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Who do you desire to bed now?

I will bed anyone who expresses interest. I can find beauty in all, something desirable in most. 

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Then what causes you shame?

I was shamed when I was accused of murder and driven out of my tribe, though I know now that I am not guilty of what I was accused of, I spent many months on the brink of death. 

Perhaps the knowledge that my soul would not be accepted into the mountain's embrace kept me alive.

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Does anything embarrass you?

No. 

Embarrassment seems to be a very foreign concept, there are things that would shame me, certainly. But embarrass me? I can think of nothing. 

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Have you ever been in a fist fight?

...are you seriously asking me this question? 

If a man comes after me with his fists, I will fight with my fists, if a man draws his blade, I will retaliate with mine. 

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Who is the last person you hugged?

I do not hug anyone. 

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What is your idea of perfect happiness?

Perfect happiness is not something I believe myself capable of achieving. However, I will be most happy when I know I will be laid to rest on the mountain Atlas, returned to the God who gives me strength, so my soul may remain with those of my fathers, my body laid to rest beside my own people. 

Until I am certain of this, my mind will always be troubled. 

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With whom did you lose your virginity?

I was thirteen, I forget her name, but she had crawled into my bed the night of my first kill. She stayed with me for quite some time, four years if I recall. She was good to me. 

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FMK Gifford, Caradoc, Godric

Fuck - Gifford though his talk of giants is wearisome, I would not mind.

Marry - Godric, marriage is of equal footing, Godric is best for this.

Kill - Caradoc, a most honorable kill, I would be proud to defeat him. 

Very difficult decisions. 

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Andros did have heavier clothes (winter was not foreign to the desert, and the nights could be brutally cold), furs and the like, that he draped over himself during the colder months. Not out of fear of getting sick, as he was so often warned, but because sitting about in the cold was quite uncomfortable. His fingers became stiff and it became difficult to perform the simplest tasks without having to clench and release his fists a hundred times before his fingers functioned correctly. He also took to carrying a flask of heated, spiced wine he made himself, it warmed his insides.

He wondered if Damara had warmer clothes, he knew that acquiring clothing was difficult for her. It would be no trouble acquiring enough furs and stitching them to together to create warmer things for his friend. He would ask her, if he should ever notice her teeth chattering, or her body shivering, the cold would be here soon, Andros assessed, already the winds were colder and the temperature lower, though the sun shone bright as ever.

Andros looked up as she spoke, he did not mind the interruption, for he knew Damara only spoke when she felt it was important to, or when she had questions for him. His frown deepened, he understood the first part of her question, not so much the second. "Caring for swords is mine duty, it is best to sharpen soon after, it is not wise to allow swords to be uncared for after training or battle. But-what is wear away?" 

Being Together | Andros & Damara

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Andros had come across fewer and fewer people willing to stand in his way since leaving his homeland. The people in this foreign place may regard him as a brute, uncivilized, uncultured, barbaric, but they still feared him, and most feared even coming near him, or giving him reason to pause, let alone stand in his way and defy him. However, men could be foolish, particularly those who called themselves 'Knights' Andros had noticed, those who believed themselves to be carrying the 'King's Justice' seemed to be stupider than the others, and there was a fine line between stupidity and courage. 

Andros did not think it strange to find someone watching the knights, he did not believe the others were aware of her presence, but it would not be the first time a student or a villager had paused near the training grounds to watch, and he had no cause to suspect malicious intentions, or mention his observations to any of the others. 

Andros regarded her with curiosity, why was she asking him this, sounding so surprised by his observations. While he knew it was strange for a woman to fight, he merely assumed it was a common trait of the English to fight as knights, whether it was a male or female doing the fighting. In his own culture, where female warriors were far more common, females did not fight any different than males. 

"Yes," he said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, "This is strange?" he asked, though he knew she would not fully comprehend his question. 

