr's train of logic, he couldn't even be properly happy for him that he'd put his most recent addition of vocabulary to good use. He wasn't aware that he was gaping until his jaw snapped shut and clenched in barely restrained anger. The statement went against everything he'd been taught by the Order, an affront to his personal social code, and even with the threat of another beating with a sword looming as a very possible punishment for disagreeing with Andyr, he was about ready to try it. The sudden heat flaring at his back cut him short, however and he turned sharply to see the source of it only to find that is was Vesperia. Glowing. The horses noticed the intense heat as well, the animals sensing the disturbance and reacting to the unusual occurrence, filcking their ears in annoyance and snorting.

'The second is the modifier, the hour the revisor. Within a day the world becomes anew, and within every beat, an eternity. The steady cavalcade of time fashions change, forms identities, and constructs a dais upon which the generations stand and articulate the fountainhead of their enterprise. Nevertheless, where there is multiplicity, there is xenophobia. When the humanities of disparate nations collide, as they do and must, it is an inexorable certainty of nature that the differences become discernible in the way that citizens interact. Do they mistrust? Do they dislike? Do they hate? Do they war? The soil has seen the blood of all these reasons, and yet it remains quiet and does not rebel against the rebellion upon its surface. Understand creation, understand ruination, and understand all the grays between. Become a facet of all yet remain a part of none, and in that understanding will come the meaning of the self. Strive after this, and tread carefully across the thin precipice of forbearance.'

He'd never seen a true mage at work, especially not one with any great amount of power and immediately became nervous. If she were angry about Andyr's commentary as he was, what could she accomplish? He swallowed his pride at that and instead started rapidly trying to figure out how to diffuse the situation, for the sake of not having the barn burned down more than anything else. "Treating women like they're people doesn't make a man any less manly or virile or whatever it is that you've got in your head. Being decent doesn't make you weak. I understand that it's part of your theology, but it doesn't have to be that way. I'm sure you could crush heads just as effectively as normal if you called her by her proper name instead of being demeaning about it." He stood his ground and spoke with confidence, something he didn't normally do, but was determined to not give up without some resistance in this matter at the very least.

Andyr sighed and stood, feeling the heat at his back he turned. He saw her anger and he shook his head. "The reason I do not interact with women, and the reason I call her Woman is right in front of you. You see what she does? You see this irrational anger? How many other men here treat her worse? All I do is call her Woman and ignore her. All I ask is that she heal. I leave her be, and yet I am the one she is suddenly angry with. Women are the source of much eh... fighting in men-- that is not the right word-- to properly be a Man, you have to eh... break from Woman. You have to exist by yourself, think for yourself, do for yourself. A Man is not a Woman. A Woman is not a Man. You cannot help her more than she can help herself and the other way 'round" he said and grabbed Vann by his hair, tugged his head back and looked down on him. "If she burns down the stable. I'll kill her" he whispered, and let him go.

He stalked off, a little pissed off, but aimed to calm the horses. He would be ready to open the stalls and let the poor creatures out if the woman could not contain her irrational fury.

Vespira's anger cut off so suddenly she felt dizzy. She blinked, looking a little confused. Honestly, there were two reasons for that though. One problem was her magic was acting almost on its own, and the second was because she realized that she was wrong. The two of them were nothing like the other males she'd met. Sure, they were using her magic, like most would if they knew about it completely, but it was more of a choice for her to do it or not. She probably just ruined that with her display. Wonderful. She truly did belong locked in her room all day. Why did she ever want to be out of it. It was safe and comfortable, and while it wasn't anything like home with the colt was, it was better she was there.

Ves sighed and looked at the ground for a second or two. She let the air turn calm and relaxing, so the horses would stop freaking out over what she did and felt the sting of tears in her eyes. "I'm sorry, you're nothing like them," she said in a whisper. With that, she rushed towards the closest door, not going to let either of the,m stop her if she tried, which she knew they wouldn't, and knew neither would follow her. If they tried to get closer to her, she'd block them with wind, or try to. So once she'd be outside she wasn't entirely where to go, except perhaps that one place that was always quiet. Which was actually pretty close. But still, she didn't want to stray that far, so instead she walked around to back of the stable and sat a few inches off the ground. She let the tears fall down her face, but she didn't cry. She'd learned not to.

He couldn't help but to grimace when Andyr yanked at his hair, but he didn't flinch away, knowing that showing weakness to the barbarian would only support his theory that interacting with women mad a man weak. But he didn't take Andyr's parting words for any less than true and after he'd been released rubbed his head and turned to Vesperia immediately to try and get her to calm down, only to find that she was no longer the source of an impending inferno, but had made a complete turn around with her magic an mood. She was hurriedly walking past him when he tried to ask her to wait but didn't and was out the door a second later. For a second he simply stared after her, then heaved a large sigh and rammed his fingers through his hair in a brief bought of frustration before shaking out his hands and turning to the horses to make sure they were alright. Miraculously, they were fine and calm again, which was a nice change.

Taking another deep breath, he looked around to find Andyr, not hard given the man's size and the limited space of the barn and did his best to mentally calm his own nerves. The man was angry with him. And last time he'd gotten angry, it had ended in cracked ribs. However, he would be a coward if he didn't at least try to resolve this, or if not a coward then a blasphemer to his creed. "You're right in that she didn't have a cause to get so flustered like that." He said, walking nearer to Andyr and placing his hand on the long nose of one of the horses, the creature lipping him for food. "You've given her more than a fair chance, myself as well, and I'm sure she's grateful for it. But… won't you explain why it's such a bad thing to simply call her by her name? If I'm to be your uh… son… then I should understand, right?"

