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Post by Cyran Fenastra-Asiliari on Nov 27, 2023 18:02:04 GMT -5
Hearthside was a quaint place. Being on the outskirts of the Ash Lands, Dragon’s Cradle had been spared no destruction in the fallout from the volcano’s explosion and Vulcadreus’s subsequent death. The entire realm was in a state of panic, it felt. Hydras and Bogaboos were tearing the Marsh Flats apart. Darkveil was… well, in an upheaval was putting things delicately. And for once in his life, Cyran was taking a different kind of stance in the political fallout of the world’s wreckage. The now-retired assassin set his hammer to rest against the dusty ground, wiping a bead of sweat off his brow. He’d long since stripped himself of his jacket, leaving it secured to the saddlebag of Nightmare on the outskirts of the construction zone. The mare grazed lazily along a few blades of grass that had grown through the cracks in the arid ground next to Bespoke Horse, who was similarly outfitted to carry Del’s belongings. They were not the only mounts that had been sequestered to the makeshift stable of sorts, but most were beasts of burden, donkeys and yak and such, that were taking a break from pulling carts of supplies to the makeshift village. Hearthside was a work in progress from all volunteers who had gathered together to make something for once. And the bones of the village were alive with activity. Construction crews laid down brick and mortar homes strong enough to weather the region’s violent storms. Architects studied plans to make sure everything was being put together according to plan and that Hearthside had all the amenities needed to account for the influx of refugees that would be residing here. Diggers built wells; druids built vegetable gardens; natives all made sure that everything was being outfitted with special storm doors and underground hatches for the most violent of hurricanes. Work was busy, but not harried. Relaxed enough that Cyran was able to pause in his work and reach for his leather skin, taking a sip of water. At least his naturally cold disposition protected him from the worst of the heat. The magic did not protect him from his own frustrations, though. Cyran considered himself a patient man - he had to be, given all of his centuries, and the nature of his old profession. A killer had to be tranquil, willing to play the long game, all to wait for a victim to make a mistake. He was quickly learning, though, that did not always extend to other trades. Namely, fence-building. Oh, he was doing his best. Cyran had helped repair fences in the past, but building one was an entirely different beast. It was the only task he’d been allowed to handle when the overseers realized that he was little more help than an extra pair of hands. No physical strength and no experience, and despite his natural dexterity, within minutes of holding a hammer and nails in his hands he was more of a hazard than a boon. When Del had been whisked away to perform heavy lifting and contribute her carpentry skills wherever they were needed, Cyran had been relegated to a corner, building fences that would eventually be used for building livestock. He was doing his damnedest not to feel frustrated, truly. But with every missed nail and every splinter and scrape and sore muscle from holding things, it was difficult for him not to grow… demoralized at his lack of progress. Perhaps it would be best for him to take a break, after all. It was not like anyone would be missing his labor. Cyran took another sip of his water, and after a moment’s thought, poured some over the top of his head just to cool himself down. Well, there was no use being too upset about what he could not do. He’d spent far too long in the recent weeks being upset about things he’d done and the things he couldn’t take back. He stared down at the ring on his finger, a small smile on his face. Well. He didn’t regret everything. After all, he would take all the frustration in the world if it meant Del got to be satisfied doing something she was skilled in and enjoyed. Quite done with moping for the day, the ex-assassin stood and brushed dirt and dust off of his tunic. The weather was still, a rarity in these parts - they had to take advantage of this calm to get as much done as they could before adverse weather prevented them from working. It was a touch hotter than most would have liked, but their pace was unhurried, as they were making good progress. A few were even taking breaks and enjoying meals around a pot at a distance. It probably would not hurt for him to take a small break and head off in search of his wife - Er, fiance. He was still getting so excited for the concept of marriage that he was perhaps overeager at this point. It was just… a novel concept, to say the word and be genuinely happy to be wed. He shoved his hand in his pocket and left his project behind, setting out in search of wherever Del was working.
Quest Name: Hearth and Home Participants: Two or more Location: Dragon's Cradle, (Hearthside Village) Post Requirements: 4 post per person, 200 words per post Reward: +1 Renown Description: A new village is being constructed on the border between Dragon's Cradle and Zeinav and the region is in need of helping hands. Due to the increased flow of people fleeing the Ash Lands, Dragon's Cradle has become a hub for refugees and has decided to put their resources to good use, building a new village to further increase the region's economy and social standing with their neighbors to the south. An open call has been issued to anyone who would like to help out. Things like constructing buildings, stables or fences, the digging of trenches or wells and collecting supplies like lumber or food are all task that are in need of assistance. Whatever you have to offer, Hearthside Village will accept!
