#Muse: [Zhav]

[umbralsound-xiv]

Prompt #11 - Surrogate

Character: Zhav

Age: 44

Location: The Black Shroud, Present Day

Warnings: None

She was awake far earlier than she'd usually found herself to be, but that didn't mean Zhav would allow that time to go to waste. The light still spilled from the upper branches of the canopy causing her to narrow her single eye upwards, glancing back down to the task at hand.

An array of weapons laid before her. Daggers, axes, a polearm and more laid in a neat row, all newly tended. Others newly forged weapons themselves, either by her hand or that of her apprentice, Zihre.

It was no secret to herself nor any other the affection she held for her. One could have mistaken Zihre to be her daughter, though the reality was a far sadder affair, for the both of them.

No one could ever replace the child she'd lost, that fateful sun. Yehn's life was cut far shorter than it should have been even for a Warmaiden in the making. Though, that hadn't stopped Zhav from lending her motherly instincts to anyone who saught her.

It was difficult not to see Zihre as a daughter, even if she was not born a Karahli, she was as much of one as any other, now.

And if the girl would see Zhav as a mother...

Who would she be, to correct them?

[umbralsound-xiv]

Prompt #12 - Dowdy

Character: Zhav Gridania, Present Day

She didn't care. Not in the negative way, where a lack of care to all things was given, or indifference to whatever matter had crossed her, no. Zhav's lack of care manifested in many ways, physical and otherwise; and only those who did not know her saught to judge her.

In the way her hair grew out, bedraggled and the colour of a particularly rich grape, combed through only with her fingers, and currently adorned with a small blue bow one of the children had plaited and tied into it on her blind side. She pretended not to notice, to be heralded with grins and laughter from her people and otherwise, keeping it for the joy it gave them. Cut haphazardly with a knife when it got too long to keep from her face, there was never any real neatness to it.

Not a lick of makeup adorns her face. Zhav wouldn't have too much idea what to do with it anyway. Instead, thick black facepaint adorns her features in long, wide swathes reminiscent of a bearclaw, sticking to skin even after the most rigorous bathing regimes. It was possible to remove it, of course. But Zhav had worn hers for so long in the same place that it had stained the skin beneath.

Muscle and marred flesh long burned and healed bulges beneath well worn leather, repaired and replaced for cycles. No frills, no unneccesary adornments. Zhav liked her clothes simple, and although she adored them, she never got too attatched.

She caught many eyes travelling through the markets of Gridania, though it wasn't often she went, most of the time making her own things, gathering her own spices. Whispers of the fearsome looking woman with a battleaxe, and too-sharp teeth wrapped in scars and leather and facepaint was enough to send anyone running.

But Zhav only asked for flowers, in her usual rowdy accent. A smile through black lips coloured with facepaint; she would make cookies with them, and press the blooms into the pastry for effect.

She didn't care. What they said about her, or what they thought of the dowdy looking woman who so rarely frequented these stalls. She didn't care at all.

She saved that care for the things that mattered most to her.

[umbralsound-xiv]

Prompt #5 - Barbarous

Characters: Zhav and Mhira Deep in The Black Shroud, 1571, Sixth Astral Era

"---Slowly creepin' through th'trees, on nights so dark y'can't even see th'moon..."

It was a comical gesture for any onlooker that wasn't a small child. The Warmaiden of Clan Karahli strode with long, gangly steps through the middle of the gathering, illuminated by a campfire as a small circle of children peered between eachother's shoulders to see her.

"...She can slip into th'shadows, s'quiet as an owl..."

A small voice pipes up from the crowd. "Auntie Zhav!" A wide pair of teal eyes peeps up to meet her. "She can't really fly, can she?"

"---No, Mhira, she can't. ---Quiet as an owl..."

"...Owls aren't that quiet..."

"---They are when they're flyin'!" Zhav waves her hands, in order to dismiss any further questions. "Anyway, she's real quiet! So quiet, even th'best Keeper's ears couldn' hear her..."

The silence is beckoned again as the many wide-eyes that watched her drank in the tale, cuddled together for protection from the monster Zhav described.

"Lon', dark hair will tangle y'up if you get too close! Big claws to rip you to pieces!" Zhav, of course, gestured as needed to emphasise her point, clawing her fingers to make a frightful shadow in the light of the fire.

"Faster than th'fastest antelope! She runs through th'trees!"

Zhav leaps over the crowd into the nearby shrubbery, which hid her from sight.

"An' then... When you're not looking..."

Silence hangs. The gentle crackling of the fire hides much of Zhav's movements, a twig snapping, a stone rolling. Zhav was never this stealthy when hunting, but telling a child's story was a different matter altogether.

"SHE COMES TO GET YOU! THE MIDNIGHT COEURL!"

Zhav bursts from the brush in front of her audience, a cacophany of shrill shrieks that quickly peter out into laughter as they disperse in every direction, some running to parents, others hiding behind shrubs, tree trunks, tents. Zhav makes a beeline for a fleeing child, which she scoops up beneath around her waist, throwing her into the air before she catches her with both hands.

"Mom, no!" The girl squeals, squirming as Zhav tickles her, quickly subsiding to set her along her hip. "Don' let her get me!"

"I won', Yehn." Zhav grins, ruffling her hair as she turned back to her scattered audience. "So you all be good now, an' she won't come, y'hear?"

Wide eyes and oversized ears slip away to their parents, to their tasks with nothing but the best behaviour on their minds, and Zhav flashes a toothy grin.

"...Y'tell good stories, Mom..." Yehn clambers up Zhav's side, boot digging into her hip to sit on her shoulders, and the Warmaiden simply laughs.

"Aye. I know."

[umbralsound-xiv]

A Hint Of Regret.

[Bexy] I'd asked Zhav to meet me here, and for White to join us not all that long after. I was wounded, sure enough but... Nothing to be worried about.

The dying light of the sun poured through the trees of the Shroud, the lights in nearby Buscarron's slowly flickering to life as the evening began to set in. A little ways from the gate; far enough not to be noticed properly unless someone was looking, but close enough still to be found, a pair of Miqo'te seemed to be conversing about… Something.

"---An' y'sure she's comin', aye? Kinda excited! Ain' never get t'meet y'friends, save f'the ones at the company. Ain' know you had any outside've it!" A Keeper who was more scar than skin in places offers a wide, toothy grin to Bexy through the adorning facepaint. Rough-cut plum hair hung in shaggy locks around her features, her single eye settled on the woman beside her. A waraxe at her back, attire comprised of steel and leather, Zhav cut an imposing figure, if it wasn't for the lack of menace in the grin.

[Zhav] Ain' often Bexy asks me for much've any kind've favor save f'watchin' her house. Like it's gon' get legs an' start movin'. I get it though, she likes 'er privacy. But meetin' someone out've th'company sounds excitin'!

Though, that might as well have been irrelavant for the Seeker beside her. Bexy heaves a quiet, impatient sigh. She was dressed in what many would have recognised her in; tall leather boots, a coat that left not all too much to the imagination, and the gloves she was so rarely seen without. "We're associates, not friends. And i have -plenty- of friends." Bexy protested, head inclining a little. Hair freshly washed, it didn't hide the fresh wound at her forehead; though healed, she'd neglected to bandage it as to not draw any attention.

White took her sweet time making her way to the meeting spot, but not too much. Enough to make Bexy and company question whether or not she'd show. Of course she would! She was annoying, not stupid. A little irritation, she wondered if it'd show on the icy woman's face as she approached the two with a small skip in her step. "What happened?" she asked, eyeing Bexy from under her hood, that curious gaze darted briefly over at the other one, the rough one, giving her a once-over all in one quick motion before it returned to Bexy. Her head.

The hood had been draped over her head, covering up a beret that kept her pig-tailed hair trapped underneath. She wasn't wearing her ears today. Her head felt too light, then even more when she pulled the hood down. "You look like shite." A chuckle came out between a teasing grin. "You could cover that up with a little touch-up. You have the stuff for it. I can see it, icepick. Or. You can let the en-ti-re-ty of everyone know someone got a hit on you. Maybe it will give them hope." she rambled on. Until the arch of her gaze landed back onto the Keeper. "Enough about that!" Step, step, stepping on over— "Who— oh who do we have here?" She rolled her arm trice over, to her stomach as she dipped into a bow, looking up. "Hello~"

Bexy takes in a deep breath as though she were to protest, to answer White's question, before Zhav quickly interjects.

"'m Zhav, Warmaiden've th'Karahli!" The Keeper chirps, flashing pointed teeth. No elaborate bow returned, she simply raises a gloved hand in a half wave. "I'm, uh…" She glances to the Seeker, unsure exactly how much the Raen had been told. "Helpin' Bexy." A pause, then. "…'s y'name really Rabbit?"

A thin lipped smile is given to White, and then to Zhav shortly after, sighing quietly though her nose. Her eyes lid, almost maliciously, though she doesn't follow up on it with any kind of movement. "It's dark, and we'll be going no place where there's people. Come on."

Immediately, she begins to lead away from the path, into the less travelled bits of the Shroud; not so far away from civilization, at least for the time being. It was clear Bexy didn't want to be noticed.

A playful gasp loudly filled her lungs, sending her standing up. "A warmaiden! Well. Wellwellwellwell! You have interestin' company, icepick." Like she were one to talk. At the newly met Zhav's question, her grin pulled a little wider, rounding her cheeks up, giving the woman an amused squint. "It is! Rabbit. White Rabbit. Most folks call me White. The fancy ones like to add miss to the front of it. Are you the fancy kind to?" She'd wager a bet that no, she wasn't.

Turning her head toward Bexy's little speak-up, started to follow with a bit of a bounce to her step. "We're people. Aren't we?" She glanced back, checking to see where Zhav was.

Zhav trailed along after White, seemingly quite at home in the Shroud, though that was somewhat expected as a Keeper. She beams with pride as White echoes her title back to her, though an animated shake of her head is offered in tone. "Nah. Unless y'want me to. S'nice t'meetcha, White." Her single eye lids as she throws a glance to Bexy, who made headway through the wood without so much a pause. "She thinks 'm Interestin'."

"Suppose." The single word from Bexy was sharp enough, her impatience more than visible. Quietly cursing to herself how much of a mistake this might be. "You're both people not stupid enough to try and pick a fight with me. It's a flesh wound. I've had worse." A pause, then. "Nothing compared to what happened to them. Even if he regains consciousness he won't be going far."

White slowed, just enough to keep by Zhav's side. She shook her head at the comment, making one back, confirming, "You are interestin'. Pretty interestin'."

[Bexy] I can already see this is going to be a mistake. Ugh, why didn't i just carry her myself? ...Gods, no. She'd never let me live it down.

Her head swung forward, smirking at the back of Bexy's head or her face if she was looking at them. "Did you hit him too hard? Oh no. Oh dear!" she dramatically cried. "How are you goin' to get him talkin' if he doesn't wake up? Icepick~" she cooed. "You really need to work on that temper. It's goin' to mess up all your plans." The smirk evened out into more of a smile, a knowing kind.

Almost as reflex, Zhav's gloved hand raises to delicately tap her chest, offering a grin. "I know! Pretty an' interestin'." It's hard to tell if she's actually being serious, but at least she's having fun. "Aw, give 'er a break, White. She's had a rough sun, commanderin' an' what have you."

"He's alive." Came Bexy's retort. "And it wasn't me who knocked him unconscious. He has a broken leg. He wasn't hit anywhere fatal." She strides over a root half her height, dropping down the other side. She doesn't wait.

Zhav, however, offers a hand in aiding White up, at the very least.

A bubbly laugh easily escaped her, filling everyone's ears. "You are! It's true!" She even chuckled her defending poor Bexy. "One sun she'll take a break. A little vacation. If she know what that is." There was a quick wonder on how she'd act during one. Could the woman really, honestly relax. She wanted to see.

Reaching out she took Zhav's hand, she wasn't about to dismiss the free help. The roots were huge! "So there was a pair. Of you. Gettin' him. He must have put up a fight." Her verbal darts were casually thrown to see where they'd land. If the woman would move them to their correct target.

"She does! We've been on vacation together! We went to Kugane, an' ate all kinds've things, and i saw that weird ol' tower, an' sand! Awful stuff, ain' sure if i like it." Zhav would absolutely have continued waffling on had Bexy not interrupted her.

"There were six in total, including him." Bexy continued their headway through the trees. The dim lights of Buscarrons had begun to fade the further they ventured, and though occasional other landmarks were visible through the trees, the path seemed to grow less travelled with every footfall. "I took three with me from the company." Bexy seemed to be withholding information on purpose, with how she spoke.

"---But i would've helped if you'd've jus' asked." Zhav rolls her eye, though sighs quietly. She knew why she couldn't, but that didn't stop her wanting to.

[Zhav] I mean, i get why, but let a girl have some fun once in a while, aye? I know it's kinda delicate situation wise, an' th'wrong folk seen could cause all kinds've bother.

White listened to every word she was given, both Zhav's then Bexy's. She heard about the tower before, how some strange folks liked to climb it? And others thought she was crazy, at least she didn't climb towers! Only onto building roofs. But the way it was described, how it was painted— "Only three? Against six. Five around him."

Her head turned towards the complainer. "She didn't." It was more of a comment than question. She wasn't going to tell them not to answer, they could do. If they wanted to.

"Three. Too many and we would have been more easily noticed. But, thanks to the little gift you gave him…" For the first time since their meeting, there's a smile in Bexy's words. "I knew who he was travelling with. How many. Where they were going and what time. We had an excellent vantage point." Exhaling a short, sharp huff, Bexy turns her head to glance over her shoulder. "He tried to run away. As expected."

