Private Tales What Does Not Kill Us

[Hath Charosh]

Hath watched her gaze carefully. He made a small smile to mirror hers. She accepted the hand on her shoulder and looked back at him before she closed her eyes.

In the darkness, his own gaze silently roamed. Hath took a slow breath, broad chest rising and falling. He felt the simple gratitude of her words, but he also couldn't agree that he always made things more simple.

"Mmm. And I can still feel anything because you came with me," he said quietly.

Hath shuffled his bulk slightly closer. With his right hand on her right shoulder, his left hand idly stroked across the new braids. Hath made a small sound of appreciation at the back of his throat.

"They seem honest people. But we watch out for each other."

 

[Pern]

Another nod of agreement, Pern's eyes flickered open at the touch of her braids. For the first time in several days her mind wandered back to the evening she'd rebraided his hair and the confession he'd made to her. Just more things muddled in among the rest now, Pern didn't feel she was capable of managing any one issue when so many had been brought to light.

After everything she'd learned today, what she really wanted was to return back to how she'd felt before then. Not to simply dismiss his feelings, but to be able to overlook them as a roadblock to simply being present in his company. Sure she had fumbled plenty of social gestures, but worrying about showing her teeth when smiling and not making too much eye contact felt far simpler than worrying about the complications of his feelings for her and his history with Scy.

Maybe it just started not with forgetting, but simply with moving on from the worry.

Being present. It was what she wanted, wasn't it?

"Did she do well?" Pern asked, her eyes glancing up as if to indicate the braids, "I feel bad ... I never did find wearing sho many braidsh very comfortable. How do the women shleep like thish?"

They pulled and pinched in places where they had been made tight so they wouldn't simply come undone.

 

[Hath Charosh]

"Did she do well?" Pern asked, her eyes glancing up as if to indicate the braids, "I feel bad ... I never did find wearing sho many braidsh very comfortable. How do the women shleep like thish?"

"No? Hmm."

Hath glanced down at the braids. She seemed comfortable enough in the moment with his proximity. It caused feelings to swell up, but he continued to tamp them down. He had promised her time and they had been through a lot.

"Then they have been done too tight," he said simply. "We will sort this."

There was often a certain kind of finality to his statements. Humans from cities like Elbion liked to speak around their actions and feelings. Orcs were more direct.

He let go of Pern's shoulder and rose up onto his knees. Hath maneuvered himself behind her as he spoke.

"Here, I will help."

He set one leg on either side of Pern and sat behind her. She was relatively slender compared to his bulk and and it was easy to have her seated in front of him.

"This one is too tight," he said. "The girl tried. She does not need to know," he spoke with slight amusement as he started to unwrap the braid.

 

[Pern]

Pern wasn't certain just how long they'd been traveling together now. Six months? Longer? It didn't seem quite like a full year, but she hadn't been in one region long enough to experience the typical seasonal changes that Elbion did. Yet even just six months ago this sort of interaction would have left her furiously uncomfortable and blushing out of embarassment for lack of knowing what to do or how to act.

Now? This felt... normal. Natural, almost. Living within his clan had given her a view into a life where physical touch and language was simply the way. She had come to understand some, not all, of the nuanced gestures between clan members and had also grown an appreciation for it. In Elbion? No one wanted to touch her. Aside from the paternal affections from her father and the hands-on tutoring of her mentor at the Smithy, humans avoided her like some kind of infectious plague.

This was nice and would have been nice even if it were any other orc aside from Hath. But because it was Hath? It felt doubly so.

Pern pulled her knees up to her chest and loosely hugged her arms around them as Hath settled into place. She'd not seen him do a whole lot of delicate work with his hands - mostly she had seen him hunt and fight. He could skin a kill with quick ease and swing an axe with great power.

But braid?

"I did not know you could braid," she admitted with a small smile as he got to work fixing the first of what felt would be several over-tight braids.

 

[Hath Charosh]

"Hmmph," he went. "My fingers are not the best for it."

Hath took his time working free the first braid. When he finally made a start, he quickly worked his way up the braid. His fingers gently worked it free and drew the hair from the braid out into a long strand.

After all the tension and the drama, he was enjoying the quiet calm of the moment. Admittedly the quiet was slightly disturbed by the sounda that heralded Varga and Shari's own retirement. It was the mood of the moment.

Hath knew that there were many facets to being an orc. Sometimes it was being brace to fight for the tribe. Sometimes it was saying what you felt plainly.

At other times it was knowing that you had a safe place to sleep, a full belly and silently accepting that.

Hath stayed to braid his way down.

"They should not be uncomfortable at night."

 

[Pern]

His admittance made her chuckle.

"I don't shuposhe a warrior hash much ushe for braiding..." even a Scout, for that matter, though calling or referring to him as a Scout never felt quite right. Hath may have been very good at the role, but he had the heart of a warrior and the bravado to lead the charge. It truly was a shame he could not have taken a more prominent role in his mother's clan.

It felt terribly unfair and not for the first time she wondered if it hurt him to think on such things. If he was homesick for his clan and family. If he wished things were different. He could have been like Varga by this stage in his life and had a mate, children, and a clan to call home.

Maybe that was just her human way of thinking. Humans did like to feel their regrets and think on the past and what-ifs.

Pern lifted her arms to rest her elbows on her knees and shifted her hands to prop up her head from beneath her jaw. She watched the crackling of the bonfire beyond the tent flaps, her eyes finding the shadow of one orc left to tend the fire during the first evening watch. Even here in Wikkerton it was important to remain vigilant, it seemed.

 

[Hath Charosh]

"Hmm, a warrior has a need to not have hair in his eyes," he said. He made a quiet noise of reflection. That was, he thought, quite a weak explanation.

"Sometimes when there was a festival we needed to look good without bothering those with smaller hands."

He was quick to work a looser braid into her hair. He rested his left hand on her shoulder and quickly found another with his right.

"You had it up when being a smith?" he asked.

 

[Pern]

She supposed that made perfect sense. Being self sufficient was certainly an orcish trait and one that seemed to be part of their blood. Pern had learned early on not to ask others for help because more often than not no one would give her any.

"Yes," she nodded, "jusht ash you shaw me wear it in Elbion." A shrug followed, "I alwaysh wore it that way. It wash shimple and I had no reashon to look good."