Reawakening an Old Wound

Discussion in 'THREAD ARCHIVES' started by Dragondarium, Feb 23, 2012.

  1. He was so excited! First day at work. He was going to be getting a partner rather than be stuck with a group of training 'puppies' as their more experienced members called them. Alexander Trival couldn't wait for his assignment.

    He looked down at the piece of paper in his hand with his pair of dark green eyes A splash of color among pale skin that often made those around him mistake him for a vampire at first glance. After all, what youth would be pale skinned, have pitch black hair and an almost emerald color for eyes? But Alexander was 100% bone-fied human. And for that he was glad and proud.

    He rode his horse down the center of the town he'd been sent to find his new partner. It was midday which was all right with Alexander. He wanted to meet new 'friend' in the day so that they didn't try to stake him without asking any questions. He slipped from his horse and went to the town fountain to wash his face free of dirt.

    By all female accounts when he was all cleaned up and proper looking Alexander was a decent lot. He'd even pulled off as a noble once to see if he could and he had. He rose and looked around before advancing on a young woman that was doing her laundry in the fountain like so many other women were that fine day.

    "'Ello there, might you point me in the direction of a house that you know someone lives in but don't see that person ever leave or come?" he asked, his accent just enough to color his words but not make it impossible to understand. His smile got the answers he needed and he led his horse the way that the women told him. He could hear them giggle and gossip about the 'new stranger' but couldn't care less. But as was his part to play at such a time he looked over his shoulder and gave them a wink and continued walking.

    Eventually he found himself outside such a house. His five foot seven inch frame moved towards the door and he knocked, waiting for either the curses or the snarls that he thought would await him. "Sir? I'm here for a job, if you catch my drift," he called through the wooden door.
  2. [TABLE="class: outer_border, width: 600, align: center"]
    It was day time. And that meant Karver was asleep. As a Hunter, he slept when the monsters slept, and he hunted when the monsters hunted. It wouldn't really make sense, any other way. So, when he heard the knock on his door, he was a little grumpy. Who the hell would be knocking on his door at this hour? He'd made sure that everyone in the town would avoid his house, for fear of the crazy man who lived there. However, the words that followed the knock made it quite clear who was knocking on his door.

    Sighing heavily, he swung his long legs over the side of the bed and rubbed a hand through his long flaming red hair. Usually he wore it in a plait down his back, but while sleeping he left it undone. Narrowing his cat like, sky blue eyes, he wrestled back the wisps of hair from his face and clubbed the mass of red locks at the nape of his neck. He was wearing only trousers, not bothering with a tunic or jerkin as he was fairly certain he knew who was at the door.

    Standing, he stretched his thickly muscled 6'2" frame. His chest and back were criss-crossed with a number of scars, silver in the light that seeped through the shutters he had drawn. Going to the door, he opened a small square of wood in the door to peer out at the stranger on his step. He eyes him critically and scoffed. They'd sent him a pansy! Closing the peep hole once more, he unbolted and opened the main door, regarding the boy. "Come in," he said in a surprisingly smooth voice as he stepped aside.

  3. "Thank you sir," Alexander said with a smile that would have been infectious on anyone else. He looked over his shoulder at his horse and then entered the house. He looked around the main room that surrounded the door with a critical eye. He didn't speak again until the door was shut. He'd been told that his new partner would be an experienced person and that he was to respect him as much as possible. Alexander had to admit that the scar crossed chest had definitely given the younger man the feel that he was experienced and very knowledgeable of his craft.

    "I'm Alexander Trival. I was sent to work with you. It's my pleasure to meet you sir." Alexander told him though he refused to look at him when he was without a shirt. Knowing him, Alexander would start staring which would give the entirely wrong impression either way it was taken. "And I know it is the day and you were probably asleep and all, but I thought it would be better what with my... looks. I would rather not have another person attempt to drive any piece of wood into my chest again or try to chop off my head."
  4. [TABLE="class: outer_border, width: 600, align: center"]

    He looked the younger man up and down openly, assessing the 'looks' that Alexander was talking about. He was rather pale, and his eyes were certainly striking. Of course, there was a certain sense about him that automatically labelled him as human to Karver. A sense of life that went beyond physical appearance. Though, it seemed that not everyone was so fine tuned to this sense as he was. So he understood why the man would wish to travel by day. Still, it did inconvenience him.

    "No one in this town would try to kill you, I'm sure. They know to stay indoors after dark, and they know that there is someone who hunts the creatures while they sleep. They may be suspicious of you, but you would have been safe from all but the monsters themselves." Turning around, he walked towards a table with a jug of water and a glass on it. Pouring himself a glass, he took a moment to drink it, adam's apple bobbing with each gulp. Finished, he set it down and sighed, looking back at Alexander.

