savorda
Dwarf Star
avatar by posy-punch
Posts: 61
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Post by savorda on Nov 27, 2020 16:01:34 GMT -6
See You For What You Are
Late Spring 1702; Afternoon; Hrag-Ba'al |
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savorda
Dwarf Star
avatar by posy-punch
Posts: 61
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Post by savorda on Nov 27, 2020 16:02:26 GMT -6
| E Z R A A C O L Y T E F I R E H E L P M E T O F O R G E T |
Ezra spent most of his days alone. That’s how he liked it. The privacy and the illusion of normalcy comforted him. He liked to pretend he wasn’t centuries out of place, for just a few moments. But then someone would come in, needing a new sword or a helmet repaired, and he was forced to face reality once again. Ezra missed those blissful few months completely unaware of what he was, what he’d done, or where he’d come from. Maybe they all would have been better off unaware. Ancient venom swirled in his chest. It once served to remind him why he came to Hrag-Ba'al in the first place, and why he stayed. Well, circumstances were much different now, and it’d serve him well to push that venom back down.
Lost in thought, Ezra mindlessly hammered away at the helmet in front of him, destroying the ornamental work he was so desperately trying to preserve. Ezra cursed under his breath and plunged the helmet back into the smoldering coals behind him. He didn’t have time to focus on anything but functionality with his workload, so salvaging any sort of decoration (especially on the incandescent steel they brought back from the hoplite compound) brought him a disproportionate amount of joy. But this helmet was a lost cause, aesthetically at least. No one minded, and he doubted Arevik would be the exception, but he’d been putting off the armor he promised the kingsguard. Ezra wanted to pretend their little excursion didn’t happen, like he didn’t cower away from Ignacio as a disobedient child would from their parent. It’d been too long now, and he began to feel guilty for avoiding Arevik for so long. Ezra felt especially brave when he asked Arevik to stop by for a moment. Now? Significantly less so. His tail flicked nervously behind him, knocking over a bucket full of scraps. Discarded strips of steel and iron went flying across the room, causing quite the commotion along the way. Ezra could only sigh.
335 words | post 1 |
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Post by kajeayn on Nov 27, 2020 21:17:14 GMT -6
A R E V I K
post 1 | wc 791
Few people asked to see him, these days.
Wido, certainly. Soleil, occasionally. Lower ranked kirins asking for a moment of his time was often, but never to come meet them, and never alone. They only needed him for his skills, his advice. It did not take long to impart either. His fellows rarely wanted to spend more time with him then necessary- they all spent as little time with each other as necessary. Always grinding their nose against the stone, sharpening themselves bit by bit, readying themselves for the next battle, the war that would decide everything.
He was still readying himself, still readying others, but his fire burned a little lower, these days.
The meeting with Ignacio, the meeting with the modern day Aodhians, had changed something. To say nothing of the several week journey back, travelling at their side, keeping them safe from other kirins and unseen dangers lurking in the woods. How honored he had felt near the end, defending them. Serving his god. Serving… equines, not kirins. No Kings, no Sovereigns.
Watching them walk away had been so much harder then he’d ever thought it could be. Knowing one walked back into the chains of slavery had made something he’d thought as cold and unbreakable as incandescent steel crack, somewhere deep in his chest. It’d torn something he couldn’t put a name to, and he was still licking his wounds now, bleeding out onto the stones every day.
Ezra’s request to meet had him wondering if he, too, could not stop thinking about them. Of those weeks of travel, listening to cheerful voices and sleeping under the stars. Of exchanging stories and advice, of gifts and questions. Of knowledge and memories he still clutched like a pygmy dragon’s hoard, hidden away secretly under his heart, to gaze at when he was alone.
He’d tried to push them out of his mind, might have succeeded if not for the meeting with Ignacio, searing those memories behind his eyes, there every time he blinked.
He could not forget them. It would be forgetting Ignacio, forgetting what he had been charged with.
