💙Fanart time! I wanted to do a small series of favourite boys. So here is (one of) my favourite grumpy barbarians from "ice planet barbarians" It's honestly hard to choose. There are so many of them that I love lol.
🌲The world spins, the light blurs, and the music fills the dark forest around you. The handsome hulderkall leans in and whispers
"Come with me into the mountains..."
Oh.. The words are so tempting. Will you join him? I'm sure it's completely safe, and you won't be locked away forever.
“The medieval warrior, realizing the consequences of his impulsive act, immediately approached the owner of the drone and offered to pay for the damage.
The owner of the drone was so impressed by the brilliant attack that he suggested organizing a competition for bringing down “dragons” with short spears next year.
Drone owners have another year to develop a unique “dragon-like” design for their flying machines.” (x)
I am 100% cooler with this knowing that the spear-thrower realized “oops maybe I shouldn’t have done that” and tried to make it right, and that the guy who the drone belonged to was cool with it
This is one of the scariest things I’ve ever done! Putting myself out there and asking for things is HARD, and I genuinely don’t know if there’s enough interest in this for it to be viable.
BUT shy bairns get nowt and all that, and if there is enough support and this does work out, then it’s a chance to do something really exciting. Very few people have had a properly fitted suit of historical plate to test with, and even fewer of them have an audience of this size to share their findings with. And while I may not be the best person for the job, I’m the only person that I am.
SO, if you want to see how far I can push movement in plate armour, or how many fantasy tropes I can recreate; if you want to see the process of making and fitting a full suit, and learn more about historical craftsmanship; OR if you want to watch a goofy goober pole dancing and attempting gymnastics in a clanky tin suit, with lots of failure along the way, please support this project.
There’s no way I can do it on my own, but if enough people chip in, there’s a chance!
And if you can’t or don’t want to contribute, don’t worry about it! I’ll still be here making my usual content either way!
The setting that prevents your work being used to train AI models is turned off by default! I had no idea about this until now! Artists, go to your settings, click “visibility”, and turn on this setting! Protect your work!
You tried to seem casual as you stood outside of the bakery. Pretending to be focused on your phone gave you an excuse to stand outside for a long period of time.
The orc your heart was after was only a few feet away; inside the bakery. Your first time inside the bakery was a little over a year ago, and that’s when you met him.
The owner of the bakery, the most gorgeous orc you had ever seen.
Your first conversation was full of awkward laughter as you made small talk. He smiled though, saying he enjoyed the sound of your happiness.
Your heart almost exploded at his words. He seemed almost embarrassed to say them though, maybe too cheesy for a first encounter.
That didn’t stop you from returning though. You always stopped by at least once a week. The baked goods were wonderful, but there was no denying that Grimlak was reason for visiting.
Grimlak, the sweetest orc you had ever had the pleasure of meeting.
He was taller than you (as most orcs tend to be), and had a layer of softness over his muscled. Grimlak explained how he tried to visit the gym occasionally because he couldn’t resist a sweet treat, but you didn’t care about his pushy belly or thick thighs.
Grimlak was a treat, both for the eyes and your heart.
So, that’s why you were standing outside, pretending you weren’t being a creep and trying to stare at the massive green orc on the other side of the glass. Nope, too busy looking at your phone. Definitely not the way Grimlak smiles while serving the baked treats he makes. The joy in his eyes as yet another customer compliments his baking skills, or the way he crosses his arms when he’s concentrating on something that needs his attention.
Not creepy at all…. just head over heels in love.
Today was the day Grimlak would know how you felt, you swore to yourself today would be the day.
One deep inhale later, you made your way inside.
“I was wondering when you would come in. Everything okay? You were staring at your phone for a long time” Grimlak exclaimed with worry lacing his tone.
You almost ran for the door. He saw you outside? How long had he known you were out there?
Shaking your head a little, you forced out a pained laugh to hide your embarrassment.
“Everything’s fine! Just some family drama” you lied as easily as you breathed. Grimlak didn’t question it, only saying he hoped everything was okay with your family.
He was so caring, you wanted to devour him on the spot. Rapidly blinking away those thoughts, you tried to play it cool.
Today was the day he would know your feelings.
“So, Grimlak, are you… are you busy this weekend? I remember you saying you weren’t sure what you were going to do with yourself on your days off, so… maybe we could, you know, do something? Together?” you asked so casually, ignoring how your voice broke a little as you hesitated to say what you wanted to say. So smooth.
