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As a sister of the Cypress Sisterhood, Aedea had many missions. She had to spread the word of Artemis and protect women, and she did so gladly, but her favorite kind of mission were the ones in which she took her bow, her dogs and was released into the wilderness to hunt what the sisters needed.
She hunted for her food. She slept under the stars. She bathed on springs and creeks. That was how she preferred to live, and in the wilderness of Colchis – and everywhere, really – alongside her pack, she felt truly at home.
As she stalked with bow in hand through the woods at the outskirts of the Capitol of Midas, covered in mud to mask her scent, and with Baklava following her close behind, she was prepared for everything. Right now she was hoping to catch deer, though she would be happy with anything. She just hoped to not to run with a bear, but she knew she couldn’t get surprised… she would hunt her prey and bring it to the camp, where she had everything she had gotten so far in the last few days. She hoped to do it soon, though… there was a rabbit stew she made earlier waiting for her. She was sure no animal or people would get it, too: the rest of her dogs were guarding it.
The glimpse of something dashing at her side made her attention focus. Baklava ran towards something, barking, no doubt with her nose on track for something. She ran as she stalked, following the wolfdog towards the prey… it must be hurt, she realized, for her to react like that, but this reminded her of the time when she went and pursued that noble because he had food on his bag…
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This character is currently a work in progress.
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As a sister of the Cypress Sisterhood, Aedea had many missions. She had to spread the word of Artemis and protect women, and she did so gladly, but her favorite kind of mission were the ones in which she took her bow, her dogs and was released into the wilderness to hunt what the sisters needed.
She hunted for her food. She slept under the stars. She bathed on springs and creeks. That was how she preferred to live, and in the wilderness of Colchis – and everywhere, really – alongside her pack, she felt truly at home.
As she stalked with bow in hand through the woods at the outskirts of the Capitol of Midas, covered in mud to mask her scent, and with Baklava following her close behind, she was prepared for everything. Right now she was hoping to catch deer, though she would be happy with anything. She just hoped to not to run with a bear, but she knew she couldn’t get surprised… she would hunt her prey and bring it to the camp, where she had everything she had gotten so far in the last few days. She hoped to do it soon, though… there was a rabbit stew she made earlier waiting for her. She was sure no animal or people would get it, too: the rest of her dogs were guarding it.
The glimpse of something dashing at her side made her attention focus. Baklava ran towards something, barking, no doubt with her nose on track for something. She ran as she stalked, following the wolfdog towards the prey… it must be hurt, she realized, for her to react like that, but this reminded her of the time when she went and pursued that noble because he had food on his bag…
As a sister of the Cypress Sisterhood, Aedea had many missions. She had to spread the word of Artemis and protect women, and she did so gladly, but her favorite kind of mission were the ones in which she took her bow, her dogs and was released into the wilderness to hunt what the sisters needed.
She hunted for her food. She slept under the stars. She bathed on springs and creeks. That was how she preferred to live, and in the wilderness of Colchis – and everywhere, really – alongside her pack, she felt truly at home.
As she stalked with bow in hand through the woods at the outskirts of the Capitol of Midas, covered in mud to mask her scent, and with Baklava following her close behind, she was prepared for everything. Right now she was hoping to catch deer, though she would be happy with anything. She just hoped to not to run with a bear, but she knew she couldn’t get surprised… she would hunt her prey and bring it to the camp, where she had everything she had gotten so far in the last few days. She hoped to do it soon, though… there was a rabbit stew she made earlier waiting for her. She was sure no animal or people would get it, too: the rest of her dogs were guarding it.
The glimpse of something dashing at her side made her attention focus. Baklava ran towards something, barking, no doubt with her nose on track for something. She ran as she stalked, following the wolfdog towards the prey… it must be hurt, she realized, for her to react like that, but this reminded her of the time when she went and pursued that noble because he had food on his bag…
Akhmad's loyalty to the Sariqas, while never spoken, had always been something of a cemented fact. Unshakeable and undoubtable. At least for the last half a decade. Prior to that, his silence had made it hard for anyone to trust his intentions in becoming one with the woodwork that formulated the Sariqas cult. Yet, his longevity within their group had slowly started to prove the point of his desires. He had wished to stay as one of them and live as a part of their brethren. No-one knew why and there was no sense in asking. For even though Akhmad was able to make his words clear through hands and gestures, he had never dined to answer that particular question.
Despite such loyalties, however, Akhmad was an introvert. He disliked the busy noise and bustle of the group to which he was loyal and preferred singular missions of thievery or tasks that he could complete in the company of only one or two. He was often the one to stay up at night and keep watch whilst the others slept, enjoying their company without the need for interaction. When such a thing was not possible and all was just a little too hectic for his solitary temperament, however, Akhmad took refuge away from his brotherhood.
Be it in an abandoned building nearby, a quiet alley where he could just lean and think, or even the forests - so unusual from his homeland in the east - where he might climb into a high point of the nearest, tallest tree and seek solace in its branches. Akhmad enjoyed the moment's reprieve from chatty company.
And he was rarely disturbed when he left on such ventures. seeking a few hours of alone time.
A man who bathed more than someone hiding their identity but be supposed to and who rarely ate meat in order to ensure his sweat did not smell, he was near invisible to all senses most of the time.
Unfortunately, this time, it was not to be.
Most likely attracted to the cut across his wrist that Akhmad was in the midst of treating, high in the branches of an old oak, there came the yapping of a dog that, within a few moments bounded from the foliage to the east of Akhmad's position and began sniffing around the area. It took only a few seconds for the canine to spot the source of the smell of iron and decay that blood often emitted and he quickly braced his front paws upon the trunk of the tree in order to howl up towards his quarry. Akhmad felt his lip twist upwards in annoyance at the disturbance and crouched upon the tree branch on which he had been lounging and palmed one of his knives. The blade's metal glinted in the moonlight. If the dog was rabid, he would have the slay the thing before he could descend from the tree and head back to his group in a few hours. And he wasn't about to let some mangy animal keep him from his mission...
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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Akhmad's loyalty to the Sariqas, while never spoken, had always been something of a cemented fact. Unshakeable and undoubtable. At least for the last half a decade. Prior to that, his silence had made it hard for anyone to trust his intentions in becoming one with the woodwork that formulated the Sariqas cult. Yet, his longevity within their group had slowly started to prove the point of his desires. He had wished to stay as one of them and live as a part of their brethren. No-one knew why and there was no sense in asking. For even though Akhmad was able to make his words clear through hands and gestures, he had never dined to answer that particular question.
Despite such loyalties, however, Akhmad was an introvert. He disliked the busy noise and bustle of the group to which he was loyal and preferred singular missions of thievery or tasks that he could complete in the company of only one or two. He was often the one to stay up at night and keep watch whilst the others slept, enjoying their company without the need for interaction. When such a thing was not possible and all was just a little too hectic for his solitary temperament, however, Akhmad took refuge away from his brotherhood.
Be it in an abandoned building nearby, a quiet alley where he could just lean and think, or even the forests - so unusual from his homeland in the east - where he might climb into a high point of the nearest, tallest tree and seek solace in its branches. Akhmad enjoyed the moment's reprieve from chatty company.
And he was rarely disturbed when he left on such ventures. seeking a few hours of alone time.
A man who bathed more than someone hiding their identity but be supposed to and who rarely ate meat in order to ensure his sweat did not smell, he was near invisible to all senses most of the time.
Unfortunately, this time, it was not to be.
Most likely attracted to the cut across his wrist that Akhmad was in the midst of treating, high in the branches of an old oak, there came the yapping of a dog that, within a few moments bounded from the foliage to the east of Akhmad's position and began sniffing around the area. It took only a few seconds for the canine to spot the source of the smell of iron and decay that blood often emitted and he quickly braced his front paws upon the trunk of the tree in order to howl up towards his quarry. Akhmad felt his lip twist upwards in annoyance at the disturbance and crouched upon the tree branch on which he had been lounging and palmed one of his knives. The blade's metal glinted in the moonlight. If the dog was rabid, he would have the slay the thing before he could descend from the tree and head back to his group in a few hours. And he wasn't about to let some mangy animal keep him from his mission...
Akhmad's loyalty to the Sariqas, while never spoken, had always been something of a cemented fact. Unshakeable and undoubtable. At least for the last half a decade. Prior to that, his silence had made it hard for anyone to trust his intentions in becoming one with the woodwork that formulated the Sariqas cult. Yet, his longevity within their group had slowly started to prove the point of his desires. He had wished to stay as one of them and live as a part of their brethren. No-one knew why and there was no sense in asking. For even though Akhmad was able to make his words clear through hands and gestures, he had never dined to answer that particular question.
Despite such loyalties, however, Akhmad was an introvert. He disliked the busy noise and bustle of the group to which he was loyal and preferred singular missions of thievery or tasks that he could complete in the company of only one or two. He was often the one to stay up at night and keep watch whilst the others slept, enjoying their company without the need for interaction. When such a thing was not possible and all was just a little too hectic for his solitary temperament, however, Akhmad took refuge away from his brotherhood.
