[attr="class","burnt"]"Marsh and greenery alike ooze beneath her, anchored in her hand a thin, forearm-length twig tears through the mud ahead slowly without straying. Not until the makeshift detector strikes something does the huntress look away from the bright sky. She lets the stick remain there as she dons thick feathered gloves. Eyes, brow burdened with the beginning of beads of sweat, sweep blind spots as she crouches down closer to the marsh. Taking in one hand an unsheathed oxidised bronze dagger, the huntress maneuvers the blade carefully, beginning from where the twig had made contact. She continues helping the weapon make its way round until it returns to its beginning position. Now leaving her dagger in the soft earth, she reclaims the stick and, with care akin to that of a mother feline, ties the item to her back safely. Her hands open wide to lay her hands in the carved ground. She uncovers a little wooden box, its roughly hewn lid crusted with mud. Backing up slightly to allow for complete arm extension and maximum distance, Võ jabs a finger through the accumulated grime to grasp a minuscule bronze protrusion. A fast twist to the right allows her to draw out the unassumingly long pin. The wooden lid swings open; she catches the contents before they can crash into the ground. The huntress pockets the sealed seashell, an orange glow dancing within its near-opaque white walls. In its place she plants a fused bone, roughly comparable in size to a little pipe. The bone boasts a more intense glow within, managing to illuminate the box before being confined with a close of the lid. She reinserts the pin and, placing the box in its dug-in upright position, lightly kicks some soil back over it. Her blade returns to its tanned sheath and the huntress begins to walk backwards out of the marsh. She snaps her head east and rests a hand on her pocket, in response to the snapping of twigs as it grows louder and closer.
[attr="class","icf"]Horror and moral terror are your friends. If they are not, then they are enemies to be feared.
[attr=class,herkiss]The young devil hides her true face.
[attr=class,arabella]Amy Faye
[attr=class,passengerside]As it was for many of the Solarisclan, it was rare for Amy to venture into Toka Mocal without incredible cause to do so. Often, she might be asked by friends and family to collect ores with the Hunters when the task became too difficult without backup. Yet, that is not why she was here today. She was here just to explore, really. She had brought a map which she would occassionally mark waypoints on as she went along.
It was not terribly long into her journey where she ran into Võ, emerging from the bushes to her side. Despite her light steps, it seemed Võ had detected her. "Ah, Võ. Your instincts are remarkable," she commented with a slight chuckle, "Its no wonder we rarely have to worry about food with Hunters like you around."
Though she had excepted not to find anyone else here, she supposed a Hunter of Võ's caliber likely knew this place better than other members of Solaris. "What is it you're doing here? Care to stay for a picnic?"
[attr="class","burnt"]"She lowers her hand from her pocket and returns, from her previously lowered stance, upright. 'Due diligence. Practicing it.' The huntress answers. Slowly, she turns her body to match the direction east. 'When I leave these devices unattended, neglected, you understand--they lose more than simple potency. Gone from them, in that moment, is the quibble of security we, yourself and I, receive from their existence.' She had established a large network of mines around the territory, today only happened to be her designated Toka Mocal sweep. 'A boon it must be to encounter you.' Võ blinks slowly, a smile manages to show itself.
She strips off her feathered gloves and hide gaiters, both items only necessary for trekking in the swampy environment. 'To share food would be rather nice, I would not be so bold as to say anything I have on my person--My satchel of game is not limited so much as it is esoteric in taste. If that should be acceptable to you, then by all means, let us enjoy a meal beneath the canopy. Don't walk straight, from where you are now at least. Mines and the like.'
[attr="class","icf"]Horror and moral terror are your friends. If they are not, then they are enemies to be feared.
[attr=class,herkiss]The young devil hides her true face.
[attr=class,arabella]Amy Faye
[attr=class,passengerside] Amy acknowledged her comment with a nod, stepping carefully towards her. She looked to the ground and carefully noted her map as she made her way to Vo. "I am willing to try anything. In fact, I have pretty 'esoteric' tastes myself. I have brought water and a few staple vegetables, if that will suffice," she remained focused on the ground below her.
