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Author Topic: Village of Harniraia: Home of White Fox  (Read 10679 times)

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Offline Demonreach

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Re: Village of Harniraia: Home of White Fox
« Reply #36 on: October 25, 2014, 06:40:48 pm »
He felt the change in her as she stared at him in silence, as she spoke, though he was taken aback at her accusation of seduction; his brows furrowed, his mouth opening to defend himself and his honor, but the lower clicked shut as he realized she had been jerking his chain. "It's not that you aren't beautiful, Chiara. My life is boring and I just as, so I would not want to strap you down. You have a long way to go before you find your place.

"But I am trying to ask you, yes. It is not often I am allowed to join with another, or even go."

Having noted the way her body seemed to reach for the mist that surrounded them, he offered her his arm; the naked flesh offering no resistance to his ability, like cloth would.

---------------------------------------------------


The village, unlike during the daytime, was something to behold this night. A faint fog hung over Harniraia, the torches and streetlamps flickering with life as people passed by; as children ran by, faces painted, clad in costumes of various animals and people that held major influence in this village. A common theme of the face paint on the children, and on some mothers, were black in twisting and swirling patterns that almost resembled his own.

Grown men, some huge with muscle and height; others lean and skinny wore loose fitting clothing much like the clothes Rujin kept at the dojo; some even carried wooden swords of various styles: katana's, swordswords, daggers, knives, etc. There were a few staves here and there. On their feet, they wore nothing; though a pair of shoes hung around their necks with metal toes and heels.

Huge, elaborate stages had been erected with dancers and singers and musicians adorning them; fire-eaters and magicians littered the crowd, some of those stages or in the streets. But all wore masks or had their faces painted, obscuring any real defining features.

Food carts were posted at every block, and even shops had taken residence along the buildings that were otherwise closed.

Rujin and Chiara would quickly become apart of the hub-bub of the celebration, a small smile found its place on the face of the otherwise neutral expression of White Fox.

The night was rather cool, the moon half-full as it stared upon the party-goers.
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Anneliese

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Re: Village of Harniraia: Home of White Fox
« Reply #35 on: September 28, 2014, 08:28:48 pm »
Her senses had dulled: eyesight, hearing, smelling, tasting, feeling. Reaction time slowed with the deterioration of her senses. Her mind was able to think of solutions, to acknowledge the problem and hypothesize any necessary changes that needed to be done, but the connection of her brain to her limbs was impaired - or maybe it was the ice that seemed to form between her bones every time she remained unmoving for periods of time. Either way, Chiara didn’t hear Rujin’s footsteps, couldn’t sense the subtle change in atmosphere as he neared her. Instead his presence was announced when he spoke, giving her a slight startle in the form of a slight jerk of her chest and tensing of her body.

From her spot in the tree she was forced to look down at him, and with a squint of her eyes she was able to detect a slight reddening of the air; like a cloud that enveloped the whole courtyard. Breath caught in her throat, though that was the only sign of her mounting excitement, hoping he would be using his gift on her again.

With half of her attention on him and the other on the lights and soft chirping, Chiara let Rujin speak, undisturbed. Had she been truly interested with his little tidbit of information, she would’ve found it more fascinating - as fascinating as it rightfully was. Instead his voice passed through one ear and out the other; the only thing her mind took note of were the sounds. The beautiful tones that trickled freely from his lips, accented by the soft chirping. It was quite comforting to her ears - what little of it she caught. His words did, however, catch her attention at the mention of a special celebration, the corners of her lips raising in a faint smirk, pales eyes openly running over the expanse of revealed skin before reaching his eyes. “If I didn’t know any better, I would say you’re trying to seduce me.” Once more her eyes lingered on his chest, catching the slight silvery tint of the scars on his already pale skin. Exquisite. He was truly a work of art; beautiful and deadly all at the same time.

It took quite some effort, but Chiara finally managed to plant her feet back on the ground, cotton clad legs bringing her closer to the beast of a man. She told herself it was so she could admire what he did, but deep down she knew it was because she was hoping she could feel something like she had the past night.

“If this is your way of asking me to accompany you to the celebration, I accept.” Another smirk, another tease. Pale eyes fell on him once more, though this time they strayed no lower  than his eyes, catching them with an amused twinkle. “But if you try anything, my sweet, I will not hesitate to eat you.” Her eyes dashed away, the amusement twinkling even brighter and she found herself letting out a soft hum of glee. Despite how dour and glum she became after divulging her little tale to him, she seemed to have gotten over it quickly, bringing the darkest details of her past up to the surface without so much as batting an eye. Besides, she decided that if she was going to die one day, what better way to go than by the hand of some dysfunctional yet devilishly handsome man with daddy issues and a split personality? “I bet you’ll taste as delicious as you look.” She purred, tongue running over her bottom lip as if she were looking forward to the prospect of cleaning her teeth with his bones. Testing the limits she was, unafraid if he were to get mad and unleash his ability on her. To be ended by this man would be a gift in and of itself.
« Last Edit: September 29, 2014, 09:18:46 pm by Chiara. »

Offline Demonreach

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Re: Village of Harniraia: Home of White Fox
« Reply #34 on: September 17, 2014, 04:08:42 pm »
White Fox generally didn't sleep all that heavy, given his life experiences, and so found himself staring at the ceiling as Chiara walked out; the red hues blank as his thoughts turned inward, pondering if he should follow, to entertain his guest anymore than he already had. Perhaps she had left because of his lack of manners.

Not that he had many visitors from outside the village... Most were already used to his rather strange ways of communicating and mannerisms.

He allowed himself a small smile, though it was faint; just a faint twitch of his lips as he got up, pulling on some grey pants; leaving the rest of him naked. No point in being entirely inappropriate.

The Shadow-Marked warrior made his way outside, his eyes finding the petite woman quickly as he brought his gift to awakening, letting his presence wash over the courtyard as to not alarm her overly much.

"Do not be alarmed, please. I wish to show you something."

The man knelt by a few bushes, fingers flowing through the blades of grass as red mist emitted from his body, though it seemed to twist around Chiara as the mist pervaded the courtyard. Soon, little lights could be seen from within the faint mist; a soft, barely audible sound much like crickets could be heard.

"I have been here a long time and -from extensive exposure- the insects here have become mutated, if you will. Something I have created, I suppose."

Soon moth's and butterflies fluttered along, some landing on the two beings. "They themselves emit this mist as well, though to a much lesser degree than what I can. The species of bird that frequents this little place have yet to adapt, though they have started to show signs of immunity." He shrugged. "Some of the animals in the trees that surround us have also become mutated. While I try to not wake up these creatures, as they are so very rare and fragile, they do come out once every so often to breed, and tonight is one of those nights; the mist helps make them visible. The village will be celebrating this special event tonight, as you'll soon hear. They enjoy these nights, as it's one of the few nights they get to celebrate something like history, like tradition. Not much happens in these parts, as you will find out, but we tend to keep track of the things that do."
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Anneliese

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Re: Village of Harniraia: Home of White Fox
« Reply #33 on: July 16, 2014, 09:29:04 pm »
With a distracted mind, time passed rather quickly. Hours floated by like the clouds Rujin described; lazily, coming and going as it chose, and completely unattainable. The time that passed could never be taken back, and, like the clouds, it disappeared after awhile, forgotten. Chiara spent the night thinking about the clouds, the hunters, the clarity, the confusion; perfection.