Be it in an abandoned building nearby, a quiet alley where he could just lean and think, or even the forests - so unusual from his homeland in the east - where he might climb into a high point of the nearest, tallest tree and seek solace in its branches. Akhmad enjoyed the moment's reprieve from chatty company.
And he was rarely disturbed when he left on such ventures. seeking a few hours of alone time.
A man who bathed more than someone hiding their identity but be supposed to and who rarely ate meat in order to ensure his sweat did not smell, he was near invisible to all senses most of the time.
Unfortunately, this time, it was not to be.
Most likely attracted to the cut across his wrist that Akhmad was in the midst of treating, high in the branches of an old oak, there came the yapping of a dog that, within a few moments bounded from the foliage to the east of Akhmad's position and began sniffing around the area. It took only a few seconds for the canine to spot the source of the smell of iron and decay that blood often emitted and he quickly braced his front paws upon the trunk of the tree in order to howl up towards his quarry. Akhmad felt his lip twist upwards in annoyance at the disturbance and crouched upon the tree branch on which he had been lounging and palmed one of his knives. The blade's metal glinted in the moonlight. If the dog was rabid, he would have the slay the thing before he could descend from the tree and head back to his group in a few hours. And he wasn't about to let some mangy animal keep him from his mission...
Aedea ran behind the wolfdog with her bow, ready to let loose an arrow to the target. It must have been already injured for Baklava to detect it. While Aedea preferred to hunt healthy prey, just to put her skills to the maximum, hunting an injured prey seemed to be more convenient most of the time. Their meat would be the same, at the end of the day, and she was sure Artemis would smile upon her for putting a poor beast out of its misery.
The ferocious dog, who wore an spiked collar just like her mistress – they both wore it to defend their throats against wolf attacks – went towards a tree and barked wildly at something on top. At a safe distance, Aedea tensed her bow, ready to let loose an arrow, but she caught that the one on top was not an animal, but a person. Memories of Lord Silanos returned to her mind, and realized that her damn dog didn’t learn her lesson.
Aedea lowered her bow and approached the tree at a brisk pace, one of someone that knew how to not to trip on roots, stones or odd ground. She grabbed Baklava’s neck fur with her free hand and forced her to look at her, baring her teeth, and reminding her who was the alpha in their pack. The dog obeyed and stopped barking, and lowered her head backing down.
The priestess looked up at the man, spotting the glimpse of a knife on his hand, no doubt to defend himself from the hound. She also noticed that he dressed oddly – he had a fashion that she had seen nowhere in Greece, and he was also covered from head to toe, except for his eyes. But she was not going to judge; people judged her all the time for her appearance and her speech.
The priestess waved at the man from bellow, trying to make her know that everything was safe and he could get down.
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This character is currently a work in progress.
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Aedea ran behind the wolfdog with her bow, ready to let loose an arrow to the target. It must have been already injured for Baklava to detect it. While Aedea preferred to hunt healthy prey, just to put her skills to the maximum, hunting an injured prey seemed to be more convenient most of the time. Their meat would be the same, at the end of the day, and she was sure Artemis would smile upon her for putting a poor beast out of its misery.
The ferocious dog, who wore an spiked collar just like her mistress – they both wore it to defend their throats against wolf attacks – went towards a tree and barked wildly at something on top. At a safe distance, Aedea tensed her bow, ready to let loose an arrow, but she caught that the one on top was not an animal, but a person. Memories of Lord Silanos returned to her mind, and realized that her damn dog didn’t learn her lesson.
Aedea lowered her bow and approached the tree at a brisk pace, one of someone that knew how to not to trip on roots, stones or odd ground. She grabbed Baklava’s neck fur with her free hand and forced her to look at her, baring her teeth, and reminding her who was the alpha in their pack. The dog obeyed and stopped barking, and lowered her head backing down.
The priestess looked up at the man, spotting the glimpse of a knife on his hand, no doubt to defend himself from the hound. She also noticed that he dressed oddly – he had a fashion that she had seen nowhere in Greece, and he was also covered from head to toe, except for his eyes. But she was not going to judge; people judged her all the time for her appearance and her speech.
The priestess waved at the man from bellow, trying to make her know that everything was safe and he could get down.
Aedea ran behind the wolfdog with her bow, ready to let loose an arrow to the target. It must have been already injured for Baklava to detect it. While Aedea preferred to hunt healthy prey, just to put her skills to the maximum, hunting an injured prey seemed to be more convenient most of the time. Their meat would be the same, at the end of the day, and she was sure Artemis would smile upon her for putting a poor beast out of its misery.
The ferocious dog, who wore an spiked collar just like her mistress – they both wore it to defend their throats against wolf attacks – went towards a tree and barked wildly at something on top. At a safe distance, Aedea tensed her bow, ready to let loose an arrow, but she caught that the one on top was not an animal, but a person. Memories of Lord Silanos returned to her mind, and realized that her damn dog didn’t learn her lesson.
Aedea lowered her bow and approached the tree at a brisk pace, one of someone that knew how to not to trip on roots, stones or odd ground. She grabbed Baklava’s neck fur with her free hand and forced her to look at her, baring her teeth, and reminding her who was the alpha in their pack. The dog obeyed and stopped barking, and lowered her head backing down.
The priestess looked up at the man, spotting the glimpse of a knife on his hand, no doubt to defend himself from the hound. She also noticed that he dressed oddly – he had a fashion that she had seen nowhere in Greece, and he was also covered from head to toe, except for his eyes. But she was not going to judge; people judged her all the time for her appearance and her speech.
The priestess waved at the man from bellow, trying to make her know that everything was safe and he could get down.
Akhmad's eyes narrowed, his attention diverted when a woman came through the trees after the dog. In her hand was a bow, string tense and arrow nooked ready for attack if such a threat was discovered. His own sense of danger sparked when he noted the angle of the weapon and the way in which it was directed towards him, up into the tree. His muscles tensed, his feet shifting on the branch, so that he would be ready to slip his body weight and move from side to side depending on when the arrow would loose and how close it would be to his person. The woman looked comfortable enough with the weapon to likely be a reasonable shot.
When she lowered her bow, Akhmad did not lower his guard. Doing so in such a situation - assuming that a lack of threat in others meant safety to oneself - was what got people killed. And Akhmad was far too experienced and intelligent in the ways of danger to let such a novice mistake escape him.
Watching as the dog was pulled back and the young woman growled down at the animal, sending it into a phase of subservience, Akhmad's brow raised in curiosity over the exchange. Not one to like animals - to eat or to care for, Akhmad had never seen a human behave so upon their level. He had seen men command horses and dogs, and charmers force snakes to obey the sounds of their flutes, but he had never seen a human behave as an animal in order to make their instructions known.
Realising that she was outside of the normal, Akhmad's muscles remained tense even more. Those who operated outside the norm of human society were unlikely to behave as one expected. Which meant there were no rules and no chances to correct mistakes. Akhmad would need to have his full attention upon the woman at all times.
When she reached up and gestured with her hand, encouraging him down from the tree, Akhmad made the calculated assumption that he would be able to defend himself better from a position on the ground than he would as a sitting duck in a tree. And so, he made the leap to the earth. Deliberately, he landed with his feet super close to the young woman, forcing her to stumble a few steps backwards and give him some space away from her and her dog or risk him being in her personal sphere.
Glancing at the dog that still seemed decidedly unfriendly towards him, Akhmad pointed to the creature, then to himself before raising the knife he held in his other hand. He used no words but his intention was clear. If your dog attacks me, he feels my blade...
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This character is currently a work in progress.
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Akhmad's eyes narrowed, his attention diverted when a woman came through the trees after the dog. In her hand was a bow, string tense and arrow nooked ready for attack if such a threat was discovered. His own sense of danger sparked when he noted the angle of the weapon and the way in which it was directed towards him, up into the tree. His muscles tensed, his feet shifting on the branch, so that he would be ready to slip his body weight and move from side to side depending on when the arrow would loose and how close it would be to his person. The woman looked comfortable enough with the weapon to likely be a reasonable shot.
When she lowered her bow, Akhmad did not lower his guard. Doing so in such a situation - assuming that a lack of threat in others meant safety to oneself - was what got people killed. And Akhmad was far too experienced and intelligent in the ways of danger to let such a novice mistake escape him.
Watching as the dog was pulled back and the young woman growled down at the animal, sending it into a phase of subservience, Akhmad's brow raised in curiosity over the exchange. Not one to like animals - to eat or to care for, Akhmad had never seen a human behave so upon their level. He had seen men command horses and dogs, and charmers force snakes to obey the sounds of their flutes, but he had never seen a human behave as an animal in order to make their instructions known.
Realising that she was outside of the normal, Akhmad's muscles remained tense even more. Those who operated outside the norm of human society were unlikely to behave as one expected. Which meant there were no rules and no chances to correct mistakes. Akhmad would need to have his full attention upon the woman at all times.
