Sera paused for a few seconds, gathering her thoughts into one suitable, coherent phrase. She stared deep into his yellow eyes with her own, hoping to pry into the soul he hid beneath his facade. Taking hold of his forearm, she began to speak.

"I want to go home."
------
Holan took a long drag from the spliff and flicked it away into the shifting sands. He lifted the revolver and held it out before him, peeping an image of Qalim's chest in his mind. The image was a few days old and he was not totally sure it would strike, but the chances he wore a different cloak were not likely. He fired off a shot toward Filistine, keeling over in pain. It grew worse each time he fired, as if it were killing him deep inside, but every time the pain struck, it was gone two seconds later and he felt fine. Breathing a sigh of relief after recovering, he smiled.

"Just a test."
___________

Avia smiled back, blushing, after Aranida's question.

"Thank you, sister, but we have some time until dinner. I'll need some help prepping, if you know your way around the kitchen. Ildan should be going to the market later to pick up some ingredients after the fields, because the father knows I can't go there. I also should be doing my part for the crops, but I guess I'm exempt from it for now."

Avia carefully walked over to a basket containing a variety of vegetables.

"I have enough to either make a Highland stew, all we'll need is Ildan to grab some meat and blood from a local pig, or we can have Caldeirada if he can still find fish by the time he gets to the market. However, if you want I can take requests."

The small coil of rope came undone. Nothing happened. The end was burnt. There was nothing else noteworthy in the wreckage for Lucien, as far as he could see.

However, he heard the whip crack of a bullet's supersonic passage through the air.

---

"I want to go home."

Qalim wasn't shocked just disappointed.

"I understand. This world holds not what you wished to see. But if I can ask, can you wait until tomorrow? I do not want you to leave empty handed."

There was only one thing he wished for her to do. He had requested Abdullah just for her.

---

"Good night," Bahaa said to his practice partner before turning to the man he intentionally ignored, "Get the flint in your pack. Use it."

There were faint lights coming from the window before he fished the journal out of his pocket and returned to chronicling the day's events.

Thomas lay on the ground, not sure exactly what had happened. One moment, he was standing in front of the kid, the next, he was flat on the ground. Falst spoke to him, laughing. "Put that thing away." He was obviously amused at the scene before him.

"Or have you already forgotten that he's been tasked to immediately report suspicious behavior from either of us?" Falst then turned to the boy. "Impressive work, kid. Say, you said something earlier about being a "child of the street". I assume, then, that you know how to build a proper fire?"

Bahaa said, "Good night", to Thomas, and then turned to Falst. "Get the flint in your pack. Use it."

This time, it was Thomas's turn to laugh. "Don't worry, I'll get a fire going, before he decides to flip you too." He pulled his flint out, and striking it with his knife, started a fire.

His mood having taken a turn for the better, he looked at Falst. "So, what do you have to eat?"

Bahaa's demeanor had changed radically from when he was around Aranida and Avia. And not pleasantly. Falst suppose the boy had no reason to respect the two strangers he was now with now that he didn't have any need for their cooperation. Thomas chuckled.

"Don't worry, I'll get a fire going, before he decides to flip you too." Falst watched as he pulled out a bar of flint and effortlessly started a small flame.
Flint is such a crutch. He thought. "So, what do you have to eat?" The stranger inquired.

"Well," Falst responded after thoroughly stroking his bruised ego. He looked into his satchel. "Take your pick. We've got dried meat, dried meat, dried meat, and... OH! Look at that, some dried fruit. I don't know about you, but I'm in the mood for something a little less... dry. I saw a small pond a ways to the east of here, so I'm gonna go catch some fish and cook myself a proper meal. You... You stay here and watch the kid." Falst got up to leave, taking with him a large net from his supplies.

As Falst got up to leave, Bahaa pulled out the blade that the scary miss Lady Aranida had made him practice with, raising it to plain view of both of them and then tapped it with his writing implement making a distinctive sound. He didn't speak as the pale moon reflected in his eyes and the blade he held. The message was pretty clear. "Stay here or there will be trouble."

Bahaa personally felt little need to bother the scary miss Lady Aranida. Do these men not know how terrifying she was? Did they not know, even with the way she carried herself or the way she threatened her own men? Clearly they were stupid and ignorant, unlike himself, but he didn't feel the need to tell them that as he was silently satisfied with his own superiority over them in his knowledge.

Falst looked at him. "Well, Take your pick. We've got dried meat, dried meat, dried meat, and... OH! Look at that, some dried fruit. I don't know about you, but I'm in the mood for something a little less... dry. I saw a small pond a ways to the east of here, so I'm gonna go catch some fish and cook myself a proper meal. You... You stay here and watch the kid."