    "I work at night. Mostly local recently, but we will have to travel very soon. There have been reports of a nest in the woods south of here, and I will be investigating in the coming week. You'll come with me. For now, if you need to eat you may have some bread and cheese from the cupboard. There's a sleeping mat rolled up by the hearth, you may pull that out if you wish to sleep." Turning, he made to go back to his small adjacent sleeping room. Stopping at the door, he turned around as though having an after thought. "My name is James Karver, if you didn't know. You may call me Karver." And with that, he turned and closed the door between them so he might sleep.

  5. Alexander watched Karver shut himself away in what Alexander assumed was his bedroom. It went better than he had expected, Alexander supposed. Karver could have demanded him leave--as some of Alexander's puppy-mates had been yelled at to leave because they were inexperienced and clumsy. Alexander looked around for the mat that the man said that he could use. He went over to it and put his bag with it.

    Instead of immediately going to sleep however, he went back out and brushed his horse down and fed him the last of the oats that he had for the creature. Then he took the horse up to the house and tied his reigns to a post so that the creature didn't run away. He took his time and ignored the few people that stopped to look at him. When he was done he entered the house and did the bolt without thinking about it before going to roll out the mat.

    Sleep quickly grabbed the lad as he lay there, his left arm supporting his head as he lay on his left side. this was a better mat than what he was used to and he soon found himself rising through his dreams of becoming a bright and good hunter--a hunter that his current partner could be proud of.

    As the sun lowered his eyes popped open and he rose from his mat, for a moment unsure of where he lay before his memories came back to him. Sighing he rose and took off his tunic and began to search through his relatively small pack for his other clean one. While Karver's chest was criss crossed with old scars, Alexander's was relatively clean with the few scars gained from poor practicing of another student crossing his back. Besides that he was relatively clean looking. He finally found the clean shirt and started to pull it on before he heard a rip. Sighing he pulled the piece of cloth off and looked at it. A rip along the back had been created from the stretching of the material over Alexander's body. He guessed he had picked the wrong tunic when he'd been packing and so he sat back down on the mat and dug around in his pack once more for some piece of cloth to patch it up and a sharp enough needle to work it through the material.
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    Karver woke again with the sunset, a deep breath filling his lungs as he stood from bed, stretching upward until his fingertips touched the low rafters of the house. Sighing slightly once he was done, he went to the chest at the end of his bed and pulled out a fresh set of clothes. Before he could dress, however, he wanted to wash up a bit. Walking out in his breeches to the main room of the cabin, he only spared Alexander a brief glance as he went to a cupboard and pulled out a small wash basin. He set this on the table before moving towards the fire where Alexander appeared to be doing some mending.

    "Do you need a shirt?" he asked casually as he swung the kettle on it's arm over the fire to warm the water. While he waited for the water to boil, he began to assemble a cold breakfast of bread, cheese, and dried and salted deer meat. He also pulled out a bottle of some unknown origin which apparently contained some sort of alcoholic beverage. These things laid out, he put out two plates and two cups before going to take the hot kettle for his impromptu wash.

  7. "If I don't get this mended then I'll be stealing whatever shirt you give me," the young man said with a chuckle as he continued to work on sewing a piece of white cloth onto the white tunic. "No, thank you. I'll fix this one and wear it. IF anything I'll buy a new one later to replace it once I get enough coin for such expenses." His fingers moved quickly over the material and soon enough the mending was done and he pulled on the tunic before stuffing the rest of his belongings back into his pack and looking at the table with the food on it.

    He blinked as his stomach let out a large groan of longing and looked down at his stomach under the still rather tight shirt. Sighing he pushed himself up out of in front of the fire so that Karver could do whatever he planned to do and walked over to the table and picking up a knife and started to slice off pieces of the cheese. Then he sliced the bread as well and laid out piece on both plates. The sooner all this was done the sooner he could get at the food when the man was done washing. "What kind of drink is this?" he asked, holding the bottle up to give it a sniff.
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    "Mead." He poured the water from the kettle out into the basin, stream rising from the surface. Grabbing a sponge from the mantel, used for just this purpose, he dipped it into the nearly scalding water. As he began to rinse his face and exposed torso, he thought quietly to himself. After a long silence, he suddenly spoke again as though their first conversation had never ended.

    "You needn't spend unnecessary coin on such things. I have shirts too small for myself that would fit you. You may as well have them." His chest and arms streaked with water, drying slowly before the fire, he turned to look at Alexander. That day, when the younger man had arrived, he had come across as cold and harsh. Now, he seemed more distant with a touch of kindness hidden somewhere.