When she reached up and gestured with her hand, encouraging him down from the tree, Akhmad made the calculated assumption that he would be able to defend himself better from a position on the ground than he would as a sitting duck in a tree. And so, he made the leap to the earth. Deliberately, he landed with his feet super close to the young woman, forcing her to stumble a few steps backwards and give him some space away from her and her dog or risk him being in her personal sphere.
Glancing at the dog that still seemed decidedly unfriendly towards him, Akhmad pointed to the creature, then to himself before raising the knife he held in his other hand. He used no words but his intention was clear. If your dog attacks me, he feels my blade...
Akhmad's eyes narrowed, his attention diverted when a woman came through the trees after the dog. In her hand was a bow, string tense and arrow nooked ready for attack if such a threat was discovered. His own sense of danger sparked when he noted the angle of the weapon and the way in which it was directed towards him, up into the tree. His muscles tensed, his feet shifting on the branch, so that he would be ready to slip his body weight and move from side to side depending on when the arrow would loose and how close it would be to his person. The woman looked comfortable enough with the weapon to likely be a reasonable shot.
When she lowered her bow, Akhmad did not lower his guard. Doing so in such a situation - assuming that a lack of threat in others meant safety to oneself - was what got people killed. And Akhmad was far too experienced and intelligent in the ways of danger to let such a novice mistake escape him.
Watching as the dog was pulled back and the young woman growled down at the animal, sending it into a phase of subservience, Akhmad's brow raised in curiosity over the exchange. Not one to like animals - to eat or to care for, Akhmad had never seen a human behave so upon their level. He had seen men command horses and dogs, and charmers force snakes to obey the sounds of their flutes, but he had never seen a human behave as an animal in order to make their instructions known.
Realising that she was outside of the normal, Akhmad's muscles remained tense even more. Those who operated outside the norm of human society were unlikely to behave as one expected. Which meant there were no rules and no chances to correct mistakes. Akhmad would need to have his full attention upon the woman at all times.
When she reached up and gestured with her hand, encouraging him down from the tree, Akhmad made the calculated assumption that he would be able to defend himself better from a position on the ground than he would as a sitting duck in a tree. And so, he made the leap to the earth. Deliberately, he landed with his feet super close to the young woman, forcing her to stumble a few steps backwards and give him some space away from her and her dog or risk him being in her personal sphere.
Glancing at the dog that still seemed decidedly unfriendly towards him, Akhmad pointed to the creature, then to himself before raising the knife he held in his other hand. He used no words but his intention was clear. If your dog attacks me, he feels my blade...
The man jumped off the tree, landing mere paces away from Aedea, forcing her to stumble. She was agile on her feet and didn’t fall, but she still had to step away a bit, dragging Baklava with her, since she was holding her by the scruff of her neck. Truth be told, she didn’t expect him to jump like that… he didn’t seem injured, either. Aedea was agile, but she didn’t think even her could jump like that.
His gesture was clear as water, and she nodded in understanding. She let go off Baklava’s neck, and gestured her to look at her mistress. She whistled, and pointed towards at spot several meters away. The dog trotted obediently towards the spot and sat, panting and looking at them patently.
Aedea gestured at Baklava with an open palm, with obvious meaning: she obeys me, don’t worry. She was the mistress of hounds, after all; she raised and trained her and her siblings, and they dared not to disobey the alpha.
The priestess noticed something from before: the man didn’t speak, at all. Not in Greek, not in any language… was he a mute, or didn’t want to speak a language she might not know? Either way, she decided to not to speak either, as she was aware that her speech was somewhat hard to understand to many people. It wouldn’t do to confuse the man even more.
Not knowing what to do with the man, she pondered… he didn’t seem like a hunter that could help her, so she decided to be hospitable. She pointed to her open mouth, then rubbed her belly, and shrugged. She was asking her if he wanted to eat, which was at least the polite thing to do.
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The man jumped off the tree, landing mere paces away from Aedea, forcing her to stumble. She was agile on her feet and didn’t fall, but she still had to step away a bit, dragging Baklava with her, since she was holding her by the scruff of her neck. Truth be told, she didn’t expect him to jump like that… he didn’t seem injured, either. Aedea was agile, but she didn’t think even her could jump like that.
His gesture was clear as water, and she nodded in understanding. She let go off Baklava’s neck, and gestured her to look at her mistress. She whistled, and pointed towards at spot several meters away. The dog trotted obediently towards the spot and sat, panting and looking at them patently.
Aedea gestured at Baklava with an open palm, with obvious meaning: she obeys me, don’t worry. She was the mistress of hounds, after all; she raised and trained her and her siblings, and they dared not to disobey the alpha.
The priestess noticed something from before: the man didn’t speak, at all. Not in Greek, not in any language… was he a mute, or didn’t want to speak a language she might not know? Either way, she decided to not to speak either, as she was aware that her speech was somewhat hard to understand to many people. It wouldn’t do to confuse the man even more.
Not knowing what to do with the man, she pondered… he didn’t seem like a hunter that could help her, so she decided to be hospitable. She pointed to her open mouth, then rubbed her belly, and shrugged. She was asking her if he wanted to eat, which was at least the polite thing to do.
The man jumped off the tree, landing mere paces away from Aedea, forcing her to stumble. She was agile on her feet and didn’t fall, but she still had to step away a bit, dragging Baklava with her, since she was holding her by the scruff of her neck. Truth be told, she didn’t expect him to jump like that… he didn’t seem injured, either. Aedea was agile, but she didn’t think even her could jump like that.
His gesture was clear as water, and she nodded in understanding. She let go off Baklava’s neck, and gestured her to look at her mistress. She whistled, and pointed towards at spot several meters away. The dog trotted obediently towards the spot and sat, panting and looking at them patently.
Aedea gestured at Baklava with an open palm, with obvious meaning: she obeys me, don’t worry. She was the mistress of hounds, after all; she raised and trained her and her siblings, and they dared not to disobey the alpha.
The priestess noticed something from before: the man didn’t speak, at all. Not in Greek, not in any language… was he a mute, or didn’t want to speak a language she might not know? Either way, she decided to not to speak either, as she was aware that her speech was somewhat hard to understand to many people. It wouldn’t do to confuse the man even more.
Not knowing what to do with the man, she pondered… he didn’t seem like a hunter that could help her, so she decided to be hospitable. She pointed to her open mouth, then rubbed her belly, and shrugged. She was asking her if he wanted to eat, which was at least the polite thing to do.
Akhmad had little intention of giving his time and efforts to a woman he did not know. He had no issue with dining with others but also no preference for doing so. Part of him was eager to disappear into the woods, revolt against the idea of social interaction and melt into the shadows of the trees. He could return back to his brethren, to his brotherhood, and dine there, or consider himself fasting for the evening and refuse to eat at all. All options were before him.
But the fact that the girl did not speak to him, was one of limited and mild curiosity. Was she a mute? Had she lost her tongue? Or was she simply mimicking his silence? And if so, why?
Frowning - the edge of his brows descending into view through the gap in his mask across his eyes - Akhmad watched the girl with a moment of interest and, when she implied that she was going to eat, allowed his lack of opinion to transmit into a lulling rise of his shoulders.
Fine... if she wished to eat...
With a quick gesture of the tip of his blade, Akhmad indicated for her to lead the way, for he knew that she was cooking nothing this close to his treetop perch. Else he would have smelt it. Instead, there had been only the scent of damp soil and fresh greenery, not to mention the turning expulsion of the leaves as summer faded into the fall months.
Following behind the girl but to the side, where she would be able to witness him in her peripheral vision, Akhmad trailed her steps but a few feet to her right. Despite moving through the foliage and in the brush of leaves and twigs, Akhmad made very little sound. The way in which he placed his feet and his weight was carefully calculated in the dusky darkness to ensure that he was so very quiet. The minute noises that he was forced to make - being a creature of flesh and blood - were curiously muffled below the padded wrappings of his boots... Like a ghost, he drifted through the woodland, following the woman with fiery hair.
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Akhmad had little intention of giving his time and efforts to a woman he did not know. He had no issue with dining with others but also no preference for doing so. Part of him was eager to disappear into the woods, revolt against the idea of social interaction and melt into the shadows of the trees. He could return back to his brethren, to his brotherhood, and dine there, or consider himself fasting for the evening and refuse to eat at all. All options were before him.
But the fact that the girl did not speak to him, was one of limited and mild curiosity. Was she a mute? Had she lost her tongue? Or was she simply mimicking his silence? And if so, why?
Frowning - the edge of his brows descending into view through the gap in his mask across his eyes - Akhmad watched the girl with a moment of interest and, when she implied that she was going to eat, allowed his lack of opinion to transmit into a lulling rise of his shoulders.
Fine... if she wished to eat...
With a quick gesture of the tip of his blade, Akhmad indicated for her to lead the way, for he knew that she was cooking nothing this close to his treetop perch. Else he would have smelt it. Instead, there had been only the scent of damp soil and fresh greenery, not to mention the turning expulsion of the leaves as summer faded into the fall months.
