Nature Divided (OPEN)

[Hyacinthe mab Necthana]

Cillian understood why the woman was upset. In fact, Cillian didn't argue over whether or not what Hyacinthe had done was proper. The truth was more than obvious that his touch had been improper. He wouldn't have touched a woman of Camelot that way despite the fact that he may have one of many roaming gypsy caravans. Yet, she...Hyacinthe had touched her. Cillian should have sworn him off from that and told him to be mindful from the moment he had found her.

Except Cillian hadn't...

The wolf was to blame or so Cillian thought. It's why he had extended his utmost and genuine apology to her and begged her for forgiveness. It was the least he could do. Nonetheless, Cillian understood her. He had to. They were somewhat alike or so Cillian liked to think.

I am sorry, lady of the forest. I have upset you and done you wrong. My companion has done you wrong...If not for me then Hyacinthe would have never set a hand upon you and caused you offense. He settled his mind upon her own; entwining their thoughts until she could feel his presence wholly. That one touch alone showed that Cillian trusted her for he never submitted to another as he did with Hyacinthe.

The moment she had crouched upon her haunches and rested there for a moment though, Cillian had trotted forth and set his head before her. He bowed low there to pledge a semblance of fealty and show that she could trust him. Truth be told, Cillian hoped she wouldn't run off once more. If she had...If she were to do so...then Cillian was uncertain whether or not he'd be able to lure her back once more. Fortunately, the woman gave herself to him.

I will tell him nothing and only what you wish. Cillian agreed hastily.

Then she spoke further. Cillian listened.

Her uttered words nearly made him keen for her loss; after all, Cillian understood the feeling. He had a life once beyond the the dirt and grime of the cage. He had been with others...cubs like himself. He had had a mother, too, but all of that had been lost. His freedom taken away and he had been trapped and alone...until Hyacinthe had come around.

Then everything had changed for the fact that Hyacinthe was different.

Cillian wasn't certain whether or not the same would be for her. Truth be told, anything could really happen. Whatever would come of the day...the night and mayhap the morrow after...was entirely up to the both of them. As for the moment, though, when she spoke of herself and her life within the forest and of that lonesome time, Cillian felt for her.

He drew closer and soon nestled his head underneath her chin.

You are not alone.

[Eili­s of the Forest]

(Sorry for the delay. Have a houst guest until the 29th and so I will be slow until then!)

It was something extraordinary. In the two years since the death of her dearest Briony, Eilís hadn't felt such a connection. Her mind had touched against those of her woodland companions of course; that much was nothing unusual. But not once in that time had she been so intimate with another being. When Cillian showed that he not only understood her loss but had felt something very similar himself, she resigned herself to the bond between them; the bond that only existed because the wolf wished and allowed it to be. Giving herself over entirely to the sensation, Eilís folded herself around the warm creature and breathed in the deeply comforting scent of the forest.

The air grew a little colder. She shivered against it involuntarily, feeling as though a shadow had passed over her soul. She wasn't used to feeling so unsure of herself, especially not here in the woods. Perhaps it was this kind of insecurity that had caused her to flee the seemingly gentle man by the forest pool. He had touched her improperly, that much was for certain. But in truth Eilís now thought she may have overreacted a little. Sheepishly, she looked down the bridge of her nose at the top of the wolf's head. Absently, she lifted a hand to softly stroke his majestic pelt.

'Perhaps I can rescind my haste. I should not have behaved in such a way. Please accept my apologies as I will accept yours and Hyacinthe's.'

The man's real name stumbled on the fringes of her mind. For some reason she was hesitant to use it, and it was in this moment that Eilís realised that it was such a long time since she had been in real company with humans that she had not thought of herself as one of them in a very long time. A soft smile came to her lips at this epiphany, and she paused for a moment with this thought on her mind before she gently extracted herself from the wolf and stood. Stooping to give him one more pat before beginning to move off, a gently kind of smile lingered in the corners of her mouth.

'Do you suppose he will be very angry at me for running off?' she asked, walking backwards before she began to truly move along the path that she had used to flee the clearing. Her mind would tell Cillian that she meant to return to Hyacinthe, and so she did. It was not long before she came back upon where he was making his camp, her blue eyes luminous and her cheeks flushed a slight red from the effort of her flight. For a long moment she simply stood on the edges of the clearing looking at the man, her hair wilder than ever it had been and her demeanour somewhat coy.