"Pff. Coward." Zhav retorts. "S'a bit unfair, six against you an' change, yeah? They ain' stand a chance." A comical brow was lofted, as Zhav's tail swung with each step. It's enough to bring Bexy's attention to her for the moment for the praise, however sincere or otherwise it might have been.

Those painted lips curl into a smile to Zhav, a little wicked, but happier for the comment. "They weren't supposed to."

White spoke up, pushing her proud-like words between Bexy's little praise, if it wasn't too bad she was going to take it as it anyways. "It was a good gift!" She thought so. "A great one!" Sounded like it did exactly what she wanted— getting Bexy the information she needed. That was good news for her.

Peering a smirky, amused narrow gaze at Zhav, she joined in, "She is strong." Oh no, there's two of them.

"It was." Bexy's praise was genuine; she spares White a glance over her shoulder as she meanders through the trees, the setting sun and the thickening boughs beginning to blot the light.

"Oh aye? What'd you get her?" Zhav asks, somewhat oblivious as to the finer details of their deal. "An' aye…" Zhav sighs; it's a wistful thing. "She is. Strong an' stubborn. Ain' sure which she's got more've."

Another glance from Bexy is given in Zhav's direction.

[Bexy] Oh, for the love of the Twelve. Not you too, Zhav.

"S'a good thing!"

Don't let her know that— too late. It went right to her head, bringing a great big grin to her face. Who needed the sun with how bright it was?

Looking from Zhav, to Bexy, then back again she hadn't see any protest. "A linkpearl." She let that bit settle a moment before adding the details. "A one way kind. Isn't that neat?"

Once again a chuckle escaped her and Bexy was gifted yet another smirk. "I think its stubbornness."

"Oh huh. Neat." Zhav agrees, "Ain' really used 'em much m'self, but i can see how that'd work in your favor." A pause then, as she continued to stroll on. "How'd you two meet, anyhow?"

A question Bexy clearly had no interest in answering. She simply climbed over trees, over each knurl of roots and dipped beneath each low hanging branch. No lights in any direction of any spoken hand, just the darkness of the Shroud, and the buzz of wildlife. It's only then that Bexy stops to face them.

The smirk might have softened if that question didn't get asked, but it did, so it stayed. As a matter of fact it grew, then parted to answer in some kind of way, but the way Bexy faced them made her stop and ask a question of her own, "What?"

"We're far enough now." Came Bexy's remark, as she turned on her heel and just about marched back up to them. A length of black cloth was retrieved from a pocket, but at the very least she isn't brandishing it like a weapon.

Zhav refrains from opposing her, eyeing White.

"I'm going to blindfold you, and Zhav is going to carry you the rest of the way. Non negotiable." That icy gaze is level with White's own. Bexy didn't leave room for questions, but White could likely make space for them regardless.

White's gaze dropped to the cloth. Before anyone uttered an explanation she had an idea what it was for.

Slowly said smile-squinted gaze flitted up, meeting Bexy's. "Normally. I'm the one blindfoldin' others." That wasn't a protest, giving her a simple, "Okay." paired with a little wink for Zhav. "Are you goin' to be my knight? Carryin' me around?"

She stood there, making it so Bexy would have to approach, she wasn't going to do the work for her. A question did pop into her head, several of them. She used the waiting time to ask, "Do you think I'll tell someone? Where it is." She took one last glance around before her vision would go dark for who knows how long. Bexy would.

The gap is closed between them, and the blindfold is tied firmly around White's head, completely obscuring her vision. "Better to remove that information from you completely. The deal was that you would watch his interrogation. Nothing more than that." Though it was tight, Bexy had at least used a comfortable material. Satisfied with her handiwork, she looks to Zhav.

[Bexy] I don't trust her. She knows i don't. I know i don't. I trust her enough to handle some business but not to know where i live. Gods, that information could destroy me and all i hold dear, not to mention risk the Karahli. I won't deny she's useful, though.

…Who looks to White. "…Aye, somethin' like that. So! Piggyback? Bridal carry? Y'got options!" Zhav cheers, in an attempt to lighten the mood. "Ain' many folk lucky 'nough to get blindfolded by Bexy…"

She'd leave it there if it wasn't for the sideglance Bexy now threw at her.

"…An' live t'tell th'tale!"

[Bexy] I should have gagged her too. Both of them, at this rate.

White watched the woman the entire time even after the blindfold did what it was made to do— blind her. "You might need it. To stay in my pretty head." her words jousted back, a reminder of how much her knowing things can help. Case in point: the capturing of errand boy.

"Bridal!" That was quick. An easy pick. She could wrap her arms around the woman's neck when picked up. "Lucky for me—" she placed splayed fingers to the flat of her chest, grinning under the blindfold. "I'm lucky."

"Perhaps. But i haven't made my mind up about this particular piece of information. Yet." Backing off, she allows Zhav to do as she intended.

"Scuse me." Zhav murmurs, before scooping White up into her arms; Bridal style, as agreed. It didn't seem to cause Zhav any great strain to lift her, but the gesture was at least done with care. "Mind th'axe. Y'comfy?" She asks, waiting for confirmation before setting off anew.

White was going to keep it regardless, Bexy should assume this by now. But moving on from that…

She did as she intended to do, wrapping her arms around Zhav's neck, minding the axe she warned her about. With a nod, she smiled. "I am!" A pause followed, then another question, "Do you think. I can count steps?"

"I think you're smart enough to if you really wanted to." Bexy remarks, moving onwards into the thick of the Shroud. She moves a little faster now, the route more practiced, no matter how wild the underbrush grew.

As a mercy for White, it may as well have been a paved road for Zhav. The Keeper makes short work of any undergrowth, knowing just how to step or shift to avoid any mishaps, and keeps White steady regardless. The slope of Zhav's neck was a strange texture; hair turned to smooth skin, which then grew mottled along one side; a small twitch of Zhav's form as it was touched, but not enough to pull a complaint from her.

White rested her horn against Zhav, staring right at Bexy from behind the blindfold. "I'm flattered. Really. Truly, I am! For you to think that." The woman might be right, if she tried extra hard she could get an idea of how many steps it took. But this was the Shroud and she was a city lady.

If the topic was counting time, that would be a different story. Two could be read at the same time. "Do you have him in your basement? Does it even have one? Or a closet. How long has he been there?" she started up again, playing a million-n-one questions.

"White. I'm a woman of many enemies, you know that." Bexy's tone was almost chiding, if it didn't hold such malice; White could be thankful it wasn't directed at her. "I have a place to put them that isn't the ground, when they might have things to tell me. A cell of sorts. You'll see it soon enough." To her latter question, a small note of humor leaves her. "Since earlier this sun. I'm not one to dally if i can help it."

Zhav plods on behind her, occasionally taking a larger step over various treestumps. "Poor fucker." Zhav remarks, shaking her head. "Y'gonna kill him when you're done, or…?"

[Zhav] Ain' say i envy th'bastard. Don't much like th'idea've kidnappin', but... Eh. Needs must, an' all that. I seen some've th'stuff she's done. Death'd be a mercy.

Like a child hearing the same ol' reminder for the hundred time she rolled her eyes. Not that Bexy could see it. but her tone could give it away. "Yes! The woman of a million enemies! How's that for a title? Do you like it better or worse than icepick?" She didn't. Icepick came off her tongue sharp, like a stab. Right in ears. Plus it sounded cool.

Looking— er tilting her head up at Zhav she listened. Waited. She wanted to hear what plans Bexy had for the man.

"Most of my enemies are dead, White." Bexy's words were an effort to silence White, or at least quiet her for a moment, however futile that might have been. "Zhav will tell you all about that."

Zhav blinks at the words. Would she? She flicks a glance to White, and half-forgets the woman is in fact blindfolded and can't see. "…I mean, she's killed a bunch've people. I could've been one've 'em, if things'd've gone any different. 'Sides, Bexy! You ain' answer my question."

"No. I'm not going to kill him." Bexy deigns to answer then, dipping beneath a branch. "He'll likely wish i would, by the end of it. But that little pleasure i'm leaving for Sayuri." Another glance sneaks over her shoulder, wicked smirk on painted lips. "I wouldn't want to deprive her of revenge."

"Most, but not all. Of them." she corrected like the little brat she was, even if she was right. Which she was. "She will?" Listening to the not-really-telling-her-anything a brow lifted the other following so quickly it looked more like they went up at the same time. "Really? You could have? How? What did you do? What did she do?"

White wanted to hear the answer too, turning her head slightly in Bexy's direction, carefully so she wouldn't stab Zhav with either of her horns. "She'll kill him." There was a thoughtful pause. "What a waste." She'd leave it at that, a little crumb that she boldly assumed one of them would bite at.

"Aye! Well yeah, Bexy an' i go way back" Zhav began; with seeming permission. "She an' Clan Karahli were enemies once, aye? Back when she were---" Zhav's words clip off, and that single eye darts forwards towards the Seeker. But Bexy doesn't turn around to chide her. Still, better to be careful. "Back when she weren' as nice as she is now. Y'hear things, see things. We 'ad a deal wit' some Duskwight woman t'hunt 'er down, but shite happened an' it fell through. We… Were maybe not in th'best place after that." Zhav's voice, only for a moment, seems a little flatter, but it soon picks up. "Our Matriarch-- M'niece -- Had th'bright idea of askin' Bexy t'help, which she gladly accepted. Now it's a kind've… We watch 'er back, an' she watches ours kinda deal. It works out!" This clearly abridged version what what Zhav offered, for now; either unwilling or unable to elaborate on certain details without repercussions.

Bexy had hoped Zhav would leave enough loose ends for White to ask about, but for a change, Bexy had one of her own. Far too worn by the events of the sun passed, and the thought of those yet to come had dulled an edge or too when it came to biting back, but one thing at least drew her attention. "…A waste. What makes you think that, White?" A pause. "Even if i've pried everything i can from him?"

At the start of Zhav's educational little story White's head— her horn softly fell against her, tilting said head up to let the story teller know she was listening. She even kept her mouth shut. It made the note taking easier, even if it was just a tiny bit.

Her gaze under the cloth lazily slid over to Bexy's direction. "That's when someone else pries more out." She paused too. "Besides." Her shoulders lifted into an awkward shrug. "Don't you know? The dead can't talk. It's a double edged knife. Sword. Whatever blade you want it to be. They can't listen either. The dirt would fill their ears."

[Bexy] White clearly hasn't met Adelle. Suppose if my hand slipped a little too far, she could always help me. But, she's a busy woman. I wouldn't want to hassle her with something so strenuous unless i truly had to.

A small, thin-lipped smirk curls on Bexy's lips, but she doesn't let anyone see it. "I know people who can make that happen. Not for very long, though." She chooses not to elaborate, before moving on. "If it came to it i could always take another of them, should Sayuri choose to kill him. Ultimately, it's her decision. Haven't you ever wanted revenge, White?"

The question hangs, and Zhav glances to the Raen in her arms, settling her a little more comfortably as she adjusted, stepping through the thickening trees. The sound of a birdcall bellows overhead, and White can likely feel Zhav's head turn in the direction of it, grin widening. "Ain' s'far, now!"

Easily replied, "Nope!" When a certain 'prince' shooed her ahead of leaving a gathering and she walked her boots all over his living room, would that be considered revenge? She didn't think so. Or when a certain 'bird' smashed cake into her face and she went to return the favor, was that revenge? She didn't think that was either. Not in the way she assumed Bexy meant.

White did feel the turn and she lifted her's too. "You're pretty far out. Here." Curiosity had her ask, "Do. The birds mean somethin'?"

"…Never?" Bexy asked, brow lofted. "You've never been wronged so grieviously that you want to balance those scales?" It's clear she finds it difficult to believe, garnering her attention over her shoulder to White, not that she could see…

"Aye! S'my Clan. Th'call y'heard is from one've ours in th'tree. That one means that all's clear an' there's nothin' to report. S'a good sign." Zhav nods, walking on. "I'll be sendin' out ours when we're close enough. Y'might wanna cover y'ears." A pause. "Or… Uh… Whatever th'equivalent is. I ain' know. Can you?"

"Never." White repeated back to her. "My scales are fine how they are." Out on a chuckle came the bad joke. At least she thought it was funny.

"I can't. Not unless you wrap them up. I did that. When I went to Ishgard. They were specially made. For horns. Only these." She gently knocked on one of the long cream ones that grew out from the side of her head. "Bexy could always carry me~ When you do."

[Bexy] Absolutely not. She could stumble blindly along. I'm not carrying her. I could. But i'm not going to.

The quip sends Bexy's eyes rolling, and forward to the road again. "Then i don't expect you to understand why it's important." She remarks with a huff, seemingly content with her decision.

"Ain' never been that far north! Never seen snow. Not proper snow, anyway!" Zhav's words bring half a look over Bexy's shoulder.

"---Not that yours ain' proper, jus' it ain' fall from the sky all pretty like i heard, yeah? Kinda hard t'appreciate th'beauty've somethin' if it's stickin' out've someone!" The Keeper's shoulders roll, and she shakes her head, eventually bubbling in a laugh. "Oh, t'be carried blindfolded through the Shroud by Bexy…" It's sighed almost comically in a wistful tone. "Pretty sure i've had a dream're two 'bout that. Reckon other's've had nightmares about it."

The entire exchange sends an annoyed, heaved sigh out of Bexy's nose, and she picks up the pace, onwards.

[Zhav] ...Y'know there's some delight i take in annoyin' 'er just enough, but not so much that she'll turn round and kill me or somethin'. An' eeeeevery time, i seem t'push her that little bit further. What? It's fun!

White bobbed her head to side, mouthing each word Bexy spoke. Yadda, yadda, yadda— she's heard similar before from shes-lost-count amount of folks.

