Can't Hide Forever (Savitri)

[reqqy]

He'd run. Not as fast, and not as far...and certainly not as gracefully. But he'd managed something similar to his old morning runs, and now slid against the waves, which eased the slight aches coming into his foot. He was aware he was probably becoming active again too early, but it was just too nice a day to pass up. Besides, his foot wasn't swollen anymore. Tender, yes. Swollen, no. He could even put his full weight on it now, though he still carried the cane, just because it tended to start hurting again after awhile.

Swimming, though, was a nice substitute for the running he couldn't do, since he had to cut his runs annoyingly short. And it didn't hurt his foot at all. Mutasim played in the waves with Jabari, the brown in a cheerful mood in response to His. It was rather funny to watch the waves break over the firelizard, though, the creature disappearing and then bobbing back up to the surface. The brown scolded Muta for his laughter, but he couldn't resist. No one else here, on the beach. Peaceful.

His shirt lay neatly folded on top of a boulder, with the cane that he hardly used anymore, the knives - that he wouldn't want to risk getting wet, as they might rust - and the small box. He always carried the box with him, though the candidate hardly knew why. It gleamed a little in the sun from the polish, the stylized rendering of a dragon stained with a resin that shimmered pale yellow. A painstaking process, grinding the rock and mixing it with resin until the ground stone dissolved and left only its color behind. But then, Muta'd had quite a bit of time on his hands this last month or so.

It was a simple design. Box and lid, no hinges. But he'd very careful hollowed out the grooves so the long pins wouldn't roll and get scratched up, lining the inside with a rich crimson velvet that he'd cut from one of the many garments he'd collected over the past two turns. Only two pins, about eight inches long, smoothly rounded and carved from the dark, dark hardwood that practically looked black when polished so painstakingly. Ivy was etched around the length of the pins, stained a deep green. The bottom lifted out, and beneath, a hairpiece, slightly rounded to fit against the back of the skull, looking for all the world like a cluster of ivy. Detailed with extreme patience, and several different hues of green and pink. That's what happened when you were confined to your cot for tendays.

It just didn't seem right to be in your Gather finery and pull your hair back in a functional tail.

Not that it mattered, since he didn't intend to give it to her in public, and didn't intend to meet with her alone. Mutasim often - didn't think - that far ahead, when it came to such things. He was a former thief, and knew the skill was...not the best. It would work. It wouldn't look - bad. But she could probably find something she liked better for sale at any of the Gathers. Of course, he couldn't use it, and he didn't like the idea of giving it to anyone else, so he'd probably just retire the box and its contents to the same place were the finished carving of the sleeping hatchling Amith and his Jabari now lay nestled.

He should probably do that soon, too; it didn't take a genius to figure out he probably intended the gift for a goldrider given the color of the dragon on the lid. Better no one see it. Yet he'd taken the time to look at it again and try to gather the nerve to see her. Oh well. In the end, it would be too awkward, and he didn't want any questions. Two turns may seem like a long time, but they didn't feel like it.

All of this, however, was not in his mind as he frolicked with Jabari. The brown suddenly burst from the water, divebombing him and spraying him in the face. Crying out, he flung a piece of driftwood at the brown, who evaded and chittered at his bonded before darting out over the beach. Muta followed, slow and kind of awkward in the sand, since he still had to be careful of his foot. But that didn't stop him from flinging anything that he could get his hands on at Jabari - deliberately missing, but enjoying it just the same. "Come back here!" he cried out, trying to suppress a laugh, and not entirely succeeding.

[kysseh]

Though she insisted it was not necessary, Savitri found herself possessing of a babysitter as she and Hepaticath picked their way along the path toward the coast. An excursion had sounded like a good idea. They had a short break from chores and lessons, and Savitri thought that taking Hepaticath for a swim in the shallow waves would help them both. Her own scars were working on healing, but... well, swimming was easier than running or excessive sweating... or Aliscia's fighting lessons. She was excited to learn how to defend herself, but... really, it was hard work. She loved being challenged, but she did not like being that bruised. It was the price she paid for being prepared.

Well, swimming for a candlemark or so would help her get in better shape. The waves were more challenging to swim in than the calm river, so it would be even better. She chuckled softly upon hearing a curious thought from the gold dragon hopping along behind her. "No, Cath, we're not inviting Ciceroth down to play.. He's busy enough as it is, and you can play with me. Aren't I good enough?" She was not insulted in the least by the gold's desire for a playmate of her own size or larger, but the implication that she was insulted had Hepaticath worldlessly reassuring her that she was more than satisfactory. I love playing with you very much, Mine. You know that. You will always be my favorite, for you are Mine.

Had Hepaticath not been so focused on reassuring Savitri, she would have seen the rock in her way. As it was, she tripped over the little boulder and squawked in alarm, taking a moment to right herself before resuming her awkward hopping toward the shore. The rock was ignored after her initial floundering, and the gold crooned happily as she got within sight of the shore and eagerly wriggled her way past her rider to get toward the waves. She avoided knocking Savitri over in the process, but the girl was still minorly annoyed..... which Hepaticath only noticed for a brief instant before the sight of over things had her throwing the brakes on her forward momentum. She had to flare out her wings to balance and then stared curiously at the hop-along and his pet. Wait... she knew them! Mine, your hatchling is here. she informed Hers calmly. The DangerousOne, remember?

Her hatchling?! As far as Savitri knew, she did not have a child or young pet or follower. She was bemused until Hepaticath clarified, and then she chuckled softly at the realization that the gold meant Mutasim. Since Savitri had patched him up following the fight, Hepaticath had concluded that since he was young, smaller, and under Savitri's watchful eye, he was Hers' hatchling. She took care of him and gave him food and attention, after all. It made sense to the dragon, and Savitri just laughed at the thought of it. Mutasim was not her child. Her friend, yes. A good friend, most definitely. But her offspring?

Now that was just silly.

"Sorry if she scared you. I see you're still on that foot," she commented, unable to resist a smile in his direction. The boy seemed to be in a good mood with his flitter for company. She was glad that where Tanith had settled was far out of his immediate visual range. Aliscia had insisted that she be supervised if she wandered from the center of the weyr alone. Savitri was annoyed but had agreed. Being prepared never hurt, and Tanith was perched on a rocky outcropping far, far above and back. In fact, she could just barely make out the dark green from the rocks she was perching on, at this distance, but it was gratifying to know they were being watched over, just in case. "She got a little excited about swimming."

[reqqy]

Jabari was putting up a merry chase, keeping just enough within range that Mutasim still had incentive to fling things at him without ever really being close enough for the candidate to grab. It might have seemed cruel if it was a person involved, messing with a half-crippled candidate, but Jabari and the boy were quite clearly just enjoying themselves. They certainly didn't look like either of them was particularly put out by the whole affair, now did they? Certainly not.

