1230mods (1230mods) wrote in 1230am, @ 2008-09-23 18:03:00 |
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Entry tags: | anesus 1, paziter, raven |
Night Sky
Who: Raven and Paziter
When: Anesus 1, 2am
Where: The Courtyard
Raven was in no mood to sleep. She'd always been a bit nocturnal and all the night's activity only made it worse. While the others had gone about finding their rooms or uniting with family, she'd taken the time to explore the grounds outside the castle. The full moon pulled at her, encouraging restlessness, even if the moon was not her own. It made her wander, urging her towards curiosity that only seemed natural in a new setting. Rather than poke into people's rooms at the late hour, she acquainted herself with the land. There seemed to be decent hunting in the area, but she wasn't hungry enough to track down a catch; it just seemed good to be aware of her surroundings. She'd circled the castle walls, noting the windows and the single entrance and exit, and eventually made her way into the courtyard, pleased to see there was an outside area protected within.
They'd been encouraged to find themselves a room, yet Raven preferred to lay under the moon, at least for a bit. She lay down in the grass, her toes curling as she stretched her legs down, her arms pulling in the opposite direction. Her top rose with the motion, barely keeping her covered. Her skirt lay wrapped over her hips like a tiny leather towel. Raven crossed her legs at the ankle, folded her hands under her head, and looked up at the stars. She had six years to get inside and saw no reason to rush.
Maybe there was something to be said for opposites attracting... or at least stumbling one over the other at odd hours of the night. Paziter Ingret, by stark comparison to Raven's natural inclination to explore the castle's outer boundaries, had lugged his two oversized trunks straight into the basement, then spent another hour or so behind a locked door to simultaneously avoid the tumult of mingling new arrivals and to arrange his many belongings. If Vrykolas had the ability to sweat, Paziter would be -- his enthusiasm for the unknown had quickly dried up and shriveled away in the few hours he'd been waiting outside the compounds gates. He'd simply needed some time to recover from the system-shock of so many people, many of which were not his kind of people, some of which weren't familiar at all.
He'd been absolutely dismayed to find that his new quarters were smaller than he'd hoped: a bed, a mirror and a washing stand, a bit of storage space... and he'd come prepared to fill up a room with a proper work-bench and room to sprawl.
Pazzie liked to sprawl. At least, when others weren't around.
After the sound of people settling in seemed to peter out, the blonde Vrykolas had risked poking his head out the door. He'd promptly ducked back in when he saw a pair of residents moving by... he'd heard the scuffle from a block over that proclaimed that rooms were absolutely a free-for-all. Better not to draw attention to himself... But the strangers had passed, and Paziter had eventually willed himself to check the corridor again. His block gave a clear line of sight straight to the stairs and... as far as he could tell, there was nobody lurking around. Not like him!
So the Vrykolas had buttoned up his overcoat, fidgeted with the pommels of the knives on his belt as if playing with worry stones, and then left his room. For him, it was the equivalent of mid-day. He had a feeling that if he were to get anything done, he'd need to do it while it was dark out... there were too many humans around for him to expect many nocturnal residents!
Paziter made a bee-line for the stairs, avoiding the lounge. Like Raven, he was more interested in the scenery than those who peopled it. He wound up outside, after a quick look at the main hall made up his mind that he'd likely be questioned or at least talked to. Too many people and he was feeling rather (Rather? Very!) shy.
The courtyard was better, much better. Paziter looked up, admiring the teal of Anesus against the backdrop of the night. The air was cold, but of course that wasn't a bother. Pazzie took a breath in and exhaled, though no condensation left his mouth. It was an old habit... he was Vrykolas, but he wasn't born that way. Some things died hard -- and some of those things included manners and mannerisms.
He hadn't been looking, but the sound of a beating heart, the smell of someone strange caught his other senses. Paziter stopped short of the Lykos on the ground, emitting a choked apology as he realized that he'd come close to stepping on her.
Her?
Her!