As he got up, he pulled a large net out of his pouch. Bahaa pulled out a knife, and, raising it up in the air, tapped it against some kind of pencil. He didn't speak, but then again, he didn't need to. He sent the message with his eyes. Thomas didn't like him. He seemed arrogant, full of himself. Exactly the kind of person Thomas had been around his entire life.

He would be very careful around this kid. He appeared to have 2 different personality's. One that he showed around Aranida, and one around them. He decided to study this further, and see if he could figure out why.

Thomas reached into his pack, and, directing his words toward Falst, said, "I don't know about you, but I'm starving for some dried meat".

Falst was about to depart when he heard a sharp tapping noise. He turned over to see Bahaa glaring at him, a knife glinting in his hand. A silent threat perhaps? Either way, Falst got the feeling the boy wasn't particularly keen on the idea of him leaving.

"I don't know about you, but I'm starving for some dried meat." Thomas said, indicating that he felt the same way.

Falst sighed, resigned, as he returned the net to his bag and sat down at the fire. Wordlessly, he pulled a hunk of dehydrated beef from his satchel and began to eat. He glanced back and forth between Thomas and the boy as he chewed, not quite satisfied with the information he'd gathered about them. Thomas was a former beggar and changed his mood more often than the wind did direction. Bahaa seemed complacent enough when he was around Aranida. When he wasn't, however, he had the demeanor of an adult. The way he regarded both Falst and Thomas indicated that he fostered a sense of superiority. Whether this was due to the fact that he could have Aranida there in an instant, the thief wasn't sure.

There was one thing he did know. All three of them were used to sleeping under open sky.

Never one to shy away from new food, Aranida was eager to try out the dishes Avia had described. "Honestly," she said with a smile "Both dishes sound delicious, which would be of the least trouble to you and your husband to make? I would be fine with that. A home cooked meal is most welcomed after days of riding. I'd be glad to help you in the kitchen, but you'd have to tell me exactly what to do" she said with a laugh "Unfortunately, I have been spoiled by years of having most of my needs tailored to." It wasn't that she couldn't cook really, it's just that the extent of her cooking knowledge was limited to cooking up rations over a crude fire. She never really had to know more than that, seeing as she was not only the commander of the Dragon Guard, but the head of the House of Lancaster.

OOC: yeah... that's weird... uh, it's day in the east and night in the north? Okay, I guess it doesn't matter if I just run these stories on separate cycles anyway.
---------
"I-I guess I could stay one more day," Sera stammered. "But you need to tell me something in return."

She stared upon his rough face with her innocent gaze, fear and sadness all enveloped in those pools of yellow. Sera no longer could take it. She tried to ignore it, to turn a blind eye, but even the people she thought she could trust the most were not what she believed at first to be. Fiercely tugging his arm, she cried with all her might, tears beginning to stream down her face.

"Why do you kill each other?! What's wrong with you?! You and Tyr... you both act like it's nothing! I don't understand how you can travel around inflicting so much pain and devastation on people and how they can do it to you! I once thought you of all people were quiet and kind, but you're just like Tyr and Lear's gang! You revert to some stage where you have to kill! You don't have to do this! You don't have to kill everyone! Why can't you all just get along?! I just don't understand you at all!"
______________

Ildan walked around the cottage, carrying over his shoulder a sedated small pig. He stopped by the side and stared at the strange sight of three men camping out beside his house. Rubbing his face, he ignored them and dropped the pig nearby.

"I do too much work to deal with this s***," he muttered under his breath, taking out a knife and slitting the pig's throat.

He quickly pulled a bucket to his side and held the pig over it, draining the blood. When the pig was drained to the fullest extent, he dropped it to the ground again and began to expertly cut the sections of meat. Without another work he stood up and grabbed another, larger bucket and threw each cut of meat inside it. He cleaned out the rest of the skin and hung it along a line to dry, throwing other miscellaneous parts of the pig into a small cup. Wiping his hands on one another, he cleaned the knife and stored it and then took the two buckets toward the cottage.

Ildan entered the kitchen and placed the buckets near the crackling fire, over which a large pot was hung. Aranida and Avia had already cut up the vegetables and threw them in the stew and Ildan rinsed the meat and, after cutting each up, dropped some into the pot. The rest would be stored away for production of jerky later. Avia smiled as she glanced over to watch him work. For the first time she was truly happy again. Even if the baby died, she was glad she was alive and had a purpose in life.

Ildan rose his head after finishing his work.

"I assume the little campers outside are yours," he said to Aranida. "When the stew is done, invite them in to eat. I'm going to rest until dinner."

