The thick canopies stunk of nostalgia. The way pine sap clings to the air, the rustle of fowl and other game living in harmony in the safety of shadows cast by the lords of the forest. Of all places, this is where spirits dwelled the most, the traveler figured. To Sonam, the forest was a place that described nature and her beliefs so perfectly. The circle of life was kept in balance so sweetly here, from the grass that fed the gentlefolk of the woods, the deer, and rabbits. To the predators that ate those beings, the sly snake, to the predatory wolf, and from there the even larger predators such as bears. Finally was the reclamation, as beings deceased they were fed upon, and gave life to fungi which nourished the soil. This was the primal element of man, before he hungered and ate away at that peace. [break][break] The traveler was simply garbed, a loose red shirt with no sleeves that hung past his waist, simple white pants that ended in socks and lightly padded sandals. His “home” of belongings sat soundly on his shoulders as he navigated the forest with relative ease. His senses were aware, as he moved through the brush. Gently and passing peacefully through the foliage so as to not disturb those who made their homes here. His fingers picked at berries as he walked, a small pouch becoming their new home. His bow was slack on his shoulder, ready to slide down and be used as a moment’s notice. While respectful of the life that resided here, awareness that he was an outsider to the spirits kept him on alert. [break][break] On finding a small clearing, where the sun pierced through the foliage, soft green blades in a circle seemed to make a good resting spot. Not necessarily shrouded, but the golden waves felt relaxing amidst the lords of the forest. He sat cross legged and placed his pack next to him, a small roll of kindingly, striking stones and jagged stones that built next to each other soundly so as to not cause a leap of flame to scorch the surrounding area. Strike, strike, strike. Woosh A small crackling flame of vibrant yellows and oranges danced in the circle pit, a tool of metal was sprung open and sat soundly over the flame. An ornate, small teapot, followed by a blend of herbs, spice, and dried fruit was placed into the slowly bubbling water as the man relaxed. Taking in the surroundings. He grabbed a cup that matched the teapot, followed by another. Along with the pouch of ripe blackberries in case a friend, either human or animal arrived. His bow was placed to his side for easy access if necessary, and the man placed his pouch atop his walking staff. [break][break] The small campsite was serene, the soft crackling of flame, and the subtle scent of tea mingled gently in the midst of it all. Today would be good, as life was good.
Night was a different kind of world. One where her kind flourished and came into their right. Years of dedicated training went ahead of it and after that years of further training would be required to be able to dub yourself a master in your art. Sayuri moved through the woods silently and to the world, she might as well have been a shadow for none were here to observe her.
It was perhaps her favorite time of day when the sun kissed the horizon and painted the sky in a myriad of warm colors. Rather poetic how both of the beginnings were marked with such a display.
Sayuri had been on a simple patrol and was now headed home with nothing of note to report. And so she was clad in the form-fitted black garments with the grey knee-length tunic, and the spotted collar. Usually, her face would be obscured by the black mask and headband, but she had pulled it back to feel the fresh air better. Her hair spilled past her uniform in a long ponytail. A cup of tea and a few pages of her book would make for the perfect ending of this day.
However, it seemed she would not get to go home quite yet.
Firelight and the rustling definitely not belonging to the animal dwellers of the forest caught her attention and she would seek refuge in the long evening shadows, pausing behind a tree, depending on the foliage to keep her mostly hidden as she managed a better look at whoever was in the clearing.
A man.
Nothing more... And yet a man was not always friendly. However, this one carried no sword or sign of being from the Empire. However, they spied on them, so why would they not do the same? Engaging in combat was never a good move unless it was necessary. She could investigate further, but perhaps broadcasting her loyalties wasn't the smartest choice. A quick outfit change would be done. The collar was shimmied down to fit around her waist, the upper part of the tunic she took her arms out of and let it roll over the belt and collar. Great. Now she just looked like someone with horrible fashion sense! Hopefully, her hair would cover the mask and metal plate.
"That is a mighty fine fire you have there. Mind if I warm myself by it for a spell?"
