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Logfile from Two Moons - Belynrath. 04/21/2003
Base of the Lost Holt Father Tree(#765RJa) A dense grove of grotesquely shaped trees dominated by one immense Grandfather of a tree whose age is no less great than its size. It is obvious that the old tree has survived a terrible tragedy and you can see some of the scars left by the terrible blaze on the snow covered branches. Snow lies piled around the trees roots and in drifts around the Father Tree. Like old friends, the gnarled trees embrace one another, their many branches entwined and now snow collects atop them, occasionally crashing down to the ground below. It is a cold winter morning. The Father Tree is quiet as elves and wolves alike seek to the warmth of their dens after a long night out in the cold.
Belynrath moves through the clearing from haven been foraging at the far side of the florest from the den. He's not been as successful as he was in the warmer months.
Even with the few surges to the food supply, the winter has been hard on the wolfriders and guests. It has shown, not only in the fit of leathers, but in tempers as well. Granted, many would say that the archer-chief is -always- in a bad mood, but they would bbe wrong there. As he emerges from the Father tree, however, Strongbow looks less than pleased. The scent of the Underworlder hits him first, before he catches sight of the tall one. Moving towards him, footsteps almost silent on the ground, he tilts his head up at the taller elf and demands, ** Tell me what happened. **
Belynrath stops and looks down at Strongbow. His face is again masked, hiding the quirked brow. **Happened,** he asks, a mite confused. He glances at his empty hands, **Nothing. The night's been silent.**
Does he think the wolfrider is that thick? Or has he truly forgotten the incident? ** With the wolf, ** Strongbow reminds him...not too gently either.
Belynrath takes a breath, his shoulders squaring, **That.** The underworlder sneers under his mask, **It attacked me. I moved to defend myself.**
It must be what the Underworlder believes, for he continued to send. Crossing his arms at his chest, the archer-chief still looks unconvinced. ** Why did it attack you? ** Was he just standing there and the wolf lunged? Was he doing something to the wolf?
Belynrath lets his unseen upper lip twitch, the motion catching in his blue eyes as they narrow softly, **I don't pretend to know the minds of wolves. I was out for a walk, perhaps a bit further from teh den than I should have been. Northwind happened upon me as I was .... thinking. We spoke. It tensed. I became worried... fearful of my safety, around such a beast. I watched its movements, and stepped to a more.. polite distance. It attacked.** All this, with out a drop of emotion.
Strongbow still doesn't relax, but at least some of the anger leaves his eyes. Just some. The doubt remains as he continues with the interrogation, ** You did not touch her, did not tease her or leap at her in mock-attack? **
Belynrath shakes his head once, his gaze never leaving the wolf-chief's face, **Not once. Nor did my hand drift to my weapon until it made clear its intentions.** He shares the wolf stepping out from behind Northwind, growling and snarling.
That's certainly not the usual course attacks take. Giving a brusque nod, Strongbow relaxes his arms but continues to watch the tall Underworlder. ** We do not allow attacks on our wolves. But I will need to hear from her as well...perhaps see to the wolf. It may be ill, I can't say. **
Belynrath shrugs, **I wouldn't know, but do as you need L... Chief Lostholt.** He fights down a shiver, tucking his hands under his coat.
Neither punishments nor scoldings are given, but the archer-chief still does not look very pleased. Finally, he asks, ** Were you hurt by the wolf? Any bites or scratches? If the wolf has the foaming sickness then it could have been passed to you. **
Belynrath shakes his head, **None. Northwind pull him from me before he could get a firm grip.** Bruises don't really count, besides Strongbow asked about bites and scratches.
** Were your words with Northwind harsh? ** Granted, a wolf probably wouldn't pick up on that until the body language got rather high.
Belynrath shakes his head, but doesn't send a reply.
Oh, really? Arching a ruddy eyebrow, Strongbow tilts his head, wolf-like, at the Underworlder and asks simply, ** What did you speak about? **
Belynrath returns the look, he's eyes narrowing. A curt reply forms in his mind, but the young elf checks himself. 'This is a House Lord, troll-brain,' he scolds himself. With a shake of his head he replys, **Nothing of any great importance. Why I was out walking about on a moon- less night, her shock that I had taken off hte mask.**
Go ahead...try to challenge him. Strongbow would -love- to see that. Probably a good thing that the tall elf relents and sends, but the archer-chief isn't going to let it go quite so easily, ** Nothing was said, no movements were made that may have given the wolf the idea that you were attacking? **
**To my knowledge, none,** the younger elf replies. **I was merely thinking on times of old. She caught me unawares.**
** And you only spoke and the wolf attacked? ** It does sound very bizarre as the wolves won't generally attack unless there is danger.