The laughing made her lips pull into a eye-squinty smirk. "She's hasn't? Not for you? Not ever?" If Bexy though she was going to let that little bit of knowledge talk pass on by, she'd wonder how hard her head had bit hit. "She really is mean!" Her own laugh quicky fell out.

"---Which one? Made snow f'me or carried me blindfolded?" Zhav chirps, her single visible brow lofted, pointy teeth on show. "Naaw, she's nice! Nice t'me, anyway." She beams with pride.

Bexy opts to keep her silence, slipping through the trees. It's a miracle her coat doesn't catch on any brambles. Wherever they are, they are far from the beaten path now, though the sound of water isn't too far away.

"The blindfolded one! While bein' carried." Another laugh escaped. "She hasn't told you to shut your yap. Not yet." Her voice took on a teasin' tone. "I guuuess she is nice. To you, anyway."

Like a child in a long traveled carriage, minus the smile, she opened her mouth to complain, "How much further? How much longer? How far are we from there? I think my arms are startin' to go numb." They weren't.

"I think if i carry on fuckin' wit' her she might grant m'wish." Zhav snorts, cackling. "Ain' far now! Ain' worry y'pretty head!" White is shuffled further up as Zhav's arm arched, aiming to sit the only somewhat smaller woman to one side.

Bexy keeps her quiet. Ears high on her head, her pace moves to slow, gaze immediately darting upwards to the trees.

It's then that Zhav takes a deep breath, sending out a birdcall of her own; a different kind than the one they heard, it's loud, but not unpleasant. A few seconds later, another is echoed in turn. "…Alrigh', they know we're comin'!"

White let out a surprised chuckle at the shuffling of her, adjusting her arms around Zhav's neck. Didn't want to bend it. Or pinch anything on either of them. "You think I'm pretty?" She didn't have to ask, but hearing a yes was that much sweeter than an assumption.

Another note was made, followed by a question, "If you don't. Chirp at them. What happens?" She was ready to make another, then several more.

"Nope. I know y'pretty." Zhav replied as though it was an immutable fact. "Might be 'alf blind, but i can see 'nough f'that." White's latter question was followed with another laugh. "Then we'll get a visit from th'watchfolk an' i'll be asked why th'fuck i didn'. I'm pretty clearly a Karahli, aye?" Zhav pointed with her more free hand to her face, for whatever purpose that served anyone. "An' folk know not t'fuck with Bexy. Intruders'll be turned away. 'S our territory, now. Folk who ain' play nice'll jus' be some live trainin' f'my Warband. Ain' 'appen often though."

Bexy stops at a fallen tree, and pivoting almost mechanically on the heels of her boots, begins to walk in an an almost straight line, save for the lumps and bumps of the various flora. She gave no words, no response to the duo, quietly thankful for the reprieve.

White puffed her chest, lifting her chin like a proud hen showing off, giggles included that settled down not too long after they started.

"Live. Trainin'." Curiosity could be heard in her tone, letting anyone paying attention know she was thinking. Exactly what, who knew. She did in the form of those other notes made one after another. Plus an addition to one already made. "For archers? Or axes?"

"All kinds. I'm th'Warmaiden, aye? I train folk, i make weapons. 'Course, i got an apprentice now, an' most've th'Warband can maintain their own stuff. But anythin' y'can hit someone wit', i can teach. Leave archery f'someone else, ain' shoot t'save m'life even 'fore i lost m'eye. Ain' know shite 'bout magic either. Suppose Menphina's gotta draw th'line somewhere when it comes t'dishin' out boons, aye?" That toothy grin returns, never absent for long.

"No, nonononono. Any more and everyone would be fallin' over. Eachother. For you." Good thing Bexy was up ahead or all their chattering would be the only things filling her ears. A question could do that too. "What if. Someone else. Chirped?"

"Aye, an' we can't have that, 'm already a busy 'nough woman without 'alf th'realm throwin' 'emselves at me." Zhav gives another amused snort, clearly enjoying what would have otherwise been a far more sinister and dour occasion. "Y'd have t'learn th'tones and what they meant, an' how t'replicate 'em t'perfection. We can tell, y'know." Her words came off as teasing, though there was some hint of friendly warning wrapped in there for good measure.

Bexy simply trudged ahead, close enough to hear them but not so she was deaf to everything else. Even if her general gait seemed comfortable, she was just as alert as ever.

"How busy is busy?" She wondered what a warmaiden's day was like. And night. "What do you do?" The warning didn't fall on deaf horns, but she wasn't going let it be front and center. The joke could instead. "You mean I can't come in here cawin' like a crow?"

"Weeeeeelll…" Zhav begins, in a long, exaggerated word. "Between trainin' th'kits, ensuring m'folk're armed and armoured, makin' sure m'Warband're not needin' nothin', carryin' out th'orders've m'Matriarch an' cookin', doin' dishes, or anythin' else m'folk might need… An' that's just at th'Clan!" She beams, clearly proud of her duties, and where she came from. "An' no. Well, ain' nothin' stoppin' y'. If y'particularly awful Nhar might shoot you." Zhav joked. At least, it was intended as a joke.

Another sigh is given from Bexy, but a far different one. In the distance, barely visible between willow trees, a light flickered; even dim from the windows. A house propped up against a tree was tucked away beneath the foliage, easy to miss unless someone was sincerely looking for it. "…We're almost here."

[Bexy] And thank goodness we are. Zhav is giving so much information, for whatever use White will make of it. I doubt she'd see any cause to harm her. They get along well enough. No one knows much of anything about the Karahli. So if there are wandering eyes in the wrong direction... I'll know where they came from.

White would agree. That was pretty busy, but the mention of a name caught her attention. "I wouldn't want that! I already have a scar." Whoops, she circled back to the name, lowering her voice all hushed like, as if asking was some kind of secret, "Is Nhar pretty?"

Her head picked up, turing her head in the direction of Bexy. "Here? So soon?" Wasn't she just complaining? She'd still be if the little chat hasn't been fun. Reaching the house meant they'd have the wrap it up? Her mouth pushed into a dramatic pout, its curled corners tossing any onze of seriousness someone might mistake.

"I've got plenty! Scars're like stories, yeah? An' marks've survival, usually. At least the cool ones." Zhav gives a cursory glance with her single purple eye over the Raen. "Y'only got one? It at least got a fun tale t'go with it?" Zhav asks, obliviously, only to give a sharp, barking laugh to the question. "Aye, yeah. Something like that. Pretty. Also pretty stuck up." Zhav's quip drags another laugh out of her as she moved on after Bexy, who only curled a smile at White's comment for the scar.

"We've been walking for long enough. Time flies when you're having fun." Bexy remarks, smirking. "Maybe if you ask her nicely, she'll carry you back."

With a lift of her hand she showed Zhav her palm. The one that had been healed(Xana'h tired, thats saying a lot for a man in withdrawals), but left with a scar— a matching one made a line in her scales the covered the back of her hand. It was hard to see.

"Two. If we count the other side. It'd make sense to. Wouldn't it?" She didn't wait for an answer. "Can you guess how I got it?"

Hearing the idea from Bexy's mouth she'd tuck it away, for now she gave Zhav her attention. Not all of it, but a good chuck.

"Hmm… Nah. I think it's just one! Unless it was gotten on two seperate occasions, aye? But it ain' look like it." Zhav squints to admire the scar, considering. "Somethin' sharp. Went into y'palm, and out th'back. Somethin' fast. Ain' look like an arrow." Something seems to trouble her, as one of her hands moves to takes White's so she can better see the faded injury.

"No. It was made durin' one. O-cca-si-on." She didn't protest, letting her hand be moved whichever way Zhav wanted to get the view she needed for what it was she was trying to see. "It wasn't an arrow." she added. As a treat. "What do you think What made it? Who. Made it?" Her lips held a small smirk she kept from taking over her entire bottom half of her face. For now.

Not replying immediately, Zhav simply considers the limb and all it's digits, how it might bend, and what might pierce her. "A blade, if i had t'make a guess. A damned sharp one. It's jus'… Weird." She glances to White, though it wouldn't have made a difference. "…Ain' no proper exit wound, unless it somehow went all th'way through? But there ain' no disturbance fer a hilt or nothin'. Was it glass?" A roll of her shoulders, then. "How'm i supposed t'know who? I ain' know who you know!"

Pacing on in silence, it's clear in the wave of her tail at her heels that she's listening. She makes no move to interrupt them.

"It did! It went all the way through. And pinned me to my bed—!" She flipped her hand over, showing the back of it. "—'s footboard. It's a wide one, you see. You can sit on it." If the curious Zhav were to look close enough there was a line that didn't match the pattern of the rest off her scales. It was the other scar, the exit.

"It wasn't glass." The dramatic woman paused before dropping the other metaphorical boot with a smile. "It was ice."

The admission sees Zhav shoot an accusatory look towards Bexy, who only shrugs her shoulders in indifference.

[Zhav] Bexy! How could y'? She's so nice! Or at least, nice 'nough t'me! We get on, i think! ...Maybe that explains a lot.

"She had information, and she wasn't going to give me it. What did you expect?" Head turned over her shoulder, a brow lofts as she slips beneath the bough of a willow tree, holding up one of the drooping branches as to better pass by.

Zhav sighs, making a face. She doesn't voice whatever thoughts are in her head, deciding it's better to keep them to herself, for a change.

"Speaking of which…" Bexy begins, as her front door is a little ways over arms reach. Propped up halfway into a small heavenspillar and shrouded by willow trees, the dark door bears no markings or defining features. "You can put her down now, Zhav. And you can remove the blindfold."

White spoke up! Over the end of Bexy's explanation. "She didn't offer a trade!" There was a small whine to her words. "Not a good one. Or a great one either. If she did the little chat would have been much cleaner."

"Do you really want me to see the outside?" It was said as if to say 'duh'. "Couldn't I tell others? What it looks like. I won't. But what if someone used a truth potion. A spell! On me." Do those even exist— her face scrunched in thought. But maybe she just wanted to be carried a little longer.

"We did trade, if you recall. You got to keep your life. You should be thankful." A dismissive wave is given, and a half-laugh. Now in her element… Or at least, too tired to care, her demeanor seems to shift. "Even if you saw the outside you'd never know where to go to get here. Even if you did, you'd never make it this far. Besides. It has windows, you'd see the outside from within, anyway."

Zhav slowly leans to allow White to plant her feet on the ground, only releasing her when she's sure she has her footing. "…So, uh… Same thin' on th'way back, or…?" It seemed an open question, having done the duties asked.

Leaning her head towards Bexy her words road up and down on little singy song, "I got more than that, if you recall~" Then at the whole 'you never make it speech she laughed. "If you're always lookin' outside. Do you? Icepick. Always look outside. At all times?"

She didn't let go of Zhav at first, letting her blinded gaze linger on Bexy just a little longer. A tiny bit more until she turned it up to Zhav. "Will you?!" she stood up onto her toes! As if her body couldn't hold all her excitement. Slipping a thumb under the blindfold she lifted it from one eye, peering at her. "The path has so many roots." There was the playful, smirky pout of hers. "I'm from a city! I could trip and get hurt. We wouldn't want that, would we? You'll do it, for me?"

Bexy gives a flat stare to White, and the smallest twitch of her ear in annoyance. "No, obviously. But it wouldn't make a difference. Now, when we're inside, you will adhere to my rules. You touch nothing unless permitted. You speak of nothing of the inside or the location to another soul, living or dead." She settles outside the door, dipping her head to Zhav. "It's up to you if you want to take her back."

Bexy's offer is greeted with a roll of Zhav's shoulders, and an easy smile. "Weeeeeeelll, wouldn' want y'to get lost, aye?" Her head tilts to see her with her remaining eye, mirroring White's pose. "Ain' worry, i'll see y'back safe. I'm scarier'n anythin' you'll see in th'woods!" Her eye flicks briefly to Bexy. "Well, almos' anythin'." Rising up to her full height, she offers a more firm nod in the Seeker's direction. "Aye. Gimme a holler when y'done, me or one've mine'll be listenin', an' i'll be right over. You have fun, aye?" A wry smile through black-painted lips is given, pointed teeth on show.

White let out an almost silent, soft chuckle. "Yes ma'am. Anythin' you say ma'am." she smart-mouthed back as her arm lazily slipped off of Zhav.

Pulling the cloth off, over her head she exclaimed, "You really are a knight!" A loud giggle hit the back of her grin she gave the woman, walking back, back, back some more, slightly bent at the waist with her hands clasped behind her. "I'll see you. Soon." Giving a wink she bounced into a turn, skipping on over to follow Bexy inside. "Do you have anythin' to drink? A snack? Do you have fruit? I like fruit. What about a fruity drink? We've been walkin' forever! I'm so thirsty."

"'m better'n a knight, 'm a Warmaiden." Zhav beams proudly, head inclined. She offers White a brief wave… Winking? At least, if it was supposed to be a wink, no one could tell on account of her only having one eye. "See y'!" Zhav bids her farewell, walking only a few steps before she snorts a laugh at White's demands towards the frosty Seeker.

[Zhav] Poor Bexy. She's havin' a hells've a day. Ain' imagine it'll get much better.

Bexy doesn't give an answer to White, merely narrowing her icy eyes towards the Raen and being quietly thankful she's unable to have children. Setting her hand on the door, it remains curiously unlocked, as she turns the handle and steps inside, holding the door open long enough for White to join her.

White gave one last farewell in the form of her well know fingery wave before practically hopping into the house. "You didn't say if you have any fruit. Don't you like it? I thought you enjoys rolanberries. I like those too. They're even better on cake. Or in it." It looked light something dawned on her as she whirled around to Bexy, taking a sweeping glance at the place as she walked backwards. "Both! I like when they both in and on it. The cake."

