Grumpy puss for choo. Weird post. Need sleep.

The soot still coating his palms was comforting. Daily the Eika grew more into himself, fell further into the role he felt he was suppose to play in Ichika, setting fires and putting them out and always coated with smoke and grim. It would have been so easy, after Ayre, to up and leave. Ichika was not Phoenix Valley, the grey man was not bound by family ties to these lands or any lands any longer. There was no hope of Jefferson or Geneva coming home to Ichika, for this was not their home. Yet he had stayed all the same. There was nowhere else to go, and he found, even if there were, he did not wish to go there.

Arye and he had come together, and here he would stay. Nothing of the sea lady remained, having been burnt up as easily as he now burnt branches and logs and whole trees. Only he remained, and that was enough, it had to be enough because that was all there was. Had he not stayed than never would he had lit the fire for Samhain, and then who would? Easily enough Nehalennia or Ansui could have, or Nayru and Razekiel if they had been of the right mind, but he remembered his leaders, drunk and stoned on that night, and he was glad he had stayed.

Arye and he had come together, and here it was he settled. The Abbey walls had quickly enough become where he laid his body at night, and the borders were where he patrol in the days. Ichika's lands were flush with prey and had he not stayed than the turkey he had shot that day never would have been a meal. Yet it was with carefully crafted wood and sinew strung tight from a buck he had felled the animal, his arrow shooting not perfectly straight but straight enough. It was just straight enough, just as he was just enough. And he was glad he had stayed.

Arye and he had come together, and it was here he was among them yet apart. And it was so, among them but apart, when he came upon the lady, a new face but familiar in her scent and coloring. Like Razekiel, and he merely halted yards from the sitting form, surprised and pleased to find one not of the Herald class meditating. In one hand he carried the bow, in the other the turkey, and from the pouch round his waist was the ever present small pouch of fire making tools. Oceanic eyes watched her for some time, before he dropped the dead bird on the ground, louder than any of his footfalls had been, and the man cleared his throat, unwilling to move past without acknowledge that he was among her, if still separate.

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The eyes that opened and peered up at Pripyat Soul caused his heart to hammer within his chest. The liquid honey irises were familiar but from another's face and Pripyat hardened himself to her soft looks. As she greeted him with a slight bow of her head and the proper words, Pripyat set down his bow and few stray arrows, clasped his hands together as if in prayer and bowed his head deeply at the lady. "Namaste." Marine eyes wandered over the woman once more, taking in more details now than they had upon their first appraisal. That she wore clothes seemed strange, but many things in this world were strange and he let it simply slip from his mind. That was none of his business. He noticed her eyeing his kill, the hand moving as if to silence some rumble from within. He let that too slip from his mind, that also was none of his business.

An ear twitched at the name she called him. Love. It rolled from her tongue like she used it often and caused Pripyat's gaze to grow more frigid. Yet why it should be any different from how he called all Ichikans brother or sister he did not know. Simply, it just wasn’t the same. Almost the word had caused him to forget her question, and coming back to it he frowned. Quite obviously she was not, and yet he could not just ignore her. "No." The word was simple and straight, there was little need for much more. On a better day he would have given his name, and though the day had been fine up until the golden gaze had found his own the smoke colored mad found he needed to get away from this woman, whoever she might be.

Stooping he moved to pick up the dead fowl, and the tools used to destroy such a life. With both hands full once more, he nodded his head to her, as if to say Well, so much for that. Farewell. Taking a few steps away he looked over the lady one last time, realizing for the first time that her pelt had some of the same sandy colors that might be found in Razekiel's, and that the roan-red streak on her snout was very much like that of the Seiryu. Squinting at this new realization, his mouth opened and words came from him before Pripyat was even aware of what he was saying. "So did you find anything? In your meditation I mean."

Bah! didn't see that you replied to this! Sorry love!

The woman didn't seem to know how to take Pripyat's sudden interest, and neither did he. Yet he did not question his own motives, but only noted that the longer he stared at her the more similarities sprung up at him between the woman and his male leader. Their coats were both saturated with the strange smell of sweet smoke. Yet he let these observations pass and he instead took note of other aspects of the lady. The way she pulled the blanket tight around her, the weariness in her eyes. Right then Pripyat knew his rudeness, and almost it didn't matter, but there was a part of him still too connected to the pack to let such a transgression of his behavior pass. Arye wouldn't have approved of his sour attitude as of late, even if her absence was the cause, and so with an exaggerated sigh he expelled all desire to move away from the golden eyed lady, though try as he might he could not force a smile onto his lips.

"You seem tired." The comment was unhelpful, but Pripyat could not offer his assistance without some form of justification. Certainly he couldn't allow her or anyone to think that he invited company into his presence for the sake of company alone. He did not need the company of anyone. "Would you like to share my meal with me?" He held up the turkey, his inquiry not so much full of kindness but merely curiosity. Only after the emotionless question did he add any words that held just the remnants of warmth to them. "I could build a fire up here if you wished. Or we could go to the Abbey." Rather he would build a fire, though he could always do that in the Abbey was well. Either way, he knew not where she planned on resting her head then, and it did not matter to him, but merely he allowed her these options for where they should dine, if they were to dine together.

Slight PP of them walking and arriving. 345

Simply the smoke colored man nodded at the girl's words as she accepted his invitation. The warm words were sticky sweet, polite and perfect and he knew he acted like a big ogre in comparison to the coyote woman. It was she that started the introductions although he knew it should have been him, and Pripyat filed the name away. "Pripyat." The name came abrupt after her own and then he turned in the direction of the Abbey, looking over his shoulder at Sage. "Come on. This way." And Pripyat set off, allowing the turkey to swing just a little as he moved along.