    In th
    e light of the fire, his features were softened slightly and though his face looked tired, it was suddenly more apparent that he probably was only a few years older than Alexander. James Karver had lived a difficult life, but he was still young.

  9. He wasn't quiet sure how to take this generosity on the part of the man that he was to be partnered with. He supposed he didn't mind the offer of the new shirt. In fact it would be even better that way. With no coin wasted on clothing, he could put it to use on paying for rent and food and sharing any other expenses like feeding the horse that he had brought that might come up Alexander poured the mead into the goblets and then corked the jug again and then walked over to lean against the table, his arms going to cross across his chest only to feel the material of his shirt threaten to tear so he simply lowered his arms and rested his palms on the table for support.

    "If you do not mind I may take you up on that offer after all," he said his face lowered so that he could only stare at the floor. despite the years to train himself, he still found himself staring at the body of another many--as despicable by the church that was. So it was better to simply not look in a time when there was another man even partially unclothed. He had schooled himself not to blush, but he'd never been able to find a way to keep himself from staring when he appreciated what he saw--even if the other men did not know or appreciate the staring.

    If anything the man that stood against the table needed to practice not to be affected at all by how beautiful a sleek male stomach or a clean cut or hard stomach looked on a man. He should like women. It was against the Church's beliefs that men were to be drawn to men.
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    Nodding, Karver walked back to his room where he pulled on a shirt for himself. Walking to the chest at the end of his bed, he opened it and dug down to the very bottom of the chest. Checking the door way to make sure Alexander couldn't see him, he pulled out five shirts in different colours, all looking as though they would perfectly fit Alexander. For a moment, while he was unwatched, he raised them to his face and closed his eyes, inhaling the smell on them. After a moment like this, he lowered them and opened his eyes again, he mask of indifference falling into place once more.

    Placing one of the shirts back in the chest, he carried the other four back out into the main room. He placed the pile on the back of a chair for Alexander, then went to grab some food and drink. "Help yourself," he said, as he began to eat. He didn't bother with grace, either. He never did.

  11. Alexander had really only thought that they would be the simplest of shirts of white cotton. When he looked over the quality of the shirts he was surprised at how well they had been maintained. He nodded his head appreciatively and walked over to where his other things were and put them away. For the evening he'd wear the shirt he'd worked so hard to mend. He picked up his bread and cheese and gave a shrug before digging into the food quickly.

    "Thank you for the clothes. They don't really give us money to buy clothes at trainee school," he said after taking a swallow of the bread and then of the mead. It didn't bother him really that Karver didn't say grace. Every time that Alexander said it he worried he'd be struck down there because of his eyes wandering ways. Not the funnest prospect when one was required to at least once say the grace at the training camp that most went to.
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    "So I've heard," he said casually, taking a few large gulps of mead. He drank it like water with little heed for the burn of the strong alcohol. Continuing with his meal, he looked up at Alexander and seemed to really look at him for the first time since their meeting. "It's not as though I could wear the shirts myself, so it's better that they go to someone else who will use them, I suppose." Looking back down at his plate, it seemed he'd run out of words to say.

    He wasn't known for being a man of many words. Most people knew him to be the strong silent type, always getting the job done with a cold stoicism, though few knew he hadn't always been that way. Once he had smiled just as much as any other, talked openly and freely without worry. But things had changed. There were something that, when they happened, you could never forget. And sometimes those things changed a man.

  13. Sighing the young man ate in silence after that, his eyes locked on the food before him. He was still tired from staying up so long during the day, but he couldn't admit that. He couldn't be allowed to be seen as weak on his first day. Instead he took on the deep persona he had developed of a hard worker that never became tired. With that in mind he rose and stretched after he had finished the bread and cheese. "May I ask what we are doing this evening? Did you have something planned or...?" He trailed off, looking at the other man with a light smile.
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    Karver ate in relative silence as well, watching his new recruit from the corner of his eye as he ate. It was a calculating eye, and it read the younger man quite well. As they both finished and he leaned back in his chair with a soft sigh, he eyed Alexander. "Training," he said in reply to the question asked him. "Just the basics, to keep us sharp." There had been rumors of a growing lair in the nearby woods, but he felt it would be wise for the two of them to train together and develop a sense for each other's fighting style before taking it into combat.

  15. Alexander nodded and shifted a little bit where he stood. Training. He had had one of the hardest trainers when he’d been a puppy. She had been a witch to any puppy that wasn’t paying attention, attacking them whenever she saw them zoning out. She was the only woman in the training hall and Alexander was sworn she’d become that way so that the men would leave her alone. But she had been scary. No one liked her.

    He still expected to see her jump out and smack him on the back of the knees as she had when she’d found him staring at another person. “That sounds good. Where do you train? Outside, inside?”