Winter Camping

The woods are filled with a low-lying mist that makes it hard to see more than a few feet in any direction. The quickening dimness of the dying day doesn't help either. It's still early in the day but here in the woods, in the midst of early winter? The light is hard to find. In the middle of nowhere, there is a pair of men setting up a campsite. One of them is a man in black armor, with dark hair and irritated purple eyes. He doesn't look like the sort to be camping out, particularly not with the huge black blade attached to his back, but he is currently sitting on the ground trying valiantly to get a fire started to little avail.

A kind of thin man wore a thicker than usual woolen shirt. His dark brown short hair was a mess as if he'd just left his bed, he sat on a conveniently placed rock just staring with his deep dark blue eyes at the armored man who dragged him into this. It was a shame, he'd thought for sure his boss wouldn't let him have the time off alas he was wrong and now he's here with? Him. He kept himself quiet, wordless most of the time he was speechless anyways, not unless he was working then he had to speak.

There's a sound that pervades the mist. It's unmistakable for the rattle of armor and weapons. Clank. Clank. Clank. It's getting closer. The mist swirls from displacement. A figure, massive and looming, breaks the edge of camp. Fresh bandages dangle from shiny silver scaled flesh. A fanged visage piercing through with a dead gaze. A weapon in hand. A halberd. Shiny like them.

What an imposing figu- >crack< A large foot stepped on a log.

"Buh? What the- firewo- oh, hello...!" they greet awkwardly in a deep, tired rumble, squinting through the mist. "Thisss one did not sssee a camp here. They apologize."

Aragos, the man with purple eyes, is on his feet in an instant. Surprisingly fast for a man in armor actually, but he wears it like he's used to the stuff. Like it's a second skin. Once on his feet his hand inches toward his sword. In fact, the sith-makar's presence doesn't relax him a single iota. He looks at the other suspiciously, his bearing that of someone willing to fight should it come down to it. "It's foggy." He defers, waving his other hand somewhat dismissively. "Are we too close to Mictlan? If not, you're welcome to share our fi-"

He glances down at the pile of wood that has so far refused to light. "Our camp."

His eyes left the man to get a look at the other, well armored person, still he stayed quiet, He'll let the man with him do the talking after all it's easier that way. Though he couldn't help but let his eyes wander to the bold weaponry, certainly shiny, though if this person is well covered and with the tool to protect them they must be tired from a heavy fight to have the need for the bandage.

The sudden reactions garners a flat-flooted blink from the makari. A reflexive hand held up to show its emptiness, as the other one holding onto the reflective polearm slowly releases it. The weapon leans aside until it rests upon a tree. "Peassse," they rumble in a hiss. "No, Mictlan isss sssome hoursss away. Cold nightsss and bad weather meansss danger for thossse in the woodsss. Thisss one walksss it to make sssure none are stranded."

The offer gets a warm rumble to echo from them. "Thisss one will accept your offer!" the shiny silverscale intones, stepping once into the camp and kneeling down. "Thisss one isss Warrior Ssskielstregar." A glance to the two men, a bandaged hand waves from the hip to the silent, unarmored individual. "Would you like for thisss one to start a flame? It isss chilly for sssoftssskinsss this time of year."

It takes Aragos longer to realize that Skielstregar is bandaged than it does Daniel. On alert for a fight, he was a bit slow to notice other things. He relaxes somewhat as the sith indicates that he is not looking for a fight, but still takes a step back from the pile of sticks that should be a fire when the other approaches it. "That's my son Daniel, and I'm Aragos. Good fortune that we've meet you it seems." He mutters something under his breath about the fire, and eyes the younger man who has been introduced as his son, but quickly turns his attention back to the sith. "Are you wounded Skielstregar? Has there been trouble?"

He shifted himself away from the newcomer out of trying to give more space as well as not doing the best socially. His face scrunched slightly as being addressed as Aragos's son, but after all it couldn't be avoided. He attempted to fix the folds of his shirt, failed but he'd tried. He turned his gaze down to meet the view of his feet, and the dirt below them there he left himself to lose himself in thoughts. He folded his hands together letting his fingers intertwine with each other, another way to keep to himself.

