Eventually, the warmth in Arkash's body built to a point that his breath became visible; clouds of wispy white condensation flowed in puffs from his jaws. They were small at first, but they steadily grew as his body warmed.
Arkash appeared strangely at ease among the collective of homeless humans. Some might have been more on edge in the presence of all the scraggly men and women, but he was conditioned to it. Arkash found that the people who had the least to lose had the most to offer, more often than not. Even though he'd never really held any moving conversations with the gathered humans, they never denied him the bounty of warmth they had to offer. More than once, the generosity of a homeless man had saved him from freezing.
Subconsciously, even, Arkash knew he was safe among those people. It reflected in the way he spoke what he desired while he still struggled with his consciousness. The barrel fire. His salvation. That wasn't to say they were completely harmless, no. There was a reason that they formed a sub-community in Nivenhain's alleys, and safety in numbers was only part of it.
Arkash didn't consider the homeless people much after his thoughts began to run more coherently, with defined starts and stops to each consideration. The lady he traveled with; was she okay? He couldn't recall if she'd been hurt in their journey, he had to make sure. A quick nod followed her declaration. It was good that she was well; he didn't know any doctors. He smiled a little at her reply, and she asked if he was injured. Arkash pursed his lips, then looked to both his claws while they thawed.
The digits were almost functioning properly again, but he saw some difficulty in coordination from the deep-set cold. Nonetheless, he began to pat down his arms in search of a wound and found nothing. Across his chest, however, he found something wet, clammy. when he pulled his fingers away, he lifted his fingers to his nose and carefully sniffed. There was no mistaking the rich iron scent that flooded his lungs; he had blood on him. His other claw came up to the neck of his furs and he felt around for any cuts or wounds that might have been, but he felt none. The blood wasn't his.
The young rath wasn't sure if that was better or worse, for he couldn't remember who's it was, or how serious the wound inflicted could have been. Arkash seemed to stare for a long moment, then moved his gaze back to Mannon. "Yeah... am fien," he spoke in assurance, though his eyes remained worried. Arkash resumed staring while he recollected his thoughts. There was a knife, an attack, gunfire, and ethereal blasts from the runeforged casings. They'd been in a shoot-out, they attacked someone? No, someone attacked them.
Arkash snapped from his thoughts when his front became too hot, and he turned around again to warm his back. The Lady's name was Mannon, as she informed when Arkash offered his own name. "Mannon..." He spoke aloud, as if in contemplation, then brought his lips to smile after a moment or two "I'ss nice! Suit's 'ew well," he chimed. He'd not heard such a name before, she must have come from quite far away, he surmised. She spoke with gratitude in a tone that was quite alien from when she threatened to rot his body, and Arkash bowed his head with a grin, only to grimace a little. Unspoken guilt twisted his features. After all, it was because of him that the lady had been subject to the horrors of a shootout.
When her question came, Arkash was in the middle of warming his fingers; he at least wanted them to work properly again before he went back out into the cold. "Hm?" He asked in response, then looked about where her eyes trailed. "O! Naw, no' 'round 'ere. I'm kin'a lucky, live in th' nice par' a' town." Of course, that wasn't saying much for Lower Nivenhain, but it wasn't as dangerous as the particular street they rested on.
It was only then that he realized that he assumed she was from Outer Nivenhain. Given the way she dressed, that seemed to be the most reasonable assumption; that, or one of the higher districts which he wasn't overly familiar with. "You's stayin' in Outa, yeah? Sorry, kin'a jus' thought-" he winced a little, then shook his head as he rubbed his palms together. "You bin in Nivenhe'n long?" He asked after a moment's pause, then smiled brightly. That was the moment of truth, even if he already had plenty of reason to suspect she was an immigrant, he would be certain with her answer, or so he believed.
"An'... I'm sorry I tuck us throu' Charga turf. I' musta bin awful fright'nin." Another pause came, and Arkash looked to the flames as they flickered for a long moment, then he looked at her again with a tilt of his head. It was only then that he noticed that she was quite close to the fire. "Thanks f'r no' leavin' me, too," he spoke with a smile.