She batted her eyes at the stranger, a small smile playing on her lips, her hands laid gently on top of each other at her front. Could she possibly make this chunky skirt look any less as if it had belonged to a forest witch?
That unnerving sense that someone, something, was watching is an aspect only amplified but such a dense forest. Yet… It was a natural experience of the realm he found himself in, and remained nonplussed. Instinct, in the very foundation of humanity, is a lie told by a fearful body. So the rural traveler remained seated, the water in his pot entering a stage of perfect warmth, quickly poured in a small ceramic cup unadorned with fancy symbology, it was just a cup. Meanwhile another appeared, a woman smiling, asking to join him. [break][break]
Sonam took a small sip of the tea, making sure the flavor was adequate enough to offer. Her own smile directed towards Sonam was met by a smile of his own. Come, come. I’ve just finished brewing a tea you’re more than welcome to.” The man's voice was calm, welcoming, not a voice of confident to hold something untoward within, just welcoming. He smiled, his naivety of the lands was almost brought to the surface, unaware of the proximity of war, spies, and death (relatively speaking). He placed the cup on a small, smooth rock, quickly assured it was balanced as he went to work. [break][break]
The traveler dug for another cup in his bag (one would never know when the did have quests), perfectly placed at a height making it so he didn’t have to stand before going to work, filling it as the swirling opaque tanned color steamed from the mouth of the vessel. ”Unfortunately I didn’t bring milk or sugar, a guest was unexpected, and you’ve caught me at a disadvantage. Though I do have some local blackberries if some sweetness would help.” The lack of comforting additives was merely a part of his lifestyle, preferring a natural brew, supplementing the fact his home on was worn on his back. A pouch could only hold so much. [break][break]
The man placed the teapot on the ground next to his own cup of warming liquid to prevent it from boiling, not wanting to douse the fire. Standing, a slightly above average man in height, an even six foot, and a body simply muscled from constant movement, a well diet, and sleeping on the hard ground made him unassuming, simple, average.[break][break]
”The taste should be herbal, earthy at first, followed by a rich sweetness of the berries behind, finishing with a closing of spice.” In another life, perhaps he would have had a chance at being a sommelier. [break][break]
The other’s guise was well done, his enhanced eyesight merely catching some oddities about it, but his intrigue was suppressed, the thoughts of the time of evening it was, how lightly she traveled, or appeared to, struck to him that the woman was likely a local. The man however simply smiled and offered the cup of hot tea to the other. The ceramic vessel transferred heat to his hand, yet it wasn’t scalding, almost perfectly warmed to the touch. ”So, who has the spirits of the woods guided before my humble path on this day?”[break][break]
The brightness of the fire seemed to cascade his face in a harmony of shadow on one side, to every detail of his body being exposed on another, soft baby blue eyes that were, long black hair that seemed to spike and fall in a multitude of directions. Sonam's family hunting bow, sun bleached and old, lying on the forest floor next to his travelling ensemble, a quiver of arrows with very basic fletching propped next to his pack atop his walking staff.
Welcoming and handsome? Seemed like she had hit the jackpot with this one. Even if he turned out to be an enemy. She always liked warm and kind people. As he poured a cup of tea, she found a seat, her eyes taking the chance to take in the man's appearance for a moment. Defined muscles and tanned skin, so he likely worked outside or travelled around. The relatively short hair didn't show any signs of being taken care of beyond a wash every now and then, so he definitely wasn't some stuck up noble playing at being an average civilian. By no means was he horrible to look at, but Sayuri would redirect her attention to the fire, gently rubbing her hands together and warming them at the fire, keeping the man in her peripheral vision. If he was digging for a weapon she would need to be ready. She doubted it though. He did not give off the same energy as some of the other company she kept.
Now that she was sat here and allowed a moment of respite she found the idea of a cup of tea welcoming and much needed. She dismissed the man's apologies, reassuring him; "it is alright. I prefer mine without. "
As he rose he did so to an almost unexpected height. As he had been sat he had seemed rather unassuming, peaceful - or perhaps simply harmless? - but she didn't let it put her off and she reached up to accept the cup of herbal goodness with a soft smile playing on her lips. "Oh that sounds interesting - I do not often drink herbal or fruit teas. White and greens are my usual go-tos." She didn't know much about tea , but she knew enough to brew a decent cup of it.