Following behind the girl but to the side, where she would be able to witness him in her peripheral vision, Akhmad trailed her steps but a few feet to her right. Despite moving through the foliage and in the brush of leaves and twigs, Akhmad made very little sound. The way in which he placed his feet and his weight was carefully calculated in the dusky darkness to ensure that he was so very quiet. The minute noises that he was forced to make - being a creature of flesh and blood - were curiously muffled below the padded wrappings of his boots... Like a ghost, he drifted through the woodland, following the woman with fiery hair.
Akhmad had little intention of giving his time and efforts to a woman he did not know. He had no issue with dining with others but also no preference for doing so. Part of him was eager to disappear into the woods, revolt against the idea of social interaction and melt into the shadows of the trees. He could return back to his brethren, to his brotherhood, and dine there, or consider himself fasting for the evening and refuse to eat at all. All options were before him.
But the fact that the girl did not speak to him, was one of limited and mild curiosity. Was she a mute? Had she lost her tongue? Or was she simply mimicking his silence? And if so, why?
Frowning - the edge of his brows descending into view through the gap in his mask across his eyes - Akhmad watched the girl with a moment of interest and, when she implied that she was going to eat, allowed his lack of opinion to transmit into a lulling rise of his shoulders.
Fine... if she wished to eat...
With a quick gesture of the tip of his blade, Akhmad indicated for her to lead the way, for he knew that she was cooking nothing this close to his treetop perch. Else he would have smelt it. Instead, there had been only the scent of damp soil and fresh greenery, not to mention the turning expulsion of the leaves as summer faded into the fall months.
Following behind the girl but to the side, where she would be able to witness him in her peripheral vision, Akhmad trailed her steps but a few feet to her right. Despite moving through the foliage and in the brush of leaves and twigs, Akhmad made very little sound. The way in which he placed his feet and his weight was carefully calculated in the dusky darkness to ensure that he was so very quiet. The minute noises that he was forced to make - being a creature of flesh and blood - were curiously muffled below the padded wrappings of his boots... Like a ghost, he drifted through the woodland, following the woman with fiery hair.
Only when the mysterious man lowered his brow, did Aedea learn that his hair was black, judging by his eyebrows. She judged than that would be as much as she would learn about his appearance in all their interactions. But again, she was not the one to judge how one dressed, or how much they choose to expose.
The man accepted her invitation, telling her without a sound to lead the way, and she offered a solemn nod. She turned around and began to walk, and when she passed by Baklava, she patted her thigh so the wolfdog would follow her. She did so without hesitation, and thus the three of them began to walk.
Aedea noticed the silence. The overly-clothed man was as silent as a mountain lion, and she could only notice he was there when she turned around to make sure he was following her, and because of the noises he made, that could have been any other animal rustling the foliage. The peculiar thing was that Aedea was silent as well – she knew when, where and how to step properly as to not to make a sound. It was the stride of a woodland hunter, one that knew how to lurk on a prey and strike in the correct time. Baklava also walked silently, being a trained dog. If they were to sneak up on someone, they would surely give that poor unfortunate soul the fright of a lifetime.
Aedea stopped in front of a bunch of thick foliage and fallen branches and wood. It was something that for most animals it was going to be hard to surpass, but for them it only took a bit of effort. The huntress nodded back at him and began to climb with agility, and the dog jumped gracefully. Then she continued walking through a clear pathway…
She ended up in her camp: a clearing in the middle of the woods, with a rack for skins at one side, a mat in another – Aedea preferred to slept under the night sky as opposed to using a tent - , and in the middle of it, a pot hanging from a support, over a low flame. The substance would smell pleasant if you were hungry. Around the camp, three more dogs lied around, but they raised their heads when their mistress appeared. For her, it was hallowed ground as she had blessed it before beginning her hunt…
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Only when the mysterious man lowered his brow, did Aedea learn that his hair was black, judging by his eyebrows. She judged than that would be as much as she would learn about his appearance in all their interactions. But again, she was not the one to judge how one dressed, or how much they choose to expose.
The man accepted her invitation, telling her without a sound to lead the way, and she offered a solemn nod. She turned around and began to walk, and when she passed by Baklava, she patted her thigh so the wolfdog would follow her. She did so without hesitation, and thus the three of them began to walk.
Aedea noticed the silence. The overly-clothed man was as silent as a mountain lion, and she could only notice he was there when she turned around to make sure he was following her, and because of the noises he made, that could have been any other animal rustling the foliage. The peculiar thing was that Aedea was silent as well – she knew when, where and how to step properly as to not to make a sound. It was the stride of a woodland hunter, one that knew how to lurk on a prey and strike in the correct time. Baklava also walked silently, being a trained dog. If they were to sneak up on someone, they would surely give that poor unfortunate soul the fright of a lifetime.
Aedea stopped in front of a bunch of thick foliage and fallen branches and wood. It was something that for most animals it was going to be hard to surpass, but for them it only took a bit of effort. The huntress nodded back at him and began to climb with agility, and the dog jumped gracefully. Then she continued walking through a clear pathway…
She ended up in her camp: a clearing in the middle of the woods, with a rack for skins at one side, a mat in another – Aedea preferred to slept under the night sky as opposed to using a tent - , and in the middle of it, a pot hanging from a support, over a low flame. The substance would smell pleasant if you were hungry. Around the camp, three more dogs lied around, but they raised their heads when their mistress appeared. For her, it was hallowed ground as she had blessed it before beginning her hunt…
Only when the mysterious man lowered his brow, did Aedea learn that his hair was black, judging by his eyebrows. She judged than that would be as much as she would learn about his appearance in all their interactions. But again, she was not the one to judge how one dressed, or how much they choose to expose.
The man accepted her invitation, telling her without a sound to lead the way, and she offered a solemn nod. She turned around and began to walk, and when she passed by Baklava, she patted her thigh so the wolfdog would follow her. She did so without hesitation, and thus the three of them began to walk.
Aedea noticed the silence. The overly-clothed man was as silent as a mountain lion, and she could only notice he was there when she turned around to make sure he was following her, and because of the noises he made, that could have been any other animal rustling the foliage. The peculiar thing was that Aedea was silent as well – she knew when, where and how to step properly as to not to make a sound. It was the stride of a woodland hunter, one that knew how to lurk on a prey and strike in the correct time. Baklava also walked silently, being a trained dog. If they were to sneak up on someone, they would surely give that poor unfortunate soul the fright of a lifetime.
Aedea stopped in front of a bunch of thick foliage and fallen branches and wood. It was something that for most animals it was going to be hard to surpass, but for them it only took a bit of effort. The huntress nodded back at him and began to climb with agility, and the dog jumped gracefully. Then she continued walking through a clear pathway…
She ended up in her camp: a clearing in the middle of the woods, with a rack for skins at one side, a mat in another – Aedea preferred to slept under the night sky as opposed to using a tent - , and in the middle of it, a pot hanging from a support, over a low flame. The substance would smell pleasant if you were hungry. Around the camp, three more dogs lied around, but they raised their heads when their mistress appeared. For her, it was hallowed ground as she had blessed it before beginning her hunt…
Akhmad followed the redhead's lead. Moving swiftly and silently through the bracken and undergrowth of the woodland, he followed her without concern for losing the way in the darkness. If he lost sight of her, he would be able to smell her. His sense of scent had been honed to a fine point over the years and whilst Aedea was able to hide her smell from the animals in the woods by her proximity to her creatures, Akhmad had only to follow the scent of dog to meet her pathway once more.
When they came to an overgrown patch that was mostly impassable, Aedea began to climb. Staying several steps back, Akhmad chose a tree instead and hurried up it like some kind of humanoid monkey. Clambering over one of the larger and sturdier branches, he then leapt over the growth to land, once more, a few steps to Aedea's right.
By the time she reached her little encampment, Akhmad had been about to turn and end their little jaunt. He wasn't interested in wandering miles into nowhere for a moment with a stranger, regardless of our curious her appearance and silence might be to him in that first union.
But then the light of flames could be seen through the brush and the flickering crackle of wood was a luring sound. Raised in a land that was hot all day long and all year round, the autumnal months of Greece had been a hit to his systems, despite the wrappings he wore at all times. The warmth of the flames drew him closer.
On one side of the little camp, near a stand of skins that had been cut from the flesh of hunted prey, sat a large rock, the kind that dotted this area of the mountainous woodland. Heading in that direction, Akhmad was take two quick steps that appeared to defy gravity and then spun to sit cross-legged upon the flattened top of the outcropping. Now a few feet above the ground and able to witness the camp for all that it was, Akhmad settled himself on the cool stone and turned his attention to watching Aedea as she went about preparing her food.
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Akhmad followed the redhead's lead. Moving swiftly and silently through the bracken and undergrowth of the woodland, he followed her without concern for losing the way in the darkness. If he lost sight of her, he would be able to smell her. His sense of scent had been honed to a fine point over the years and whilst Aedea was able to hide her smell from the animals in the woods by her proximity to her creatures, Akhmad had only to follow the scent of dog to meet her pathway once more.
When they came to an overgrown patch that was mostly impassable, Aedea began to climb. Staying several steps back, Akhmad chose a tree instead and hurried up it like some kind of humanoid monkey. Clambering over one of the larger and sturdier branches, he then leapt over the growth to land, once more, a few steps to Aedea's right.