Andros's dim comprehension of English culture and language made him aware of the fact that there was a distinct difference between lady and woman. Though he did not know what separated one from the other, he understood that Lady was something of more importance, more respect, and thus he deemed it was a titled that required one to earn it. Damara and Elfrida he both deemed ladies, though neither seemed so willing to accept the term. "Elfrida is Lady, yet she does train. And she who tames dragons also is meant to train alongside knights." He attempted to mirror her own terminology. "Gryffindor shall accept, he will make it easier," Andros spoke confidently of his friend's tolerance. 

Somewhere in the Midlands || Qwara and Andros || Week 34

Qwara slowed down just as he did, keeping pace with him as she looked over her shoulder at the distance they had just traveled. It would seem unlikely that anyone would be coming their way. But there was always that small chance that things wouldn’t go their way. Qwara was no stranger to any obstacles in her way to get to where she wish to go. No man should be either, especially knights (though this man was anything but).

Her eyes went to the man curiously looking at him as he spoke of those few knights that trained near the school grounds. Yes, she had seen them plenty of times before practicing with one another, but this man was always off on his own. She had seen him once or twice during her trips but hadn’t gotten the idea that she too was being watched from a distance by the man. So he knew her secret. It wasn’t as if it was dangerous for others to know, as Qwara watched her father and other knights train as well. 

“Do you believe I do?” Fighting like a knight and simply fighting with nothing but pure emotion were two different thing. Qwara had learned much from her father but the man never truly taught her how to be a knight as she was forbidden to learn. Her father never wanted to put her in danger but taught her enough to defend herself. Though she had went against his wishes and fought in secret in the Tourney held in London many weeks ago. She had come in second, but it was more than enough to prove to herself that she was good as many other men. Cliodna had spoken with honest words that she was and in his own way, this man said she fought as one too.

A faint sigh escaped her lips though as the question to why she didn’t train with them came about. “I am a lady. A lady is not meant to train with knights and fight along side them. No matter how noble her heart is.” Though she was not a lady by birth but because of her father’s name and knighthood, Qwara always acted like one to those who wished for her to. Of course, there were those she rather act herself near, such as Savaric, Cliodna and the Duke Bernard. It was unfortunate she had to act proper and tend to everyone’s needs more often than she thought she would have to since her father had passed.

“If I could find one to train me in private or find those who accept a woman to train with, things would be easier.”

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Had Andros failed to find Damara sitting in her usual place, he would have gone searching for her in the castle, perhaps visiting the kitchens where they often shared extra meals during his days at Hogwarts, if there was one thing he shared in common with the young woman, it was size and appetite. Or perhaps he would search the library, mayhaps Damara had finished a book, though he had not known her to be without a spare, and gone in search of another. In any case, Andros would surely seek her out, for he enjoyed the company of his friend. 

That was what Damara was, a friend, for he was certain of it now. There was a simple joy in merely enjoying another's presence without the concern of fumbling for words. His friend enjoyed silence just as much as he did, though Andros knew it was for other reasons he did not understand. Surely it was not that she worried her eloquence would fail her, as she read so much and so often, Andros was certain she could craft words beautifully if she wished. Andros, however, felt compelled to speak on occasion, he would ask what she was reading, perhaps comment on it, said his goodbyes when it was his turn to leave. He did not often allow their meetings to go without a single word unspoken. 

Andros nodded in answer to her small smile, as he settled beside her and drew his swords and whetstone. 

Being Together | Andros & Damara

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Being Together | Andros & Damara

Andros sat under a large tree, blades lying on the ground beside him, another in his hands. He had decided to train with the knights today, he knew that he would enjoy speaking with little Elfrida, and the Lady Damara afterward, as he was certain to find her reading in the courtyard. His body glistened with sweat, and his long hair hung damp around his face, veiling the concentrated frown that always came upon his face when he sat to sharpen his swords. 

It was custom now that he did not live at the castle anymore, that whenever he decided to train with the knights, afterward he would seek out Damara and they would sit side by side, Damara would read her books and Andros would sharpen his blades, barely blunted from only a few hours of practice, yet he was diligent all the same. It was important that a warrior connected with the weapons they carried, a weapon must be an extension of one's self, and Andros cared for his weapons as one might care for their children. 

