Surprises in Winter

[Roan Bélanger]

@Kenna [/center]

Roan couldn't imagine that anything of interest existed in these Darkness cursed mountains. The air was brittle, like the faint dusting of snow that crackled beneath his feet. And it was cold. Colder than it ever got in Paon, though not the soul shriveling freeze of Glacia. A place he refused to return to after a single winter foray.

But he still didn't like the cold. It made his skin draw tight and his hair bristle. Chilling the tips of his fingers and biting the end of his nose until he thought it was running. He ended up sniffing perpetually, or rubbing his face against his shoulder when he needed to be silent.

The town had been dreary. Shut up tight, probably because of the cold as much of the late hour. Smoke poured from the chimneys, turning the sky a bland sort of grey. After using his Red to pop the darker locks among the buildings, he'd slunk away. First behind what someone suspected was a warehouse - and Roan suspected they were right - and then into the trees.

There were a few others creeping among the tall shadows, scouting houses farther out. Roan went past them. Roaming farther, higher, which was colder. But the deeper snow cushioned his foot steps, and the branches and leaves froze in a manner that was appealing. None of it would last the trip home, but he'd still have the memories.

The quiet was eerie. And subtle. The leaves didn't tremble in a way he was used to. Water dripped from a lattice work of frozen pillars handing from branches, occasionally dotting his cheek or hair. It made him flinch - colder than cold - but there was the beginnings of a pond teasing him through the trees. Ice working in from its shores in a way he wanted to see.

His probes found nothing alarming. Sleeping or sleepy animals, mostly. Like the town, they tried drowsing the cold away. The screams from below faint enough to not be disturbing. The crackle of power in the air made him edgy, but Roan knew he'd find nothing to test or interest him in the houses or shops. The mountains were a desert.

Roan was sure only trouble came from the cold.

Alarm swept up his spine. Probe swirling against something not quite right. Too late though. A shadow launched itself at him, and Roan was rolling before his thinking brain could catch up with his instinct. Shields forming, craft melting snow. He snarled and grappled, burying fingers in hair, and flesh, his nose in dirty clothing.

Enemy! Attach! His brain screamed, but another part of him, older and darker, kept his craft from melting barriers and webs so much lighter than his own. Not quite. The old dragon in him whispered. The prince of warlords. Not quite.

[Alesia Skye]

Alesia was out hunting, a bow slung over her back and a dagger glinting in her hand. She left no tracks in the snow, the land shifting and stretching out to protect its Queen. Her land.  The silent trees, the echo of a bird as it flew, a single black speck streaking the grey sky. She knew every hollow, every root, every sapling that was just breaking free from the dirt. Right now, the hidden Queen had her eyes on a buck below her, its horns pronged and its eyes staring off in the distance, listening. She knocked an arrow to her bow, the rough bark underneath her, and was about to hit the animal straight in the heart when a vibration caught her attention. A shift. Through the dirt, up the tree she was perched in, and into her slender frame.

The land was soaking up blood.

Lowering her bow, the buck ran off as Sia put her hand on the tree and reached out with her Land Sense. She followed the roots of the fur tree, under the dirt and across the forest, until she felt a disturbance in the village below. Blood pooled on her land and feet rushed across the surface, boots digging deep into the land. The Queen swept away from the disturbance, searching for others, strays wondering up her mountain.

There was one, his steps careful, steady, drawing closer to her home. While it was hidden well, the land obscuring the entrance, Alesia was not one to take a chance. In fact, she was not one to let anyone to come close to her family and live to return to theirs. There was a reason that the village people spoke of the Hell Hound in the mountain, guarding the mountain pass from wayward travelers.

Sia made her way down the tree and silently climbed another, using the tangled branches of the evergreens to climb upward and across, until she was lying in wait for the male. For it was a male. She could tell that much from the heaviness of his steps, stupid and heavy. No sense of the marks he left on the land. Her clothes, made from the pelts of the animals she killed, blended in with the brown of the trees and her scent, a mix of fur leaves and herbs, was that of the forest itself. A psychic and visual shield wrapped around her body as Sia’s prey crept closer. Just like the buck that had gotten away. The temperature dropped lower as he appeared, the snow cracking under foot and the air freezing in the throat.