Grimlak looked at you for a moment, slowly blinking as he processed your words. After a few seconds, his smile widened farther than ever before. A twinkle in his eye, of joy and amusement.
“Careful lovely, I might think you have a crush on me with those words” Grimlak stated as he leaned towards you, the counter blocking him from getting closer to your flustered face.
Was he playing with your feelings? No, he would never. Was he just teasing in general? Maybe he was making sure you were actually asking him on a date, in case he was misunderstanding the situation?
You were quiet as these possibilities ran through your mind. Grimlak took notice, his smile faltering a bit. He leaned back a bit, giving you more space.
You didn’t want that though. You didn’t want to be so close, yet so far. Not anymore.
“Listen lovely, I hope I didn’t upset you-“
“It is a date!” The words left your mouth before you could stop them. Grimlak’s eyes widened in surprise at your exclamation, or possibly from your response being a bit too loud for a place such as this.
Clearing your throat, you tried again.
“What I mean is, I am asking you out. On a date. This weekend. Only if you’re free! Oh, and if you even want to. You don’t have to, it’s just….” you trailed off a bit, focusing on the warmth blooming behind Grimlak’s gaze. He was beautiful.
“I really, really like you, Grimlak. So, if you’re interested-“
“I’d love to go out with you, lovely” Grimlak replied before you could finish your sentence, his own excitement causing him to become impatient.
Your breath left your lungs.
He said yes? Grimlak, kind, sweet, funny, wonderful, attractive Grimlak, wanted to go out with you?
You tried to suppress the smile from spreading too wide across your face, but you couldn’t help you.
Grimlak said yes, to a date, with you.
“Cool! Cool. So, this weekend? I still have your number, I can text you the details later?” you asked while trying to be casual, and so smooth, once more. Grimlak, with that smile that wanted your heart, agreed to texting later.
You were practically skipping out the door when Grimlak called your name.
Looking back, he held out a bag to you.
“A lovely treat for a lovely person, it’s on the house” Grimlak stated before dropping the baked treat into your awaiting hand.
Your face had never felt so hot, but that didn’t matter. The butterflies could eat away at your stomach, and the rest of your insides, but you couldn’t find the will to care.
Please keep interacting with this post because when I come to tumblr to procrastinate, this shows up again in my notifications and guilts me into writing again
Whew, sorry this took so long for an update. I've been working with my vet to get a treatment plan for my cat who was recently diagnosed with a medical condition, and it's been a bit of a roller coaster ride. Luckily, we have everything set up now and I am hoping he'll be happy and healthy.
Title: Prairie Song - Part 5
Word Count: 5.1k
Rating: E
Overall CW: period typical behavior, misogyny, violence, gore, character death, animal death, explicit sexual scenes
Chapter Warning: Animal death
Summary: Your father has once again forbade you from leaving the ranch to go on the months long cattle drive your whole family used to take part in; it’s been that way since your mother died…So like every year since, you find yourself alone on the ranch to tend to the cattle that didn’t go to auction and the rest of the farm animals. But something isn’t quite right amongst the trees on the far side of your grazing lands, and the animals are growing wary.
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7
It was strange; the feeling of not being so alone while your pa and brother were hundreds of miles away while your companion was something, someone not quite…or rather not human at all.
It had been a little over a week since you had shared the scones you had purchased from Lily with him on your porch. And while your strange cowboy didn't come every day he had started to make it a habit to check in on you often enough. He never got too close, always up in the treeline near the edge of your property when you called the cows in at night, or sitting up on your porch roof at night.
He didn't seem to come around during the day and you wondered if like some prairie predators he was nocturnal, it honestly wouldn’t surprise you based on what little you knew of him.
You had started trying to get a better look at him when he showed up, eager to take in more of his strangeness, but he always stayed illusive enough you could only make out his most defining features. In reality the most you had actually seen of him was the first night he appeared and that was all such a blur now. And as the days passed your curiosity surrounding him only grew as he remained sheltered by the long limbs of the trees or the deep shadows of the roof of the house.
You hoped that leaving him more food would maybe let you catch more than just a glimpse, but like some sort of specter he was very good at making himself difficult to observe.
However you deemed that, like a wild animal or a spooked horse, maybe if you gave him enough time he'd come around and linger a bit longer in your presence.