With a tired sigh the woman drew herself up to her feet. Snap. Crackle. Pop. (Rice Crispies!) Sometime during the night she felt the ice settle in. Her body grew colder after that, more stiff and awkward, and she knew that the effects of Rujin’s mist had finally worn off. She wished that he would use it on her again, but she also feared the addiction of feeling the way he made her feel. She had felt so real, alive, like she could start all over again, make better choices, and be a better person—be one step closer to the perfection Rujin had described.

Chiara’s movements were slow at first; like a baby deer, clumsy and awkward until it got the hang of it. Once she reached that stage she began to move with a pointless determination, leaving her room with the look of having somewhere to be when she really didn’t.  She walked slowly through his dojo, keeping her eyes trained on the floor to prevent herself from getting curious and wanting to snoop around. Her legs carried her to the main room, but she didn’t look around and see if he was there, instead she made her way outdoors, feeling a subtle warmth wash over her from the morning sun.

Once she was outside she knew exactly where she wanted to go. The woman’s pale eyes locked on the willow tree, and her face took on a look of detached blankness, as if she were in a trance, while her legs thoughtlessly carried her closer and closer to her destination. Chiara ducked beneath the low hanging leaves, brushing them aside gently with a hand. In the midst of that motion her hand turned and grasped a single leaf; nimble fingers ran over the smooth texture of the leaf and traced the veins that ran through it. Chiara didn’t notice the twitch of her lips—the beginning of a smile.

After an unknown amount of time, Chiara let go of the leaf and moved quickly to the trunk. Her hand immediately shot out to feel the rough texture while the other rose to touch the soft skin of her cheek. Both were extremely different in comparison. While her cheek was soft and smooth, the trunk was rough and bumpy. It reminded her of scars, and soon she imagined that the tree was covered in scars. Both hands then rose to run over the rough bark, tracing the grooves slowly as if she were trying to memorize them. Another long while passed before she removed her hands from the bark , and Chiara unconsciously rubbed her arm. The feeling of bumps and grooves surprised her; she felt like the tree—felt like she had scars—but when she looked down at her arm it was as smooth and soft as before.

Chiara moved to the lowest branch and began to pull herself up. She climbed up close to the top, where she found a decent sized branch to sit on. With her back against the thick trunk, Chiara’s legs stretched out before her, crossing at the ankles and resting near the end of the branch. From her spot she got a nice view of the sky, and she quickly found herself watching the clouds float by.

Offline Demonreach

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Re: Village of Harniraia: Home of White Fox
« Reply #32 on: July 16, 2014, 03:35:40 pm »
The question surprised him, which was merely conveyed by a small raising of an eyebrow. What was perfection? He offered a small smile, "Who am I to speak of perfection? When all things are flawed? To be perfect is to be without flaws, yes? There is nothing perfect in this world, or the next, I imagine." He sighed softly. "But the definition of perfect... To have perfection... Physical or otherwise...

"It would be like a cloud, I imagine. Formless, small, or large; sometimes light and fluffy, other times dark and cruel. Unable to be held by human hands. To be able to just drift slowly, easily, with the wind. To be able to be feared and loved, sometimes at once and other times separately. To come and go as you please, perhaps. It'd probably take different shapes as well. And, like a cloud, unattainable.

"Or perhaps the moment when you wake up and are still trying to remember who and what you are; or the moment when you are drifting off, the mind and soul at peace with each other. Although, perhaps one could even say perfect is the way the hunter feels before it pounces, that moment of clarity, of understanding and no longer feeling indecisive about what to do but kill. To live in that moment of clarity, to be able to understand what you are here for and why... That's perfection, I believe. Though I have envied clouds for the longest time, to come and go as they please; to not worry about anything; to be able to drift freely and then just... disappear. I would like that."

He shook his head and watched her as she spoke at length, correcting his minor error of misunderstanding. He bowed his head in acquiesce, "I apologize, Chiara, for not understanding but you have enlightened me. A feeling I know all to well." When he looked up at her again, his face was neutral, as usual, though there was something slightly off about the expression; almost as if chaos was threatening to break through the carefully placed mask of neutrality that gave nothing away, but the smile was the only crack. "Well, we shall see in a few weeks then, yes?"

Leaving the question in the air, he spoke as he slid the door closed, "Do not think of yourself as such. It is my pleasure to help. Have a good night." As the door clicked shut, he strode back to the main room, where it had a comfortable warmth to it and slid open the door of his own room, leaving it open slightly as he strode in.

He lowered himself onto the mat, laying on his back as he stared up at the ceiling, letting his mind wander in hopes of catching a few hours.
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Anneliese

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Re: Village of Harniraia: Home of White Fox
« Reply #31 on: July 15, 2014, 11:36:19 am »
The ice cold woman followed obediently behind White Fox, eyes unseeing and glazed over as if she were in a trance. Despite appearing as though she wasn’t listening, Chiara’s mind hung on every crescendo and decrescendo of Rujin’s voice; it fluttered through her ears like a song, assertive and masculine, reassuring and comforting, yet at the same time detached and cold as if he didn’t mean what he said. Her deathly pale pink lips curved up into an emotionless smile. “I’m curious, Rujin. What is your definition of perfect? I mean, if neither you nor I are considered perfect, I’m afraid I don’t know what perfect could possibly be.” Her head tilted to the side in mock-curiosity, eyes narrowing just slightly as she awaited his answer. It was clearly evident that her words were jest, but there was something in her tone, unnoticeable to untrained ears, that conveyed the seriousness with which she asked her question.

Thin legs carried her into the doorway of the room, however her front remained facing him. “I think you misunderstand. I’m not disgusted with myself because of what I did; I’m disgusted with myself because of how much I liked it. It’s very much like a drug. You pick it up the first few times just to try it, believing that you’ll only do it those few times and put it back down before it sucks you in like a black hole; but it surprises you. It makes you feel so good, and once you come down from the high you realize what a huge mistake you’ve made but you still look forward to feeling that good again, so you do it a few more times. Before you know it, you’re addicted.” Chiara looked down at her hands. Despite not being able to see them very well in the poor lighting, she knew they were twitching with desire. Her head snapped up, pale eyes straining to see the outlines of his angular face. “It happened to me. That first time I woke up just in time to ride the last wave before I came down from it. That little taste was enough to make me curious. The experiments began then, but I did it solely out of curiosity. I figured that if I called it an experiment, I would feel less guilty about doing it. I purged all at once, but I eventually came to my senses. It was wrong, I shouldn’t be doing that, so I stopped. Or at least I thought I did…” The icy voice trailed off; despite the tremendous amount of weight her words carried, her tone somehow managed to remain light and airy as if she were reminiscing about fond memories.

“That was how people started to notice me. The rational part of me wanted to blend in and live unnoticed amongst the people; but there’s another side of me, the one that killed. I’d show up to a new place in a rational frame of mind, but a few weeks later people would come up missing. Bodies would be found and all clues pointed to the one with hands stained red.” Chiara hesitantly took the clothes from his hands with a detached smile, almost as if she were afraid her hands would stain the fabric with the color of her sins, and took a step into the room he proffered to her.

