RP:The Girl She Left Behind

Hunter's Lodge

Orikahn is geared up yet again, though this time he has kept a close eye on his pridemate. This time, he won't be confounded by napping foxes and their shifting shapes. "And extra jerky," this little jab is the very last item on his packing list as he tucks a dried bundle in his medicine bag. Bedecked in his usual expedition accouterments (bow, quiver, furs, knife, tomahawk, wineskin, medicine bag, cloak and hood), the savage hunter stands ready to brave the treacherous wilds and ruins of Western Frostmaw.

Aira is a bit slower in getting ready, taking her time to pack her own bag with her meager possessions (which is pretty much nothing besides what she wears). She spends a moment braiding her hair over her shoulder, and relacing her boots up. When she stands she bounces on the balls of her feet before pulling her quiver over her head and stalking towards Kahn and patting his stomach. "Yeah, you need some extra jerky," she teases the great hunter, picking up her bow and pulling that across her body as well.

Orikahn resists violent urges when Aira touches his stomach, but the elf might know the cat well enough by now to see the impulse pass behind his eyes. "If I had a devil's head for every claw stayed..." Speaking of which! Kahn reaches up and takes his garland of skulls down off a rafter, plucking it from amid the bundles of drying herbs there hanging. This he affixes sturdily to his belt. It's taken the cat a bit of time to get his new bundle up to the old trophy's glory and, even now, there still seems to be a certain something missing about it. "You take the front," Kahn orders her, and a little too comfortably at that.

Aira sees that familiar look move behind Kahn's eyes but it only brings a smile to her lips and she eyes the hunter from head to foot and back again. "Yeah, I'd like to see you try," she taunts before moving to a hook near the door and throwing her cloak over her shoulders. Another moment's pause is given to pull the hood up to cover her head and vulpine ears before facing Orikahn once more and saluting him rigidly. "Yes sir!" She says before disappearing behind the flap and trudging out into the snow.

Orikahn trusts the fire to burn itself out. Throwing up his own hood (and ignoring his partner's jeers), the Prime Hunter follows Aira through the flap in into the frigid chill. The first deep breath is an invigorating blast to his senses, and it isn't long until the two are out of the camp and into the woods proper.

Aira is likewise invigorated by the first deep breath of cold air she takes and she cannot help but take a few skipping steps. She doesn’t even care if Kahn teases her for it; this hunter hasn't been out in quite some time and she is eager to get on with it, even if the prospect of ghost hunting isn't the most ideal. Her tail swishes beneath the cloak and Aira makes quick work of covering ground despite the snow.

Orikahn is grateful for the shelter of pines. He follows fairly closely, a sober shadow in the light of Aira's youthful antics. There's a bit more grey in his muzzle than when the pair first met outside the tavern many moons ago, and that isn't just a trick of the glare off the snow. Though they've crested the peak of summer and its long dog days, the birds haven't yet vanished southward, and the bouncy elf soon startles up a covey of grouse, their coos and fluttering melding into a noisy gibber that echoes noisily around them. Amid this chaos, there is a distinct "thump". A lonely bird falls in a puff of snow and does not rise. It's Kahn's turn to prance now, and he blows past her in excited strides, eager to study the snowdrift. Earthy feathers, crimson blood, and pure white snow all lay waiting in a stark three-way contrast.

Aira continues to scamper on in the snow, shaking her hood back so it falls off and her russet ears twitching freely. She even giggles although she quickly attempts to pass that off as a cough which she wonders is convincing enough. The high is rather young, although thinking on it she had a birthday recently that she missed. With a shrug, those unblinking copper eyes lift towards the heavens to get a good look at those birds only to fall back to the earth to see her companion making haste towards the fallen prey. Aira lets out a more genuine laugh now, full of amusement as she watches Kahn. "Well aren't you a kitten," she teases as she makes her way towards them.

Orikahn takes the bird and jerks his arrow out, stuffing the latter back in his quiver. For the grouse? He chucks the limp bird toward the vulpine lass. "And you're a cockle-burr with ears." It isn't very fair of Kahn; Aira seems to be in unusually good spirits. Perhaps the comment's more about her being stuck in his fur than her usual prickly attitude. "That's good fletching, if you have a keen eye." Indeed, several of the plain, speckled feathers in Kahn's quiver match perfectly. "Just don't lose your arrows." To emphasize this point, he looks back to the trees, trying to spot where the grouse have settled again, a task quite impossible.

