[P] Pithy Words Are Sharp Nails Which Force Truth to Memory
Jace - Honrin
Ooc here
Vivianite eyes passed followed the length of the great sword that rested in his care. It was in the quiet ring of metal against stone that caught his ears, while his attention spanned the blade as he worked it. First, whetstone, and then leather, would find this blade near as sharp as it might become.

The slurry coated the edge of the sword as the stone stole the polish finish with intention, with one more slide of the long weapon across the whetstone before it came time for inspection. Lending the blade to the log where he sat, he allowed it's weight to be carried only at the hilt with one hand. As the flames of the Hushhowl fire crackled and glittered off of the metal, he ran his thumb twice over the sharpened edge. First, from the heart of the blade to it's edge, and one run of his thumb down the entire length. Gently, he worked his eyes over the weapon before his expression changed from inspection and returned to the seeking gaze to the whetstone.

Truly, the edge of this certain type of weapon wasn't crucial, no. It was it's weight that burdened those that opposed him. Oh, how few that had been over the years. Blessed be, though the reminders of his deeds did play in his sleep, where he couldn't cast them aside or shirk them in the name of purpose or duty. He couldn't fight the memories in this quiet moment, where only he and the weapon who had claimed a soul conversed in sight between the amber light and the warmth of his living hand.

Yet, no matter how many or how few a weapon claimed it's usefulness or purpose, even blades idle in show or storage, they all needed care. Whetstone for a sharpened edge and leather for polish. Oils so that rust wouldn't ruin their strength and a sheath to protect it until it was brandished to the flurry of battle once more. It was between these thoughts of death and care that his mind roved, until the quiet night revealed a caller.

Quick did the silver tip of his ear flit ahead to the sound of coming footsteps. The light of the moon just barely caressed the motion of another, a Cavalier by the downwind scent of it, and as he grew from the depth of shadow, did his pale coat offer Pushok's finding eye, “Honrien. Vhat briengs yeu?”


Ooc: Wordtober Day 14: Disembodied.
The night found him sleepless and exhausted for it. Crusty, swollen eyes found the track of the moon against a breathless midnight sky. A sigh heaved from his chest, and idle fingers plucked a small tune on his lute. Rather than disturb his wife and child with his maudlin wondering, he was semi-content to spend the bounds of it by himself.

Legs, bereft of purpose or direction, took him to wander aimlessly, and with a disembodied sense of existence.

Still issuing a dainty tune from his wandering digits, he found himself at front and center of the Hushhowl camp, without much of a memory of getting there. A welcoming fire burned brightly against the silent darkness, and with that too the greeting of a fond face.

"Evenin' Pushok." Came the deep, rumbling voice, and along with it went a nodding of his head in greeting to his once-mentee. Jaws breaking to a genial smile that allowed yellowing teeth to flash in the firelight, Honrin gave a low rumble of laughter, muted for the knowledge that some would like as not be asleep and solidly into their dreams.

"My mind conspires to keep me awake, dancing with ideas and reams of parchment filled with sums and numbers." He waxed this eloquent with a grimace, and a hand pressed to the side of his face in a mock groan. Glancing through the cage of his fingers, a golden eye sought out Pushok once more.

"Does your fire have room for another attendant?" He said with a grin for his overly formal terms for talking, before admitting wryly, "I'm tired of wandering around aimlessly."

He wouldn't press his company if Pushok wanted to be by himself, but he hoped the younger man was willing to have another sit with him, the loneliness of the Fort's emptiness weighed on his mind in a way it had never done before.


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