[DND] What I Never Knew
Jace - Ponti
[[Dated 12th]]

[Image: Nazman.png]He was tired. He was wet. He had just about enough of today, but there was one last thing he had to do.

There was already a good chunk of wood in storage to keep the fire places and campfires lit within the Fort and outside of it, but Nazar knew that if any easy work wasn't done before the other Dishonorable caught wind of his plan, then he'd be on scat duty again. That wasn't something he was willing to do, finding himself far above those that had newly adopted a similar rank.

The axe split the last log and it's quarters tumbled into the snow. A quick lever action put the blade to rest in the chopping stump, and he got to work putting the wood in storage where it belonged. A few hours later, and he was taking the last of the wood, and returning the axe into the confines of the Courthouse.

With that,  he was quick on his feet to get himself out of the Fort and out of sight, so that the cruddy jobs that he'd left behind could entertain the other Dishonorable.

A brief pass by the stream that ran out of the Fort was made. He washed his arms and face in the frigid waters where ice floated lazily by, then set off toward Wolfville. The newly renovated down was his latest and greatest hiding spot. No one found him there that begged for work to be done, and with the pleasant pub just off the square, he could enjoy the rest of his day right.

The trip was a little slower, thanks to the snow, but eventually his paws took gait over the cold, cobblestone streets. His eyes strayed as he started looking for a little nook or cranny that he could make himself a resident of, out of sight and comfortable enough for him to relax until he needed to warm up. Turning as he passed a particular alley, he debated the location, but roving eyes hadn't seen the luperci that he'd walked right into.

Like a brick wall, he'd not even shuddered, but upon instinct his arm came out to catch whoever it was. Her weight labored his arm and he pulled her in, until he realied who it was. When pale blue looked into the soul that he'd saved from hitting the snowy street, he stopped. Eyes widened. What was she doing here?

She might have been blushing, if she thought about it, if she truly, deeply considered upon it. She tried not to; not because she found the idea unpleasant but... it... She wasn't sure why.

She was most definitely blushing.

Head down, journal pressed to her chest, Pontifex strode quickly, her cloak swishing heavily about her ankles. Such gentle feelings needed a quiet place to dissect, and the pub was much too loud and rowdy for a proper--- oh!

Pontifex fairly ploughed into the figure that passed at just the right time.

Surprised flooded her, leaving space for a startled gust of breath and a faint squeak and for grappling hands that sought to find purchase against whatever could prevent her crashing to the floor. Her fingers found an arm and held fast, holding strongly to the heat and the pulse of the heartbeat against under her grasp. Dropping her journal into the slush at their feet, her other hand also reached automatically for stability, finding hard muscle barely softened by fur.

Ponti had bounced from the powerful chest like an errant falling leaf and he'd not so much as shifted. It was absurd, and she might have laughed at it, at the situation, at herself; the sheepish smile tugging upwards there at her dark lips and self-recriminating laughter in the words she spoke,

"Oh, I'm zo sorry, I didn't zee... you..." Her words trailed off as she finally raised her head to see who she had unknowingly struck. Sunshine eyes, wide and bright, widened further. For a long, uninterrupted moment, Pontifex stared up into his face, into his pale blue gaze, all kinds of emotions rushing through her openly; fondness for the mischievous little boy she remembered, uncertainty of the man he had grown into, regret for the way their last meeting had ended... it all played out across her face in a sudden burst of spring rainfall.

"Zhank you, for catching me." She said sincerely, meaning it, and withdrew her hands from his person slowly. He was not a thing to flinch from, as if diseased, but nor did she imagine he would welcome her touch upon him. Feeling complicated, Pontifex stooped and grabbed her drawing journal from the ground before it could become too saturated.

He was a puzzle, for sure, she thought as she straightened, and wondered what drove him now, what was important to him. What brought him happiness?

"I.. ah... I was zhinking of 'eading to zhe Five Shields?? Ief you are not buzy?" Maybe he was, he had seemed focused in the millisecond before they had collided. Conversely, thinking about Nazar would surely distract her from thinking about another man, who she had not been blushing over.

Pontifex was open though, honest and frank in her invitation extending towards him.

Ooc here

[Image: Nazman.png]The moment her hands reached for him, the soft of her palm gripped his arm and her hand braced against his chest, he looked absolutely offended. With little concern to whether she was steady enough on her own, his hands snapped open and released the woman he's instinctively caught, taking a step back as she absent-mindedly apologized.

He could see the recognition in her eye as she finally cast her gaze upon him, while her voice trailed off into the ether. There, in her sights, on her face, he could read her fondness, among other things. Even after the last event that brought them together, she didn't understand the type of man he was. Nazar found that she never would, as determined as she was to find kindness for him.

“Don't mention it,” Curt tones responded, regret drawing a groan that he captured just enough in his throat that it didn't make a sound. He meant every word of it. If he never saw her again, it would be too soon. With that, he took another couple steps back as she plucked her book from the ground, his mind in turmoil. He wasn't ready for anything she had to say. What she'd last exposed continued to whirl around in his mind. Something he still couldn't digest. Another step back and away and he turned a shoulder to her, cold and unforgiving, ready to walk off and be rid of her.

Until, she gave an offer.

He certainly wasn't busy, though he could easily lie. More over, he could have kept walking, but her offer had his feet frozen into the frigid slush at his paws. What more did she know that he didn't? What other stories could she tell him of his life before he could remember. What other man could he have become if he'd never been stolen away?

As if rewound, he returned to face her for a moment, narrowed eyes wary of her true intentions, still, “I'm not busy,” He stated, unable to summon more than that l'est his attitude get the better of him. He'd have to be some kind of amiable, if even his version of that was a scarce attempt.

Nazar wouldn't wait for her as his paws started moving, taking gait toward the Wolfville bar. A part of him hoped that she wouldn't follow, but deep in heart there was a sliver of want. An urge to know more; to fit the unknown pieces of his life together to make him a fuller man.


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