|
Post by Red Irish Dragon on Apr 12, 2019 17:05:12 GMT
Ironically, it was her exclamation and step back that made Soren flinch, eyeing her hands as if convinced she was going to try to punch him again. And he would likely continue to be concerned about that for the duration of their time together, until he had repaid his debt.
While he had won the argument, Soren’s expression never did slide into the anticipated smirk. If anything, it went even more sour, greatly disliking the thought of how long it might take to repay her. She was injured, so that meant when attacked he was in a better position to save her… but they had also taken great efforts to avoid being followed, so who knew when they might be attacked in order for her to need saving…
Ugh. This was already getting complicated.
Rather than respond to her retort about doing “as he pleased” - because of course playing babysitter was an idea that “pleased” him - he made a face at her later words, making it clear quickly what he found problematic.
“Rabbits? Why can’t we catch something decently sized?” he complained, with his stomach growling as if timed. Of course, his first thought went back to hunting deer, but - considering how reluctantly she was accepting his presence - he decided against revealing the wolf, given how many hours it took to change back. And if anything would now convince her to run from him, it would be that.
Instead he tried to think of something other than lean, minuscule, mostly skin and bone rabbits that he could hunt… but boar needed the wolf as much if not more than deer did. Bear was most certainly out of the question… ugh. If they were near a town he’d happily grab one of their pigs or sheep, but he couldn’t scent anything of the sort.
Damn. Was he really going to be stuck chewing on rabbit bones for food?
Maybe it would be worth scaring her to get a decent meal…
|
|
|
Post by Kelathi on Apr 12, 2019 21:01:31 GMT
She looked over to him questioningly at his outburst, as if trying to weigh up if he was being serious or not. “Unless you’re intending to catch dinner with your bare hands, then we’d need a bow and arrows for anything bigger.” As they walked, her hand happened to brush against the hatchet at her waist, and a small smile slipped onto her lips. It was soon clear as to why, as she hoisted it out, and appeared to weigh it in her hand for a moment, before making an experimental motion with it as if she intended to throw it. “I could try and lob this at a deer?” she ventured, her voice deadpan and only a flicker of a smile on her lips betraying her humour.
|
|
|
Post by Red Irish Dragon on Apr 14, 2019 2:38:34 GMT
“Rabbits are little more than fist sized,” Soren muttered under his breath, annoyed with her comment, although for reasons she probably would not suspect. Catching dinner with his bare hands… he could, if he wanted to scare her.
His stomach was making that seem less and less of a bad thing.
Also, given how she was not one to stand down… maybe it wouldn’t scare her after all. But he was still dismissive of her, not wanting to admit that she might be able to stand on her own. It ruined his hope of a quick save to repay his debt and let them part ways.
This awareness of her potentially causing him problems that underlined his view of her was why her hand going to the hatchet earned a dark glare. It was impressive he didn’t flinch, given the look he gave her for experimentally testing its weight, again expecting to become her target. Especially given the little smile that alighted on her lips.
“Oh yes,” he began at her question, rolling his eyes. “And when the deer throws it back at you we’ll see how useless a venture it ended up being.”
|
|
|
Post by Kelathi on Apr 14, 2019 19:44:32 GMT
If she was aware of how he tensed as her hand went to her weapon, she made no mention of it. His comment about the deer, however, earned a chuckle, surprising even herself with her reaction. “If that happened, I’d be too impressed to worry about a hunting failure!” She commented, amused at the image he had conjured in her mind, tucking the hatchet back into it’s original place.
|
|
|
Post by Red Irish Dragon on Apr 14, 2019 21:10:34 GMT
Soren only shot a sour glance at her chuckle, not having intended to provide amusement. Ugh. This task was already getting tiresome, and it had barely begun.
Most of the rest of their walk that day was in silence, Soren seemingly more resilient to the cold than Brynja was in her furs - although if this was because the cold didn’t bother him as much, or because he didn’t want to admit that it bothered him as much, was unclear. They finally tracked down a small cave, barely deep enough for the small party, but it provided cover from the wind and was mostly bereft of snow, making it an ideal shelter for the night.
