Star Crossed Scars ( MNN + Equusheart)

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The soft crackling of a fire could be heard in the small, dimly lit space. Morning light was just beginning to peek through the nearby greenery and the wildlife within the forest began to stir. A small hut sat nestled within a nearby grove, a small trail of smoke billowing from it's roof. Just beyond an open window, a slender figure could be seen crouched by the fire, small orange flames licking a bowl held in their hand. A low voice spoke in a soft elvish chant, glowing fingertips running along the clay surface.The contents within the bowl seemed to glow as well, the sticky liquid giving way to a gentle bubble. A sound nearby seemed to jostle the figure from their concentration, looking over to a small cot at the edge of the room. The man stood, revealing a tall frame and long auburn locks tied into a messy mop of a braid.

Now, make no mistake Myriil was not normally one to welcome strangers so openly into his home. However when he stumbled across a man the night before he had made an exception to that well learned rule. He had been non-responsive and bleeding out with a seemingly mortal wound- the elf could not simply walk past. It had been a struggle to awkwardly finesse a way to carry him back to the safety of his home, but Myriil had been determined to find shelter for him from the elements. Once safely to his cottage, he had made quick work of concocting remedies to stem the bleeding and bandage the man as best he could with what little supplies were at his disposal.

It seemed a waiting game at this point, to see if it was enough. Many would have perished easily from a wound as extensive as the one that trailed along his side. But this one had a strong spirit- stronger than most he had come across in some time.
"Mala suledin nadas," Myriil spoke, blue eyes etched in shadow. He observed the handiwork of his bandages to make sure none had come lose as he slept. He reached two fingers into the bowl, scooping out the warm liquid and gently applying it to some of the smaller wounds that scattered his body. From what he could assess, it seems he had been attacked by an animal, and a vicious one at that. It set his mind with unease to know that something with such ferocity could be lurking nearby.
 
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A soft groan came from Arthfael's lips as he slowly came to consciousness. His mind felt as if he were trying to push through a thick fog. His limbs felt heavy and his head ached when he tried to move it. Bits and pieces slowly started to come back to him as he remembered what had happened. He should be dead after all that. And yet he wasn't. But why?

As his senses gathered back to him, Arthfael soon became aware that he was surrounded by unfamiliar scents and sounds. Where was he? As Arthfael's eyes opened slightly he caught the scent of a stranger and became aware of warm feeling being pressed to his body.

"W... where...," Arthfael tried to ask in a rough dry voice. When the warm salve was again presses to his wound, Arthfael hissed at the twinge of pain that came from it and tried to jerk away. Though the action only made him groan as the movement made his head spin.
 
He quickly looked when he heard the other stirring, moving to grab a a small strip of cloth from his waist to tie around his eyes in a swift, well practiced movement. It had been a long time since he had seen anyone else, but the memories of his past were still fresh. He did not wish to startle the man farther- for Myriil's sake.

The elf took note of the common tongue and thought for a moment to find his words, "try to stay still," Myriil kept his voice calm when the other tried to move away. Understandably so, the mixture had quite a bite to it, especially on wounds as deep as these. "We have both had...long night," the words felt dusty in his mouth as his use of common tongue was rare these days. Any use of his voice outside of magic necessity was relatively rare.

Deft fingers finished applying the rest of the salve and he placed the bowl on a nearby table with a soft clatter. "I am sure you have many questions, I have them myself." With these words Myriil stood and moved to grab a small clay cup filled with water to offer him, "drink."
 
Arthfael sniffed at the contents of the cup the elf handed him before taking a drink. The water was cool against his throat and helped to relieve the parched dryness. As he handed the cup back, Arthfael eyed the strange elf suspiciously.

"Who... are you?" Arthfael asked. His gazed drifted from the elf to the shack around them. He whinced as the movement strained at his wounds. "Where am I?"
 
Myriil looked to him through the thin fabric that now covered his eyes, taking the cup from him when he was finished. "My name..." He hummed with indecision, not sure if this was information he was willing to give a stranger in his home. One's name held a great power.

"Luthais," he finally completed. "And this is my home." The elven man followed where the other was looking curiously. "Be assured you are safe here. I found you...last night. Most would have died from the wounds you bear." Myriil had questions to ask as well, but for now he was intent to keep the other from moving around too much.

"Are you hungry?"
 
Arthfael gave a deep throated chuckle, but whinced when the action pulled at his wounds.