Of course, Muta was right in mid-throw when the flash of gold burst from the trees and dashed toward the waves, the candidate instinctively dancing back from the streak - and promptly forgetting his foot and the fact he was on sand entirely. He ended up flat on his butt, a cloud of sand spraying up around him. Mutasim coughed, his lungs having quickly filled with the grainy sand. What the-?! Jabari chittered, clearly amused at his minepet's little spill. The candidate cursed the brown critter roundly, before his mouth snapped shut. That gold streak was Hepaticath, which meant...Bother. He'd just landed flat on his rump in front of Savitri - what was it about her that she always seemed to catch him at the worst times? - and then spouted off a stream of profanity that was likely to make even her ears smoke, despite the fact that he strongly suspected she was no stranger to the mainstream of vulgar language. There was no way a southern holdborn girl had heard all that he'd just said before, though. Not a chance.

He wasn't sure exactly how to react to the smile. Normally, he would have scrambled to his feet, but Mutasim resisted the impulse. It would likely just land him right back in the sand. He settled for a more sedate pace, quipping as he did so, "Not at the moment, no." It wasn't so much that he was trying to get smart with her; Mutasim really was just at something of a loss, so fell back on default. He couldn't quite keep from offering her a tiny smile in return, though, even if it was distinctly tentative. Savitri truly did catch him at the worst possible times. That was when he realized his shirt was still over at the boulder and, more, so was her gift. Which meant that, if he didn't want her to see it, going to retrieve his shirt would be stupid. Mutasim shifted from foot to foot uncomfortably, until he noticed that was probably a stupid idea as well.

Unlike what some might expect, if they knew his history, or even just knew his proclivity for getting himself into dangerous situations, the candidate had nothing in the way of scars on his torso. Which, more or less, just spoke of how genuinely good he was with a blade, considering there was absolutely no doubt that he'd been in more than enough fights to get marked up nice. What truly bothered him, though, was the fact that the discolored scarrings at wrists and neck were much more obvious when he was going about shirtless. He resisted the urge to try to hide it. Muta was pretty sure she'd be asking some awkward questions here shortly, if only because Savitri was far too pushy for her own good. She did not know when to leave things alone.

That was when he decided that he should distract her. A different sort of shyness quickly overtook him. Would she like it? He'd worked on these things for the better part of a month, but he still knew they weren't...well, that they weren't exactly the work of anyone highly skilled. He'd tried. That was all he could say about it. Oh well. Wouldn't know till it was tried. Rubbing at his ankle with a foot, he glanced down, then stubbornly met Savitri's gaze. "I - made something for you." Oh, great. That made it sound...special. "But just because I was bored," he added quickly, although he could feel the heat rising in his face. Hopefully it wasn't dark enough to be apparent, seeing as how his skin tone protected him a little from blushing.

"It's really not very fun, being stuck for tendays," Mutasim added peevishly. He'd started moving toward the boulder, rather slowly, then suddenly flashed a glance back at her. "Just don't laugh. It's not very good." The boy took up the box, the heat only getting stronger in his cheeks, and turned, thrusting it into her hands as if the thing was burning him. "Just take it." Oh dear. This was more awkward than he'd thought. His eyes darted elsewhere, Muta shifting uncomfortably.

[kysseh]

Savitri was concerned when she saw the sand fly as Mutasim awkwardly plopped down, and she took a half step forward to help him before she realized that he would... probably be insulted by that. She had been enough of a help as it was lately, and men tended to get fussy if they felt that their masculine pride was being damaged by something. Both of her eyebrows crept toward her hairline at the outpouring of vulgarity that spewed from his mouth, and she wondered if perhaps he had injured himself again. She waited and watched, looking him over to make sure that nothing was bleeding or sticking out at odd angles. It all looked normal, though she was more than relieved when he managed to get to his feet without aid.

"Of course, not. At least you're in good spirits, though. I'm glad to see you're well," she said, deciding to not comment on that particularly prolonged stream of profanity. She had not recognized at least half of it, and encouraging him to explain was... unwise and pointless, on multiple levels. She did not want to make him angry again. His fidgeting bothered her, and she frowned and moved closer to examine him, shocked by what she saw upon getting closer. He had... scars, like around his ankles. These, however, circled his neck and his wrists. The shape and condition were vaguely familiar, but she could not place them. And her gaze flicked between those three sites and his face, querying.

Apparently, her questions would not be answered, though, and she tilted her head to one side at his statement. He was meeting her gaze, which... well, it seemed serious. Why did he make her something? Oh... boredom. That explained it. But she still looked rather bewildered, though that faded into mild amusement at his attitude. Well, being stuck inside really was overrated. The poor boy. "I'm really sorry. I wanted to get by to visit you more often. Just... been very busy. I know that's a sorry excuse; I shouldn't have let you sit around bored," she told him, genuinely apologetic for that. She should have been confined to her room or at least the infirmary after her own injuries. But... she had been too obstinate to lie still and had had two functional legs with which to walk around and be semi-active. Mutasim had not had that luxury.

She was surprised when he ordered her not to laugh and followed him over toward the boulder, wondering what he was about to throw at her. She was, however, distracted by the state of his muscular back. The young woman enjoyed the sight of muscles in men, and Mutasim was most definitely all male. But she could not think of him that way. He was... she enjoyed his company. But she did not feel attracted to him in that fashion, really. Or... she didn't think she did. Mutasim was a friend and a close one, at that. Not..... that sort of friend, though.

Suddenly, a box was thrust into her hands, and she took it carefully, surprised by how.... well... intricate it was, even on first glance. She held it carefully in one hand and traced the dragon carved on the lid. Gold. Gold like Hepaticath. It was... lovely, quite simply put. Oh, it wasn't a master's work by any means, but she thought it was gorgeous. And... useful, too. She could store plenty of trinkets in here, and she smiled a bit, turning a bit of a confused look up at him. "You.... made this just for me? It's gorgeous," she said honestly, her smile widening, green eyes bright. Why he was giving her this was beyond her understanding. She couldn't remember the last time anyone had given her a gift like this. Not since Kanden and the whistle... which had been far, far simpler than this. "Thank you." That seemed inadequate, but it was about all that she could figure out to say.

[reqqy]

The young man merely flashed Savitri a tentative smile. He couldn't tell if she was being sarcastic or not, thought it seemed that if she was she was just being playful. And, whether she knew it or not, he truly was in a better mood. Just not really comfortable with her here. Or with her. No, that wasn't precisely correct. He was almost too comfortable with Savitri, and that made him decidedly uncomfortable. It was truly a bit frightening that, even when she'd seen him as she had, he didn't feel the urge to flee the moment he saw her. Muta should have. Instead, he found that he was actually glad she had shown up, since he certainly wasn't going to go about looking for her.

