atworldsend | action | open, choose your own adventure

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action | open, choose your own adventure

a. the garden

Tamhas hates this place, if he's honest. He tries not to - making the best of bad situations and all that - but it feels wrong. The Dark Tower is so like Yggdrasil that sometimes, in the corner of his eye - because the Tower is always in the corner of your eye, he's found - he forgets it isn't the tree, thinks for a heartbeat that maybe he can find a way back. Not quite home, but the closest he has. But then he looks and it's a damn Tower, dark where the tree was all radiant, glorious light. And the fractured plate above is stifling. The sun, Tamhas' guiding beacon, feels so very far away even on bright days. A little like Svartalfheimr, but he supposes there is something to appreciate about this place in that.

It could be worse. It could be Svartalfheimr.

And it's not all bad, he supposes. The garden is nice, even if near all the plants are strange. He's always liked work like this, anyway. Steady, menial. It's comforting, soothing, quelling the itch in his hands. Sian would be delighted at all the strange new growing things to look at, even if there's wrongness here she'd hate, a thought which always makes him miss his sister keenly - Tamhas doesn't know a lot about all the various types there are here, and he's a farmer, not a herbalist, but it's enough. He tries to make it enough, anyway.

So, when he's not fighting monsters somewhere, he frequently comes here. Waters, plants, prunes, harvests - anything that's needing done, anything folk might need a hand with. And he takes solace in it, finds some measure of peace here, which is why he looks fleeting surprised when he almost walks into someone. He's usually more alert than that.

"Ah, sorry -" a fleeting smile, turning slightly wry as he inclines his head in greeting. "- you'd think a man would have learned to pay better attention by now, wouldn't you?" There's a cluster of blue banora white apples in his arms; after a moment, eyebrows raising, he holds one out in offering.

b. a street

A lot is strange and different and weird here, but some things are just as Tamhas remembers. Fighting is one of them. Most things here take to his sword as well as most things did back there, which Tamhas is remarkably grateful for. It's always good to do something. So, when he tumbles down from the plate to a street and finds he has company, he's not terribly perturbed.

He doesn't know what he's fighting. They're like the skeletal, feathered kin of Valravn, but different - of course they bloody are - but they come at him shrieking with claws like sickles and Tamhas responds in kind, falling easily into a dance he knows well. It's strange, fighting alone, not feeling the strength of his friends round about him, not having to dodge the spells Morven slings or consider tossing opponents back for Kenna or making openings for Halldis - but then Tamhas realises he's not fighting alone.

Friend or foe? He can't spare the time to figure that out, fending off blows and delivering his own as furiously as he is, but he resolves to hope for the former and deal with the latter after if necessary. He can't even tell if it's someone in the fight, or someone trying to escape it. Either way, he moves solidly between this new party and the creatures, light flashing along the length of his blade as he brings it down, cutting down one and scattering the rest, just for long enough that he can swiftly glance over at the new arrival. In battle, his face is stern, lips curled in a snarl, though that fades in a moment of genuine concern as speaks.

"You alright?"

And then he's turning back to face the next line of attacks, sweeping out in an arc with his sword to meet them.

c. the forest

Sometimes, it's easier to be a bear than a man. That's proven generally true in the woods around World's End. His senses are better for it, for a start, and the prevailing cold doesn't touch him, and there are things that would attack a man on sight that don't so much as look up at a passing bear.

(Sometimes, Tamhas attacks instead. Not today.)

And he's better at hunting as a bear than he is as a man, which he might consider a point of embarrassment, but he reasons that there are things he can do better than a bear. Hopefully. At the moment, he's up to the forelegs in river water, catching fish. But watchful eyes may notice that this bear, huge and golden furred, is perusing his catch with great, and perhaps unusual, scrutiny. Just as Tamhas is not a botanist, he's not a fishmonger, either, and the fish are as weird here as the plants, so every time he catches one it takes careful deliberation to decide if it's worth eating - or taking to someone who better enjoys and knows cooking - or if it might even be dangerous. So many things are dangerous, here.

The range he's caught today are definitely fish. He can tell that much, though there's one that's borderline, as far as he's concerned. Dubiously, he noses them further along the bank, and turns back to the water.

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"Tamhas." He echoes warmly, pleased by the name and the kindly face to place to it. A good hyur-- Tamhas has kindly eyes, he thinks. More friends in a cold place like this are worth their weight in gil.

"I... like what I can make with plants. I like gathering them, drying them... but I'm rubbish at gardening itself." He wrinkles his nose playfully, giving a little wiggle of his fingers. He's not much for getting his hands dirty, but he can handle it when necessary.

"Between you and me, I don't get what a lot of them are myself but.. some of them seem close enough to what I'm used to. Time will tell?" He asks with a grin.

"Ah, not one for getting your hands dirty?" It's a gentle tease, and by no means disrespectful - he knows folk who are much the same, and knows their work. Morven, certainly. Sian is... well, she's Sian. Muddy feet inside muddy boots.

He tries not to think about how much he misses them.