Aira lets out a small squeal as Kahn aims the dead bird in her direction, not out of disgust, of course, but surprise. She catches it though, causing some blood to stain her sleeve. However, Kahn's words succeed in diminished that grin into her signature scowl and the huntress stuffs the bird into the game bag tied to her hip. The bow is peeled away from her body and an arrow taken from the quiver at her bed and knocked into place. No more words are spoken by Aira, instead, she focuses her eyes on the trees, looking for the slightest sense of movement to bring down her own bird.

Orikahn watches the smile vanish, and his eyes fall uneasily to the ground. He pulls his cloak a little tighter around the shoulders and takes the lead instead, trusting her to follow. In the great cat's movements, there's some otherworldlyness, a deliberate fluidity that makes "grace" seem to dainty a term. Even despite this, birds are creatures of keen sense, and it isn't long before the gobbles and flutters fill their ears again.

Aira doesn't argue when Kahn takes the lead, choosing instead to walk as normally as she can instead of frolic, vulpine ears twitching as she waits to catch the sound of one of the birds. Eventually it does and without a second though, Aira sends an arrow flying past Kahn's right ear and watches as it sails through the air and makes contact with the grouse perched on a branch.

Orikahn twitches said ear as the arrow sails past, and his head whips around, eyes glowing an eldritch emerald. His face is the calm before a tempest, but before the storm can blow up, the "fumt" of grouse meeting ground steals his attention forward once more, whipping Kahn's head around as quickly as it had whipped back to begin with. Fingers flex against the grip of his bow as the other birds retreat once more, this time for good, abandoning this patch of woods for somewhere far away from menacing arrows. And menacing scowls. There's still a tickle in the cat's right ear still tickles, and Kahn rubs it through his hood, rubbing the sensation away. If Aira's eyes are on him, she might catch a smug, toothy grin before he bounds westward, galloping down the neglected trail.

Aira's pupils flare when the bird falls to the ground, her tail giving a pleased twitch as she lowers her bow. Those eyes briefly shift towards the hunter and she catches that grin, wrinkling her nose in response. For now she trudges ahead at a quicker pace in order to intercept her kill which soon joins Kahn's in her game bag. Aira is just sheathing her arrow when she falls in step beside the prime hunter as they head west. "What's with the grin?" She finally asks with a raised brow.

Orikahn seems eager to cover ground, and he doesn't slow or wait for Aira as she hurries to fall into step. The grin vanishes when brought to his attention, replaced by something more stoic and firm. "Gah. Grrmm. Shouldn't your eyes be on the trail?" Speaking of which, the trees ahead already seem thinner, and between them, in faint glimpses, the gates of the dead city are already peeking. Above the treetops, the lonesome wind drones, murmuring a eulogy for sunken stones. When they break the treeline at last, the hunters will see the blue iron lattice standing beneath the oppressively featureless gray of an overcast sky. Kahn's fur bristles. "Juju," he mutters it like a solemn expletive.

Aira snorts in disbelief as Kahn refuses to give her a straight answer, instead moving her eyes back to the trail as she mutters in elvish under her breath, most likely saying something about stubborn cats. As they walk, she attempts to make conversation. "How are you with a knife? My blade skills are lacking." It's simple conversation and more on task to what they were doing. As they approach the city of the dead, Aira's ears flatten and the small, pale hairs along her arm stand on end despite being covered. There is a tightness in her chest now and the scowl on her lips has nothing to do with the prime hunter any longer. "Lots of Juju..." she agrees quietly.

Orikahn knows the path by now, as does Aira, and juju or no, the two make their way through the ancient city. Where once the welcome sounds of nature had risen to greet them, an horrible emptiness fills their ears, and the solitude of their thoughts fills the seemingly endless expanse of silence. Kahn is obviously on edge, and he walks with his bow at quarter draw, eyes moving rapidly and incessantly, leaving no avenue of approach unnoticed. He is paranoid, and perhaps for good reason, as glimpses and half-faces seem to linger in every shadow.