[Bexy] ...I'll give her the damned rolanberries if it just shuts her up. My head hurts, and i am exhausted... But it is far from over, yet...

[umbralsound-xiv]

Prompt #29 - Contravention

Character: Zhav The Black Shroud, 2, Seventh Umbral Era

It's a standoff. The tension in the thick Shroud air could be cut with a knife, if all and any available hadn't been held aloft in the air, pointed at enemies.

Hunting had become a primary concern. Enough that even the Warmaiden and her Warband had been designated the duty on top of everything else. The land still buckled from the wake of the Calamity, resources more scarce than they had ever been.

Difficulty after difficulty. The Wood Wailers hadn't made it any easier.

The Warband of Clan Karahli stood with their weapons drawn, pointed at the Wailers opposite. Between them, two antelope lay dead.

"Poachin'? We fuckin' live here!" Zhav's anger is palpable. She hasn't eaten in two suns, and the threads of her long patience are beginning to fray.

"All hunting in the Twelveswood is to be strictly mandated by---"

A Wood Wailer, tall and Elezen speaks from behind his mask, not moving an ilm, polearm pointed in Zhav's direction, though she's quick to interrupt him.

"By who? Th'fuckin' Seedseer? Padjals? Elementals? Go fuckin' shove it! We live here, this is our -home-! You ain' th'only fuckin' folk who're sufferin'!"

She snaps, and both take a step forth. She'd fight him if she had to. She's confident she'd win.

"You won't come quietly for your crimes. You're leaving us with little choice."

"What fuckin' choice!? We'll starve! We -are- starvin', not that you an' th'rest've your masked bastards give half a damn!" Zhav composes herself a little as one of her Warband shifts her feet with a sway. They could fight, and likely win. But not without loss.

"Poaching is breaking the law. That can't go unpunished." The Wailer states. He testingly moves forward, as one of Zhav's Warband darts to her side, holding her lance aloft with a hiss. She'd fight, if it meant they could retreat with food.

"Oh aye. Punish us. Y'reckon you've got the strength?" Zhav asks threateningly. "Ain' much good w'numbers. But i'm countin' two of us t'every one've you. An' that makes y'outnumber thrice over, at least."

The sound of a birdcall rings out through the trees, only bringing a grin to Zhav's pointed teeth. It wouldn't be long.

"Even sayin' y'win. What're y'gonna do? Un-kill them? Brin' 'em back from th'dead?" She nudges one of the antelope with her boot. "Yer a real asswipe, y'know that?"

The Elezen tightens his grip on his weapon. "You'd be better put to the sword, the lot of you." He hushes, threateningly.

"Ain' fancy sendin' th'cute redhead this time? Aw, shame. He's a real lot fuckin' more lenient'n you. Smart 'nough t'know when t'back. Th'fuck. Off." Zhav's teeth are bared, and the gap between them is closed...

...As an arrow sails through the trees from behind the Warband, and collides with one of the Wailers, forcing a retreat.

At the very least, they would not go hungry, this night.

[umbralsound-xiv]

Prompt #20 - Hamper

Character: Zhav The Black Shroud, Present Day

It wasn't often she ever had much time for herself, in the many moments her people demanded of her; a cherished responsibility, certainly, but even she needed time away. Time to herself, in any case.

Zhav wades further into the river, the cold water kissing her hips, before she opts to plunge beneath it to soak the rest of her frame, head sinking beneath the surface for a short while until she reemerges for breath. Rivulets poured unevenly down her marred flesh, kissed by flames. Hair stuck uncomfortably to her face, a little longer than she might have liked; she'd cut it soon.

Swimming to where the waters were calmest, and only the faintest sounds of her people could be heard, she takes a long, deep breath. For once, Zhav has enough time to herself to be lost in her thoughts, gazing up at a starlit sky that reflected like a mirror on the motionless water. Her single eye drifts downward to her own reflection.

How long had it been since she lost it? Four cycles, now? A fingertip reaches up to trace the hollow where her other eye should have sat, damaged beyond saving in some conflict where she'd been punished for her fear of the flames that had taken so much from her. Warpaint spills down her face, the blackened, tar-like substance would need reapplying when she was done, but even with it scrubbed clean her skin would still forever hold remnants to know where it sat.

Warmaiden. How long had she held that title, now?

...How much longer would she have to hold it? Already she had a record on her shoulders, part in skill, part in tragedy for being given the role so young; Zhav was the longest standing Warmaiden Clan Karahli had ever had. Now in her forties... How much longer would she have, now?

...Before she started slowing down. Before she could no longer keep pace with her Warband. The loss of her eye had hindered her some; appearences were never much for Zhav, instead finding pride in her scars. Her range of vision impaired, though her other senses had made up for it, with time.

...How long until she too fell at the hands of her enemies, when age and hinderance proved too much of a challenge?

...She didn't want to think about it. Having decided that was more than enough peace and introspection for one sun, Zhav wades out of the water with purposeful footsteps, destined for a set of dry clothes and a list of duties she would take pride in for as long as she drew breath.

...For however much longer Menphina would afford her.

[umbralsound-xiv]

Prompt #15 - Portentous

Character: Zhav The Black Shroud, 1558, Sixth Astral Era

The cool, black substance makes contact with her skin, stinging as it skirts over a still fresh wound at her cheek. Zhav's gaze lingers outward, a crowd of eyes through shade lined trees watching the anointment.

Her ragged breathing wasn't attributed to nerves. She knew this day would come eventually. She'd prepared for it, spent cycles in doing so, learning every art and skill Yohn had offered her in naming her apprentice. Zhav just... Hadn't expected it so soon.

Dim candles flicker at an altar made from the stump at a recently felled tree, where Zhav's head rested. They did similar things at executions; it was symbolic. The loss of a life, or the beginning of a new one. In Zhav's case, it was both.

Yohn was gone, as were two others of the Warband. Zhav hadn't even been present when it happened, but was the first to hear the news. The fallen had already been burned. And Yohn's ashes now scattered and mixed into the black paint that now adorned her.

"Stand." Khuri bids her. The taller and much older Keeper dons the facepaint of a healer, long green hair greying at the tips with age. Only the way she carried herself painted her as Matriarch.

"Zhav, Warmaiden of Clan Karahli. Under Menphina you begin this life anew. As our Warmaiden from this moment until your last, what vows do you pledge us?"

Upright, Zhav's learned but youthful features regard those watching her. Her eyes had brimmed with tears for Yohn's loss, but so many were looking up to her now. She speaks, unwavering and full of fire.

"I pledge t'protect you. To do m'duties to th'best of my ability." Zhav clears her throat from the grief that had welled in it, speaking in a rare, clear tone. "I know 'm young. But that jus' means i've got more cycles t'give t'you."

Dipping her head to the Matriarch, she turns to her people; still red-eyed from the funeral only bells ago. The last they woke, their previous Warmaiden still yet breathed. One woman with a cross on her face inclines her head at Zhav's gaze, a sharp nod in response.

"Alrigh', you got weapons that need maintainin', bring 'em t'me. We'll start plannin' at sunset t'morrow, an' i'm gonna keep watch in case them bastards try somethin' else. Whara, Okhi, y've had most rest; y'on watch with me. Rest've you, get y'heads down."

The orders flowed from her lips as easily as breathing, and despite being only fourteen cycles and far younger than many of the Warband, people fell in line immediately. Yohn had trained her well enough.

And from Khuri's expression, a better choice for Warmaiden could not have been made.

[umbralsound-xiv]

"They landed wit' a bang. Sayuri still standin', Eir laid out all bloody, Neoma yellin' at me t'get them inside.

Picked him up. Ain' all that heavy, 'f 'm 'onest. Managed t'get 'im downstairs th'the bed, where all what i can only assume th'medical stuff were.

...I seen things like this before. This whole... Frantic healin'. Seen it a time're two with Mhira. Ain' ever get any less stressful, but... Y'get more prepared for it. There's a time f'jokin', aye? A time f'levity, but this weren' it.

...Weren' much i could do save f'watch over 'em. Give what comfort i could t'Sayuri, not that she tore her gaze away from 'er fella all that much. Ain' blame 'er.

...Think she's still in shock, from th'way she were. It... Kinda hurts, y'know? Seein' folk you've always known as strong become so withdrawn.

...I wonder if that's 'ow i felt, when...

...Yeah.

Zihre's with 'em out there. Bexy'll look after 'er, i'm sure. She wouldn't leave her out there. Ain' often we get t'fight people, an'... It were a good way for 'er to practise. I ain' know how i'd feel, watchin' her kill someone, if it came t'it. Though i know she would. I know she'll be fine, 'course she will!

...Ain' stop me worryin', though. 'specially for what i'm seein' in front've me.

Ain' take too much imaginin' from th'wounds i'm seein' to make a guess what happened in there..."

[umbralsound-xiv]

Levity.

Folk've gotta eat, even those out on th'warpath. Won' be dippin' m'hands into it unless Bexy says, but i figure th'least i can do is make sure she's got somethin' t'eat when she gets back each sun.

As was becoming his wont, Mattisaux helps himself to the overgrown abode, exhaling at length to the safety of shelter and away from the watchful gaze of the Shroud. The dim shading squinted his eyes which soon darted side to side for anyone, or anything, of interest. "You are here, Bexy?"

Zhav Karahli flicks an ear at the sound of the door, head turning almost right the way around before the rest of her body follows. A woman whose exposed flesh was more scar than skin in places offers a toothy grin, a cookpot of stew simmering away behind her in the flour-laden chaos of the counter. Notably, Zhav's axe remains propped up not far from Mattisaux's boot. "Nah, she ain'. Not been back 'ome yet this sun, but she promises she will." Zhav tilts her head. "Mattisaux, aye?"

Around the time he finished asking his question did he spy a figure by the stove and her mouth thereafter. Rather than responding straightaway, he opted to raise a brow in mild contempt, looking over her scar-laden body, and walked the rest of the way inside to unload a bag he was carrying. "She has told you about me, I assume?" His tone grated with annoyance. "To think I am that much to warn others about."

Zhav Karahli: "Yeah? I mean, y'wouldn't've made it to th'front door if someone ain' know 'bout you. Tall an' broody lookin', Elezen fella, usually dressed dark, sword an' shield. She ain' -warn- me, she told me." She flashes another grin. "Zhav, Warmaiden've Clan Karahli. S'nice t'meetcha."

Again, Mattisaux squinted. "What?" His brow twitched in a pause while he stared at the foreign woman. "Your name is Zhav Warmaiden… Ah, right. That Karahli clan she nearly died for." His eyes scrolled up and down Zhav's frame with more purpose. "-You- are a warmaiden?"

What's that fuckin' look for? 'eard he were a grumpy bastard, but ain' know what t'expect besides. Seems like th'proper sort, 'ow i speak seemin' t'catch 'im off guard. Eh, he can learn.

Zhav Karahli: "Aye? What, you expectin' some big ol' burly Roegadyn're somethin'?" Zhav, despite her shorter stature, is a good deal more stocky than many other Miqo'te. "Aye. An' she did. Were 'er idea. We're grateful still." A tilt of her head perks the only brow visible. "Y'hungry?"

Mattisaux Baschet: "No, I am not hungry." After another sigh, he moved over to the lofty couch at the opposite of where Zhav stood to rest himself. "And with a mouth like yours, you may as well as be the worst Sea Wolf I have encountered."

Zhav Karahli: "Y'sure? Plenty t'go aroun'." Zhav reaches behind her to grab a bowl of something decidedly floury, mixing something with her hands. "Born in th'Shroud. Deep Shroud, ain' see folk much out've it, least 'til recent. S'kinda a… Gyr Abanian… Shroudy… Muddle. Can talk slower 'f it 'elps ya!" She laughs, seeming to find some amusement in the offer.

A quiet groan whined his throat, pushing a corner of his mouth in a slight frown. "Very kind of you to offer. When do you suspect she will return? Or are you here to lie in her place? If she is willing to die for you and your lot, then we both know how careless she is when it comes to protecting people, or in this case hunting them or something ridiculous."

Zhav Karahli: "Ain' know. S'usually after midnight. Been up since a couple bells since, huntin' t'cook somethin' proper f'when she came back. An' i ain' gonna lie." A small frown brings about the truth of her words. "Bexy ain' one t'lie t'folk, direct're otherwise. An' she ain' careless. Ain' say i'd do what she did, given th'reversed roles. But she's survived this lon', aye? She knows what she's doin'. Why y'got so little faith?"

Mattisaux Baschet: "Gods," he breathed not too quietly and tossed a lax hand as he spoke. "I do not intend to confide to some stranger though she -is- reckless and hardly gives a second thought to her wellbeing. She keeps such loutish company, I almost feel worse for her."

Zhav Karahli: "…Reckless an' careless're differen'. Careless means y'ain' give a shite. Reckless… Aye, yeah. She's plenty reckless. S'part've 'er charm, though, an' i reckon folk find it fetchin' -- M'self included, 'mongst other things." Zhav winks. Though, it's hard to tell, considering she only has one eye. "Loutish! Pff. Well, maybe if y'ain' sat there like someone'd pissed in y'porridge, it might be a bit nicer, aye?" She snorts a laugh, picking up a sliver of dough and setting the bowl behind her.

Face like that, y'think i'd insulted him an' 'is mother. Know he's Ishgardian, but y'think it'd kill 'em t'smile. Mist ain' quite as bad, an' Laurent's a delight. Wonder what crawled up his ass an' died?

Mattisaux Baschet: "Attractive, truly." Mattisaux made an effort to sound as flat as he could muster with an expression to match. "Reckless and careless are the same when it comes to her. She is uncaring of her wellbeing to the point where she would throw herself into a fire if it meant saving her shambled family and seeing how you are, I fear I may have learned where she got that side of her from, if you are so close. There is no charm to it, only frustration."

