[Burning Mountains] Little Pleasures

The seven Duchies of Central Rynmere and their respective baronies, cities, towns, villages, and landmarks each overseen by a Duke of one of the seven noble families and ultimately controlled by the King of Rynmere.
Kes'Trel
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[Burning Mountains] Little Pleasures

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21st Ashan
Kes’trel didn’t know if she’d ever been so cold, or so hungry. If there had been a time it had been buried so far at the back of her mind, it was impossible to recall. Probably because it was a horrendous way to feel. Her arms and legs were stiff with it and still they trudged down and up and down and up. Malcolm guiding them through troughs of snow and steep valley slopes with his sights set on the Keep. She hated the mountain he was leading them to. Hated it with every piece of her soul and frozen piece of her anatomy. She cursed it beneath her breath with every step and put her energy into despising the place.
They climbed a final slope in the failing light and she dropped down. There was less snow beneath a thicket of pine threes, but the ground was covered in sharp needles. She massaged her toes through her soaking boots, wriggling them back and forth. Even if they had a way to make fire, she was certain the man wouldn’t risk the signal it would send to VII.
They would be furious. She wondered how many slaves would pay for her disloyalty. Would anyone be killed? Would they be tortured for information they didn’t know? Where had Kes’trel run to? The shiver that ran down her spine, was nothing to do with the chill weather or the frozen earth beneath her rump. The young woman pulled her legs up, wrapping her arms around them and watched her own breath crystallising on the wind.
It was then that she reached for the blanket. She hadn’t so much as checked that the man had stopped moving, but she wasn’t walking another step. The blanket unfurled to her feet and she let out a soft gasp of pleasure. The cheese. She’d forgotten the cheese. The young woman seized the knife and sliced it in two.
“Man,” she hissed through the darkness and offered him the yellow lump, waving it.
word count: 347
Malcolm
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[Burning Mountains] Little Pleasures

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He hadn't missed the soft footfalls of the slave as he continued to walk, numb to the pain and cold, his body on autopilot. One foot in front of the other, and though exhaustion had struck at least two hours before, somehow Malcolm was able to press on, it was a knights way.
Man. The word had stopped the warden and seen him crouch. He scanned the woods, finding it difficult to see in the dying light. What man, he wondered, and turned back to see the slave holding out a piece of cheese to him. Malcolm's stomach contracted painfully, reminding him that he was beyond hungry. He closed the gap between them in what felt like two big strides, and took the cheese, making sure she too had a piece before he downed the yellow lump. The man had never looked so satisfied with a meal as he was that sliver of cheese.
“Thank you,” he said.
Gathering that they would not be making anymore ground tonight, Malcolm took the spade and began shovelling earth away from the edge of the mountain. He cut out a half pipe in the frozen earth, and gathered as many fresh pine needles as he could, filling the hole until it had formed a makeshift, springy bed that looked more like a failed bird's nest than anything else. Still, he thought, it would keep them off the dirt, and below the wind that swept across the mountains every now and then.
It was freezing, but Malcolm could handle this kind of cold, it was the wet kind of freezing he despised. This crisp, dry air would make their bodies work harder to stay warm, especially standing still, but it could have been worse… it could have been raining.
Malcolm put his blanket down on top of the needles and took off his boots and socks. A crazy decision perhaps, but a necessary one. His heels were cut and sore, and his socks and boots needed drying out. He put the bread aside on the snow, thinking that maybe if it went stiff and frozen overnight, by lunch the following day it might be soft and edible, soggy, but edible.
“Come,” he encouraged the slave with a wave of his hand. Despite the newness of their forced bond, they still needed each other if they were going to survive this, her more than him. Malcolm's blood gave him an advantage in that he was naturally warmer than most, but she had the second blanket, something he needed. “We have to rest if we are going to make it to the keep tomorrow. Come.”
Last edited by Malcolm on Tue Oct 08, 2019 9:42 pm, edited 1 time in total. word count: 443
Kes'Trel
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[Burning Mountains] Little Pleasures

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He approached like a starving wolf and his portion was devoured. It made her smile, sadistic that he was as hungry as she. He had been better at hiding his misery perhaps. At least the man seemed to be content with their camp for the night. She watched him without moving as he dug his pit. A grave perhaps? Would he killed now she was of no use? The girl watched his expression for a sign of betrayal, fingers curling around the knife, hidden beneath the blanket. Then he lined the pit with the needles scooped from the dirt and laid his blanket down. Curious she edged closer, moving like a half-starved creature across the brush. She felt like an animal, with all the comforts of humanity stripped away.

