RP:Bastrien & Rianthir

Bastrien leans against a thick tree trunk, resting after the ferocious bought with Reinhardh. Cradling his possibly broken arm to his chest, he tried in vain to fashion a sling. His energy drained, he had not the strength to summon any healing magics to mend his injured appendage. Choosing this spot for it's silence, he hears someone before they are in view. His good arm falling to the dagger at his side, he is relieved to see the Avian Rianthir step around the trunk of a tree and look down at him. A new friend, but a friend regardless, Bastrien breathes a sigh of relief. He'd had enough conflict for one day. Waving the other Avian over, he asks, "You wouldn't happen to anything about patching someone up, would you? And if not," he adds with a laugh, "I could sure use an extra hand to fix this damn sling."

Rianthir quite literally stumbled across the Avian from earlier; having heard noises nearby, the male had cautiously approached from behind the tree Bastrien was leaning against, too busy watching the way ahead to notice the ground beneath his feet. As such, the young one had tripped over an exposed root and landed rather spectacularly on his face in front of the other. How embarrassing. Slowly, the obviously clumsy -- the apron he'd donned over his black shirt was wet with blood and goodness knows what Rianthir had been doing prior to this -- youth sat up, brushing back long, stark white locks and pinning them back in place with a pair of hairpins. "…Um, I-I know a little, though my memory is foggy to say the least," he mumbled, wiping at the mud marring delicate features. Foggy was an understatement - with the memories of another person also present in his mind, Rianthir was having a hard time remembering things now. "B-But, I'll try my best…sir." Falling quiet, the Avian moved closer and took hold of the thin material Bastrien had apparently been attempting to use as a sling. "…Have you even splinted it yet?" An eyebrow rose.

Bastrien smiles at the Avian, actually stifling back a laugh. Falling had always been funny to him, raised since birth to fly above clumsy earthbound creatures. "Not yet. Now that I've had a chance to rest a moment, I don't think it's broken. But a splint would be a rather nice precaution." His eyes take in the form before him, and linger for a moment on the stain of blood. "And please, just call me Bast. I'm definetely not a 'sir'."

Rianthir may be a clumsy, daydreamer type person, but he knew when somebody found his inelegant antics amusing. The brow angled a little higher, though no comment was made. Instead, the slim male addressed the other's words quietly, losing a little of his timid demeanour in the process; though the cause was unknown. "Yes, I would splint it just in case…" Reaching into the enormous bag weighing him down on one hip -- filled with god knows what -- the Avian drew out a box of medical supplies, which had apparently been used recently, judging by the new bandage slinking up Rianthir's right forearm. Spots of fresh blood darkened the white material, but the youth never winced when he moved, nor even seemed to notice the wound. "Hold out your arm… and, 'Bast', I assume by your reaction you recognize me as Rianthir, then…" Stupid question, Rianthir.

Bastrien lets the youth take his arm, more confident in his abilities now that the supplies had been produced. "Yes, I recognize you. Cerinii-Raan told me of your induction into the Republic today. And you've all but saved me. You getting here when you did saved me alot of pain. I had no clue how I was gonna do this by myself." His speech becoming less formal as he relaxed, he leans back in the embrace of the soft ground and firm trunk at his back. He whistles three very bird-like notes, and the silence of the glade is broken by a sudden rustling. A black wyvern with hawk's wings descends from the trees, screeching at Rianthir. Reaching up just in time to grab the creature by it's serpent tail, he says, "Oliza, chill! He's helping." The wyvern retreats to the a low branch, coiling her body around it, calmed, but keeping a wary eye on the other Avian. Turning back to Rianthir, he says apologetically, "Sorry about that." Then raising his voice, "I -thought- she'd be smart enough to tell that you were helping me."

