43rd of Frost, 120
His clothes were amazing. He'd never worn anything tailor-fit to the awkward shape of his legs, or pants that he hadn't had to tear a hole through for his tail, but the heavily furred leathers that Corti had prepared for him were a perfect fit. Not one part of the fabric was too tight or loose. The furs were snug to his form, and the cloak of raven feathers she'd prepared for him helped cover up and warm his tail.
They looked good, too. The feathers helped to break up the shape of his form, and the heavy furs that decorated him kept the cold out and trapped all his precious heat inside. He had no doubt, given his past experiences, he could last at least half a day in the dead of frost with those clothes, at least before he had to warm himself again. He did have to wonder how the shape of the furs would fit his human form when he got it, however.
The Boydd kinship; a village of rathor that had opened their gates and homes to him in Northern Tyrclaid. He'd spent two whole days among them, talking and learning of his culture, sharing stories of Mornoth with them in turn. He had nothing brightening or happy to say about such a place but shared his fair share of horror stories in exchange for knowledge of his race, their culture, and their history.
As much as he found he enjoyed the company of other Rathor, it would not stay the darkened pit of his gut. He was hungry, and though he tried to suppress his urges, his body saw only food in his company. He had to find Fayeth.
They'd traveled to Tyrclaid together under the premise that she would help keep him fed while he spent time around his own kind and learned of their culture, but he'd not eaten in days. The Boydd offered him food, of course, but he'd turned it down by reminding them he was an ice-blood that didn't need to eat much. He'd already taken up enough of their livelihood and time just by existing, he couldn't bear to take their hard-earned fish, too.
With a bow of his head, he broke away from a conversation with Tifa, who was something called a pangolin, waved his farewells to the plate-armored beast, and proceeded to the woods at the edge of the land.
The path was iced over, of course, but there were still plenty of indicators to suggest the travel of heavy animals. He could see the spots in which claws had dug into the ice for grip and some patches where heavy tails had dragged through the snow. He eyed such markings curiously before he broke off the main path and wandered off into the snowy woodland. A glance over his shoulder confirmed he was alone before he disappeared into the trees.
"FAY!" he called as he cupped both his claws around his muzzle to help project his voice. The Cardinal was high on hearing, he knew she could hear him, wherever she was. The sounds of crunching snow sped up in the distance, and Arkashh closed his eyes to hone in on the sound. Someone was running; had he worried her? He opened his eyes then as the pale-skinned elf darted into the open with both her shortswords drawn.
Her brow furrowed on the rath, and her eyes formed a squint before she reflexively flicked both her blades to discard any blood that might have clung to the chrome, and promptly sheathed them. "I thought you were in trouble," spoke the Sil'Norai with a frown. "You look well, are they treating you well?" She softened her brow. She was happy to see him, he knew so.
Arkash nodded his head, then picked up his arm to show off his feathered cloak. "Look at 'iss, Fay," he spoke in common with barely-contained excitement. "The Tailor put i' togever for me; 'wus expensive but isn' i' cool?"
The dranoch laughed a breath and shook her head. With a step or two, she closed the gap between them and brought her hands to lower his furred coif, then hugged around his head with both arms. Arkash shut his eyes as he returned the embrace, and sighed in the comfort of her hold. "I missed you, you know?" She spoke with something of a wistful sigh, then let the rath go. "It's very stylish, Ark. I don't think I've seen anything of its kind before, but it matches your scales in a strange way."
Arkash looked up at her with his misty eyes and moved his claws to wrap her wrists while she held his shoulders. She'd been so warm to him since she'd turned him into a dranoch, and he'd felt equally fond of her in turn since then. He'd always held Asmodei and Fayeth with a higher degree of esteem, but Fayeth became especially important in his heart. "Thank 'ew," he returned with a smile and a bow of his head, only to be met with a stern look. "...I mean, uhh... Thank yew," he corrected.
The cardinal sighed, then let him go. "I swear, you're speaking vithmi for two days and you forget my common lessons," she shook her head playfully and smiled broadly. "Aren't you hungry? I've caught you some food," she declared with a nod. "It's an animal, but a strong one. I'm sure it'll hit the spot." With that, he followed after her to whatever animal she'd collected for him.
When they arrived at the location in question; a large cave on the side of a mountain, he found the carcass of a black bear. The thing had been dead for a day or two, he could smell, but the cold of Frost kept the meat fresh. Still, he was starving, and it was certainly a strong animal. He got down on his knees beside the beast and loomed over it to dig his claws into the meat in a way that wouldn't stain his furs with red.