Zhav Karahli: "Then, how'd you become so close t'her, huh? Close 'nough t'know where 'er house is. An' carry 'er back." Zhav picks up a spoon, and slathers a glob of honey into the middle of the dough, folding it in on itself and setting it onto a baking sheet, repeating the process as she speaks. "…She jus' cares more 'bout folk than most. What's a few scars an' scrapes if it keeps everyone else safe?"

The extra detail Zhav casually mentioned rose a brow of his, breathing in deeply just to shallow it out. "Yes, what is a few more scars, a missing leg, a gouged eye, and so on? So what if she gets cleaves or someone caves her chest in so she dies slowly, painfully without anyone to see her last? Gods, all of you are mad. Especially the Miqo'te of this group." He lifted his hand to squeeze at the bridge of his nose, digging into his eyes.

Mattisaux Baschet: "She wormed her way into my life and now I am subject to cretins like you and choice others."

You burst out laughing at Mattisaux Baschet.

Zhav Karahli snorts another laugh. "Oh? An' what, that armor's jus' for show, yeah? Y'wear it for decoration, or you actually bother usin' it? Reckon you do, if y'any help t'Bexy. Ain' you got folk you'd lay down y'life for?"

Mattisaux Baschet: "I see she only told you the barest minimum about who I am. My mistake in thinking you were close in the first place; it seems like she would lay down her life for just about anyone that smiles and gives her the time of day." Huffing slightly, he continued on. "I was a soldier from Ishgard, if you have ever heard of such a thing living in these backwards lands speaking your unintelligible language. My entire life was devoted to sacrificing myself."

Zhav Karahli: "Aye, then y'know too well. Sacrificin' y'self fer those y'hold close. Ain' much differen' t'bein' a Warmaiden in some regards. I protect m'people. S'my duty, alon' with all th'rest've it that it carries. An' it ain' like she gave me a detailed rundown, aye? Not like she an' i've spoken much recent, with 'er bein'… Busy, an' all. Our accord goes some ways back. A deal first, on 'er part. We became friends later."

Mattisaux Baschet: "Your title of Warmaiden is for protecting? It makes you sound as bloodthirsty as you look, though as savage as I expect anyroad." As he settled into the sofa while his temper quietly simmered, he tried to dispel some of it by looking elsewhere in the shaded space. "I hardly care how exactly you two met though it comes as no surprise that she might chase another tribe that I can assume is not her own."

Zhav Karahli: "…Warmaiden. Protectin', aye, when it comes t'it. But ain' even half've, even most've what i do. Every kit born into th'Clan gets a weapon, an' most're trained by me. All weapons? Maintained by me. Armour too, forged by m'own hands if needs be. Huntin' an' cookin' sometimes too, but that's mostly fer fun. Y'teach 'em t'protect 'emselves. An' protect 'em in their stead when they can't." Each of the honey filled pastries are set on the tray, which is thrust with a short shove atop the flames of the fire, which Zhav immediately retreats from with a wary look. She opts to prop herself on the edge of the table, looking over Mattisaux with her single eye. "Ain' enjoy killin' much… Ain' all that bloodthirsty, if'm honest. But good t'know th'look's still there." Only half a grin is given to that, a pointed tooth on black-painted lips. "She owed us. We ain' never ask f'nothin'. But she 'elped us out've somethin' rough. We watch 'er home, her folk when we can, in return. S'the least we can do."

Mattisaux's face did not get any more joyful the closer she came to him, though with her only a few fulms awayand less in the dark, he found he could settle back into the cushion a bit easier. "What did you do for her to have her owe you? Or was it you and everyone else in your overly dependent tribe?"

Ain' know how much Bexy told folk. Ain' really a secret're nothin', just figure it ain' really come up in conversation, aye?

Zhav Karahli: "-Clan-. We ain' Seekers. An' you call me th'clueless one." Zhav rolled an eye, shaking her head. "Y'know she risked 'erself f'us. I wager if y'here, y'know plenty 'bout Bexy. Coeurl an' all. Some folk at th'Clan still call 'er it, but we're doin' our best t'wean it out. Good ways back, we Karahli brokered information, aye? Talkin' cycles ago. 'pproached by a woman Bexy'd scorned some time're other. Figured we'd want 'er dead, like most've th'folk in th'Shroud at th'time; ain' my decision, were m'Matriarch's back then. But anyways. We worked with 'er t'bring th'Coeurl down, right up until this woman started t'get real impatient 'bout shite. Did a few thin's she shouldn', an' eventually we decided t'pull our help, figurin' it were better if th'whole fuckin' thing sorted itself out without our involvement. Bexy were well into 'er killin' by then, an' we weren' lookin' t'make ourselves victims." Zhav finally comes to some sort of pause, and a rare consideration for her words. "We suffered fer it. Weren't too lon' before Bexy learned that we picked 'er side over Lividine's that she decided t'help. We could've killed 'er, if we wanted to, back then. But it ain' seem right, after learnin' th'circumstances."

Mattisaux Baschet: "For someone so unstudied, you are quite particular with words that mean the same thing." After saying his piece, he listened to her story patiently and even waited a few moments to wait if there was more. Then he gestured to Zhav. "This Lividine wanted Bexy dead so she commissioned a -tribe- to do her bidding just for you lot to turn on the woman? And Bexy -trusts- you?" Then a sigh slipped free. "She trusts -me-, I suppose this should not surprise me as much."

Zhav Karahli: "Lividine wanted Bexy dead, aye. Framed 'er, did a stint in a Gridanian Gaol f'it. Ain' expect you t'know how us Keepers an' Duskwight 'ad it back then, but yeah. When we ain' get results as fast as she wanted, y'know, because we didn' want t'get ourselves fuckin' killed, she made a show've hurtin' one've us t'give us some encouragement. Y'ain' hurt our folk. Not f'nothin', unless y'got a fuckin' deathwish. S'somethin' me an' Bexy can agree on, yeah? T'an extent, anyway. But since trackin' 'er down an' doin' 'er in were provin' t'be way more dangerous than thought, -an'- she weren' nothin' like th'Coeurl we knew, aye, yeah, we turned on Lividine. Were some cycles between that an' us talkin' now, an' a lot've trust t'be built. She ain' trust all that easy." Zhav's head tilts up a little. "What'd you do t'get hers?"

A soft hum of understanding lifted his head in a single, slow nod. That was until her last comment. "Mayhap those years back then her requirements for trust was more rigid, however in these days, they may as well be as loose as a whore in Ul'dah… if you have ever heard of that city anyroad. I was simply part of her company; I could not begin to tell you the reason why she continues to place her trust in someone like myself. She is mad these days, I swear."

Guy don' have a super high opinion've 'emself. Huh. Wonder what all that's 'bout. Used t'be part've th'company, but ain' anymore. ...Maybe i'll ask 'er, one sun.

Zhav Karahli: "I ain' fuckin' stupid, y'know? I know where Ul'dah is, an' Ishgard, an' you ain' th'only Ishgardian i met." Her brow lofts, unimpressed. "I reckon it's more'n that. I spent plenty've time at that company house, yeah? S'a good place t'teach repairwork an' th'like t'my apprentice. She's plenty nice t'folk. But none know where she lives, save a few. An' folk know t'keep there hands from 'er. An' 'ere you are, pickin' 'er up like a sack've popotoes. She's probably mad in places, aye. Gettin' 'er sister taken ain' done 'er no favors. I train Sayuri th'suns she ain' train wit' Bexy." Zhav nudges her head in the direction of the axe at the door. "…Ain' born sisters, 'course. But closer'n some born, f'sure."

Zhav Karahli: "Hopefully she'll stop bein' all…" Zhav gestures vaguely with a hand. "…This, when she's home."

Mattisaux Baschet: "And yet you and I know of this place, a scalekin, and a few others I have already seen. It is only a matter of time before this space is even more of a second company home." He rolled both his eyes at her, because he could. "I also hardly believe that my carrying her home means as much as you are making it out to be. She was injured and unreasonably exhausted, she -needed- the help. This entire situation all because her sister was baited into her captors." He shook his head slowly. "That girl will never stop with how she is. She will be relieved, perhaps beyond belief, but I suspect she will be on pins and needles with paranoia. Mayhap she will bite someone's head off to which I would not mind seeing if that head is not mine. I would like to see why Sayuri though. She is a soft little thing, sure, and they both share ice, but why else?"

Zhav Karahli: "Ain' that many folk know. An' i've sat in a tree countin' 'em." Zhav wanders back to the oven, and after wrapping her hands in a towel, drags the tray up and onto the counter to cool. "Y'probably right. I ain' imagine Bexy'll die away from a battlefield're somethin'. She ain' never spoke've old age, an' i reckon she knows. It'll take plenty t'kill 'er, but somethin' will, one sun… Jus' 'ope no time soon. Not before me, anyhow. Ain' know why Sayuri. Ain' as soft as you say. Vicious little bugger when she fights, an' that's jus' sparrin' wit' Zihre. Maybe s'jus' the whole… Companionship? I ain' know. There's somethin' there i ain' understand m'self, but it's clear she's important." Zhav finally settles on moving to the cabinet. "Drink?"

Mattisaux Baschet: "You people keep saying that, it is almost as if you truly wish for her to drop before your eyes…" The conversation soured his glower over Zhav. "You lot also mention how dangerous she is and that she could claw a man's face clean off. Here I thought I enjoy casually exaggerating things, instead I am surrounded by some drama troupe." However, to the sound of suspected liquor, he quieted the edge of his tone. "What does she have? Wine?"

Zhav Karahli: "I ain' wanna be there for th'fallout when she does. I ain' want 'er dead. But i ain' stupid. She won' slow down, won' stop. Always puttin' 'erself in harms way f'the folk she cares about, an' she cares about a lot've folk. Ain' much good wit' numbers, but it ain' take a genius t'figure out where that path goes, aye? M'walkin' it m'self, maybe a bit slower'n she does." Zhav looks over the shelf, eye squinting at the bottles in text far too intricate for her to read. "Ain' see no wine. Somethin' amber though. Sorry if it 'ffends y'delicate Ishgardian sensibilities." Zhav picks up two entire bottles of what appear to be various kinds of spirit, offering one to Mattisaux on her return. "Y'know she's strong. Y'just worried 'bout what happens when that strength fails, aye?" Her words were spoken with some kind of concern, brow quietly lofted.

The small comment about his tastes earned a flat line from his mouth, choosing to ignore it and move on. "She is not strong. She is helpless in more ways than one. The girl merely pretends to keep herself together, and even more so because her sister is on the line." Seeing a full bottle given to him without a second thought, he naturally accepted the offer and worked on popping it open. "And you hardly look like you are working on your grave slowly, if that was even what spit out of your mouth. Those scars rival mine; were you the only one battling in your tribe or some nonsense?"

Zhav Karahli: "She's plenty strong. If y'can't see it, y'more blind'n i am. How'd you think 'er helpless? Y'think she'd have gotten this far?" Zhav opts to kick back onto the small wooden stump, nudging the lantern aside to rest against the pillar. "I've been fightin' since i could walk! Warmaiden since fourteen, an' been in plenty've fights besides. Plenty've us fight. Got a whole Warband. I'm jus'… Th'oldest one there is."

Mattisaux Baschet: "Were you not listening? She can hardly help herself outside of a fight. Ripping at people's throats and snacking on their insides is not what makes a person strong. For appearance, perhaps, though not truly." Only after he took a healthy swig did he continue his line of thought. "She merely enjoys it; the rush of hurting and ending someone. Enjoying your hobby is not being strong, it is just having fun. The only difference now is she has the perfect excuse for it. As for you and your vicious appearance, and axe, you look like the aftermath of an army. Both a won and lost one. Are there others as beaten as you are?"

Each scar's a mark've pride. Th'dead don' scar. Means y've fought f'somethin', won somethin', protected somethin', even if y'ain' managed t'win.

Zhav Karahli: "Aye. I were listenin'." Zhav picks up the bottle, bites out the cork to drop in her hand, and takes a long swig. "Cryin' an' screamin' an' comin' apart at the seams ain' weakness. She's fuckin' scared, an' anyone who gave half a damn 'bout losin' someone'd be th'same in their own way. But she ain' stopped. She's dusted 'erself off in some fashion, an' she's keepin' goin', despite th'odds an' everythin' else stacked agains' her. Sometimes strength's stupid, an' sometimes it's smart, an' i ain' sure i got th'smarts or knowledge've th'situation t'know which it is. But she's plenty strong." Another chug of liquor. "…Eh, most aren' so roughed up as me. But i'm th'Warmaiden, aye? I lead th'charge. Ain' put none of m'Warband in a battle i ain' a part of, unless i ain' got a choice."

Mattisaux Baschet: "In their own way. Right…" Zhav's words hung in the air for a bit, ringing in his ears. In a few more gulps of the spirit, he huffed louder than needed. "You are a Keeper, was it? What battles do you lot find yourselves in? Territorial feuds? Relationship spats? Other petty disagreements that grow larger as time goes on?"

Zhav Karahli: "Aye. Keeper. Good t'know you're listenin'." She gives a pointed grin, nodding to his question. "Territory, at least way back. We were contestin' another Clan fer a river at one point. Lon' and bloody war, plenty've battles. Th'Warmaiden that came 'fore me died there, an' s'where i took th'mantle almos'… Jus' shy've thirty cycles ago. At one point, it were th'Garleans. We're in the East Shroud, Aye? Aye. You ain' stupid. You know what direction they came. Plenty've other shite besides."