He beckoned her towards the pit and the young woman sighed. Yet she crawled in and left her blanket in his reach. It was a sound idea. Some warmth would be better than none at all. Kes could hear an owl hooting in the distance, the scurry of small mammals creaping out to find their own dinner, the few crumbs of cheese that had fallen from her lips. The slave waited til the man seemed settled before she spoke.

"Name?" She edged around, turning to face him beneath the blanket. Who had led her on such a wild run from the only life she could remember now. Who was he? She pointed a pale finger at herself.

"Kes'Trel, no Vesper." She had hated the name as much as she hated the line of brands on her skin. "No slave," she warned him. She had not traded one prison for another.
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Malcolm
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[Burning Mountains] Little Pleasures

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“No slave,” he assured her, uncertain if a name would change anything. Giving a name meant that he had accepted hope where he felt there was very little.
Malcolm fixed the woman's blankets over them, and folded the end between his feet in an attempt to warm them up. He put one arm under her head, and the other over her side before binding his fingers, pressing his chest to her back.
“Malcolm,” he said after some pause, listening to the night. He didn't know how advanced her common was, but offered up his profession all the same. “I'm a knight of the Iron Hand.” He was much more than that, in fact he could count himself a lord, but had chose not to take the title yet, but until he felt he had earned it… and with Qe'dreki still at large, he was determined not to take retirement until they were defeated.
It wasn't just the cold they had to contend with, but all things large and small that made use of the mountain. Malcolm remained quiet, not trying to make conversation if there wasn't any it be had. He just hoped they wouldn't have any trouble with the local wildlife.
Last edited by Malcolm on Tue Oct 08, 2019 9:42 pm, edited 1 time in total. word count: 209
Kes'Trel
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[Burning Mountains] Little Pleasures

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His agreement was enough to see some of the tension ease and she bowed. Wriggling on the needles in order get comfortable. Or more comfortable, as true comfort would be impossible to find. Her eyebrows felt as though they were freezing, so she curled up the blanket moving over her head as she hid from the ice on the wind. The man was almost warm though.
“Malcolm,” she repeated the name to herself, murmuring it, “Mal-come.” She tested the syllables before settling once more. Then spoke it silent in her mind. Knight? She knew the word Knight, it was often followed by a lot of swearing in the fort. Another smile spread across her features. Freedom. He had said they were heading towards a keep, what then? The young woman hadn’t seen much more of Rynmere than the docks and then the mountain. How far was she from Desnind? It was a long time since she’d risked thinking of home, but now…was it something in reach? A dream she could have once more?
His heart was beating against her back and she was very aware of the way his chest pressed against her spine. His legs against her buttocks and feet tangled. She had been trained towards receptiveness towards her master and it was hard to ignore the masculine body behind her. Her limbs ached and yet the ground was hard and sleep eluded her. The young woman twisted once more to face the man. Her gaze moved over his features. The long nose and fierce brows. There was one sure way that they would both find warmth, and exhaustion enough to knock them out. Kes’trel edged forward and felt his breath tickle her face.
“Freedom,” she whispered and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. Freedom to choose.
word count: 304
Malcolm
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[Burning Mountains] Little Pleasures

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He hadn't fallen asleep, but existed somewhere between sleep and consciousness, his thoughts loud, eyes closed. Kes’trel had turned in the man's arms, and Malcolm shifted his hip off what felt like a knot in the needles beneath the blanket. The woman had murmured something, and teased from his daze with a kiss, Malcolm opened his eyes. The gesture hadn't sent jolts of electricity through him like Elyna’s kisses did, but a kiss was a kiss.
Malcolm froze, only this time it wasn't due to the cold, but the heat. His hands grew sweaty and innards felt as if they were full of sand, making him heavy. He didn't know if the woman expected him to respond, and so he gave her the only response he was willing to.
“Thank you,” he muttered in the dark, and shuffled onto his back so that she might understand that he wasn't interested.
Last edited by Malcolm on Tue Oct 08, 2019 9:42 pm, edited 1 time in total. word count: 158
Kes'Trel
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[Burning Mountains] Little Pleasures

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It seemed as though heat rose from the man, but he made no response. Except to tense beside her. Was it fear that came off him in waves? A slow smile stole across the woman's features as she realised that she had gained a modicum of power over the man. Even if he was unwilling to admit it.

Thank you, he said and she sank down on her side, curling up beside him.