—
The days are starting to get shorter, and the nights longer, and more often than not you find yourself reaching for your shawl and at times, even your gloves when you go out to do the evening chores. Mornings aren't as bad yet but you know it's only a matter of time before they too start to chill your skin.
After a few days of cold rain it's nice to finally see the sun burning along the horizon line, warming and drying out the grasses as you finish up with the chickens and go to call the cows in.
You haven't seen your companion in a few days and you assume that he's been hiding out from the poor weather. You wonder how he even manages to stay warm with so little clothing, maybe the cold doesn't affect him? Or maybe he burrows (that is a funny thought, burrowing like a lizard somewhere in a hole or a snake under a rock). You can't help but laugh to yourself. Next time he shows up maybe you'll ask, but you doubt he'll even understand the question.
The girls and their growing babes seem to be enjoying the sun as well, bells clinking as they chew their cud and grass unhurriedly along the far treeline. You smile at the sight and lean against the fence post closing your eyes and taking in the evening breeze and the smell of fall on the air.
You enjoy the moment a while longer, resting your cheek against your arm and just…existing. But there is no rest for the wicked and you perk back up after a time and stretch your back and focus back on your meandering livestock.
You cup your hands around your mouth like every night and begin your calling song, and like every night the cows perk up, mooing and grunting softly as they start to trot towards you and the paddock.
A rustling of branches and quivering of tall grass and you hone in on the sudden disturbance. Behind the cattle you catch movement along the fenceline, though it doesn't seem to bother them too much as they continue on their path.
A moment later you're surprised to see your companion appear from the brush, right along the fence. Not up in the trees, not using his odd whatever that makes him shimmer like crystal clear water from spring snow melt. No, he's standing there, on the ground, watching you curiously as he always does.
Slowly, you duck under the paddock fence and start to walk across the field; you really should have put the cows away but you don't want to miss this opportunity.
You hold your breath as you approach, afraid that you might scare him off (which is a funny thought if you were to actually consider it). He continues to watch you, the appendages at his jaw working slowly and as you near you can hear a soft chuffing sound coming from him, as if encouraging you.
“I don't think yer one of my girls.” You say when you come to stand just five feet from him; you wonder if you can get away with moving closer and leaning on the fence post.
He huffs at that shaking his head, tendril-like hair clinking with the jewelry and bones he has woven into it.
Careful you step closer, he remains rooted to the spot, unbothered by your approach as he just continues to observe you.
Finally, your skirts brush against the worn wood of the posts and you carefully reach out, resting your hands on top of the fence. Even though you can't see his eyes you know he's watching your every move.
Your gaze moves quickly across his frame, from his head to his large chest and long muscled arms. You see a deep, long healed laceration running around his right bicep and you wonder what could have caused such an injury. It almost looks as though something, or someone had attempted to cut off his arm.
You can see more scars of varying degrees adorning his flesh, some old and silver and other and odd pale green, perhaps fresher? Your eyes catch on a healing bullet hole in his shoulder, and you realize it from the night he saved you and you feel your heart stutter in your chest briefly at the realization.
He's completely, foreign, otherworldly and you've never seen anything like him before; your brain working overtime to try and take him all in.
You feel your fingers itch to touch his reptilian-like skin, brush against the streak of red that cascades down the middle of his chest and abdomen like a stream of fresh blood. You wonder if his skin is toxic, like some toads or lizards, if the color was any indication.
His soft clicking catches your attention again and your gaze falls back to his covered face, suddenly feeling a bit shy that you had been ogling him so openly.
He tilts his head at you and makes a small sound and you tilt your head in the same direction, mimicking him. To your surprise he makes a sound deep in his chest that almost sounds like laughter.
You let out a small huff yourself and shake your head at the absurdity of it all.
You look back up at him through your lashes, studying him again before deciding to speak again.
“What exactly are you?” You finally ask.
He observes you for another moment; you didn't think he'd understand you anyway but you wanted to try.
He tips his chin to you and your breath catches in your throat when you hear a deep rumble come from him, his jaw working as he speaks.
“Yautja.” The word is rough and foreign and for a moment you're not even sure it is a word until you play it over in your head.
“Yow-ja?” You try carefully; you know you've butchered it by the way he huffs and shakes his head.
“Yautja.” He repeats, slower this time, putting emphasis on the pronunciation.
You try again and it seems to please him this time as he makes a purring noise.
