[html]  | |  | The morning air was crisp, more so than the young woman would have liked. The sun had only barely risen over the horizon and already it was masked with clouds, clouds that threatened to continue to spill the flurry of snow that seemed to have taken over the lands recently. The layer of snow that had already covered the ground crunched beneath her feet as she walked, dragging chilled fingers across the trunk of a tree as she passed it by. Bright blue eyes scanned the ground as she went, taking careful steps and yet going in no real direction at all. She was on a mission of sorts, but not a mission that would lead her anywhere specific, but rather to something specific.
It was as the young chocolate colored woman passed a row of trees that she saw it, resting there on the ground. Rachias shrugged her shoulder once, forcing the thick denim backpack to fall to the crevice of her elbow. She held it there until she reached the object, a log that had been unfortunate enough to have fallen at some point. Upon reaching the log Rachias immediately dropped to her knees in front of it, dropping the backpack to the ground to rummage through it. After a moment she withdrew her hand, holding a small dull hatchet, and began to work at chopping away bits of the wood. It would take some time to get a few good sized pieces, which would have to dry after she returned to the house, if she wanted to keep herself and Arkham warm through the night.
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[html]  OoC
Mind if this is set on the 19th? IC
The black wolf tended to walk as if he had a purpose, even if he didn't. That day wasn't any exception, but exceptions were rare to come across. Bane was steady, in most respects, where it mattered to himself. Since his leg had healed, his focus had been primarily on exploration. When he wanted to move faster, he would switch to his half-shifted form and run. Winter had arrived, and the worst was yet to come. Any wolf would do well to know his surroundings.
His purposeful walk brought him to a place he had not yet visited. It was place like the Dampwoods, but thicker, with moisure heavier in the air; he breathed heavily as he moved through the crowded trees, eyes alert and mind focused. The cold was crisp and welcome in his lungs and on his feet. Nova Scotia wasn't much different from the place he had been last, and his arctic heritage made it easy to adjust.
A noise in the distance drew his attention and he walked towards it. Strangers were accomodating here. It was something that still made him wary, but he had a cat's curiosity and rarely resisted the call. Luck was always on his side. As he neared, he spotted a girl, kneeling on the ground with a hatchet, hacking away at a fallen log. Firewood, no doubt -- but a lady assigned to do such backbreaking work? A man like him, with his strong arms and broad shoulders, had been expected to do the hard work back home. And he had done it gladly. "Good morning, miss," he greeted her cordially. He kept a distance between them, partially to avoid seeming overbearing or threatening, and partially so he could see her clearly. Bane tended only to wear his glasses when necessary. "Would you like any help with that?"
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[html] | | | At some point amidst her wood chopping, Rachias' mind had wandered to the events of only weeks before, finding the cottage burnt to the ground, leaving nothing but burnt debris and charred remains. Her motions with the hatchet were haphazard, slamming down against the wood as if angry, taking out all of her frustrations. Angry at who though? Her father, just because he died? Rachias couldn't be angry at him for dying, despite the sickly feeling that took over her stomach when she thought about it, that small bit of her that wondered if his death had been purposeful, if he'd brought it on himself. Was that why he had danced with her that day? Given her his book? Maybe it was all coincidence and maybe she was only angry at the world for taking him from her just when she felt like she had gotten him.
The voice of a stranger brought her mind back from where it had wandered to and after a moment the hacking of wood stopped. Rachias lay the hatchet down on the log before turning her head some, lifting blue eyes to meet the darker male. "Good Morning." The warm sound of her voice didn't match the dismal mood she had found herself in only moments before. Eyes were curious as she looked him over, even more-so when he offered his assistance with her task. She considered his words a moment, not usually the kind to seek help from strangers, but gave a nod of her head. "Sure, I guess my arms are getting a little tired." She was used to taking care of herself, for the most part, but that didn't mean her body didn't get tired in the process.
"I'm Rachias. Rachias Tears." Again, neglecting to release her full given name, the was just something about the entire thing that didn't sit right with her. Perhaps it was the fact that, if her father had been of sound mind at the time, he wouldn't have add de Ame to her name. Pushing those thoughts away, Rachias scooted across the ground some, just off to the side to make room for the stranger to assist her. "You from around here?" She'd been in her own little world for so long she could have never really noticed anyone.
