01-17-2012, 02:01 AM
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The man of smoke and cream tended to the Abbey with care, though he was not alone in his efforts. Those of the Herald class had grown accustomed to one another and they worked like a well oiled machine. Pripyat had his duties and Nehalennia, Ansui and Macarius all had their own. No one got in the way of anyone else and they all benefited from one another. Who rose first was hard to determine, for it seemed all those infused with the spiritual fever wasted no hours. They rose early in the morning, long before dawn broke and they lay their heads down as a rule only after the sun set. It was important to see both events each day, the rising and falling of the bright orange star, giving warmth and light to their lives.
Pripyat lit the fire early, warming the communal kitchen if the others chose to make tea or linger just a moment after breakfast. Sometimes he would find one of them in meditation within the garden walls or he'd run into old Macarius tending the dormant plants, and he made no noise as he check on his stores of seasoned wood and herbs. They moved about each other like without words, but they knew each other's needs and the need of all of Ichika and by dawn they had completed more work than most got done in a day. It was this that allowed Pripyat to turn his attentions to other needs of Ichika.
Daily he practiced with his bow and arrow. Some days he would shoot several winged beasts from the sky and distribute meals to those who did not hunt for themselves. Other days he simply carried it as another means of defense when he made border patrol, filling in for the ranks that stood empty in their four class hierarchy. He knew that the envoy members were capable, yet they were not quite plentiful. And so Pripyat did not mind guarding against threats that never came. Most patrols were only formalities. Marking the tree here, scenting the stone there. He strengthened the invisible boundary that the lined in the spring with blooms. Now there wasn't even the trace of withered plant remains, but the border line was unmistakable all the same.
Pripyat happened not to be on such a patrol when the sound called, but still he had his bow. Always he had with him the bow and arrows, slung to his back. And always he had the pouch of stones and flint and tinder about his waist. So it was suited with these and nothing but his natural pelt he came upon the strange man. Seated within their borders, Pripyat crept upon the fur masked man stealthily. It was to his advantage that they were in Ichika no Ho-en for the Eika who had once been Gendo knew the lands well enough to keep hidden until he wished to appear. It was out of seemingly nowhere he came upon the clothed man, his bow still upon his back but his palms ready to reach back and draw the weapon.
Oceanic eyes swept the stranger, ears flicking in annoyance. The man did not seem threatening, seated upon the large stone, but it was not one with manners that waltzed into another's territory. The gruff voice of the boy came then, azure irises narrowing at the green and brown of the man's coverings. "You are trespassing stranger." The words were flung at the light eyed canine, for surely the man knew well enough he had crossed clearly marked boundaries. To inform the man of this was not Pripyat's aim, but rather to ignite an explanation from the trespasser for such a transgression.
The man of smoke and cream tended to the Abbey with care, though he was not alone in his efforts. Those of the Herald class had grown accustomed to one another and they worked like a well oiled machine. Pripyat had his duties and Nehalennia, Ansui and Macarius all had their own. No one got in the way of anyone else and they all benefited from one another. Who rose first was hard to determine, for it seemed all those infused with the spiritual fever wasted no hours. They rose early in the morning, long before dawn broke and they lay their heads down as a rule only after the sun set. It was important to see both events each day, the rising and falling of the bright orange star, giving warmth and light to their lives.
Pripyat lit the fire early, warming the communal kitchen if the others chose to make tea or linger just a moment after breakfast. Sometimes he would find one of them in meditation within the garden walls or he'd run into old Macarius tending the dormant plants, and he made no noise as he check on his stores of seasoned wood and herbs. They moved about each other like without words, but they knew each other's needs and the need of all of Ichika and by dawn they had completed more work than most got done in a day. It was this that allowed Pripyat to turn his attentions to other needs of Ichika.
Daily he practiced with his bow and arrow. Some days he would shoot several winged beasts from the sky and distribute meals to those who did not hunt for themselves. Other days he simply carried it as another means of defense when he made border patrol, filling in for the ranks that stood empty in their four class hierarchy. He knew that the envoy members were capable, yet they were not quite plentiful. And so Pripyat did not mind guarding against threats that never came. Most patrols were only formalities. Marking the tree here, scenting the stone there. He strengthened the invisible boundary that the lined in the spring with blooms. Now there wasn't even the trace of withered plant remains, but the border line was unmistakable all the same.
Pripyat happened not to be on such a patrol when the sound called, but still he had his bow. Always he had with him the bow and arrows, slung to his back. And always he had the pouch of stones and flint and tinder about his waist. So it was suited with these and nothing but his natural pelt he came upon the strange man. Seated within their borders, Pripyat crept upon the fur masked man stealthily. It was to his advantage that they were in Ichika no Ho-en for the Eika who had once been Gendo knew the lands well enough to keep hidden until he wished to appear. It was out of seemingly nowhere he came upon the clothed man, his bow still upon his back but his palms ready to reach back and draw the weapon.
Oceanic eyes swept the stranger, ears flicking in annoyance. The man did not seem threatening, seated upon the large stone, but it was not one with manners that waltzed into another's territory. The gruff voice of the boy came then, azure irises narrowing at the green and brown of the man's coverings. "You are trespassing stranger." The words were flung at the light eyed canine, for surely the man knew well enough he had crossed clearly marked boundaries. To inform the man of this was not Pripyat's aim, but rather to ignite an explanation from the trespasser for such a transgression.