“So…you can understand me? I mean, you understand what I'm sayin’” you realize you might be speaking too fast at this point but your brain is working a mile a minute.
“Sei-i.” He says and you tilt your head.
“Is that yes?” You ask and nod your head when you say the word ‘yes’ to help convey the meaning.
“Sei-i…yes.” The English sounds heavy and thick on his tongue and you're certain he's rarely, if ever had to use it, but still you feel sparks dance across your skin at the acknowledgement.
“You speak American? Sorry, English then?!” You lean in closer to him.
He tilts his head as if thinking before speaking again, he raises a hand, palm facing towards the ground, before slightly lowering his hand.
“Small…pyode amedha h’ko gkei’moun.”
Your body shivers at the sound of his voice, you only understood the word ‘small’, but you like the way his words curl around you.
“So you speak a little, but understan’ what I'm sayin’ for the most part” you press a bit more and he nods.
You feel a grin pulling at the corner of your lips.
“So we coulda been shootin’ the breeze for awhile then.” You reply and move to rest your chin against the tops of your knuckles as you grip the post, body relaxing further.
He tilts his head and makes a small chirp.
"Why…” he pauses again before motioning to you. “Sa-de Nrak'ytara-di s’ Rh’y’ll …shoot vayuh'ta?”
For a moment you aren't entirely sure what to say, his words come out unhurried, but still confusion laces his tone, which makes it even harder to parse out the English words that he had pressed out.
Finally, it dawns on you and you can’t help but laugh, and you only laugh harder when he seems somewhat confused by the sound.
“Sorry, I ain't laughin’ at you.” You reassure him and smile, showing your teeth at him.
He takes a few steps back suddenly and ducks his head, similar to a wild animal showing submission, and your posture straightens immediately, body on alert now.
“Easy there cowboy, I ain't teasin’ yeah or tryin' to scare you off.” Though you doubt you could do anything to scare off a being like him, you still speak to him in a tone you might with Penny when she's spooked.
He watches you for a moment, looking a bit uncertain in his posture before taking a step forward tentatively.
“Nrak'ytara-di s’ m-di l'ulij-bpe?” He shakes his head as if trying to find the words. “…shows…fangs?” He finally offers.
You have to bring your hand over your mouth to stop yourself from smiling again.
“Oh! I’m smiling at you, it means I'm happy.” You say and lower your hand a little bit to peek a smile at him.
He seems to puff up at this and it reminds you a bit of when your hens are pleased with themselves.
“Nrak'ytara-di s’ yin'tekai.” His voice rumbles, low, almost purring and he ducks his head, this time in acknowledgement.
You can't help but smile widely, and this time he doesn't step back.
“So…you are Yautjaah.” You begin, knowing you are still probably butchering it. “Do you have a name, I mean I can jus’ keep calling you cowboy but…” you trail off as you force yourself to gather your excited energy and be patient.
“Rh’yll.” He says and brings a closed fist to his chest, bowing his head. You realize that you've heard him say that before.
“R-ell.” You try the name on your tongue and you hear a deep purr come from his chest, which you've decided is one of your favorite sounds that he makes.
“Well it's mighty fine to meet your acquaintance Rh’yll.” You say and offer out your hand. “Name’s Y/N L/N.”
He looks at your hand curiously before slowly bringing his hand towards you, palm facing upwards.
“Nrak'ytara-di?”
He's said that a few times now, you'll have to ask him what it means when you're not about to vibrate out of your own skin in anticipation.
You hold your breath and turn your wrist, bringing your hand to his, your small palm slides over his massive one.
Oh! He's so warm! Warmer than you would have thought, you had expected the coolness of some sort of reptile. Carefully you curl your fingers around his palm, fingers barely reaching the side of his broad hand. His skin is rough, calloused and pleasantly dry like warm stones in the sun.
You feel him close his fingers around your hand and he basically engulfs the entirety of it. You want to melt into that feeling of roughness and heat, a strange feeling of security despite the fact that a little voice in the back of your skull is whispering “he could tear off your whole arm without breaking a sweat.”
It was one of the most odd handshakes you've ever received, mostly due to his confusion of how to do it, but it quickly solidifies into one of your favorites as you reluctantly pull away from him.
He flexes his fingers looking at them curiously and it's a strange thing to think he looks charming, even somewhat cute as he does, all seven plus feet of him.
You lean back on the post again, arms folded contentedly as you observe him further, chin coming to rest on top of your arms.
