Hoshor Plains BLADE ARTS I

backdated may 25th, for @Machiavelli

an entourage had arrived. those of the desert folk. this wouldn't be much of a concern if it weren't for who is among them.

a pale man, more deer than wolf, had been part of those visiting. truthfully, masa had already planned his departure from yellowstone since his dream, though hadn't expected it to be so soon.

the mass of ink approaches.

Straying from his party long enough to take a good look at a swath of unfamiliar flowers, Machi had begun his return to the priest's side only to catch the wheaten eye of the samurai.

He paused, offering a polite bow, Hello, my Lord the opalescent gaze lingered on the earth below the man's paws, how might I serve you?

he could finish the job right now. he is not needed in yellowstone, nor anywhere else, except for where she is. masa can only sharpen his eyes underneath the foul crinkle of his brow, unable to do much besides scrutinize the man where a blade may be.

may i ask what is the purpose of your people? his voice remains like bass: powerful and deep yet subdued. any frustration he may have felt is hidden by a lifetime of discipline. even if, in the end, he is no better than the mangy thief that scurries within the stalks of grass.

The man's stare brought a prickle to Machi's pelt. He shifted uncertainly, lifting his gaze momentarily before glancing back to the group, hoping, miraculously, that one of them would notice, and relieve him from the uncomfortable situation.

We are traveling to the neighboring packs in hopes of strengthening our alliances or forging new ones, my Lord, the fellahin replied, his voice smooth and practiced, though a touch of unease lingered beneath the surface. However, I am but a lowly servant. Your questions might be better answered by my the title dripped from his mouth like something unpleasant, masters.

a slave. what kind, masa has a few guesses.

his visage softens, having caught a whiff of the man's unease. though dull gamboge eyes continue to scrutinize him. i see. i apologize for the suspicion. it is rare i am bowed down to. he looks beyond him now, catching the silhouettes of those frankly not much bigger than the man. no wonder they seek arrangements.

why do you stray from them? he returns to machiavelli with a question that tilts the samurai's brow. if it is curiosity of the territory, then i'll have to accompany you.

My apologies, Sir, Machi responded, rising from the ground, only to realize the view was not all that different as he tilted his head back to meet the giant's gaze.

I was only interested in the flowers, he replied, gesturing with his nose. We don't have many like that in the desert.

..if it's flowers, then.. masa dips his head. 

the dance of the prairie flowers is interrupted by his jaws, and with only the jerk of his head they are ripped from the earth. he stiffly offers the bundle to the servant.

here.

A hot flush blossomed across the man's pale face. Oh, he exclaimed nervously, his voice barely a whisper, thank you. Machi took the offered flowers, his eyes darting away, seeking solace in the mundane details of their surroundings.

Had anyone ever offered him flowers before? He could not recall a time when it had happened, and he certainly did not expect it to be this uncomfortable. The simple gesture left him floundering for the right response, his mind a whirlwind of uncertainty.

What should he do? How should he respond? In Akashingo, he was neither royalty nor nobility, merely a fellahin. He was not brought along as a diplomat, and the weight of potential consequences pressed heavily upon him. One wrong word could disrupt the delicate negotiations between Akashingo and Yellowstone, and he could not afford to jeopardize his tenuous protection.

They're truly beautiful, he finally managed, his voice faint. Your kindness is greatly appreciated, My Lord. He glanced up briefly, his opalescent eyes flickering with uncertainty before returning to the blooms. Hopefully, these can represent the start of an alliance between our packs. Machi added sheepishly.

masa lets one flower drop as he hands them to machi, though he affords it little attention

that said, the man barely reacts. he dips his head as he accepts the flustered servant's thanks.

i am only a wandering musha. i am no lord, and i am afraid this will not be my pack for long. only slightly does his voice gentle as finallt masa corrects him.
still, may it tie your clan and yellowstone together in unity.

Thank you for the thread! I'm glad these two finally got to meet!

Oh, my apologies, the man exclaimed, I hope I did not cause offense.

He offered a warm, albeit slightly hesitant, smile. Thank you very much for these; I hope wherever you find yourself calling home next is safe and comfortable.

I must be returning to my party now, he added, offering a graceful dip of his pale head in lieu of a full bow. With a final, fleeting smile, he turned, his steps light and hurried, eager to slip away from the moment that had grown too stressful for his liking, despite the man's kindness.

safe travels.
he'll need it.

once the servant has taken his leave, masa picks the dropped flower again, and turns the opposite way.

he had to prepare for departure.