“I’m not telling you this to spite you—this isn’t some twisted game that I play. I’m just warning you out of respect. With withdrawal comes the most persuasive desire imaginable. I don’t want to and I know I shouldn't do it, but that other side still yearns for it.” With that she turned her back to him and moved deeper into the room. Capable hands slackened their grip on the towel and it dropped to the floor in an awkward ‘swish’. “If I need anything I’ll go to you, though I’ll try not to be a nuisance.” Chiara put her worn clothes in one of the corners of the room and slipped on the clean clothing the fox had given her. Despite having picked the smaller pieces to wear, the clothing still swallowed her petite being whole; the shirt itself reached down to her knees and the pants were too large to even stay on her narrow hips. She didn’t even bother putting the pants on before she crawled down onto the sleeping mat. Sleep would never come, she knew that much, but her body felt extremely fatigued. The rest she would gain from relaxing would replenish enough energy.

Offline Demonreach

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Re: Village of Harniraia: Home of White Fox
« Reply #30 on: July 10, 2014, 01:35:24 pm »
White Fox watched her as she wove her tale, one that tugged at the heart strings and one that he could relate to, though not in any way she would really understand. But, as with most stories with such tragedy in them, it wasn't his place to speak or to show how he felt about it, though he was heartened by her trust in his person to confide that into him. When she would look his way, he offered her a small smile that, hopefully, conveyed that feeling.

As she rose from the water rather abruptly, he rose with her, though at a normal pace, not wanting to offend or to come across as rude or some pick up some other title that he'd rather not have tied to his name. As he rose from the stone, he called the red mist back. Granted, it would be awhile yet before her senses came back to some normalcy.

"It wasn't your fault, you know. I mean, it was, but that's because you didn't know any better; much like a child doesn't know right from wrong when they first begin exploring." He spoke as he walked up beside her, pushing the white hair back with his fingers as he opened the door to the narrow, and long, hallway. White Fox also made sure he would talk over whatever objection she might have about his 'lecture'. "That being said, I'm not saying your behavior was excusable because of that, but it is more... understandable, given that you had just 'woken up', yes? Sometimes we figure out life a harder way than necessary, but that doesn't mean we are any less wrong about it. Sure, you may have killed more than a few people and eaten quite a few more, but you learned that it was wrong, or that doing so would get you know where in this life. You've chosen to rise above that, and for that, I admire you.

"Besides, mortality is so... overrated. Who knows what really is right or wrong? That's more of a personal choice than one that can be made for you, though most cultures or societies have their own laws that help decide for you. And even then, people sometimes ignore those. We all make mistakes, some worse and less forgiving than others, but the main thing is what we take away from that experience. No one is perfect, least of all you and I."

As he was talking, he had guided her through the hallway into a another on the left and brought her to a door about halfway down on the right. "This is your room for the duration of your stay. The main room is just around the corner, which is where I will be most of the time. The hot spring is back down that way, which I am sure you can remember." His gaze, though seemingly innocent enough as he looked upon her, was rather predatory and intense; the blood-red irises not helping with the effect. "Oh, and here are these. I took the liberty of picking them up before we left." He handed her old and new clothing, his face the picture of neutrality as he spoke; his voice even and calm, as always. "Is there anything else?" An eyebrow that was already slightly arced by nature rose in time with the question.
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Offline Chiara

Re: Village of Harniraia: Home of White Fox
« Reply #29 on: December 21, 2013, 01:48:51 pm »
“We both fought in a war, though from what I remember mine wasn’t full of epic battles between two families that hate each other. No, I fought my battles myself, and usually, it was myself I was fighting.

“I guess when I woke up I was completely… insane – I don’t remember much from when I first woke up. I knew I was confused, but most of all I was angry. I had a hard time understanding why this happened to me; what had I done to deserve this?” She paused and motioned to her body, an ember glowing in her eyes, threatening to start a fire. “I remembered thinking that if I couldn’t live and be happy, then neither could anyone else. I guess that’s when I went crazy. This is where things become a bit hazy for me; I don’t remember doing, but I knew I did it because all evidence pointed to me. I went to the nearest town and just… killed. Anyone and everyone. Man and woman. Young and old. I remember waking up in the middle of an ocean of blood and bodies, knowing what I had done, but not remembering how.

“After my initial… killing spree, I became more experimental with my state. I rationalized that if I took away their heartbeat, mine would start beating again. I killed then not because I was angry, like the first time, but because I was curious. I thought I had to take away what made them alive, so I started to drink their blood. When nothing happened, I began to devour them, starting with their hearts.” She paused as a shiver racked her body and as her throat clenched. Her eyes, which were glazed over and looking intently at the water, flashed to White Fox’s face for the briefest of moments, expecting to see clear disgust on his face; but she couldn’t bring herself to analyze his features longer than a quick glance. “After a while guilt began to eat away at me. As much as I believed that I didn’t deserve to be this way, I knew that the innocents I killed didn’t deserve to die that way either. It was selfish of me to think that I was more important than them. I know that now, I wouldn’t be this way if I was.” A pained expression was water to the smoldering embers of anger. Any and all fight left her, and she slumped back against the sharp rocks behind her, finding that all energy was sapped from her body.

“I just moved around from place to place after that. I thought I would be able to wander through towns and cities unnoticed; I wanted to blend in like the rest of the people, but somehow someone always managed to see that I was different. They’d point me out and get the other people to side with them. I was a monster in their eyes, and everywhere I went they banded together and ran me out. At first I believed them – that I wasn’t meant to be with other people. After years of traveling, I realized that no one should have to be alone. No matter how much you think you do – how much you think you’re destined for loneliness, you secretly crave the companionship of another being.” She gave him a look out of the corner of her eyes and swore she felt water trail down her cheek; a tear, but Chiara wasn’t sure if it was real or not.

With a clenched jaw Chiara heaved herself out of the water. The milky skin that was previously hidden was now exposed for him to see, and she didn’t care. She had just bared her soul to him, so why not her body? She slowly made her way to her towel, wrapping it loosely around her body and not giving him a glance.  “You asked for something only Chiara knows. Well, Chiara knows everything; everything about her is a secret. No one has ever asked about her until you.” She straightened up and brushed some hair out of her face; it looked thick and unruly, but it was already starting to dry, gently curling around her face, making her look petite and elven.  “I’m not looking for sympathy, nor am I looking for you to criticize me. I told you what you asked; let’s just leave it at that.” Chiara gave him a look with narrowed eyes and then turned around. “I’m ready to go back inside now, if you don’t mind.” She whispered, shoulders hunching slightly. She didn’t to just barge into his home – that would be impolite. Besides, she didn’t remember which room he gave her for the night.

Offline Demonreach

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Re: Village of Harniraia: Home of White Fox
« Reply #28 on: December 21, 2013, 04:04:11 am »
His head cocked to the side at her question about him feeling anything. "I haven't been any other way, so why wouldn't I be okay with this? That's like asking a blind man if he would rather be able to see. Sure, he'd like to, but he is content with finding his own sense of beauty in the dark reality of his. If he isn't, then he has yet to come to terms with his own inability and deserves to be blind." He paused for a second, then continued, "Besides, why would I want to feel the pain of those I killed? To dwell on the consequences of my actions and therefore be unable to continue on? Let's say I do continue on, I wouldn't be able to find any joy in this life. I have the potential to feel it, but what else is there once the guilt of hundreds of deaths weighs upon your soul? I'd only feel the negative emotions, as to where now I only feel nothing but the faintest tugs.