With that he left the kitchen and set up his easel in the center room. Taking out a nearly finished portrait, he paused as he stared at it. It was of a mother and her child. A few details here and there had yet to be be added, but as a whole it still radiated a sense of joy and peace. He sat down and looked over the painting a bit longer. He had it hidden away for a while, hoping to have given it to Avia as a present when she returned, but he was overcome with sadness as he viewed it. Avia returning was not as happy as he hoped. The only thing that he saw in the painting was his own failure. A dead child and a physically damaged mother-not-to-be. There was no time to show her the painting, there never would be. He couldn't even look at his own work anymore, it was sickening and crude. Nothing was beautiful, it was ugly and malformed and he created it. He created the dead child and the physical harm through his own inability. He was a farmer who dreamed of being an artist and somehow was able to marry the most beautiful woman of the yellow eyes, but nothing ever could ever be what he hoped, everything was a disappointment, and no matter how hard to worked to carve out an honest life, it never came to fruition.

Ildan stood up and took the painting outside. He walked out to the fire in front of his house and stood above the three stragglers, holding his painting in from of himself. He closed his eyes, tossed it into the fire and walked back inside the cottage.

((You could say the sun is setting as we were feasting if you were a GM who could think on their feet.))
Qalim was taken aback by her outburst. But he understood her position. She was from the garden of the Faraway Father, a place that knew not death, disease or struggle. It was his mistake to have treated her like he would any one else. She was a stranger, an alien, and though human in shape, shared completely different values and way of thought than others he met would. Qalim sighed. He should have known better.

"Because we are mortal we hold our own lives dear. To maintain it is a struggle. It is something that may be completely foreign to you in your heaven. I will not judge you if it is so. Each breath we take, each step we make, we may have to do so at the expense of others. If someone was to kill you, would let them? It matters not the reason they wanted to kill you. Perhaps it is revenge for a slight you long forgot, or perhaps it would bring about the salvation of the entire world, it matters not one bit. Would you not hold your own life dearer than theirs? Is it a sin to want to live? Or is it more cowardice to run away from the natural struggle of life?

"Observe the natural order, where a wolf must kill the rabbit to live. Or perhaps where we ourselves must kill other animals. Why do you not question this also? Is it only because they do not think like us? Are their lives of no value to you as well? Think back and remember, who was it that shaped this world so that only those willing to fight and perhaps kill will prosper?

"And perhaps you forget that in all our madness, it is a madness that we have chosen for ourselves. I have chosen to live. I have chosen to kill those who would kill me. I have chosen to not take pleasure in killing. Others may have taken different choices. God has given us choice, and what choices we make is what defines us. That is why though we may share common traits, we are each unique.

"Because we are unique we have differences that must be settled. Some through violence, some through logical discourse. This too is also a choice. Do you simply expect someone other than me, or maybe Tyr, to readily submit to you? I have never questioned you so far on whence you came because I chose not to. Vizier Abdullah has granted me privilege because he chose to believe my words. Never have I, since I met you, required convincing. But what of others? How will you show them that the choices you make and the values you hold dear is a choice worth making?

"Perhaps I should have dealt with you like a child. Shielding you away from the violence and the strife until you were ready but I chose not to. I chose to treat you as I would an equal and so here we are with your desire to return home and damn us all. Is then my choice wrong?"

Of that tirade, almost all of it was based on his own personal views. Would she realise that Tyr or any other would think differently? Or would she wrongly cling to his word like fanatics who clung to militant gospel?

---

Bahaa had waited until the angry man that had slaughtered the pig had gone back inside before he turn to the thief a small glint in his eye. He could see they were going to be eating well inside. His suspicions were confirmed when the man came back out to burn a painting on their fire. The smell carried itself through the air. One the man was back inside he spoke to the thief with a grin on his face.

"If you went to fish, you would've have missed this," Bahaa made a sniffing noise, "They are having stew. God willing they will leave some for us."

The man from earlier came the cottage, carrying a small pig. He then stopped by the side and stared at them. Thomas was confused, until he realized that he wasn't at the house when Aranida ordered them to camp outside. The man then just rubbed his face, and dropped the pig nearby. Thomas watched as he quickly killed the pig, with the air of a man that had a lot of experience with killing pigs. After he was done, he went back inside.

A few minutes later, he came back out, holding a painting. He walked out to their fire, and just stood there, holding his painting toward them. Is he showing it to us?, Thomas wondered. His question was soon answered, as the man closed his eyes, tossed it into the fire and walked back inside the cottage.