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[html] http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v298/ ... blebg3.png);background-repeat:no-repeat;background-position:bottom">SWAYING TO THE RHYTHM
OF THE NEW WORLD ORDER
cakeShe accepted his offer and he was glad for it; there were few things less appealing than an ungrateful lady. With a brief smile, eyes as vacant and intense as ever, the dark wolf moved forward and took her spot in the snow. He put on his glasses as he picked up her hatchet. It was a good to be able to see while doing this kind of thing. And then he set to work, the very sound of the blade reminding him of days past, days he had left behind to rot in memory. He focused instead on the current, and the chocolate-coloured halfling woman who sat before him. She smelled of the forest, and nothing more. A loner, one of the smart ones.
cakeRachias Tears. As she said the words, he lifted his eyes to her face without moving his head, studying her face. Despite having had found his glasses before meeting Laruku, Bane didn't recall much of what the man had looked like. He remembered the unseeing eyes, the too-thin body, the smell in the air of death as he lingered, waiting and watching. A curious thing, this was. "In a sense, yes, I am from here. I was born here, ma'am, but raised elsewhere." It was a question he was asked frequently, an appropriate conversation starter, he figured. "I apologise if it's none of my business, Miss Tears, but you wouldn't be related to Laruku Tears in any way?" Mild curiosity tinged his low baritone, and his eyes flitted back down to the log as he spoke, intent on continuing his work. Strange turn of events, if her answer was yes: for once, it would be him recognising a stranger for something.
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[html] | | | The glasses that he put on immediately caught the woman's attention, they were curious things. She's seen them before, read about them and seen them in pictures with humans wearing them, but it had never occurred to her that a wolf, or canine of any type, might be able to use them to aid their vision. If only for a moment, she wondered if a pair of glasses might have been able to help her father see, though the rational part of her mind told her that his vision was to far gone for that. He hadn't even been able to see her just across the table, she doubted he had been able to see her as close as they were while they had been dancing. Anything to make her feel worse about his death though, with the prospect that he might have been able to use glasses and the fire may have never started in the first place. She could still imagine him burning to death in her head, it wasn't a vision easily gotten rid of.
His words took the image right away though, they caught her off guard and for a moment she only stared at him. Finally, after quiet consideration of how he might have known her father, she gave a nod of her head. "He is.. was my father." She really didn't know the proper way to put it. Even in death, he was still her father, right? "He passed on a few weeks ago." He killed himself, it was an accident, it was murder. Even now, she really didn't know, and saying that he passed on was the only way that she could think to put it. It was sad and heartbreaking, no matter what terms she used. "Did you know him well?"
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[html] http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v298/ ... blebg3.png);background-repeat:no-repeat;background-position:bottom">SWAYING TO THE RHYTHM
OF THE NEW WORLD ORDER
cakeBane saw the change in her face and sensed it in the air, and he knew he had been right in his assumption before she replied. So that sorry hybrid, blind and half-dead, sitting in that cabin in the middle of nowhere, had had children. Bane found he vaguely regretted asking. He was inquisitive enough, but preferred not to be nosy, particularily around a lady. Even if she were a halfling, and therefore less than whole. Less than him. These were the old truths and he knew he had to move on. Unfortunately, beliefs were difficult to shake when their foundation was set in concrete.
cake"My condolences," Bane told the chocolate-coloured hybrid, knowing well that death affected some much worse than others. Then again, he had never lost a parent, not directly. His mother he had never known, his father he had never cared for. He felt no surprise at all for Laruku's death; it was something he had predicted, something anyone should have been able to tell. "No, I didn't know him personally. I met him only once. Both my parents knew him, my father likely a little better." It was obvious by his tone what he was insinuating. It was something a little strange to the dark wolf; that kind of thing hadn't been tolerated where he had come from, yet at the same time there wasn't a part of him that honestly cared. With as kind a smile as the sharp-eyed wolf could manage, he glanced back up at the lady from his wood chopping. His words were genuine. "I apologise if I've upset you by asking, Miss Tears."
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