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| From Darkness, Light; A hunter's debut. | |
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| Topic Started: Aug 5 2011, 06:08 PM (320 Views) | |
| Deleted User | Aug 5 2011, 06:08 PM Post #1 |
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He considered the possibility of rain; but crouched there, wreathed in shadow, he could not tell whether it would. Embracing his place among the unknown and unseeable, Treiz felt himself shiver. His eyes scanned upward, but the deep canopy in that part of the forest would not permit further sight. Visibility was minimal, but the cloaked hunter could plainly see the clearing ahead - the pond that elk often came to for sustenance and relaxation. Relaxation - a word that had become foreign to him. Foreign so much as his principal definition of the word had become "to hire a lady of 'ill' repute, and enjoy her company for as long as she permits" in the village of Brienne. It was the place he intended to go with his catch, that morning. It was standard faire for the hunter - shoot down some larger beast, take the meat for your own meals in the future, and sell the skins to enjoy some amount of 'luxury' with a lady he took a fancy toward. But these were not the considerations that characterized a hunter, and thusly, as he reminded himself of this fact, the hunter's eyes returned to the clearing ahead. His bow was ready in his hand in front of him, the free right hand ready and waiting with a self-made arrow in-tow. He enjoyed a concealed location, about thirty yards from the pond in the middle of the clearing - and from the pond, he had a perimeter of about fifteen yards (with your usual refuse and natural formations) to play with. The wind rustling through the underbrush also betrayed a favorable position for him, coming from the west, blowing the stench of beasts upon him (and not the other way around). He saw little. A butterfly winged its way around his hooded face, and a mosquito landed for a moment on the shoulder of his cloak - but Treiz smashed it with a quick swat of his hand a half-second afterword. It had been a full hour so far. For many other men, such would have marked the end of a long hunt. For Treiz Halister, however, it marked the point where he would need his next drink of water. The man hiding in the shade of the vines all around him reached down and retrieved a flask full of pristine water from the Amaranth Falls. He chugged it, feeling the thirst that was apparent to any man of his size at that point in time, and the clean water washed through his system, clearing his senses and telling his body that the wait it had endured would be worth it. He certainly hoped so. Sitting there, his bow ahead of him, with his body staying so still within the shadows of the forest he was given as his home, Treiz Halister was thinking at that very moment merely about the catch he might have. He was waiting for Elk - thirsty elk that would come from their home in the nearby hills to find some water that would slake their thirst from the long pilgrimage. It was why they came. It was why, every summer, the young hunter from Brienne had prospered. These foolish animals, built by any higher power to perform the service he was about to bestow upon them, were made to feed him. To give him the means to feed, and, perhaps indirectly (depending on how you looked upon it), to enjoy himself. Treiz could not help the fact that his thoughts usually trailed off on these long hunts. His mind could not satisfy itself for hours on end merely thinking about what he enjoyed, or what was denied to him. His mind needed food to occupy him when there was nothing else to keep it tame. His mind needed sustenance, as these animals did, to keep it going when there was nothing else there for it to feast upon. His mind would've given considerable thanks, then, when the first large game of his hunt came into vision - and when Treiz Halister, a man who would have been recognized by any name but his own, nocked his next arrow with the intention of putting it down. |
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| Nausicaa | Aug 6 2011, 01:28 PM Post #2 |
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Although he had been hoping for elk to come down to the falls to satiate their thirst during their migration patterns, he instead received a different sort of horned creature, though she was considerably more graceful and more beautiful. Her head broke the water's surface, her long watery tresses spilling about her face and shoulders in ringlets, looking as they always did. Some even thought they were made of water itself, though the naiad would never answer the question. Instead, she simply laughed and smiled, turned her sapphire gaze away and didn't say a word. But, generally, it was not her hair that others noticed first, nor the creamy white of her skin set against such dark lashes and dark eyes - it was the horns. Two horns curved from the sides of her head, appeared as if they belonged to a bighorn sheep, though they were significantly lighter in colour. The naiad had her back to the man - she knew he was there, she'd seen him when she'd first entered the river and he had been sitting there patiently, waiting - her hair covering most of her back, though he would have been able