"I appreciate this, Vo, I really do. I have a mat too, if you know a place I can set it without losing a limb. I prefer to keep my body intact when I can."
[attr="class","burnt"]"She remembers to blink, just as much for her own sake as it is for Amy's. 'You can stop right there, place the mat down if you like. I believe there to be relatively mine-free.' Her voice spills from her mouth like it was the most natural mode of communication with the rest of her visage staying stone-still. She approaches the designated zone as well, retrieving from her satchel a large, folded leaf.
Unwrapping the leaf reveals several pieces of boar meat wrapped with different, smaller leaves and a couple herbs. 'Nem chua. A kind of preserved meat: sweet, sour, salty, and spicy.' From the satchel itself come multiple crystallized Mudah fruit, coated in various powders. 'This is ô mai mơ. I believe you call it candied fruit.' The huntress kneels down to arrange the food items neatly atop their leaf coverings on the mat.
[attr="class","icf"]Horror and moral terror are your friends. If they are not, then they are enemies to be feared.
[attr=class,herkiss]The young devil hides her true face.
[attr=class,arabella]Amy Faye
[attr=class,passengerside] Amy spread out a blanket out in the assigned location before marking on her map: 'picnic location w/ Võ <3' She then sat down criss-cross on the blanket and sighed in relief.
"Well, you have already impressed me with your selection, Võ. I am the host and I think you might have outdone me. Let's see..." She swung around her heavy sack from her back and opened it. She spent a few minutes sifting through her disorganized clutter, but eventually pulled out a jug of water, a few rations of rice and beans, some lettuce, three loaves of bread, and thin slices of raw beef. "I can cook it if you'd like," she clarified, "but I believe we share a similar magic, if my memory isn't failing me." She snapped her fingers and made a tiny spark of flame and offered Võ a hearty grin. "Maybe we can make some sandwiches with what we have?"
[attr="class","burnt"]"The corners of her mouth tweak surreptitiously upwards, by a few degrees. 'The patronage of a fighter such as yourself satisfies me so. Anything you have you willed to be acceptable for myself to consume alongside you is a boon.' The huntress pulls slightly at her red ascot, her voice fails to adjust as hoped. It changes in pitch lightly but the tone remains flat. 'Immolatory magick is most invaluable to more culinary endeavours, just as it is so to more combat-oriented ones.' Now, she removes the top from a waxed wooden cylinder, revealing an intricate layered design inside of gravel and various natural materials contained together. 'To look, in a vacuum, at our magicks, one could be--one could be forgiven for believing them to be near-identical. Myself, I certainly could not fault such an honest mistake. Very much so visually are the end results similar.' Crystalline water trickles through the endcap contraption into small stoneware cups. 'To isolate the main difference? Simply concern yourself with mechanism. Flame projection, perhaps the type example of our genus of magick. A straightforward stream of fire, generally. Therein is the mechanism through which one can securely classify them under fire magick wielder.' A slight heat gave some life to her mannerisms and tone. 'And what of other forces involving themselves in the action of magick, so then can categorisation be carried out without change? Surely not. My, I don't make much of a conversation partner, do I? Going, going, and going based on a tangent such as this. Apologies. Shall we make sandwiches, as suggested?'
[attr="class","icf"]Horror and moral terror are your friends. If they are not, then they are enemies to be feared.
[attr=class,herkiss]The young devil hides her true face.
[attr=class,arabella]Amy Faye
[attr=class,passengerside] After removing her glove, she set the meat on her left hand, engulfing in with intense, yet very small flames. "Don't worry, Vo. There is no clear line between banter and tangent. I would classify this as the former. Besides, it is an important discussion to determine how magical prowess comes about. A scientific mystery if you will. In fact, my boyfriend is very keen on that subject in particular. Maybe he'd be willing to do some experiments on you?" She giggled, "He's done his fair share on me."