He backed up a step as if confronted by a venomous snake. "Good evening," he greeted, on autopilot as he tried to make sense of the situation. Greetings... he was okay at. He simply wasn't certain that he was up to a conversation with another species. A scantily clad female of the species. It was only the training that had been bored into his thick skull that kept him from turning, long-coat whirling, and running back for his room. Instead, he stood a dozen feet or so away from the prone young woman, unbecomingly and quite possibly embarrassingly unable to utter another word.
Oh, wait. There was one thing that he could ask, and that could quite possibly get him off the hook. "I'm sorry, was I interrupting you?"
'Please say yes,' he was polite enough not to add!
The soft sound of footsteps gave away Paziter's approach, but he wasn't the first to pass in the night. Raven stayed where she was, comfortably lounging in the grass, only raising her eyes when the Vrykola spoke up. He was tall from where she lay, but everyone was tall when looking up from a prone position. He was pale as well, but that was to be expected. If his heart beat, she could not hear it. She knew what he was, and had faced his kind before, but never like this, outside the field of battle. True, she'd passed many on her way in, but they'd not addressed her and she'd been fine to leave them be for now. This, with the man before her, was her first true meeting.
Raven's lips turned up slightly and her feet uncrossed, her arms unfolding from behind her head as she propped herself up on them. "No," she answered. Her foot slid up against her calf, bending her knee then sliding back down. "Just enjoying the night. Got all day to run 'bout the castle. Though I suppose you'll sleep come dawn, yes?" Though she knew a Vrykola when she saw one, she knew next to nothing about their customs save that they were night creatures that drank blood. And wore lots of clothes. Tons, apparently, especially compared to her. Raven didn't mind. In fact, she found the difference intriguing, watching his reactions, trying to feel out his next move. While he remained unpredictable, she could almost smell a nervousness on him. Keeping him around could prove entertaining, at least for a while. "Keep me company?" she asked, her smile widening to a grin.
"Er..." Paziter remained stock still, thrown for a loop even if he returned her grin with a far more mask-like smile. Aware of the gestures that she was making -- her body language was appalling, really -- he wasn't sure what to make of the situation. He wasn't exactly the best company to have, but he wasn't certain that he could prove his point politely and efficiently in the same go.
So as he put his hands together beneath long sleeves and fidgeted long and calloused fingers behind protective cloth, Paziter fell back on what he could answer. At least in part. "That's the plan, anyways. Ahem." He didn't move. "Though I'm guessing that with the basement and all that, that there's probably no need to worry about getting indoors before sunrise," and then, "um, excuse me, I've forgotten my manners. My name is Paziter Ingret." He refrained from putting forward a hand, both because the Lykos was half laying down already and because he really didn't want to. "May I have yours? Er, your name. I mean." Best to put a name to the beast!
If her gestures were crudely casual, then his were just as distinctly on edge. She watched his fingers slide into his sleeves and wondered what was in there to play with, perhaps a weapon easily drawn. No. He was jumpy for other reasons, she was sure, not because he was planning an attack on his first night there. No Vrykola would be so daringly stupid.
"I'm Raven," she said, shifting around to crouch on her feet, looking up at him. "Like the bird. Sit," she said, reaching up to take hold of his hands and pull in down to her level. She didn't like him hovering over her, as if in some position of power that he really didn't have. It was a position she'd put herself in, laying on the ground to start with, but it was his level she wanted to alter now. His use of manners was completely lost on her, though some would say that was due to Raven being Raven, rather than her species itself. She'd never had manners to begin with, let alone good ones. "Paziter Ingret. That's a mouth full. Can I call you Pazzie?" she asked, amused.
He came down to a kneeling position with an 'oof!' -- his habit of breathing tended to kick in hardest when nervous, and having a breath-full to knock out in the first place was a little mortification all on its own. Paziter, covering his mouth as if covering a sneeze or a cough made out of place, lowered himself to a seated position and shifted the scabbards on his belt so that neither dug into the ground or into his side. Good Gods, she was stronger than she appeared!
The ground was cold, but moreover than that, was dirty. Was made of dirt. He was out of his element; one didn't sit on the ground, at least not without a good solid chair between himself and it or at the very least a pillow!