Belynrath nods again. He's lack of further details.... Perhaps there is more to the story? Belynrath flicks a glance over Strongbow's head, to the south, **If there's nothing further, Chieftain?**
Strongbow holds out a hand to stay the Underworlder for a moment, ** Attacking one of our wolves is a serious offense. Perhaps you know this already, but I am saying it to you again. I do not know Northwind or her wolf very well, so she is not beyond doubt either. But if you tell me everything, I might be able to take action rather than merely kick you out for the attack. **
Belynrath sighs. The things he has to do for his lady's confort. **Ther eis little to tell. I was merely retracing steps of old, and found something dear to me. A minor thing, important to no one else. She caught me unawares. I was unsettled by it, and wished not to let her see. She pressed the matter, and moved too close.** Under his coat, his hands toy with something. No where near his knife. **You understand distance is polite. I did my best to keep my distance. Perhaps I was too... unnerved by her advances and my own lack of attentiveness.**
Strongbow nods and gestures for the elf to continue. Why do the young have to be so bloody curious?
Belynrath seems confused. What more does he want? Relinguishing, Belynrath conitnues, **That was it. The wolf began to growl, further worrying me. I did watch the wolf closely, and backed up, trying to keep my distance, as I said earlier.** He shrugs, **If that annoyed Northwind, and therefore her beast, I know not. ONly that a merefew steps later, I was being atacked.**
You sense in a locksend, Cirksa's sending probes you out, displeased and wondering where the hades you are.
Belynrath's eyes once agin turn to the south, sending this time.
Things do seem a bit clearer now to Strongbow...not much, but at least it doesn't look like the Underworlder is completely at fault here, ** What did you find then? Perhaps it was something the wolf did not like... **
You locksend to Cirksa, Belynrath replies that he is safe and just north fo the caves, by the large tree, speaking with Chief Lostholt. He is being detained, he is sad to admit, and will endever to be at your side shortly. There's a hint of embarassment.
Belynrath turns his attention back to the wolf-chief, **It is, honestly, nothing of imprtance.** And there it is, the sense that he's hiding something, something he doesn't want anyone to know.
Strongbow lets out an exasperated sigh, ** Something that may be of no importance to you may be of great importance to a wolf. **
Belynrath sneers under his mask. **No, not this, I assure you.**
A good thing that the archer-chief can't see the sneer. ** What is it? ** he asks, before continuing, ** You do realize that as an outsider you have the most suspicion in this. I want to hear both sides before I decide, but if you do not help me with the truth, then I will have little choice in what I must do. **
You locksend to Cirksa, Belynrath wonders how you are faring, if you're cold or hungry or thristy, and if there's anything he needed to bring you.
You sense in a locksend, Cirksa frowns ** Detained? **
Belynrath drops his eyes from the chief, sending off to someone again. He grumbles audibly. Bringin his hands out from under his coat, he pulls up the sleeve on his left hand. As the dark cloth exposes pale skin.... what? there's... hair? a very thin, very delicate bracelet of sorts.
You locksend to Cirksa, Belynrath does that teardrop, face down look. **Yes, detained.** Oh yeah... embarassed by it, and something else, by the conversation he's having with Strongbow.
A bracelet of hair? That nearly sends the archer-chief into a fit of laughter, but he manages to tone it down to just a slight smile. ** I see. ** Brown eyes try not to show too much amusement as he looks back to the taller elf, ** I will be speaking with Northwind as well. ** He won't detain the Underworlder any longer.
Belynrath covers the treasure and stomps off, upset, **Thank you.** His send is curt, short, angered. The indignity of it all! His long strides take him tothe south, retreating to hte caves, sending hte whole way.
You locksend ** There. Done. I'm on my way, beloved. Are you certain there is nothing I can bring you? ** to Cirksa.
Cirksa locksends ** There is nothing I wish that you could provide, Belynrath. **
You walk away from the tree, back into the clearing that marks the entrance to the Lost Holt. Lost Holt Clearing Here is where the elves of Lost Holt Gather for tribe councils, howls and receiving visitors from other tribes. The clearing is now blanketed under a thick cover of cold white snow, and in the center there is a stone fire ring. The cold bites into into your skin and makes you wish to light the fire for warmth. Off to the north lies the massive Father Tree, home to many of the elves of Lost Holt. It is a cold winter morning. The Father Tree is quiet as elves and wolves alike seek to the warmth of their dens after a long night out in the cold.
Belynrath moves into the area, his manner stiff. Under the mask, he frowns...
You locksend ** Nothing at all? My heart grows heavy at that, my love. ** to Cirksa.
Cirksa is seated, repairing a leather pack with needle and thread as best she can. The leather is considerably more difficult to sew than underworld fabrics. ** Your powers are limited, my young lord. Now... why is it our host detained you? **
THat again. Must he always embarass himself? Belynrath moves over, dropping to sit at Cirksa's feet, **A trival matter. I was attacked by a wolf. He wanted my side of hte story.** That's rtight, play it off. Maybe she won't press the matter.
