I don't wish to evade the world | OTA

[unsheathedfromreality]

Who: Illarion, Ives, and anyone else sucked into the chaos vortex
What: A yurtwarming party + memories and misadventures (in comments)
When: Whenever
Where: Wherever
Shakira: Shakira

Content Warnings: Will warn per prompt!

November had been a cruel month for all Trench, mired in corruption and sacrifice; December had opened no better with its piercing chill and Sleepers pit one against the other by an ancient and echoing folly. Darkbloods in particular had been afflicted with the compounding feeling of control slipping through their fingers, and even Illarion--whose dead heart was beyond most emotions (so he thought)--couldn't escape the sense that everything was about to go horribly, irrevocably wrong if he didn't rein it in.

So he'd vanished into Trenchwood to get control of his life existence and somehow ended up building a couple of yurts with Ives. Funny, how that worked out.

Forever my home (OTA-ish, with Ives, early January, Trenchwood)
With the start of the year and the advent of the Egg Moon, life (and undeath) is suddenly looking a lot more positive. Once they'd finished their house-building, Illarion noted (and Ives agreed) that there were certain forms to be upheld: They should invite other Sleepers over to visit. Invitations trickled out over Omni and Omen to people they know, informing them of a new Lamp location and offering an opportunity for food, camaraderie, and conversation away from the heated and busy confines of the Snake Den.

The square for their odd little village of two (sometimes three) is where all the action's at, for any who come looking in response to the invitation. The fire pit is the center of attention: Large enough to contain a bonfire, lined with hand-laid stone, and often host to a simmering stewpot with food enough to share. Several logs surround it at a comfortable distance from the heat, allowing ease and conversation. Ives' yurt stands nearby, just large enough to give the Giant a sheltered place to sleep, and a small covered well with attendant pail offers fresh water. The Lamp, and its Lamp Friends (decorated with ribbon for the season), are opposite the fire from the yurt and a little ways into the trees. Discreet incense burners ring the clearing in a faint pall of smoke, with scents of pine and wet moss that pleasantly smooth Trenchwood's harsher odors--and more importantly, keep the beasts away.

A path leads away from the fire, off toward the distant mirror of the Salt Lake, permanently red this month thanks to Moon Presence's... presence. Sleepers with very sharp eyes might make out the mounded shadow of another yurt in that direction.

One or both of the Giant and the shrike might be found hanging around the place if expecting guests. Ives may be tending to a fine vegetable stew, attending to various little maintenance tasks, or simply sitting at his ease by the fire. He's also acquired a pan flute at some point and is looking for any excuse to play it. Illarion's often keeping incense lit, mending gear and cleaning weapons, or when he's in the mood--and that's often, this month--holding forth in story or song to anyone around to listen.

((OOC: Let us know if you want one furry, the other, or both on your tag in!))

Comments

[hammerbearer]

There's definitely a difference in an elf (or elezen depending on which world you're from) she knows and Illarion's type. One that had been pretty obvious at a second glance and a large reason for her apology, uneasiness aside.

Which brings them around to the matter of food and barter; the bowl held out and Gaia trying to weigh the risk vs benefit. When her stomach growls again at getting a good waft of the meal it's clear internal negotiations over how much caution is needed are rapidly deteriorating.

"That's it? Alright." Any wariness over such an easy barter you hear in her voice is almost certainly token. Hungry teenager is hungry.

"I'll start with my name first and the story after I eat, if that's alright with you?" Consider her name collateral? She reaches for the bowl before hesitating as if thinking maybe she should actually get confirmation on that caveat before taking the offering. "My name's Gaia."

[unsheathedfromreality]

Truly, Illarion knows teenagers. It's universally true across Nephele's species that the creatures could, and would, eat like they're starving at any opportunity.

So he tries not to smile more at the sound of her stomach growling, as she weighs the barter she's being offered and does exactly what he expected.

"More than. Please--eat. An empty belly does not always improve a story, despite what they are saying."

Truly, as much as he'd like to hear a new story, the barter's for her benefit. If she only gives him her name and dashes off after eating, it's no injury for him. In fact, once she's got her bowl in-hand: "Take your time. If you need another bowl, you may feel free. I will be nearby when you are ready with your story."

He'll potter around their little village while she eats, attending to whatever chores are needed. Never out of earshot, but hardly watching her like a hawk, either.

[hammerbearer]

"Alright." Once the deal's settled, Gaia seems just fine with accepting it at face value. Or more accurately deciding that she wouldn't feel like she owes any more than her name and a story.

She finds a place to settle with the bowl and dig into the stew. At first she tries for restraint; being brought up in Eulmore gives her an instinct for table manners and maybe some of that token caution effort has made her think she should eat slowly.

One... two spoonfuls. And she breaks again. While her manners don't devolve into a barbarian level of bowl drinking, she's definitely taking the soup in with gusto. Compliments to the chef.

There's a sigh of peace as the warmth of a filling meal sinks into Gaia, staving off the bitterly cold weather (which had been getting through despite the layers of her clothing). The fire is also helping.

She has been watching Illarion working around the... yard? Village? By this time her surroundings are becoming more interesting too and maybe she's seen the second yurt in the distance. Or at least the suggestion there's more than one person here. Hmm.

She seems to have gauged Illarion as, if not friendly, then at least neutral. Bartering is okay. Prying into their private life, maybe not so much.

"Would you mind if I took the second bowl with me?" As hungry as she is and would prefer to have had seconds right then and there, she's learned early that having something for another meal later is more beneficial than a full belly now.

As an example of what she means, a gourd is pulled out of her pack. Hollowed and made proof against leakage, with a tight lid, it would be perfect as a makeshift thermos. Well, if it could keep temperatures. For this, it's good for storage. Filling it would be a little more than a bowl's worth but she doesn't appear to have designs to take advantage of this.

[unsheathedfromreality]

Even without the cozy little campground Ives and Illarion have made for themselves, there in the woods, the Giant's cooking alone would be a draw. It's little surprise to Illarion whenever someone would rather eat than talk--nor is it much of one that their latest guest would rather have her second helping later.

Or, well, given teenagers, maybe it's a little bit of a surprise, but a pleasant one, that she's already learned that much of prudence while in Trench. "I would not mind," he answers her, from where he's checking the contents of a drying rack. "Nor would I mind trading you more food, if you are in need for later.

"You have not been missing meals, have you?" It's the echo of a fatherly instinct, to ensure those around him are well-fed.