"Raven," he echoed, holding a hand up as a gesture of pause while he scooched a foot or so away, careful not to allow his coat to drag across the grass for fear of stains. Settling again, more like a nervous bird than she, he realized that his hand was still up in a gesture of warding and he brought it to his chest, rolling his wrist a couple of times before constraining it with his other hand. "Pazzie is, uh, what my siblings call me," he replied. He didn't elaborate that it was what his younger and most infuriatingly saccharine sister used to mock him with. "But if you want to, then... be my guest?" He didn't want to start anything out on the wrong foot, even if it meant putting up with a nickname that was, to him at least, a little humiliating. On the other hand, he wasn't home anymore and he was trying to disassociate himself with any baggage from home. 'Pazzie' didn't have to be a bad name, right?
He attempted to steer the conversation away, just to be on the safe side. "So. Just Raven? Your name I mean. You don't have a blood line, or rather I mean a, um. A surname?" That was what humans used. He had no idea what Lykos traditions were, but he assumed that they must be at least trace their lineage!
Her grin widened as he fell down to kneel beside her, the strength in her pull more than she realized. Vrykolas were supposed to be strong, so she'd put a little more force into it, perhaps more than necessary. Lykos weren't exactly a weak species, but with Raven it was deceptive. She looked small, slender, but certainly not frail. Raven released him once he was on the ground with her, leaning back, one hand in the dirt, fingers pulling at the grass.
"Siblings?" she asked, raising a brow. For some reason she'd thought... Well, was there such thing as a baby Vrykola? She'd never seen one. If their kind got pregnant, then they must have gone into hiding till after giving birth, and then the baby must have stayed hidden for years. Or, it could just be that Raven had never seen one before, which was far more likely. "I like Pazzie," she grinned. "It has a nice ring to it."
As he scooted away, something shiny caught her eye in the moonlight, a clank of metal just beneath his coat. "Zalaron," Raven answered. "Not a bloodline, or a surname. It's my tribe." She answered distractedly, crawling towards him and reaching for the shiny... whatever it was. Who cared if it was beneath his coat; she wanted it! "Why would I need anything else? What's that?" she asked, nimble fingers reaching towards his belt. And what was the purpose of a belt anyways? Humans and Vrykolas wore so many unnecessary layers.
For any Vrykolas, Paziter's admittance to having siblings-in-the-plural would be a clear enough indication that he was a scion, and that would be the end of that. With Raven, things were not so clear-cut, but he didn't want to blatantly offer anyone information that would lower their opinion of him. He allowed the topic to drop, more in favor of defending his waist-line than his honor.
Or maybe the two were connected. Either way, he didn't want her getting her hands on his blades. They were purely ornamental and besides, they were his. "You're certainly very forward," he announced quite without thinking, cross that the Lykos would paw at him without so much as a by-your-leave. "Please, uh, please don't do that," he added. He wrapped his coat tightly about his waist so that the belt was hidden and the scabbards with it, casting her a look that was more concerned than angry. Paziter didn't really get angry, but he couldn't understand why the young lady would go straight for his belt. She was lucky that he wasn't one of his older brothers, or she'd be getting a cuff on the head for her curiosity -- then again, if Paz' was one of his older brothers, he would probably have given the Lykos a wide berth to begin with.
He lapsed into awkward silence; he'd taken in the 'Zalaron' surname and the question that came after, but now he didn't know what to say. Manners called for some kind of disciplinary action on his part, but he wasn't comfortable with telling Raven off for being forward or simply getting up and walking away. He didn't really think that she'd listen, considering her attitude!
"'Forward' would be laying you out and riding you," she laughed, her smile now genuine rather than predatory. That was a notion that she considered absolutely ridiculous. Even if she wanted, she doubted he could get it up, scared as he seemed. Scared-- she liked that thought. "And that would be plenty hard with all these clothes on. Are you cold or something?" All the Vrykolas she'd seen had been over-dressed, almost more so than the humans. Some of them even wore gloves, lace or leather, and while the later might have been pretty, Raven really didn't see the point. They certainly weren't meant to keep hands warm.