Rianthir quietly and calmly began the task of splinting and bandaging the injured arm, light, deft movements of thin fingers across light skin drawing out pathways for white material to follow; slowly but surely, the two shards of wood were pulled tight against the forearm, bandaging eventually tied off. "Hm, I doubt you would have gotten it done by yourself.." murmured the Avian bluntly, turning to reach for the makeshift sling. It was then that a shriek rent the silent air apart and Rianthir's long, pointed ears flattened almost horizontally in fright, mismatched gaze snapping up to meet the sharp stare of the wyvern shooting his way. Instinctively, thin hands reached for the mammoth sword strapped to his back -- honestly, how did he carry that thing around, let alone swing it? -- but Bastrien was quicker, and the soldier relaxed some. After a short pause, the Paladin's explanation taken in while bright eyes remained fixed on the bird, Rianthir released the hold on his sword hilt and went back to work. "At least your companion is protective," the youth commented, gesturing over his shoulder to a pillar of night apparently leaning against a nearby tree. "All that thing does is follow me around and generally irritate me." Where had that timid nature gone, one had to wonder? It appeared that Rianthir, when working hard, could be less of a klutz and more mature about things…

Bastrien breathes a sigh of actual relief as the splint is tied firmly in place. Very impressed with Rianthir's practical knowledge, he makes a mental note to ask him to share his skill at a later date. Once again, he'd been shown how much he relied on his magical healing, and how helpless he really was in short-term situations like this one. "Yeah," he said, looking over at Oliza. "She can be a little over-protective. But she means well." Shooting the wyvern one more glance of warning, he looks down again at the work being done on him. "She's been with me since my exile. The only thing left from that place that..." His voice trails off, obviously regretting talking about his home. "So," he says,hastily changing the subject. "Where did you learn to do all this." He raises his injured arm, the splint taking away all but a slight throbbing from the limb, and inspecting the nicely done job.

Rianthir, having finished tying off the sling but unsure of where exactly to move to, simply stayed where he was, kneeling before the other Avian and listening to him speak. There was a certain melody to Bastrien's voice that the soldier found delightfully captivating, and the male nodded slowly as he adjusted the apron in an idle manner. He wasn't used to wearing such domestic attire, but armour was expensive in these times and considering most of his had rusted away over the years, and this had been the first thing he'd found upon waking (other than women's clothes), Rianthir had decided not to let the poor abandoned clothing go to waste. Besides, his armour was antique when compared to Bastrien's or anyone else's. Deciding it was smarter not to question the other about 'that place' he'd been exiled from, the youth answered the question directed his way instead. A little of that timorous side returned now that his work was done, and Rianthir flustered slightly. "W-Well, even though we had Chai working with us, us Shim had to learn how to patch ourselves up, just in case. Besides, I'm not magically inclined at all; I-I'm allergic, actually. It makes me sneeze. So…it was a safety measure. And, I get beat up a lot. Not exactly built for fighting." Which was why he was carrying that -enormous- sword on his back.

Bastrien nods his head. He always liked straight forward answers. After a life of being given the run around, he found them almost comforting. "Of course. It makes sense. I'm still learning about the ways of the mainstream Avian's. We had no such thing where I'm from. Just the Empress. And those she favours." A scowl sets in on his face. 'There I go again...' he thought to himself. Turning the focus back to the present day, his features soften further at the mention of violence towards the one who had helped him. "Who would want to hurt you? Who could look at that sweet face and harbour any bad thoughts?" he said with a soft smile. Realizing that his mouth had moved faster than his mind again, he blushes and starts picking at the moss covering the ground with his good hand. "Um..." he starts, but turns away with a quiet nervous laugh. He opens his mouth as if to say something, but other than another quiet laugh, nothing comes out. Thoroughly embarrassed now, but for no -apparent- reason, his eyes stay on the ground between them as he asks in a small voice, "Would you like payment? I mean, I feel like I owe you."

Rianthir couldn't help but find how he was thought of as a 'mainstream Avian' quite hilarious, and smiled warmly; well, at least his appearance didn't give him away. "Your Empress sounds rather like ze arrogant bastard." The last two words held the hint of an accent the male never normally spoke with, and even he seemed a little surprised by its presence in his voice. "…The Timelord Vuryal. 'Arrogant bastard' was the name a…a friend called him." How to explain you had the thoughts and memories of another person you'd never met in your life to a near stranger? Lie, of course. Though, considering Zeneth felt similar to a friend to Rianthir, perhaps it wasn't such a terrible lie. All thought on that subject quickly flew out the window, however, at Bastrien's next words, and the soldier felt pallid cheeks light up pink. "I-I-I…!" Quickly, he lowered both gaze and head, burying his red face into his knees and arms. This was, quite honestly, the first time someone had ever said such a thing - you know, except his mother. He glanced up, briefly, to speak. "Um…well, other Sh-Shim and such, of course. The guys who are all about visible strength and muscle…they don't really like people like me. The-the fact I'm shy doesn't -- didn't -- help me one bit." Rianthir was rather amazed he hadn't stuttered more than that just now. "Eh? Oh…! Um, um, you don't n-need to pay me, no…" And then he trailed off, hiding scarlet features once more in the bloodied apron.

