Private Tales A gift from the sea

[Liath]

More than just her body, the waiting had been a chance to let the mind and spirit of Maeve recover and regain solidity. Lay of the land around the small cottage was shown, fishing spots and game trails and traps. Even places with just nice views. Stories were exchanged, and Liath took a bemused pleasure in how the details had changed. A passing comment became a grand speech, and what was a grand battle to bring a rebellion to heal that almost ended in a defeat wound up being a breezy victory. And he was portrayed as much more serene and articulate than he felt he ever really was. Damn bards.

As he met her on the shore, he was attired differently. Stouter pants, still no tunic, a heavy bronze torc that ended in snarling heads of some beast, eyes set with garnet. Bracers with bandings of bronze set in anthromorphic beasts. A short sword was belted to his waist, odd leaf bladed shape and a brightly burnished brass hilt. It seemed like the weather didn't really bother him. Used as a hiking spear was an elegantly curved and carved spear, very obviously of something other than human origins. It looked almost like a living tree branch, and even though the blade gleamed like polished steel, it looked nothing remotely like it.

Oddly, there was nothing iron on his person that one could see, save perhaps the blade of the sword, though that rested in the sheath. Strapped to his back was a light pack, clearly an old campaign kit. Small set of cooking implements neatly folded to one side, a trio of skins and a heavy cloak that could double as bedroll or blanket.

"Well, now that i've scared your friend away... Shall we see to things?"

 

[Maeve]

A light blush across her cheeks as he spoke about the wind and her face turned up briefly. She could hear it was close, just not quite confident in this person whose company she had found herself in.

"It's just shy," Mae offered by way of explanation before tugging her own pack up on her shoulder. She had managed to clean and repair the clothing she had arrived in. Her riding were a dark olive green leather that looked thick but well worn and looked after so that it was soft and comfortable to wear tucked into her brown riding boots. Her top was a one shouldered mismatch of brown leather and furs. It came to roughly her second rib leaving her midriff and the tattoos down the curve of her waist and across her lower back exposed. She hadn't bothered to do anything with her hair, whenever she tried the wind attempted to rip it out again anyway.

The only weapon she had left was a nasty looking dagger which she had strapped to her thigh.

"I'm ready - excited," she confessed, her smile growing as she stepped over to join him and turned her back to the sea. "It feels good to be moving."