"I'm the opposite. Good at the gardening, not so much... what comes after," he admits, with a vague wave of an empty hand, other arm shifting to accomodate the apples. "I suppose you must be right. And some things are similar, however far away, aye?" Plants, people - there are connections, everywhere, for those willing to look.

"I can't stand it." He says as if it's the greatest crime he can imagine, glancing down at his hands. The nails are blunted now, the polish chipped away-- but they're elegant hands all the same. He flicks a gaze over Tamhas though, fully showing (he hopes) that he's teasing himself here.

"You do the gardening and I'll brew the potions. Once we know how these plants work, at least." He adds, chewing his lip as he looks at a few of the plants thoughtfully. "I can't say that I know what most of them are, but.. at the same time they're similar to home." His gaze cuts back to Tamhas, smile growing. "You have a lovely outlook."

Tamhas chuckles gently at the prim, proper demeanour, though not in derision. "Well, they seem very well kept hands, it would be a shame for them to be dirtied," he says, with a tone that threads between light teasing and absolute sincerity. Ah, but he can just hear his mother saying the same thing.

But as Duibhin goes on, surprise shifts his expression. "Lovely?" He repeats, a softness in his tone. He's... not sure that anyone has ever described anything about him as being lovely, and it catches him off guard, one of his hands skimming behind his head to scrub at the hair there. "I don't ken about that, but... well." He bobs his head politely. "Glad you think so. And I'll happily supply you with plants for you to work on at your leisure - provided I don't need to sample any first?"

"No sampling necessary. I'd prefer not to use hyur folk-- human? That's the term you all prefer, right?" He pauses for a moment, temporarily sidetracked before relaxing once more with a shrug.

"In any case, anything I make I'll... find ways to vet. I'm not the finest alchemist, but I know my way around plants well enough for someone who prefers not being outdoors too often." There's that smile once more, head tossing, his long hair caught in a loose, long braid for the moment.

"Hyur," he repeats quietly, with a little note of wonder in his voice. He shrugs again, smiling. "You can call my kind what you like. I'm... used to human, I suppose? Never heard hyur before." There's interest in his tone, first and foremost, though he doesn't want to pester the other with questions.

"That sounds more than fair. We'll figure something out, no doubt."

"Hyur," he echoes patiently. "But human works just as well-- though now that I've got a name for the face, I'd much prefer Tamhas." The man has turned his day around with his gentle nature, taking a little of the wan look of worry from his eyes.

"I keep poring over the books I find, but I have yet to actually find anything of value about this place in particular. Admittedly I haven't braved many places as of yet either for the sake of trying to just settle in. I hope ah... this world has been kind to you?"

Duibhin is mannerly and polite in a way that, honestly, reminds Tamhas almost of his mother. But he's not cold with it - quite the opposite, really - which prevents it from becoming disquieting to Tamhas. He feels a little shy in the face of it, but smiles, ducking his head.

"Ah, aye, kind as any world - kinder than some, probably, if I'm honest. And I can't say you're missing much, not braving places. You've been able to keep from trouble, then, I hope?"

"Mostly. I haven't gotten myself into trouble, but if my brothers were here, they'd say it's only a matter of time." Pale green eyes sparkle with amusement at the idea, playfully self-deprecating as it is, as he looks at the other man. Oh, he knew a thing or two about magic, had an arsenal of spells at his disposal but...

Use the magic if you need to and never be afraid of that, but make sure if you get into trouble you can either handle it quickly or look worth ransoming.

His papas have good advice.

"I... hope this place has been kind to you though." he adds gently.

"Kinder than some," he says again, with an easy shrug of his shoulder. "But, that so? You prone to ending up in mischief? I could say the same, myself." He speaks lightly, but there's a wryness there, because mischief doesn't begin to cover it. Another thought occurs, as well - that maybe Duibhin will need a wee eye kept on him, just incase he ends up in mischief again. Helping hand is never a bad thing.

"What about you, then? How have you found the place?"

"Not for want of staying on the straight and narrow path, I assure you. I do everything I can not to get into trouble." Likewise, humor colors his own gaze and he can't help a warm laugh as he covers his face with a hand.

"Back home I mostly stuck to my library and just helped out when my friends needed books or to discuss probabilities in magic theory. That sort of thing. Played with my herbs and made useful things. This place... reeks of an adventuring profession and I'm afraid I wasn't built for that so easily. I tried." He adds dryly. He tried once, and that got him captured by pirates and held in a cave to be rescued by his eldest brother. He's still not managed to live that down.

"The people here are nice, and most are willing to help quickly but... I haven't talked to many. It's been hard, in that aspect." He admits after a moment. "Granted I like to chat."

"Ah, so you're a witch!" Tamhas' eyes widen a little, and he gives another respectful bow of his head. Duibhin is a damn sight more approachable than most he's met, hence his surprise, but it still feels fitting, and Tamhas can't even fully define how. The plants, yes, but there's just something Tamhas can't put his finger on beyond witchy. "I shall endeavour to stay in your good graces, then. Would hate to be on the receiving end of some hex."