"I don't think it's my safety that you should be worried about," Arthfael said with a groan as he tried to sit up. He had to leave here as soon as possible. He didn't want to bring any danger down on this stange elf that had helped him. But when Luthais asked if he was hungry, Arthfael felt his stomach rumble in response.

"I suppose I am," Arthfael said with another chuckle.
 
An auburn eyebrow Rose from behind the thin cloth in question at the man's response. "Is my safety at risk?" Myriil's voice was low and edged with caution, immediately rethinking why he thought letting someone into his home would be a grand idea. 'You have no backbone-' a voice in the back of his mind hissed and he tried to distract himself by rising from the cot at the man's response. It did little to quiet the nagging common sense.

He wandered to a small table where a platter of various fruits and nuts set that he had gathered with intention for his own breakfast. The cloth did little to the perception of his keen eyes. "Because if it is, I will not hesitate to send you back out to the wolves." Myriil tried to soften his tone, placing the plate in his lap and holding out a small fruit. Whatever did this to him was much larger than the wolves he had come across in the woods, and even so they usually maintained their distance.

"What attacked you?"
 
"Is my safety at risk?"

Arthfael didn't answer Luthais' question, his gaze dropping to the floor in a small wave of guilt. 'Not so long as they don't catch my scent,' he thought to himself. Arthfael was certain that he was out of their territory by now, though he couldn't be sure that they wouldn't follow after him. He knew they wouldn't give up the hunt until they knew that he was long gone or dead.

"Wolves don't bother me," Arthfael replied with a slight smirk. "But don't worry. I'll be leaving as soon as my strength has returned." Slowly and carefully, Arthfael sat up at the edge of the cot, slightly concerned with how weak he felt.

"What attacked you?"

Arthfael grew silent for a moment, his features growing serious and sad as he reached up a hand to touch the gash on the side of his face. He closed his eyes and sighed, knowing what it meant.

"Something... that I pray you never encounter."
 
"Well, that won't be happening for some time. Your wounds are deep and will take...long to heal." His voice remained firm, pressing against the other man's chin gently with his hand as he appeared to be examining the cut there. These would have made anyone queasy and faint, but living on many years with no one but himself to count on Myriil had quickly overcome such trials. Little affected him these days. "And if you keep moving it will take longer."

His eyes narrowed beneath the cloth, eyebrows furrowing at his ambiguous answer. It seemed he would not be the only one trying to maintain a healthy mysterious air. "You can keep secrets- for now," he paused, turning his line of sight back to him. The man had just endured a pretty traumatic night by the looks of it, despite the lightness he seemed to portray in his smiles and tone. It was every man for himself out here, and showing weakness was not wise even if lying horribly wounded in a stranger's home. "You could tell me your name?" He asked, knowing full well he might give a false one like he had. It would be nice have something to call him besides Mereth en Draugrim, or Wolf Feast as those might say in the common tongue.
 
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Arthfael gave a heavy sigh as he laid back down with a groan. Luthais was right. He wouldn't be able to make it very far in his current condition, and Arthfael had been lucky to make it this far.. Though healing was bit faster for his kind, Arthfael knew it was going to be a long and boring process and Arthfael didn't fancy lingering here for that long. The longer he stayed here, the more he put Luthais at risk.

"My name?" Arthfael asked in reply. He had half a mind to give some false name just to satisfy the elf, but then he sighed. What did it matter who knew his name. "My name is Arthfael."

Luthais' touch at his chin startled Arthfael and he jerked away as if he'd been touched by a red hot poker. The movement pulled at his wounds causing him to cry out in pain. Fear flashed through Arthfael's mind and he quickly turned away from Luthais and covered his eyes with an arm as he felt them shift from blue to crimson.

'Easy,' Arthfael thought to himself as tried to draw in a breath. 'He's only trying to help. Only trying to help.'
 
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The elf shrinked back at the Arthfael's sudden outcry when he pulled away. It sent the hair of the back of his neck to prickle, and his own heart began racing with adrenaline. He was left speechless for a time as he took a moment to realize what had happened. His immediate thought was the dark tint of his hand set the man off, but Myriil reminded himself that he hadn't said or done anything that might imply what it was. That was simply the voices of his past resurfacing. "I'm...sorry. I've forgotten what it's like-" Myriil paused, trying to find the right words. "-to deal with people. I did not mean to startle you." Any healing his body had managed within the past few hours had likely been undone with the abrupt movement.