“Na rack ya tara dee?” You cringe, that was the worst one yet. But he quickly perks up at that. “What does that mean?”
“Nrak'ytara-di.” He repeats for you, it sounds much better when he says it.
“Yeah what is that? You've said it a few times, mus’ be something important.”
He looks a bit confused and then points at you.
“Nrak'ytara-di.” he says and you frown.
“Y/N.” You say pointing at yourself.
“Nrak'ytara-di.” he says again and you huff.
“You callin’ me somethin’ nasty ain'tcha? Some sorta Yautja curse?” Your eyes narrow and your body tenses, shoulders squaring up as if preparing for a squabble.
He reels back slightly, making a distressed sound before clicking and starting up a weak purr.
“M-di… no….Nrak'ytara-di s’....” He pauses, searching for the words. “Nrak'ytara-di s’ small guardian…Y/N s’ small guardian.”
Oh!
You feel a bit embarrassed by your questioning of his words and at the same time a warm fuzziness fills your chest and blooms outward. He had given you a name, a fine name, one that almost felt honorable when he said it. It was something you'd expect from your family, a cherished pet name and was yours and yours alone.
You feel your shoulders soften again and your gaze mellows as you bask in the feeling of getting such a title.
“Small guardian…nrack y-tara dee.” You try slower this time; letting the words curl pleasantly around your tongue now that you know the meaning. “Why that's a fine title, and I'm much obliged to have it.”
You smile softly at him and he relaxes again and his purring grows louder.
—
Rh’yll began to show up more and more over the next two weeks, though he still rarely made his way to the center of your property, and never during the day. Though his late night/middle of the night visits on your roof become more late evenings where you would mostly sit in contented silence; the language barrier still a difficult one to overcome.
You had asked him why, curious more than anything why he seemed to skirt your property now that you were more acquainted. And he had said something about your clan's land, him being an outsider and something about earning rights.
You didn't press him after that but enjoyed how he showed up with the girls at night when you called them in from the grazing lands.
The days were quickly getting colder, with even the mornings now having a bite to them and you continued to wonder how little he wore, how he was staying warm. But every time you brush against him (accidentally and a few times non accidental though you lie to yourself and say it was), he was always impossibly warm.
Still…
One particularly cool night you had snuck inside and grabbed one of the thick wool blankets from the linen chest at the end of your bed and had passed it up to him while he perched on your porch roof.
He had unraveled it curiously; petting at the course fibers before purring and very carefully folding it back up, seemingly pleased with the gift.
Soon his presence was a regular comfort, and the routine that you fell into with him a welcome one.
—
You know that you can go into town and purchase a good amount of dried meats and maybe even some fresh game on Saturday, and you could probably talk to Elliot Monroe out on the outskirts of the townline about getting some fresh deer meat from him at a good price since he was such an avid hunter. Though, apparently he had been gone for nearly a week and no one knew when he'd be back, probably on one of his extended hunting treks.
However, you decide to save some money (also the fact you are stubborn and can well enough provide for yourself) and spend a day out in the woods at the edge of your property.
If you could manage to get a deer, you'd have more than enough meat to last you well into the winter months. You wouldn't have to worry about galavanting in frigid temperatures through mounds of snow chasing after rabbits or God forbid, your least favorite, trekking down to the river and fishing for trout.
As you prepare your day pack and check over your rifle, you contemplate taking Penny with you to cover more distance; but ultimately decide to leave her home, not really wanting to go too far into the woods with the days being as short as they are. If given the option you know you’d probably go way out of your way without even noticing, and Penny is always somewhat nervous while going through the forest anyway.
Rh’yll hasn't shown up in the past day or so, but he had mentioned something about a hunt so you weren't entirely sure when he'd be back. Hopefully you wouldn't be stepping on his toes by going out into the forest where he had seemingly made his stomping grounds. (Even though it was technically part of your land).
Hauling your pack up onto your back you do a double check, especially for the ropes and twine, you did not want to be hauling a deer through the brush by your bare hands if you managed to get lucky.
Double tying your boots and grabbing your rifle by the door, you lock up the house behind you and make your way towards the cow paddock.
Walking through the grazing area you pat a few of the ladies on their shoulders as they come to check on you and see if you have any treats for them. Some gently mouthing at your skirts which you laugh at and brush off as you hop around them.
They have been spoiled rotten.