One more step. One more step.

A knife was thrown, perfect and deadly, at the male’s back a second before the hidden Queen leapt from the branches. Her hands were raised above her head, elbow pointed out, hopefully to smash down on the male’s skull. Such a blow, if successful, could knock him out or seriously daze him. If not, she would scramble away from her target, ripped hair left in his hands and wild eyes, before drawing the sword at her waist to challenge him.

[Roan Bélanger]

The fabric of his clothing had parted. Cut, he realized, as the cold air wove its way into the crack to caress his skin. Shields too tight to protect clothing he was likely to discard anyway. Roan so hated to bring all the cling psychic imprints left of his raid clothing home to disturb his wife.

Or make her ask questions.

A single bead of blood welled his shoulder blade. Roan could smell his own power in it. The heaviness of his caste, and the dark promise of his Red. Licking his lips, he took in the scene. A wild creature was poised before him. All tangled hair and dirty hides, waving a sword at him like a child's toy. Roan blinked, half crouched and ready. His thumb rubbing strands of hair along his finger.

"Really?" He asked her, surprise rising the pitch of his snarled accusation. A sword? Against him? Maybe she didn't understand. She was foolish enough to engage him in first place. Roan's heart stuttered in his chest. He hated killing women. But when he walked the fields, Roan killed everything without much thought.

But the killing field did not stretch between them. Just snow and confusion tinged annoyance. "That was, lady, very stupid of you." Maybe he was capture her. It was the thing to do. Drag pretty women back to the islands to serve Paon's glory as slaves. Roan ambushed her with probes. A woman, most definitely, with Jewels a blink in comparison to his Red.

Most of her his however. Caste and flat taste on his tongue. It was like her appearance, too muddied to be judged. He brought the hair she'd shed in his fist to his nose, sniffing. Not quite. That little voice whispered, disturbing him. Roan shrugged it away and lunged, one long arm snaking out to test her reflexes. Craft sweeping out for the opposite ankle.

He wasn't afraid of some furlined waif brandishing a sword. Lazy as he was, Roan was a warrior of Paon.

[Alesia Skye]

Blood.

It cut through the air like her knife had. Alesia smiled, her white teeth bared in the light, until she felt the world shift. Her leap, perfect and agile before, faltered. She landed off balance, a twig snapping and birds flying away from the tree and up into the gray sky. Her heart tightened, contracted, and then cleaved in two. Sia tried to keep a hold of the piece, grasp it as tight as she could, but as she stared at the stranger, it floated away and right into his body. The snap of a connection settled in her breast.

Well, fuck.

Maybe, if she killed him quickly, he would not realize what had occurred. Maybe, if she killed him quickly, she could ignore the strange new longing to lick the blood from his wound. Alesia moved to the side, circling the male, assessing the scene. Shielded. Some warrior. A coward more like. “Perhaps. But you have wondered into my territory. It is not so easily taken as the village.” With her words, the forest started to move. An eerie wind whipped through the branches as vines circled around his ankles, tripping the male up, thorns reaching for his skin. As he moved, it would get worse, the land attempting to make him stumble.

Most men would trip as they lunged, but if this one was more coordinated, he could certainly succeed. Regardless, Sia felt his attack seconds before he made it, his weight shifting on the land, his foot-dragging against the sensitive earth. She moved right, easily missing his lung. A snarl left her lips as she felt his craft wrap around her ankle, pulling, surprising her. Falling sideways, Sia used her free hand to catch her fall and transition into a simple cartwheel, regaining her balance fluidly. 

Fire shown in her blue eyes as she glared at the intruder, the vines coming faster now, thicker, wrapping around the invader. A crack began to appear in the land, jagged and angry. She didn’t raise her sword to attack though. Instead, she paused, her teeth bared, annoyed at her weakness.

“You should leave. You are not welcome here.”

No one was welcome in her mountains. Not even a Heart Bonded male.