"Now, I could ask you if you'd rather be alive, and you'd say yes. Because you know what's it like to be alive as well as dead and being alive is preferable to being dead, no? Perhaps the blind man would thank you, but perhaps he would curse you as well. As it is now, I do not care for my past or my future, I'm not worried about consequences. I do not fear them, therefore I am able to act as I see fit and not moved to inaction by fear."

His eyes caught the way her facial features seemed to tense up, the way the corners of her eyes seemed to wrinkle at corners and her lips moved into a thin line, though just by the barest of fractions of an inch. He wondered why she was upset, but refrained from asking. It wasn't his business and if it was important enough, she'd say something. Perhaps she loathed him for his own inability. They were the exact opposite of each other, more or less.

He allowed a soft sigh to pass his lips, slowly changing the chemistry of the red mist to slowly take away the sense of touch, which would allow the muscles to relax much more. For a brief moment, and not for the first time, he wondered if his own Mark dulled his emotions as well. An impossibility, but something he had always clung onto.

"Perhaps in the spring or fall," he murmured as she finished explaining. "But summer nights are just as hot as the days, if not hotter. Here, at least. Even our winters aren't quite as cold as most." He shrugged, not wanting to nitpick at her explanation, as it was plausible. His body always ran pretty hot most of the time anyway, which was a wonder why he wore so much clothing during the day, when it was especially hot, but he had his own reasons, or reason.

He stood up, the water coming up to his naval, and he strode towards the wooden floor. "You can stay, if you'd like. I'm not leaving, but I cannot stand the water anymore." His pale flesh was a bring pink from the heat of the water; the black Mark glittering faintly with red as he used his ability to help her relax. He used his one towel to wrap around his waist, keeping his back to her; though he didn't have a problem with being **** in front of her, or anyone else --despite his earlier objections back at the village-- but she had displayed a sort of prudishness about being naked, so he respected her wishes for the most part. Just as his chest and arms and legs were free of any scars or blemish, his back was just as perfect and the lean muscles of his back shifted with his movements as he wrapped the towel around him. It barely his knees, which was just fine with him as he walked away from the wet floor to sit atop the large stone he had earlier been leaning against, sitting cross-legged.

He rested his elbow on one of his knees and let his chin rest in the palm of his hand as his long, slender fingers made a tattoo against his Marked cheek. "I'm not good at questions, so I'll let you tell me your story, or as much of it as you want. Tell me something only Chiara knows. I want to know what dark secrets you harbor, my cold-bodied guest."
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Offline Chiara

Re: Village of Harniraia: Home of White Fox
« Reply #27 on: December 15, 2013, 04:59:40 pm »
A silence gave birth between them, making Chiara wonder if this was as far as White Fox would allow her to venture, but when his voice shattered the quiet like a mirror the corner of her lips twitched up into the smallest of smiles, the action unnoticeable in the dim lighting. His answer wasn’t one she was expecting, but he explained his view perfectly. After a nod of her head and the opening of her eyes, Chiara began to speak with a voice that was not her own; a voice that was altered by the warmth to make her appear as a living being. “So you’re okay with being this way?” A perfectly shaped brow arched at her question, and she leaned forward towards him. “Do you not want to feel anything? Love, hate, jealousy, pride, sympathy?”

Her jaw clenched once her words stopped. She was jealous of him. His body was warm and alive, yet he acted as though he were dead, as if he doesn’t appreciate the heart that beats within his chest. He had the body, yet was as unfeeling as a block of ice, all the while Chiara was a block of ice with the emotions of any other normal human. It was unfair. She wouldn’t allow such thoughts to pass through her lips, though. As much as she didn’t like being the way she was, she couldn’t dislike White Fox for having what she wanted. It wasn’t his fault that he was the way he was, and he had treated her well. Nevertheless, her hands were clenched under the water.

Her face took on the expression of false humor; a smile appeared on her face though it didn’t reach her eyes. “It was hard to discern whether or not I liked you. You’re not the most… welcoming person, but I deeply appreciate what you’ve done for me, which has in turn caused me to grow fond of you.” The smile on his face was enough to make the tingling sensation she was feeling go deeper within her, and for a split second she saw the happy and alive Rujin she imagined sitting before her in the water, but the image was gone just as soon as it appeared, leaving a sinking feeling behind in her chest.

His question took her by surprise; brows rose in unison and her pink mouth formed a petite ‘o’, however that expression lasted only a few seconds before it was replaced with a contemplative look. “You’ve heard the cracking, yes? I’m sure you can imagine just how cold I am.” A small sigh left her lips and a delicate finger traced the crease of her lips. “Temperatures drop at night. While the day is just warm enough for me to break the ice, the night is too cold for me to do so. I would completely freeze; unable to do anything. Being that helpless isn’t something I am too fond of.” Her eyes narrowed at the thought, but she found it too difficult to hold onto the petty anger when she felt so relaxed in the steaming waters. She wished she could sit in the waters every night, but she knew her stay with Rujin would eventually come to an end.

Chiara’s dazed gaze focused back upon the sharp planes of Rujin’s face, eyes alight with challenge as her head ticked to the side mere degrees. “Any more questions?”

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Re: Village of Harniraia: Home of White Fox
« Reply #26 on: December 12, 2013, 04:07:52 am »
An eye opened to watch her as she had been silent for a minute or so, and worried if she had fallen asleep. It would be expected, but he didn't think she would, not unless she was truly fatigued. Probably a feeling she hadn't felt in a long time; a feeling he hoped this small break in her long trek would reawaken, if briefly. To let her know she wasn't as dead as she thought.

As her sarcastic remark, he arched the eyebrow of the opened eye at her, but remained silent. He watched the thoughts flicker along her blue eyes, dancing subtly. As much as he wished her question caught him off guard, it did not, for it was something he pondered often. He allowed a small silence to reign over them, to see how if she felt doubt in her question and wondered if she had stepped too far, but White Fox merely shook his head. "A question I have pondered many days, and still no true answer. Maybe there isn't one, or this is simply how I must be. No more, no less." He paused a few seconds as he looked away. "Honestly, though, I would not have it any other way. I'd like to think if my life had been different I'd still think the same way. I am what circumstances made me. I didn't break beneath the pressure but merely... accepted it and changed accordingly. Why should I complain when I have the knowledge that others suffer far more than I have or will?"

White Fox didn't dwell on the past very much, simply moved on and accepted it as it was; unchangeable. And if he could change any of it? Why would he? He wouldn't have been able to do the things he has done, seen the things he has seen, or meet the people he has met. His life was far from boring and not always filled with death and misery. Indeed he had felt joy, for how else could he feel sorrow? He felt anger, much like he has felt peace. He has seen beauty that made him weep with such joy and had seen horrors that made him weep with fear. But even as his eyes took her features, for the umpteenth time, he could see the beauty that remained frozen, locked in time. White Fox wasn't completely turned off to admire such features. He sighed softly, and turned his attention back to her as he heard her speak.

In her next few words, he would chuckle humorlessly, "Just now deciding that? After walking with an unknown man into his abode, you are coming to the conclusion that he is likeable? I am... amused. But I am glad, however, that you enjoy my company as I find myself enjoying yours as well." He offered her a small smile, which turned rather impish; the shadows of mischief dancing in the red hues as they opened fully to take her in.