Staring Spirits

Aira's heart thuds so loudly in her chest that it echoes in her ear. With an exhale, she gently grasps Kahn's elbow. "I'll go first," she says quietly, not wanting to disturb whatever or whoever is there. The prime hunter had been correct, this was her task left unfinished and she would be able to see the shadow people before Kahn good. Aira didn't draw her weapon and instead eased forward.

Orikahn remembers his last trip to the empty city, especially the grisly ending. Not about to abandon his weapons quite yet, he follows Aira into the derelict home. The cat's eyes slide to the piano charm hung 'round the elven girl's neck, and on cue, he can spot the decrepit piano around the corner. Surely, beneath the cover of fur, his knuckles would be white as they clench his bowstring, but how much good can an arrow do against creatures of the spirit world? He might have been better off with a glass of his shamanic tea...

Aira swallows hard and steps back into that familiar home, her head peaking around the corner looking for any sign of movement. Her footfalls echo around the abandoned house, her tracks leaving indents in the layer of dust that coat the floor. The huntress nips at her bottom lip as she spies that broken piano, her hand unconsciously moving towards her neck, digits wrapping around the cool metal of charm. With a knowing look at Kahn she moves towards the instrument and sits on the fractured bench. "Back when I lived in Rynvale, the piano was my only solace," she says quietly, fingers brushing the broken ivory keys. "My betrothed knew this and of course not wanting to see me have any happiness, he bid me to set my beloved instrument ablaze otherwise he would break my hand so I couldn't play at all." Aira wasn't sure why she was telling Kahn this--maybe it was just because she found the silence so oppressive. Slowly, the huntress begins to play a rusty lullaby, eerie notes drifting from piano as she does.

Orikahn posts himself at the corner as Aira ventures toward the piano, hoping to allow himself as many sight lines as he can manage. The elf's voice is like a cymbal crash when she finally decides to speak, and the prime hunter's breath stills in his lungs, fur prickling yet again as she opens her past to him. His ordinary eyes narrow in confusion, but, seemingly of its own will, his third eye opens wide and glows with eager light. "Is that what what this is about?" The harsh whisper isn't some kind of rhetorical condemnation. It's an honest question.

Aira doesn't answer Orikahn right away, opting instead to continue with her story. "Naturally, I did what he said, set the thing on fire. He made me sit there and watch until it turned to ash and all the while, he laughed." Aira sighs, still pinging away at her tune, occasionally shifting her gaze to look for the familiar ghost girl. "You know what he did when it was done?" She asks, finally looking at the prime hunter and continuing on before he can respond. "He broke all of my fingers," she says, her song suddenly halting as a shadow moves in her peripheral vision. "It's okay, you can come out," she falls towards the corner, turning on her bench to face Shadow Girl.

Orikahn listens, the corners of his mouth slowly turning downward. As the playing and the story continue, the grip on his bow slowly relaxes until Aira's question can catch him off guard. How am I supposed to know, his eyes say. The ending makes Kahn's nose wrinkle. What's this! With a creak of sudden tension, his bow is back up and drawn, arrow perched and ready to pierce through... a shadow. Ah, right. "You called her out," the prime hunter notes, impressed.

Aira shifts her gaze towards Kahn in his tense stance, his useless arrow at the ready and she cannot help but give him a little smirk. "Always the tone of surprise," she says before her attention goes back to the corner where the little ghost girl peers apprehensively at the huntress and prime hunter in turn. Aira doesn't approach, not yet. Much like when she is stalking prey in the woods, she does not wish to startle the girl and have her go so quickly. Everything is quiet for a few moments before Aira hears the whisper of a voice. "She said she's surprised we came back," Aira offers to Kahn in order to keep him in the know of conversation. "After last time."

Orikahn relaxes his bow arm again and sends Aira a humorless glance. "Your hunt," he reminds his packmate, "not mine." On this note, Kahn follows Aira's cue and doesn't move from where he's chosen to perch, instead peering this way and that to make sure that nothing is sneaking up to catch them unaware. Would he even be able to tell? "Is she," Kahn grumbles absentmindedly, more of a comment than a question. The fur down his neck stands on end for what must be the two dozenth time since they wandered into the broken, ancient stones. "What else does she say?"