Bastrien looks back the ground. When he speaks again, his voice is quiet, yet unmistakaby filled with sorrow. "She only has the intrest of the people at heart. Having as much magic as her, one would find themselves split between the past...present...future..." Upon, saying this, he looks up to Oliza, who trills softly as if saying "Everything's Okay." Trying to nonchalantly wipe a tear away, and failing miserably, he turns his attention to the words of Rian. "I sympathize completely." He holds up one defined, yet very thin, arm. "Physical strength isn't my forté either. During my brief training, I was...harrassed...to say the least." His tone becoming more jovial, he laughs at a memory. Sighing, he turns to his new friend. "Thank you again for patching me up. I was in a little over my head with Reinhardh. But at least I held my own and came out in one piece! Nice to have a fellow Avian there too."

Rianthir glanced at his own, very feminine -- save the fact he was lacking curves in areas -- body, and sighed. Well, people could judge by the cover if they wished; it would be their own fault when they were later crushed by the surprising amount of strength this lanky frame contained. Deciding not to comment further on the Empress, for it confused him slightly, Rian instead focused on the tear making tracks down Bastrien's cheek, and with a soft frown, reached up to brush it away. He didn't say a word about it, though. "…Harassed, ah? S-Same here. Some people are just sick, demented...I could go on." There had been a few different types of harassment the other soldiers had particularly enjoyed, and the Avian shuddered at the memory, lips curling into a snarl so unfitting of those delicate features. That grimace quickly faded, however, at the other's laugh, scowl flattening into another warm smile. "Y-You're welcome, though you don't need to thank me. I was simply aiding you in the only way I can~." He'd leave out the fact he could also cook and clean very well for another time. "It…has been a while since I last spoke with another of my kind. A good…good few years, to say the least. So this is nice." More like 100,000.

Bastrien flinched slightly at the touch. Not because he found it unpleasant, quite the contrary, but because it had been so long since he had felt the touch of another Avian. At least, not one that had gone insane and was trying to rip his skin off. He actually caught himself leaning slightly into the touch. Snapped from his reverie by the words 'sick' and 'demented', two words he could honestly relate to, he says to Rian, "Well, I'm glad I could be the one you talked to." He was feeling...something. Something that bound his body and mind, but chose to put it out of his mind for now. Shaking his head as if to remove something, he struggles to his feet and stretches his wings, revealing the black, grey, and cream colours of his falcon heritage. "Well my friend, I'm desperately sorry for this, but I'm afraid I have to go." Offering Rian a hand he pulls him to his feet, suddenly his face inches away from the other's.

Rianthir found Bastrien's reaction to his touch somewhat endearing, and grinned in amusement. Though, at the same time, he did find it rather relaxing to touch another living being. It had been a while indeed. "Mm…so am I." The Avian nodded gently, as if agreeing with his own words. "The world has changed a lot since I last wandered its surface, so…it's nice to see that people are still kind." Rian had to admit that the suddenness of the other's departure saddened him some -- he would have been quite happy to sit in the darkness of the silent forest and talk until dawn -- but perhaps retreating to the safety of Kelay was a smart idea, lest he be mauled by wandering, hungry forest creatures. So he accepted the offered hand, was pulled to his feet, and rather abruptly into Bastrien's face. Freezing exactly where he was, Rianthir silently cursed whatever part of his body reacted to the other Avian's good looks and caused that scarlet blush, and then spoke, trying his best not to stutter and failing terribly. "W-Well…it w-was nice meeting you, s-sir-- I mean, B-Bast."

Bastrien smiles somewhat sadly. He too could have sat and talked til dawn. But alas, duty calls. "I'm certain we'll meet again." Blushing violently at his brazen motion, Bastrien closes the distance between them and kisses Rianthir fleetingly. Gone as quickly as it came, he steps back, jumbled apologies falling from his mouth. But he wasn't sorry. And the embarrassment he should have felt was absent. Instead, he simply felt warm. Smiling sheepishly and still blushing incredibly, Bastrien drags his fingertips across the other's as he walks out of the clearing and into the coming dawn.