A father can love all his children.
I still love you.
I love you so much I can barely bear it.
Which is why I need you to thread a new path.
One that leads not to the destruction of all I hold so dear.
Ignacio’s words were branded to his soul, written in glowing embers. There under his heart, like Hestia’s heartbeat had been, once.
He didn’t know if he could forgive them. He still wasn’t certain on how he felt about them, unsure how to put it into words, trying to untangle a thousand years of pain and hate from his heart, thorn by painful thorn.
The Aodhians weighed heavy on his mind as he approached the forge, his face impassive as he walked, gold hooves clicking quietly against the stone. All stone, here. Coming back to this place had been like entering a tomb after the lush wilds of the rest of the land.
They were all starving, scrabbling for what they could survive off of here. Stealing and raiding and just trying to make it to the next day. No more than insects or rats. Pests. Scavengers.
When had they become this?
A loud crash made him freeze, ears pricking up before he launched into a run, rounding through the doorway into the forge, Uriel already in his grasp. He paused, assessing the scene at a glance, quickly determining the offender was Ezra himself.
Slowly, he slipped Uriel back into her holster, stepping carefully into the room.
“...Are you all right?” He asked lowly, inclining his head slightly towards the sprawl of iron and scrap scattered over the floor. He lifted a shaving in his teke, frowning down at it.
He was not close with Ezra, but his time with him had not made him think the other clumsy. Indeed, someone as skilled in the forge as he could not really afford to be careless with his body and movements- so what was the matter? The Aodhians?
He’d noticed Ezra’s avoidance of him, but he had not taken it personally, assuming Ezra needed to puzzle over his own thoughts of the matter on his own. Secretly, he’d envied him a little- a Kingsguard did not have the luxury of alone time. And admittedly, he’d done some of his own avoidance, and maybe some of Wido as well. It was easier to try and hold his confusing thoughts at bay, away from those who shared those memories.
Now though, he wondered a little more about Ezra’s avoidance of him, frown deepening as his eyes flickered up towards the bulky kirin, head tilted slightly in question.
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savorda
Dwarf Star
avatar by posy-punch
Posts: 61
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Post by savorda on Dec 7, 2020 23:32:18 GMT -6
| E Z R A A C O L Y T E F I R E H E L P M E T O F O R G E T |
Ezra jumped at Arevik’s voice. Brutish as he was, everything made him jump these days.
“Ah, yes. Just, uh,” Ezra looked down at the mess he made, “lost in thought.” he muttered.
The hoarseness of his own voice startled him. When had he last spoken to someone, anyone beyond singular sentences? Traveling with the Aodhians, perhaps. Even then he hardly spoke. Once, Ezra talked to himself more than anyone else. He was infamous in their little farming village for talking himself through every task imaginable. Now he sat in his forge, bizarrely silent. He didn’t trust the words he spoke so comfortably in his solitude, especially when so many of them called out to a strange god he feared.
Ezra cleared his throat, pointedly looking down at the helmet in his teke as he dipped it in the bucket of water at his hooves. The steel hissed and spat but eventually calmed enough to be set aside without fear of the metal warping.
“Thank you for coming. I-” he paused scanning the room for the armor he found propped up in the corner behind the golden kirin. Ezra brushed past him with a quiet excuse me. “I have some armor for you.”
The pieces Ezra set aside were some of the best they salvaged from the hoplite compound. The incandescent steel sparkled brilliantly even in the low light of the forge. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t tempted to keep this armor himself, something to entertain him in this soulless city. But really, what use did he have for it? He preferred if it went to someone at least a touch kinder than some others he’s had the misfortune of interacting with.
“It should all fit, but if you could try it on, just to make sure, I would greatly appreciate it.” he hummed, carefully laying the armor on the table in the middle of the room. Familiar pride swelled in his chest. Perhaps it wasn’t his best work, nor truly his work at all, but he was proud of it nonetheless. For the first time in this life, Ezra can hand over work without adding his usual disclaimer of “This is the best I could do, I’m sorry.” He didn’t have much else to take pride in.