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Post by Delaela Fenastra-Asiliari on Dec 31, 2023 12:14:23 GMT -5
Del stands back, frowning in thought as she scrutinizes the structure she is in the process of building. Houses are complex things, requiring a decent amount of well placed load bearing supports and a level, symmetrical structure, with enough windows and ventilation to make cooking and warmth a possibility in the cooler months. It had to be sturdy, but also light enough that the weight of the structure wouldn't create stress on the foundations. It also had to relatively match the structures around it, most of which were still in progress, in order to prevent crowding. Fire hazards and all that. Particularly in Dragon's Cradle. The house is in the framing stage, with the bottom set of interlocking logs along the base of the walls. It looks.... Uneven. At least to her eye. Though her measurements had been thoroughly double and triple checked, and checked again, Del stands, glowering furiously as though the structure has done her some personal offense at the mere perception that it is not even, and could not figure out why. It didn't help that she was uncomfortably warm here; being a natural furnace, increased heat and humidity was certainly aggravating. And, keeping an eye on that other village a ways South, where other, less peaceful refugees of Mount Drakholt were beginning to congregate. It was no secret that they posed a threat, but for the time being, the priority was building. Still, there was an immense satisfaction in the act of building. After all, this was the work she had done for the better part of the last fifty years, assisting communities with the things they could not afford to repair or build themselves, when she could. Being back on the road again with Cyran evoked those old feelings, though it felt so much better with him at her side; society at large was hell to deal with on your own, and he made it so much better. In spite of her annoyance at the would-be house, her expression softens at the mere thought of her fiance. Meeting him in the town square in Darkveil, doing this very same thing, was truly the best thing to happen to her. So much of the world had changed in that time, turning their lives upside down more than once. Being here in Hearthside Village was indicative of that, too; in order to keep Cyran safe, to give them some time to find a solution, they had to depart town for a while. There was much to do in the areas surrounding Darkveil, though, and giving people a home was something she and Cyran both valued. It gave them something productive to do, too, deviate the focus of worrying into actively helping others.
More importantly, she still had a home; Cyran. No matter how far they were from Shades Valley, Del had never felt so comfortable on the road as she did with him. For as harrowing as their current situation was, she would not trade it for anything in the world. Instinctually, she lifts her gaze as Cyran approaches. No one else nearby spots his approach, as much of a ghost he still is when he so chose, but for their connection, bound to one another as they are, she can sense his proximity the way she could feel a cool breeze on her skin. Greeting him with a wide smile, she sets down her tools for a moment and bridges the rest of the gap between them, so they could speak more comfortably. "Well, hello handsome." she smiles, reaching out to brush some shards of wood off the lapel of his tunic... and also discreetly check him over, while taking the excuse to be close. He was healed and feeling better, but Del could not help but fuss. And... tease him, just a little, in soft tones. "Did you come over to brighten my day with your wonderful presence?"
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Post by Cyran Fenastra-Asiliari on Jan 7, 2024 11:42:37 GMT -5
Nobody spared a second glance for the waif of a man who traipsed through the partially constructed village - which suited Cyran just fine. It gave him a good opportunity to assess his surroundings without being disturbed. A few foremen had taken up a temporary camp of sorts towards the edge of Hearthside’s borders, and he knew that some scouts were patrolling even further out, beyond the scope of his vision.[1] Searching for any sign of something that might impede their progress. Storms, wild animals… even bandits. At the first sign of anything wrong, they would alert the foremen, who would immediately alert the volunteers to take cover until the threat passed. It was a sound enough system, he thought. For someone who’d rarely spent extended time in Dragon’s Cradle save when he was passing through, it looked like they had developed a sound system for dealing with the harsh conditions of the storm-ridden arid plains. And if the threat turned out to be bandits…
He put a stop to that line of thinking before it could blossom. Cyran was here as a civilian, a volunteer. He was not here as the silent blade to dispatch problems as they arose. He was here to build fences. It was a task he was utterly and gloriously failing at, but one he would gladly put effort to all the same.
You said the same thing when you first tried to live an honest life,, the small, venomous whisper reminded him, unbidden. And look what happened to you then.
He did remember. A freshly exiled noble, who’d held not just but a quill and ledger in his life, armed with a dagger and not-yet-dimmed hope. He’d gone through the whole song and dance of picking up odd jobs wherever he could find them… a missing dog here, a day of heavy lifting there. All tasks he’d failed miserably at, his lack of experience evident in every task he undertook. Each job, worse than he left it… until the one that ended in blood.