He helped himself to his drink, reflexively matching her each time she took a swig. "You fought the empire? Now you sound far too stubborn to die like someone else I know. Is that why half your face is bandaged? And are you normally this open to strangers? Putting aside the fact that you have stalked me on occasion, of course."

I ain' got no reason t'hide anythin' from anyone. 'm asked a question, why shouldn' i respond, if folk're curious?

Zhav Karahli takes another drink, a short wiggle of her ears in response. "Aye? What else were i gonna do, jus' let 'em stomp over us? Nah. Fuck that, an' fuck th'lot've 'em. We held our own, despite our numbers. An' i ain' that stubborn, 'm jus' good. I'll die when'm good an' ready, an' i sure as shite ain' ready yet." She takes another drink almost immediately afterwards. "An' no. We 'ad a civil war some bit ago. S'what Bexy 'elped us out of. Delicate situation. Lost m'eye, but not m'life, protectin' m'Matriarch." Her shoulders pluck into a roll. "Ain' got nothin' t'hide. An' i ain' stalked y'. Jus' noted y'passin' through, an' y'on th'list've folk not t'bother if y'headin' here."

Mattisaux groaned a hum, dangling his drink to and fro while he listened. "I must ask: are you a Coeurlclaw? You do not quite have the look about you and yet your mannerisms are much to be desired. Unless this is what all Shroud Miqo'te are like. All the tribe-ridden ones perhaps."

Zhav Karahli: "Hah! Like fuck i am! I got fuckin' -morals- f'one! What kind've flimsy fleabags that call 'emselves Keepers let 'emselves be run by some stuck-up bastard who calls 'imself King? Pff. Nah, like fuck. Ain' 'ave time f'fancy mannerisms, Ishgard-boy. Whaddaya want me t'do? Stick a dress on an' pull a courtsey?"

Mattisaux Baschet: "With those gnashes and engravings over your skin, the dress would do nothing for you, dear. After the courtsey, I would expect something foul to slip out of your mouth. At least knowing that you are indeed not one of them, I do not have to wonder if I might find you at the end of my blade in the future. I would rather not have a talk with that Bexy over something like that."

Zhav Karahli: "If they ain' keep t'their bit've th'Shroud, we might fin' ourselves on th'same end of th'weapon." She flashes a small grin, which she drowns with more liquor. "Ain' made fer a dress, s'why." A lop sided grin curls onto her lips. "…Bexy looks real good in a dress…" Zhav mumbles, casting her glance away to mutter to herself. "…Even better without it, i reckon…"

Through the wash of the liquor, her accent struggled to decipher itself through his ears. He squinted even harder at Zhav and downed a bit more of the bottle as if that might help. "Any girl can dress well, even in some dresses, I am certain…" He examined her briefly. "Perhaps. That aside, Bexy is the type to take her appearance seriously. Always with makeup, her hair in neat waves, clothes hardly ever disheveled. It was why it was so jarring to see her otherwise, so much in disarray that she needed to be carried home." He quickly knit his brow. "I see you wish to make it plain how little shame you have."

Eh. Maybe he ain' know th'side've her that i know so well. Met 'er as th'Coeurl, who were kinda both. Always dressed well. Reckon s'why 'er stories scared folk more'n those 'bout monsters. Cause she existed, an' she were real. She ain' look like a monster. ...Not usually, anyhow. Seen it once.

Zhav Karahli: "What's th'shame in it? She -knows-! It ain' a secret! Menphina forbid i got a -preference!-" Despite drinking, Zhav doesn't seem anywhere near tipsy; though around a third of a bottle is gone. She just is this way, unfortunately. "Oh -aye-… She always dresses well. Only ever saw 'er in combat leathers f'moons when we firs' met… An' then Mhira called a meetin', an' she showed up all casual-like, an' m'thoughts've never been th'same since." Zhav didn't seem even slightly ashamed for the admission she was all too willing to share. "Better'n 'er bein' over-vain, mind. I think 'er always bein' so proper takes th'edge off 'er more frightenin' qualities… An' makes 'em worse, when y'learn. I ain' care though."

Mattisaux Baschet: "By the gods…" He could not stop from shaking his head. "You fantasize about her in front of me, now I fear you might drop your shorts to satisfy your cravings. Were you any other woman, I would not dream of stopping you though I can only imagine how… you might be. I must remind you that her type lies with the feeble, fairytale-wishing kind of man. One who is soft without a taste for battle."

Zhav Karahli exclaims a laugh, which she fights in aid of more drink. "Aye, i know. Tall an' handsome an' all romantic-like, and she ain' into women. But a woman can -dream-." Her gaze levels almost threateningly on Mattisaux. "An' i -will-." It was a promise. "I reckon all th'dressin' up will go back t'normal when everythin's… Resolved. Ain' heard too much since. But she's still out lookin' every sun. Ain' seen 'er hurt though."

Mattisaux, for once, was at a loss for words. He sat in silence before he managed to pick himself up for the couch and fish through the bag he placed there. Unfortunately, it was next to Zhav. From it, he plucked a few more potions, vivid orange and violet ones for concentrated healing, and a paper package of a rolanberry pastry. "You -must- have a filter when you speak, woman. Even I have one despite my effects to shake it off. It is hardly attractive for a woman, most especially if you are looking to attract other -women-."

...Menphina's tits, he's highly strung. 'Course, i ain' serious 'bout even half've this, but it's fun t'wind 'em up, not that 'e takes all that much windin'.

Zhav Karahli: "Oh aye, an' you'd know, would you?" An inquisitory brow is lofted, as she snorts another laugh, flashing the same toothy grin. "I ain' had no difficulty, ain' i ain' needin' your advice. No amout've fancy talkin's gonna turn 'er t'me, an' i ain' wanna soun' like i've eaten a dictionary're somethin'." Sufficiently amused, Zhav sits a little more upright, putting the cork in the bottle. "Y'headin' out?"

Mattisaux Baschet: "You sound like you have been biting your tongue everytime you open your mouth, much less a dictionary. Yes, I am heading out. Tell her I will stop by again but much later as I could only suffer you for so long. Never have I ever met a woman with a loose mouth like yours. Quite disgusting, to say the least." After placing the few items on the stump, he made way for the door. "You have given me more insight on the company our frostbitten girl keeps though I do so pray you are the only exception to the rule she keeps."

Zhav Karahli: "Oh!" Zhav dramatically lays a hand on her chest. "Y'sensibilities! Even more delicate'n i thought." She laughs, glancing over the set down items, and shuffles herself from the stump. "I'll make sure she gets these, aye? An' i'll tell 'er y'dropped by!"

Mattisaux Baschet: "Gods… Next time I see you here, I might just turn back around. I would rather not interrupt you enjoying yourself in the middle of her floor. Pray, behave yourself."

Zhav Karahli: "What, an' ruin a perfectly good rug?" A brow lofts, grin at her lips, but it's at least… Mostly clear that she's joking. "Oh aye. M'best behaviour." She rolls her eye, flashing him an amused grin before returning back to the stove to tend the stew.

He served as some kind've amusement at least, so 'e's got that goin' f'em. I'll tell Bexy he dropped by! Maybe she'll tell me somethin' why he's so fuckin' sour...

[umbralsound-xiv]

😘 - For: Zhav, About: Zihre!

Them as a person : "I'm assumin' that y'wantin' me t'keep this brief, aye? Because i could really go on, an' on, 'bout 'ow great she is. Love 'er t'bits, an' she'd better know it, an' i'm gon' make sure everyone else knows it too! She's smart, stron', an' everythin' i were lookin' fer... Amongs' other stuff i ain' know i needed til i met 'er."

Level of attractiveness : "I mean, look at 'er! She's adorable! ---Don' tell 'er i said that. But she is, aye? She'll grow into that babyface one sun!"

What annoys them most : "I just wish she'd go have fuuuun! An' i mean like, proper fun, not like... Learnin' whatever i'm teachin' 'er, even if i 'ppreciate that she enjoys it! Those duties're gonna be almos' 'er whole life one sun, an' i want 'er t'enjoy it whils' she can!"

What they like the most : "'er enthusiasm, more'n anything! She weren' born into th'clan, sure 'nough, but that ain' changed a thing. She were so eager t'learn our ways, t'want t'fit in with everythin' she could! Anyone can learn t'forge an' train, but it's 'er enthusiasm f'th'duty she's got that makes me think she's perfect!"

What they’d do if they were locked in a closet together for 4 hours : "Probably some real dumb shite, but it'd be funny. We could try t'break th'door down! --Who even goes about lockin' folk in closets, anyway?!"

Overall opinion : "Look, ain' think you'd expect anythin' shy've a glowin' report, aye? She's m'apprentice Warmaiden, an' a whole century's worth've cycles could pass an' i ain' fin' no one better. An' i..." For the first time, Zhav pauses. "...I love 'er like a daughter. Not that anyone needs t'hear me say it. I'm sure she knows."

Rating : EXTREMELY HIGH - Apprentice Warmaiden, and adoptive daughter!

[umbralsound-xiv]

Dishwashin’. It ain’t glamourous, but it’s necessary as much’s anything else. Took the bowls t’the stream t’wash ‘em, and were quite happy doin’ so until Zihre dropped by!

---Happier, then! If not jus’ for t’thelp, but f’her company!

Zhav Karahli dunks another bowl into the water, scrubbing it out with a small cloth. A not-so-small pile of bowls lay on a blanket, clean and not, Zhav making an effort to work through them.

Zihre Karahli wandered through the woods, ears twitching and flickering at every sound in case one of them would not belong. Spotting Zhav promptly makes her crack a smile, her focus resting on the woman by the river. ".. 'Ey!" She calls out, making her way over.

Zhav Karahli: "'ey!" Zhav calls, just as wide of a grin. "Come t'help me with these dishes, or did bein' prodded by all the mewlin's not strike y'fancy?" She laughs, beckoning the younger woman over. Another wooden bowl is set into the water with a scrubbing, setting it back on top of the pile of clean vessels with a clunk.

Zihre Karahli: "I let some o' 'em have a go!" Zihre laughed. "Can always help ye' if y'want, though. Ain' th'most glorious work, but gotta be done, aye?" She grinned, dropping herself down next to Zhav - ensuring to not accidentally knock over any dishes.

Zhav Karahli: "Aye, ain' glorious, but it's necessary. Ain' no one ever say Clan Karahli ate from grubby dishes." She sinks another one in from the pile, swishing it about in the stream. "'ow's th'wound? Stopped achin' yet?"

Zihre Karahli snickered quietly, reaching over to grab a bowl and sink it into the stream. "'S alrigh', th'Viera tha' saw t'it did a good job sealin' it. Achin' 's mostly over, 's just a lil dull one now. 'ow are ye' doin'?"

Zhav Karahli: "Not doin' bad! Mhira's got some meetin' with a Clan t'morrow, so i've gotta be attendin' f'that. Shouldn' be no bother though, jus' tradin' some supplies. Which means we're like t'be busy, if they're wantin' weapons, aye?"

Zihre Karahli grins madly at you.

Zihre Karahli: "I'll be sure t'stay 'bout at 'ome, when y'two go off." She fished the dish out of the stream and put it among the cleaned ones, before snatching onto a new plate to repeat the process of lowering it into the stream. "Yeah! Busy 's good." She nodded firmly, grinning. ".. 'S a lad at Bexy's company tha' got one o' our swords, fun t'see."

Zhav Karahli: "Busy's better'n borin', aye. But a steady trickle's better'n a fuckin' tsunami. Better'n overdoin' it." She grins her usual toothy grin, working on the mound of unwashed flatware. "...Oh aye? That so?" Zhav's visible brow lofts at the revelation. "'s he any good?"

Zihre Karahli: "... Tsunami would be inconvenient.." She mumbled, shaking her head before smiling anew. "Aye! Vhal'ra, 's his name. Pretty new t'things, but holdin' up well as far as I've seen. Sadly didn' take a part in th' contract I joined.. but neither did Sayuri."

Zhav Karahli: "...Ah. Th' Ansahk kid, aye?" A tilts of her head, as she begins a new pile as to stop the previous from toppling over. "Y'helped m'forge th'hilt. S'brother wanted somethin' lighter fer'em, so i made it t'fit 'is needs." She listened as Zihre spoke, cracking a smirk. "Y'll get y'chance! Ain' seen 'er in action m'self. But if what Bexy says 's true, then i reckon it's a fuckin' sight t'behold."

Zihre Karahli: "Aye, him! He's pretty nice, too." She nodded along as Zhav spoke. "Aye! Saw it on his back 'n recognised it, pointed it ou' t'him." Her smile turns into a wide grin, before shifting into a small pout. "One sun.." She huffed. "..Seen Bexy, tha's.. pretty fuckin' scary t'imagine comin' after ye'."

Zhav Karahli: "Y'makin' friends at th'company, aye? S'good t'hear." A smirk as a wet hand reaches up to ruffle the front of Zihre's hair. "Oh -aye-." Zhav half swoons at the mention, ears flicking. "Fuckin' terrifyin'. I keep askin' 'er t'spar me but she ain' 'havin' none've it." A huff, as another bowl plonks into the water. "Ah can dream."

She ain’ ever give much’ve a reason, but th’answer’s always th’same. You’d think she’d be more into honin’ her skills, but... Eh.

She ain’ ever explain why, either.

Hrm. Questions f’next time!

Zihre Karahli: "Well, I hope so! Most o' 'em are pretty friendly." A grimace is quick to follow as her hair is ruffled by the wet hand, a small smirk latching itself on her lips as she raises a hand to brush her fringe out of her face. ".. Why d'ye' want t'spar her?"

You grin madly at Zihre Karahli.