As she finished scorching the meat beneath her hand, she quickly moved the meat from her hand to the bread beside her. "It seems like an oversight for natural selection to give us magic but no heat resistance. The damn thing burns." She finished preparing the sandwiches and handed one to Vo alongside a cup of water. "If you don't mind me prying, how does your magic work? Are we on that level yet?"
[attr="class","burnt"]"Noticing evidence toward a shared affinity for medium-rare, the huntress watches the flame dance atop the cooking morsel. 'I do not believe I have yet made the acquaintance of your significant other. Experimentation, research, all surely helpful to some end. But all beyond me, I must admit. I have aimed to be of a more pragmatic mind.' She looks closely at the cast-aside glove. 'These need to be two-layered, if you want to be able to keep them on and project flame. One layer, impermeable, greased for the fire to catch. The inner, permeable, resistant, to leach any heat away from your skin.' Demurely she wrenches her lips open again, to speak more. 'As to my particular kind of magick, it's more akin to targeted combustion, as opposed to emanation or projection. Unfortunate in that I am unable to use it for any culinary pursuits. It's likely unfair to dismiss the possibility but I am content with the uses I have for it.' Her other hand twirled a thin bronze pin delicately.
[attr="class","icf"]Horror and moral terror are your friends. If they are not, then they are enemies to be feared.
[attr=class,herkiss]The young devil hides her true face.
[attr=class,arabella]Amy Faye
[attr=class,passengerside] "Hmm, that sounds a good design, Vo," she looked impressed, "Perhaps it is time for an upgrade then. Though I rarely let the flames get so close to my skin since I do not do much cooking," she stared at the burns on her hand for a minute before quickly putting her glove back on. "Accidents do happen. Perhaps I should be more prepared for them." She looked over to her map for a brief moment before returning.
"Your magic seems very powerful. With something such as that, I am sure you'd make a powerful warrior if you so chose," she brought a hand to scratch her chin, "Yet you'd rather be a Hunter? Do you enjoy your job?"
[attr="class","burnt"]"The huntress's eyes drift for a moment. 'If conscripted to fight, I could, I have. Otherwise, perhaps I find solace in providing for the clan, to the best of my ability. To this end, after all, I am provided for by them. Would one say that for my toils in hunting beast, I know better the hunting of man? The methods, the discipline, are all the same.' She bites a piece of candied fruit. 'Do try them, I find the ruddy ones most flavourful. But, what of you? What tolls has the walk of a warrior taken upon you? In truth, my reasons likely point more inward, more selfish than my cleverness would allow me to hide.' Her hands brush off some sugar and residue on the sleeve of her top. 'Here, out of the trees, the air here on the ground begets a kind of clarity. Would that I were a warrior again-- No, perhaps not. It does not matter which clan, you could look at either and draw the same conclusion. There is a deep, generally unspoken respect between them. It runs more than centuries deep, if I am not mistaken. The crafters there, they respect the crafters here, the same for the hunters or menders. The warriors, too. So, to suggest true warfare, that would end only in the destruction of one clan and the supremacy of the other, is to open oneself to judgement. Neither I nor you could name the victors of past conflicts, past campaigns. It's cyclic, this. I wait, and I watch. I am here to aid the clan as a warrior when activated. But perhaps just not in the way they would want.'
[attr="class","icf"]Horror and moral terror are your friends. If they are not, then they are enemies to be feared.
[attr=class,herkiss]The young devil hides her true face.
[attr=class,arabella]Amy Faye
[attr=class,passengerside] "A tragedy it would be for the clans to go to war," she lied, "when we have been able to prosper in our time of peace." she took a bite of the candied berry. "Oh! That is tang-y. Kind of addicting though." She took another.
There are a few ways it ensure peace and prosperity forever, she thought. The complete annihilation of one clan would not be the worst option. Certainly much better than having to deal with the consequences of war over and over again.