That had been his first success.
Of course he remembered. The loneliness and the soul-aching doubt, and the cold acceptance that he was better off honing what he was good at. And now, he was embarking on that vulnerable journey again, the fool, thinking things might be different. But they were different. Cyran was not alone - there were people who loved him, people who caught him when he stumbled and would guide him until he could walk on his own. Even amidst the sea of insecurities, he knew, in his heart of hearts, that Del wouldn’t let him walk alone this time.
The thought eased him as he made his way through nameless faces and strangers to the house she’d been working on. Her. Even amongst thousands of strangers, through the noise and cacophony of endless beings, his soul would still be able to connect with hers. And before he even approached her, she turned around and greeted him with a smile whose warmth could rival the fire of a hearth. For a moment, he startled - unused to being perceived, to being known - but the gut reaction only lasted a second, because out of anyone in this world, Del was the one he would always see through the inscrutable shadows. And out of anyone in this world, there was no one else he’d rather have see him back.
She set her tools down as he approached, standing to her full height. She brushed off some dirt and debris from his cloak at the same time he moved to press a kiss to her forehead and remove a chunk of wood from her curls. Domestic.
The greeting earned a startled laugh from him. “Handsome? Such flattery from the gorgeous woman in front of me.” He grinned, though there was warmth in his visible eye. “Sweaty is more like it. It’s rather hot here… are you managing okay?” If she was overheating, it didn’t show on her face. She looked right at home amongst the structural beams and the dust from construction, as if she hadn’t even broken a sweat or overexerted herself. And she was in good spirits, which Cyran was endlessly grateful for - good enough spirits to tease him a little, which made his face turn a fine shade of crimson.
“Me? Brighten your day?” He stammered, grasping at threads with which to tease her back. “Why, on the contrary, I’ve been working so hard that… I’ve come for my daily dose of Del…”
He wrapped his arms around her waist, resting his chin on her shoulder, letting out a contented sigh. “Ah, that’s better. I feel my energy replenishing already.” He didn’t want to monopolize her time for long, but… maybe it was okay to be selfish for just a second.
“The truth is I’m very bad at building fences, as it turns out. So I thought I’d come watch the master at work, absorb your genius through observation.” He peeked over her shoulder, craning his neck to get a better look at the house she was working on. “What are you doing here?”
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Post by Delaela Fenastra-Asiliari on Feb 7, 2024 3:06:21 GMT -5
She leans into the greeting kiss Cyran presses to her cheek, closing her eyes to absorb that moment of bliss and turn it inward. His fingers pluck a coiled wood shaving from amidst her curls, a silent reply to the attention she had likewise showered on him. A mutual care and understanding, an automatic tending to one another because, oh, how much they mattered.
A trail of little giggles fall from her lips as Del blushes furiously. Gorgeous. Her husband was so generous with his compliments, but he never ceased to turn her into a girlish, flustered mess with a few careful words.
Ah... Fiance.
"Dewy with effort. That explains why you're practically aglow, then," Del teases, though, again, delighting in his attentions. Checking in, making sure she was alright, knowing how excess heat had a tendency to bother her. She nods an agreement, "It is warm. Sweltering here, compared with the Ash Lands. I am hanging in there, though I've been careful to take breaks and draining the waterskin every chance I get."
Much as she preens, feeling her darling fiance would be pleased to hear that she was actually taking breaks to rehydrate of all things, Del finds herself even more delighted with herself to see the shades of red bloom across Cyran's high cheekbones. Though, he is just as quick with a rebuttal, leaning in to envelope her in his embrace while she emits another helpless giggle. "Me??" Allowing her arms to drape over his shoulders, Del turns her head to kiss Cyran's temple, laughing softly against his ear. She sways a little from foot to foot, relishing this closeness. "Far be it for me to deprive my favourite Rogue of anything," she murmurs, a more demure tease, though her amber eyes gleam with happiness.
Such stolen moments were more precious than gold.
When Cyran mentions his own struggles, Del chuffs gently, understanding the frustration. They were both perfectionists at heart, after all. "Building fences can be very tricky. And tedious. Though-- pfff!" She emits a surprised round of soft laughter at his compliment, pulling back just long enough to kiss the tip of Cyran's nose. "'Genius'! Now who's a flatterer? Though I suppose I need my dose of my wonderful Cyran as well?" Still smiling, Del turns in Cyran's arms so he could continue to hug her from behind. Overlaping his arms with hers, she squeezes them a little tighter around her middle, relishing in the contact of his cooler body against her own overwarm skin. Her head lists to one side, touching his temple again with hers as they look at the frame of the house-to-be. "Ah. This prescription works wonders."