[Roan Bélanger]

Roan smirked, weight shifting as he turned slowly, stalking her. He didn't usually drag hapless victims home, but this time it might be fun to take her down a peg or two. The lack of screaming and crying was certainly a strange turn of events. Enough to keep him interested, and less than murderous.

"All things belong to the Mother." He chided, a shiver running down his spine as he thought of the fat Black priestess sitting atop of Thure. All things for the glory of Paon. But this girl wouldn't understand. Maybe one day the realms would against remember what it was to tremble at the whispered name, but not now. For now their secrecy must remain.

"What is to want of a few trees?" Roan asked, swaying as the world seemed to shift. Quick Opal probes swept outward, searching for others. Had she been hiding an army, this sneaky mountain cat? But he felt nothing but empty forest. And anger. Hers probably. Roan's probe licked out toward her as well. What was she? Other than foolish.

They clashed again. Roan suddenly tangled in vines that had not existed before. Much like the gnarled roots of Paon, they reache dup to trip and grasp at him. He missed her, widely, with his arm. But his craft was quicker to adjust. Catching her ankle and sending her sprawling. It gave Roan time to adjust, his Red burning vines away. Shields pulsing against thorns.

"Cute trick." He snarled at her fleeing form. What was that, acrobatics? Roan glared, fingers worrying each other. Gently. Whispered warning in his heart as his temper rose. Why? He pulled a vine from his calf and tossed it at her, following it. His craft swept outward. An inferno. Roan lifted a shield between the girl and the blast at the last second, diving for her feet.

If he could just pin her down and get a good whiff, he was sure he could figure everything out.

[Alesia Skye]

Alesia did not fear death. The Darkness was a joy, covering everything in a cycle that gave and took, like the slow turns of the seasons. She had kept herself isolated from most everything that might instill that fear in her—everything except her daughter. The small girl was on her mind as she moved, nimble as the wind, through the forest that she had made her home. The forest that she had strengthened with her blood and her protection. “Yes, but you are certainly not the Mother.” Who was this male to tell her about the Mother? This Warlord Prince that spilled blood for no reason in the village and disrupted the calm of the forest with his heavy footfalls?

He was hers, a small voice chided.

“Bastard.” She snarled. Alesia detested the smug look on his face, the easy way he prowled forward, muscle naturally given to him. If she had been born a Warlord prince, she would have taken him down by now. Mother Night liked to play her games, indeed.

The vine did not distract her, but the blast did. Many in the village were not Blood and although Harlow had trained with her, he had only been a Tiger Eye Warlord. She had never faced someone so Dark Jeweled before. Perhaps she needed to improvise. Her Summer Sky shield came up as protection, but thankfully, the blast did not hit her full-on. Sia did not have time to think about her good fortune, because the force of the blast still knocked her backward, disturbing the Web that hid her caste, weakening it. Sia felt the Warlord Prince jump forward, his feet sliding across the ground, but she did not have enough time to dart away. Instead, she fell backward, onto the forest floor, her own teeth biting hard into her palm as she fell, drawing blood. Her palm slapped against the white ground, crimson leaking out underneath.

With the blood offering, Alesia used her Summer Sky to draw the crack forward, underneath the tree to her right. The crack went deep, and her Craft uprooting the tree even as the Warlord Prince attempted to pin her. A great groan sounded in the silent forest as the great tree fell towards the pair, Sia raising her foot to try and kick the male in the head and slip away.

[Roan Bélanger]

Tricky little bitch. Roan felt one of the laces on his boot tug free, snagging on twisting vine thorn and pulling loose. It was like a distant thing, happening far away to someone else. Needle teeth slipped through his shield and bit against his clothing. Snagging and plucking as he tried to close the distance between himself and the woman. All his focus intent and transfixed on this one point.

On her. The rest of the world did not exist. The little hurts did not matter. The rumble in the ground was just the snarl in his chest.

She retreated, and he chased. Craft rocking the world around them and knocking her down. A howl of triumph rose in the back of his throat. Roan tripped on his own boot lace running her down. He tumbled after her, reaching out to catch himself with one hand. And to pin her sword bearing hand with his other. His control slipped away, burying his face in her hair, he inhaled. Her blood sang around them, metallic salt in the air, wooing him.

