~Altani and Zenos at the End of the Universe AU~
"It baffles the mind that you keep coming here only to waste your time making furniture as if you were less. You deny your true nature and squander energy to whittle."
Altani knew that Zenos was goading her. This was the weekly ritual. He was alive. He was sitting on a chair she'd made and complaining about it. This once empty room in a small building near the Last Dregs had become his dwelling. It was still derelict in her opinion, but she had begun to turn it around. The building was stable with a little help from some other denizens. Once that was finished, she had started making furniture for the pouting prince. It was more for her than for him. She wouldn't have housed a dog in the ruins before. When she learned that he was staying in this empty house, lying on the floor in the dust, she immediately began to rectify the situation. The seats in the Last Dregs were fine for a short café visit, but she was spending more time here. It made sense to have a place that she could rest. Zenos might not care about his lodgings, but she wasn't going to sit around in the dark like some sort of wretched animal. Before she had devoted her time to the scions, she was a carpenter. It was always nice to return to her roots. Unlike her work in the firmament, all the furniture she'd made for this house was in the Steppe style. Low beds and tables, dozens of rugs and pillows. The bookshelf she'd made was more western in structure, but the carvings on it were from her tribe, the Borlaaq. She had always considered him Xaela at heart. Seeing him among the trappings of her people suited him despite his grumblings. It gave her something to listen to while she worked. There was a pile of wood blocks on the table, next to a knife that had been staked in the center. After this stool, she planned to make something more artistic, like a trinket box. Not that Zenos would ever have any trinkets to put in such a thing, she thought. Still, a house was not a home without a few knick-knacks. "Move to the floor if you truly hate comfort so much," she replied, not looking up from the leg of the stool she was whittling, as he called it. "Misery for the sake of misery is a waste of time. You only think it is less because it is not something you have ever had to do," she said. "Garleans are soft and spoiled, and you are no exception."
Her mother would have scolded her for keeping a pet. She smiled. Keeping a baras indoors would have been less dangerous than what she was doing now. Zenos studied her, but she was unruffled by the length and depth of his gaze. She was never unnerved by him. A puzzle that still fascinated, despite the hours already poured into it. She was often annoyed or enraged, but there was no tension. He'd thrown a knife at her last week, but she caught in her hand and stabbed it into the table. Then she had yelled at him for making her ruin the table. The knife was still there. She had still returned for another visit. "There is nothing about me that is soft," he said. Curious. She hesitated with her carving. Her face made an interesting expression as her eyes darted to look at him before becoming intensely focused on her work, refusing to rest her eyes on him a moment longer. "Spoiled then. You and I had opposite upbringings," she muttered. "No one cared whether you lived or died, but gave you everything. My family and my tribe loved me, but I was given nothing. Everything I had to make for myself. My apprenticeship began at eight, and by fourteen I was making furniture for the tribe to sell." That was true. His belongings had mattered little to him and it brought no joy, but there was an endless supply of anything he might need. As for her, he hadn't given it much thought before.
Who was she before they'd met? When they had clashed at Rhalgar's Reach, he knew little of her other than the murmurings of soldiers. Heroes were nothing to him. He'd ended hundreds of so-called heroes in battles. None lingered in his mind. But her...
He remembered the day clearly. Her eyes blazed blue with a pink glow and her dark purple skin was glazed with sweat. Her lips were pulled back to show off sharp white teeth. That day he had felt something in his chest as she swung up her axe to clash against his sword. The surrounding battle slowed to a crawl. Even as her might faltered, he felt a spark of something, and he could not kill a creature such as she. There was a ferocity that he knew would only grow. In time, she would become more magnificent. To cut her down would be folly. The circumstances leading up to her creation hardly mattered then. It was the future battle that he cared about. He watched her as she continued her work. Her hands that masterfully held the axe also held the carving knife. She had an entire life before him, one that contained time for whittling. He had devoted every moment of his life to the hunt, and yet he still came up short compared to her. It was doubtful that mirroring her activities would make him a better warrior, but the annoying elezen girl's words came back to him. If he only pursued his pleasures, he would never get what he wanted from Altani. Woodworking was important to her for some godsforsaken reason. Zenos reached over to the table and pulled out the knife. He took a small piece of wood from the pile and sat down on the floor in front of her. Altani looked over at him and raised an eyebrow. "Come then, show me this pastime that takes you away from your purpose," he said. "What was the first thing your master showed you to make?" She smiled at him and put down the stool. "Wooden pegs, but I already have enough of those. How about we start with spoons?" She pulled out a pencil from her tool bag and began to explain the process, sketching out the shape on his wood block. She pulled another block for herself to make as well. He still felt that carving was a waste of time when they could be sparring, but somehow as he held his rough spoon against her perfect one, it didn't seem quite so pointless.