"Our hunt," Aira corrects. "I just take the lead on this one." The huntress twists on the uneven bench to face the shadowy figure who seemed a to be shifting uneasily, or so it seemed from Aira's perspective. "She says you're a cute little kitty," she informs Kahn with another smirk. It wasn't true, but she couldn't resist taking a jab at him when it was so readily available. She waits for Shadow Girl to talk after that but when it doesn't come she attempts to prompt her into speech. "Why are you still here? Among the living?" The answer doesn't come right away but when it does Aira frowns. "She said she's still stuck."

Orikahn raises a brow at the elf's correction. "Your hunt," he rumbles a mutter, repeating himself insistently. The sound of the scooting bench prompts him to crouch lower and, to save his leg strength, the great cat drops to one knee, allowing himself to rest a moment during the exchange. "And she says you're a frogfish," Kahn fires back, stealing side glances at the shadow girl but not yet daring to let his attention to rest solely on her. He's taking his lookout role quite seriously right now, and beneath his hood, his third eye glows brightly enough to illuminate his whole face. "Stuck?" Orikahn echoes back. "What's keeping her? She didn't do something evil, did she?" This last bit is a moody precaution. If this shadow girl got herself into an afterlife conundrum, Kahn doubts they ought to be helping her out of it.

Aira rolls her eyes at Kahn's response but doesn't dignify it with a response. Instead she leans forward slightly to tuck her tented leg under her rump, another attempt to seem relaxed and at ease so as to not frighten the Shadow Girl. It was hard to assess the age of a spiritual being but if Aira had to guess she was probably between eight and twelve when she passed. "No she's not evil," Aira snaps at the prime hunter. Call it intuition, by the elf had a sense about the these things. Her tail swished idly and her ears flicked as she watched the girl take a few steps closer to the piano. "She says..." Aira frowns even deeper, swallowing hard. "She said a her family left her," the huntress finally says, her voice cracking slightly.

Orikahn can take Aira at her word (for once) and accepts the shadow girl isn't some kind of miscreant spirit or devil in disguise. Now that the shady ghost has come out of hiding, Kahn dares to give it a glancing over. It's a quick assessment, as a fresh batch of shivers shoots straight from the tip of his nose to the tip of his tail and interrupts the feline's scrutiny. Dealing with dead spirits is no trivial matter, and something in his very fiber strains to reject the encounter. "Left her?" Cocking his head to one side, Kahn tries to imagine how many eons she's waited in the deserted rubble like this, and he must quickly abandon the thought. His nares flare, and Kahn forces himself to take a slow, frosty breath. "Is that why she's here?"

Aira is likewise feeling a chill that she suspects has nothing to do with the temperature but rather the task at hand. The huntress hugs her arms around her chest and breathes out a heavy sigh, rubbing her upper arms with slightly shaking hands. "Yes. They left her here and she's been waiting for them to come back for her. They..." Aira swallows hard again and lowers her gaze to the ground. "They ran away from something and left her behind."

Orikahn watches Aira's breath billow out and away and... through... their incorporeal companion. "Away from what," Kahn's expression darkens. Whatever the crux of this particular matter may be, something in old Kahn's gut says they're about to close their fingers around it. Reaching up, he pulls his hood closer around himself, keeping his cloak tight and snug upon his shoulders. The prime hunter was used to Frostmaw's stinging chill, but there's something about the ruined city that seems to bite just a little deeper...

Aira gnaws on the inside of her cheek anxiously, quite forgetting about her sharpened canines and shredding the tender flesh so that the sudden taste of copper makes her realize she has drawn blood. The heavy silence that hangs in the old abandoned house is quite deafening, the sound of the whistling wind echoing around the house as it invades the cracks of the home and through the broken windows. Shadow Girl only says one word before disappearing as quickly as she came. Aira stares at the spot where she stood before turning back to Kahn. "Them," she says in a voice barely above a whisper.

Orikahn perks up at the smell of fresh blood, nares flaring wide, the perilous press of chill and gloom momentarily forgotten as the familiar scent clouds his senses. Momentarily. Amid vanishing shadows and ominous whispers, the prime hunter's senses shift gears yet again. Something is worse than before, and things weren't too peachy in the first place. The adrenaline is already pumping, and the seconds that follow stretch themselves to bizarre proportions. His eyes meet Aira's.