"You worry too much," Raven told him, tugging on his coat before releasing it. "I just wanted to see the pretty, shiny thing. Are you carrying a mallet? Or a blade? Looking for a fight?" She leaned back a bit, still on her knees, her body all angles as she assessed him. He could be good for a fight, at least just for fun, though Raven wondered if she could take him down if need be. It was always something to consider when dealing with a Vrykola, though she'd never felt in harm's way with him. Rather, it was the other way around. She was pretty sure that she was putting him in danger, just with her presence. It pleased her, as always.
"Let me see it," she purred, leaning forward again, her dark eyes meeting his. "I promise not to break it."
Paziter stared at her, flabbergasted. Mouth partially agape. Brain stopped.
Then, "N-n-no I didn't mean that at all I was merely saying that--" If he could have flushed, he would have. Seeing as how he hadn't supped for a while, he didn't really have enough blood to get the point across. "And I'm not cold, and I'm not looking for a fight," he dug on, now feeling more than a little harried. His hand went over the scabbards on his belt, over the coat. Protective. She caught his gaze and for once, he looked her straight in the eye. "Only if you promise to look, and not to touch." It was the most forward thing that he had said, and even then, it was still relenting to her brazen attitude.
Oh, the panic was beautiful, the look of absolute horror that she could evoke in him. Raven was pleased with herself, for making his eyes widen and his hands clutch at that which he protected. Like a little mouse with it's cheese, and yet she was the cat-- he'd not yet figured out that it wasn't the cheese she was interested in, though it was a nice distraction.
"No touching," Raven said with a little downward tilt of her chin. It might have appeared almost saint-like, were it not for her forwardness only moments before. Instead the upturn of her lips could be read as suggestive, as if she was waiting for him to show her much more beneath his coat than just his sword.
There was something about the way that the Lykos acted that seemed almost slimy. He was beginning to understand why others of his kind loathed the other species so much, but at the same time, Paziter was simply not willing to settle on sweeping generalizations. Maybe Raven was different from usual. Maybe she was just playing around? Paziter willed himself not to think of the hounds that were kept by a pair of humans his age below his Sire's abode, or moreover, not to compare them to the woman who was kneeling beside him.
In any case, Raven had agreed to refrain from touching his most prized possessions, so, hesitantly, looking around half to ensure that no other Vrykolas were about to chide him for sitting in the dirt with a Lykos, half in hopes that somebody else was around, in hopes of claiming an easy escape, he loosened his grip on his overcoat.
Nobody seemed to be lurking, for better or for worse.
Paziter pulled the coat away to reveal a pair of gold-gilt scabbards, the second partially hidden by the heavy black fabric. It was a good thing that Raven wasn't of the Nuzar or the Parnsehi tribes, for both blades -- something like daggers -- contained silver and gold in their ornamentation. The blade that he revealed was heavy at the fore, its business end forged of folded iron. The crossguards and pommel were made of carefully tarnished silver, encrusted with rubies and gold filigree in a way that could only be described as decadent. The handle was carefully oiled, dyed nearly black and made of wood. When Paziter flipped the weapon over, a mark towards the hilt of the blade showed a pair of disembodied wings -- a maker's mark. "I made it myself," he remarked, fear nearly forgotten in the face of fond pride.
Though not one to find interest in the complicated technologies of the Vrykolas, she could respect a weapon, especially one as delicately carved and cared for as the blades he presented. The sheathes themselves were extremely intricate, especially considering the metal-work involved. Raven might not have played with metals herself, but she'd whittled wood and bone before and knew just how time consuming that could be.
Being a Lykos, it didn't seem intelligent to go messing about with metals. She didn't understand their composition and wasn't sure what separated one from another. All she knew was how to identify copper on sight and to stay as far away from it as possible. Neither of these appeared to contain copper, and so she was able to appreciate their beauty.