Zhav Karahli: "Why -wouldn'- y'want t'spar her? 'magine her! Pushin' y'about all strong like, pinnin' y'the groun'! I ain' even care if i lose, s'long as i give 'er a run fer 'er coin. T'say i fought th'Coeurl an' lived'd be somethin'."

Zhav Karahli: "---An' y'know. Bein' pinned t'the floor by Bexy's a win in itself, aye?”

Zhav Karahli waggles her brows.

Zihre Karahli makes a straight face at you.

Zihre Karahli: "..Boastin' righ's, t'be sure."

Zihre Karahli laughs at you.

Zhav Karahli: "Oh -aye-!" A smirk, then. "Thin's t'dream've at in th'lil bells of the sun."

Zihre Karahli: "-- Y'know. I regret askin'."

Zhav Karahli: "I ain' given y'nearly 'nough details t'be regrettin' anythin', Zihre." Zhav teases, flashing a toothy grin. "--- 'sides! Ain' you got anyone y'have y'eyes on?"

Zhav Karahli: "'m sure there's a lad're lass somewhere in the Clan, aye?"

Zihre Karahli: ".. Don't want 'em, either!" Zihre -pouts-, following it up with a loud laugh. ".. Nah. Ain'.. lookin' for nothin'. 'M busy."

Zhav Karahli: "Well, aye, we all are! Menphina's tits, yer as bad as Mhira. Ain' gotta be 'avin' kits're nothin', or even runnin' off fer a roll in th'brush, y'know?"

Zhav Karahli: "Jus' findin' someone's nice 'nough. Someone more'n a friend, i guess. Even if it's jus' t'listen."

Zihre Karahli: ".. Alrigh'. Y'got any suggestions for who, exactly? Cause ain' anybody 'm tha' close t' tha' I can think o'!"

You gaze upon Zihre Karahli in deep reflection.

Zhav Karahli: "...Well? What'd you prefer? Lads? Lasses? All've th'above?"

Zihre Karahli's lips draw into a thin line.

Zihre Karahli: "... I.. ain'-- given it thought.."

Zihre Karahli: "... I don't know."

You gaze upon Zihre Karahli in deep reflection.

Zhav Karahli: "...Well, what'd you respect in folk?"

Zihre Karahli gazes upon you in deep reflection.

Zihre Karahli: ".. I mean. Sense o' humour, t'a degree. Nice. Someone tha' got y'back."

You nod to Zihre Karahli.

Zhav Karahli: "...Aye, i can agree wit' that! I reckon' everyone in th'Clan'd have y'back, though. An' i won' have someone bein' a fucker t'ya so they'd -have' t'be nice."

You gaze upon Zihre Karahli in deep reflection.

Zhav Karahli: "Like... Idunno. I like both men an' women, aye? But there's some stuff i like more in lads, an' others in lasses."

Zihre Karahli: ".. Can't imagine anyone would be a fucker t'me when I got ye'." Zihre flashes a large but genuine grin. ".. I ain' really.. adverse t'either? Ain' got any.. relationship experience. Don't know if I swin' in th'way o' lads, or lasses.. or both."

Zhav Karahli: "Well, y'll figure it soon 'nough, i'm sure. F'me... I like m'lasses more rough an' tumble, aye? I like someone who ain' 'fraid t'meet me as an equal, an'll give as good's they get both in fightin' an' bickerin' both. Lads, i... Prefer 'em th'smarter, more bookish type, aye? Quieter. Makes fer a good night've conversation, an' it's also funnier t'annoy them when they're tryin' t'focus."

Zihre Karahli tilts her head curiosly as Zhav speaks, gaze flickering across the woman. ".. Women tha' migh' kick y'ass 'n men tha' won't, got it."

You beam with delight at Zihre Karahli.

Zhav Karahli: "...Somethin' like that. Though i figure y'got way more choice if yer into lasses. What 'bout Ajih? She's nice 'nough, aye? She's got pretty hair an' she's funny, always 'bout t'cheer folk up on a bad sun, aye?"

Zihre Karahli gazes upon you in deep reflection.

Zihre Karahli: ".. Ajih 's nice, aye. But.. 'm no' sure.."

Zhav Karahli: "What about Naya? She's real sweet, and at least she can put y'back t'gether if y'fight any... Wolfy-bird-snake fuckers 'gain!"

Zihre Karahli: "... She's cute, I'll give her tha'." Zihre snickered, tilting her head. "Ain' sure she wants t'chase down 'n heal me whenever 'm injured."

Zhav Karahli: "Why? 'ow often y'plannin' on gettin' injured, Zihre?" Zhav's tone turned inquisatory, then. A clean bowl has the water shook from it, smirking as it's set on top of Zihre's head.

Zihre Karahli's head sinks down as she receives a bowl-hat,  otherwise remaining still as she laughs. "Ain' plannin' on it! But Bexy did say I can attend contracts whenever I got th'time t'!" She grinned. ".. Suppose it would be one way t'ensure I did get healed, though. Just ain' sure she'd be interested."

Zhav Karahli: "Eh, y'never know! 'sides! Jus' cause you ain' lookin', ain' mean it won't find ya." Zhav teases, brow lofting and head canting as Zihre speaks again. "...Aye? She did? She mus' think good've you then, if she's invitin' y'back." A swat of Zhav's tail is given on th'floor. "That's m'girl!"

That’s high praise, comin’ from ‘er. Though ‘course i’ve seen Zihre fight before, i ain’ never seen ‘er take on somethin’ so... Huge.

I’ll be sure t’ask Bexy ‘bout it next i see ‘er.

...’nother question f’the pile!

Zihre Karahli: "I can attempt t'poorly flirt with Naya 'n watch her laugh at me for failin', 's fine." She snorted, raising her hands up to grip the bowl placed on her head to pull it off. "Aye!  Said y'can come, too."

Zihre Karahli grins madly at you.

You beam with delight at Zihre Karahli.

Zhav Karahli: "'d love to! Jus' a matter've time gettin' t'be free fer it. An' aye. Go flirt with Naya. Watch 'er get all flustered like. If nothin' else y'can wind 'er up 'bout Kihn'a."

Zihre Karahli grins madly at you.

Zihre Karahli: "Wha'? She likes 'im?"

Zhav Karahli: "...Reckon so. Were fussin' all 'bout 'em when he'd got nothin' more'n a cut on his leg. Ain' know if 'e feels th'same though. Pretty dedicated t'his duty, aye?"

Zihre Karahli: "-- Then maybe flirtin' with her ain' a good idea, if she already likes Kihn'a."

Zhav Karahli: "I mean, ain' hurt t'practise, Zihre!" Zhav snorts a laugh. "...'m kiddin'. Mostly, anyhow. Y'still youn', an' y'got time. I were courtin' at your age!"

Zihre Karahli laughs at you.

Zihre Karahli: "Targettin' someone who already fancies 'nother doesn' sound like th'best idea, though!"

Zhav Karahli: "S'only a suspicion! ...But aye, y'probably right. An' don' mean y'gotta be like... Confined t'em, y'know? Silver'n i -- We saw other folk. Ain' neither've us minded, an' it ain' like there's plenty've men t'go 'bout."

Zihre Karahli: ".. I guessss."

Zhav Karahli: "Unless y'subscribin' t'the -domestic- life." Zhav snorts. "Y'been talkin' t'Bexy too much, i think."

Zihre Karahli: "-- I mean.. -fair-."

Zihre Karahli: "... Maybe I can flirt with her, then."

Zhav Karahli: "---What, Bexy?" Zhav teases. She knew damned well what Zihre meant.

Zihre Karahli halfly chokes on her own breath.

You burst out laughing at Zihre Karahli.

Zihre Karahli: "-- -Naya-!"

Zhav Karahli: "It'll be fun if nothin' else, even if y'not wantin're expectin' nothing've it. Y'busy, aye, an' y've got a lot t'learn, sure! But y'can't forsake th'fun in life because of it, aye?"

Zihre Karahli: "... But... 'm havin' fun learnin'.."

Zhav Karahli: "Aye, an' i'm glad! But you gotta have fun -away- from th'learnin'! S'good f'ya." Zhav nudges her in the arm with a newly cleaned bowl.

I mean, don’ get me wrong. Bein’ Warmaiden’s a demandin’ job that’ll take up y’whole life, but that ain’ mean you can’t be nothin’ else, aye?

I guess i jus’... Wanted ‘er t’have somethin’ else, y’know? Other fun, other hobbies, ‘fore it actually -does- become ‘er life.

...Y’know.

When i’m gone.

Zihre Karahli laughs at you.

Zihre Karahli: "I suppose.."

Zhav Karahli: "Aye! Maybe even go hang out wit' th'folk at th'company're somethin', aye? At least, if we don' end up with a big ol' pile've work t'do."

Zihre Karahli: "Yeah! Would be nice t'hang 'round with 'em." She smiled. "-- Oh, by th'way.. I made y'somethin'!" She stuffs her hands in her pockets, rummaging around in them.

Zhav Karahli: "...Made me somethin'?" Zhav enquires. A bowl is fished again from the river, cleaned and stacked with the rest; but a few remain.

Zihre Karahli's hands withdraw from her pockets, one balled up. She extends the balled hand out towards Zhav with her palm facing upwards as she unfurls it, revealing a necklace of woven thin yet sturdy rope with a silver clasp attached to a fang. ".. 'S from th'snakehead!" She beams.

Zihre Karahli grins madly at you.

Zhav Karahli: "---An' this's f'-me-?" Zhav asks, though she well knew the answer. The necklace is taken and admired, draped over a hand as she holds it up to examine it. "...S'a fine trophy! An' look't that settin'! Snug 'gains th'metal, ain' even see where it joins!" It's eagerly looped over her head, setting to hang at her neck. "---C'mere, you." Zhav pulls the mat that held the plates back and out of the way, to pull Zihre into a hug.

---I could’ve cried!

It... It were a sweet thin’, an’ even if it weren’ well made -- An’ it were! -- I’d’ve worn it with pride anyway.

I... I ain’ know if she knows ‘ow much it means t’me. What she, means t’me.

No one’ll ever replace Yehn, an’ i ain’ ever expect anyone t’. But...

That... Ain’ mean i can’t love ‘er like a daughter.

Zihre Karahli: "Yeah!" Zihre beams in return, merely watching as Zhav examines the work - her joyous grin widening. Her arms are quick to leave her sides and dart for Zhav, draping around her as she's pulled into the hug. "'m glad y'like it!"

Zhav Karahli: "Zihre, i -love- it." Regardless, Zhav... Doesn't let go, instead offering a Zhav-sized squeeze that's enough to make someone's bones ache if she catches them wrong. "...Jus'--- You be careful, fightin' shite like that, aye? I'm real proud've you, an' y'more'n capable, but that ain' mean i don' worry."

Zihre Karahli returns a rather firm squeeze of her own, smiling. "As careful as I can be, I promise. 'N if 's with Bexy's lot, at least she will be there t'watch ou' for me, yeah?"

Zihre Karahli beams at you.

Zhav Karahli: "...Aye, yeah." Zhav's hand messily combs through Zihre's hair. "...Ain' nothin' bad 'appen' t'you, Zihre. At least, ain' nothin' more'n a scar, aye? How's it feel, havin' some new 'uns t'show fer it?"

Zihre Karahli's ears wiggle softly at the combing, her smile only widening further. "I'll be fine!" She reassured, tilting her head ever so slightly. "Feels pretty good! Th'chimera was.. bloody huge. I climbed it!"

Zhav Karahli: "Best be." Zhav murmurs, and drags Zihre more fully into her lap for a more affectionnate cuddle, removing Zihre's axe for comfort; as though she had no true say in the matter - It was happening. "---Y'climbed it? Th'chimera?" Zhav asks, enraptured. "Which bit?"

Zihre Karahli snickers quietly - absolutely not seeming to mind it. With her axe removed, she leaned herself back against Zhav, pressing her head against her shoulder. "Climbed up one o' th'front legs, up on th' back. Settled on it by th'necks t'hit th'snakehead again. I was still on it when it fell down!"

Zhav Karahli: "Aye?" Zhav grinned, tail writhing in the grass. "An' y'managed to stay on it, after all that? Tha's impressive. Clan Karahli ain' gotta worry 'bout nothin' with you 'roun', aye?"

Zihre Karahli: "Aye!" Zihre beamed a smile and kept herself leaned against Zhav, ears drooping the tiniest of bit. ".. Ain' got nothin' t'worry 'bout with -ye'- 'round."

Zhav Karahli: "Well aye, no. An' i'm gon' be 'roun' fer a good while longer yet, aye?" Another ruffle of her hair with her fingertips. "...S'the plan, anyhow! Who knows! When th'time comes, maybe you'll be an even better Warmaiden'n me, eh?"

Zihre Karahli: "Aye." She nodded, smiling at the ruffle. ".. Better than ye'? I doubt it. 'S quite th'shoes t'fill."

Zhav Karahli: "Aye, well, y'bein' -trained- by me, yeah? What're you sayin'? I ain' good at trainin'?"

You smirk confidently at Zihre Karahli.

Zihre Karahli: ".. 'M sayin' I still got a lot t'learn!"

Zhav Karahli: "Aye! An' you're absorbin' knowledge like a sponge, so i ain' too worried!" Zhav laughs, grinning. "Y'll be a fine Warmaiden one sun, Zihre. Ain' no doubt 'bout it!"

Zihre Karahli: "-- Sponge..." She snickered. "I'll do m'very best t'keep up t'standard."

Zihre Karahli grins madly at you.

Zhav Karahli: "Aye. -Sponge-." Zhav gives her another embrace, reluctant to let go. "Aye, i know y'will. Ain' think've no one better y'fill m'shoes when th'time comes." Another ruffle sees her slowly, reluctantly release her. "...S'y'namesday soon. Yeah?"