"For my first question, why do you fear the open night?"
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Offline Chiara

Re: Village of Harniraia: Home of White Fox
« Reply #25 on: November 29, 2013, 07:06:07 pm »
Chiara was astounded by how desolate White Fox’s life was. Everything he divulged hinted at a solitary life topped off with hate and a sprinkle of death. No wonder he was the way he was. But such a life made Chiara imagine just what he would be like if he was born differently; if he wasn’t a shadow marked at all, if he hadn’t killed his mother, or angered his father.

She imagined his parents first. They were beautiful. Rujin would be the spitting image of his father. The disheveled white hair and his lithe and solid body would all be inherited from the man who made him, but he would act most like his mother. He would be caring, warm, selfless, and his eyes – oh his eyes. That was Chiara’s favorite part of him. They would be a silvery blue and sparkle all the time with warmth. She imagined him not as White Fox – he wouldn’t be known by that name. No, he would be Rujin. A Rujin who had no curse, a Rujin who wasn’t tied to a fate of solitude.

Imagining such things caused a stirring deep within Chiara’s chest, making her eyes widen with curiosity. Her fingertips danced delicately on her skin under the water, over the direct spot where the stirring originated – and spot where, if she had one, her heart would be. Now it was her turn to be put in a different universe, and it began right as she closed her eyes.

The first thing she saw was herself, or was it? It was hard to tell when the woman was so full of life and warmth, the complete opposite than the way she was now. But Chiara had to admit that she kind of liked herself that way. The woman she saw – herself – moved fluidly, and she imagined her dancing with elegant turns and leaps. She had long dark hair, glossy and wavy. Her skin was pale, but it held some color that made her appear warm. The eyes on her face were a bright blue, unnaturally so, but they suited her well. Her skin would be soft to the touch, and her body would be toned to near perfection. In this world, Chiara was a woman; warm, soft, desirable, everything she wanted to be. But it wasn’t real, it was all fabricated in her head, though well enough she could believe it was how she was before.

When she opened her eyes Chiara felt a pang of sorrow stab her chest. It wasn’t real. She swallowed hard and blinked her eyes into focus, though she stared upon the empty water between their soaking bodies. “So your father is the cause for your warm presence and friendly personality.” The sarcasm was evident in the tone of her voice, even her facial expression gave way to her jest. But she arrived to that assumption based on what he said: “…father could affect people’s emotions; their frame of mind.” Going on to say he angered his father by taking away his senses, it was easy to arrive to that conclusion, but there was also the off chance that it was all some freak accident, though that was highly unlikely. Clearing her throat, Chiara looked up at White Fox, a small smile on her face. “What do you think you would be like if your childhood happened differently?” She questioned. She already had her ideas, but she wanted to hear what he would think about it.

The stirring in her chest slowly spread over her whole body – it hadn’t gone away, but she was occupied enough to not think about it. However she hadn’t noticed that the steam was now tinted an eerie red that reminded her of the mist she saw White Fox make when they first met. Her suspicions were confirmed when he told her to inform him of when she stopped tingling, which was a better word for what she was feeling. As the sensation grew, the deeper the warmth spread throughout her body. At first it scared Chiara. She wasn’t supposed to feel things as strong as that, but after a while she decided she liked it. It made her feel normal.

“I’ve decided I like you, Rujin.” Her voice purred lazily, eyes closing as she leaned back to relax just as he. While his detached and dead personality would intimidate others and scare them away, it only drew Chiara in closer. But she didn’t know how close she could get until he pushed her away.

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Re: Village of Harniraia: Home of White Fox
« Reply #24 on: November 27, 2013, 03:22:09 am »
He felt the soft ripples as she stepped into the water, felt her pause to let her body get accustomed to the heat and then felt her moving again. Even as he opened as his eyes, he saw her sit down and watched as the water rocked against the soft pink lips. While he knew this wouldn't be a permanent cure for the cold that plagued her body, it was good to see some life return to her. A good soak in a hot spring did wonders for the body and soul.

At her question, his head turned towards her more; the alertness of his expression making him seem much like his namesake, had he the ears, "My father..." he murmured, glancing away to lean his head against the rock. "I couldn't say, really. What about him? He's... different, I suppose. He came from a strong bloodline, but he wasn't born with any Mark. Neither was my mother, but father could affect people's emotions; their frame of mind. Which is how he got close to mother to begin with. I took away his sight and sense of smell, accidentally of course. I was but a child, but it was not an excuse to him or his family. I am alone, bereft of any ties but this Mark and my sense of duty and obligation to my Clan. He loved me, sure enough, would've given me anything that was within his power to give. I suppose I broached a sensitive topic and curiosity got the better of me. He blamed me for mother's death, which was true, and blamed her for my stubborn streak."

He let out a soft sigh, letting the words die on his lips lest he speak more than he dared. It wasn't as if he had a problem talking about his family or past, it did nothing to stir his emotions nor did it offer any unpleasant nightmares; his sleeps were often dreamless. It was simply a matter of censorship, of how much one wanted to hear. Did she care that his father took away most of his emotional feelings? Or that when father had beaten him, White Fox had struck out with his Mark and took away the sight and smell of the man who sired him? It was curse, his Mark; a curse he had an iron fist on, now. In truth, his father had probably helped him more than anything, by making him all but numb to emotion, as his Mark used his emotions as a cause for action; the more intense an emotion, the stronger the reaction, which was a crude way of looking at the red mist.

It simply took away each of the five senses, slowly, gradually; not in any particular order, but it wasn't always permanent. His Mark had made him an excellent assassin, had given him a purpose in the Clan beyond being the black sheep. He was accepted, if held at arms length. Touching the mist wouldn't harm the person unless there was an open wound, but it required to be inhaled; the more one inhaled, the more the red mist got into the system, the faster it worked and it was a slow process to get rid of it. But he could also heighten the senses to an otherworldly level. He had also gotten his mothers knack for being unnoticeable, even when being looked at dead on. He didn't rely on it much, however, as when your opponent couldn't hear, see, smell, or even move, what point was there?

Through half-lidded eyes, he watched her dive under and reemerge minutes later. Slowly, the steam turned red and, as one inhaled, they'd notice their skin felt tingly, like their arms or legs do if they lay on them awkwardly. Slowly the water would get warmer to the touch, not from more heat, but from the heightened sense of touch. It wasn't painful, though for her, he'd have to crank it up a bit; with this, it helped the muscles of the villagers relax and worked deep into their bones, especially when they've been sparring for several hours. A lot of the elders came just because of this. They thought it was the hot springs, and not White Fox himself doing it. It was a small gift and it kept his abilities honed for the most part so that he didn't too rusty or lose the control he had over it.