Arkash appeared strangely at ease among the collective of homeless humans. Some might have been more on edge in the presence of all the scraggly men and women, but he was conditioned to it. Arkash found that the people who had the least to lose had the most to offer, more often than not. Even though he'd never really held any moving conversations with the gathered humans, they never denied him the bounty of warmth they had to offer. More than once, the generosity of a homeless man had saved him from freezing.
Subconsciously, even, Arkash knew he was safe among those people. It reflected in the way he spoke what he desired while he still struggled with his consciousness. The barrel fire. His salvation. That wasn't to say they were completely harmless, no. There was a reason that they formed a sub-community in Nivenhain's alleys, and safety in numbers was only part of it.
Arkash didn't consider the homeless people much after his thoughts began to run more coherently, with defined starts and stops to each consideration. The lady he traveled with; was she okay? He couldn't recall if she'd been hurt in their journey, he had to make sure. A quick nod followed her declaration. It was good that she was well; he didn't know any doctors. He smiled a little at her reply, and she asked if he was injured. Arkash pursed his lips, then looked to both his claws while they thawed.
The digits were almost functioning properly again, but he saw some difficulty in coordination from the deep-set cold. Nonetheless, he began to pat down his arms in search of a wound and found nothing. Across his chest, however, he found something wet, clammy. when he pulled his fingers away, he lifted his fingers to his nose and carefully sniffed. There was no mistaking the rich iron scent that flooded his lungs; he had blood on him. His other claw came up to the neck of his furs and he felt around for any cuts or wounds that might have been, but he felt none. The blood wasn't his.
The young rath wasn't sure if that was better or worse, for he couldn't remember who's it was, or how serious the wound inflicted could have been. Arkash seemed to stare for a long moment, then moved his gaze back to Mannon. "Yeah... am fien," he spoke in assurance, though his eyes remained worried. Arkash resumed staring while he recollected his thoughts. There was a knife, an attack, gunfire, and ethereal blasts from the runeforged casings. They'd been in a shoot-out, they attacked someone? No, someone attacked them.
Arkash snapped from his thoughts when his front became too hot, and he turned around again to warm his back. The Lady's name was Mannon, as she informed when Arkash offered his own name. "Mannon..." He spoke aloud, as if in contemplation, then brought his lips to smile after a moment or two "I'ss nice! Suit's 'ew well," he chimed. He'd not heard such a name before, she must have come from quite far away, he surmised. She spoke with gratitude in a tone that was quite alien from when she threatened to rot his body, and Arkash bowed his head with a grin, only to grimace a little. Unspoken guilt twisted his features. After all, it was because of him that the lady had been subject to the horrors of a shootout.
When her question came, Arkash was in the middle of warming his fingers; he at least wanted them to work properly again before he went back out into the cold. "Hm?" He asked in response, then looked about where her eyes trailed. "O! Naw, no' 'round 'ere. I'm kin'a lucky, live in th' nice par' a' town." Of course, that wasn't saying much for Lower Nivenhain, but it wasn't as dangerous as the particular street they rested on.
It was only then that he realized that he assumed she was from Outer Nivenhain. Given the way she dressed, that seemed to be the most reasonable assumption; that, or one of the higher districts which he wasn't overly familiar with. "You's stayin' in Outa, yeah? Sorry, kin'a jus' thought-" he winced a little, then shook his head as he rubbed his palms together. "You bin in Nivenhe'n long?" He asked after a moment's pause, then smiled brightly. That was the moment of truth, even if he already had plenty of reason to suspect she was an immigrant, he would be certain with her answer, or so he believed.
"An'... I'm sorry I tuck us throu' Charga turf. I' musta bin awful fright'nin." Another pause came, and Arkash looked to the flames as they flickered for a long moment, then he looked at her again with a tilt of his head. It was only then that he noticed that she was quite close to the fire. "Thanks f'r no' leavin' me, too," he spoke with a smile.