Skiel chuffs, his maw pulling back to reveal a wicked set of fanged teeth. They're smiling! "Pleassssed to meet you and peace on your nessst, Argos and Daniel!" Afforded some distance, the burly sith scooches forth, rummaging around on one of the pouches on their bandolier as they produce a tinderbox. A hand reaches towards a handaxe on his belt.

A finger is held up, as if giving a warning, then Skiel grabs one of the sticks and pulls free the weapon, starting to shave off tinder. The question makes them sigh quietly. A puff of frozen air spills from his nose. "Ah. Erm. Yesss. Thisss one isss recovering. But the trouble isss dozensss if not hundredsss of leaguesss away. Thisss one will be fine."

A look between son and father. "If thisss one may assssk. Erm, why are you two out here?"

Aragos doesn't correct the misspeach in his name, more focused on watching the other than he is caring about whether his name is said the right way or not. He is silently appreciative of the warning before the weapon is drawn, whether it's used for shaving tinder or not. In fact it causes him to relax a little further and after some reassurance that the other doesn't need healing Aragos decides to answer Skielstregar's question. "We're making up for lost time, trying to spend some time together. It might seem a bit foolish given the weather, but we've got plenty of cold-weather gear to keep us warm and..."

He sighs and looks at Daniel. "I'm not much of a woodsman but... Doing something besides hanging out at a bar sounded like a good idea."

Daniel's view doesn't change, it stays the same. Though upon hearing the question his eyes narrow slightly he scoffed humorously. After letting Aragos the time to speak he looks up at him holding a rather blank expression. He muttered under his breath a few words. "You. You're making up for lost time, I'm just letting you." Daniel rubbed the back of his neck and slightly warmed it. He put his hands back together along with his glace, back to the ground, back to ignoring Aragos.

Metal quietly clanks and slides behind Skiel as he works, his armored tail lazily rolling from side to side. The stick is turned into shavings. Other sticks are piled around in a small teepee, and the tail nudges the log from earlier to roll towards him as he gets it nestled into it all. Flint and steel from the box is produced.

It doesn't strike just yet, him slowly panning his dead gaze from Aragos to Daniel. To Aragos. Back to Daniel.

Snick. Flash. Fire.

"... did thisss one step into a nessst dissspute...?" he wonders aloud.

There's a quick, disapproving look at Daniel from Aragos, but the man doesn't dispute the words. Instead he seems somewhat disheartened by them. He keeps the bulk of his attention on the sith-makar. "No. Not exactly. It's... complicated." It really is. He sighs and his bearing lightens as the fire burns to life. "Besides, we owe you for the fire."

He seems a bit begrudging to admit this last, but he stretches one hand toward the flames, covered though it is with a gauntlet. "We've some food, which we can warm now." It's an invitation to join them longer.

Daniel didn't bother to react to Agaros 'disapproving look', instead he continued his blank stare to the floor. Mind wandering the woods as he sat there still, nothing from him. He didn't care if Skielstregar where to stay or not, it didn't affect him in fact he didn't have to indulge Aragos alone, rather he's not the only one dealing with him. He almost smirked at the thought of a quote. 'The more the merrier.' For him, in this situation that was true, definitely meant he didn't need to be the one to start a conversation.

Skielstregar slowly turns his attention to the fire to stoke it, using a hand to waft more air into the flames. "Ah. Well, erm," he awkwardly searches for words. "That isss well, Argos. You needn't explain." Well intentioned, even with the name mistake! But it's clear Trade isn't his first tongue.

"But, certainly, thisss one can have a snack if you are offering!" Skiel settles in, his halberd left leaning up against the tree behind him. Though, his attention rests on Daniel and his quiet mannerisms. Sometimes some people didn't like talking. That's okay! He could do the talking for both of them! The shiny makari perks up, filled with a purpose, however small. "Thisss one isss from Am'shere. Where are you two from?"

Aragos offers a quick nod to Skiel, being at least marginally more welcoming than his son. He searches briefly through their bags before coming up with the food in question. It's food that'll cook easily and without much attention paid to it, since Aragos doesn't have much experience with cooking. He sets it to the fire and then settles down nearby the flames comfortably. "Dran. Near the Vast." His purple eyes get a far-away expression. "I haven't been there in years."

