Give & Take

It seemed the water goddess was being as capricious as her air sister in answering his prayers. For he had indeed wandered in the right direction to encounter someone, even someone who could help...but not someone who really wanted to or wished him any good will, and for very good reasons.

Entire frame froze when a voice filtered through the air around, one leg raised, ears swiveling swiftly forward to pinpoint where the sounds had originated from. Dulled silver gaze followed a little more slowly, finally locking onto a figure atop a dun. How had someone else gotten the drop on him? Gods this was not his day for being on top of his surroundings. And yet..at least he'd found someone finally, maybe someone who could help him, or point him in the direction of aid.

Except...it took his mind a few seconds more to notice the body posturing, to remember the angry timbre resonating in those words, and just what the words had been. Some nerve? Where did he get off acting like... "Oh," Sinarin breathed, as his memory finally supplied why this equine seemed vaguely familiar. He'd been at the Briem camp, one who'd tried to talk down the hostage situation. And here he was again.

"Kaia's tits," the thief muttered, snorting before it turned into a wheezing, hissing laugh due to his injuries. Oh, of all the things that could have happened to him this day, this was just great. But how boring life would be if you couldn't find humor in the oddest places.

"Fancy seeing you here," Sin chuckled, shaking his head lightly. "Ya know, you wouldn't be the first to greet me like that, either. Bet that's a surprise, eh?" he added, cocking a grin toward the other, though he didn't move to take any steps closer. His mouth could keep running, but he was conserving his energy in case he needed to try and make a run for it. Not that he'd realistically get far, but he was going to give it his best shot.

Post 2 | WC//345

A shiver ran down the stallion's spine, from neck to tail bone, prickling about the throbbing wound on his flank. Oh, those eyes did wish him any kindness, and the thief knew why. It wasn't like he had been the picture of moral upstanding when he'd last met his current companion. But he had never struck Sinarin as the soldierly type and he'd been in a medical settlement, so at least he didn't feel he needed to fear anything on that score. Not that he wasn't one hundred percent sure a healer couldn't mess him as well as a soldier could, but at least they weren't generally as fast or strong.

Silver gaze could see Sesil eyeing him hard, looking past his face...studying his wound? The stallion shifted self consciously, wincing in pain as he did so. It felt hotter than Ignacio's balls here!

"Oh, they did. A little lady was right glad to see them and the candles and herbs they could buy, no to mention the food and a bit of drink for myself," the obnoxious thief replied cheerfully, pulling out a smug grin at the reminder of his previous takings. Though he'd had to work twice for that cache, chasing down that damn pegasus and getting himself cut up in the process. Aurora had patched him up though, and she had been so cute thanking him for the bolster to her supplies to help out wanderers and freed slaves. Not that he was about to admit such things to this fella.

"Oh, you know, hiding out from some nasty Vindicators who have it out for me, for some reason I can't fathom," Sinarin replied airily, though he couldn't get his tone to reflect the proper amount of carefree vibes. He cursed under his breath as he shifted to relieve the weight from his leg, swearing he could feel sand grains rubbing in the wound.

He probably really shouldn't be antagonizing the only equine he'd seen for the last however many hours, especially since he didn't fardling know where he was after that headlong run from the thunderbird.

"Look," the thief began after a pause, voice more subdued though silver eyes still showed defiance and pride. "I'm not out to steal this time, I'd swear it. I was asked to trade some pelts for some cactus bits used in healing. I dunno what they are, but I've got a list." He finally explained, drawing a deep breath of air and rather regretting it when it passed down his parched throat.

WC// 423 | Post 3

"Shows what you now, hunny," Sinarin replied with a snort, shaking his head. "Often those two are one and the same. Besides, if I didn't know anything about control, that little camp would be missing a lot more than shards, and so would that young lad," the thief replied, lifting his lip in a return gesture at the disgust he saw on the other's features. Oh, he was aware of what the world thought of thieves, but that didn't mean all of it was actually true. Some of them had honor, and a lick of decency. Sinarin did--most of the time, anyway.

The dual colored equine stared at the mule, trying hard not to move his injured body, and debating whether this other was going to be worth his time. He'd already spent precious moments of it with idle banter. But the next words caught his attention, ears swiveling forward and a look of surprise appearing on pained features.

"Oh, the desert wasn't always so bad. Used to be a fellow could come down to escape any heat on his back for the warmth of the desert and trade work for food. People weren't always so suspicious," Sinarin replied, sounding aggrieved at the state of the world. Truthfully, he had rarely ever stolen from anyone in Serora, he didn't have to when he could trade some time (of which he had plenty) for water, shelter, and food. True, it might be a bit harder than stealing, but it had been pleasant spending a month not constantly trying to look over his shoulder for a Vindicator or the various Raiders and Mercs who might have it out for a thief. The desert had been relatively safe in that way.