After another minute or two, the red mist would vanish, though the feeling wouldn't; not for another half hour or so. It varied upon the person, in general, however. "Let me know when the tingling feeling goes away..." He murmured just loud enough for her to hear as he submerged his head and came back up, pushing the silver-white locks out of his face. "This is one of my guilty pleasures... I feel human, sitting here in the water. Even by myself, it brings a sense of calmness over my mind." His voice died as he closed his eyes once again, leaning back against the rock to enjoy the heat of the water relaxing his muscles.
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Offline Chiara

Re: Village of Harniraia: Home of White Fox
« Reply #23 on: November 24, 2013, 01:10:03 pm »
Due to the lack of light, Chiara followed close behind White Fox so she would know where to go, not close enough to touch him, but close enough that he would be able to feel her coldness crawling up his arm and shoulder. It didn’t take long for White Fox to stop, and when he did Chiara’s arm just barely skimmed his in her awkward attempt to stop beside him. The light from the candles was enough for her to see most of the otherwise dark room. But it was the warmth of the bathhouse she wasn’t expected. The humid air made her clothes stick to her body. Steam rose up from her skin as the coldness of her flesh battled with the warmth of the room. She wondered just what would happen when she went into the hot water. Maybe she would melt? Become one with the rest of the water? That didn’t seem likely so she pushed the very childish idea from her head. She wouldn’t melt, she knew that. Nothing was hot enough to.

White Fox immediately took to disrobing once they were in the bathhouse. The cold woman forced herself to look at the steaming water, though every now and then her eyes would act on their own and look at him. She had never met someone as… open at he was. In town he dressed so no one could see him, but now he was baring his whole to her. It made her wonder if he was doing it on purpose – doing it because he knew she was watching – or doing it simply because he didn’t care whether she saw or not. Either way, Chiara’s eyes didn’t stray lower than his waist.

When his body was fully submerged, save for his head, Chiara finally met his eyes. He kept looking at her. She wondered if he was expecting to disrobe in front of him like he had to her, without any concerns. The woman once thought the naked body was something only seen by a lover, but the time of lovers was long gone in her life. So, without further adieu, Chiara slowly began to peel off the clothing as though it were a second skin, clinging to her ice cold body. She dared not look up when she was taking her clothes off lest she have to face his scrutinizing gaze, devouring the newly revealed skin, analyzing the parts of her he found exemplary and those he did not. But if he were to look up, he would see the palest of skin staring back at him; smooth and icy cold to the touch. Her body was shapely, completely hairless save for the brown tresses falling from her head in glossy waves, reaching down to the gentle curve of her lower back. Despite being ‘dead’, Chiara had the body of any other woman. But hers was more deceiving. It looked warm and alive, but her skin was cold and a deadly white.

Once her clothes were removed Chiara began to step into the water. The heat was excruciating at first, but given time for her body to adjust it felt almost pleasant. All throughout the experience her face would remain stoic; however her body gained a light pink color and began to appear livelier – more human. The woman picked the furthest spot away from White Fox to occupy, and unlike him the water would lap gently at her lips when she sat due to being several inches shorter than the man.

“What about your father, Rujin?” The name still sounded foreign to her; an awkward feeling overwhelmed her as the word was said with slight hesitation. Rujin was the name given to him at birth, but it didn’t feel right to call him that. True she liked it better than White Fox – it was warmer, welcoming – but White Fox is the name she knew him by.

Her nose wrinkled bitterly at a thought that crossed her mind. “Never mind. You don’t have to talk about it. You’ve told me more than enough; I will try to reign in my curiosity.” Already Chiara had asked so much of him, and she hadn’t divulged a single detail about herself other than her name. Her pale blue eyes looked away from White Fox’s dead ones and gazed lazily at the water in front of her. Her hair fanned out about her body, protecting the luscious skin from being seen by anyone. After a moment Chiara dove her head under the water, thoroughly wetting her thick hair and her smooth face in attempts to clean herself. Minutes ticked by before she finally reemerged with a slight gasp, hands rubbing the water from her eyes. This all felt… too human to her. The water managed to thaw out her skin, coloring it just slightly, but it didn’t get deep enough to warm her bones.

Offline Demonreach

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Re: Village of Harniraia: Home of White Fox
« Reply #22 on: November 17, 2013, 11:43:39 pm »
His head tilted slightly at her question, wondering just how intelligent this icy beauty was. Perhaps it was just luck... "Rujin is... this. White Fox is that. Rujin doesn't have the world on his shoulders like White Fox does. He is... free. Within these walls, at least." He rolled his shoulders in a non-consequential shrug. Here, he could be himself, what was left, without having to worry about responsibilities, duty. Everything White Fox was, Rujin wasn't. He wasn't. However, his voice came again, though it was distant, small. "White Fox killed the woman who birthed him and those in the same room when he came into the world. He, I, was left in that room for days. Partly because they were scared, but also because they couldn't get in. It happens, often, that infants kill their mothers as they can't control their gift. If it manifests itself that early on. Some don't get it until they are a few months to a few years, some never get their gift. Six people died bringing me into this world: husbands, brothers, uncles, fathers, sisters, mothers, aunts. Their families made sure I knew that I was a monster, a beast of burden. A useless clown meant for nothing.

"I didn't feel sorrow, how could I when I didn't even know them? Didn't understand what death even was? I hated myself for it, the lack of sympathy, of understanding. Of not caring. I was born as you see me: bereft of emotion, or a severe detachment of. I do not expect any kind of emotion towards myself as I do not feel any, but they were so angry, all the time. This is where White Fox and Rujin come together perfectly. Rujin creates while White Fox destroys."

He sighed softly, dragging himself to his feet as she finished, having used the ensuing silence to ponder her questions about herself. "While most wander all their days looking for their purpose of life, their calling, some never find it. I believe that is a lost cause. Simply take life by the short hairs and cut yourself something new. It is never as easy as it sounds, or looks, but once you start, there isn't anything greater. Protecting this village is a way of making up for the lives I've taken. Instead of taking them for the sake of the war, I do it to protect lives. Not that I hadn't before, but this is more... personal, I suppose. I've taken a liking to this place and would hate to see it fall around me. Now, enough of this heavy talk. Let us soak our worries away, shall we?"

He walked to the east side of the room, sliding the door open to reveal a rather long, narrow hallway. Walking into its depths, he emptied his mind as he was wont to do, pushing aside his worries for the most part, the dark thoughts that crept subtly upon him. His expression became a blank mask instead of the hard, stone-like visage he usually kept up.

Sliding open the door at the end of the hallway, steam rolled out, bathing him with its warmth, though it did leave specks of water along the visible flesh, the white clothes absorbing most of the water and clung to his body tightly; he continued on inside the room, which was lit up by candelabrum and smaller candles set into the wet stones that decorated the outside of the spring. He walked over to the other side, stripping himself of his clothing, slowly to keep it from ripping. Naked, again, his legs carried him into the water, the heat searing as it reddened his flesh though he paid it little heed. In other a few steps, the water carried itself past his waist. He rested against one of the larger stones, allowing his upper body to submerge as well, leaving only his head as he watched the woman.

Then he remembered he had forgotten his own towel, but let the thought pass, closing his eyes as he let the water sooth his muscles and bones.
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Offline Chiara

Re: Village of Harniraia: Home of White Fox
« Reply #21 on: November 17, 2013, 04:50:18 pm »
“If you prefer for me to call you White Fox over Rujin, then I shall do so.” She remembered his clear distaste for names when he first introduced himself, and she would respect his wishes. It would be better for her to be on his good side rather than his bad side. She may not know what exactly White Fox was, but he was strong nonetheless. Better to have him as an ally than an enemy. And just with that thought she felt pity for the White Shadow Marked – the people he was destined to hunt and kill. He said he was the worst of his brothers; so powerful he was only considered as a weapon to them and nothing more. At that thought, Chiara felt pity for White Fox. That was all he had ever known; hunt, kill, destroy.