"How?" she asked, looking up at him, her eyes serious. It must be man-made, for it didn't look like anything that would come from the earth. She was still intrigued, however, and wondered what powers a Vrykola might possess to create such an object. "You fight with it?" Raven asked. "Rather than your teeth and claws?" The Vrykola she'd fought on her own had possessed no weapon, but then she might have lucked out on that account. Normally, they stayed away from each other, since the end of the war. She thought it best to mention her kill, not to Paz nor anyone else.
Paziter's eyes seemed to gleam at that simple question; it looked like he could and probably would go on for hours about the 'how's' of construction... but Raven's second query stalled him up for a moment. He twirled the blade on his wrist in a leisure way, better able to concentrate when he was focusing on it instead of on her. "I don't fight," he admitted, "I know how to but these aren't for fighting. They're just for show." And occasionally for blood-letting, as Paziter had found that feeding by bite alone was often messy, even with the healing medium contained in a Vrykolas saliva.
That was probably something that she didn't need to know. Could a Vrykola even feed from a Lykos in the first place? Paziter absently licked his teeth beneath closed lips, ensuring that they remained dull. He was safe for another day or so, and he desperately didn't want to walk around propositioning people for a meal on his very first night here, and not under these current circumstances!
"Vrykolas don't fight with teeth and claws," he added, voice picking up on his semi-absent train of thought. "We might bite to feed, but only if we're hungry." It was obvious that his nails, trimmed nearly to the quick, weren't going to be of much use in anything, let alone self defense.
Raven didn't understand why someone would go through so much work to create a weapon that wasn't meant to be used. The time it had to have taken seemed wasted, all so Paziter could have ornamental knives that were good for nothing. At least, that's what he seemed to be saying. She wondered if he could even fight with them if he wanted to.
"Why make weapons that aren't meant to be used?" she finally asked, her curiosity getting the best of her. "If not teeth and claws, and not the pretty knives on your belt, then how?" She's seen Vrykolas fight only a handful of times, and in those instances they'd used anything they could find. Raven had determined they were faster than light at times, moving through shadows with a speed even she couldn't keep up with. Sometimes she thought it was magic, or a trick of the light. Darkness had a way of fooling even her.
Raven's hand rose, a claw flicking from one finger like a cat's. It was a little trick she'd taught herself, her claws one of the only things she could shift without changing the rest of her body. While her human teeth might not serve as weapons, her claws could cover the job. "And don't tell me you only bite to feed," she said, scratching down the front of his cloak with a smirk. "I know better than that."
Paziter cast her another look of concern, even before she'd reached forward to grab his coat. "These are... were like... thesis pieces. I had to show my sire that I could craft quality equipment before he would allow me to work on commissions with him from other Vrykolas. They're... art." Trust a Vrykola to infuse form with function.
And then the claws came out, and threads were snagged, and in a moment Paziter had freed one of his own hands to bat at Raven's. He was surprised -- where had those come from? But moreover he was a little distraught that his overcoat might be damaged... it wasn't as if he had an unending supply of clothing, and he wasn't much of a seamster! "Don't do that," he chided, brow furrowed and only growing moreso as he realized that he'd chided her to begin with.
He took a moment's pause to slide the blade back home in its scabbard, attempting to compose himself. "I don't fight. I don't like to fight. I'm not an animal," he added, half aghast at himself for the insinuation that he was making and half strangely proud for putting his foot down. He gave her a steady stare before allowing his gaze to drop. It was about as direct as he was going to get. "If you're looking for a... a fight then you're going to be disappointed." Disappointed because he'd be up on his feet and back in his room in no time flat. He was grateful that he had a room to even hide in, even if it was tiny by comparison!
"What's a sire?" she asked, but before she could fully go down that path her hand was being lightly slapped away. Raven laughed, amused at how flustered he was over the gesture. And he'd even scolded her! Like a child! Had he been a member of her pack, they'd be tumbling on the ground, fighting it out, yet Raven was fairly certain that he'd run away screaming if she even attempted such a move.
