northclifflogs | you fill up my senses like a night in a forest

WHO: Roesia & you
WHAT: Being a weirdo.
WHEN: After the execution, after the Shepherds leave.
WHERE: Various.
NOTES: Blood.

the town square.
She comes into the village when it is late - the safest time. While the guards are on alert, the townspeople are, for the most part, asleep. The shadows are long, and Roesia knows how to ask the earth to keep her steps quiet. It's the world around her that made her aware of the danger - first the Shepherds and their hunt, and then the death of their quarry. It is that death that brings her into the town square.

In the village, she covers herself; long, dark sleeves and skirts, the hood of her thin cloak pulled down low. She carries a few leather pouches, strapped to her belt, and a hunting knife is tucked between the cloak. Slipping between the shadows, avoiding the scrutiny of the guards by yawning when one gets too close - just a young maiden, returning home, time to sleep...

When she reaches the site of the execution, she looks for the blood-stained earth. The body is gone, and she can do nothing for it - but his death does not have to be in vain.

the forest.
Maybe you've wandered deeper than you meant to. Maybe Roesia has wandered closer to the village than usual. Either way, there is a young woman with black hair and strange eyes gathering plants and mushrooms, placing her choices in a woven basket. If you smile at her, she will smile back. She is polite; Mother taught her well.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Fíadh had been taught fairly early in her life that self-reliance is the best tool for ensured survival. Well, that and a big sword. But the self-reliance part is what's bringing her to the forest now. So she's quietly wandering her way through the wood in search of game, a bow in her hand and quiver on her back. Going back empty-handed certainly won't be a death-sentence, but she'd rather save her coin than spend it on food.

There's movement about fifteen feet away that makes her freeze; without second thought she grabs an arrow from her quiver and nocks it into her bow. Releasing a steadying breath she moves closer, a slow excitement building in her at the thought of fresh meat. But it doesn't take long for her to spy that it's not prey but a woman picking mushrooms. Her hopes quickly come down, but not into total disappointment. Now she's curious.

With caution she approaches the dark-haired woman, leaving her arrow firmly set in the string of her bow, but walking in a more casual gait. She's not trying to sneak up after all, just investigate.

"Are those edible?"

All things are edible once, Roesia thinks, but does not say. A hunter ought to know that. Her odd, stained eyes look at the arrow and then to the woman, but her focus returns to the mushrooms. If need be, she can handle an arrow.

"Somewhat, though many don't like them." She inspects one, measuring it with her fingers, skirts dragging against the grass and leaves covering the forest floor. "They are better for use in dyes. The colors they make are wonderful; vivid."

Exactly the sort of thing that Roesia can slip into town to sell, when necessity drives her.

It was only a brief flicker, but Fíadh could swear the woman's eyes are ... darker then normal. Or is it the shadows of the forest? Yes, surely that must be the cause. Still she can't seem to loosen her grip on her bow.

"Good to know."

Not really, Fíadh certainly has no usefor dyes, but it's an acknowledgement. She steps carefully to better face the woman while she continues talking.

"Are you very familiar with these woods? Do you know the best game to find?"

"Very familiar," she confirms, smiling first at the woman and then at the trees around them. "There is a lot of game here - rabbits and pheasants and deer. The fish in the water is good, too."

Not a lot of people dare to hunt this deep in the woods, but it happens. The forest, she thinks, will not mind this woman as much as it might mind a man. It is no time of starvation, that she is aware of; more people enter the forest out of desperation, then. But it is dangerous no matter the time of year, just like the mountains and the sea.

"Do you seek something in particular? Enough food for you, or for a family?"

Well, it seems that Fíadh was correct about something being off in the woman's eyes, and all the words that she's being told fly right out and into the aether. Fíadh recoils visibly, but seems to keep some semblance of composure in holding a gasp. Still she isn't exactly friendly as she asks the next question.

"What's wrong with your eyes? Are you sick?"

"Hm? Oh, no."

If Roesia feels threatened, she's doing rather well at keeping it under wraps. Her eyes are hardly the oddest part of her, though they're certainly some of the most noticeable. The tattoos get varying reactions, as does the scarring on her face. The eyes and the tongue, those were where people grew concerned.

"It's ink."

Fíadh's brows furrow, she certainly wasn't expecting that to be the answer. She was no stranger to tattoos, the men she grew up with had a few of their own, but to put it somewhere as painful as eyes ...

"Was it forced on you?"

This line of thought makes her relax slightly. She can't imagine anyone doing this willingly, and Fíadh is well aware of the strangeness and cruelty capable in others.

"No."

She knows that isn't the answer most expect. It had been painful. It had come with many risks, too - but Roesia had survived.

"It was my mother's idea."

So maybe it had been forced, in a way; perhaps Roesia had been too brainwashed by her mother to see it. Or perhaps it was the village that was brainwashed, sheep surrounded by wolves. Who could truly say?

Edited 2019-09-16 18:32 (UTC)

"I see."

At this point, nearly all major sense of danger has flooded out of Fíadh leaving only unease. Whether it's at the woman herself or the situation of her past, however, Fíadh isn't sure. There's probably something more she should say, like 'I'm sorry' or 'That's horrific,' but she knows full well that the words do nothing but fill air. Instead she moves on, slowly remembering the conversation before her surprise.

"... I am hunting for myself. I'd prefer not to spend money on something I can do on my own."

It's a practical approach, and the response makes Roesia smile. Clearly her eyes aren't a horror so deeply ingrained in her that it detracts from the answer.

"Not all are so self-sufficient," she muses. The forest will be kinder to this stranger than it is to most, she thinks, and so Roesia carefully covers her mushrooms and straightens with her basket. "When the sun grows highest, the animals either sleep in the shade or make their way to the water. The underbrush near it would be a good place to seek your food."

"Hm."

She mulls over her advice and gives a curt nod. That makes sense, and considering the water is also closer to the town it would likely be a safer approach. Not that she doesn't enjoy meeting strange women in the dark, foreboding woods. She shifts her bow over her shoulder and makes to move out, then pauses.

"Who are you?"

"Roesia."

Just one word - a simple enough name. If she has any others, she makes no move to include them. All she does is smile happily at the other woman, clearly pleased to make her acquaintance.

"And you?"

"Fíadh."

Just as simple. It seems the women are evenly matched for brevity. And now that she's gotten all the information she needs she makes off for good, mulling the encounter over in her head. Roesia was ... well, odd, and Fíadh is unsure if she'd go out of her way to find the woman again ... but she can't find herself loathing another encounter. It would certainly be interesting.

you fill up my senses like a night in a forest

DEEP IN THE SPOOKY FOREST

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

SORRY THIS IS SO LATE life sux

IT'S ALL GOOD

<3 ;;

no subject

life :|

LET'S JUST BOYCOTT LIFE