to easily see the contours of her hips, bare because, obviously, one did not go swimming with their clothing on. The dip into the river had been necessary, the feeling that she hadn't spent nearly enough time in water as of late preying upon her mind. The naiad in her had been calling and now that it was content, the succubus in her blood flared, awoke, breathed. Nausicaa disappeared for a minute, into the underbrush, tugging boots, skirt, and bodice back on, retrieving her glaive from hiding. She was using it as a walking staff today, not at all afraid of the one across the river. If she had been his target she would have already been dead by now. Nausicaa returned to the shore, stood across the way from him, watching. It was evident she knew that he was there. She wondered if she had foiled his plans at all - likely, as she had seen no elk here since he'd arrived and she'd slipped into the cool, rushing waters - and if he would call her out on it, tell her to get out of the way so that he could do his job. Mischief called her visage a home as she held her ground, leaning against her glaive. Let us see what he will do, she thought, the gentle breeze that toyed with the underbrush blowing through her hair. The warmth of the day would no doubt dry her hair quickly, tendrils of it already touching her cheek, tickling. She wouldn't approach him just yet - not until she knew that he wouldn't shoot her. Accidentally or otherwise. |
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| Deleted User | Aug 7 2011, 10:52 AM Post #3 |
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Some in his day had suggested to Treiz that the most terrible chapters in a man's life began, always, with the unexpected presence of a maddeningly beautiful woman. Sitting in the bushes, deep in the confines of Soto's dominant woodland, he had expected to find anything but. Perhaps, then, he should have included horned sirens in his expectations - perhaps that would have lessened his surprise, and the sheer influence this woman had instantly claimed over his senses. The moment she had stepped out of the water, horns and all, his eyes had declared their affection. His mind, however, screamed caution, and his body obeyed for the moment. Larger, sentient creatures of nature, like this naiad, were often unpredictable beings. Tales held that they loved playing games with the lives of mortal men, preying on emotions and the senses themselves. But who was the prey in this equation - the human, a readied bow steady in his hands; or the naiad with her glaive, as entrancing with clothing and blade as she had been bare naked rising from the deep? Or was this one different, even? A lady of the forest, guardian of the waters, who merely enjoyed teasing the eyes of grown men? Something struck him oddly about her. The defiance in her stance, and the playful nature of her eyes almost uneased him. And the horns - almost magnificent, on their own. Where had they come from? In all his tales, the advent of a naiad lady with horns had never come into play. He could not understand what exactly it was in all his considerations that caused him to finally loosen and lower his bow. He finally brought himself to a standing position, twisting and bending slightly to pop his back. He shook out the fatigue of his own legs and feet, and put his bow and arrow in their places at the quiver on his back. His single sword tapped against his leg and waist as he made his way out of the chosen coverage, and when he stepped into the grass of the wide clearing around the pond, his voice called out across the water to the naiad from the deep. "Forgive me, lady, if I've disturbed your home. I expected different creatures would rest here, tonight." It wasn't exactly the most pertinent point of conversation in his mind - but 'ice-breakers' never hurt. The more pressing concern was: 'what on the gods' earth are you, and why are you packing that blade?' His caution was not entirely unnoticeable - afterall, he hadn't lowered his hood, which was generally the polite thing to do when one spoke with a woman (even in the wild). For all he knew, a clear gaze into his eyes could mesmerize him more than he'd already been. |
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| Nausicaa | Aug 7 2011, 07:29 PM Post #4 |
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She glanced back at him, over her shoulder, having turned her back to him again to observe the forest around her, though it hadn't changed since she'd left it. He had abandoned his hunt - at least, she assumed that was what it was, considering he had his bow pointed at the lake and, though hidden, was not hidden the way she might have expected a sharpshooter to be - to watch her and she only knew that because it was something most men seemed to do when she came around. And it wasn't, of course as if she took some degree of pleasure in it. Not like she didn't enjoy the attention that was sometimes heaped upon her. But it was such a fine line to walk, to be born of two races that thrived on sexual tension but, personality-wise, to be a woman who wasn't overly fond of being touched unless she actually wanted to be. The paradox was something she toyed with frequently. "No, you are not disturbing my home, as my home does not reside within this forest." Nausicaa turned to