“How does being White Fox differ than being Rujin?” She mused to herself, eyes focusing on the lumpy shape of the stew in the pot, bubbling more and more as it got hotter. A growing bubble caught her eye; the biggest by far, and when it popped and splashed some of the hot stew out of the pot and on to her arm. Instead of feeling a hot burn, Chiara felt subtle warmth, but as she looked at her arm she was surprised to see her skin glowing red where it was burned. A finger rubbed the tiny spot of stew off her arm, popping it into her mouth as a tester. It tasted good, and the small amount didn’t seem to be affecting her, so perhaps she could have a bigger serving.
 
Chiara’s eyes found the sharp lines of his face, glancing, taking everything in as he spoke, including his subtle loss of color. “Do you think that maybe I wander because I am in search of that path?” Her eyes lowered and she looked unseeingly onto the fire. “Or maybe my wandering is my path.” Pale lids closed over blue orbs; the darkness behind the curtain of her eyelids lit up by the fire. It was hard not to wander when people didn’t want her to stay; when they chased her away, when they didn’t let her stay. What was there to recreate when she had nothing? In order to create something new you need tools. Chiara doesn’t have the tools to recreate herself.

Her hands robotically took the plate from him, head nodding in understanding at his warning. “I’m sure it wouldn’t burn me…” She mumbled beneath her breath, taking up one of the forks in her free hand Chiara stabbed a piece of meat, bringing it up to her lips. She touched it to her lips first, seeing if it would in fact burn her. Not knowing exactly what she was Chiara found out that she didn’t need to eat to sustain her life, or whatever it could be called. Without a reason to eat, she never did; she never found out how eating something would affect her. Bracing herself for any possible reaction, Chiara put the chunk of meat into her mouth, finding it cooled down immensely from the contact with her icy skin.

The woman chewed it slowly; cautiously, and swallowed once it was grinded down enough. After a few moments with nothing happening, she smiled at White Fox. “I wasn’t necessarily worried, but I am glad you offered. Whatever you have would be okay enough for me to wear. You can show me after I’m done eating.” It wasn’t difficult for her to notice that he hadn’t touched his food, and she wondered what happened to his appetite. She didn’t have time to ask though, as he left back to his room.

When he emerged she looked up from her barely-eaten plate of the stew. “I’m sure they’ll be fine.” She said absentmindedly, placing one last forkful into her mouth before setting her fork on the plate and setting the plate next to his untouched one. “I’m done; we can go now if you like.” But instead of getting up, Chiara looked through the changes of clothes he offered her, setting aside the pants and shirt she thought would be too big and grabbed the towels, clutching the bundle to her chest before finally getting up.
« Last Edit: November 17, 2013, 05:15:39 pm by Chiara »

Offline Demonreach

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Re: Village of Harniraia: Home of White Fox
« Reply #20 on: November 17, 2013, 02:26:42 am »
White Fox cocked an eyebrow towards her, "Chiara, huh?" His tongue rolling the 'r' almost purposely. Names were names, and he'd do away with his if he could. Why should he be defined by some arrangement of syllables that someone decided who he was? Why not be named after some great deed, or deeds done in some noble cause? But, in the end, not everyone shared this same belief, which was fine with him. Not everyone could be called something that defined their actions, he supposed, though there were plenty of titles to bestow upon someone.

He tried his best to be a simple man. Complexities in life led to a great many things, and happiness wasn't one of them, but he still hadn't even found his own happiness. He stayed with his brothers and sisters because he felt a duty to, not out of happiness.

But his moment of reflection was cut off as she stared, slack-jawed at his uncovered face. He shot her a withering stare, a faint redness coming to life along the intricate patterns of the tattoo, though it quickly left. He hated the stares, the looks. The judgement. The wooden handle of the ladle creaked as his fist tightened on it. White Fox accepted who he was, what he was, and it wasn't as if he was hiding from himself. He knew his very soul to the finest detail. Briefly, as he watched her trace her lips, he pondered the idea that she was dead on the outside, while he was dead on the inside. Her body showed this death, while his betrayed his life. In the end, however, he supposed they were both untouchable. Which was just as well, he couldn't afford to get close to anyone or anything, living or otherwise. That's were weakness grew and he wasn't weak. He refused to be weak.

As her uttered her last few words, White Fox felt something tug at the edge of his memory, "An outsider wouldn't. Why do you wander? Looking for something lost? Because you want to be what you were previously? What if you don't like what you find? Sure that was you, but it was a past you. This is you now. Let go of your past and recreate yourself anew. Forge a new path." His blood-red eyes stared at his palms, his pallor losing what little color it did have. He didn't feel guilty, no pain, or regret; just an empty husk of nothing.

He grabbed one of the plates, as he didn't have bowls, and poured some of the stew into it, handing it to her. "It's hot, careful." He poured himself some as well, though he set it aside, watching her. "If you are worried about clothes, I have plenty to spare. Most of it is white, however, and cotton as well. Not sure if that makes a difference but you'd be amazed. I'm sure you won't want to sleep in those, as you've been in them all day. If you would like, I will show you were the bathhouse is, which is also fed by the hot springs. I'm sure it'll do you some good. Whenever you are ready, I'll take you there. I'm sure I could use a bath as well."

Still, he hadn't touched his food, and by the looks of things, he probably wouldn't. He didn't feel hungry. "Feel free to eat as much as you want. I won't stop you." He murmured to her as he got up, walked to the wall that led to his room, slid it open and entered, glancing around.

His eyes settled on a dai-katana and a kodachi, resting on a weapon rack next to his clothing. He slid open the closet door and pulled out a few pants and shirts of various sizes for her and gathered a few towels as well. He walked back out, leaving the room open. "I brought a few changes of clothing for you, one of them should fit at least." He laid them beside her, along with two of the three towels, and resumed his seat, watching her intently, almost like a predator stalking its prey. His eyes closed as he fell into tune with the silence, save for the soft crackling of the embers; his ears twitched lightly as he strained to hear her breathing, her heartbeat.
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Offline Chiara

Re: Village of Harniraia: Home of White Fox
« Reply #19 on: November 16, 2013, 08:11:44 pm »
Amusement entered Chiara's eyes, the smile curving her lips growing only slightly at his words of her not killing him in his sleep. "I'm sure I wouldn't stand a chance anyways," She murmured, turning her eyes up to his person as he began to divulge information. What he said made complete sense to Chiara, some even answering her unspoken questions. Demon of the Red Mist. That explained the mist she saw him expel while they were walking to the dojo; however she was still curious as to what the red mist was exactly and what effects it would have on a person.


When he paused she looked at him expectantly, waiting to hear more about his very interesting self. She didn't once think he would want to hear about her, so she remained quiet. As she expected, he spoke once more. What he said next was a complete surprise to her. Shock was evident on her face; brows raised and soft pink lips in the shape of an 'o'. "Rujin.." She whispered, testing the feel of the name flowing off her lips. It was definitely more warm than White Fox, and Chiara decided she liked it more too. "My name is Chiara; and I think it's better than Eira." She said back to him, another smile forming on her lips at her reference to his teasing before. "And I like Rujin better than White Fox.." She added as an afterthought, fingers coming up to delicately trace the curve of her bottom lip.