Not that Soren admitted as much, perpetually kept in his foul mood. Then again, every so often his stomach would growl audibly, giving at least one reason for his mood. And for his perpetual obsession with how much was available to eat, given his sneer as Brynja began setting the rabbit snares, arms folded as he looked about, hoping for traces of anything that would provide… well, food.
His sulking about the area finally proved fruitful, as he finally came across the lacy ice that covered a small river, which swelled out away into a much wider, deeper space than was easily passable. But Soren’s nose was telling him as he cracked some of the surface ice that there was fish in the water. With no desire to try and freeze later, Soren quickly stripped his shirt and tunic and tossed them onto a rock he first dusted off, then tossed his boots alongside. After rolling up the hems of his trousers, he slipped into the water, which came up to just below his knees as he moved away from the frozen shallows. He waited, remarkably still for the cold water, before one of his targets swam by. There were several fish in the water, he could have tried for several already, but he recognized the type of fish.
With one quick gesture, his hands shot into the water, hauling a sizable carp out as he twisted, flinging the fish onto the shore where it flopped about. Rather than settle on the one, Soren continued, waiting and catching another large fish with every strike into the water. Two of the ones he caught were likely to be enough for the two travelers, but he kept going until he had five, the last two progressively smaller than the others and showing he hadn’t gotten too cold, or was satisfied with his catch, but rather was running out of decently sized fish to go after.
Even though he was handling the snow fairly well, by the time he got out of the river with his prizes, dried off, dressed and had headed back towards the camp, he was pale from the cold. The fish were carried by a rope tied about their tails, and unceremoniously dropped inside their shelter as he curled up by the fire, an uncommon look of gratitude in his gaze as he put his hands up to the flames, bending his fingers to try and restore warmth to them.
“I brought dinner,” he said as if defensive against something Brynja had said, glancing at the fish rather than gesturing his cold fingers. What also seemed curious was how he phrased the remark, clearly viewing the decently sized haul as a single meal, rather than enough for a few meals.
|
|
|
Post by Kelathi on Apr 14, 2019 22:23:31 GMT
Snares set, Brynja began to work on building the basis of a fire. As she did so, Soren hung on the fringes of sight, although she paid him no visible mind as she set about collecting branches and ringing the pile with rocks, so that the fire, once lit, wouldn’t spread beyond the border. Soon enough, he disappeared from sight altogether, leaving her alone with what was now a decent fire, which hummed and crackled happily within it’s confines. It was large enough not to be tampered by the wind and sheltered enough from the intermittent snow by the roof of the shallow cave. As Brynja watched Soren go, she was curious as to his intentions despite the unreadable expression on her face, but even so she sighed as he finally disappeared from sight. Slouching a little, she folded over slightly with a wince, no longer having to hide her discomfort now that the man was gone. She tucked one arm against herself and put pressure on the wound, which seemed to relieve the pain somewhat. In Soren’s presence, she had been putting on the appearance that she was strong and sturdy as ever, but had felt herself weakening under the strain of injury as well as the lack of a decent night’s sleep. She was looking forwards to perhaps finally getting some proper rest tonight, without the constant rocking of the ocean in the background and the all-consuming wariness that she might be stabbed in the night. Whilst she would not go as far as to claim that she trusted Soren, she knew now that he had little reason to harm her, and after so avidly insisting that they stay together it did not make sense for him to want to do so.
After a few moments, she stirred again, aware that her eyes had become lidded, and she forced herself to sit up. Slowly, she pulled off her gloves, warming her bare hands by the fire instead. The brief lull in snow was beginning to abate, the snowflakes falling slowly and swirling delicately through the air as they came to rest gently on the frozen ground. Within minutes, they were falling hard and fast, and she was thankful for the shelter. She found herself wondering not for the first time, where Soren had gotten to.
