morphicpools | (no subject)

Regular patrols in the wilderness of Elturgard outside the City are one of the duties Zevlor enjoys most. Within the city of Elturel, the Companion's light means no stars are visible at all, only the faintest hint of the moon as she crosses the sky, but now they're far enough away that a smattering of lights are visible against the deep blue overhead. In the distance to the North, the gleam of the Companion can be seen hanging in the sky, but its glow isn't overwhelming.

Their platoon consists of three seasoned Hellriders and a new recruit, who, in Zevlor's opinion, shows a great deal of promise. He has her build the fire for their nightly camp, and as it gets started, he steps away alone, into the thicket, to search for dry branches to add to the stack.

Thus, it's a lone man who stumbles across the stranger in the woods. Tall, horned, with a spade-tipped tail, he cuts an imposing figure, but he refrains from drawing his sword at the sound of someone approaching, simply standing alert at the sound of footsteps.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

It remains to be seen how he'll adjust. Kion at least seems comforted by Zevlor's presence, so it's not entirely out of the question that he might acclimate to living in Elturel, at least temporarily. The question though has him blinking briefly as he considers the options, brows furrowing slightly as he thinks.

"I... well I have experience helping with horses. And some smithing..." Not entirely surprising given he'd mentioned before that he was lined up to be apprenticed to the clan's craftmaster. "I'm good at tracking too, though I'm... not much of a fighter. S'why I wasn't slated to be a scout."

Or any sort of fighter, really. Even not knowing much about the young elf, Zevlor could likely peg that nervous demeanor as not being especially good in a combat situation.

"Smithing," Zevlor muses. Yes, he'd mentioned that. The problem there is that most smiths will want a fully bonded apprentice, and Zevlor, for one, isn't comfortable with that for this boy. They still have to at least try to find his way home. Still, the Hellrider Commander ought to be able to pull a string or two.

"I don't want you to be a fighter. I want you to be safe." Just because Zevlor has always been a scrapper, himself, doesn't mean he thinks everyone (or anyone else, really) should have to be.

"And I am absolutely not trying to press you into any particular type of work, but you'll be bored to tears if you're just hanging around the barracks all day with nothing to do."

Kion couldn't help but feel relieved that they seemed to be on the same page considering his potential fighting skill. And maybe a bit shamed too at that relief, but he shoved that emotion to the side the same as he did anytime it reared it's head.

And he understood well enough what Zevlor meant. Even timid and quiet as he was, the young elf knew he couldn't abide sitting still overlong. "I could always just... help in the stables for now and we can see what happens from there?"

If even a small clan like his was full of endless busywork and errands to be done every day, he could only guess that it was much the same, if not amplified, in a place with so many people.

"Let's start with that," Zevlor tells him gently, and reaches out to ruffle his hair. "And maybe I can get Dammon to teach you a little, without having to finagle a formal apprenticeship. He's barely a journeyman, himself, but he's a good lad."

"Hungry? I'm going to make myself some tea, I think, but I'm sure I have biscuits somewhere." He heads for the kitchen slowly. "So it seems you're my houseguest for the foreseeable future, and honestly I can't say I object to the company. I'll need you to keep in mind, my ultimate loyalty is to this city and her people, but I don't expect you to share that priority."

Kion can't help but huff at the muss of his hair, but it's more amused than anything. Not many in his clan were especially affectionate with him, though that was mostly down to his own withdrawn demeanor than anything, so the young elf was definitely enjoying the attention.

"That'd be nice... even just some time to keep what I've already learned fresh would be appreciated. I don't think Craftsmaster Neron would be pleased with me falling out of practice."

At the offer he nods his agreement- hardly a surprise, he was a growing boy yet, and atop that, was definitely smaller than he should be at his age. Like most boys, he was a bottomless pit for food when able to be. "It's alright, I understand. You've a duty to them, with or without my being here."

"Well, as long as you are here, you're under the protection of the city of Elturel, and therefore my protection," he says, almost gently.

No one will think twice about an elven boy in the city. The distinction of Dalish, the look of the valaslin, they'll just be accepted as some sort of wood-elf or druid enclave tradition. Still, it's going to be nerve-wracking at first, Zevlor's sure.

He leads Kion into the small kitchen of his quarters and lights the oven for tea. The amenities are simple, a woodstove, a pump for water, but fairly luxurious among Hellriders, and possibly a whole new world of convenience for Kion. There's a tin of cookies in the cabinet, and Zevlor gets it out, plus some dried fruit and nuts, and a slice of yellow cheese.

"Here, have as much as you like, only save me two of the cookies," he tells him with a smile.

While he's not sure how far that protection is able to go, Kion nods all the same. It's still reassuring for all it goes without saying that the young elf will be incredibly nervous around others, especially to start with. It's possible that time passing without any incidents might reassure him, but it's hard to say.

And the kitchen is definitely not the sort of convenience he's used to. He's seen similar, on the rare occasion his clan went near smaller farms to trade with amenable families here and there, but as small as both his birth and adoptive clans have been, their own setups even when staying in one place for long tend to be painfully spartan. They've only so many people to manage so many arenval, which means less space for luxuries. So he watches Zevlor move about with no small amount of interest, nodding with a shy little smile of his own at the teasing sort of invitation.

"I'll do my best." It's really hard to tell if how skinny he is is down to just the lankiness some children get during the end of a growth spurt, or just not getting enough, but he's not about to turn down the offer of a snack regaardless. But then that's fairly typical for most children in general.

Zevlor sets the plate in front of him and attends to making tea, trying to make a mental list of what needs to be done here. He'll have a lot of work to handle in the morning, reports and the like, but it would be wise to get the boy change of clothing or two. Even if he refuses to wear the shoes.

"I should show you around the city when I can...probably not until late tomorrow."

The cookies are thin and crunchy, effectively gingersnaps dusted with powdered sugar.

Getting Kion to wear shoes when there's not a real reason to? Definitely an exercise in futility. Probably for the best that Zevlor seems accepting of that little quirk in the elf.

"I'd like that." He agreed with a small nod. It'd feel a bit less harrowing to go around the first time with Zevlor rather than on his own. And while he clearly likes the cookies, he focuses first on the fruit, nuts, and cheese, though he's definitely making quick work of his plate in the process. Someone had definitely taught him some form of manners, but he'd also definitely spent enough time hungry to be quick about eating.

He may find he needs them--at least sandals--to make his way around cobbled streets, but Zevlor won't be the one to force the issue.

Once the tea is ready, he pours it out for them both and then sits across from Kion. Watching him eat, it occurs to him he's going to need to keep more food around. The boy is at exactly the right age to be a bottomless pit...and that reminds him of when his own brothers were younger. As a result, his gaze softens and goes a little distant with nostalgia.

"Good. I'm going to have to file reports first, so you may be on your own for a few hours, but I'll see what I can do to free myself up. Or sleep in, if you like!"

It's hard to say how much growing he has left to do. He's fairly small, but then there's not really an adult elf from back home to compare him to for estimation.

"I'll be alright on my own for a bit," Assuring Zevlor as he was busily munching on some of the cheese.
"There's books after all."

He wasn't sure how long books would hold his attention- as quiet as he was, he still got incredibly restless if he was expected to stay in one place for very long. Not that Zevlor knew that of course. But it would be okay surely.