By the time she reached her little encampment, Akhmad had been about to turn and end their little jaunt. He wasn't interested in wandering miles into nowhere for a moment with a stranger, regardless of our curious her appearance and silence might be to him in that first union.
But then the light of flames could be seen through the brush and the flickering crackle of wood was a luring sound. Raised in a land that was hot all day long and all year round, the autumnal months of Greece had been a hit to his systems, despite the wrappings he wore at all times. The warmth of the flames drew him closer.
On one side of the little camp, near a stand of skins that had been cut from the flesh of hunted prey, sat a large rock, the kind that dotted this area of the mountainous woodland. Heading in that direction, Akhmad was take two quick steps that appeared to defy gravity and then spun to sit cross-legged upon the flattened top of the outcropping. Now a few feet above the ground and able to witness the camp for all that it was, Akhmad settled himself on the cool stone and turned his attention to watching Aedea as she went about preparing her food.
Akhmad followed the redhead's lead. Moving swiftly and silently through the bracken and undergrowth of the woodland, he followed her without concern for losing the way in the darkness. If he lost sight of her, he would be able to smell her. His sense of scent had been honed to a fine point over the years and whilst Aedea was able to hide her smell from the animals in the woods by her proximity to her creatures, Akhmad had only to follow the scent of dog to meet her pathway once more.
When they came to an overgrown patch that was mostly impassable, Aedea began to climb. Staying several steps back, Akhmad chose a tree instead and hurried up it like some kind of humanoid monkey. Clambering over one of the larger and sturdier branches, he then leapt over the growth to land, once more, a few steps to Aedea's right.
By the time she reached her little encampment, Akhmad had been about to turn and end their little jaunt. He wasn't interested in wandering miles into nowhere for a moment with a stranger, regardless of our curious her appearance and silence might be to him in that first union.
But then the light of flames could be seen through the brush and the flickering crackle of wood was a luring sound. Raised in a land that was hot all day long and all year round, the autumnal months of Greece had been a hit to his systems, despite the wrappings he wore at all times. The warmth of the flames drew him closer.
On one side of the little camp, near a stand of skins that had been cut from the flesh of hunted prey, sat a large rock, the kind that dotted this area of the mountainous woodland. Heading in that direction, Akhmad was take two quick steps that appeared to defy gravity and then spun to sit cross-legged upon the flattened top of the outcropping. Now a few feet above the ground and able to witness the camp for all that it was, Akhmad settled himself on the cool stone and turned his attention to watching Aedea as she went about preparing her food.
Aedea was quite amazed by the overly-clothed man’s agility – he was like a squirrel when it came to climb trees, and was able to follow her without any hitch. When he landed at her side, though, she didn’t flinch or step back, as she expected that, and instead continued walking, thinking that never in her life has he seen someone so nimble. She would vocalize her amazement, but it seemed that silence was their (obviously unspoken) deal for now.
It seemed that the stranger decided to accompany her, sitting in one of the rocks that decorated the landscape. Truth be told, if he decided to leave, she was not going to chase him or be upset. But if he followed her to her encampment, she was going to offer him hospitality.
Aedea sniffed the pot in the fire, and nodded in approval, then passed her hand over it, and decided it needed to be hotter. She walked a few steps towards a few dry branches lying near the rock where the overly-clothed man was sitting, and used them to turn up the fire. She handled the embers like an expert, knowing well how to maintain and control a fire.
Next to the fire there was a wooden spoon, which she used to stir the pot methodically. She brought it closer to her lips and tasted it. Making a face of deep thought, she went to the backpack, where her supplies were, and added a bit of salt to the mixture. Now, Aedea wasn’t an expert cook, but she was a survivalist that knew how to make a nutritious and relatively-tasty meal in the middle of the wilderness, using whatever was found there. Right now, the pot was filled with a stew made with a couple of rabbits she hunted and skinned river water, and some wild onions and berries she encountered that morning. It promised to be good, but it needed some time.
After some minutes of watching and stirring the pot intently, she took the spoon again and tasted it. It was good enough, she declared silently with a grunt of approval. Looking at her company, she scooped a bit of the stew and brought it close to him, without spilling a drop. Would he take a bit to taste? She wondered as she offered the spoon to him.
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Aedea was quite amazed by the overly-clothed man’s agility – he was like a squirrel when it came to climb trees, and was able to follow her without any hitch. When he landed at her side, though, she didn’t flinch or step back, as she expected that, and instead continued walking, thinking that never in her life has he seen someone so nimble. She would vocalize her amazement, but it seemed that silence was their (obviously unspoken) deal for now.
It seemed that the stranger decided to accompany her, sitting in one of the rocks that decorated the landscape. Truth be told, if he decided to leave, she was not going to chase him or be upset. But if he followed her to her encampment, she was going to offer him hospitality.
Aedea sniffed the pot in the fire, and nodded in approval, then passed her hand over it, and decided it needed to be hotter. She walked a few steps towards a few dry branches lying near the rock where the overly-clothed man was sitting, and used them to turn up the fire. She handled the embers like an expert, knowing well how to maintain and control a fire.
Next to the fire there was a wooden spoon, which she used to stir the pot methodically. She brought it closer to her lips and tasted it. Making a face of deep thought, she went to the backpack, where her supplies were, and added a bit of salt to the mixture. Now, Aedea wasn’t an expert cook, but she was a survivalist that knew how to make a nutritious and relatively-tasty meal in the middle of the wilderness, using whatever was found there. Right now, the pot was filled with a stew made with a couple of rabbits she hunted and skinned river water, and some wild onions and berries she encountered that morning. It promised to be good, but it needed some time.
After some minutes of watching and stirring the pot intently, she took the spoon again and tasted it. It was good enough, she declared silently with a grunt of approval. Looking at her company, she scooped a bit of the stew and brought it close to him, without spilling a drop. Would he take a bit to taste? She wondered as she offered the spoon to him.
Aedea was quite amazed by the overly-clothed man’s agility – he was like a squirrel when it came to climb trees, and was able to follow her without any hitch. When he landed at her side, though, she didn’t flinch or step back, as she expected that, and instead continued walking, thinking that never in her life has he seen someone so nimble. She would vocalize her amazement, but it seemed that silence was their (obviously unspoken) deal for now.
It seemed that the stranger decided to accompany her, sitting in one of the rocks that decorated the landscape. Truth be told, if he decided to leave, she was not going to chase him or be upset. But if he followed her to her encampment, she was going to offer him hospitality.
Aedea sniffed the pot in the fire, and nodded in approval, then passed her hand over it, and decided it needed to be hotter. She walked a few steps towards a few dry branches lying near the rock where the overly-clothed man was sitting, and used them to turn up the fire. She handled the embers like an expert, knowing well how to maintain and control a fire.
Next to the fire there was a wooden spoon, which she used to stir the pot methodically. She brought it closer to her lips and tasted it. Making a face of deep thought, she went to the backpack, where her supplies were, and added a bit of salt to the mixture. Now, Aedea wasn’t an expert cook, but she was a survivalist that knew how to make a nutritious and relatively-tasty meal in the middle of the wilderness, using whatever was found there. Right now, the pot was filled with a stew made with a couple of rabbits she hunted and skinned river water, and some wild onions and berries she encountered that morning. It promised to be good, but it needed some time.
After some minutes of watching and stirring the pot intently, she took the spoon again and tasted it. It was good enough, she declared silently with a grunt of approval. Looking at her company, she scooped a bit of the stew and brought it close to him, without spilling a drop. Would he take a bit to taste? She wondered as she offered the spoon to him.
Akhmad offered little by way of social interaction. He had been invited and so he had accompanied. But that didn't mean that he had to play the honoured guest. Instead of making conversation (even if only with his hands) or making himself useful around the fire or with the preparation of the food, Akhmad turned back to what had kept him busy up in the treetops because the girl's hounds had come to disturb him.
Glancing at his arm, where his bandages had been slashed from where he had cut himself on the tree, Akhmad was attempting to inspect the skin beneath. His night vision was good and despite most being unable to identify where black cloth ended and the slices of skin began, Akhmad was able to test the dexterity of the skin left behind, as well as whether or not any bits of twig or bark had become lodged in the flesh.
Satisfied that it was clean, he took to grabbing hold of one of his looser strands of cloth and winding it around is forearm with a tighter and harsher hold than usual. The firmness of the folds would ensure that the skin knitted together properly and he would need little by way of medical attention.
In his own physician work, however, Akhmad had seen to bloodied skin which was obviously the scent that the redheaded woman's animals had been drawn to, for the one she had ordered around thus far had perched himself at the bottom of Akhmad's rock and wrinkled its nose at the scent of the injury.
Akhmad ignored the beast.
Instead, he was distracted now by the offering of food that the girl made, standing beside his rock and turning a bowl and spoon up towards him.
Leaning down to peer into the vessel, Akhmad sniffed and immediately smelt the full-bodied tang of meat. At which point he raised a hand, palm out and shook his head.