He arrived soon after, carrying with him a bunch of… fish? At his words, she stared at him blankly for a moment, her gaze falling back to the fish with a surprised expression. “How did you catch them?” rather than sounding sarcastic, her words were genuinely questioning. The largest was especially impressive, and she pulled the lot over to herself, turning the carp over in her hands and noticing no trauma to it’s scales, or rather, no stab wounds. He hadn’t used some kind of makeshift spear, then. A small net, perhaps? Had he taken it from the boat?
|
|
|
Post by Red Irish Dragon on Apr 14, 2019 22:36:21 GMT
In spite of the warmth from the fire, or perhaps in part because now part of him was getting warm, Soren was shivering as he huddled near the fire, almost looking like he’d happily curl up in the middle of it. His distaste for his own shivering made him glare at Brynja as she questioned how he had gotten the fish, huffing.
“There’s a river not far from here, still has water in parts where they’re hibernating. I stood in the shallows and caught them by hand. How else am I nearly turning into ice myself?” he growled, too hunched over and cold to put any real power or tremor behind his words. He was also too cold to want to venture away from the fire to grab sticks to skewer the fish and thus cook them, already able to see crystals of ice forming on their scales from the short walk back.
|
|
|
Post by Kelathi on Apr 14, 2019 22:57:37 GMT
“You caught them by hand?” She echoed, a note of disbelief in her tone as she studied him. She had fished in rivers herself, of course, but always with the use of a spear, and never in the midst of winter, at such a time only sea-fishermen would have any luck. In the summer it was easy to catch trout as they made their way upstream, in some rivers the water was even teeming with their presence. Not only was it highly unlikely for Soren to be able to find such fish at this time of year, but after disturbing them she would have thought it impossible to catch more than one. Yet, evidence that he had done both of those things lay right in front of her.
Without another word, she stood, circling the fire and stepping out into the flurry of eddying snowflakes. She returned moments later, carrying pointed sticks, as if reading Soren’s mind about skewering the fish. Dropping them by where she had been seated, she shrugged off the furs, and perhaps in a surprising gesture, offered them to Soren. “You said it yourself, you look practically frozen.” She commented firmly, dropping the fur cloak next to him when he did not immediately reach for it, and returning to her place. Seating herself, she drew out the small blade from it’s sheath at her waist, and began to scale and gut the fish expertly, one by one.
Without the furs, the damage caused by her wound to her clothing was starkly visible, if not the wound itself. The side of her tunic was almost black with dried blood, a small hole where the blade had shredded the material revealing the darkened and bloodied bandage underneath.
|
|
|
Post by Red Irish Dragon on Apr 15, 2019 1:41:08 GMT
Again, Soren’s glare returned to Brynja. As if his fingers, paler than usual, weren’t proof enough. “They were hibernating there,” he grumbled, almost like a child, a little more than annoyed at her disbelief. He was too irritated to even pay much attention to her standing and moving about, although his stomach was pleased to see she had brought the sticks for the fish back with her.
Her offer of the furs, however, earned a wary look, Soren remaining still other than his gaze flickering up to meet hers. He remained still like this even as she dropped the cloak and returned to her seat, his gaze following her, as if suspicious of her actions. But his shivering finally defeated his pride and paranoia, awkwardly shuffling the cloak over him, again picking up a few unfamiliar scents mixed in with hers.
Soren watched Brynja as she worked with the fish, although it wasn’t the fish he was eyeing. The cloak had one other familiar scent to it, that of her injury, starkly visible against her side. He knew it was bad from the scent and how much there was of it, but it was still an impressive injury. Not for the first time, he wondered who on earth would go after the lead-fisted woman in the first place, never mind get close enough to deal such a blow.
It also wasn’t the first time he wondered why an injured woman would save someone she didn’t know or trust. He’d managed to convince her to dislike him, so why save him? Especially since she was already so badly injured?