"It's none of your business, but I suppose you are pretty nosy with the size of that schnoz, and are going to make it yours," the thief remarked, pleased with his insult. The fella did have a pretty big nose, and it wasn't handsome. "I was asked by a Hedgewitch, a pretty little thing I owe favors to. My Light of the Night asks, and I hurry to. Pretty simple really," Sin added nonchalantly. It was the truth, again, but he doubted this scowling stranger would believe him.

"So, you gonna help me, or just chat me up will the heat gets me?"

WC 391 | Post 4

I've yet to decide, Sinarin repeated mentally to himself, in an immature, mocking, nasally type of inner voice. At the same time he was grinding his teeth, with pain, with irritation, with a desire to fling one of this throwing knives at the long eared ass standing above him.

Silver eyes could see the anger tainting the edges of the other's manners, his body language, lighting his eyes. At the same time he was noting this, a sinking feeling curled at the edges of his mind, like little flecks of ice bouncing about his stomach. The same type of feeling he got got when that extra sense of instinct told him a heist was about to go against the plans.

And he hated being right sometimes.

When the words left Sesil's mouth, astonishment appeared on the thief's face. He was actually going to help? But then the rest of what was said filtered through his ears and brain, confirming the feeling of before. It melted the ice, turned it to embers that flared into small flames as anger curled within his own soul, pushing aside his pain for a moment as he took several steps forward.

"So that's how you play, is it?" The crimson and white horse snapped, but he had nothing else to add. His stupid brain was helpfully adding up the facts, and he was trapped. He couldn't refuse the offer, his chances of dying here were pretty serious indeed, injured as he was and without water. And there was the fact that though Serorans had been helpful in the past, they'd never done anything for free then either. So the pelts were to be the payment, as well as serve as self satisfaction for this...this...

"Alya's ass," Sinarin hissed impotently, head dropping as he heaved in a deep breath, cursing himself as much as this other horse for his current predicament...for his loss of the pelts and inability to acquire what Aurora needed.

"Fine," the thief snapped, loudly enough to be heard across the hot wind.

He'd give over the required pelts and receive the aid, grudgingly. But oh, there was no way he was just going to leave like that, without anything. Not if he could manage it...if he could was the question, but only time would tell. And he wasn't sure he'd have enough before he needed to return to the hedgewitch.

WC 401 | Post 5

That smile.

It made the thief want to fling one of his knives into those teeth, to carve the terrible expression off the face above and beyond him. It couldn't even really be described as a smile, it felt so...wrong on a face and personality of one like Sesil, and broke through his anger, the creepiness thawing it just a little.

"Ugh, just do me a favor and don't smile anymore, alright? It'd downright fucking creepy," Sinarin announced, resigned to his current fate and not deigning to reply to the request that he remove his weapons and pelts and put them aside. Yeah, yeah, like that wasn't expected. He supposed his situation could be worse, the bald man ordering him about could have been a cultist instead.

"Digend, you're really cramping my style," the stallion muttered, heaving a sigh as he turned his head and pulled the small pelts from his saddlebags. Luck didn't always go your way, but damn if it didn't suck desert air when it didn't. Like basically getting the shake down by an old man. Damn that burned him.

"Yeah, yeah. You must be getting a kick out of playing the big man for a change," words were flippant, meant to jab, though no longer entirely laced with anger. Oh, it still burned inside, but back to embers. Now he was more resigned, actually getting a kick out of the irony of the situation. Wouldn't this make a grand story to tell. He could prolly make some shards off it actually, sell it to a bard. Hey now, that wasn't a bad idea...

The thief mused to himself as he slowly pulled his throwing knives and dagger from the sheathes about his chest band, expertly flicking them into the sand to rest with blades half buried, hilts up, in a neat little line just out of his teke's range. Sinarin made a point to cast a glance at Sesil as he tossed the last one, barely looking as it hit it's mark. He could barely walk anymore, but he could definitely still throw his knives.

WC 350 | Post 6

It seemed like there was the barest hints of a smirk lingering about the Savior's mug, visible in the gleams of triumph from getting his way. The stallion wasn't one prone to excessive expressions, that much had always been particularly obvious, but Sinarin would bet one of his knives this was as close to the actual expression of smirking as Sesil got--and damn him for supplying it.

It didn't take but three heartbeats between the time the last blade was buried halfway into the sand and the Savior began to move easily down the small cliff; and it irritated Sinarin that he currently didn't possess the same ease of motion and freedom. But what really made him pause and blink was when the wind suddenly died down, the sand no longer pinging against his sides or threatening to clog his nose. Damn this Savior, of course he'd do that now.

Muscles tensed in reaction as the mule drew near, unhesitating in his actions but neither showing an ounce of aggression. It was nearly aggravating, the cool air of professional detachment that exuded from his companion, but Sinarin was also impressed though he wouldn't want to actually admit that. Up close, it was easy to see that silver eyes were widened from the pain he was in, as the dual colored stallion turned his head to watch Sesil peel back his poor bandaging and assess the wound beneath.