Then came the insinuation that killed her smile. She stared at him-- no, glared would be a more appropriate term-- and sat back on her feet. Her eyes never left his as she reached into her bag, drawing out a blade of her own. It was nowhere near as ornate, lacking any kind of metal, but the carvings at the hilt were delicately done. It was made of bone and solid as steel. Weapons were necessary on night's like this, when she was stuck in the form she'd been in when the full moon had risen.
"If I'd wanted a fight, you'd have known so by now," Raven said, her eyes on his, cold, as her finger ran lightly along the edge of the blade. She didn't break the skin, but she could if she wanted to. What would a little bit of blood to do him, she wondered. "Maybe I just want to play. Or are you too good for that as well?"
Thoughts of sires were banished as the woman drew a knife of her own. Paziter backed up, freezing between a kneeling and a squatting position. He watched her hand come up to her own blade, focus broken from her words as she dragged a finger along its length. She'd obviously had some experience with Vrykolas before, though this wasn't the first thought on Paziter's mind. Instead he was hoping, worrying that she might break the skin of her claw-hiding fingers. He didn't want that -- a part of him did, but only a very small part. The rest...
"N-no, no, I didn't mean it like that," he found himself saying once again in a short period of time. He was going to have to learn to better moderate his words, that was for certain! "Where I c-come from, f-fighting is, ah, is very very ritualized. W-we don't. Um. We don't." He stalled out, trying very hard to explain but finding himself unable to grasp at words. "We don't play fight." True, sparring was a passtime, but Paziter didn't enjoy it. He certainly didn't think that pouncing someone and taking them for a tumbling wrestling match was even considered amongst Vrykolas, let alone those of his bloodline! "We play, uh, games? As in, you know. Board games." Mind games too, but again, Paziter wasn't very interested or particularly good at those, either.
"Board games," Raven said. The concept sounded rather boring unless it involved smacking someone with a board. Somehow she doubted that the Vrykolas would take up such a practice. "You make pretty weapons, but don't fight with them. Have all that strength and do nothing with it. Life must be so boring... But then, you wouldn't want to partake in an animal-like practice. Oh, wait-- Don't you bite your prey?"
Very, very carefully, she traced the lines of her hand with the point of the blade. While it was sharp, she wouldn't cut herself, not on accident. She was far more interested in his reaction, in the way he'd backed away in fear, yet watched with an air of anticipation. If she cut herself, would he flee or attack? The possibilities intrigued her. "It's like chicken," she smirked. "You wait to see who'll back off first. I'm betting it's you." Her eyes darkened. "Are you scared of me, kitten?"
"Why are you doing this?" Paziter's voice had quieted almost to a whisper. He dragged his eyes away from her hand again, a look that was almost like hurt crossing his face. He said nothing else, didn't even move, save for the rise and fall of his chest. If this was Raven's idea of play, then it was far more sinister than anything the Vrykolas wanted to get involved in.
Because it's fun? That was an answer she didn't vocalize, certain he wouldn't agree. Paziter didn't seem the type to understand her version of 'fun', but there weren't many who did. What surprised her was the sense that he cared. "Ever hear the saying 'curiosity killed the cat'?" she asked. "I want to know. Are you a monster? Will you pounce if I draw blood? Are you human? Are you warm? You say you don't fight, but I know Vrykolas fight. Is that you, specifically, or are you disillusioned to your own kind?" She was quiet for a moment, watching him before she spoke again. "You call us animals, yet ignore your own instincts. So I push buttons, to prove a point."
"And I thought," Paziter replied, "that we were sent here in the first place to put aside sweeping generalizations." He frowned, now seeing the picture a little more clearly. He was beginning to dislike Raven, though the part of him that was eager to learn about the compound and to set aside all of his previous assumptions and behaviors was still a major factor in the decisions he was making. He wanted to be able to converse with the Lykos in a civilized fashion, even if he didn't have to make fast friends with her.
That illusion was beginning to drain away.