“Cillian tells me that you will not harm me,” she declared as though the wolf's word were gospel, bending to scratch the canine's ear emphatically before lifting her eyes to look coquettishly at the man who had ejected himself from the pool and dressed. He was indeed an amusing sight, for he had not stopped to dry himself in his haste and his clothing stuck and hung at odd angles where the water on his body had caught at it. Refraining from a cheeky smile, Eilís let her head fall to one side curiously. “You meant to give chase?”

[Hyacinthe mab Necthana]

Just know that I do not blame you. Cillian told her simply enough and accepted her apology with warmth. Although there was a hint of amusement that she would more than easily make out. You could run fast for a human woman. You remind me of all the hares that Hyacinthe has scared off with his stink. He told her and hoped to lighten the mood then. Nonetheless, Cillian savored the moment they had together and alone. It was rather welcome to be able to speak with another human. Although that wasn't to say he was fond of them entirely himself, but to meet one such as her that was so different...well, Cillian was comforted by the fact that not only Hyacinthe was like that.

That there was the possibility that there were others like them.

She patted his head once more before she had begun to move off. Cillian would have whined to her if camp hadn't been back the way they had come; after all, Cillian loved affection. It was undoubtedly his only downfall to say the very least. Yet, before he could coax her to caressing his ears at camp as she had before, she asked her own question.

Cillian thought and answered quickly.

No. He told her and realized that she felt a semblance of regret, or so Cillian thought. He's more concerned about you than angry. He believes that he's done something wrong, and...well, he has. He feels terrible for having frightened you and has been attempting to pry at my mind since I've given chase; constantly asking whether you are well or not. Cillian admitted to her.

All the while Cillian had been following at her heels and never strayed too far away. She smelled wonderful when compared to Hyacinthe, especially for the fact that she bathed recently, and the fact that Cillian had been in the man's presence for weeks...no, months on end. Although that's not to say he hated Hyacinthe. Such things tended to happen with so much traveling being done to and fro through the forest. Nonetheless, they soon had returned to camp.

Hyacinthe had expected that. Mayhap more for the fact that Hyacinthe had been depending on Cillian to tell him whether or not she was returning. Instead, her voice had nearly startled him as he himself had startled her when they first met. He stood straight up and stared up at her from where he stood and watched as she scratched Cillian's ear who leaned toward her touch. He even pressed warmly against her leg. Hyacinthe looked rather...well, embarassed in that moment, and especially more so when she asked him if he meant to give chase.

His cheeks flushed and Hyacinthe knew that he cut a peculiar sight. After all, he hadn't dried himself off and had hastily drawn on his clothing. Hyacinthe's shirt was wet and clung to him but the collar had been left undone which bared his throat and chest where rivulets of water ran down. The sleeves though were down to his wrists for the moment. At least until he had begun to roll them up hastily to his biceps. He cleared his throat, too, and sought to find his tongue that felt like leather.

Oh, look at him! Cillian laughed.

Hyacinthe found his tongue.

"I...no," Hyacinthe breathed out. "I mean, yes. I think. I don't know." He said and looked at her once more. He drew closer and lifted his hands to tangle in his ebon tresses. He tucked his damp hair behind his ears; one gleaming with that silver stud and gleaming blue gem. "I didn't mean to offend you or frighten you. I...I wanted to talk with you. That's all, I swear. I'll even sit by the treeline if you wish it of me," he said and gestured behind him to the encroaching forest all around them.

"Just..." He trailed. "Please...I wish you stay," he said and his eyes flitted to Cillian. The wolf, though, looked amused. Will you stay...? I like your hands. They are very nimble and smaller than Hyacinthe's own. The wolf asked of her and lolled his head to look expectantly up at her.