The branches creak and sway in the morning breeze as you reach the treeline and you can smell the pine resin and dying leaves in the air. You take a deep breath, savoring the crisp smell before ducking under the fenceline and walking into the thick woods.
Twigs and fallen leaves crunch under your feet as you press forward and you make the decision to walk down to where the trees meet a portion of the river that was more shallow than most so you can cross before making your way north into the denser part of the woods. It wouldn't be an easy path, but the area you were hoping to get to had always been good to your family when it came to promising hunts.
At least it was no longer hot out, which meant you'd be more comfortable on your trek.
—
It had taken until noon at least from what you could tell to reach the area you had hunted with your father with; which is longer than you would have liked, given that most likely meant you would be heading home in the dark.
The river had been much higher than previous seasons, most likely due to the rains that had been pelting the lands over the past week which had left you having to reroute your crossing point much further up than you had anticipated.
…To be honest, you are not looking forward to having to drag a deer back with you due to the detour you’ll be repeating.
Still… you are here now and you came here for a reason.
Slowly you begin to advance further into the thicket of shrubs and branches before you, thorns clawing at your blouse as you press forward.
Gingerly, you crouch down, making sure to watch where you step, to not alert any nearby animals to your presence.
After another hour of creeping through underbrush, climbing over fallen trees, you find a well-traveled deer path and not far into it a wet patch of mud reveals what appears to be very fresh tracks. As you examine the print you can feel your pulse quicken at the find, it was definitely made recently and with the size of the hoof prints, it looks to be a good sized animal.
You glance up at the narrow path before you, well used,cutting through the trees; and you can see small tufts of tawny hair clinging to the overgrowth lining the run.
Quickly but carefully, one foot over the other you, crouch walk following the path. You bring your rifle tight to your side, ready to get yourself into position at a moment's notice.
You nearly tripped a few times while climbing over some of the deep gnarled roots of some of the elder pine trees and had almost lost your footing in a thick layer of mud that you hadn't seen beneath a layering of fallen leaves.
But it could have been more than half an hour before you saw it.
A deer, and not only a deer, a large buck with a beautiful set of horns adorning his head.
Your breath catches in your throat as you watch him casually stepping through the forest, occasionally bending his head to graze; ears swiveling at all times.
If you can manage to get a clean shot on him and take him down, you won't have to worry about meat for a long time; it might even last until your pa and brother get back.
You lick your lips and do your best to steady your breathing; you've come this far…you don't want to lose this chance.
As you take your time, narrowing the distance, pausing each time the buck lifts his head to look around, you try not to let the time of day weigh on your mind too much. This will be worth it, if you can pull this off, trudging home in the dark will be worth it.
There is a sudden passing feeling of something watching you and you pause, glancing around, listening intently. If you are honest with yourself, you have felt somewhat watched throughout your entire journey. But you're quick to brush it off again, chalking it up to nerves and being hyper aware. You just hope it isn't a hungry grizzly bear or mountain cat eyeing you up.
Finally in range of the buck and him non-the-wiser, you carefully wiggle yourself into a dense line of shrubs, pulling your rifle into position as you track the bucks movement.
As quietly as you can you cock your rifle, your line of sight now perfectly aligned, you watch as the bucks ears prick, and you hold your breath wondering if he somehow heard the click of the Colt. Luckily he doesn't seem to be alerted and continues to graze.
Your finger comes to the trigger and your fingertips on the gun tighten.
Despite the fact you had been raised going to church every Sunday, you didn't really believe in a God but you find yourself praying under your breath as you squeeze the trigger.
The shot rings out through the trees, sound cutting through the silence and stirring up a cacophony of bird sounds and what sounds to be another hoofed animal that runs further into the forest.
You watch as the buck takes a shuddering half step as if attempting to bolt before letting out a horrible breathy wail and collapsing out of sight behind a large pine.
You don't think you've ever moved as quickly through such dense growth ever in your life. You end up stumbling and scraping up your knee, and in the back of your mind you wonder if the sudden wetness running down your leg is just mud or your blood. But you'd take a hundred blooded knees if you come around the large tree blocking your view and see the buck laying on the leaf covered ground.
Scrambling around the base of the large pine, you practically spill over yourself, anxiety and excitement bubbling up inside your chest.
Your breath comes out in a shuddering sort of sound, somewhere between a laugh and a cry.
Laying in bed of crisp fallen leaves and still vivid grass is the buck.