Oh, he hated to hear the words that were spoken next though. It was never, ever a good sign.

"Prolly lower than I'm going to want it to be," the thief admitted on an exhale, no bluster or exaggeration admitted this time. If this irritating stallion was going to be the proper profession...Sinarin wasn't going to make anything harder or lie about it. After all, he was the patient being helped.

"I, uh...don't anything anything suitable except my dagger handle. It's the only thing hard enough and kept clean that in my possession. So unless you have something...don't suppose you'll hand it to me?" There was no conniving or wheedling to the thief's tone, he was being serious for once. However, he wasn't sure if his bad luck today would stretch as far as Sesil actually agreeing to give him back a weapon.

WC 383 | Post 7

Alright, that laughter was definitely worse than the smile from before. That expression had felt creepy, something that was elusive and not...right on this stallion's mug. The laughter though...it was like something grating on his nerves. It felt rusty and unused, grating on his already fraying nerves. Especially since he knew it was directed at him. Really now, had what he'd said been that funny? It hadn't really been meant as a joke, but clearly this medic's perception of humor was highly skewed. Not surprising, really.

It would have been nice to have his dagger back in teke's firm grip, but alas. It had been worth a shot.

With a heavy, put upon sigh the thief reached out with silver teke and took the proffered binding leather. "Yeah, that'll be better than nothing--" The word ended on a hiss, a quick intake of breath through teeth as the bandage was fully ripped away. Parts of it had dried into the wound, and Wave Mother that didn't feel great. Paltry to what he was about to feel though.

Sinarin would bet all his knives that this cantankerous old coot had some anesthetic or something in his kit, if he had all that other junk, and he just wasn't going to use it on his current patient.

Iggy's Balls.

"Nah, just get on with it. Please," the touch of politeness was tossed in, and said with the right notes, that it sounded quite sincere. Sinarin really didn't want this long eared savior to decide he wanted to be rough with his teke while dealing with the thief's wounds. It was going to hurt enough as it was.

With a deep, steadying breath, Sin put the leather between his teeth and clamped down, squeezing his eyes shut.

Talk about the worst day ever.

WC 302 | Post 8

That one little word, but it was the herald of pain. Of course, Sinarin knew that often pain and healing went hoof in hoof. Hell, he'd heard often enough that if he was feeling pain it was actually a good thing. Numbness or complete loss of feeling was much, much worse. To feel pain was to be alive.

Yada. Yada. Yada.

Such metaphors and life's lessons ran in a litany through the thief's mind as he felt the rest of the bandages being pulled away from the infected flesh.
He managed to remain silent this go round, as Sesil began to pull bits of fabric and debris from the inflamed skin--or what was left of it, anyway. The entire area felt like it was burning, aching, with brighter pinpoints of fire where Sesil pulled. It was becoming...normalized, almost, a masochistic portion of the stallion's brain whispered to him as he clamped down upon the leather he had been given.

Teeth bit down harder as he was told to brace himself, eyes closing tight as he felt the lance, breath expelling at once through the pain, though no sound emerged still. It was when the alcohol came into play that the thief jerked his head, dropping the leather as a string of curses escaped his mouth after it, ones that do the rogues on the Isles of the Dead quite proud.

Sinarin didn't hear Sesil's mutter about that being the worse of it, his head was lowered as he gulped in air, shaking from the pain, and at the same time trying not to move or jerk away from the stallion giving him aid -- as if he even could move his injured limb at this point. It hurt too much to respond.

Ears swiveled slowly back as the thief focused on the Savior's words, but he didn't look. "Aye," he muttered, throat sounding hoarse as he reached unsteadily with his teke to snatch back the leather and regrip it with his teeth. He hadn't even bothered to try and shake the extra grains of sand from it, his concentration going to simply lifting the thing and not swaying on his feet even though he'd locked his limbs.

Damn, this day sucked.

Sinarin suffered through the stitching in relative silence, only low moans showing he was still conscious as he stood there, head hanging and teeth gripping the leather, silver eyes closed tight against the pain as he tried to breath through it.

When the ministrations were over, eyes blinked open slowly, looking rather glazed and glassy as they focused slowly on Sesil. "Aye. Aurora'll take care o' it," Sin muttered. He'd be heading straight back to her in any case, as swiftly as he could manage...which wouldn't be all that quickly at all. He'd have to find some new bandages somewhere, and some pain killers too. Ah well, he'd figure that out after he found somewhere to crash and sleep. Then he might be able to steal what he needed, but not before. He'd just get himself into even more trouble and pain.

"I really hope I don't ever see your ugly mug again," the thief remarked, expelling a full breath as he slowly tried to shift his limbs and see what range of motions he could perform. "Thanks for patching me up though," Sin added reluctantly, coming to the realization that he was going to limping quite slowly home. And it'd better be along populated routes guarded by Wardens or he was thunderbird chow. Or any other kind of desert nasty.

WC 593 | Post 9