"Thank you," she repeated his words but reached out, smoothing her fingers over his flat torso, down the base of his shirt before withdrawing. It was then that she rolled onto her otherside and set her back to him. Allowing him to understand the depth of her gratitude. She had been trained in a brothal. Intimacy was intimacy and she was pleased with her sudden gift to chose who to reward with it. She had been pleasing to Veron and the men he had shared her with. So had little doubt that she might be pleasing to this man also. Unless he preferred men, then there was little she could do to become more appealing. She shuffled in the bed of needles and let out a sigh. Hoping that sleep would come on swift wings and take her away from the cold, hard ground.
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Malcolm
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[Burning Mountains] Little Pleasures

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Kes’trel thanked him and twisted on the bed again to get comfortable. Malcolm relaxed instantly, it seemed she had understood, or perhaps he had merely misinterpreted the gesture. It took him a while to warm to the fact that he would be safe to embrace her once more, out of survival, but to re-establish the closeness took some consideration on Malcolm's part. He turned on his side once he was comfortable to do so, and lay a heavy arm over Kes’trel’s side.
Now it seemed impossible not to let his mind wander, and thoughts reined in were marked with the clearing of his throat. Malcolm was forced to put distance between them in order to save face. He filled the gap between their bodies with the blanket, and willed his beating heart to cease. How was he ever going to get to sleep now?
“What language?” He inquired, but didn't know if he wanted to know more.
Last edited by Malcolm on Tue Oct 08, 2019 9:43 pm, edited 1 time in total. word count: 163
Kes'Trel
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[Burning Mountains] Little Pleasures

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With the weight of his arm across her side, the woman had started to drift closer to dreaming. Warmer than she’d been all day, she curled up, cocooned beneath the blankets. Their breath still turned to streams of silver mist before vanishing into the night. The next morning was going to be worse, painful even, to wake to. The slave hated sleeping on the ground. She wondered if her Sev’ryn ancestors would mock her and think that she was soft. With the potential to return home, her mind began to wander. There was warmth in the desert and freezing cold too. Malcolm shifted behind her and rolled, fussing with the blankets and she sighed, stirred from the pull of slumber.
His words tickled the back of her neck. Language? She searched for the word but it wasn’t one heard often. Veron had kept his instructions simple. The other men hadn’t cared to speak, gestures communicated enough. Their demands had been clear. Language. It was a strange word and she frowned in the darkness. “Common Language,” she muttered to herself. Veron had shouted it. Speak the common language!
“Xanthea, Sev’ryn,” she explained. A pine needle poked the skin beneath her eye and she rolled onto her back. Her shoulder pressing against his chest in the narrow pit. Her other arm squeezed between the compacted dirt and the blanket.
“Erè ies av ipin äpäu tsäkär sev jasi Skepek.” The words sounded strange on her own tongue. It wasn’t a skill that she had practised in the recent arcs.
word count: 265
Malcolm
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[Burning Mountains] Little Pleasures

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The stars were bright tonight, and Malcolm couldn't help but think it should mean something. Kes’trel spoke, revealing her language as Xanthea, one Malcolm knew little about. As she conversed in her native tongue, a low pitched ringing in the man's ears stole him away. These trances were often subtle, taking him by surprise. It began with the quickening of his heart, and ended with an invisible weight that pinned him to the bed of needles. He had been searching for her, but once again it had been Elyna's heart that had called to him.
Malcolm sat up and clawed his way out of the bed, through the snow to sit on his knees, arched forwards with his hands against the cold earth and his head bowed. She was alive, but the relief of finally knowing was quickly swallowed up by the vision of her sharing a kiss with another man, one she had indulged before.
His stomach wanted to reject the little food he had consumed, and his lungs refused to take in air. Malcolm's heart hurt, as if someone had taken hold with two hands and squeezed. His mouth fell open as he gasped like a fish, ending the trance and blocking her out in order to breathe. He stole a shaky breath and tried to stand, but was grounded by the weight.
She's alive, he tried to console himself with the knowledge, and for a moment, it was enough.
Nearby, the rustling of blankets and pine needles reminded him that he was not alone. Malcolm turned to Kes’trel and made his way back to the bed. “I'm sorry, I thought I heard something,” he lied.
He lay down, but the pain remained, that dull weight, that swelling tenderness in his chest he couldn't quiet. Hopefully sleep would undo what his mind could not erase.
Last edited by Malcolm on Tue Oct 08, 2019 9:43 pm, edited 1 time in total. word count: 316
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