As he asks about her task, Del scowls at the structure as though it has done a personal offense. "Right now I am completing the exterior walls so they can finish building the interior, but I'm having an issue myself." Del grumbles vaguely, before throwing a hand up in a general direction for a moment, as though to say all of this. "I'm trying to make it sit flat on the foundation, I made sure the ground was level and that I used the same amount of logs, but it's uneven/ if I keep going, one wall will end up riding higher than the other one. I can't for the life of me figure out what I'm missing."
Del turns her head again, blinking her eyelashes into the side of Cyran's cheek. "What about you, love? What about the fence are you frustrated with?"
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Post by Cyran Fenastra-Asiliari on Feb 15, 2024 8:21:44 GMT -5
That was certainly the first time someone had equated the effort of his failed labors to beauty, to dare insinuate that a disheveled man stained with dust and sweat and calloused hands with nothing to show for it might be worth comparing to a warm sun. It had not occurred to him that Del wouldn’t find it embarrassing he’d tried and failed, but rather, admirable that he put the effort in. Cyran’s smile practically hurt his cheeks while Del teased him. She tended to have that effect on his mood.
“It almost makes me wish for a small storm, just to bring some rain.” He joked, though the jest wasn’t spoken with much fervor. He glanced around at the unfinished buildings, structures that would be ravaged by the wind and rain.
… Best not, then. They’d just have to settle for keeping cool the old-fashioned way.
“... Though I might have a solution.” There was a ghost of a playful lilt to his words, a single warning before he reached up and placed his palms on her cheeks. His hands, as always, as cold as if they’d just been dipped in ice. Not an unbearable temperature, but a little shock to the system for someone who wasn’t expecting it. Just enough to tease Del a little, and make sure she wasn’t overheating. At her reaction he would take the opportunity to slide his arms around her, listening to her soft voice. He laughed as she pressed a kiss to his nose.
You know. Domestic.
“Well, you know what they say.” He couldn’t resist the urge to tease, burying his chin in the crook of her neck, squeezing her middle. “A spoonful of sugar helps the medicine go down.”
He fell silent while she spoke, surveying the site she was referring to. Cyran personally couldn’t see the difference in levels, but if Del said it was there, he believed her. That kind of discrepancy mattered when it came to building a hole. But if the ground was level, what could be causing it?
“It’s not sinking, is it?” Cyran muttered to himself. “Or is it operating like a see-saw? Where more weight on one side makes the ground pitch in one direction or the other?” Admittedly, he knew nothing about how to build a house - Cyran could only hazard a guess as to what might have possibly caused such an oddity. “Either way, I’ve never seen anything like it.”
He blushed when Del asked him about his own progress, partially in shame, and partially because her eyelashes tickled his cheek as she moved. He pointed towards the abandoned half-fence he’d left behind… though calling it a fence would be generous. It was a crooked post not properly secured in the earth, sagging where it couldn’t support itself upright. A lateral support beam was attached to the upright wood with far more nails than was necessary.
“That’s what happened with the fence I was frustrated with.” He muttered, unable to look at his mistake for very long. “It just keeps falling apart no matter what I do… and when I try to attach the horizontal beams they just keep falling. I tried setting up the vertical beams first, so they could support the horizontal ones… but how am I supposed to know how far apart to put them without putting up the horizontal ones?”
He groaned.
“It’s like… assembling a house of cards while racing against time. I have to keep building before it falls apart, but each second it just keeps crumbling, and I’m fighting to keep it together rather than making progress.” An awkward analogy, but an apt one.
It was hard to admit his deficiencies, but true. An elven lifespan was supposed to equip Cyran with the knowledge and experience to handle any kind of work life threw at him, and yet, all his centuries had equipped him with was an acute understanding of how the world worked. Of life and death and the cost of such things. It had left him with dainty hands he sullied with blood and scars, because it was easy, rather than taking the time to learn how to do such things.
He exhaled through his nose and turned his shame into an awkward laugh.
“I suppose I should have been assigned to other tasks I’m more adept with. But as it is… I’m a little bit lost.” He bit his lip. “I know how to break things. I don’t know how to fix them. Can I… just watch you for a little bit? To see how it works?”