"The spirits? Oh no one of note I am afraid. A simple seamstress. I live just outside the village a ways up that way-" she nodded in the direction of what was in fact her humble abode and from where she ran her small hobby-business "-if you ever need something mended or to restock on a few items, they do have a few vendors." Brown eyes seemed almost black in the low light and it was quite the contrast to the blue hues she met as she looked at her tea partner.
"And you? I have not seen you around here before and you don't seem the type to linger anywhere for long" She inquired with a small smirk dragging one side of her mouth upwards as she nodded towards the bow and pack. How well could he shoot? Enough to be dangerous.
A weapon did not mean ill intent. It meant protection and a bow was a hunting tool often used. The wear and tear certainly told a story of a long life and many years of service. Probably rested perfectly in his hands. Her gaze wandered across the man's face, lingering for a moment, to the fire and she sipped at her tea finding she easily found the notes he had mentioned before. A lovely blend, really. Reminded her of late autumn evenings with her grandparents, though they had used more anise and other stronger spices. Occasionally she glanced at him again just to show she was still listening and had not slipped into some daydream while watching the fire dance and crackle.
The other’s responses warmed his heart. He was glad he did not offend, so unaccustomed to the rules and dictions of other countries, and their seats of hospitality. He was a simple man, raised in the rural aspects of hospitality, greeting a neighbor as if they were family, and to Sonam, the entire world was his neighborhood. ”Greens and whites hmm? A lady with as refined tastes as her appearance.” He smiled modestly, while not one bound to earthly shackles as most, he could still appreciate another’s physical makeup. [break][break]
The man returned to his seated position, grateful of the other who seemed just as excited and eager to be having a discussion with non-hostile company. It was welcomed after his travels across the land, the man unsure of how far he actually ventured. A seamstress? A respectable pastime, but the man was sure there was more than met the eye in this circumstance, yet he wasn’t one to pry beyond the boundaries of what was allotted to him. ”Seamstress? Family trade, passion, hobby? All of the above?” In the deepest of emotions, mingled with old and painful memories, Sonam longed for stability, but that was a closed door on his future. [break][break]
Taking another sip of his tea, the steady heat from the flame blended with the warmth the tea brought him internally was refreshing, and calming.The man mused internally, he didn’t necessarily decree himself an occupation other than vagabond. Making income from being self sufficient, small trades here and there for preserved goods and otherwise. ”My thanks, I could use stitching on my sandals, and perhaps a weatherproofing of my belongings. A small detour would be welcomed.” Granted, he wasn’t on a schedule in the slightest, and might even enjoy lodging in the area for some time.[break][break]
The man nodded and kept eye contact with the other, yet not in a way to be overbearing, moreso in a sense of respect. He did notice the glances to his bow, his keen eyes hungered for detail in their environment, and a lifetime of trading opened one’s visuals to how others behaved subtly. ”Me? Well, I’m simply a traveler. All of my worldly possession strung to my back, with a few enough tools to deter those who have fallen on unfortunate times. Granted, I am naive to the true struggles that seem to rise and fall behind a hidden world that are discussed in hushed tones of the villages I’ve seen. Yet there was much beauty to be appreciated even when others struggle- He made a note to smile when he mentioned beauty being appreciated. ”It isn’t a sin to accept that struggles exist, yet it is when we have the power to change that struggle. One could say my travels are a pursuit to alleviate, not end, the pains we endure.” [break][break]
The man realized he was caught on a tangent, and a philosophy lesson wasn’t always welcomed, especially to strangers whom he had just met. ”My birth name is Sonam Gyatso, by the by. I suppose a trading of names is customary, especially when one is enjoying company and tea with another. Your’s? If I may be so bold to ask, honorary Seamstress?” While to others, and even if other people, seemed to be flirtatious or bold with how they spoke, Sonam was purely based in his speech. The words came soft, slightly bassy enough to carry above the sounds of the crackling flame, but ever so gently.