He means the words whole-heartedly, but he winks to soften them, smiling still before the expression fades. "A lot of folk here seem... a bit caught up in things. Which is understandable, and the natives... they're a mite strange, as well. Difficult to speak to, at least for the likes of me. But I ken the feeling. And I also like to chat," he confides, another grin flitting across his face.

"Witch..." He repeats thoughtfully. Slowly, a smile curves his lips as he decides that he, he approves of the term, however archaic it might be. It's charming! "Yes, I suppose so, in a sense." His hand rose to his own cheek, resting there in contemplation.

"I like that. Is that what they call mages where you're from?" He asks curiously, canting his head lightly to the side to survey the man and take in his clothing and form. Strong.

"I wouldn't dream of placing any hexes on someone-- well, there was one ex-boyfriend..." He concedes tightly, chewing his lip before transforming his expression into a grin. "Teasing!" Or is he.

There's a moment, watching Duibhin consider the title, wherein Tamhas feels a flutter of panic. That he's said the wrong thing, misspoken, that Duibhin will take offence - witches can be mercurial creatures, after all. But then Duibhin smiles, and Tamhas eases in turn. "It is, usually. Witch, druid... those were the terms where I grew up, anyway."

He chuckles, holding up his hands placatingly. "Hey, I'm sure if you would cast such a hex then they would deserve it. I won't judge. Especially if it makes me less likely to get hexed," he teases, smile widening.

"Perhaps some day we can trade stories. I've heard tales of other worlds before but... books aren't as engaging as men when it comes to stories. Books may hold them, but it's people who give it life." He admits with a chuckle. For all that Duibhín loves his books, there's something wonderful about hearing a story firsthand, be it true or fanciful.

"Everyone seems to come from such strange, wonderful places, I want to record it all down in a book for myself and keep notes so that I can remember it for always. Might... be of help in a place like this." He murmured with a lilt of thoughtfulness as he turned to peer at some of the plants thoughtfully.

"Aye, I think you're right about that. Stories come from folk, after all. Though, I confess I may be biased." His grin is rueful. "My people are not much for books - mostly - and I... I'm especially not much for books," he admits, then his smile grows. "But I love stories. Would be happy to trade them, sometime."

He looks off across the garden, thoughtful. "I can see the sense in keeping such a book, though - I think such a thing would be precious." He shoots him another little smile. "Even if I wouldn't be reading it."

"You do not have to be for books to enjoy their benefits." He tilts his head thoughtfully, wondering if, in coming from a people who don't have much use for books, if he can read. No doubt that would put a damper on it, but it's not something to judge. Some folk after all, can read just fine, but still dislike to do so. And they have their own place in the world that he can respect.

"Perhaps I'll do that, then. And, should you ever require something glanced at, I would offer my services. About all I do is read. Keeps me out of that aforementioned trouble." He adds in a conspiratorial voice.

"True enough," he replies, with an easy grin. Even if he's not the one doing the reading, he's benefitted from them. The information in Gwydion's book was invaluable, if complicated, and how many times has Morven helped them with her knowledge?

But as Duibhin speaks on, his expression slackens, gratitude shining through surprise. He's touched by that offer, deeply so. Even if Duibhin likes reading, that he'd offer to take time away from reading what he wants to for Tamhas' sake is very kind.

"Thank you. Truly. I'll keep that in mind." His smile is warm with appreciation as he dips his head in a grateful nod. "And, if I can... hm. Carry some books? That'd probably be what I was best for," he laughs, "or the keeping you out of trouble. But if I can assist, I will, gladly."

Keen eyes spot that gratitude and he wonders just how much kindness this man has received in his life. He doesn't seek to presume though, merely grinning at the offer to carry books with a delighted laugh.

"That could work in trade! I'm ah... not as strong as I look?" He glances at himself, shrugging. "As for the trouble-- I could tell you stories of that. There's a reason I keep to my library." He moves to the next row of plants, peering at them curiously, lifting a leaf with one finger. "My first foray into my father's business-- he's a merchant, you see, and a very good one at that," he offers, glancing up at Tamhas with a wry smile. "I was meant to talk to a shiphand about a missing load of cargo. Of course that was the one shiphand who worked with pirates and well... my brother had to rescue me. On the plus side, we made some friends with the rescuers but."

He straightens, giving a shrug. It's a funny story now. "Needless to say I didn't attempt that again."

"I'm at least as strong as I look," Tamhas muses, smiling at the other with a lilt of humour. He trails after Duibhin as he goes, watching him inspect the plants, listening to him speak. Tamhas isn't used to having friends who speak openly about much at all - the difference is always refreshing. Though, as the story goes on he looks suitably taken aback, and retroactively concerned.

"Gods! That must have been... an ordeal." But Duibhin seems to be able to look back on it easily, and he's clearly fine now. Heartening, though Tamhas can't help but think about his own experiences. He glances off at nothing, brow furrowing, before he draws himself back to the moment and eases. "Think most would probably prefer a library, after that," he says, with a tiny, wry curl to his mouth.

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