In fact, he was so comfortable with her that when she apologized, he spoke before thinking. "You probably wouldn't have found me." Lovely. Mutasim paused just long enough to sigh and meet her gaze for a moment. "I didn't leave the barracks, but...I'm good at not being seen when I don't want to be. You've seen more than I would like, and I didn't need you feeling sorry for me just because I couldn't move much." All truth, that, but not...well, it didn't go into what exactly he'd been avoiding, and the reason why was definitely the watered-down version. In truth, he didn't mind pity so much as being exposed and weak. Not appearing weak. It wasn't a pride issue. He looked like pretty easy pickings anyway if you were just going by size. But actually being exposed and vulnerable...that he had no desire to show anyone. That was a good way to end up gutted, which he'd just recently discovered was still a possibility, even in the south.

Mutasim didn't notice her eyes on him and, if he had, wouldn't have attributed it to anything beyond her looking where she was going. He watched her fingers trace the dragon, stealing a glance up at her face to see what she thought, since he wasn't...really very good at the etching thing. At first he'd tried to make it realistic, but that wasn't working well so it ended up more angular and suggestive than a true contour. As she began to speak, though, he could tell she had gotten the wrong idea. The boy frowned slightly, momentarily speechless in the face of her smile. Had he ever seen an expression like that on her face before? It made her seem...younger. He felt suddenly warm, but Mutasim attributed it to the sun's coming out from behind a bank of clouds.

Brushing hair back behind his ear, he took the hand that still traced the lid of the box, leaning a little forward and arching his neck to still look into her eyes. "It's not the box. I mean, I started this for another reason, and it became for you, but...it's just a container." He'd gained a touch of confidence from her reaction, and hoped she'd be just as pleased with the real gift. It occurred to him that she might actually be insulted by it, but...he hoped not. Mutasim hadn't made it because he thought she looked bad with her hair just pulled back. He simply wanted her to have something that would make it all go together and make her even...even what? He blinked, momentarily thrown off by that train of thought.

His hand still covering hers, he lifted the lid, and took it with his other hand, releasing her. "The bottom lifts out," he explained quietly. She'd probably be confused as to just what the long pins were for without looking at the rest of it. He glanced at Hepaticath, a little nervous again, and offered the gold a little wave. Jabari, too, was interested in the young dragon. He'd decided that it was a good time to plop right down on her snout and look her in the eye, chittering curiously. Fearless little thing, Jabari was. Muta hoped he hadn't startled Hepaticath too much. That...wouldn't be good.

[kysseh]

So... he hadn't wanted her around, had he? He'd been avoiding her. That, at least, was the gist of what he said, as Savitri understood it. She was bothered by that, but she tried to keep it off her face. She was not feeling- oh, well, she was feeling sorry for him. He had been seriously injured, and she was worried and concerned on his behalf. It was upsetting to see him made immobile and sullen. She would have fixed that if she could, but... well, she couldn't fix everything. Perhaps it was best that she had not been able to go visit him, then. It would have made for a lot of hurt feelings on her part and a lot of anger and irritation on both ends as he had tried to avoid her and she had persisted in... well, sticking around. She was persistent; it was a character flaw.

She didn't understand why he frowned at her smile. The box was quite lovely, and while the resemblance to Cath was most definitely not... very clear, the implication was there. Not to mention, the color was telling. Hepaticath herself seemed to find it interesting as well and was peeking around Savitri to get a good look at it. You have a very nice hatchling, Mine. It makes you happy; you should keep it. the gold informed Hers, eyes whirling a brilliant blue-green. Both females were startled by Muta reaching out to take hold of Savitri's hand, though Hepaticath's surprise only showed in a slightly quicker whirl of her eyes. Savitri just looked... surprised.

He was initiating physical contact? That was a bit odd. His words had her even more bewildered, and her questioning gaze held his for a short while before it turned down toward the box in her hands. This... wasn't the gift? It looked like it had certainly taken enough time to be a gift, and she was delighted with it. She would be touching it still if he didn't have her hand captive, and she patiently waited for him to finish explaining what it was that was... well, whatever it was that was on his mind, such as what the real gift was. Wait... container for what?!

He released her hand after removing the lid, and she stared in shock and surprise down at the long pins in the box. What were... these for? There was no denying that they were appealing and attractive. She was not one for decoration, but the thought of him making something for her had her delighted just as much as she was confused. Why did he make them for her, and what were they intended to be for? Wait... the bottom lifted out? She lifted her free hand and carefully lifted out the bottom, her eyes widening as she saw the hairpiece nestled beneath. Ahh, now it made sense! They were hair ornaments, the likes of which she had never possessed in her life. She had always fashioned her hair back in a low tail or a bun at the base of her neck. Never, ever, had she had anything like this.

She turned a bewildered sort of smile up towards him, eyes alight. "I... thank you. They're... they're really lovely. I've never had anything like this before." Was her tone a bit wistful? Perhaps, but it was hard to hide the honesty in her tone. It was easily one of the best gifts she had ever received, though the list of gifts was... slightly short. She did not get gifts very often. She gave them frequently, but actually receiving one was rare. Still, this was high, high on the list of favorites, and she smiled happily at the hairpiece and pins. The green would go wonderfully with her one Gather dress. Pink was not her favorite color by any means, usually, but it looked fitting with the green.

Her gaze slid up toward his face again as she carefully replaced the bottom to free up her other hand, extending it to touch Mutasim's shoulder. "I... I honestly don't know what to say, besides to thank you. But... why? I mean... why give me these? They're lovely... but... I just... I don't know. I wasn't expecting it, I suppose," she admitted. There was no mistaking her delight, though, even if it was nearly matched by her confusion. She just... did not understand why he would be inclined to give her such an involved and intricate gift. Hepaticath was similarly bemused, but the gold was too busy trying to stare at the little flitter on her nose to be much occupied with Savitri's confusion. The little weyrling crooned softly at her new little friend, eyes whirling curiously. Hello, Little Brown.

[reqqy]

Though he'd noticed her surprise at his touch, he didn't think it was necessarily...bad. She touched him fairly often, truly. More often than he normally would have felt comfortable with. He'd just needed her attention - and for her to stop tracing the lid so that the box could be opened. It disturbed him a little more that Hepaticath seemed to be surprised by it, too. Maybe they just hadn't expected to be interrupted in their perusal of the box. Mutasim was slightly uneasy with the gold as close as she was, if only because he really didn't spend a ton of time around dragons at close-range. Occasionally he'd rode with a rider. Less frequently still, the candidate had simply been near a dragon. They never seemed too disturbed by him, though, and the north and its horrors had been fading over the turns. That didn't completely alleviate the unease.