Aira is on her feet as soon as Kahn catches her eye, spatting blood on the floor as quick strides take her to the prime hunter and her hand reaches for his elbow. "Let's go," she says suddenly, her voice hollow as a shiver runs down her spine. "Please Kahn," she says with a bit of desperation in her voice." The last time the paid this place a visit, things didn't end well for the packmates. Shadow Girl's ominous warning and sudden disappearance didn't sit well with the huntress and she was eager to put as much distance between them and the ruins as possible.

Orikahn hesitates, his attention oscillating between Aira and the spot where her ghostly companion had stood. "That's it," the massive cat badgers her, "we leave?" If they're so very far out of their league, why did she agree to come here in the first place? Already, he's backing up one pace, two paces, warming up to move faster, but still... "We run?"

Aira let's her hand fall from Kahn and moves towards the door and steps out of the shelter of the ruins. "Please come with me," she says again, more urgently now. She didn't want to leave him but she was uncomfortable staying. "Shadow Girl is gone, she's not coming back, not today." Aira waits for Kahn to (hopefully) join her. "We camp outside of the city and return tomorrow," she continues. Aira didn't know where those words came from but it was getting darker and she didn't want to be here when night completely fell.

Orikahn gives up on questions and takes the elf's urgency seriously. "Alright." Turning with a muted 'swish', the massive cat doesn't wait for any further prompt and begins the treacherous walk back out of the accursed rubble. A frigid moon is already on the rise, its pale glow setting an eerie contrast against the receding sun's twilight glow. Beneath what feels like a thousand eyes, Kahn hurries, matching whatever pace Aira sets, scarcely daring to speak until the oppressive haunts are far, far behind both hunters.

Aira doesn't say anything as she leads the way out of the rubble, keeping her pace quick so that her breathing was heavy; if she could keep her weapons and change to a fox she would do that but alas she couldn't have it both ways. Finally, when the moon is nearly high in the sky Aira stops and sinks to her knees, not caring about the cold wetness that seeps into her clothes. The huntress was pale, looking as if she was falling ill.

Orikahn can feel the sting in his lungs, yes, but there's road yet ahead, and he doesn't notice immediately when Aira drops off. Several paces up, he pauses, halts in his tracks, turns around and bounds back to her. Whatever horrible fatigue has seized Aira, Kahn appears unaffected, and he studies her pale, sickly face with confusion, then disdain. Not about to let her freeze in a lonely snowbank, the prime hunter stoops and to wrap an arm around her shoulder. "If you think we're stopping here, you've got another thing coming." His eyes look for hers but then, try though he might, the stern mask falters, revealing the concern behind his gruff reprimands. "I'll drag you if I have to."

Aira is rather like a rag doll, weakened by some unseen force and she gives her head a small shake as Kahn's arm encircles her shoulders. "I don't feel so well..." she manages to get out before ducking out from under Kahn and moving to the side of the road to retch. The huntress couldn't explain this sudden illness that seemed to overtake her but she had a feeling it was her own guilt manifesting physically within her. "Go ahead," she calls to Kahn over her shoulder. "I'll catch up," she says in a half hearted attempt to mean what she says.

Orikahn startles when Aira suddenly ducks away, but the reason is soon enough apparent. He affords her little real decency, staring overtly as she vomits on the roadside, blinking slowly and bearing the chilly wait with newfound patience. "You know it doesn't work that way," the saber cat rejects the suggestion with an added shake of his head, though Aira's likely too busy to catch the gesture. Some tense noise of objection rumbles out of him, and he reaches to root around in his medicine bag, his great mitt fishing around. "Are you really that sick?"

Aira takes a handful of snow and stuffs it in her mouth, allowing it melt so she can swish the water in her mouth and spit once more. "I don't know what's wrong," she says, allowing her eyes to flutter closed as she takes a few gulps of cold air. She's wasn't entirely lying to the prime hunter at least. "I just don't feel right," she offers in an apologetic tone. "I'll be fine though, you go," she offers again.

Orikahn pauses, his frown deepening, and he releases the medicine back to dangle back into place. "You're delirious," he accuses her, "if you think you'll get rid of me that easily." If he isn't going to get a straight story, that limits his options. Kahn uses the corner of his cloak to dust the snow off a nearby rock, and there he sits. There's the squeak-pop of a cork, and the familiar smell of grog stains the air. Legs crossed, whiskers pert, Orikahn nurses his own nerves while he waits for Aira to either find her center or, perhaps as likely given her present state, pass out.