You can see that his chest still rises and falls weakly, a sad hollow sound escaping him and you feel your chest tighten.
Straightening up, you make your way closer, watching as the beautiful beast clings to the last remnants of life. This was something that you always hate, the aftermath of the hunt, the realization setting in that you have taken the life of another being that used to be just as alive as you.
Again, you begin to murmur a prayer under your breath, this time not for your rifle to shoot true, but for the animal before you. Reaching into your pack, you take out the hunting knife you had packed and come to rest on your knees beside the deer, gently resting your hand against his shivering shoulder.
“Thank you, you are greatly appreciated.” You say softly to it before being the tip of the knife to its breast bone, right where your father had shown you and thrusting it forward swiftly.
The buck lets out one more whine before stilling, body becoming completely lax. Slowly you remove the knife, wiping it off with an old rag you had brought in your pack before resting it on the ground next to you.
You sit there for a time, stroking the creature's shoulder, and you can feel the tears beginning to creep down your cheeks, falling and darkening the sleek fur you continue to pet. Your entire body suddenly feels tired and you can tell you are coming off the adrenaline high.
Suddenly a rustling in the branches above you catches your attention and your head whips up, scanning the trees.
You nearly laugh when you locate the source of the sound.
Above you Rh’yll perches on a thick bough, clicking softly as he observes you.
“I had a feelin’ something was watchin’ me.” You call up to him as you wipe your cheeks on the back of your sleeve.
“Nrak'ytara-di hunt well.” He purrs down at you before swinging off of the branch and dropping beside you.
You wonder how something as large as him could be so incredibly quiet.
“Ya think so?” You say a bit shakily and look back to the fallen buck.
Rh’yll bobs his head and continues to observe you, coming to crouch down beside you.
“Guess once I get this back to the ranch and all cleaned up you can have another if you like.” You nod towards the rabbit skull he had woven into his belt. The first kill you had ever given him that he seemed quite fond of.
He purrs deeply at this but shakes his head.
“Nrak'ytara-di’s trophy. S’ yin'tekai kv'var.” He replies and touches his index and middle fingers to his masked forehead.
You smile, not understanding everything he is saying but getting the jist of it.
“It definitely made my heart race, that’s fer sure.” You say and pat your chest before gazing up through the sparse leaves adorning the canopy.
You have definitely spent too long out here and it would be well past dark by the time you got back. You'd be calling the cows in late and feeding and tending to the horses and chickens by lantern light.
Sighing you swing your bag forward and begin the rummage through it for your rope. You'd have to make quick work of dressing the buck before getting it tired up for the long haul back.
Rh’yll chuffs softly beside you and you look up as he brings out a wicked looking dagger, twice the size of your hunting knife.
“Guan s’ h'ka-se, kv'var s’ bpi-de, kwe, ’ki’sei aseigan.” he tilts his head towards the buck and then lifts his dagger.
You're not sure what he's just said and you go to take the weapon from his hand thinking he means to let you borrow it. But he pulls it away from you and shakes his head.
“Rest, I help.”
You feel a smile tugging at your lips, one soft, perhaps adoring at his words. You lean back on your heels and nod at him.
“I'll make sure to watch yer back while ya work.” you say and he purrs deep in his chest as he begins dressing your kill.
—
“Small…pyode amedha h’ko gkei’moun.” = Soft meat is not easy.
“Sa-de Nrak'ytara-di s’ Rh’y’ll …shoot vayuh'ta?” = Why would small guardian and Rh’yll shoot the breeze?
“Nrak'ytara-di = Small guardian
“Nrak'ytara-di s’ m-di l'ulij-bpe?” = Small guardian is not upset/angry?
“Nrak'ytara-di s’ yin'tekai.” = Small guardian is pleased/honored.
“Nrak'ytara-di’s trophy. S’ yin'tekai kv'var.” = Small guardian's trophy, an honorable hunt.
“Guan s’ h'ka-se, kv'var s’ bpi-de, kwe, ’ki’sei aseigan.” = The night is here, the hunt is over, rest I will help/serve
(Part 1) You've taken your vows as a nun and live a peaceful, uneventful life in this secluded convent away from the world. Until one day, when you return to your room and find a tall, menacing man standing in the middle of it.
"Do you still remember me," Yandere!Gangster asks.
"It's been two days since our last conversation," you say. "Also, there's wanted posters of you all over the place. Even the church altar had your mugshot stapled above the cross."