Jabari seemed to have no such problems. Her voice in his head had the brown flit straightening, cocking his head to one side curiously. He'd only heard the voice of a dragon once before, and that was when Aslath was shrieking. This was nice, though, at least as far as the flitter was concerned. He fluted quietly at her, trilling in a way that vaguely mimicked the pitches he'd heard just a moment ago. The fluting faded to a croon, and he curled up along the breadth of her snout, his tail hanging over on one side. Jabari twittered questioningly as he glanced back at his minepet and the 'safe one'. That was all he knew her as, although he was beginning to like this big firelizard a lot, a lot. At least she wasn't screaming at him.

He wasn't exactly sure what he'd expected. Whatever it was, though, it didn't match the reaction Savitri gave him now, as he found himself just as taken aback as she clearly was. Her face was such a mixture of emotions that he couldn't help but frown, confused. Didn't she like it? Her smile seemed to say she did, and her eyes - eyes that had brightened almost instantly - seemed happy enough, but...It almost seemed as if she were sad, and certainly confused. Why was she confused? Didn't she know what it was? Mutasim was getting the distinct feeling that he'd made a mistake somewhere, and he backed up, flushing a little.

The words helped a little, Muta's eyebrows arching. Yes, she seemed sincere enough, and yet he still couldn't read what exactly was going on with her. It might have been better if he normally had issues reading people. He didn't. The candidate was still trying to figure out if he'd accidentally given Savitri something that stirred up bad - or sad - memories, as that was the only thing he could think of that could account for the strange mixture of emotions in her voice and face. So involved were his thoughts in that direction that he didn't notice her arm moving until he felt her touch on his shoulder, the boy jumping slightly. His eyes widened, narrowed, then widened again in the brief moment it took him to recognize the touch, the person, and the situation.

Then he felt his face truly begin to burn. Mutasim tried to look away, but he couldn't, remembering suddenly why he'd chosen green in particular. It was the color of life, and the color he'd come to associate with this young woman. Her words continued, the boy feeling more and more like he was trapped in a furnace. The candidate wasn't normally eloquent by any means, but he was typically concise. Or at least understandable. Right now he simply blinked at her, at a loss. He had...to have a reason? Why? Why couldn't he just make something for her just to do it? Although...he probably hadn't done it just to do it, had he? Muta gathered his thoughts, though it was hard with the burning sensation and her eyes. The eyes that wouldn't release him.

"You were dancing." That made little sense. "In the clearing, I mean. In the...skirt. Yes?" No, he didn't connect that to Gathers, as he'd never been nor had any desire to go. There were few enough in Bitra, and only the bravest dared the crowds, then. It wasn't even safe for children with two protective parents, much less orphans. "You looked...nice." He swallowed, then, wishing she wasn't holding him, or at least was looking somewhere else so he could break away from that gaze. "But I thought this would make you look even nicer? I'd seen them before, once or twice. And there were scrolls about it. So...I thought I'd try to make it for you, since I had nothing to do, and you were..."

He'd almost said something he shouldn't, there. Mutasim didn't want to remind her of that night and his hysteria. "...always nice to me. Even when I do stupid things." Yes, he was talking about the same thing, but now, hopefully, she'd be thinking of the fight and his foot, and not the rest. He was almost certain he was bright red by now. He felt like he was on fire. Mutasim finally tore his gaze away, nudging at a toe. "It's not like what you could buy, but...I don't think you'd spend marks on something just because it looks nice." His gaze flicked up to her with a certain shyness that wasn't much in his character. At least, it had rarely seen the light of day in recent turns. "You really do like it? You don't just think it's frivolous?"

Which was actually a concern of his, given how pragmatic Savitri usually was.

[kysseh]

Hepaticath had to look a bit cross-eyed, staring down at the flit on her snout. He was a cute thing and not quite so irritating as the White Thing that looked to Hers. She would have liked a little creature like this, and she made a mental note to make Hers get one at some point in the future. A nice one, one that straightened up and properly greeted instead of doing silly things.... or spying on people. She did like this little creature, and his noises were met with a gentle rumbling as the gold weyrling settled herself down on the sand, very careful so as not to dislodge her visitor. His twittering sounded like a question of sorts, and she turned her head slightly to look at Theirs. Ohh, what were the humans up to? She wasn't sure. I don't know what they're doing. But they are... happy? she said very calmly, thoughtfully, not sure if the little brown flitter could understand her.

Why was he backing away from her with that frown and that flush on his face? Oh, yes, Savitri could tell he was flushing a little. Didn't he understand that she really liked it? Maybe not. He did so jump at her touch, and she was afraid that she really bothered him. She had not intended to. The box and its contents, unexpected as they were, were very dear to her heart already, simply because he had put so much time into making them... and, apparently, just for her! It was touching in a way that she could not express. Only Kanden had ever made her something, and that whistle had scarcely taken the time and effort that the box, the hairpins, and the beautiful hairpiece had.

He was blushing, and it was so youthfully charming that she wanted to hug him and reassure him that she meant no offense or rejection by it. He seemed so childlike in his shyness, and she wanted to reassure him. But... no, he was trying to explain, and she let him. She waited patiently, her own blush creeping up her neck and flushing her cheeks a nice bright pink. She was not a blusher under normal circumstances, but his obvious flattery, and just the fact that he had paid attention to her attire, was a bit on the... embarrassing side. She tried to not let her embarrassment show, but it was hard to escape the fact that she was flushing at his appraisal of her dancing attire.

When he finally looked away and then back up at her, so shy, she smiled broadly and very carefully took the lid from his hand and replaced it on the box. How to say this? "I love it... all of it, Mutasim. It's not frivolous at all. Decorative, yes, but... useful. And very beautiful. I've never had a gift like this before... ever. I'm sorry if I made you think I didn't want it. I just... wasn't expecting it," she admitted, her gaze focusing on his face. The hairpieces would be perfect for Gathers or formal affairs, and quite possibly, they would be used for everyday wear as well. She was loathe to damage them, though, so beautiful and carefully made were they. She truly thought that the effort and the thought behind them mattered a great deal more than the gift itself, in its entirety. His willingness to do this for her spoke volumes about how he felt. Perhaps the friendship was not as one-sided as she had assumed at first.