Roan groaned, licking her temple as she wiggled. "Where are you going?" He demanded, trying to pull her back. Swatting the sword away as she writhed, Roan didn't want to worry about being stabbed while he pawed at her, hand latching onto her hips as she kicked away. His shields exploding as she fled and the tree cracked over his shoulders, driving him into the dirt.

Where had that come from? Confusion turned swiftly to rage. Humiliation to defense. Pressing himself upward, Roan sank deep into his Red and let it loose. Power roared out of his body, shattering the tree and jarring his bones, which ached from the impact of both the tree and the craft. Wood rained down around them, and drew attention from those who had slunk too close.

"Get. Back. Here." He snarled. With him was where she belonged. This one he was taking back. She had a lesson to learn. Stumbling to his feet, Roan joined the chase again.

[Alesia Skye]

Damn the Darkness.

She felt the cold snow bite against her neck as she was pinned to the ground, her arms and legs thrashing against the male’s weight. He was too close. Far too close. The Web that hid her caste was still intact, but she could feel the warmth of his body against hers. She could feel the beat of his anger and his desire along the tether that stretched through the inches of space between them, through her breast, and into her heart.

Again, damn the Darkness.

As the Warlord Prince ran his tongue over her forehead, Alesia revved back and spat full in his face. A hiss split through her teeth as she put her Craft into the land, feeling the strength of the soil, the hidden power that others missed. It was beautiful, far more beautiful than the cursed Bond that Mother Night had forced on her. Leaving her sword behind, Sia ran from the clearing, the leather of her jacket patting softly against her waist. She could hear the explosion behind her, feel the rage that swept through the trees and into her small form.

He was going to overtake her soon, pin her, and kill her most likely. Perhaps rape her. She had heard the stories of the raiders and she wouldn’t let that happen. The Queen fingered the knife in her pocket as she looked up into the trees, jumping onto the nearest one before she could regret her decision

Climbing upward, faster and faster, she went up and up. She wrapped a sight and sound shield around herself before laying on a psychic shield. A small bleed of Craft slipped downward, vanishing what small amount of tracks her light steps might have made. Perhaps she could lose him. Perhaps he would go away and she would never have to face the ache inside her that hurt at the thought of him leaving.

[Roan Bélanger]

Her taste lingered on his tongue. Roan stood, body swaying, arms hanging loose and heavy at his sides. The world seemed to dip for a moment. Rolling, then tilting. Greying at the edges and then snapping into focus again.

And her taste lingered. He held his tongue still in his mouth, as if movement would chase away the salt and dirt she'd left behind. His blood made the air sing. Small cuts from the rain of smoking wood. Shield forgotten in his rage at having a tree dumped on him. The rapid beating of his heart was like the ocean in his ears, nearly drowning out the sound of her escape.

But her taste lingered. Inhaling, Roan shook of his stupor, boots digging into the soft earth as he turned. He bared his teeth, pressed his tongue to the roof of his mouth, and sucked in air. And some of her spittle. Chuckling, he wiped it away. And then he ran. That way, that way. The dark beast in his heart whispered.

This way. This way.

Drawn by the furious expenditure of craft, one of the other raiders had decided to investigate. Roan felt him, sweeping probes searching for the sneaky little bitch who had gone to ground again. Where was she hiding this time? Roan scanned the trees. High, and then low, when he sensed the approach of the other male.

Oh no. That wouldn't do. Not with her taste like a hot knife pressed to his tongue. "Go." He demanded. And then sent the other male away, his Red racing like a serpent through the trees. There was no hope, no escape, not even a glimmer of a chance for obedience or disobedience. He sent the other male away in pieces.

"Where are you?" He asked, the words gritty. He could still taste her. Like a storm. Roan's lips smacked. The killing fields always turned the artist into a madman. Full or wretched genius. Roan began taking down the trees. One by one. So sure she had to be in one.