His hands dropped to the sides of the rock he sat on and shifted himself to look more approachable. "Pff, I don't even remember what it's called, Just-the woods I guess." Daniel faced the two men in front of him, he might as well talk to the guest of the camp-if you could call it that. It shouldn't be hard after all he just has to think of it as another day working at the bar, just keep the customers entertained, smile and don't. Fall. Asleep. That part is crucial.

Skiel taps his chin. "Dran..." he repeats, thinking aloud. A talon traces the air, as if following a map.

The talon gets lost in the air. "Thisss one doesss not think they have been there. Maybe passed through the Vasssst, but not to Dran. What isss it like?" A glance to Daniel. "Jussst woodsss? That isss hard to imagine, but Am'shere isss mossstly nothing but jungle, ssso there mussst be places like that."

Aragos shakes his head, looking at Daniel with a mixture of fondness and disbelief. "It's not all forest, but where we lived it was. He was young when we lived there. It's got a lot of different kind of places. I'd actually say it's mostly plains." The armored man watches the flames of the fire that Skiel started. "I admit I don't know much about Am'shere, but I had heard that. That it's largely jungle. Must make the winter strange for you Sith-makar. Have you seen the snow yet?"

He rolled his eyes at Agaros; he sighed heavily and mumbled quieter this time almost like he didn't want to be heard by either of them. "I wasn't talking about when I lived with you and 'her'...I meant after." Daniel brushed back his hair with his hand and rubbed his eyes tired. Though he paid attention to Aragos's question, he was rather interested in hearing about Am'Shere.

Snow? Was the towering, imposing silverscale asked about snow?

What's that clanking noise? Oh. His armored tail picked up speed.

"Thisss one lovesss the ssssnow," he enthuses quietly. "Am'shere isss always hot and sticky. The heat isss nice in itsss own way. Many junglesss. Volcanoes. Large, angry riversss. The land'sss heartbeat is much more loud than here. And the seasssonsss are much more sssubtle. There isss no winter there. But sssnow isss wonderful. Thisss one greatly enjoysss the winter."

Says the walking ice cube.

The large lizardman shifts slightly to listen to Daniel's comments, the Dragonfather symbol on his breastplate giving a quiet 'clink' from the motion. "... thisss one seesss. Perhapssss that isss why it isss called the Vasssst? Because it issss /plain/ to ssssee?"

Either his jokes are terrible or the awkwardness of the tension is making him pull out the big swords. Or both. He probably is just terrible at jokes. Despite that, he seems pleased with his punmenship.

The black-armored man seems amused by both Skiel's enthusiasm for the snow, and he actually cracks a small smile. "With the weather the way it's been we should be getting some soon. I've never seen someone so enthusiastic for it, but I suppose when you grow up without..." He rolls his shoulders in a shrug and pulls the food off the fire. "Here."

There's a brief interlude in which he hands out food to Skiel and to his son, taking a bit for himself as well and trying it. It's not bad.

He was aware of the humor given, though to him it had little to no effect on him. Daniel hesitantly accepted the food, however he waited for both of them to finish before he started, whether it meant it was going to be cold or not. As he eats he couldn't help but be just in the slightest thankful. It had been awhile since he's had a meal he didn't prepare himself. "The snow is certainly pleasant." He reached his hand out to the fire for the warmth, and there he began to stare off into the flames.

Skiel bobs his head. "Imagine the relief you feel ssstepping into a warm bath. That isss what winter feelsss like for thisss one." The food is taken with an appreciative murmble of a 'thank you' before-

Chomp.

It's all gone!

Wiping his maw off with the back of a bandaged hand, his gaze lingers on Daniel. Something felt off. But the disconnect between softskins and makari was there, and it made it hard for Skiel to pin down what was going on. Perhaps the fire would warm the tension as the night settles in. "It really isss. But! If you wisssh to sssleep in the woodsss, keep the fire going and sleep under a tree! If it sssnows, it won't be asss bad!" he elucidates. "And if you go the way thisss one came, you will find a trail. Take a right, and follow it. It will lead you back to the Pointe!"

He slowly rises to his feet. "Thisss one thanksss you both for the company and the meal, however, they mussst return to patrolling the woodsss," he rumbles warmly. "They hope the night will provide succor."

-End