The trek to the Abbey was not too long, but as the pair walked the silence felt more awkward in motion than it had at the summit Sage had been mediating at. Clearing his throat with a gruff cough, Pripyat peer sideways at the woman, trying to think of small talk. Never had he been any good at such a task and simply he decided to just say what he was thinking. "Did you come from Inferni?" The scent of the coyote clan was still detectable upon the lady's pelt and Pripyat remember his only visit there. A devil of a woman had come after him, after claiming kinship. Her eyes had been the color of blood, like the Lady Nayru's, but so much crueler than the ruby gems the Jiryu sported.

Gampo Abbey rose up before them and Pripyat almost smiled at the sight. Coming to the Abbey was coming home and Pripyat turned to see take in Sage's reaction, if any, to the many they had to mount to within the confines of the Abbey. Almost he smiled at the woman as they began to climb and when they reached the top Pripyat skirted the great temple doors and instead led them around to the smaller building meant for lodging. Holding open the door, Pripyat turned to make sure Sage had come along before entering himself, and dropping his belongings in a pile on the floor. "Here we are."

502

As they had walked along Sage confirmed Pripyat's guesses, both the one spoken out loud and the one kept silently to himself. Indeed the girl hailed from the coyote clan and the peace loving man that led the Ichikans was indeed her father. The slate and cream colored boy only nodded at this and said no more. Aside from a general curiosity, what did it matter to him where the woman came from? As long as she brought not trouble with her—and he couldn't imagine this soft spoken girl to be hauling about conflict and turmoil. Rather, he guessed, if not the pure desire to be aside her father, it was that from which she fled, for Inferni was infamous for its clashes and quarrels.

No, the girl who had reluctantly ascended the stairs of the Abbey but happily soaked in the sights once among the great buildings did not seem a troublemaker to Pripyat. The gentle lady would be afforded the same courtesy that he showed all the other Ichikans at least. Inside the lodging room he found the floor cushions so they could seat themselves, and without saying a word he placed two of them on the ground. Chairs were nonexistent in the Abbey, but he doubted very much that the girl he found meditating on the mountain top would mind very much.

Although he was awkward and silent as they settled into the room, Sage knew how to make small chat—a skill Pripyat could never quite master. He nodded absently, and turned his attention back to the turkey, mindlessly plucking feathers out of the dead flesh. That the coyote woman seemed to be able to so flawlessly make conversation angered him in a way. Again he was reminded of Arye, who had been friendly enough to submerge both of them into Ichika but had not bothered to live longer enough to keep guiding the sullen male any further than that. Ocean eyes met honey colored ones, and he couldn't help that his voice sounded a little more annoyed than usual, not even bothering to acknowledge her words of gratitude. "Would you like to eat now? I can cook it, or we could just eat as is."

He proffered the turkey. Though the man had become apt at cooking meat, turning the copper flavor into a savory one, seasoned with the herbs he had collected, the Eika usually ate his meals raw. It was more natural, kept him closer to his primal roots that he often denied while waltzing about on two legs. Yet if the lady desired, he would build a tiny inferno and roast the turkey, though he secretly wished to just get the night over with. He did not want to explain that this was his private room in the Abbey, one of the few lodging rooms with a fireplace, and he did not want to stay in the room with the girl who, for some reason, seemed to spark unrest and unhappiness within him.

No worries love! 518

The warm eyes of the Lykoi lady turned downward in response to Pripyat's hardness, and a smug sense of satisfaction filled the confused boy. Why it should be that making his guest uncomfortable filled him with a strange sense of pride Pripyat couldn't explain to himself, he wasn't even entirely aware of the occurrence. All the boy knew was that this woman filled him with emotions that had no reasons: remorse and a lingering sorrow that somehow transformed its self into anger. To be cold towards her was to guard against these feelings, and yet Pripyat Soul fought with himself. He had a duty to Ichika, to be kind and compassionate towards all beings, and furthermore he had a duty to himself and his upbringing. He had never been unkind. Acts of unkindness did not sit well with the man and so his own feelings, though nothing unkind had been said or done directly, did not sit well with the man either.

I'm not picky. The large left lobe of his ear flickered again and Pripyat almost realized that he wished she had been picky. It would have given him justification for further annoyance, as he imagined lighting the fire and carving the fowl and roasting it—though this surely was no chore and he might have chosen to do so had he been alone anyway. Instead he sighed heavily, as if any answer she gave him would always be the wrong one. The man moved to beside the modest fireplace, the only spot in the room where he kept any personal belongings. All the boy had there was an old, salvaged kitchen knife and a pile of assorted rocks. It was here he leaned his bow and arrows, as well as placing the pouch of fire making tools from around his waist. Picking up the knife, and then finding a rough, burlap cloth from among the floor pillows he spread the cloth between their two pillows and laid the fowl here.

Although they opted to eat their meal raw, Pripyat took the time to half hack and half tear the dead bird into two. It was messy business and the burlap cloth helped to keep the mess from soaking into the wooden floors. When the bird was in two he sat back on his wide pillow, looking at Sage. "Alright then." He pushed the larger half towards the warm hued woman--though he had done a fair job at splitting the creature equally. The large clawed hands of the man took up his own share, and he only held it, waiting for the woman to eat first. It was strange, but even for all the strange unhappiness she inspired in smoke and cream man, Prip did not feel it would be right to eat before her. Instead he stared at her with bright eyes and the words that formed themselves on his thin ebony lips surprised the man. "I hope you come to find happiness and peace here in Ichika." What surprised the Soul male even more was that he genuinely meant these words with no reserve.