[Alesia Skye]

The trees cast long shadows across the ground, like large slashes against the white snow. Alesia knew each one of these trees, had rested her hand against so many of them that they hummed when she walked among them. It was strange that her mother could not hear it. The beat of the land has thrummed within her ever since she was a girl, learning to string a bow from the tree saplings that would soon get strangled out for want of sunlight. Sometimes, if she listened closely enough, the land would lead her to something special. First, it had been a shallow pool, fed through a hot spring deep inside a cave. Then a bush filled with the sweetest berries she had ever tasted. But mostly it was quiet beautiful places, tucked deep in the mountainside, that allowed the Queen to breathe. To feel alone. Truly unattached.

Very unlike now.

Feeling the loud thump of her beating heart, Sia could feel the rage of the Warlord Prince below her. Hells Fire, she could feel it inside her. Had he realized what had happened yet? Probably not. Males were blessed with many things, but intuition certainly wasn’t among them. Even Harlow had been rather oblivious, but Alesia found most people did not rise to her level of attentiveness. Even her daughter.  Most people were simply boring. Or they lied. Sia detested both.

As she climbed higher, the Queen could feel the wind whip through her hair, throwing a few of her loose braids into her eyes. But she did not need to see to know where to grip next. She could sense it, as easy as feeling the sun against her skin. This forest was hers in a way this male would never be. No matter what Mother Night wished. No matter what the heavy rock in her stomach foretold. She could outrun this male and the Bond in the same way that she had outrun the rest of the world.

Gripping the bark tightly, Sia brought her feet up until they laid flat on the trunk. She glanced behind her shoulder at the closest tree and used her leverage to jump towards it, casting her hands out to grip the rough branch closest to her. She had done this with her daughter once, the child laughing as they flew from tree to tree. But that had been when she could plan each leap and death had not crept through her forest.

Ignoring the male’s call, Alesia continued to jump above his head, putting a little distance between them. If she could make it to the caves a little over four-hundred yards away, she could lose the raider in the tunnels. Then, he would leave her forest. She would never see him again.

Her breath caught in her throat at that.

But she had no time to debate those feelings, because just as she leaped towards the next tree—it began to fall away from her, blasted free by Dark Jeweled Craft. Crying out, Alesia felt her fingers grasp only air before she hit the ground, hard. A hasty shield broke some of her fall, but her head slammed against a rock hidden in the snow and her vision flickered. A copper tang filled her mouth. She stared up at the grey sky, framed by shadowed branches before she blacked out.

[Roan Bélanger]

Why were there so many vines to trip on? Roan had never experienced anything so like the twisted jungles of Paon - outside of Paon. The faster he moved, the more trees he felled, the more often he found his body stumbling toward the ground. It made him angry.. er. He yanked at them as they twisted around his ankles.

Howling as he dragged them from the ground and flung them away from him. Chasing the trees he knocked down. Eyes searching, nose smelling. Never thinking that knocking down a tree a person was in might harm them. Hardly thinking at all, he was driven by the howling beast. The other male forgotten. The fact that they had shared a ship to these shores never even thought of.

At the moment there was no pack. Just Roan and the girl-woman, whatever she was. Nasty, hiding thing, with that not right smell he couldn't get enough of. What was she? He had to know. And then her blood sang to him. That had to be her. Grinning, Roan ran her down, which was easy to do. She was sprawled motionless on the ground.

The snow around her dark hair was stained red. The smell of tickled his nose. Burned the back of his throat. Roan's teeth gnashed, the prince inside of him screaming. Fool, fool, fool. He should kill her, Roan thought. Surely he should finish it. Hand sliding under her body, he hefted her up instead, cradling her against his chest. Elbow lifting her shoulders higher so he could sniff at her temple and hair.

Craft pooling at the wound at the back of her head to staunch the bleeding. He could do that much. Any warrior ought to know how. "I told you not to runaway." He told her, kissing her cheek and nuzzling that good place in front of her ear. He really should kill her. Instead Roan held her tighter. Too tight. Clutching her possessively as he walked off into the trees.