There, he cut through and clawed the fur sever cuts of the meat, and fed himself the various chunks with meaty snaps of his jaws and hard gulps. Fayeth watched the display for a moment or two before she cleared her throat. Arkash looked to her like a deer caught in headlights, blinked, swallowed then bowed his head. "Thank yew, Fay," he spoke in gratitude. "I really wuz starvin' out 'er."
His progenitor grinned and shook her head dismissively, only to approach the rath from the side and sit. She sat quietly while he ate his fill, which took a number of hours to do. When he finally broke through the skull of the beast, he began to eat the insides in pickings before he threw the fragments of bone down his bottomless throat as well. A contented sigh saw him lay back against the wall of the cave while he suckled the blood from his claws and licked his lips.
"I'm glad we came here," Fayeth spoke while she stared in thought.
"Why'sat?" Arkash returned with a furrow of his brow.
"Well, first of all, you need to pronounce the 'Thhh' noise at the start of your words properly," she scolded with a raise of her brows, then came to sit beside him against the wall of the cave. "Why's that," she corrected. "I'm glad because just two days have changed your attitude so much; it'd been a while since I last saw you smile back in Lorien, but I see you for the first time in two days and you're excited about something like a cloak," she grinned and shook her head dismissively. "I was afraid you'd lost your light, but it looks like you've found it again."
Lost your light, he thought, and stared on at the bleak gray wall of the cave. A short breath through his nose and an exhale affirmed that he thought the same. Had he found his light? A reason to fight the darkness? Perhaps not. He felt better, at least. Being among his own kind, being treated nicely and fairly, they all brought him some level of content, but it wasn't happiness that would last. He wasn't fulfilled. "I'm happia'," he affirmed. "They's all good t' me 'ere," he assured.
Fayeth shook her head with the slight smile she bore still pulling at her lips. "Once your vacation is over, we're really going to sit down and work on your common," she spoke in promise, then sighed. "What have you learned?"
The rath rolled his eyes. "...Well," he thought for a moment. "Th' Chief's a goose," he spoke, only to earn an amused furrow of the Cardinal's brow. "An', 'e doesn' caer' 'bout me killin' people faw my purpose; th-at th-ing Az was sayin' about," Arkash lowered his head to look at his claws, and smiled a bit. It didn't feel right to incorporate the right mouth sounds into his speech, but it would become easier, he believed. "Th' purpose is big 'ere, liek th' comin' of age ceremony," he continued while he thought. "In fact, they dun' see me as grown-up 'til I get i' doen," he explained with a turn of his claws.
"That ceremony Asmodei spoke of some six months ago?"
"...More liek faw, bu-t yeah," he affirmed with a nod.
"Well, are they willing to help you have one?"
"Oh, yeah... They said 'ey'd frow- ehm, th-row me out'f I sed no." He spoke with a nod. "So, I'm getting i' dun' in a week or so... D'yew wanna coem?" He offered with a turn of his claws and a hopeful glint in his eyes.
Fayeth grinned, and shook her head. "As flattered as I am that you'd invite me to something so momentous, I'll sit it out. This is your experience as a proper rath, I'd rather not be there to remind you of Lorien during your stay," she spoke with something of a sad smile. "I am happy for you, Arkash. Seeing your growth here gives me hope."
The rath tilted his head. "Hope?"
A nod of her head proceeded, followed by a brief shake. "...That you might not try to take your life again," she admitted.
Arkash fell quiet in wake of the truth. He'd allowed an infection to kill him in his own mind. It didn't feel the same as suicide, more a lack of care for whether he survived or not. But obviously, such an act had left a lasting impression on Fayeth. "Fay..." he started with a frown, only to see her shake her head again.
"No," she spoke firmly and took a deep, almost shaky breath. "Not yet, lizard. You best head back before they miss you," she spoke with a nod, then stood to walk to the edge of the cave.
"...Fay," he called as she stepped out into the sunlight. "Am sorry... I- I relly am..."
The cardinal looked back upon him with a sad smile and bowed her head before she began to step down the mountain, and Arkash was left to his thoughts.
The decision to die was something he'd not soon escape, it seemed. Whether Fayeth forgave him or not, he wasn't sure. All he knew was that he'd really hurt her when he made such a selfish decision. An uncomfortable dread clung to his chest before he stepped out of the bloodstained cave, and proceeded down the hill of the mountain with a frown. Even if he was due to spend a few more days with the Boydd kinship, he couldn't shake the guilt that weighed on his heart. He had to fix things with Fayeth, but how? What could heal such a wound?