face him then, eyed him over. She had no way of knowing what he looked like, shadows playing across his face cast by both the trees and the hood, but he looked very much the part of a ranger, a hunter, or someone of that nature. Perhaps he didn't want her to try to woo him - not that a man need be attractive for her to do so - or perhaps he was wary. Creatures of her race, ignoring the demon in her blood, were known to be mischievous, were most certainly known for seducing strangers and, on occasion, leading them to their deaths. But it wasn't sight that Nausicaa required to do such things - some said she also had siren in her blood, as well. She hummed quietly to herself as she watched him, a little tune that, if he were susceptible, would make him feel as though he needed to be closer to her, needed to ford the river that stemmed from the Amaranth Falls. Nausicaa leaned against her polearm with ease, her heeled boots sinking into the bank of the river. She paused in her humming. "Other creatures may rest here tonight - I cannot say. I apologize if I have prevented them from doing so." Her apology was only half-sincere as she really hadn't known he was going to be here and that there would be fresh meat here that he wanted, but she also didn't entirely care. It wasn't as if the Erth'netora was his and only his. She resumed her quiet hum. The sound of her voice was almost heavenly. |
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| Deleted User | Aug 21 2011, 04:26 PM Post #5 |
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(( Sorry about the wait. :s )) Her voice was like that of an angel, but her horns indicated another kind of being entirely. The contradiction therein was only present in Treiz Halister's mind for a second, as the true nature of her song began to touch his weariest senses. The hunter moved toward the water, and his eyes began to seek out the shallowest point he could cross. He spotted a fitting place not far from where he stood, and made his way there with his eyes drifting back and forth between the naiad and the ford. He was not entirely lost in her song, but it was working its magic steadily with each passing moment. Treiz's warning signals were numbed, and his body met the cold of the river with near indifference at the promise of reaching the naiad's side. His blade, protected by its sheath from the water passing about it, was a miniscule concern in the lone hunter's mind. The water was only deep enough at the middle point to cover him up to his waist. As he emerged on the far side, he lowered his hood to allow the woman to regard his bearded face. The lady seemed more beautiful the closer he came (from what she allowed him to see), but he stopped several yards away. Her humming was now eclipsed by her own features in the game of enchanting the hunter's mind, and Treiz admitted in his own thoughts that she was one of the most beautiful creatures he'd ever seen. "I suppose hunting will have to wait," he decided aloud, "if you wouldn't mind to share your presence with me." |
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| Nausicaa | Aug 25 2011, 05:07 PM Post #6 |
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((No worries. =) )) She sang and he came. Was it without thought, without careful consideration on his part? She couldn't say. Some men were strong-willed and resisted the charms of her voice—she had met one such man, in a dream, and he had somehow not been susceptible to her voice, the music neither intoxicating nor pleasing to his ears—but others... Others could not shut it out and, indeed, didn't want to. When they came to her she wasn't unkind to them—she simply turned out to be what they hadn't desired, hadn't expected. Nausicaa turned to face him as he finally forded the river, the echo of a smile playing across her lips. A quiet breeze pulled at her hair, so like water that it was almost impossible to tell them apart, especially when she was actually inhabiting a body of water. "I suppose that if I hadn't wanted to, I wouldn't have disturbed you here." She knew that that simple phrase could come across a number of different ways. She would let him take it however he wished—most men did anyway, so it wasn't as if she were changing anything, defying any sort of established rule, though she often did that too. But the naiad was really only making him feel better. It was almost impossible to say who had showed up first, if he, the hunter, had been waiting long before she, a form of prey, or if it had been the other way around. And then, of course, there was that minor detail that she could have been hunting him. He wouldn't know that, of course, unless he happened to entertain the idea. Nausicaa found him neither attractive nor unattractive, though she wasn't necessarily trying to woo him as, no doubt, seemed to be the case from his perspective. Contrary to popular belief, the naiad was not a harlot and didn't pride herself on being everyone's mistress. She would, however, have described her behaviours as being more along the lines of polyamorous. "I hope I haven't entirely ruined your hunt for the day?" Nausicaa smiled at him, sapphire eyes hooded by long black lashes. She leaned against her glaive, the curved resting lightly against her left horn. |
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