No place in mind. Somewhere quiet where he could sit and pet her. Waiting for her to wake up. Back against a tree. Craft warming the freezing night air. Woman like a baby in his lap, head pillowed on his shoulder. She was quite pretty, he decided, wiping the dirt from her face. A wild little bitch, but pretty. Roan wanted her. Needed her. "Are you awake?" He asked her, the prince laughing inside.

[Alesia Skye]

Alesia’s mother was skilled at weaving Webs, but even the best Black Widow in all of Little Terreille could not blot out the draw of Queen’s blood. Not with her Bonded. Even now, as Sia’s sticky wine-red hair blew in the slight breeze, her scent wove through the trees. The Web hid her true caste, but her blood never smelled quite right when it hit the air. Never. Once, right after fucking, Alesia had asked Harlow what the Web did to his sense of her since she was almost never without it. He had replied that it was as if she had taken a shit to hide the smell of a candle. Sia had nearly blasted him out of the tree the two had climbed up, but years later, she smiled at the memory.

Funny how memory worked like that, glowing around the edges as time passed and people were lost.

There were no memories where Alesia was now though. No memory, no dreams, just darkness. The calm cooling kind—where time slid off like water on glass. Her arms hung limp as the Warlord Prince picked her up and her mouth parted slightly. Up close, the male could see the intricate detail of the braids in her hair. Dalia had done them, taking hours to braid each piece, coil the, and tie small flowers into a few strands. She had pulled back a few of the braids, weaving them together, creating a loose half-up look, which was the closest to “getting ready” that Sia could stand.

One of the flowers fell to the ground as the Prince carried her, sliding out of her hair, down her neck, and onto the white snow.

It was only when they were sitting, still, that the Summer Sky woman began to stir. But it came slowly, at first. Her glassy eyes flickered—the muddled form of a male—and then closed again. She felt a warm hand on her face and her lips moved for several moments before a word slipped from them. “Harlow?” Alesia tried to open her eyes, but her head pounded right behind her eyes, like someone had slipped a dagger through her temple.

Fighting through the haze, Sia commanded herself to wake the fuck up. Someone was touching her. And it sure as hell wasn’t Harlow. She opened her eyes only through sheer stubbornness, their blue tint shining under the speckled light of the trees. There was a small breathe where she looked up into the Warlord Prince’s face, his dark hair, long neck, and soft eyes, where everything was still. The forest quieted and she stared up at her male with a tiny crease in her forehead that meant she was thinking.

And then she hissed, her long nails raking down his arms as she scrambled away—only to groan and go to her knees.

And then throw up.

She felt like she was going to split in half, but that was not what was on her mind. “How DARE you bring down so many trees! Some of those were around before you were even a thought in your mother’s womb.” She was so outraged that she spit the words at him—before promptly throwing up again.   

At least she had given the raider a piece of her mind before he killed her.

[Roan Bélanger]

"No." Roan assured her, eyes glittering dangerously. Whoever and wherever this Harlow was, Roan hoped he was dead, and if he wasn't, that death was swiftly coming for him. Especially if he was foolish enough to let this one go running around unaccompanied to act the fool.

He liked her better when she was sleeping, Roan decided, wincing as she raked her nails down his arm. Really, that was horribly unfair. If she'd merely been still, he wouldn't have had to run her down that way. Besides, she had started the whole thing jumping out of trees at him.

Losing didn't sit well with her, he saw. But that was okay, it didn't sit well with Roan either. That's why he never lost.

Roan let go. She couldn't escape him now, unless she opened a portal into Hell and vanished into it. Which seemed unlikely. She didn't get far anyway. Slithering from his lap like an angry cat only to vomit all over the trampled snow. Roan's nose wrinkled in distaste. The smell was terrible, Forcing him to slide his feet under his body, crouching rather than lounging to keep any of it from touching him.

What a strange, strange woman. "They're trees." He shrugged, patting her back sympathetically while she threw up even more. He didn't feel the least bit guilty for taking down a single tree, much less half a dozen. And he didn't really feel guilty for nearly crushing her skull along the way. She should have had better sense.