[Eili­s of the Forest]

Amused by Cillian's observations, Eilís merely allowed her mirth to travel through her mind and directly into his. He was a magnificent creature and she would be sorry for it when the time came for them to part. She dare not cling to the shallow hope that perchance they may meet again; Balor was immense and her wanderings were frequent. For now, however, she was content with his company and showed the wolf such by continuing her attentions to his fur. She could not hide the impish smile that plucked at her lips when Cillian laughed at Hyacinthe, for truly the man did look rather foolish in that moment. It was then, as she watched him fumbling along and attempting to make something of his unruly hair.

She herself never cared much for such things. In truth, though she bathed regularly her hair was such a mess in and of itself that it often seemed to have a life of its own. It's lengths were snared around twigs and leaves, some hacked short in bouts of frustration whenever it had encroached upon the aiming of her bow. Her knees and elbows were scraped from her careless traversing of the woods, but her eyes... Her eyes were clear, intelligent and piercing. In the moonlight they seemed to see through even the thickest falsehoods and she now turned that appraising gaze on the man who now begged for her company. She was half tempted to let him sit on the tree-line and call a boar to come and give him a fright. This thought, though given in jest, she allowed to trickle through to Cillian.

“I will stay,” she told them both, with a decided nod. Eilís was a flighty creature; it was her nature to flee before fighting and she would always avoid confrontation if such were a possibility. Unfortunately men seemed to think it necessary to interrupt her peaceful living, and she had found more uses for her bow in these times. Now, however, she kept her trusty weapon over her shoulder and her dagger out of sight. Cillian had earned her trust and had vouched for Hyacinthe. If he made another wrong move, he would regret it.

She moved into the clearing, a small smile still threatening her lips as she came to a moss covered log and sat, folding her willowy legs beneath her. Even though she knew Hyacinthe had done wrong by touching her, she showed herself to be accepting of his apologies and stretched her hand out towards a fallen branch in the space between them. Her fingers wiggled in the air slightly, the air between them shimmering like a hazy web. Several other small branches slithered out from under bushes or trees nearby, dragging themselves to where the first lay waiting. Slowly, a thin tendril of smoke curled upwards from them, growing wider with each passing second. Before long a small flicker of flame joined the smoke and soon a fire was crackling, eating up the branches with insatiable hunger.

Eilís reasoned that the man could tend to it hereafter.

'Come, Cillian,' she said to the wolf then. 'Lie by me and I will stroke you.'

Making good on her promise, Eilís sat cross-legged atop the fallen log with her hands roaming through the wolf's thick fur. Those eyes of hers, however, were trained on the warrior's face and she continued to stare at him openly for a long while until she had discovered what it was that she wanted to say. “Are you a Knight of Camelot?” she asked boldly, her tone making it obvious that she thought the answer would be yes.

[Hyacinthe mab Necthana]

Cillian was rather amused by the woman. Although the wolf was happy that she didn't choose to have Hyacinthe sit on the edge of the forest and send a boar on him. Despite the fact that she may have thought the fright would be entertaining, Cillian thought that would have been rather careless and Hyacinthe could end up gored. In that case, Cillian would have no qualms about attacking her. After all, Hyacinthe was his friend and true companion.

It was a thought he did not share with her.

Then she stated that she would stay. Hyacinthe seemed to be soothed by that and Cillian himself was rather pleased. Yet, Cillian knew that Hyacinthe shouldn't make another wrong move. If he had...well, Cillian was certain that his companion would up skewered and that the woman would end up hamstringed by Cillian himself. So, Cillian lifted his mind from her own and touched Hyacinthe's thereafter.

Behave. If you're out of line I'll bite you.

Hyacinthe looked over to Cillian and looked almost...well, amused. The fact that he was defending the woman with such a steadfast way of being was a shock to him. He had never thought the wolf to be so warm toward another. Hyacinthe did give in though. He would behave as Cillian had so kindly put the word.

I never meant her harm in the first place.

Just keep your distance from her. She wishes to speak to you...somewhat.

Idly Hyacinthe wondered what the woman did wish to speak of but Cillian lifted his mind from Hyacinthe's before he could ask. That, and Hyacinthe wasn't about to ask verbally. He watched as the wolf followed at her heels. There was a part of him that envied the fact that she won his companion over so easily and trusted him so much. Cillian had been somewhat of a hellion when Hyacinthe had first freed him. Now he was here doting on her as if she were his.