She wanted to do something for him in return, and she very carefully reached out to encircle his shoulders with her free arm, giving him a gentle sort of hug. He was released soon enough, and her bright green eyes focused again on his face. "I would be nice to you even if you didn't give me gifts, Mutasim. It's what friends do for each other. And... honestly, you're one of the best friends I've ever had." Her expression was almost sheepish, her mouth quirked into a wry sort of smile as she shrugged. What else was there to say? "But... thank you. I... I really don't know what else to say. I really don't get gifts that often. It's sort of strange." Very, very strange. She looked down at the box in her hands, smiling at the gold dragon etched on the front.

That did bring up a very sensitive sort of topic, though, talking about him doing... stupid things. She bit lightly at her lower lip and then looked back up at him, her expression now apologetic. "I'm... really sorry about what happened that night of the fight. I didn't know how else to get you to the barracks, and I didn't think that... I didn't realize that it would upset you. I am very sorry." Strange, how this conversation had suddenly taken a turn toward the... awkward.

[reqqy]

Jabari started sending his minepet images of the gold's great head, excited to share this new friend with the boy. But his bonded seemed a little distracted, causing the brown to huff impatiently. Not paying attention! He had half a mind to slip from the dragon's snout and get the pet's attention. Ah, but he liked it here, and so he settled for a low growl at Muta and nuzzled the space between Hepaticath's eyes, crooning.

The candidate smiled tentatively at Savitri, a bit relieved to find that she didn't think the hairpiece too impractical. The blush was strange, though. It had been a long time since he'd seen anyone blush, at least because of something he'd done or said. Certainly, a few people had reddened in anger, or paled and backed away, but this was a blush pinking her skin, and he wasn't sure what to make of it. How was he embarrassing her? Mutasim didn't know. Couldn't really tell you everything he'd just said, anyway, given that he was nervous enough his words might have come out as pure gibberish and he likely wouldn't notice.

Whatever the reason for her blush, it didn't stop her from reaching out and embracing him. This time he was prepared. Distinctly uncomfortable, he somehow managed not to go as stiff as a board, though it was an effort. He hadn't minded it so much while half-crazed with pain and doped up on whatever it was she gave him to drink - likely fellis - but under normal circumstances such as these the hug felt wrong. It wasn't intimate. She wasn't groping him. There was nothing here that he should be freaking out about, but his heart still thundered with the sudden need to flee. He resisted. Barely. All Mutasim managed, however, was to stand there limply and accept her arm around his shoulders; he didn't return it, and he didn't move or lean in closer to her.

So riveting was Savitri that he hadn't noticed her take the lid from him when she'd first started speaking. A momentary flare of distress shifted behind his gaze at her next words. Didn't have to give her gifts for her to be nice to him? Is that what she thought this was? He'd given it to her for being nice to him, as a thank you of sorts. Mutasim knew he wasn't the easiest person to deal with - by design - and yet she never hesitated. Shackled to the barracks by a broken foot, it seemed fitting that he do something for her in all that spare time. He might have protested. In fact, he was going to, but then...he just froze in place, blinking. One of her...best friends...? He wanted to point it out that they really didn't know each other much at all, that if he was one of her best friends, she must not have too many, or at least not any that were truly reliable.

"You should get them more often," he commented, quietly, still regarding the girl strangely. "It's not a bribe, Savitri. I really was bored out of my mind, and yes, I chose to make it for you, but I don't have so many friends. This was my thank you. Nothing more." It also allowed him an excuse to avoid Savitri that had nothing whatsoever to do with his panic attack or the night of the fight.

But then she changed the topic, Mutasim subconsciously straightening. The color left his face so swiftly it had to be obvious, even with skin like his. "You couldn't have known." The words were sharper than he'd intended, but that was fine. Maybe it would discourage her from talking about any more of it. The moment broken, he gathered up his shirt and slipped it on, adjusting sleeves and collar to cover the scars, more self-conscious about them than he'd been in months. He didn't want to have this conversation. Was there any way to head it off? Mutasim couldn't think of one. He didn't want to say anything that would draw out another question, but neither could he just avoid it - she was too tenacious to let that go.

"It's just a touch of paranoia, Savitri, is all. Men in the north aren't like they are here, and the confidence that I can handle someone that much bigger than me fades when I'm unarmed. A natural wariness." Most of what he said was true enough on the surface. He could only hope that she'd accept that and leave it be.

[kysseh]

Oh, was his humanpet ignoring him? Hepaticath felt badly for the little brown and crooned softly to him, willingly allowing him to make himself a comfy perch upon her nose. She doubted he would be so rude as to scratch her, when he was thus far such a polite and curious little creature. She found a comfy spot on the sand and very carefully snuggled herself down flat on it, mindful to not tilt her head at all. No, that would be bad, and the pet-thing would hardly like falling off. The sand was warm and had her giving a gusty sigh of delight as she sprawled indelicately out, her golden tail extended so that it rested just about a foot's length from Savitri on the sand. His nuzzlings elicited a quiet rumbling of comfort from the gold weyrling, though she could not see him very well from where he was at... minus the tail. Yes, she still saw the little brown tail.

It did not escape Savitri's notice that Mutasim had not returned her embrace, and, truthfully, she was not bothered by it. Some people were not used to receiving affection. She certainly wasn't. She gave it when it felt right, but rare was it that someone paid that sort of attention to her. So, when Mutasim just rather limply submitted to the embrace, she did not comment or fuss over it. If he did not want it, then she would not give it. Strange, considering that he had practically sought her attention before. Then again, he had been injured, in pain, and drugged... so, perhaps this was how he normally treated people who invaded upon his very private measure of personal space.

The gift was... in gratitude? It seemed a sort of odd concept to her, though as she thought about it, she realized that it had more sense than she had previously thought. She gave gifts and affection out of gratitude, often. Why was this such an issue, then? Perhaps... because she was receiving it? She felt sort of... guilty... for being given a gift. That would explain why she had tried to rationalize it as a bribe of sorts to be nice to him. The fact that he had taken the time to make her something that said his 'thank you' for him was... heartwarming. She felt very appreciated, and it was a rare sort of feeling that made her feel a bit smug. She smiled at him, nodding to indicate she understood properly now. Her shoulders relaxed-

-and then tensed again as the color swiftly left his face at her query. His sharpness was wholly unnecessary, and she recoiled a bit just on instinct alone, cursing herself for it a moment later. She knew that Mutasim would not hurt her... not intentionally, anyway. Still, her green eyes displayed her hurt and her caution, and she wondered if the apology was really all that hurtful to him. She had just intended to apologize for initiating what had been a response of pure panic. She was speechless, even as he began to explain, pulling on his shirt to cover up the scars she had been looking over curiously just moments before. Men... oh, men! In the north. She understood... at least a little now. "I'm sorry."