Roan summoned a scrap of fabric from his cabinet. Turning it over in his fingers, he realized it was a piece of Zepjyrine's dress that he'd torn. Grinning, he put that away and tried again. This one was better. A good rag for holding guts in until healers could be summoned. "Here." He offered, holding it out to her. Brows dark with concern. Shoulders tense with possession.

"You look a fright." He informed her, grinning cheekily. All too sure there was nothing in the world he couldn't be forgiven for. He always was, no matter how badly he behaved.

[Alesia Skye]

Sia wanted to slam the male’s head into a tree to show him their current usefulness. Trees brought life. Shelter. Fire. Shade. They brought far more than most people did, but he thought of them so linearly. How very male.

And then he had the audacity to try and offer her a rag. She bristled. When was he going to kill her? Or kidnap her? He was a raider after all. They didn’t do anything else. “If you don’t like how I look than you can look somewhere else,” she shot back, hissing at the pain speaking caused.

Sighing, Alesia did not take his cloth. “Like a piece of fabric will do anything. It is a head wound, not a scratch.” Her words were icy. He was such an idiot.

Instead, Sia called in a small wooden box. Inside, there were a variety of plants, herbs, and powders. She was by no means a healer, but she knew the land better than most people. Every stem, every bloom, had a purpose. Some more than others. Taking a deep breath, Sia tried to focus, even as her vision blurred. She took out a premade paste of stiff goldenrod, white willow, and yarrow. Each plant had antiseptic properties and the yarrow could staunch the flow of blood far better than a rag.

“Drop the shield around my wound,” she ordered. The words were clipped, not brokering any argument. If he dropped the shield, she proceeded to apply the paste to the back of her head, heating the air around it briefly so that it would dry. The plants should allow her wounds to heal enough until she found a healer, if they hadn’t all been slaughtered.

At the thought, Sia’s eyes slid to the Warlord Prince, raking over his body. Raider. Killer. Arrogant. She didn’t know anything about the people that came to their land in boats, leaving devastation behind them, but it seemed a rather pointless living. One should take pride in growing something, not taking it. Nevertheless, her male was bleeding, the falling tree obviously catching his off guard. It didn’t look bad, but the blood bothered her. Like an itch that just got worse the more she focused on it.

“Come here.” She snapped, after a long moment. “You’re bleeding and you and your men probably slaughtered all the healer’s, Mother Night knows why, so come here if you want me to dress it.” If he came to her, Sia would place the paste onto his wound and dress it with a ripped piece of her shirt. If he didn’t, she would slam her wooden box shut, annoyed at him and herself for caring.

[Roan Bélanger]

Roan wasn't used to women who didn't care about their appearance. Maybe she was just angry. Zephyrine was always clean. And shining. But it didn't do to think of his wife while he held another woman to his lap. All the women of Paon knew how to turn out. So many flowing skirts. And bear skin.

This one. This one looked like she rolled about in the muddy pits they found pigs in.

He laughed at her. "Alright." He vanished the rag, willing to see where her stubbornness lead her to. He shifted as he called a box in, Opal pooling in his body. Just a box, packed full of things. Plant things. He should take it from her, put it away in his own cabinet. There could be dangerous things in there. Or useful. But Roan let her do as she pleased.

Because it pleased him.

Strange, dirty woman, ordering him about. Smirking, he dropped the shield without imagining doing otherwise. His legs circling her body while he watched her apply the paste. Fencing her in with his long limbs so he could trip her back to his chest if she tried to get away. He wasn't done smelling her.

His grin grew when he caught her looking back at him. Women did that. Men too, sometimes if they were bent that way. Roan was used to it, and still flattered in a passive way by the attention. Mother Night had truly smiled on him in more ways than one. "I have no idea what you're talking about." He smiled, eyes empty. Roan slid closer, legs tightening around her body. He wanted to slide his arms around her too, but refrained.

"It's just me here. And I'm just fine, little song bird." He let her fuss though, sly probes sliding outward to see where the others might be. Busy. Or even going home now. The closer she came, the deeper he breathed, trying to capture her scent. His hand crept to her side, fingers sliding along her ribs, nose dipping toward her dirty skin and braided hair. 

"Closer." He crooned. "It hurts mightily."