Not normally one to offer explanations for what he meant or did - for Akhmad cared nothing for the opinions of others - he took the time to do so with this one. He had been a long traveller himself and knew what it meant to offer the limited food that the land could provide to a stranger. To him and his experience, her offer was a great one at that. And so, he made an attempt to explain, in his own way, why he would not eat the stew she had worked to prepare.
Gesturing to her dog, then to the skins hung up on the wooden rail by the edge of her camp, then to his mouth and belly, Akhmad then shook his head.
I don't eat animals. He was attempting to say.
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Akhmad offered little by way of social interaction. He had been invited and so he had accompanied. But that didn't mean that he had to play the honoured guest. Instead of making conversation (even if only with his hands) or making himself useful around the fire or with the preparation of the food, Akhmad turned back to what had kept him busy up in the treetops because the girl's hounds had come to disturb him.
Glancing at his arm, where his bandages had been slashed from where he had cut himself on the tree, Akhmad was attempting to inspect the skin beneath. His night vision was good and despite most being unable to identify where black cloth ended and the slices of skin began, Akhmad was able to test the dexterity of the skin left behind, as well as whether or not any bits of twig or bark had become lodged in the flesh.
Satisfied that it was clean, he took to grabbing hold of one of his looser strands of cloth and winding it around is forearm with a tighter and harsher hold than usual. The firmness of the folds would ensure that the skin knitted together properly and he would need little by way of medical attention.
In his own physician work, however, Akhmad had seen to bloodied skin which was obviously the scent that the redheaded woman's animals had been drawn to, for the one she had ordered around thus far had perched himself at the bottom of Akhmad's rock and wrinkled its nose at the scent of the injury.
Akhmad ignored the beast.
Instead, he was distracted now by the offering of food that the girl made, standing beside his rock and turning a bowl and spoon up towards him.
Leaning down to peer into the vessel, Akhmad sniffed and immediately smelt the full-bodied tang of meat. At which point he raised a hand, palm out and shook his head.
Not normally one to offer explanations for what he meant or did - for Akhmad cared nothing for the opinions of others - he took the time to do so with this one. He had been a long traveller himself and knew what it meant to offer the limited food that the land could provide to a stranger. To him and his experience, her offer was a great one at that. And so, he made an attempt to explain, in his own way, why he would not eat the stew she had worked to prepare.
Gesturing to her dog, then to the skins hung up on the wooden rail by the edge of her camp, then to his mouth and belly, Akhmad then shook his head.
I don't eat animals. He was attempting to say.
Akhmad offered little by way of social interaction. He had been invited and so he had accompanied. But that didn't mean that he had to play the honoured guest. Instead of making conversation (even if only with his hands) or making himself useful around the fire or with the preparation of the food, Akhmad turned back to what had kept him busy up in the treetops because the girl's hounds had come to disturb him.
Glancing at his arm, where his bandages had been slashed from where he had cut himself on the tree, Akhmad was attempting to inspect the skin beneath. His night vision was good and despite most being unable to identify where black cloth ended and the slices of skin began, Akhmad was able to test the dexterity of the skin left behind, as well as whether or not any bits of twig or bark had become lodged in the flesh.
Satisfied that it was clean, he took to grabbing hold of one of his looser strands of cloth and winding it around is forearm with a tighter and harsher hold than usual. The firmness of the folds would ensure that the skin knitted together properly and he would need little by way of medical attention.
In his own physician work, however, Akhmad had seen to bloodied skin which was obviously the scent that the redheaded woman's animals had been drawn to, for the one she had ordered around thus far had perched himself at the bottom of Akhmad's rock and wrinkled its nose at the scent of the injury.
Akhmad ignored the beast.
Instead, he was distracted now by the offering of food that the girl made, standing beside his rock and turning a bowl and spoon up towards him.
Leaning down to peer into the vessel, Akhmad sniffed and immediately smelt the full-bodied tang of meat. At which point he raised a hand, palm out and shook his head.
Not normally one to offer explanations for what he meant or did - for Akhmad cared nothing for the opinions of others - he took the time to do so with this one. He had been a long traveller himself and knew what it meant to offer the limited food that the land could provide to a stranger. To him and his experience, her offer was a great one at that. And so, he made an attempt to explain, in his own way, why he would not eat the stew she had worked to prepare.
Gesturing to her dog, then to the skins hung up on the wooden rail by the edge of her camp, then to his mouth and belly, Akhmad then shook his head.
I don't eat animals. He was attempting to say.
Being perfectly capable of doing the labors of a camp, even cooking, Aedea didn’t mind that the foreign man kept to his own things. He was his guest on her ‘home’, after all, and if he just wanted to stay and be comfortable, he was perfectly welcome to do so.
As she worked on the stew, she occasionally took her eyes out of the pot to watch over the dark man. He was constantly checking his arm; by the fact that one of her dogs, Apple, was near him, it meant that he was probably injured. That made sense, she realized… no wonder Baklava caught her scent and chased after him. The blood of a person was the same as an animal’s for her hounds.
Aedea raised perplexed eyebrows at the man’s refusal of her bowl of stew. Following his hands, and where the pointed, though, she realized what he meant. Truth be told, she didn’t understand why on earth would someone not eat animals… she was not only a hunter, but someone that grew in the wilderness and had to eat whatever she could get her hands on, so the concept seemed alien to her. But instead of reprimand him, and placed the bowl in front of the wolfdog, who stared at it intently.
Producing four more bowls, she poured more stew and placed three of them in front of her animal companions, who stared at it intently. She sat down by the fire and began eating like only a savage would eat, no matter how many times she was told it would be impolite, and only when she began, did the animals begin eating themselves, clearly respecting the fact than the alpha was the one that had to eat first.
When she was done, she wiped her mouth with her forearm and stared at the overly dressed man. She went towards her backpack, and near it, there was a small bag, from where she produced a small batch of wild onions. She pointed at them, then at the empty pot, then at her stomach, and then at him, trying to convey her intention: I can cook something with only vegetables for you.
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Being perfectly capable of doing the labors of a camp, even cooking, Aedea didn’t mind that the foreign man kept to his own things. He was his guest on her ‘home’, after all, and if he just wanted to stay and be comfortable, he was perfectly welcome to do so.
As she worked on the stew, she occasionally took her eyes out of the pot to watch over the dark man. He was constantly checking his arm; by the fact that one of her dogs, Apple, was near him, it meant that he was probably injured. That made sense, she realized… no wonder Baklava caught her scent and chased after him. The blood of a person was the same as an animal’s for her hounds.
Aedea raised perplexed eyebrows at the man’s refusal of her bowl of stew. Following his hands, and where the pointed, though, she realized what he meant. Truth be told, she didn’t understand why on earth would someone not eat animals… she was not only a hunter, but someone that grew in the wilderness and had to eat whatever she could get her hands on, so the concept seemed alien to her. But instead of reprimand him, and placed the bowl in front of the wolfdog, who stared at it intently.
Producing four more bowls, she poured more stew and placed three of them in front of her animal companions, who stared at it intently. She sat down by the fire and began eating like only a savage would eat, no matter how many times she was told it would be impolite, and only when she began, did the animals begin eating themselves, clearly respecting the fact than the alpha was the one that had to eat first.
When she was done, she wiped her mouth with her forearm and stared at the overly dressed man. She went towards her backpack, and near it, there was a small bag, from where she produced a small batch of wild onions. She pointed at them, then at the empty pot, then at her stomach, and then at him, trying to convey her intention: I can cook something with only vegetables for you.
Being perfectly capable of doing the labors of a camp, even cooking, Aedea didn’t mind that the foreign man kept to his own things. He was his guest on her ‘home’, after all, and if he just wanted to stay and be comfortable, he was perfectly welcome to do so.
As she worked on the stew, she occasionally took her eyes out of the pot to watch over the dark man. He was constantly checking his arm; by the fact that one of her dogs, Apple, was near him, it meant that he was probably injured. That made sense, she realized… no wonder Baklava caught her scent and chased after him. The blood of a person was the same as an animal’s for her hounds.
Aedea raised perplexed eyebrows at the man’s refusal of her bowl of stew. Following his hands, and where the pointed, though, she realized what he meant. Truth be told, she didn’t understand why on earth would someone not eat animals… she was not only a hunter, but someone that grew in the wilderness and had to eat whatever she could get her hands on, so the concept seemed alien to her. But instead of reprimand him, and placed the bowl in front of the wolfdog, who stared at it intently.
Producing four more bowls, she poured more stew and placed three of them in front of her animal companions, who stared at it intently. She sat down by the fire and began eating like only a savage would eat, no matter how many times she was told it would be impolite, and only when she began, did the animals begin eating themselves, clearly respecting the fact than the alpha was the one that had to eat first.
When she was done, she wiped her mouth with her forearm and stared at the overly dressed man. She went towards her backpack, and near it, there was a small bag, from where she produced a small batch of wild onions. She pointed at them, then at the empty pot, then at her stomach, and then at him, trying to convey her intention: I can cook something with only vegetables for you.
