aran | slice of life

[eradrinfoxwood]

[atrb=cellspacing,4,true][atrb=cellpadding,5px,true][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=width,400,true][atrb=style, background-image: url(http://i.imgur.com/2AVyn.png); border-radius: 0px 0px 0px 30px; -moz-border-radius: 0px 0px 0px 30px; border: 5px solid #ced4d6;] — give in, to temptation that keeps following you tonight obey the shadows cry He didn't usually trust roads. Roads were filled with bandits he'd rather not encounter, and wolves. Well, to be fair, wolves were everywhere, as far as he knew. They were, weren't they? Were wolves in the desert, too? It would make sense that they would avoid the desert. They had thick fur. That would be a bad thing in the desert, right? He wasn't too sure... Maybe it would. Maybe it wouldn't. Maybe they were special desert wolves with thinner fur. He'd have to ask someone from the desert. Did he even know anyone from the desert? He also wasn't aware of that. Maybe he could just go and figure it out himself? No, that wouldn't do. He couldn't just go to the desert, especially now that he was with pirates. Pirates had ships and boats. They didn't go to deserts. Deserts were wastelands and gross and he hated them, though he'd never been to one. He hated the concept of them. Dirty and filled with nothingness, and hot. No, that would never do. He'd just ask. He'd have to find someone from the desert, but he was sure he could find someone... He was determined. Ah, right, where was he? Roads. Regardless of the danger roads almost certainly guaranteed, he found himself upon one, moving supplies from one location back to his ship in a satchel at his back, specific ingredients that couldn't be found just anywhere. It'd have taken a lot to find them on his own, so he just stole them off some idiot in a shop. Easiest damn thing ever. Well, not so much, but it wasn't overly difficult, either. The guy was half blind and a bit drunk. The only problem was the risk of someone walking in, which was high. But he was getting off the subject, wasn't he? Yes, yes he was. Roads. He was on a road now. It was early morning and his breath misted in the dense fog as he traveled through, ears alert for even the scurry of a flat footed rabbit, because rabbit was extremely tasty and he wasn't above murdering one for a bit of it. Fry it up in a pan. Which reminded him.. he was quite hungry as it was. He could stop for the apple in his bag, just for a bit. He wouldn't keep his ears off his surroundings, he'd just have a quick bite then be off on his way once more. That was fine, wasn't it? He was sure it was. It wouldn't put him back for more than a few minutes... well, maybe an hour. He found a group of boulders to climb upon and sit, on the second one to the top and not the top one. He wasn't an idiot. Someone could see him more easily. Maybe he was being paranoid. Probably. Ignoring that, however, he just sat down upon his rock and cut up his lovely green apple to nibble upon. Green was his favorite. Red was gross. He'd eat it, but he wouldn't enjoy it. It was like a rape of the taste buds. Comepletely unacceptable in the ways of tastebud justice. He swung his small feet and closed his eyes, content and pleased and all of those lovely things as he sat upon his rock and ate his green apple, and took his time returning to his duties that awaited him back upon his ship. Ugh, duties...

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[aran]

Early morning greeted Aranyani like a light kiss to the eyelids, rousing him from his light sleep to the pale glow of the rising sun. He shucked the heavy bear-pelt blanket aside and stretched, smile plastered across his face before he even clambered to his feet – it was going to be a good day, he could tell. (He woke every morning much the same way, regardless of what actually transpired.)

His breath plumed out before him as he set to work packing camp; rolled up his blanket and made sure the fire was well and truly out before eating the last of his dried rabbit for breakfast. He was running low on salt and furs, and so had set out from his “home” about a week ago to hunt and trade, with no real worry about returning to the old abandoned shack to safeguard his goods. All he had stored was a few sets of hide armor and unfletched arrows – if someone passed by and took them, he would feel better for having helped out.

As it was, however, he needed food – and he was gaining on the herd of deer he’d been tracking. After taking a brief moment to re-tie his hair back out of his face, he slung his gear across his back and was off, smiling at the sun as it peaked over the distant mountains.

He followed the tracks for a good while – yes, these were fresh, pushed deep into the mud – before the sound of something moving along the road caught his attention. Though he usually preferred to avoid the road: Fewer animals to hunt, and he had been robbed more than once while taking the main road to Whiterun… he couldn’t help the interest the sound piqued, and he fell into a crouch, stowing his bow.

With a hint of concentration and slowly exhaled breath, he cast the flicker of a spell between cupped palms – detect life – and let it roil along his spine and blossom behind his eyes: The answering glow of something answered back from just over the hill, something small and certainly not the deer he was looking for.

He let the spell dissipate and headed forward nonetheless – whatever it was, it was either edible or a potential friend, and he could always catch the trail again later. Nothing great was ever found by the mer who did not explore (and he did so like making new friends). Not wanting to be caught off guard, however, for the spell had lied to him before -- showing him something roughly man-shaped that turned out to be a very angry, wounded bear -- he snuck up the rise, bow once again at the ready.

Peeking slowly around a thick, dew-wet pine, he knocked an arrow and-

Another elf! A smile bright enough to shame the sun broke his grim scowl of concentration and he all but ran down towards the road, slinging his bow across his back and scrambling up the boulder adjacent the stranger’s.

”Hello! Good morning, isn’t it? I’m Ara-“

He spotted a cluster of nightshade growing across the road, tucked under the shadow of a fallen tree and, introduction temporarily forgotten, bounded down from his perch and scurried across the road to fetch his prize. Grinning like a child, he plucked the flowers from the stem and pressed them into the satchel at his belt before returning – still grinning stupidly.

”I’m Aranyi. I hunt around here, mostly. Who are you?”

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