Aira doesn't feel like she can stand much longer and the smell of grog makes her stomach churn again. She turns her head to retch once more but there is nothing left in her stomach so only bile comes up, burning her throat. Moving away from the side of the road, Aira sinks down to the ground once more. It's a curious feeling--a rush of heat permeates her body but she is shivering and her skin is clammy to the touch. While internally her cheeks feel hot and flushed, they are pale and even her freckles seem transparent. A wave of dizziness overcomes her and she squeezes her eyes shut to keep the wilderness from spinning. What was happening? Why was she so ill so suddenly? "I don't know what's happening..." she confesses in a muffled voice.

Orikahn lets this carry on for a while. It isn't log before his sip of grog begins permeating through, and the cork squeaks back into place. "Neither do I," Orikahn confesses as he stands and walks over to the collapsed Aira, "so we might as well get moving." This time, Aira will have to put up some fight if she wants to escape being man-handled. It wouldn't be the first time Kahn's scooped her up, and it almost certainly won’t be the last. Should he prove successful, the massive cat hoists her up so her head can lay over his shoulder, encouraging any vomit to spill down the back of his cloak.

Normally, Aira would probably put up a fight, not wanting to seem weak or dependent. However, at the moment she is precisely those things which is why she remains complacent to his hoisting her up into his arms. She doesn't even scowl, instead keeping her eyes closed and leaning her head against Kahn's shoulder. Aira's vulpine ears lay flat against her head and she shivers slightly. "If you want to kill me, now's your chance," she croaks out.

Orikahn is already trudging eastward. Now that she isn't struggling, Kahn can carry her a little less securely and more comfortably, wrapping her shivering body in what increasingly resembles a warm, snug embrace. "If I wanted to kill you," he grumbles back, "I would have left you on the ground." Remembering the setting sun, Kahn picks up his pace, padding briskly over the snowy stones. Lucky for the both of them, the prime hunter remembers a shelter nearby.

Aira manages a breathy sound that vaguely resembles a snort of amusement--the best she can do given the circumstances. As Kahn wraps her in a warm embrace, she leans further into him to leach some warmth from the cat. "I guess hunting partners are hard to come by," she mumbles once more. She was exhausted, she wanting nothing more than to give in and allow herself to nod off but for some reason she willed herself to stay conscious. "If danger comes, leave me and you go."

Royal Academy of Aramoth

Orikahn hurries through the deepening cold, silently grateful for Aira's shared heat as he bounds along. As the first stars are emerging, as the oppressive pall of night settles firmly over them and the gloom of moonlit darkness swallows the frozen land, Orikahn slips at last through the massive, lonely doors leading into the Royal Academy of Aramoth. A drift of snow blows in after them before he can pull the door shut again with an echoing clack. On busier days, the strange western outpost was a hive of activity, but now, in the dead of night, without clan or guild to keep them company, Kahn and Aira find themselves alone in the vast and dismal halls, greeted only by the perpetual light of magical lanterns. "Here," Orikahn treads a little farther in, peering through the hall, double checking for any sign of life before carefully kneeling himself down on the warm stone tiles. He doesn't evict Aira from his hold, but if she moves to free herself, he makes no struggle against her wishes. "Safe here, I think."

Aira keeps her eyes closed as Kahn's pace quickens as the darkness deepens around them. Only once she hears them enter some type of structure does she peek a copper eyes open. She takes in as much as she can before looking into Kahn's face; she didn't look any better but she didn't look worse either, and she hadn't vomited since the last bout of nausea. "What are we?" She asks, reaching up a shaky hand to unfasten the cloak from her throat, having remained in Kahn's arms.

Orikahn glances down at Aira, the glow of his eyes unusually apparent in the magically-lit refuge. "Hmm? *Where?* A civic building," he turns his head a little so his saber fangs aren't poking near Aira's face, "tied to city somehow. Flew out of here on a dragon once." His story is a mild exaggeration; it was a mere drake.