Akhmad took no offence that the woman hadn't been in some way psychic and known that he didn't eat meat but he also didn't try to explain why. For one thing, the explanation itself would be too complex to attempt to mime. Only his fellows in the Sariqas group knew what he ate (and specifically what he did not) and the purpose behind it. Not that it was for any personal or religious reason. It was just difficult to explain outside of his personal language of sign, shared with his brotherhood.
In simple truths... eating meat caused the sweat on a human body to contain a particular odour. When someone moved to stand just behind you and you could sense their presence, it was part of the phenomenon of sensation. Too subtle for the human mind to register it as a scent, the nose was sensing the smell of meat-eater. As such, Akhmad ate only food from the earth and was therefore able to blend in with the presence and smells of the world around him. It was part of the reason that he was able to surprise people so well. Not only was he silent, but he carried no scent either.
When the redhead decided to instead shared her food with her animals, Akhmad was partially amused and secondly exasperated at her choice of feeding them from bowls like humans. She had to carry those things wherever she went because she chose to feed them as such when throwing them a bone or too from her hunted catch would do just as well. And yet, she made the effort to create a full meal for them and dish it up as if they were human.
Stupid. And strange.
When she offered that she could make him something else with the vegetables she had left over, Akhmad shook his head but then pointed to one of the onions. His fingers curled in a beckoning motion, suggesting that she pick one of the white, round vegetables up and throw it in his direction...
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Akhmad took no offence that the woman hadn't been in some way psychic and known that he didn't eat meat but he also didn't try to explain why. For one thing, the explanation itself would be too complex to attempt to mime. Only his fellows in the Sariqas group knew what he ate (and specifically what he did not) and the purpose behind it. Not that it was for any personal or religious reason. It was just difficult to explain outside of his personal language of sign, shared with his brotherhood.
In simple truths... eating meat caused the sweat on a human body to contain a particular odour. When someone moved to stand just behind you and you could sense their presence, it was part of the phenomenon of sensation. Too subtle for the human mind to register it as a scent, the nose was sensing the smell of meat-eater. As such, Akhmad ate only food from the earth and was therefore able to blend in with the presence and smells of the world around him. It was part of the reason that he was able to surprise people so well. Not only was he silent, but he carried no scent either.
When the redhead decided to instead shared her food with her animals, Akhmad was partially amused and secondly exasperated at her choice of feeding them from bowls like humans. She had to carry those things wherever she went because she chose to feed them as such when throwing them a bone or too from her hunted catch would do just as well. And yet, she made the effort to create a full meal for them and dish it up as if they were human.
Stupid. And strange.
When she offered that she could make him something else with the vegetables she had left over, Akhmad shook his head but then pointed to one of the onions. His fingers curled in a beckoning motion, suggesting that she pick one of the white, round vegetables up and throw it in his direction...
Akhmad took no offence that the woman hadn't been in some way psychic and known that he didn't eat meat but he also didn't try to explain why. For one thing, the explanation itself would be too complex to attempt to mime. Only his fellows in the Sariqas group knew what he ate (and specifically what he did not) and the purpose behind it. Not that it was for any personal or religious reason. It was just difficult to explain outside of his personal language of sign, shared with his brotherhood.
In simple truths... eating meat caused the sweat on a human body to contain a particular odour. When someone moved to stand just behind you and you could sense their presence, it was part of the phenomenon of sensation. Too subtle for the human mind to register it as a scent, the nose was sensing the smell of meat-eater. As such, Akhmad ate only food from the earth and was therefore able to blend in with the presence and smells of the world around him. It was part of the reason that he was able to surprise people so well. Not only was he silent, but he carried no scent either.
When the redhead decided to instead shared her food with her animals, Akhmad was partially amused and secondly exasperated at her choice of feeding them from bowls like humans. She had to carry those things wherever she went because she chose to feed them as such when throwing them a bone or too from her hunted catch would do just as well. And yet, she made the effort to create a full meal for them and dish it up as if they were human.
Stupid. And strange.
When she offered that she could make him something else with the vegetables she had left over, Akhmad shook his head but then pointed to one of the onions. His fingers curled in a beckoning motion, suggesting that she pick one of the white, round vegetables up and throw it in his direction...
Aedea had some strange mannerisms that many people found inconceivable, and one of them was eating with her dogs on the same terms. But for her, it was normal. Ever since she lived in the wilderness with the pack of wild dogs that raised her, they always ate the same way. They ate the meat with their teeth, and so did she. Once she learned how to make a fire and ate cooked meat, so did them. And once the sisters taught her how to cook and to eat from a bowl, things weren’t going to change. Her hounds were her family, and he had a closer bond to them than to most people; it was only natural.
She was not the only strange one, though. The overly-dressed man was quite odd, even for her, not only due to his mannerisms but because he didn’t smell. Aedea had sharp senses, honed by her experience in the wilderness as a huntress, and he didn’t smell of anything… she was sure that her hounds only smelled him due to the blood on his arm.
She didn’t take offence when the man rejected her offer to cook him something. She would have been fine by making some roasted onions, with perhaps some wild mushrooms and berries that grew around, but if he didn’t want it, it was his choice. Instead, he pointed to the wild onions on her hand, and she understood. They were clean enough, so she threw one of the vegetables in his direction, then another, then another. She was sure he could catch them.
After that, she took her bowl and served herself another helping of the stew, walking and sitting by the rock where the foreign man was sitting. It was only polite to eat alongside your guess, correct?
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Aedea had some strange mannerisms that many people found inconceivable, and one of them was eating with her dogs on the same terms. But for her, it was normal. Ever since she lived in the wilderness with the pack of wild dogs that raised her, they always ate the same way. They ate the meat with their teeth, and so did she. Once she learned how to make a fire and ate cooked meat, so did them. And once the sisters taught her how to cook and to eat from a bowl, things weren’t going to change. Her hounds were her family, and he had a closer bond to them than to most people; it was only natural.
She was not the only strange one, though. The overly-dressed man was quite odd, even for her, not only due to his mannerisms but because he didn’t smell. Aedea had sharp senses, honed by her experience in the wilderness as a huntress, and he didn’t smell of anything… she was sure that her hounds only smelled him due to the blood on his arm.
She didn’t take offence when the man rejected her offer to cook him something. She would have been fine by making some roasted onions, with perhaps some wild mushrooms and berries that grew around, but if he didn’t want it, it was his choice. Instead, he pointed to the wild onions on her hand, and she understood. They were clean enough, so she threw one of the vegetables in his direction, then another, then another. She was sure he could catch them.
After that, she took her bowl and served herself another helping of the stew, walking and sitting by the rock where the foreign man was sitting. It was only polite to eat alongside your guess, correct?
Aedea had some strange mannerisms that many people found inconceivable, and one of them was eating with her dogs on the same terms. But for her, it was normal. Ever since she lived in the wilderness with the pack of wild dogs that raised her, they always ate the same way. They ate the meat with their teeth, and so did she. Once she learned how to make a fire and ate cooked meat, so did them. And once the sisters taught her how to cook and to eat from a bowl, things weren’t going to change. Her hounds were her family, and he had a closer bond to them than to most people; it was only natural.
She was not the only strange one, though. The overly-dressed man was quite odd, even for her, not only due to his mannerisms but because he didn’t smell. Aedea had sharp senses, honed by her experience in the wilderness as a huntress, and he didn’t smell of anything… she was sure that her hounds only smelled him due to the blood on his arm.
She didn’t take offence when the man rejected her offer to cook him something. She would have been fine by making some roasted onions, with perhaps some wild mushrooms and berries that grew around, but if he didn’t want it, it was his choice. Instead, he pointed to the wild onions on her hand, and she understood. They were clean enough, so she threw one of the vegetables in his direction, then another, then another. She was sure he could catch them.
After that, she took her bowl and served herself another helping of the stew, walking and sitting by the rock where the foreign man was sitting. It was only polite to eat alongside your guess, correct?
Akhmad was as quick as the redhead had assumed him to be. As the first of the round little vegetables were thrown in his direction, his left hand reached out and hooked it from the air, his hand coming down upon it and then curling it into his body in a simple and fluid catch. When the second sailed at him only a heartbeat after the other, his right hand had snatched out to perform the same trick, making it clear that were just as adept with either of his hands. The third was a little trickier and had been pitched a little lower so Akhmad's foot flashed out, turned sideways and flicked upwards, hitting the onion with the outside of his ankle and sending it up into the outstretched fingers of a hand that now sported two of the goods.
With a flick of the wrist, Akhmad threw both of this pair to the mutts that hovered around his rock, as if hoping for something to drop. One went to each and they snatched them from the air, thumping them between their jaws in a not dissimilar way to how Akhmad had plucked them from their course with his hands.
Left with simply one, large onion the size of an apple, Akhmad moved the hand that held it beneath his mask. After his dinner disappeared beneath the hem that rested against his chest, the rest of his material mask seemed to bulk and move as he brought food to mouth. Then there was a soft crunch noise as his teeth bit into the white skin of the onion like it was a peach, the bittersweet taste tanging over his tongue.