Strange, truly.

Then she had set herself down on the moss covered log. Cillian brushed against her feet and watched Hyacinthe as she conjured up a fire to warm them. Hyacinthe only stared for the moment. He had seen magic before and knew such a thing to be real but still he found the act rather strange. That, and Hyacinthe wished he had the ability as well.

I wish I could do that.

I wish I could scratch myself without leaving welts but I don't complain.

You make use of my hands. Hyacinthe argued.

Cillian's amusement touched his mind.

Then Cillian had drawn more closely to the woman at the mention of stroking him. He wanted to feel her hands once more; after all, her fingers were thin and nimble. They managed to settle in places that Hyacinthe's own couldn't. Cillian practically deposited himself into her lap. He laid his head on her thigh and settled the rest of his body on the log beside her. His eyes fell shut and a low rumble in his throat was the sure sign of his pleasure.

Hyacinthe watched the entire time before drawing closer and lowering himself near the fire. It was welcome after the dip in the lake. After all, he wanted to be dry and it's that notion that led him to plucking at his shirt out of frustration. The fabric stuck awkwardly to his flesh. Yet, the moment she spoke, Hyacinthe looked up and seemed surprised.

"I...no," he told her. "I'm not a knight."

It was the truth. Hyacinthe wasn't a knight. He didn't have land nor had he ever been granted the honor. He couldn't compete in tournaments due to such a thing and wasn't apart of Camelot's royal army. Yet, Hyacinthe was a soldier. He simply just wasn't what she expected him to be. Nonetheless, Hyacinthe told her and spoke before she could.

"I'm a scout," he said.

He had been considered too brash, defiant and wild to be apart of any specific leg of the royal army. Except the instructors could not deny his talent and ability with tracking and his horsemanship. That, and even his sharp memory. Then there was the fact that he had connections with the gypsy people and tended to blend well with other natives with his nack for other languages and pidgin. In the end, they made use of that and made something of him.

"I've been marking the forest and looking for prospects for..." He trailed. What would she think if he told her the truth? That the prospects that he were looking for were raw materials and that he was mapping out land for those of Camelot...? He looked thoughtful. "...raw materials." He paused. "I've been also mapping the land and looking..." He trailed and watched her.

"You live here, don't you...? I've heard of those who did but I never came across any until...well, now." He admitted and offered a slight smile that faltered. "Are there others?"

[Eili­s of the Forest]

Snuggled on her log with Cillian as company and warmth both, Eilís could hardly contain her amusement at the way Hyacinthe attempted to pull his shirt from sticking to his wet form. She bit down on her bottom lip, her eyes alight and a smirk clearly evident on her lips. Upon hearing that he was not a knight she was somewhat relieved. Her posture became less rigid, her face a little less lined with worry. She frowned when he haltingly told her what he was doing in the forest. Raw materials? What could have meant by that? Her blue eyes were wide with curiosity, and her smirk became more of a smile when he asked her if she lived within the forest. When he made mention of others, however, the light that had briefly lit her features dimmed.

“No,” she replied softly. Her gaze fell to the fire, a miniature version of the one that had ripped through their simple encampment after the King's men had finished their slaughtering and plundering. She remembered taking little Briony by the hand, the pair of them running off and hiding amidst a dewy patch of ferns with ash smudging their faces and smoke burning their eyes. She thought of all the times they had sat huddled under the same tree while they learned which places would offer them adequate shelter. But most of all, Eilís thought of how they had adapted to life without their elders and how they had survived. She sighed, a regretful, aching sound, and looked back up to the man.

It was now that she trusted him. She didn't know how, or why, but his question had seemed to show a kindness in him. He hadn't asked because it was expected; he had asked because he genuinely wanted to know. There was a difference, and now, as she looked at him across the flickering flames of the fire she had lit, Eilís realised that she was no longer afraid of him. Her blue eyes remained stitched to his own, the girl unaware that it was improper to stare. Her fingers were rhythmically raking themselves through Cillian's fur and still she stared, afraid that if she blinked the spell would be broken and she might not trust him enough to say what she so desperately wanted to say.