That needed some qualification, she thought. "Seeing you distressed like that was very worrying. I know nothing that I say can help, but... if you need to talk or just want to talk... I'm here. That wasn't a touch of paranoia, Mutasim. That was panic. But... you have your reasons, and if we ever get in a tight spot like that again... I'll figure out some other way to get you to the barracks," she said simply, and the querying look in her eyes suggested that she very much wanted to ask. But if it was northern men that had him bothered, then there was nothing she could do. She wanted to... very badly, but she could do nothing. She was almost afraid to press him further for fear that he panic or become angry. Both things weighed heavily on her mind, but she left it. Unhappily, but she left it... for the moment.

Remembering that night did have her wondering, though. She just... had to ask. "Who's Taki, by the way? You called me that as you were falling asleep," she inquired, figuring that was a safe enough line of conversation to pursue. He had been almost happy talking about that. Or... at least he had not been panicking when he thought he was speaking to this mysterious 'Taki'. This, then, was safer then why he was panicking at the thought of... men.

[reqqy]

Although he was certainly pleased that she no longer seemed to be misinterpreting the gift, Mutasim didn't have any time to really feel that pleasure, between his own unease and Savitri's flinching. He didn't want to upset her. She was...closer to him than anyone since Bitra with the possible exception of...no, not even Z'hin. Not even him. If the brownrider had done or said some of the things this girl had, Mutasim would have avoided him from then on. There were some things that just shouldn't be broached. It was actually one of the things he'd really liked about the brownrider; Z'hin never asked questions. His touches were much like Zolten's touches. They were there for support, not comfort, and therefore lacked the...intimacy...that Savitri's did, whether she knew that or not. There were many things she didn't know. Couldn't. That another girl had hugged him, once, and he'd nearly buried a dagger in her side on pure instinct.

The goldweyrling had definitely wormed her way closer to him than anyone else. He trusted her - insomuch as he could trust anyone.

Mutasim wanted to explain, if only because he hated the scared look in her eyes. Why...? He'd never done anything to her, hurt her, raised his voice. Fear directed toward him from the eyes of a friend - particularly female - made him feel...dirty. His jaw clenched for a moment. Unclenched. What was there to say, other than what he had? It wasn't that he was angry with her, or didn't trust her. He just...couldn't think of any of that. Not without brooding or going into another panic attack, although the first was the more likely. The candidate knew she'd just been trying to apologize, but it didn't stop the surge of emotion just at the reminder.

At least his attempt at mollifying her seemed to have helped. She apologized again. Strange. It wasn't her fault, and there was nothing she could do, so why the apology? Mutasim shrugged, the motion itself expressing quite a bit, and clearly anything but dismissive. More, it seemed to state that it was out of her hands - and his. The candidate didn't look at her as she continued talking, though. Well, yes, it was kind of stupid to expect that she'd not see at least part of the truth. Paranoia didn't...do that to people. He could claim hallucinations, pain, what have you, but it still clearly came about with K'von. And, though he was willing to tell her half-truths if that's what it took, Mutasim wouldn't lie to Savitri.

"I'll...keep that in mind." It was as much of an admission as he was ready to make at this point, the acceptance of her words and what they implied. Mutasim didn't see himself talking about that with Savitri, though. If a continent and an ocean couldn't separate him from the darkness of his past...what could? He didn't like the Bitran monster out for blood - the monster that harsh hold and Lord Lyam had created in him. And he was ashamed, no matter how rationally he tried to approach it. Ashamed that he couldn't protect her. That he hadn't...fought more. That he had never been brave enough to do what Shitaki did. Or perhaps simply not soft enough, within, for the despair to drive him to that. Sometimes...he wondered if maybe he hadn't...minded so much. Hard to tell if he'd just shut down or if it simply hadn't bothered him. Hard to tell. That thought had Muta scowling.

No, it had bothered him. He'd just learned not to fight after a certain point, not to feel. If it hadn't bothered him, he wouldn't have so much trouble with certain things now.

The sound of the name brought him firmly back to the beach and Savitri, his eyes flashing up, anguish flaring and quickly being buried behind something wholly unreadable. It wasn't Savitri's words, precisely, that sparked the reaction. Just the name. Even though his face had blanked, the muscles along his neck stood out. His pulse was actually visible, throbbing quickly, but Mutasim's physiological reaction faded rather swiftly, replaced by a strange feeling. Regret? Deep regret. His chest ached. The boy seated himself on the rock where the box had lain, moments ago, drawing his legs up to his chest, his arms wrapping around them lightly. "I said...her name?" Not a question that needed to be answered.

He bit his lip lightly, glancing up at Savitri. "She was...shells, Sav. You have a knack for finding the hardest things to talk about. I can't even explain what she was without...explaining other things..." Mutasim fell silent. Remained so, long enough that it seemed that was all to his response. Finally, he stated, "I'm Bitran." How well-known was the hold in the south? He wasn't sure, but it was quite well-known in the north. "Every depravity, every vice or cruelty that you've ever witnessed or heard of - is daily fare in Bitra. A single woman without family is dead. Sometimes she leaves kids behind...and those kids either get preyed on or band together. There were a lot of dens on the streets - bands of orphans whose only hope lay in numbers. Shitaki was one of my den."

He licked his lips, his throat dry. He couldn't be mad at her for asking about Shitaki when he'd clearly said that name in her hearing. How else would she have known it? "It's like family. Only...stronger, because instead of simply being born to the same people, we actually chose each other. Watched each other's backs. Mourned each other. And of all of them, Shitaki was the one I was closest to. I don't know why I said her name." His brow furrowed lightly. "Taki was what I called her when...it was just us. She didn't much like it, but she'd bear it from me so long as I didn't say it publically. She was strange like that, sometimes." His tone bore a sad remembrance. Eyes flicking up to the goldweyrling's, he tried on a tremulous smile, discarding it almost immediately.

[kysseh]

He seemed so upset, and Savitri knew that despite his claims, it would be a freezing cold day on the coast before he really wanted to talk about the specifics of why large men frightened him. She had a good idea, sure. She was far from stupid, though she had never seen a reaction to the extent that Mutasim demonstrated. The difference between the boy in that state and in his normal mental condition was... astounding. When injured and panicked, he had let her hold him, had sought her out, even. Now, he would barely permit a very gentle embrace. She tilted her head to one side, green eyes mellowed with quiet sympathy. He seemed more youthful now than he ever had. Under normal circumstances, he was a young adult... a peer. Now he seemed more like a lost child.

Then she had to bring up that name, and his reaction had her biting her lip with concern, watching at the sheer anguish in his eyes. Savitri was sorry for pressing, but there was no taking it back now. Apparently, it was a more sensitive spot than she had thought, and she silently cursed her own idiocy, watching the tension in his frame before he moved to sit on the rock. The way he sat brought pangs to her heart, and she was nearly overwhelmed by the instinctive maternal urge to hold and to comfort. But... she had pushed enough as it was, and she gave him the courtesy of not smother him, simply moving in closer to stand near to him, the box protectively cradled against her.