Aira pulls her head back and fixes Kahn with the most quizzical expression she can muster, her nose wrinkling slightly. “You flew out of here,” she repeats in an unsure tone. “On a dragon?” She is half amused by the visual this story invokes and it shows in the half smile curved on her lips. “Must have been some trip."

Orikahn raises his brows, nodding beneath the frosty silk of his hood. "Some trip," he echoes back, his deep bass echoing through the gloomy pillars. Kahn shakes with a chuckle, bouncing Aira against the thick fur of his chest, and he hisses through his teeth. "I'm grateful it was in a basket. Gods mercifully willing, it will be last and only flight." The mighty cat ends up catching a glimpse of her half smile. "Oh?" A dry look crosses his face. "And suppose I shipped you off in a basket on a dragon's back? Hmm?" After the night's events, the threat rings very hollow indeed. Kahn hasn't yet set Aira down.

Aira hums thoughtfully at Kahn’s posed question and fixes him with that unblinking copper stare of hers. “I wouldn’t have hid in the basket,” she answers truthfully, although she cannot help take another dig at her packmate once more. “The exhilaration of flying? I can only imagine how amazing that must be.” Aira tilts her head to the side in contemplation for a moment before adding, “although traveling by boat will always be my favorite, I think."

Orikahn knows when he's being ribbed, and Aira risks being dumped unceremoniously on the floor. But then. "Hmm?" Beneath the hood's sheer fabric, the hunter's ears perk. "By boat?" Relaxing his grip, Orikahn tries to set the elf down a bit more carefully. "And what do you know about boats, you wee sickling? Nothing I've taught you!"

Aira eases herself out of Kahn’s arms and tentatively tests the strength of her legs but quickly grabs the nearest piece of furniture to help keep her upright. “Well, it’s certainly hard to go on a boat up here in Frostmaw,” she says sarcastically. “You forget I am from Rynvale,” she reminds him. “My family used to go out on boats all the time. Admittedly, when I could chance it, I would sneak out on the water myself, but those moments were few and far between." She pauses for a moment to raise an eyebrow at Kahn. "What do you know about boats, Kitty?"

Orikahn hasn't kept Aira's land of origin at the forefront of his mind, but he hasn't quite forgotten either, and he hums agreeably along as the elf elaborates on her past. "So you like boats then." It's quite easy to tell that this pleases old Kahn, and he strokes and scratches at his chin. "I know everything about boats," the cat brags, "mighty boats. For catching fish. For hunting whales!" At this last, Orikahn thumps his chest proudly. "Boats for warriors and mighty people of the sea." At this last, a dismayed frown bends his maw, and he must take a deep, grounding breath.

Aira locates a small side table not far from where she stands and edges her way towards it slowly, before hoisting herself up so that she can perch atop it. “Maybe we should consider a vacation from the cold. Go out to sea and do some hunting out there. I wouldn’t mind adding a whale next to my mammoth.” Aira is still a little shaky and pale, but no longer retching at least. Still, she notices Kahn’s frown and she mimics it. “What’s wrong? Do you not like boats anymore?"

Orikahn considers this suggestion. It has been some time since he enjoyed the warmer weather, and the bitter fangs of Frostmaw's winter would soon be upon them both. Perhaps a taste of the tropics would suit him well. Surfacing up from his thoughts, like a diver rushing for air, he snaps out of a reverie and back into the moment, just in time to watch the quavering Aira wobble her way onto a table top. At first, her question puzzles him, and he wrinkles his nose, ears slicking back. A second later, though, the frown gives away the riddle. "Oh." Kahn rumbles, his realization falling flat. He looks down at his feet and starts picking the ice from between the pads. "I like boats very much," he answers back, sounding oddly earnest. "I was only thinking of my people, little vixen. The shadows of the past weigh heavy on old Kahn's heart."

Aira swings her legs slightly her hands idly moving through her vulpine tail to smooth out some tangles she had there. When Kahn speaks again she lets out a snort. “You always refer to yourself as old. Are you even old?” She questions thinking of her own age. She was born in the summer and had missed her last birthday. How long had she been gone from home? Two years now? The guilt the huntress had been feeling earlier crashed over her once more and manifested as a shudder. “What were your people like?” She asks, looking for a distraction.