Zihre Karahli pushed herself into Zhav's embrace a little further, content to remain right where she is. ".. Aye. It is."

Zhav Karahli slowly brushes the hair from her face. Arms that moved away return in short order, needing little convincing to remain. "...Y'doin' okay?"

...Know it’s gon’ be ‘ard f’her. She’s got a twin.

Celebratin’ almos’ every cycle, only t’suddenly... Not?

...An’ considerin’ th’circumstances...

...Aye.

Aye, i’ll think’ve somethin’.

Zihre Karahli: ".. I will be. Just.. sucks t'know 's a shared sun.. 'N I ain' gettin' t'share it with 'im." Her ears drooped and a slow exhale of a sigh left her, her head leaning back to press against Zhav's shoulder. ".. I'll be okay."

Zhav Karahli: "Ain' got no doubt that y'll be alright, Zihre." She combs at her hair with her fingertips with a frown. "...He still lives in th'Shroud, y'reckon?"

Zihre Karahli: ".. Probably. Don't think he would'a left th'clan."

Zhav Karahli: "...We'll think've somethin'." Zhav murmurs. "...I know it won' be th'easiest sun. An' that's okay, aye? But you got us. Y'got th'Clan. Y'got me."

Zihre Karahli smiled faintly, nudging her head against Zhav's shoulder. ".. I know, but 's nice t'hear eitherway.. Thank ye', Zhav."

Zhav Karahli: " 'course." Zhav responds with a similar note of affection. "...Hard suns f'us all, soon." Another pause, and a murmur. "...S'hard t'believe it's been eight cycles."

Zihre Karahli: ".. Seven since I left m'first clan." She paused, ears shifting. ".. Three since I officially became a Karahli?"

Zhav Karahli: "...Somethin' like. Feels longer, somehow, even if i know it ain'." Zhav slowly tilts her ears in Zihre's direction. "Sihret ain' never make so many good decisions. But she did wit' you."

Zihre Karahli grins madly at you.

Zihre Karahli: "'M a good exception."

Zhav Karahli: "Th' -best- exception." Zhav grins back, nudging her head. "...T'think y'were almost with Nhar! Y'reckon she's still salty 'bout th'whole ordeal? ...I do."

Zihre Karahli grins, returning a gentle nudge. "Well, 'm happy y'snatched me up! .. 'N aye, she's probably still mad 'bout it.. Seems like she holds grudges, sometimes."

Zhav Karahli: "She's been holdin' a grudge 'gains me since 'fore i can' remember! 'Zhav, y'too loud!' 'Zhav, y'ain' hunt with an axe!' -- Pff! I been gettin' by jus' fine! An' i pick up 'er slack from time t'time. She's jus' got better aim, s'all."

Zihre Karahli grins madly at you.

Zihre Karahli: "Y'can hunt with axes.. 'S just a lil messier than with a bow."

Zhav Karahli: "Aye! Y'jus' gotta be -fast-! I'd love t'see 'er chop down a tree wit' that bow've hers. An' y'ain' need arrows fer an axe."

You smirk confidently at Zihre Karahli.

Zihre Karahli: ".. Axes are more fun."

Zihre Karahli grins madly at you.

Zhav Karahli: "Aye! An' look much more intimidatin'. Uh..."

Zhav Karahli: "'less they're made've ice."

Zhav Karahli: "...Or y'can jus' have an axe made've ice like Sayuri."

Zihre Karahli: "... Yep."

Zihre Karahli: ".. Sounds fuckin' cold t'hold."

Zhav Karahli: "...Y'think she feels it? Or no? I ain' tell. Most've th'time she's tryin' t'ignore what i'm sayin' an' focus on what i'm doin', unless it's like, direct advice. Bexy trains wit' her a bunch. In Coerthas mostly."

Zhav Karahli: "...Maybe we could all train t'gether one sun."

Zhav Karahli: "--Maybe Bexy'd finally spar me, then!"

Zihre Karahli: ".. If she does, she's doin' a good job no' showin' it!" She snickered. ".. Wha'? Bexy 'n Sayuri 'gainst ye' 'n me?"

Zhav Karahli: "---Aye!" Zhav grins. But even she looks hesitant after a moment. "...Uh. Maybe. When we've got like... Insulation're somethin'."

Zihre Karahli laughs at you.

Zihre Karahli: ".. I'd be fine losin' tha' figh'."

Zhav Karahli: "...Aye! I mean, s'pretty even now, aye? I... Ain' ever known anyone t'spar Bexy. But s'kinda hard wit' archery, aye?"

Zhav Karahli: "...Ain' real fair if she's hit me like ten times an' i ain' even closed th'gap."

Zihre Karahli: "T'be honest, Sayuri migh' kick m'ass more often if she didn' hold back, ain' ever usin' her ice in sparrin'.. But 's a fair figh' withou' it! 'N.. yeah. I didn' really spar folks when I had a bow, either."

Zhav Karahli: "I mean... S'dangerous, i guess. S'one thing t'be comin' home sore from trainin'. S'another t'come home actively wounded."

Zhav Karahli: "I jus' think she's tryin' not t'tire herself out so much, y'know? Boyfrien' waitin' at home an' all."

Zihre Karahli makes a straight face at you.

Zihre Karahli: ".. Don't wanna know wha' she 'n th'bunboy get up t'."

Zhav Karahli: "Ain' know."

Zhav Karahli: "...Could probably guess, though."

Zihre Karahli: "... Nope. Don't wanna hear it!"

You burst out laughing at Zihre Karahli.

Zhav Karahli: "---He's pretty, but ain' my type. I like m'men quiet an' bookish, sure! But i also like 'em t'hold a conversation!"

Zhav Karahli: "An' not give me weird looks when i try an' talk t'em, in general."

Zihre Karahli: "I talked t'him!"

Zihre Karahli: "... When Sayuri fuckin' faceplanted th' floor."

Zhav Karahli: "....I ain' even think how that conversation'd go down. What'd you say? Special delivery? 'ey, y'girlfriend jus' ate shite in th'middle've th'corridor?"

Zihre Karahli: ".. More like.. 'Ey, y'girlfriend 's in th' infirmary bein' seen t'because she decided t'take a nap on th' floor."

Zihre Karahli: ".. Was when tha' shite went on 'n folks disappeared."

Zhav Karahli: "...Aye... I remember. Ain' no moment've peace f'long, there. But... Y'know. They were there f'us when we needed 'em, too. S'kinda like a mutual agreement. An alliance've sorts."

Zihre Karahli nods to you.

Zihre Karahli: "I'll gladly help 'em, tha' shite sure as fuck weren' fun, though.." She grimaced. ".. Damn plant Viera."

Zhav Karahli: "Aye..." Zhav grimaces at the mere memory of it, tugging Zihre closer with a sigh. "...Leas' you ain' have t'go through it alone. Ain' ever wanna eat nothin' floral again though. M'lavender biscuits ain' taste th'same since."

Zihre Karahli leans herself further into Zhav at the tug. "..Still feel bad y'got sick with it, too.. 'N I ain' ever want 'nother flower in m'mouth.."

Zhav Karahli: "...I'll eat 'em again one sun. Jus'... Not yet." Zhav gives Zihre another squeeze, before releasing her to gather the bowls. "C'mon, we should head back. Th'hunt's probably back, an' i've gotta figure out somethin' t'cook with it. Y'can help, if y'want!"

Zihre Karahli pouted slightly at being released, offering Zhav a final nudge with her head before scooting out of her lap. "Yeah! I'd like tha'." She beamed a smile, reaching for the handle of her axe.

Zhav Karahli: "Aye! C'mon then -- Maybe it's time t'start teachin' y'how t'cook boar stew..." Zhav grins, scooping up the bowls, and wandering deeper into the forest.

...S’nice t’think, that i’ve got more’n jus’ m’expertise in weapons an’ th’like t’pass on.

Ideals, an’ how t’treat folk, an’ cookin’... An’ all th’other lil’bit’sve advice an’ info what comes wit’ a life.

I look forward t’teachin’ ‘er!

[umbralsound-xiv]

😘 - For: Zhav, About: Sayuri!

Them as a person : "She's pretty headstrong, y'know? Wanted me t'teach 'er wit' th'axe, an' now it's 'ow w'mostly know eachother! Y'know, asides bumpin' into eachother in th'company house every so often. I like 'er!"

Level of attractiveness : "Look, i try not t'think about that too much t'folk i'm trainin'. Tends t'get distractin', aye? But now i'm thinkin' 'bout it..." Zhav slowly rocks her head to one side, as a grin forms at her lips. "Oh aye... I would. She's pretty, an' i reckon could kick m'arse proper if she ain' hold back! An' them scars!" Zhav sighs pleasedly, clearly lost in thought.

What annoys them most : "I ain' sayin' she's got anger issues -exactly-, but she does seem t'get pretty irritable pretty quickly, aye? Needs t'lighten up a lil, 'm only teasin'!"

What they like the most : "She's a good student! Dilligent t'turnin' up f'lessons, an' even when knocked on 'er arse fer th'umpteenth time still gets up t'fight, over an' over. Ain' give up easy! I 'ppreciate it!"

What they’d do if they were locked in a closet together for 4 hours : "...I'd probably annoy 'er senseless. A closet ain' exactly prime trainin' space, so that's out've th'question! So, eh... Probably talkin'. I ain' know! It'd be fun t'talk t'her, i reckon!"

Overall opinion : "I like 'er! I mean, she's a nice 'nough lass, holds th'things she considers dear close t'her chest. Can respect that!"

Rating : High! -- A good student, and a saint for putting up with Zhav's endless teasing!

[umbralsound-xiv]

😱 = What does your character fear most in their world? - For the Ultimate Mom (Zhav!)

"Shite, that's a bit've a rough question? Y'ain't wantin' t'ask me somethin' lighthearted're nothin'? No?"

The Warmaiden rolls her shoulders into a shrug, glancing up with her single violet eye.

"It'd probably be a pretty easy thing t'say i was afraid've fire, but... Y'know? Couple cycles're so ago, that were more true'n it is now. Fire ain' bad if it's used proper, but still scary shite if y'let it burn wild. Considerin' th'Blaze, it makes sense f'me t'be a bit more wary. But i ain' afraid've it like i used t'be.

Now... I guess i'm scared've losing what i got. I lost enough, aye? I ain' wanna lose anymore. I ain' ever wanna feel that again. If someone took th'rest've th'Karahli? Someone tried t'hurt us?

...Aye, yeah, you 'bout t'see this friendly face drop real fuckin' quick, you mark m'words."

[umbralsound-xiv]

==Character Portraits==

Bexy | Mist Vhal’ra | Eir Mhira | Zhav Daidukul | Od

OOC: A collection of my beans! I’ve been wanting to take character portraits of them that i like enough to show for some time, but i’ve only just gotten around to it!

...Yeah, i could have put them 3x3, but then i’m left with an odd number and i don’t like that...

[umbralsound-xiv]

23. Is your character more physically or emotionally strong? Why is this? - For Zhav!

"I mean, both? Both's an answer, aye?"

The Keeper plucks her shoulders into a shrug, rolling her single eye.

"...Alright, i guess if i've gotta pick one've 'em. I reckon i'm more strong physically, aye? I mean, i'm a Warmaiden! There's a certain degree've... Y'know. Physicality involved in bein' a Warmaiden, whether it's forgin' shite or trainin' folk, or jus' generally leadin' th'charge when it comes t'combat!

...That's not t'say i ain' emotionally strong, either. I mean, i've been through m'fair share've shite an'... Handled it best i could, considerin' th'circumstances. Warmaiden're no, i'm still a fuckin' person, an' i'm allowed t'cry an' ask fer a couple've fuckin' bells t'get m'head back t'where i need it t'be. Look-- Y'get t'my age, y'see some shite, aye?

Ain' no shame in 'ow it's handled. But aye, since y'makin' me pick...

Reckon i'm stronger in th'body than in th'heart, aye?"

[umbralsound-xiv]

“Took Zirhe t’watch over Bexy wit’ me... She were mostly sleepin’, as was expected, so when Mist came t’take over we left th’infirmary to a... Fairly full house’ve folk!

...Mostly Miqo’te, too, which were unusual. Well, ain’ never been one f’not meetin’ new faces, so we bundled upstairs an’ got t’sayin’ our hellos! Few folk we didn’ manage t’speak to, but... I reckon there’ll be time enough some other time, aye?

There was a lass; Alari? Seemed kinda shy, withdrawn like an’... Well, after learnin’ more, i couldn’ ‘elp m’self. She ain’ got no one, she says. No family, no clan. Well, i weren’ gonna let ‘er think like that.

...Everyone’s got someone. An’ i tol’ her if she ever needed anythin’, she could come t’me. I wager she’s in ‘er teens if not a cycle’re so older, an’ she jus’-- Look, i jus’ couldn’t leave ‘er t’think like that, aye? She made mention’ve wantin’ t’get better at archery, so i nudged ‘er in Bexy’s direction f’when she’s better.

...She’ll train ‘er. Probably, aye? I’ll ask her.

Only fella that weren’t a Miqo’te in th’room seemed like a nice sort, too. Spends plenty’ve time cookin’ fer all th’mouths t’feed, an’ seems t’enjoy it plenty, too. Kinda quiet, bit different from most’ve th’other Xaela i’ve met.

Moe dropped by not lon’ after, an’ we caught up after what’d probably been moons! She’s doin’ good, i kept ‘er posted about Clan Karahli an’ everythin’ else, an’ tol’ her about Zihre.

...Speakin’ of... I wonder what she caught t’cook...

I’ll go fin’ out.”