The very thought of the things he spoke of were making Savitri seriously ill, and it must have shown on her face. She was distressed at the thought of orphans running alone on the streets with no parents, no caretakers. All alone. Her parents had been mostly disinterested in their own offspring, certainly, but... they had always had food and a safe place to live. Never attention, but Savitri had given that to her little siblings. Her brother had followed their parents' lead and been completely indifferent towards their younger brothers and sisters. But... despite the neglect, there had been no violence... no abuse. Nothing like the crimes that she had heard rumors of.

She flicked him an apologetic smile, wishing there was more... any more... that she could offer him. At his explanation of who 'Taki' was, her expression turned curious. The fact that he had said the girl's name when drugged... feeling vulnerable... needy. She had her suspicions, but she kept quiet, just letting him finish. He seemed almost confused as to the nature of it. Savitri knew. The tremulous sort of smile that he offered her was met with a gentler, more secure smile of her own. She extended a hand to him, her fingers just lightly resting on his arm, holding his gaze with careful concern. "I think you said her name because you felt... safe. Like someone cared about you."

That was her thought on it anyway. Virast, even old as he was, still called for when he was distressed or wanted or needed something. Why shouldn't Mutasim speak of someone he loved and was close to? The love, though... that was the key. "You loved her?" It was question, yes, but she thought he had. The way in which he had spoken to her, thinking she was Shitaki, made her strongly suspect that he had. At least he had known some love, some caring, in his short life, and that made her feel quite a bit better. There had been one spot of bright light in the darkness of day-to-day survival. She could scarcely imagine it. She belatedly realized that her silence had lingered on, and her smile turned a bit wry, embarrassed. "Sorry... was thinking. I am sorry for pressing, but... thank you for trusting me." It meant quite a lot to her, she realized.

[reqqy]

His eyes sought hers questioningly at her touch, though he didn't stiffen or otherwise react with his usual strangeness. It seemed that he didn't mind with Savitri. The hug was a little much, but a casual touch was accepted. The confusion didn't abate with her words. Safe? With Shitaki? "I protected her - and the rest," he replied, not sure where she was going with this. There was little in Bitra that made you feel safe. His response to that was simple enough; he made it so that he didn't have to feel afraid because he was more dangerous than almost anyone else.

Mutasim rarely thought of Shitaki deeply. It was easier to think of her as his second, the one he trusted. Family. She was reliable, even if she was weaker than him. But that was only natural. A den leader was almost always the strongest. There was something feral about being on the streets, and humans tended to revert to their basest instincts, where power and intelligence ruled. No, it wouldn't occur to him to think of her as safe in an emotional or pyschological sense. That just led to a whole mess of other considerations he didn't want to delve into. "I guess I never worried about her stabbing me in the back for a scrap of food," he finally offered, in an attempt to understand what the goldweyrling was getting at. His dark eyes were still openly questioning, though.

Mutasim blinked, though, genuinely surprised at her question. Loved...Shitaki? The boy had a very hard time getting his mind around the concept of love. Part of that probably had a lot to do with the fact that he couldn't understand physical intimacy very well, and love tended to be associated with that, at least among the people his age that he'd been around for the last couple of turns. "I don't think so?" Of course he couldn't know, not when he didn't really understand the concept at all. Muta admitted it, too. "I'm...really not clear on the whole love thing. If it means wanting her, then no. Shitaki was den. Not male, not female, just den." He was probably too young to notice anyone at that point, anyway. Probably.

"If love means...trust. If it means sacrifice, then yes, I probably did love her, although it might have just been my own pride. I took it personally whenever someone messed with my den." He shrugged. Mutasim rarely spared himself when it came to self-analyzing. He didn't believe in making things easier to handle by fudging the truth - ironic, really, since he did often utilize that mental defense, though not consciously. "If I had to choose anyone to save, though, it would have been her. She..." He closed his eyes, then shook his head. He was about to say that Shitaki had ended up getting the worst of it, but he couldn't speak that aloud, either. "It's not good to be close to me," Mutasim finally concluded, grimly, and as he said so he regarded Savitri narrowly. Was it paranoia that made him wonder if he'd cause her grief just as he had everyone else? Was it paranoia, or was it something more? Did he truly bring bad fortune to everyone around him? Once he would have said yes without hesitation, but now he wasn't so sure. Or maybe he just wanted it to be untrue. Because...well, there was no turning back now, and he'd hate to see Savitri suffer for it.

The boy used her distraction just to watch her face and the way she cradled the box, his regard completely unjudgmental. He wondered if he could capture that in wood? Strangely whimsical thought, that. Reaching up to the hand still on his arm, he squeezed it lightly. "You couldn't have known," he repeated, though this time the words were far gentler. "Although it seems I should add fellis to my list of things to avoid," he added, trying to add a touch of humor to the conversation. "It was fellis, right?

"And thanks for not - you know - pushing." He left it at that. Mutasim had been dreading their encounter, but now he found most of his fears had been misplaced. Savitri wasn't going to make him talk about it or risk offending her. That he could appreciate. "I couldn't help thinking about our first meeting, when you came to get that whistle. It was a curious thing. And the wherries and all. Heh. Was it a sibling who made it for you?" The boy thought it must have been family. That was probably because he kind of romanticized the idea, never having had one of his own, but...well, such was human nature.

He knew she had a family, just by the way she'd reacted to his explanation of Bitra - watered down as it was. "What's it like?" he asked curiously, almost - eagerly. He'd never thought to ask anyone else.

[kysseh]

He looked a little confused, and Savitri thought that perhaps he had missed the point she was trying to make. She was sure he would have protected her and the rest with his life. There had not seemed to be any option, really. She did think he had loved Shitaki, though... as a sister, if nothing else. He had held her closer, spoken affectionately to her, when he had mistaken her for the long-gone girl. As his explanation turned a bit more grim, she frowned faintly. Shitaki was gone, wasn't she? Dead. Something in Mutasim's tone implied that he was the responsible party, though she highly doubted he had done it with his own hands. Perhaps he had done something that had led to it... that in trying to get rid of him, someone had killed her. She wanted to know, but his reaction told her enough.

"I'm not afraid. You haven't hurt me yet," Savitri pointed out reasonably, offering him a smile to make sure that he understood that she appreciated him... and his trust in her. If she had had a friend like that growing up, she would have been far happier. "And I don't mean physically safe. I mean... I don't know... emotionally? Like you could be happy or upset with her around, and you knew she wouldn't make fun of you for it. Comfortable... I guess that's the right word," she elaborated. It was a poor explanation at best, but it was difficult explaining the concept to someone who had little to no experience with love or companionship. Well, he did have some experience, but... obviously, he had never been taught.