“Just me.” Pressing her lips into a thin line of determination, she continued. “My people were massacred at the hands of your King. I was left with a friend â€" more like a sister, really â€" until she died two winters ago.” As if the weight of her confession held down her spirit, Eilís lowered her gaze and her head to focus her eyes on Cillian's form. The blurred vision she was experiencing now had nothing to do with the smoke from the fire and everything to do with the tears that she fought valiantly to keep from falling.

Now that she had changed her mind somewhat about the man, she felt rather foolish for the way she had behaved. His action had been innocent; she knew that now. There had been nothing malicious in his words or gesture and his minor slip up had panicked her on a level that she could not even begin to comprehend. She hadn't been touched by anyone besides her forest friends in two years. She had lead of a life of quiet solitude, apart from the rest of her race. She'd never kissed a boy, she'd never had a summer romance and she certainly had never been in the company of a man as dangerous looking as this one. His hand upon her â€" no matter how idly it had been meant â€" had been scorching and scandalous as a result. It had worried her. But she realised that she had over-reacted.

Letting her thoughts float down to Cillian and sending him an apology for disturbing him, Eilís stood and moved to stand next to Hyacinthe. She looked down, an apologetic expression on her face as she sat down next to him hesitantly. Her eyes searched his face before looking down at the fire again. “I am sorry for running off like that,” she said in a small voice.

[Hyacinthe mab Necthana]

Hyacinthe had not expected what she had told him. In truth, the admission was rather frightening and a sobering fact that one does not claim land without shedding blood. The indigenous people of the forest had been cut down and the notion made Hyacinthe shiver. It made Hyacinthe think of his gyspy mother and the way her people were often treated by the citizens of Camelot. Had this woman's village had been treated much the same...? Held at arm's length and mistrusted. Any attempt at diplomacy sullied by that of conquest. The want, want, want of the masses overwhelming the need of survival of the other party.

Now everything made sense to Hyacinthe...at least most of it did.

He didn't blame her for running off now. He understood that his touch could have been seen as threatening. In fact, even frightening. Had she seen men cut down her friends and family? Had she seen men claim what was not their own to take? Rape, an unfortunate act, tended to be the norm when coupled with conquest. Idly Hyacinthe wondered whether or not she had been touched like that, but he wondered whether or not she had properly fled with her friend.

The one that died two winters ago.

He had been deep in thought as Cillian lifted his head to brush his wet nose against her cheek. He lapped at her cheek to catch any tears that had fallen. Yes, he knew that she was vulnerable and that tears were nigh ready to swell over the brim of her eyes, but he did not alert Hyacinthe of such a thing as he tucked warmly against the woman's flank. At least until she had climbed to her feet with an apology for disturbing him. Cillian certainly didn't mind as he stretched out on the log and watched her as she moved toward Hyacinthe. The man didn't move though.

He hadn't even noticed her until she spoke.

He started at the sound of her voice and looked up at her. She searched his face before her eyes flitted elsewhere. Hyacinthe followed her eyes to the fire as she sat down beside him, which was a surprise to Hyacinthe. He shook his head at her apology.

"No," he said. "I'm sorry...for what my people have down to your own. If I had known...I..." He trailed. There were many things unspoken as there would always be many things unspoken even years, decades and centuries from then. "I'm sorry." He said plainly and knew there was nothing he could have said to make up for the sins of those who had ridden through the forest before.

"I'm nothing like that, I promise," he added and hoped she would believe him. He lolled his head to meet her gaze evenly. They were closer than they ever had been before. It was welcome to say the very least. Truth be told, Hyacinthe wanted to reach out and tangle his fingers in her hair. He wanted to free the twigs and leaves free of her tresses and right her tresses as he had his daughter a number of times. The gem of his life undoubtedly rested even now...as she always had without her father. His eyes trailed down to his hands which fell clasped between his knees.

Mayhap he could say he found no prospects...? He entertained the thought.

He was thoughtful as he considered her. He had once been considered anathema by the people; in fact, bad blood for the mixture of a Camelot soldier and gyspy woman. Yet, how would it feel the only remainder of what one's people were...? That was something else entirely. The notion was disheartening. He looked from the fire and back to her.

"Is there truly no one and no where for you to go...?" He asked her. "Have you met anyone else...like me?"