His eyes finally moved back to the fire, biting back the feeling of needing to do something since she was injured. And that he was wearing her furs again. For a human… she was certainly confusing.
|
|
|
Post by Kelathi on Apr 15, 2019 19:41:26 GMT
Whilst Brynja prepared the fish, she seemed unaware of Soren’s intense gaze, so he was able to stare pretty much to his heart’s content. Her movements were methodical and well-practiced, as with most Vikings she was used to preparing her own food, whether it be beast or fish. Were weather conditions better, she would have liked to smoke the fish and save much of it for later, but needs must, and judging by Soren’s constantly rumbling stomach, quantity would be welcomed over quality. His impromptu haul did mean that she would not need to check on the snares tonight after their bellies were full from such a meal, she would instead collect any catches tomorrow. Although judging by Soren's adverse reaction to the prospect of such a meal, she suspected that she would likely be the only one eating them.
Fish prepared, speared and cooking, she finally sat back, leaning her back against the cave wall. Despite not having the furs, the fire did well enough to keep her warm in their absence, and the small party were lucky in that the wind was passing by at an angle, rather than billowing into the small space. Even so, it was strange to not feel the comforting presence of the heavy cloak about her shoulders, in fact she felt bare without it.
Brynja finally lifted her gaze to meet Soren’s, noticing that he was still watching her, although his eyes flickered back to the fire. A questioning look overcame her features, silently asking why he was studying her so intently. Maybe he had something he wanted to say?
|
|
|
Post by Red Irish Dragon on Apr 16, 2019 16:14:58 GMT
The smell of the cooking fish began to distract Soren from his careful study of Brynja, considering her motives and fueling his suspicions of her. Despite the fact that she had saved him. That he was finally starting to feel warm under the heavy furs, thus eliminating his shiver.
In a bid to avoid simply pouncing on the fish - had he been alone, he’d have likely eaten them raw - he let his eyes wander back to the woman, catching her questioning look. Soren only just managed to avoid making a face at her unspoken question, raising his shoulders and neatly bringing the furs up around his face, as if attempting to hide from view.
This didn’t hide the fact that his eyes fell back on her injured side, or the fact that he almost looked annoyed by the fact that her side was injured at all. It did hide the momentarily curled lip, however, and the silent sigh that accompanied it. She’d refuse, he was sure, but… well, he was there only because he owed her.
“This thing’s big enough for two,” he finally grumbled, raising his shoulder again to jostle and so indicate the cloak, not wanting to lose the warmth himself but aware that an injury did not heal well when cold.
|
|
|
Post by Kelathi on Apr 17, 2019 22:40:27 GMT
Soren seemed content to stare, but not so happy to receive such a gaze himself. Brynja looked away, but not before she saw his eyes stray to her wounded side. Maybe he was curious about how she had acquired it. Her mind flitted back over the events that had led up to her being stabbed, but she pushed them away quickly, preferring to focus on the present and the future rather than the past. Thinking on the past made her think of him, and thinking of him made her feel…
She mentally shook herself, a small sigh exiting her lips as she leant forwards and re-adjusted one of the fish, the flesh now tender and almost ready to eat. Thoughts elsewhere, Soren’s voice cut sharply through her silent musing. As she glanced over at him, it took her a moment to register what he had actually said, and what he was implying. Instead of appearing offended, which he perhaps thought she would be after her response to him offering his bed before, her expression softened somewhat. Even if he was offering his help begrudgingly, he was still offering it, and it was clear by his grumbling tone how much it hurt his pride to do so. Either way, it seemed more sincere than before, and in the short time she'd known him she'd come to see there were no lecherous ulterior motives. “If you’re offering to share the cloak, the fire has warmed me enough. You keep it for now.” But as she leaned forwards to move the smaller, and now cooked, pieces of fish from the fire, she spoke again. “Although later, when the fire begins to die, it would be appreciated.” She lay the strips of fish down on a flat rock, handing the first portion over to him. As much as she didn't relish the idea of being that close to a stranger, it would be foolish not to share the furs in weather like this.
|
|
|
Post by Red Irish Dragon on Apr 17, 2019 23:17:34 GMT
As expected, Soren’s reluctant offer was refused, but in an unexpected manner. A softened look, a gentle refusal, and a note that perhaps she’d take it back later. From behind the furs, he narrowed his gaze at her, once more taking her odd behavior as something to be suspicious of.