He ignored Little Blond's presence right up until the end of what he was saying. He put down the hammer and the nails (surely the plank was grateful) and turned, sat down and gestured for Little Blond to do the same. "You are my jakthund, that is true. The King himself said I could take you and make a Man out of you" he said and dusted his thighs off. "Let me explain, I don't have many words, so try and understand. She has not come to me and said, Andyr, my name is... It is not custom for a Man to notice a Woman and ask her name. To do so would be to lower yourself to her, and that cannot be done. A Woman must come to the Man and give her name, because that means she wants the Man to know it. The Man should not need or desire to know it. Last thing. I can ask her for healing, but she is not mine to command. She can refuse. In that a Woman is her own person, but never higher than Man, understand?" he asked.

Ves stared into the ground, wondering to herself if maybe it would be smarter to leave here. But where was she supposed to go? Not like anyone would really notice if she was gone. No one here gave more than a passing glance to her. No one thought anything of her, and no one cared who she was. All they knew was she was a women and that meant a toy to be played with, and forced to work. Mostly played with it seemed. She'd always hated people for that. And yet, here she was working for more people like the ones she'd grown up with. She hated herself for that. King Zartear had been kind to her though. He'd freed her, if not directly. Still, she owed him for that. But maybe she'd be better off by herself.

Ves ran her hand across her face to push the tears away. "You're weak," she told herself softly. "You're acting like when those men had you again." She swallowed back any more tears that wanted to spring to life and looked around her. She knew where she was, and she knew she was out of sight from anyone, but she still wanted to see if anything was around. When she was satisfied that she was as close to alone as she could be, she shut her eyes to think. She needed to figure out something to do. She'd have to go apologies and take whatever punishment her actions would cause, but she also felt a little fear in doing that. The barbarian scared her. The one called Vann didn't scare her as much, but she guess he'd probably hate her by now, so what did it matter? She knew she'd still have to go back. She said she'd heal them, and she meant that. No one else would be able to do it as well as she could, despite she knew it wasn't a good thing, she had a bit of a crush on Vann. She'd ruined that, but her emotions didn't change.

"I understand." He replied immediately, then clenched his jaw shut to keep from saying anything further without some considerable thought. Andyr was kind in his own way, he supposed, giving Vesperia free reign to do what she wanted even so far as to deny them help if the whimsy took her. It was certainly more freedom than what was allotted to other women of the majority of the Cove's residents who expected women to be silent and utterly obedient, or else. In that, he held some respect for Andyr's culture, but the one right didn't necessarily make up for the rest of his theology. And even as he thought it he realized that it would probably be nigh impossible to change the man's mind. Did that mean he wasn't going to try? No. But at least understanding the man's policies gave him a starting point to figuring out how to get around this obstacle. He took a breath and started against hesitantly. "I understand. It's not… what I was taught, but I understand. I'm... going to get back to boarding." All too well…

'Fickleness creates anguish and in the clash a body regresses to its core. in struggling against the weight of change, do not forget that the self is the only refuge in which solidarity can be preserved.'

Andyr nodded, expecting no less from Little Blond. He understood that culture here was not the same as back home. There were words in this language that he did not know the meaning of, simply because the words did not exist in his own. People with different words thought differently. Marriage was one word he'd learned pretty early on. It wasn't the same as his tribe, where a woman could prefer a man, but it wasn't a permanent deal. Her preference could change and there was naught else a man could really do about it. Women in his tribe liked to be stolen, though, and often flirted when not working.

He rose and went to the stall where he normally slept to grab something from his pack. The horse they normally slept with was out for a walk, in her stead there was eggshell everywhere and one wet cat thing covered in straw.

"Little Blond!" he called and knelt, scooping the thing up. It whined and burrowed into him immediately. He checked his pack, and there were more pieces of eggshell inside it.

"My egg hatched. What is this?" he asked, rising, curious and excited.

He had just picked up a hammer, wondering when the best time would be to run out and grab Vesperia and see if he could talk to her and get her to open up a little bit when Andyr's call interrupted his whole thought process. Hooking the hammer in his belt loop he hurried over to where he saw the barbarian's back sticking out of a stall, initially a little concerned. "Egg? What are you talking abo-" He stopped dead when he rounded the corner, first seeing what looked like a dog-sized kitten in the big man's arms. His gaze flicked to the eggshell pieces. What in the world-?

A chick born into a tumultuous world, in a city of chaos and crime, a lattice of the wits and the vaulting point of the future. See now and contemplate hence as the chick grows to a fledgling and spreads its wings, however bound by an incertitude of selfhood. As a river courses so too does the life of a body, contoured by the happenstance that juts and clings as the rocks and trees along the bank of a rill, but as even the river is fettled, so does it whittle the elements around it. Only the vigor of the river's indefatigability will determine whether it can withstand the embankment in its path, or whether it will mourn the loss of such. Creatures of flame and frivolity were never preconceived to be harnessed as a mill does water, and so the progeny of the bones of the earth travail as the children of the soil and sky. The children upon whom is beholden to no heraldry and proudly display their namelessness as a privilege.'

He stared dumbfounded, then it all seemed to click. "Creatures of flame and frivolity… A dragon! By the gods it's a dragon!" He stared at the hatchling, then at Andyr, then back at the little thing and crouched down, looking it over but kept his space. "By the Creed man, where did you get a dragon egg?" It didn't occur to him immediately that Andyr wouldn't have known it was a dragon egg in the first place.

» C1 Racksom~~~~And then, there was War~~~~(5th Board)
» (Royal Palace of Racksom) Surahnian Tactics is an Artform (15th Board)
» (New Racksom) Legendary Tales (31st Board)
» (C1, Racksom) Surnames in Surahnia (19th Board)
» (C1, Racksom) Rising in the Ranks (10th Board)