His headdress and mask shifting in little flickers as his jaw worked over the mouthful, grinding the onion between his molars, Akhmad looked down as the girl drew closer to him but made no move to shift from his perch. Instead, he focused on his meal, ensuring that his mask was always against his chest, refusing to offer even the slightest of glimpses beneath it from the downward angle that the wold girl had at her disposal.
His gaze - cool and light for a man of his dress - looked over the pale-skinned, feral girl and assessed her appearance. It was a fairly fancy robe for a woman who liked to live out amongst wolves... He wondered if she had stolen it from some passing noble lady but offered no judgement upon the action. For who was he to discriminate for criminal behaviour...?
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Akhmad was as quick as the redhead had assumed him to be. As the first of the round little vegetables were thrown in his direction, his left hand reached out and hooked it from the air, his hand coming down upon it and then curling it into his body in a simple and fluid catch. When the second sailed at him only a heartbeat after the other, his right hand had snatched out to perform the same trick, making it clear that were just as adept with either of his hands. The third was a little trickier and had been pitched a little lower so Akhmad's foot flashed out, turned sideways and flicked upwards, hitting the onion with the outside of his ankle and sending it up into the outstretched fingers of a hand that now sported two of the goods.
With a flick of the wrist, Akhmad threw both of this pair to the mutts that hovered around his rock, as if hoping for something to drop. One went to each and they snatched them from the air, thumping them between their jaws in a not dissimilar way to how Akhmad had plucked them from their course with his hands.
Left with simply one, large onion the size of an apple, Akhmad moved the hand that held it beneath his mask. After his dinner disappeared beneath the hem that rested against his chest, the rest of his material mask seemed to bulk and move as he brought food to mouth. Then there was a soft crunch noise as his teeth bit into the white skin of the onion like it was a peach, the bittersweet taste tanging over his tongue.
His headdress and mask shifting in little flickers as his jaw worked over the mouthful, grinding the onion between his molars, Akhmad looked down as the girl drew closer to him but made no move to shift from his perch. Instead, he focused on his meal, ensuring that his mask was always against his chest, refusing to offer even the slightest of glimpses beneath it from the downward angle that the wold girl had at her disposal.
His gaze - cool and light for a man of his dress - looked over the pale-skinned, feral girl and assessed her appearance. It was a fairly fancy robe for a woman who liked to live out amongst wolves... He wondered if she had stolen it from some passing noble lady but offered no judgement upon the action. For who was he to discriminate for criminal behaviour...?
Akhmad was as quick as the redhead had assumed him to be. As the first of the round little vegetables were thrown in his direction, his left hand reached out and hooked it from the air, his hand coming down upon it and then curling it into his body in a simple and fluid catch. When the second sailed at him only a heartbeat after the other, his right hand had snatched out to perform the same trick, making it clear that were just as adept with either of his hands. The third was a little trickier and had been pitched a little lower so Akhmad's foot flashed out, turned sideways and flicked upwards, hitting the onion with the outside of his ankle and sending it up into the outstretched fingers of a hand that now sported two of the goods.
With a flick of the wrist, Akhmad threw both of this pair to the mutts that hovered around his rock, as if hoping for something to drop. One went to each and they snatched them from the air, thumping them between their jaws in a not dissimilar way to how Akhmad had plucked them from their course with his hands.
Left with simply one, large onion the size of an apple, Akhmad moved the hand that held it beneath his mask. After his dinner disappeared beneath the hem that rested against his chest, the rest of his material mask seemed to bulk and move as he brought food to mouth. Then there was a soft crunch noise as his teeth bit into the white skin of the onion like it was a peach, the bittersweet taste tanging over his tongue.
His headdress and mask shifting in little flickers as his jaw worked over the mouthful, grinding the onion between his molars, Akhmad looked down as the girl drew closer to him but made no move to shift from his perch. Instead, he focused on his meal, ensuring that his mask was always against his chest, refusing to offer even the slightest of glimpses beneath it from the downward angle that the wold girl had at her disposal.
His gaze - cool and light for a man of his dress - looked over the pale-skinned, feral girl and assessed her appearance. It was a fairly fancy robe for a woman who liked to live out amongst wolves... He wondered if she had stolen it from some passing noble lady but offered no judgement upon the action. For who was he to discriminate for criminal behaviour...?
Even as the things he saw the overly-dressed man, it still surprised Aedea how nimble and agile he was. He managed to snatch the wild onions with the ease her dogs would catch a piece of meat thrown at them, and even the third one he did catch masterfully, not before kicking it with his feet so he would have a chance to grab it. This man was truly something else, and she couldn’t help but admire his ability.
Her dogs snatched the onions in mid air, but after biting them, they decided they didn’t like the taste of raw onion and dropped it. She shrugged, deciding to leave them there in case some herbivore animal wanted them after she left and she continued ravaging her food. She threw three onions at him because she was trying to be a good host and wanted him to eat plenty, but she wasn’t offended that he didn’t take her offer. He was probably not that hungry.
She wondered where that man was from… his clothes and mannerisms were like nothing she has seen in Greece. Perhaps he was Egyptian? She didn’t know how Egyptians usually were, and realized she didn’t have a reference point. It was like with her; no one could guess where Aedea was from, though she knew that she was from the wilds. She was probably from a place with actual people, but her first memories were of the wilds, so naturally she guessed she was from there.
After eating, she wiped her mouth with her sleeve again and stood up to gather the bowls from where her dogs ate from. She would wash them in the river later, but for now, she had something she had to do…
She went to the middle of the camp with her favorite bow, the one carved with prayers to Artemis in Greek and with pictures of nature, and began to pray. She muttered a silent prayer – probably the only words the dark man has heard her speak – to Artemis, thanking her for her blessed hunt. As a priestess, it was his duty to worship the goddess of nature in every way she could, and thus she did so after a kill, and after making use of such kill. The foreign man would probably think it was odd, but they were beyond that now.
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Even as the things he saw the overly-dressed man, it still surprised Aedea how nimble and agile he was. He managed to snatch the wild onions with the ease her dogs would catch a piece of meat thrown at them, and even the third one he did catch masterfully, not before kicking it with his feet so he would have a chance to grab it. This man was truly something else, and she couldn’t help but admire his ability.
Her dogs snatched the onions in mid air, but after biting them, they decided they didn’t like the taste of raw onion and dropped it. She shrugged, deciding to leave them there in case some herbivore animal wanted them after she left and she continued ravaging her food. She threw three onions at him because she was trying to be a good host and wanted him to eat plenty, but she wasn’t offended that he didn’t take her offer. He was probably not that hungry.
She wondered where that man was from… his clothes and mannerisms were like nothing she has seen in Greece. Perhaps he was Egyptian? She didn’t know how Egyptians usually were, and realized she didn’t have a reference point. It was like with her; no one could guess where Aedea was from, though she knew that she was from the wilds. She was probably from a place with actual people, but her first memories were of the wilds, so naturally she guessed she was from there.
After eating, she wiped her mouth with her sleeve again and stood up to gather the bowls from where her dogs ate from. She would wash them in the river later, but for now, she had something she had to do…
She went to the middle of the camp with her favorite bow, the one carved with prayers to Artemis in Greek and with pictures of nature, and began to pray. She muttered a silent prayer – probably the only words the dark man has heard her speak – to Artemis, thanking her for her blessed hunt. As a priestess, it was his duty to worship the goddess of nature in every way she could, and thus she did so after a kill, and after making use of such kill. The foreign man would probably think it was odd, but they were beyond that now.
Even as the things he saw the overly-dressed man, it still surprised Aedea how nimble and agile he was. He managed to snatch the wild onions with the ease her dogs would catch a piece of meat thrown at them, and even the third one he did catch masterfully, not before kicking it with his feet so he would have a chance to grab it. This man was truly something else, and she couldn’t help but admire his ability.
Her dogs snatched the onions in mid air, but after biting them, they decided they didn’t like the taste of raw onion and dropped it. She shrugged, deciding to leave them there in case some herbivore animal wanted them after she left and she continued ravaging her food. She threw three onions at him because she was trying to be a good host and wanted him to eat plenty, but she wasn’t offended that he didn’t take her offer. He was probably not that hungry.
She wondered where that man was from… his clothes and mannerisms were like nothing she has seen in Greece. Perhaps he was Egyptian? She didn’t know how Egyptians usually were, and realized she didn’t have a reference point. It was like with her; no one could guess where Aedea was from, though she knew that she was from the wilds. She was probably from a place with actual people, but her first memories were of the wilds, so naturally she guessed she was from there.
After eating, she wiped her mouth with her sleeve again and stood up to gather the bowls from where her dogs ate from. She would wash them in the river later, but for now, she had something she had to do…
She went to the middle of the camp with her favorite bow, the one carved with prayers to Artemis in Greek and with pictures of nature, and began to pray. She muttered a silent prayer – probably the only words the dark man has heard her speak – to Artemis, thanking her for her blessed hunt. As a priestess, it was his duty to worship the goddess of nature in every way she could, and thus she did so after a kill, and after making use of such kill. The foreign man would probably think it was odd, but they were beyond that now.