Orikahn furrows his brow and pulls back his hood, sending Aira a perplexed, annoyed look. "Yes," it feels so pedantic to clarify an answer of such simple honesty. Leaving that at that, he's free to drift yet again, like a boat cut loose, and Aira's questions only serve to shove him further into the lagoon of years long past. "Strong and savage like me," he recounts, "with handsome fangs and sleek coats that gleamed in the tropical sun. We were an island people, a proud people, who fished and hunted in the green, green jungles beneath the smoky mountains. Every morning, I would go fishing..."

Unfortunately for Kahn, now Aira is extremely curious about his age. Fortunately for him, she doesn’t push it, at least for now. “I loved to fish,” she says, eyes flaring as her own mind drifts towards her time on the sea in Rynvale. “My parents didn’t approve of course. Ladies of their house didn’t fish.” Aira sighs, scowling at the memories of the rules of her house and gives her head a firm shake. “What happened to them?” She asks without really thinking about the consequences of such a question.

Orikahn eyes Aira with thinly veiled amusement. Ladies of the house indeed! This is the same hunter he taught to gut a mare. Could life in her Rynvale home really be so alien? While the hunter is making silent notes to plan more fishing excursions, the vixen goes on. "Ah," his people, yes. Orikan goes solemn, and he looks away. Several beats of silence pass. He buries his face in his hands. "I had wives and strong sons," he begins. A long breath follows. "An early morning, Aira, I went to fish, Aira, I went far out to fish, and I saw the smoky mountains fall in flames, Aira..." This last is little more than a mutter, a whisper that might not have reached the elf save for her vulpine ears...

Aira is on her feet at once, before she knows what she is doing, and she sways slightly as she tries to gain her balance. Really it was the anguish that seems to have overcome that prime hunter that caused her to move; his face in his hands, the final whisper. Her own hands gently wrap around his wrists, not forcing his hand but letting him know she was there. “I’m sorry, Kahn,” and for the first time, possibly ever, her voice has no semblance of anger or harshness, but rather it is soft and genuine. “We don’t have to go fishing,” she offers.

Orikahn feels the hands on his wrists like hands on the wrists of a body far away, one that is not his. "I saw the mountain fall in flames, and I heard the roaring calls, the cries of cubs, my cubs," was it the grog? The shadow girl? Some strange enchantment of this lonely place? "Why am I telling you? Why do you care? Who knows my people? Who but Kahn?" Pulling his hands away from his face, he looks up, surprised to find Aira's kind eyes to greet him, surprised to find tears staining the dark fur of his face. How quickly the memories had come upon him.

Aira is just as surprised when Kahn pulls his hands away to find the tear-stained fur near his eyes and it does nothing to settle her. “I can’t even imagine—“ she begins, frowning at the thought of the pain that the experience must have caused him. “Why do I care?” She asks surprised, letting her hands fall away from his wrists. Aira shifted on her feet, glancing over her shoulder before look back into Kahn’s face. She wasn’t good with these conversations, she never thought she would have one with Kahn of all people. Aira presses her lips together as she considers an appropriate answer. “Because you matter to me,” she says with a slight shrug.

Orikahn tries to find his balance on the teetering draw and release of measured breaths. The world is still, his senses keen, but his heart shrieks with anguish long unspoken, and there is little he can do to quiet it. "Aira," somewhere through he maddening haze, the elf's words reach him, and he can cling to something, like a scrap of wreckage, a bit of flotsam amid the wreckage. "Aira, come near me," he asks, no harsh insult hidden in his tone, no gruff edge to greet her. "Look at me, look at us, what fools, what fools, why..." All three eyes squeeze shut, "why."

Aira does not hesitate when Kahn bids her to come closer to him, and she does so as soon as the request leaves his lips. Even at his kneeled position, Aira isn’t much taller than him and she reaches out to scritch his ears as a physical reminder that she is here. “What broken fools,” she corrects him with a half smile.

Orikahn presses his head gratefully into her, his brow touching her chest, his lungs filling yet again with breath that seems to do nothing for his inner peace. Her fingers find his ears, and a sound of relief escapes him, something between a rumble and a sigh. His great head nuzzles closer. His hands helplessly clench and unclench, searching the thin air for something anything, until, finding mere vapor grants him no comfort, he reaches to lay his broad mitts on Aira, pulling her closer.