Empty dread curled in the pit of Ezra’s stomach. He hated this brief silence while clients inspected his work on the best of days, but countless more questions hung in the air now. He wanted to run, crawl out of his skin, anything but stand in place and wait.
429 words | post 2 |
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Post by kajeayn on Dec 17, 2020 21:50:30 GMT -6
A R E V I K
post 2 | wc 692
Patience was a virtue Arevik had been slow to learn, and slower to embrace. He viewed it as a fire with only so much fuel left to burn- he’d learned to be frugal with resources since coming to Hrag Ba’al. A slow burning fire would keep him warm longer. Impatience would just burn him up.
A younger Arevik would have been annoyed at the concept of examining armor, of lifting it in his teke and running a shrewd, appreciative eye over every detail and contour. Of checking buckles and straps, of holding it up to the light and examining the weight, and simply admiring the way the incandescent steel caught and held the flames from Ezra’s forge.
“It’s beautiful,” He rumbled, carefully lifting an elegantly crafted helm. He wasn’t certain just how much work Ezra had done himself on these pieces, but he could see the modern touches, the places where it had been strengthened and touched up. “You've outdone yourself, Ezra.”
He settled the helm on his head, mindful of his antlers as he tightened straps, tugging on the helmet and finding it fit snugly.
The bracers and neck guard came next, and he was unsurprised to find the neck guard fit a little loose. It was difficult to size them without trying them on- that Ezra came so close was testament to his skill.
He turned slightly, examining the armor on himself and giving a small, satisfied smile. It’d been far too long since resources had been as they once were- when incandescent steel flowed from the forges like lava from Mt Oriel, when elegant weapons were artistry, not the glorified clubs and sticks they scavenged from the other breeds like magpies, plucking anything useful out of burned fields.
“The neck guards are a little loose,” He said, lifting his head so that Ezra could get a proper look. “I’d be grateful if you could tighten them.”
It was a difficult task to do on oneself, especially without a mirror. The display and offering of his throat wasn’t done idly, either. A vulnerability offered, perhaps in exchange for one given. A lowering of the guard, that Ezra might lower his own shields.
He wasn’t certain what troubled the stallion, but something weighed on his mind. Prior to their trip with the Aodhians, he may have left well enough alone. They all had burdens to carry- as long as it didn’t interfere with their cause, then Arevik hadn’t cared what demons the other kirins faced.
But Ezra was more than just a fellow soldier, hesitant and unsure as Arevik was of that fact. A brother in arms, maybe. It had been…. Many, many years since Arevik had last considered what the word friend meant. He’d had no time or focus for that after the Dragon Hoplite training. He’d declared a rival in Wido, but he still struggled to call him a friend- a rival was easier. Manageable. Less emotions involved.
The way the Aodhians threw the term friend around had unsettled him- it had felt like witnessing intimate, bizarre rituals, when they had been so affectionate with each other, despite most of them being strangers. Touch was freely given and taken with no hesitation. He’d nearly drawn Uriel on the first to bump shoulders with him, but eventually he’d almost gotten used- almost looked forward - to the casual touches and contact.
He had not, in fact, so much as brushed against anyone since leaving them behind.
But the thought crossed his mind, often. There’d been a few close calls where he had stepped towards a soldier, or Wido, with the subconscious intent of either not subtly offering himself to receive, or with the more frightening intent to give a casual touch. A brush of shoulders, a touch of muzzles.
A few weeks, and his entire world had been turned upside down. He scarcely recognized his own thoughts.
Perhaps that was what troubled the blacksmith before him. But how to ask that question eluded him, slid like smoke from his grasp, and he could only prod at Ezra’s defenses, approaching him like a battle strategy.
It was all he knew, after all.
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