"Is it one of the good photos," he inquires, straightening his shirt. "The one where I tilt my chin slightly and show off the big scar I got during a gang fight? You can't see it too well because I tattooed over it later, but there's a glimpse of it still."
"Exactly that one," you say.
"Do you think I'm handsome in it?"
"I wouldn't know, I'm a servant of God, unconcerned by such earthly matters." You notice his pout, so you slide your hands in your pockets nonchalantly and look away. "Well, perhaps."
His eyes light up.
"I'll be staying here for the unforeseeable future," he suddenly confesses. "Once we're in the clear, we can finally run away together. Don't tell anyone."
"What, and sleep together? That's blasphemous," you retort, unconvinced.
"I drew an imaginary border across the middle of your bed," he says, gesturing towards your humble mattress. "Whatever happens afterwards is out of our hands - we've done our best."
What a strange situation you've found yourself in: hiding a dangerous criminal from the eyes of the world, bringing him meals, using his nefarious advice during gamble evenings with the other nuns. When did you get so sly, one of them will remark upon seeing your sudden wins. God works in mysterious ways, you tell her. Sometimes by bringing you an infatuated mafia member who vows to spend the rest of his life serving you.
"Praising the Lord electrifies one's soul," Mother says during the last prayer of the day.
Huh, you'd argue that last night's happenings were closer to the definition. Then again, you couldn't possibly tell her you've been copulating with a depraved fugitive. You check your watch. It's about time you bring your unorthodox partner his dinner.
You've taken your vows as a nun and live a peaceful, uneventful life in this secluded convent away from the world. Until one day, when the evening prayer is interrupted by the sound of loud, repeating knocks at the main gate. You rush down the cobblestone path and open one of the doors. A tall, tattooed man stands before you. He smiles, seemingly recognizing your face.
"I see you're doing well, miss (Y/N)."
"Do I know you?"
"Why, of course," he says and looks at his watch. "Exactly two years, seven months, and eleven days ago, you helped me recover from my gunshot wounds after a gang war."
Ah, yes, it suddenly comes back to you. You were volunteering at a hospital when some rugged thug was brought in, halfway dead. Per your virtuous policy, everyone is to be treated the same. Consequently, you provided your patient with all your efforts and respect. He was impressed. He gave you his business card. In our world, he explained at the time, this constitutes a life bond. I shall be at your service until my last breath.
Yandere!Gangster stares at you expectantly. Your eyebrows raise - a barely noticeable change - and he confirms you remember your deed. There's no time to waste. He lifts up his suitcase, opens it up, hands it to you.
"What is this," you ask.
"Three million dollars. Counted twice. It is my thank you."
"I cannot accept this,” you say. "It goes against my beliefs."
"Alternatively I could kill one of your enemies in cold blood," he suggests. "No traces left behind. I'm a professional."
"I have no enemies, I practice forgiveness."
"Then you'll surely forgive me for offering you this humble sum."
You ponder. What might you even do with three million dollars? You don't dress up. You can't wear jewelry. There is no guaranteed Internet connection that would allow you to steadily invest in stocks and keep up with market changes.
"At the very least," the man interrupts, "take this suitcase for now and keep it somewhere safe." He glances behind. His lips are pursed. "I'm afraid I have to go. I will be back."
He adjusts his collar and speedily walks around the wall, heading for the hills. Hours later, in the middle of the night, you're summoned to the same gate where several seedy men are waiting for you.
"Was that rascal here? Did he give you anything?"
"I don't know what you're talking about. And - as a parenthesis entirely unrelated to this conversation - God does not approve of snitches. You don't have to keep it in mind during your inquiries."
Their eyes squint, weighing your statements. Perhaps you're right, you're just a regular nun.
"If you see someone suspicious," they warn one final time, backs turned to leave, "contact us immediately. One of our members abruptly deserted the gang, stole a significant chunk of our money, and wouldn't stop rambling about starting a new life with his beloved (Y/N) in some place that's not too hot or cold."
"What kind of place isn't too hot or cold," you wonder, briefly following after the men.
"Probably Mediterranean climate," one of them shouts, hopping into a dark car and slamming the door shut.
Is that why you've been approached by the criminal? Your cheeks involuntarily flush with color. You'll have to come to a decision by the time your suitor returns. As you step back into the holy premises, you suddenly realize the mafia visitors never gave you a phone number or any form of contact.