It turns out tending to someone while they were unconscious was a lot easier than when they were awake. The attack seemed to have gone much farther than only skin deep and Myriil's heart ached for the stranger. "I will try to be more careful." His expression had softened and he did not dare to reach toward him as he let the nerves calm. "Will you allow me to look?" Myriil asked, gazing at Arthfael through the thin fabric and fidgeting with a loose strand of long orange golden hair.
 
Arthfael remained still and silent, fighting back the instinct to snarl at the stranger that stood too close to him. That had hurt him. 'No, not him.' Arthfael took several slow breaths as he tried to calm himself, though the shadows still lingered in the back of his mind. He lowered his hand as he felt his eyes slowly return to blue and regarded Luthais cautiously.

"Will you allow me to look?" For the longest Arthfael didn't move or speak. Finally he gave the slightest nod of his head before turning his gaze downcast, his muscles tense as if ready to run or fight should anything happen. 'He's only trying to help.'
 
Myriil was hesitant to take the gesture as full approval and he did not move at first once Arthfael looked away in submission. It was reminiscent of a memory he had of dog in the streets of his home village. What little remnants of memories he allowed to stay in his mind the sad face of the mutt had always stuck out to him. It had known nothing but fighting to stay alive, but with some coaxing it had one day let Myriil get close enough to place some ointment on a wound. Although, it had not seemed comfortable at all in the interaction and like it was trying to force the instinct to bite him out of its mind. He could see that same concentration on Arthfael's face.

"I will move slower this time," Myriil thought that if he tried to talk during the process it might make it easier for him. "If anything hurts, tell me," the words were immediately followed by a sigh. "I assume everything hurts..." These words were quieter as he reached forward once again. The bandages were already in need of replacing and it was becoming clear he would need to go to town to buy more. No amount of scrap fabric he had lying around could possibly cover the extensive gash that trailed along his side. And a few moments and only a few sparse, feather light touches he retracted, standing from where he had been sitting.

"I will need to make more remedy and go to town. You need rest." Myriil looked to the small tray of food and placed it on the table next to the cot with the remaining water. "You may eat if you need. I will be over there before leaving." He gestured back to the fire that had grown dimmer due to lack of kindling. The walk to the nearest town took at least a few hours so he would need to take some time to prepare for the journey.
 
Arthfael tensed as Luthais reached out towards him again, his jaw clenched tightly as he fought the urge to pull away. But instead of inflicting pain, the fingers that touch him were light and gentle as they tended to his wounds. His eyes closed as Arthfael released his breath in a shuddering sigh and finally allowed himself to submit to Luthais' care.

Inwardly, Arthfael berated himself for reacting in the way that he did, like some cowardly fledgling. And yet the fear Arthfael had felt still lingered in the back of his mind like a waiting shadow. Fear and pain. When Luthais' fingers moved to the gash along his side, Arthfael felt himself flinch and he was unable to stop the whine that came from his throat in the form of a soft, low hum. It was a sad and pain filled sound.

When Luthais had finished and stepped away Arthfael gave a nod of his head in reply to the elf's words. Arthfael eyed the food tray, but made no move to eat as he suddenly found himself no longer hungry.

"I shall rest then," Arthfael said finally in a low voice. He settled himself back against the cot with a groan. He continued to watch the red haired elf, his eyes resting curiously on the cloth that covered his eyes. Briefly Arthfael wondered if perhaps Luthais was blind, but he seemed to be too aware of his surroundings for that.
 
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Myriil could feel Arthfael's eyes on him as he moved about, gathering a few ingredients from a nearby cupboard decorated with dried herbs and jars of various substance. The cottage was small and quaint and looked like it had been lived in for quite some time. The decor could be best described as well organized chaos, with only enough furniture to house a single person. A small table sat in the corner, it's surface scattered with clayware and a single chair at its side. Cuts of meat dried just above the fire pit, and there seemed to be plants in most any space the elf could fit them. Some appeared to be herbs, and others for aesthetic or medicinal purposes.

Although, the most notable quality of the space was the aromas that wafted through the air. Savory, rich herbs and the soft smell of burning incense danced along a gentle breeze that carried in through an open window. Crystals on the window sill sparkled in the sun beams that had begun trickling through the foliage outside.

After a few moments of clinking around at the cupboard, Myriil had returned to the cot. A green cloak now hung from his shoulders, its tattered edges a sign that it had long seen better days.
"This will numb the pain until I return so you can rest." The red haired elf said as he placed a small clay cup beside him, hesitant to offer the man anything directly for the time being. The fragrance wafting from it in sparkling tendrils smelled sweet and the liquid that rested within it was a crystalline purple with heavy viscosity.
 