Bahaa looked over a Falst, Grinning. "If you went to fish, you would've have missed this," He then sniffed. "They are having stew. God willing they will leave some for us."

Thomas looked over at him. "I'm impressed, kid." He quickly continued, before either Falst or Bahaa answered. "And, yes. I know that's not much of a compliment."

He looked into his pack again. "I don't know about you two, but I'm still hungry for something a little less...dry." He pulled out 3 apples, one's that he had bought with the last of his money, back when he was in the city.

"Either of you want one while we wait?"

Falst watched silently as Avia's husband quickly slaughtered a pig, then disappeared into the cottage. The man returned shortly, carrying a canvas. After glancing briefly at the campers, he tossed it into the flame. Surprised, the thief quickly tried to get a look at the painting before it was incinerated by the blaze. It wasn't a bad piece, not by any means. Incomplete, perhaps, but still very well made. It was a portrait of a woman, cradling a child in her arms. Before Falst had time to register any more detail, the fire consumed the flammable oil-based paint. Perplexed by the Ildan's actions, he watched the man as he returned to the cottage without a word. Sorrow practically emanated from his form.

This served only to confuse Falst further. The man's wife had just safely returned home to him after having disappeared without a trace. Was it not a time for celebration? If anything, he was curious about the painting. The woman it depicted could easily have been Avia, but as far as Falst was aware, the couple didn't have a child. He decided he would have to ask about it later. Bahaa spoke again, interrupting his thoughts. People talking tended to do that.

"If you went to fish, you would've have missed this," The boy said, a smarmy grin on his face. He sniffed the air. "They are having stew. God willing they will leave some for us."
Now that he thought about it, he could faintly smell it, too, a delicious scent radiating from the cottage. Unsatisfied with the meager parcel of meat he had partaken of, stew sounded very alluring.

"I'm impressed, kid. And, yes. I know that's not much of a compliment." Thomas responded.
"I don't know about you two, but I'm still hungry for something a little less...dry." The man pulled out three fresh, ripe-looking apples. Where he had obtained them, Falst didn't know. "Either of you want one while we wait?"

The thief dismissed the idea with a wave of his hand. He was used to waiting.

She and Avia made idle small talk as they prepared a large pot of stew. They chopped up fresh vegetables gathered from the farm and waited for Ildan to come home. She watched as he came in with the buckets of fresh meat and put it into the stew. Aranida had a good hunch that this meal was going to be very good.

"I assume the little campers outside are yours," he said to Aranida. "When the stew is done, invite them in to eat. I'm going to rest until dinner."

She nodded and uttered a quiet thanks, but he had already walked away. She had taken note of his demeanour and noticed that despite the expected tiredness one would expect after a long day of work, there was an undertone of sadness as well. It made sense really, he had nearly lost his wife, and he had lost his first unborn child. Would they even ever be able to have children again? Aranida sincerely hoped they would.

Her head perked upwards as the scent of the cooked stew began to fill the room with its sweet aroma. Taking one of the smaller sized pots she ladled some of the stew into it and was given three bowls by Avia. Promising to quickly return she left the kitchen, managing to carry everything and walked to the front porch. She walked by Ildan, but he seemed to be in his own world, completely unaware as he passed her.

"Alright boys," she called out "dinner is served" and she placed, the bowls, the spoons and the pot on the ground with a genuine smile.

Sera shook her head, tears streaming down her pale face. She had nothing left to say, but she did not feel any different than before. She sniffed her nose and wiped her face with her right sleeve.

"At this point, I wouldn't be able to change anything if I went back or not. I believe God has watched everything that happened already. I don't want to see you die, but he might choose judgment in the end."
__________

Ildan stood up as Aranida left to serve the stragglers. Avia came up to him and wrapped her arms around his body, resting her head in his chest. He held her in a natural response and she felt his deep, heavy breaths. Raising her head, she looked up to him.

"Ildan, you get like this when you're depressed," Avia asked compassionately. "What's wrong?"

Ildan released his arms and held her bare shoulders.

"You, I and our guest need to talk at dinner."

Ildan disappeared into the cottage, quickly replaced by the sight of Aranida carrying a pot and some dishes. "Alright boys, dinner is served" She called, placing what she was holding on the ground. If he wasn't mistaken, Falst could have sworn he saw her smile. Quite the oddity.
He sat, waiting for the others to move, but when they remained still, he reluctantly got up himself to get everything himself, regarding the commander with a nod. He brought the pot and bowls over to the fire, which was now little more than a bunch of flickering embers. After placing the cauldron on the smouldering pile to keep its contents warm, he passed out the bowls and spoons, leaving the large serving ladle in the pot. He waited for the others to serve themselves before taking any.