His round of questions had her bewildered for a moment, and she shifted her weight from foot to foot, trying to sort through all that he was asking. It was a tall order, to be sure, and she adjusted the box in her arms, holding it against her chest. Where to start with that load of queries? There did not seem to be any good place or right place, and she pursed her lips, green eyes slightly distant as she mulled it over. When she finally spoke, it was slightly tentative, as if not sure if it was the best way to start off. "It wasn't a sibling. He... well, we did grow up together. He is a few Turns older, and he made it for me when he was out on the boats one time. I was fond of him. It was assumed we would Join, but... when I was fifteen, he decided that he did not want to have to move if I had to leave when I had my journeyman knots. He liked fishing more than me, so he Joined to another woman, and that was that. But... the whistle still means a lot to me."

She flickered a wry sort of smile and moved to take a seat on a neighboring rock. It was hard to explain it all to someone when she could not get a proper grasp of it herself. Her family had not been so clear-cut a some of the families in the hold, though she counted herself lucky given Muta's situation. Her shoulders lifted and then dropped once in a small shrug. "What's it like to have a family? ... it's supposed to be... the mother and the father take care of their children. They make sure they have food, clothes, a roof over their head. They take care of them when they're sick or injured. They give hugs and... just encourage or discipline as needed. They're looking out for you."

Was her tone a bit wistful? She cleared her throat a bit to fix that problem. Having regrets would change nothing. "My parents were... mostly not present. My mother was northern-born, I think. She is firmly convinced that her only jobs were to breed an unending amount of offspring--soon to be eight now, and I'm the second oldest--and to work in the kitchens to help feed the hold. My father is just always out on the boats, fishing, and he doesn't see all of us that much. I raised most of my siblings... and a bunch of holdbrats too. It's not that our parents weren't there. They just didn't seem to care much." Savitri thought bitterly that her mother could use a hefty dose of shock. The woman was a nightmare, quite honestly, and Savitri fully intended to visit Southern Hold one day, with Hepaticath, of course. And if she had a weyrmate when she finally got around to doing that, she would bring him too. That ought to shut up the imperiously selfish woman that she called a mother. "I guess I'm not the greatest person to ask about it. But... I saw the way other families worked, and my siblings always got all the attention I could give them. That's why my brother's here. I got him out before mother could freak out over the fact that he prefers other boys as much as girls."

She sighed softly and glanced over at the gold form of Hepaticath sprawled indelicately on the sand. Her green eyes were softened lightly, watching the gold rest peacefully. "I left the hold since Mother insisted upon trying to find me a spouse. I got out as quickly as I could. And I don't regret it," she added, almost to herself. Then she remembered herself and looked back over her friend, a bit embarrassed. "I'm sorry. That was probably not what you were looking for. It's hard to describe it sometimes." She chuckled softly and adjusted her perch on the rock, moving to sit cross-legged and face him. "So... did I leave anything out?" Her tone was dry now, mostly because she felt she had overdid it... quite a lot.

((Sorry for the post of epic suck. x.x))

[reqqy]

Mutasim worried his lip a little as she began to explain 'love.' There had to be more than one meaning, he finally decided. If it meant being comfortable with someone on an emotional level - well, he loved a few people, then. But it didn't really line up with his understanding of the idea. Love was supposedly something special and feel-good, right? He thought it was supposed to be like that, anyway. Something that you felt toward a small handful of people that was stronger than any other feeling. Yet Mutasim knew that saying he loved people like Gina, or Z'hin, or T'nmor...that others would react strangely to that. It wasn't the full meaning, then. Shells, if that was the extent of it, he loved Savitri. And had loved Shitaki. And all of his den...

Since Mutasim knew he wasn't a loving person, there had to be something missing.

The boy just shook his head, then. "I don't think I'm understanding it very well," he admitted. If at all. "Maybe it's just something for other people." There was no regret there. He didn't really care if he loved anyone or not. Actually, it was a little frightening to think about, so it really made him feel better about the whole thing if he could write it off as something he was completely incapable of. That's right. He was the selfish one. Every nice thing was done because of pride, or...mostly pride. Arrogance. To get something out of someone. Nice to be back in the familiar realms of thought, away from such concepts as love.

He listened to the entirety of her answer, struggling to get his mind around everything. It seemed that hold life and family life wasn't as simple as he'd always thought it. (Although Mutasim had been raised in a hold, he hardly considered it the same thing, given the fact that it was Bitra and living in the streets is not at all similar to having a roof over your head and a job to go to.) "This boy, that you were going to join to, made the whistle for you...Why did he do that if he wouldn't leave with you? That doesn't seem to make a lot of sense." Unwittingly, he was revealing some of himself in that statement. Much as he might argue otherwise, if he took the time to make something for someone...they were important to him. Mutasim wouldn't want to be without Savitri.

"He was just stupid," Muta concluded, solemnly. That was the only explanation he could think of. "What does it matter where a person lives, anyway?" Well, of course he wouldn't understand that. The candidate had no attachments whatsoever to the hold of his birth. Home was den, and den was who you chose your den to be. Strange that the reclusive boy put so much stock in people but, well...he was a recluse because people hurt. Attachments hurt. And there comes a time where you just don't want to be hurt anymore. Though it seemed he might be coming out of that stage. Slowly.

Facing her on the rock, he leaned back on his palms, his face screwing up a little in thought. There were tons of questions flitting through his head now. "I'm sure you left a lot out. You're what? Eighteen?" He smiled a little cheekily at her. "Can't blame you for wanting to escape joining to someone, though. Is it normal, for a boy to be interested in...boys? It wasn't in the north. Or...it wasn't accepted in the north." Mutasim personally found the thought distasteful, but then, he wasn't much better about boys being interested in girls, so...

"No offense to your brother or anything," he added quickly. It sounded like Savitri had made her own den, and he knew how upset he'd be if someone said anything negative about one of his. The thought, once started, quickly grew on him. "So you had a den, too, didn't you? Looking out for your brothers and sisters? Then you know what I'm talking about." He smiled, the expression quite boyish. Muta didn't often seem young, but Savitri tended to bring it out in him, for whatever reason. Savitri watched over her siblings, and her parents were almost - though certainly not to the extent of the Bitran orphanes - nonentities. There was more in common there than he would have thought. That made him strangely glad. It was hard to find anyone that he felt even a small connection with in the south, and most that he did he associated with for reasons that were frankly distressing.