Of course, there was little she could do that he wouldn’t be trying to sort as that… it was what he’d learn to expect from humans. So while she was busy disproving much of what he knew, he was instead marking it as something to be wary of her for the future.
The offer of food was accepted more readily than she might have guessed, given how he was intentionally framing her in his mind. He probably would rationalize it later as he had watched her, ergo he would have seen her slip something into it. But for now, he accepted the fish, and it didn’t take long to realize that he wasn’t picking the bones out of it before swallowing.
Of the five fish he had caught, Soren managed to let Brynja have one entirely to herself. The cloak had half sagged off of his shoulders as he ate eagerly, continuing to skip pulling the bones out first and only deigning to nibble the spines clean. One fish was a full meal for a human, but his stomach only began to settle as he licked his fingers clean of the fourth, a soft rumble showing appreciation for the meal. For the first time, appreciation rather than annoyance.
It was also obviously completely unintentional, as Brynja’s look of confusion at the sound made Soren sharply aware of it, cutting it short and glaring out at the blowing snow.
|
|
|
Post by Kelathi on Apr 21, 2019 20:00:57 GMT
As she tried to concentrate on eating, it was difficult not to let her eyes stray back to her companion every now and again. He was practically devouring any food that came his way, and although she was happy to let him do so, she was still amazed to see how much he was managing to put away, and how ravenously he did so. As he rumbled appreciatively, a low guttural animalistic sound, her eyes widened slightly in surprise as she looked over. This time, it seemed her attention was noted, as he cut the sound short and deigned instead to glare out into the blizzard.
Finishing her own meal, she chucked the last of the bones into the fire, the flames lapping at them eagerly. She could sense the tension rolling off of Soren in waves, and this was beginning to put her on edge. Initially, she had thought his wariness towards her would ease once her weapons were placed aside, she was, after all, a heavily armed stranger to him. But despite this having been done as they settled down into the cave, her hatchet and sword resting against the wall with her satchel, and despite doggedly insisting that they stay together, it was clear that her presence still put him on edge.
“Do you have a family out there somewhere?”
She found herself asking, suddenly. The reasoning for her question was two-fold. For one thing, it was a way to fill the silence, but for another, it was an opening to learn more about each other- maybe some conversation might ease the tension somewhat.
|
|
|
Post by Red Irish Dragon on Apr 24, 2019 18:52:34 GMT
It probably would have shocked Brynja to see Soren with a deer, if she thought his hunger great with the fish… but Soren wasn’t paying attention to that, too busy glowering at the storm that he would normally have hidden in a town for. The fire was a welcome source of warmth, but relied on dry tinder that was in short supply in such conditions. He only had one other method for staying warm enough in the snow, but it wasn’t a side he wanted to show to the woman just yet.
Why? Well… it would… it was… she’d…
No, it would likely scare her and make paying his debt that much more complicated if he had to pin her in place or stalk her, so he wouldn’t use it for that reason.
He resisted a growl as his thoughts and suspicions swirled as madly as the snow did outside the cave, which in turn soured his mood. Because of her, he wasn’t able to just vent his frustrations with a howl. This was why he didn’t answer her question immediately, distracted and not realizing she had even asked for a few moments. Finally, his green eyes slid over to her, then back out to the snow before answering.
“No.”
Clearly, he wasn’t unhappy with the tension in the air between them, or the silence. But with another quick glance at Brynja, Soren only just caught the beginning of a grumble. “I’ve always been alone.”
There. He’d given her a full answer.
|
|