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Post by Delaela Fenastra-Asiliari on Mar 19, 2024 13:54:52 GMT -5
"A storm would be nice about now," Del agrees, tilting her head thoughtfully skyward for a moment, just long enough to distract her while Cyran lifted his chilled hands to her cheeks. Gasping sharply at the unexpected shock, she exhales a stream of airy giggles, her own hands raising to cover his. It did feel better, but that was equal parts the chill and Cyran's wonderful touch. "That explains why you're so sweet, my dearest." she coos back at him.
Looking over her work, she nods along with Cyran's musings, echoing her own. "It's not sinking, near as I can tell; the root cellar beneath is well dug out and has a good foundation of bedrock not too far down. But then, the ground is still soft here, so who knows." she grumbles, irritated with herself. But, it seems, at least she is not alone in the lack of progression of things.
Glancing over her shoulder towards the beginnings of the fence, Del hums thoughtfully. Fence building was not an easy task, less so when the ground you were trying to work with wasn't cooperating. She had a few ideas that might help, but his sweet, tenative request to watch her for a little while, pushed the thought right out of her mind. They could chat on that later. She could feel through their connection his reluctance and regret seeping through the cracks of the soul-wound he bore. That was the most pressing thing.
"You fix plenty of things, love." she murmurs her assurance, smiling gently as she presses her cheek against his. "But I can't possibly pass up the chance to show off for you, even a little." Giving his arms one last squeeze, Del slips out of his embrace and towards the log cabin. Frowning again, she glowers at the work, hands on her hips while she walks around the perimeter. Same number of logs. Same theorhetical distance from top to bottom. No signs of depression into the soil around the ground... So why was it off?
Mulling over Cyran's words as she reaches toward a log to wiggle it and see if it was properly set. Operating like a see-saw, that was what he had said. It wasn't tilting, it was held fast, but...
"OH." She blinks, hit by epiphany. Turning, she looks to Cyran, smiling suddenly. "Love, would you mind coming over and standing on the lower log for me?" she pushes off the ground, clambering on top of the log that was, theorhetically, sitting higher than the opposite side. "I need to test something."
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Post by Cyran Fenastra-Asiliari on Mar 20, 2024 7:58:47 GMT -5
He had to blush and hold his tongue as his words were thrown back at him, his rhythm disrupted, because Del had decided to bring her A game today. It wasn’t that flirting was a competition, but Cyran was oh so new to… all of this, and banter was one of those delicate things he was still learning. And, he was learning - slowly but surely - how to breathe after each compliment served to knock the breath out of his lungs.
Still. That didn’t mean he was adept at responding to it.
“I - well - you… are impossibly smooth today. Flatterer.” He replied, taking a second to regather his composure; and yet, still unable to offer a proper rebuttal. Still finding himself quite embarrassed at how thoroughly she’d been able to rattle his composure with not but a couple of words, Cyran turned his attention to Del’s frustration with her own project. One much more advanced than his own - and it showed, for he had no idea how a root cellar might affect things at all, or why a bedrock foundation mattered.
He tilted his head to the side, curious. “It certainly doesn’t look like it’s sinking.” And a tentative pat on the ground with his boot told him that the ground didn’t feel soft, either.
As he purveyed the land, a cheek pressed against his and Cyran leaned his head against her, like coming home after a long and weary day. He managed a small shrug and stared down at his hands. Scarred, calloused from years of holding a leather grip, nails blackened by dark magic seeping into his bones with every shadow-spell he wove.
“I am not afraid to admit what I do not know.”
He turned to her with a small smile.
“When you learned the craft from Master Maruyama it was a long and arduous process. One that was not without its frustration. I know it does not come easy to you, and I have every reason to believe it will not come easy to me. But I will learn to fix what I can.”
He rested his free hand on Wraithsbane’s hilt.
“I am in your capable hands, now. The student becomes the master.” He finished with a spark of familiar dry humor, underlying gratitude running as deep as rivers that cut through the mountain. He leaned back as Del began to purvey her site, the gears already turning in her brain. She looked rather cute as she focused, as if the entire world had melted away and the only thing that mattered was the problem at hand…
Er, he was supposed to be focusing.
Her expression lit up as a thought occurred to her; she stood and pulled herself onto a log, turning to Cyran with the excitement of someone who’d just cracked a confusing puzzle.
Cyran nodded, not quite sure what he was doing but eager to help all the same. “Oh! Of course. Wait just a tick…” He clambered into the lower log, shifting his weight from foot to foot while he waited to see what was wrong with the house’s foundation…
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