Arthfael's gaze moved from the Luthais to the cottage around them, carefully taking in the contents of the elf's home. He couldn't think of why, but there was something about the small space that warmed him and made him feel at ease. A feeling Arthfael had never experienced before.

Arthfael sniffed cautiously at the contents of the cup Luthais had brought him before drinking from it.

"Thank you," Arthfael groaned as he handed the cup back. His gaze moved to the elf's face, trying to see his eyes through the cloth. "So what's with the blindfold? You don't seem blind as far as I can tell and I doubt you have any scars like mine."
 
The elf watched intently as he drank from the cup. "If you feel the pain creeping back, just drink more and it should subside. This should last you long enough until I return before the sun sets." The conversation was easy enough until the subject of the cloth around his eyes emerged.

Myriil seemed to shy away from the question, not answering at first as he busied himself with mindlessly tidying up discarded items from his rush the night before. "I'm not blind," he finally confirmed after the short drought of silence. "Many find my eyes to be...off putting. I did not want to startle you." It had become a practice he was accustomed to the rare occasion he did venture into town. If others thought you to be blind they often did not ask questions and let you go about your way. His hands were more difficult to conceal but he'd managed to commission some gloves recently that hid the dark, creeping veins well enough.
 
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Arthfael eyed the red haired elf curiously a moment, but then gave a nod of his head as he accepted Luthais' answer. He could understand Luthais wanting to hide his eyes from people as Arthfael often had his always hidden as well. The common folk didn't seem to respond well to red eyes.

"Very well then," Arthfael said as he shifted himself with a slight groan. He could already feel the powder Luthais had given him begin to work. "Go about your business. I shall try to rest and regain my strength."
 
Myriil had begun busying himself with the cloak around his shoulders, giving a brief nod in acknowledgement to Arthfael's words. "I will return soon," he said from where he now stood in the doorway, shouldering a large bag that was overflowing with items that he intended to trade while in town. The door creaked behind him as it closed and he closed his eyes to take in a deep breath of air to help clear his mind. It smelled sweet of crisp morning dew and faint scents of herbs from his small garden lingered about the small hut. "I can do this," the elf said softly to himself under his breath in a shallow attempt at reassurance before continuing forward down the well remembered path toward town.

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His trip to town had been more or less successful with minimal degrading comments and glares from the locals, his gloves and other coverings seeming to do the trick to help him blend in with the bustling crowd. When he returned to his hut it continued like this for a few days, him tending to the other man's wounds and their exchanges gradually became less awkward. It was becoming more apparent that there was more to Arthfael than met the eye as he maintained a distance from talking about anything to do with the night he had found him. The rate at which he healed was astounding and Myriil wondered if magic touched Arthfael as it did with him. He had grown to enjoy his company and Myriil realized he'd forgotten what it was like to actually have someone besides birds and plants to talk to.

Although, remaining bedridden was not doing him any favors and the elf decided it was time for him to stretch his muscles and give his body some needed stress so the wound did not heal uncomfortably. The healing skin needed to learn to move with the rest of him so the scar was forgiving. Although Arthfael healed more beautifully than any creature Myriil had come across, the extent of his injuries had been great and would surely leave a large scar.

At the sight of first light just beyond the trees the red haired elf was already awake, moving about the open room in search for items to assist with the harvest he planned to go on today. With great dexterity he moved to the cot, his voice loud enough to wake the other man in case he was still asleep, but not enough to startle him. "Get up- you will come with me this morning." It was straight to the point and left no room for rebuttal, not that Myriil thought he might be met with it. He was sure Arthfael might be itching to get out of here with how long Myriil had insisted on keeping him cooped up inside.
 
Arthfael had been in that warm place somewhere between sleep and consciousness, dreaming about something though he could no longer recall, when the elf's words found his ear. With a deep groan, slowly came awake, his breath deepening as he stirred. He rolled slightly and opened one eye to look up at the chestnut haired male.

"Well, good morning to you too," Arthfael uttered in a deep voice, rough with sleep. He gave a yawn and moved to stretch, wincing slightly when the movement pulled on his scar. Pretending that it hadn't bothered him, Arthfael put his hands behind his head and grinned up at Luthais. "So, no coffee or anything?"
 
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