"I'm not all Vrykolas," he defended himself. "I don't like to fight; Gods, I feel bad just causing someone pain in feeding." Paziter felt a little like he was being put on trial, and he found strength (what little there was of it) in the traditions that he'd so disliked learning about in the first place. "The only way I would ever. Ever--" he faltered again as the image formed in his mind and he had to force himself to dull his fangs again, "ever take your blood -- or anybody elses -- is if you granted permission." He said the last to the ground, refusing to look up at her. "I can't help having instincts. Just because I have them doesn't mean I have to give in to them." It was hard to hear even that, as mumbled as his words were. Raven quietly studied him, her eyes narrowed in thought. It would have been more fun if he'd taken the bait, and yet his answer forced her to look at him in a different light. He was more intelligent than she'd given him credit far, and far more emotional, or so it seemed, then she thought a Vrykola was capable of.
"You're not going to like me, Pazzie," she finally said, probably the most honest and forward statement she'd made thus far. "Just don't judge my kind by me alone. They don't always like me either." Taking the blade away from her hand, she plunged it into the ground, sitting on her feet at she continued to study him. "Don't be ashamed of what you are. Don't drop your eyes as you put up a fight. You lose your effectiveness when you do that." She didn't have to tell him this, and he probably didn't want to hear it, but Raven was nothing if not opinionated. She believed he needed to hear it, no matter how much it hurt. "And don't make a promise you don't know you can keep. If my moon rises, I change. I don't apologize for it. If I cut my hand open, you'll try to take my blood. Would you apologize? It would be my own damn fault."
She leaned forward then, a hint of a smile on her lips, amusement in her eyes that wasn't meant to be cruel. "I'll take advantage of you, if you let me. And that will be your fault now." He'd been forewarned, a little experiment on her part. Both embarrassed and confused by Raven's little lesson, Paziter kept his eyes on the half-sunk blade for a moment, deigning not to say a thing. It was true that if she'd cut her hand, he'd probably have gone for the bait... he was too close and she had riled him too much to make fleeing a likely alternative. But at the same time, Paziter wanted very badly to prove that he wasn't a threat, that he could be... well, if not amiable than at least approachable.
It seemed that Raven simply wasn't the kind of person who appreciated kinds like him, as she'd made abundantly clear. Slowly, so that she wouldn't mistake his movement for some kind of retaliation, the Vrykola rose to his feet. He kept an eye out for her, just in case she made a grab to pull him back to the ground. This time he wasn't going to be taken off guard. "It saddens me," he finally spoke, voice still muted, "that you're willing to make assumptions without token of trial and error." He seemed to think about his next words very carefully before adding, "I won't judge others based on your actions, Miss Zalaron, but if you're intent on making my life difficult for the next six years, you'll be seeing very little of me." He had her scent and the sound of her heartbeat etched in the back of his mind. If she ever came his way again, Paziter was quite willing to give the Lykos a wide berth.
"I had better be going now," he said by way of dismissal. His bow was shallow and stiff, and when he turned, the tails of his coat all but swung out as if to faintly slap at the squatting young woman. With that, if she let him, he returned to the compound... trying very hard not to move faster than the leisure walk that would be deemed appropriate of him.
There was little about Paziter that Raven understood at this point, especially the desire to flee mid confrontation. It wasn't a fight, but perhaps a debate, and she'd actually been enjoying herself... until he'd let her win. That soured the play, and she frowned as he rose, her expression deepening to a scowl with his words. Assumptions were natural, were they not? She'd been brought up with many of them, had them pounded into her head, and while Paziter had not necessarily proven them right, he'd definitely solidified her belief that Vrykolas were cold. Maybe not unfeeling, but cold.
"That's it?" she called out as he tried to walk away, swatting at his coat as it flapped in her face. "A little girl challenges you and you run away? Are you too good to stay and talk it out, or are you scared?" She knew she was only a threat if he let her be, and it seemed like she would be making his life difficult in the days to come. He was a disappointment, but then most people were. If he couldn't argue with her, then he'd be a bore, and he'd given up. Raven sighed.
"The night watches you," she said softly. "The stars see all. The moons... You can run from them, but you can't hide. They always get you." Her fingers drummed on the ground and she looked up at the sky. It was looking to be a long night.