Cirksa's brows raise ** Attacked? I should say it is /not/ a trivial matter. Were you injured? ** she sets asside the sewing intent on inspecting her minion. Doesn't have enough to be throwing them away, you know.
Belynrath appears unharmed, though has his hands hidden under his coat, **I'm fine. A bruise or two, and nothing more. The chief has let the matter drop, I believe. I, personally, don't feel it needs to be pressed further.** His eyes drop from Cirksa's, to the pack she was reparing.
Cirksa hmfs ** And since you have such authority and experience behind your opinion, I've no reason to follow it. You will tell me what occured /exactly/ as it occured and I shall decide if it is a trivial matter.**
Belynrath sighs, but gives in, far easier than he did with the wolfchief, **I was walking, and found the clearing we... visited some time ago.. I found some of your hair.. still on the tree... Northiwind happened upon me. I was startled. We spoke. She wanted to see what I had. I felt no reason to show it to her, and refused. The wolf seemed angered and being approaching with her. I backed away, trying to avoid conflict. It leaped to attack. I drew my knife to defend myself. She pulled the wolf away after it knocked me down.**
Cirksa coughs, my hair. oh. that.
Belynrath nods. Yes, that. **You understand, then, my reluncatnace to let her see what I had.**
Cirksa nods and takes up her sewing again, a bit embarrased herself though she adds ** YOu did not need explain why it was there to show it to her. Embarrasment is somewhat less painful than death. **
Belynrath sighs and yanks off the mask. He rubs his face roughly with his left hand. The sleeve drops down, exposing that hair, braided carefully into a bracelet about his wrist, **I know. I know. I'm a moron, that's all.** He hates making Cirksa look bad.
Cirksa just stares a moment then laughs, shaking her head and dropping it against one of her hands ** By my ancestors' folly... Belynrath. You never cease to amaze me. **
Belynrath looks up at Cirksa. He blinks, then his eyes track over to his wrist. Color bleeds onto his pale cheeks and he yanks his hand down back to his lap, quickly brushing hte sleeve to cover his wrist again. In an open send, Belynrath is so embarassed, he's not quite sure /what/ to do with himself. **.....**
Cirksa sighs and leans back against the cool stone of the opening to the denning cave ** Belynrath, a heart is a liability, and you proove that point admirably. **
Belynrath flicks his eyes up again, and sighs. His silver brows draw up, and he reaches a hand out, **I'm sorry. I feel too much, I know.**
Cirksa gestures you closer ** What will it take to harden your heart, Belynrath? Soft emotions are enjoyable, but they will hurt you in the end. **
Belynrath lets himself grin as Cirks amotions him to her. He steps to her, reaching to put a hand around her arms to her back, **I haven't a clue, beloved. I don't think I ever want it hardened so, if it risks taking you from me.**
Cirksa stiffens at the romantic response ** Belynrath ** she states in a warning tone ** If I must take myself from you to do it, I shall. You cannot wear your heart so easily, one of our enemies will take advantage of you for it. **
Belynrath stops at Cirksa's tenseness, the frown returning. His eyes appear troubled. He shakes his head slightly before withdrawing himself completely, moving only to just sit by her side, **My apologies, m'lady.** He does his best to keep his emotions from his send, but that eagerness of just awaiting to hold her worms itsway through, despote Belynrath taking up arms and hacking at it. Bad emotions! Down boy!
Cirksa sighs and settles her hands in her lap, gazing down at them for a long, quiet moment.
Cirksa locksends ** You must learn to control your emotions, Belynrath. Love, hate, fear... all will be your undoing if you allow it. **
Belynrath frowns and looks to the ground.
You locksend ** I just want to love you, Cirksa. I hate where I was born. I really am. I'm starting to hate everything about it. It's the only thing that keeps you from me. If it weren't cause of backstabbing and the politcial bullshit..... I don't know.... ** to Cirksa.
Belynrath stands after a private send, moving away from Cirksa with long strides.
After a while, Cirksa offers in uncharacteristic gentleness ** Belynrath, I am a part of that world. **
Belynrath closes his eyes, fighitng back the stining... it's the light, of course. His right hand toys with the bracelet on the other wrist. He fights to compose his mind before replying. It takes long minutes, **You needn't remind me, Lady Juraido.** He opens his eyes to stare at a tree.
Cirksa nods ** I know, but you want to forget, I can sense it behind your thoughts, Belynrath. Do not make me into a romantic vision of something I am not. **
Belynrath balsl his hand into a fist as the first tear drops free. Yeah, he wants to forget. He wants to live happy and ignorant. He shakes his head. Romantic vision? Hardly. Every chance she gets, she seems to do nothing but wrench his heart every which way. He whispers half to himself, "...I just love you." He moves to step further away into the woods.