Her moment of jest was cut short when he pulled his mask off his face. She could feel her jaw go slack, eyes greedily taking in the newly exposed skin. She didn't expect what she saw, but it was beautiful nonetheless. After a few moments Chiara's slack jaw tightened and her lips formed a tight line.


Several moments past with only the sound of the stew sloshing around as he stirred it ringing between them. White teeth nibbled sharply on a bottom lip, eyes studying the intricate lines zagging across his sharp and angular features. "I don't understand why you hide." She said, voice soft as her eyes darted away from him and settled on the bubbling stew. Chiara had decided she would try the stew, to see if she could eat it and hypothesis what it would do to her.

Offline Demonreach

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Re: Village of Harniraia: Home of White Fox
« Reply #18 on: November 16, 2013, 06:08:56 pm »
He watched as the warmth of the fire peeled back the hard exterior of the woman. While he had seen many strange and beautiful sights, and sights just as horrendous as to rip out the sanity of a normal man, it was nice to be able to enjoy the view instead of in the heat of battle, or an assignment. His body was sitting dangerously close to the fire, though it hardly fazed him as he stirred the stew some as he mulled over a few thoughts. White Fox could feel her eyes on him, as he had felt them when he came out of the room earlier before, but didn't mind overly much. Not a lot of people saw him in this light, which is what he preferred in all honesty.

Letting out a soft breath, he rolled his shoulders in a small shrug, "I hadn't exactly meant secrets as such, but I suppose you aren't going to kill me in my sleep." He paused for a brief moment, "I am White Fox, Demon of the Red Mist, Holder of the Black Rising Sun. As you've gathered, I am a Black Shadow-Marked warrior." He fell quiet, red eyes watching the woman intently through impassive eyes. He didn't particularly care if she offered anything about herself, he understood the need for secrecy and wouldn't push the issue. "But I'll allow you to call me Rujin."

In truth, he hadn't used his actual name in many, many years; it felt like he had almost forgotten it. However, as his stomach alerted him to its hunger, he realized he faced a problem. He'd have to remove the mask to eat, which he didn't have a problem with, but with another person here... His eyes tightened around the corners as he felt a soft of irritation at facing this problem.

Without ceremony, he pulled it away from his face, revealing a black and dull, red tattoo that curled around his cheeks, nose, jawline, and along his throat. The tattoo didn't seem to have a beginning or an end as it swirled in on itself in various patterns in a mix of sharp, jagged lines and soft, smooth lines. This was his Mark. Slowly, the Mark turned a soft black as he suppressed the power within, allowing it to sleep. "This is my Mark, of who and what I am. Any of the Shadow Marked will be able to know who I am and what I am just by looking at it, though we already have a heightened sense of awareness that allows us to find each other and detect the White Shadow-marked with relative ease." His features, now more evident, were angular and sharp in definition. An attractive man, by any means. It wasn't as if he was ashamed of who or what he was, there was no sense in parading about with it showing all the time like a beacon. He stuck out, and though while he did in his overly-dressed manor, he blended in easier to the surroundings around him.

Slowly, he stirred the stew.
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Offline Chiara

Re: Village of Harniraia: Home of White Fox
« Reply #17 on: November 16, 2013, 05:18:20 pm »
Chiara stepped foot inside his home but remained rooted in her spot, eyes cast down to look at her bare feet, white skin scuffed up with dirt. She was hesitant to move from her spot, looking around for White Fox for permission to pad in. Her eyes found him in one of the side rooms, stripping the clothes from his body. If she wasn’t so could she would have bet that heat would’ve flood her cheeks at the sight. Instead of dwelling on such a thought –and sight- Chiara quickly moved away from her spot, admiring the nearest plant to get the image of his smooth, muscled back out of her head.

A hand reached out to stroke a leave of the small tree. Instantly the coldness of her being caressed the leaves; frost began to form on the green, travelling from her fingertips to the tree. Startled, Chiara pulled her hand away with wide set eyes. It wasn’t as if she didn’t expect that to happen, but she didn’t want to face White Fox’s wrath were he to reemerge to a frozen plant and a guilty Chiara.

The sound of the man sliding open the door made Chiara whirl around to face him, her features gaining touches of shock as she took in his new attire. It was a complete change from him being fully –and overly- clothed; granted she had seen him basically **** just moments before. She allowed herself a brief moment to appraise him with her eyes; taking in sights she hadn’t seen before – or didn’t take the time to admire. His arms, for instance, were something she didn’t look at when he was stripping down to his bare essentials. They were strong like the rest of him, with toned muscles lurking beneath the smooth pale skin that covered the rest of his body. Her eyes travelled down the length of them; trailing from his shoulders to his biceps down to hands that had seen too many days of work. “That room is fine.” Pale blue eyes flitted lazily to his face, a nod of her head signifying she would do as he asked as he left the dojo to get water.

She moved around the room robotically, joints hitching every so often. She grabbed the matches and set them onto the floor next to the fire pit so her hands were free to gather wood if it were needed. Once it was arranged to her liking she withdrew a match and struck it against the wood, lighting it. A sigh of relief flooded her lips as light illuminated the room. The sunlight was almost gone, leaving the village to the slight light of the moon, which wasn’t enough light for Chiara to see in. The fire made her feel safe; it allowed her to see what she could not see.

For several long minutes Chiara looked onto the fire, awaiting White Fox’s return with the water. He returned shortly and began to mull about the dojo, getting out the items he would need for their dinner. He was very analytical with what he did, doing only what was needed and nothing more. A small smile began to pull on the corners of her pale pink lips – the stain of red finally softening to a light pink. “Just tell me if you need any help...” It was said as an act of kindness, but secretly she hoped he wouldn’t ask. Chiara couldn’t remember the last time she ate food and she knew full well she wouldn’t be able to remember how to make a simple stew.

She watched on as he began to cut things up; seeming to become more animated as he wielded the knife, slicing things perfectly with smooth even strokes.  When he asked her about adding things Chiara would only nod her head, though she was completely oblivious as to what exactly he was adding. But she did it to amuse him, not wanting him to lose the kind of animation he had while preparing the food.

The smell of the food mixed with the smell of the wood was… interesting. It tickled her senses; made her mouth salivate and soothed her mind all at the same time. A smirk appeared on her face as he spoke. “What kind of secrets are you willing to share?” She questioned with an arched brow, settling down in a spot near the fire. Being so close to the heat did little to warm her being, but it did manage to soften her hard exterior, revealing the vulnerable woman once more. Her eyes gained a slight sparkle and darkened in color, and a light, barely visible, pink stained her cheeks as her lips darkened as well.  She looked warm, her body full and curved like any other woman’s, but if one were to touch her they would be shocked with how icy her skin still was.

Chiara tore her eyes away from White Fox, settling them on the fire before she spoke again. “What kind of secrets are you looking to uncover?” He had shared so much with her already and she hadn’t revealed anything. Not that there was much to say anyways. Her mind was unable to fathom any memory from before she woke up frozen. That was her deepest memory; waking up with skin ice cold and not an idea of how it happened. Every now and then she would get hints; a smell that triggered fondness, an action that made her feel amused, or a sight that was déjà vu. But that was as far as it went. Never would she be able to fully remember.

 

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