|_kaegan (_kaegan) wrote in childofeden_rp,|
@ 2014-05-07 13:24:00
|Entry tags:||character: kaegan grady, location: carrick estate, |week: 14, ~date: 10/october 7|
Who: Kaegan [and OPEN]
When: Monday, October seventh; week 14
Where: Carrick's Estate
Why: His return after a two-week long stay in the wild.
After procuring a five-gallon bucket from the slave quarters, Kaegan had folded the rabbit and squirrel hides gingerly before filling the bucket with water. Before his return, he had made sure to load his bag with manzanita leaves he plucked from the mountainside, and he sprinkled several handfuls of the antiseptic plant into the bucket. Reaching his hand into the water, he stirred the leaves to jumpstart the tanning process before standing up to wipe his hands on his trousers.
While Kaegan’s spirit felt rejuvenated—despite the growl in his stomach—he had not been able to escape his mind, wondering if his Mistress truly expected him to return, if she even wanted him to, or simply did not care. The slave had spent several nights wondering if she’d appear; if she’d been tracking his scent. He’d gaze up at the moonlight filtering through the treetops while trailing his fingertips over his collar and muse whether he was being tested, or if she truly trusted him. Running away hadn’t crossed his mind; true freedom, he found, was kneeling at her feet. And yet, Kaegan was afraid she had assumed he ran, and he felt the cold pangs of fear at the thought of his Mistress doubting his loyalty. That, above all, was worse than any ambivalence.
Even though Kaegan had washed himself and his clothes in a stream that morning with yucca root and pine, he knew better than to set foot in Lord Carrick’s home without being somewhat presentable, so he meandered toward the bathing area to check himself for ticks. Satisfied, he redressed and pulled his poncho over his head before slinging his bow across his back. Kaegan paused to smooth a palm over his beard and blinked at himself in the mirror. He had always thought mirrors were strange—not that he didn’t spend time as a young boy marveling at his reflection before the ripples blurred out his face—but the reminder of what he appeared as to others, that he had a face, perplexed him. His lips twitched into a smile, like an automatic reaction as if he were acknowledging a stranger. Tilting his head to and fro, he wondered what his Mistress would make of him, if she’d want to groom him.
Shoes dangling from one hand, his satchel of supplies in the other, Kaegan padded through the yard toward the house, and relished the ache in his muscles.