"I have not spent too much time as a warrior, I'm afraid. I have only ever had to deal with worrisome Outsiders. No big wars or anything. It gets kind of boring sometimes, to be honest. And to be truly frank with you, I have recently lost contact with those who helped me stave that boredom."
Amy is very agreeable, so it was never hard for her to be friendly, but she always had a more difficult time creating more intimate bonds.
"So to answer your question, nothing too exciting as a Warrior. I have been beginning to wonder if I too should've been a Hunter. As you said, providing for a clan is rewarding work. Not so much screaming at Outsiders to 'get off our lawn' all day every day." she chuckled.
[attr="class","burnt"]"The cloth upon which the food had rested now revealed, to the two, its bright display of colours, with nothing left to obscure it. 'Boredom is not a state in which I choose to remain. I am occupied more often with terrible thinking. The outsiders do as they please, they wander within boundaries, without boundaries. Up until when did that clan of the night and stars, in our eyes, become so meekly differentiated from them? What I ask is not for a mere lesson in history, but a simple query: if no one truly has purchase to this land, as in no genuine claim, then why does the clan restrain itself, restrict itself in the ways it does.' The huntress pockets the bronze pin and dons the gloves again. 'I fear for I know that the warriors of this clan, on the whole, are mere fence posts given life by a invisible set of lines crafted in a hidden cave. But it is not my intention to deride that which you seem to uphold, truly.' Her hands slip under the cloth and squelch into the mud. 'I'm sorry. I can clean this for you later. Thank you for sharing a meal with me.' She strains for a moment, taking a breath before making a single, smooth pull. From beneath appears a small wooden box, identical to one of the ones she adjusted earlier. 'Still hot, keep a safe distance.' The pin returns and, wielded masterfully, fits into a well-hidden slot at the back of the box, which ceases the slight crackling resounding from within it. 'I had almost forgotten this one was here. The dishes when cleared did not remove enough weight to hit the threshold. So the magick continued to click until I caught it.' She smiles brightly, sweat dripping down her neck so naturally one would be forgiven for thinking she had just returned from a meditative dip in the swamp. From nervousness, from excitement, all possible, but the huntress would merely gesture towards the humidity. 'Keep it, if you like. To remember today with, perchance. I carve them all myself.'
[attr="class","icf"]Horror and moral terror are your friends. If they are not, then they are enemies to be feared.
[attr=class,herkiss]The young devil hides her true face.
[attr=class,arabella]Amy Faye
[attr=class,passengerside] "I don't think I've ever been called a fence post before. I'll take it as a compliment, I think," she veered her eyes towards the sun. "The only thing between us fence posts and expansion are the goddesses, I presume. I am not entirely sure myself how our relations have remained so strong these years. It is a miracle, really. I am thankful for it too as I have a warrior of Lunarisclan I'd rather not have to go toe to toe with if possible. A few, actually."
"Thank you again for the meal (though with all these mines, we almost became meals ourselves...). And your time too, of course," she said accepting the gift and handing her the cloth, "The laundry, too. You are too generous, Vo. If you ever need anything from a warrior, or just a friend, you know where to find me. I am always happy to help someone like you. Maybe I will come seeking you for another trinket in the future?"
[attr="class","burnt"]"Wiping the sweat from her neck, the huntress finishes storing, in meticulous order and with careful haste, all of her supplies. 'I think of the stories that may be told, later--far later. I know to expect your name among them. Walk along the gravel. It's harder to dig traps in there, anyhow.' She smiles, and retreats back, with a most peculiar zig-zag route, to the marsh brush with the cloth in hand.
[attr="class","icf"]Horror and moral terror are your friends. If they are not, then they are enemies to be feared.
Horror and moral terror are your friends. If they are not, then they are enemies to be feared.
![](https://i.imgur.com/NBPZJlK.png")
[attr=class,modernlover]