Xochipilli frowned as people stared up at him. Calmer, for the moment. He turned his attention to a small child, Orlaith. Familiar. Varahel. And as she rushed towards him, complaining about being thirsty, he nodded, and moved to pull her into one arm.
Dark eyes paused, when he caught sight of Carasson. Fear bubbled in his chest, anxiety spiking. And he shook his head slowly, stepping off of the boulder and onto the dry, cracked earthen floor of the clan.
His next few movements were steady, even though there was a tremble to his hands. Orlaith was handed back into the crowd, as he moved into the very center of the clearing, humming under his breath. He paused, eventually.
Leaning down, he summoned a vine to mark the spot. And then he weaved his way through the crowd, past frightened people, to the man he'd hoped on some level to never see again.
He still had nightmares, about Carasson. About... everything that he'd done. Boiling his blood. When he'd tried to dry-drown Cara from the inside-out. When... at the end, Carasson had rendered him useless and his clan in danger... No, not Cara. But the body... the power... It didn't change the association in his mind.
And he trembled slightly, as he got nearer.
Chip stopped a foot away.
He shifted his weight, anxiously, and swallowed hard. Reminding himself that the man wasn't touching him, he'd stopped far enough away with distance between them.
Stay clear of the ocean, the salt will just dehydrate you further.He called out, gaze wandering along the crowd.
Dark eyes paused, when he caught sight of Carasson. Fear bubbled in his chest, anxiety spiking. And he shook his head slowly, stepping off of the boulder and onto the dry, cracked earthen floor of the clan.
His next few movements were steady, even though there was a tremble to his hands. Orlaith was handed back into the crowd, as he moved into the very center of the clearing, humming under his breath. He paused, eventually.
Leaning down, he summoned a vine to mark the spot. And then he weaved his way through the crowd, past frightened people, to the man he'd hoped on some level to never see again.
He still had nightmares, about Carasson. About... everything that he'd done. Boiling his blood. When he'd tried to dry-drown Cara from the inside-out. When... at the end, Carasson had rendered him useless and his clan in danger... No, not Cara. But the body... the power... It didn't change the association in his mind.
And he trembled slightly, as he got nearer.
Chip stopped a foot away.
I...His voice was hoarse, and not because he was thirsty. He paused, one minute, two minutes, three.
I need your help. They need a water source.But he did not have geomancy. The last well had been destroyed in the scuffle, and he had not yet taken the time to rebuild it by hand.
I don't think they want to help me dig a well.A weak attempt at a joke, if he was being honest. His voice cracked, and he averted his gaze. He couldn't let himself get swept up in his feelings; his people (and those who were not his people) needed him.
He shifted his weight, anxiously, and swallowed hard. Reminding himself that the man wasn't touching him, he'd stopped far enough away with distance between them.
05-08-2023, 08:57 PM