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Walt Whitman, “A Glimpse”

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Andros would not have usually left the men lying above ground, dead bodies exposed to whoever may stumble across them. No, he would have buried them if he could, and whispered an offering to the God he was so distanced from. All men must return to the earth, one could only hope Atlas would accept them. But these foreigners did not think as he did, they would condemn him for the simple act of defending someone in need. Five against one was an uneven match and he had no idea if the woman could even defend herself. Andros could force himself to adapt in this situation. 

The woman could, he discovered, defend herself. She moved well, swift and agile and powerful, and had it been only one or two who attacked her, or had she been armed, he was certain he would not have decided to involve himself. He knew enough of the English to know that a woman trained in battle was unusual, treated with scorn by other women and looked down on by men. He wondered if this woman, who's name he could not recall (nor could he recall if she had ever shared ever shared it with him), was forced to masquerade a boy as Elfrida had. 

He would not ask, however, how it was she came to learn the skills needed to defend herself. It was plain to him that they were meant for just that, defense. It was structured and disciplined, and never dealt more damage than was absolutely necessary. These were common traits that set knights apart, Andros was not so blind to have not noticed this. 

They rode in silence for a while, moving at a brisk pace but never quite breaking into a gallop. He took her speaking to indicate that it was time to slow the horse down, and he leaned forward, stroking a hand down the animal's warm neck. "Knights are mine friends. One of them, I am not," he agreed, turning to regard her, the only change in his expression a slight narrowing of his eyes. 

Yes, he had seen her before, not at the tavern, but watching the knights train, always standing on the edges of the training grounds. Perhaps the others could not see her, but Andros trained alone, closer to the trees, and had seen her on many occasions. "You fight as knights, why do you not train?" His tone was not accusatory, his tone was not much of anything really, except for slightly curious.  

Somewhere in the Midlands || Qwara and Andros || Week 34

Qwara eyed the man who had come at her first. She knew just what they wanted, what they were after. For a woman it was always to two things and normally both were just as valuable. It was times like these that she thanked her father and childhood friend in teaching her how to use a sword properly. Though it was also times like these that she cursed them for not giving one to her. Even if she did not have a sword, it did not mean the woman was defensless against the attackers. She would find her way around them with what little she had. Qwara was more than what she appear to be, she was taught to be a fighter.

Once more she attacked the same man, a kick to his stomach with enough force to make him bend in pain. Qwara didn’t think twice before she turned and used the same leg to put force against the back of his neck and let him fall to the ground in pain. Her eyes quickly went to the next that came at her with his sword in hand, the woman barely dodging as she jumped back and let her hair cover her vision briefly, the tip of the sword the only thing that came to her line of sight. When Qwara was able to find herself once more, she found that her troubles were over.

But by the time she had the chance to go for another offensive attack, another, larger, man had made his way onto the scene. Qwara didn’t get the chance to look at him first, believing that if he was with them, it would be harder than she thought. But instantly, the man took charge at the other men, clearing her of any danger. Raising her brow, she watched as the dark hair and foreign face came into view. She knew him. She had seen him a few times before at The Three Broomsticks and around the village. What was his name? 

Qwara blinked a few times to notice that he had said a few words and looked down at the men that had now lost their lives over a foolish quest to get something they were never going to. Taking a deep breath, Qwara took notice of how they lay in their own blood, giving a mental prayer to those who may walk past and be horrified. Though this was not the way she had planned it all to go, it was better that she was still living. Without another word, the woman took the reins of her horse, pulling herself together with her things and followed behind the foreign looking man. It was not until they were further out and out of curious eyes that she bothered to look at him again with words. 

“You fight like a warrior, not a knight. But I have seen you train with a few of them.”

Qwara was certain that it was him along with a few others that she had caught glimpse off once. Though she was hiding in secret and watching, Qwara knew that they were knights from the way they fought. But this man, he was always off in his own. His movements weren’t like the others, weren’t like the many she watched and studied.