Nivak Aldurral (deadlegionnivak) wrote in thedas, @ 2010-03-18 23:10:00 |
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Entry tags: | ! scene, ! thread, & 9:45 (4) eluviesta, @ falina bjyr, @ nivak aldurral |
Backscene: Ducks and Dwarves
Who: Falina Bjyr, Nivak Aldurral
Where: Redcliffe Village
When: The day the party from Orzammar is passing through, 9:45 Eluviesta
Summary: Nivak is merely bored and killing time when he goes to investigate the lakeshore, unaware that one of the young dwarven recruits is someone he met once before and dismissed from memory after their parting. Falina, on the other hand, remembers him very clearly…
Rating: E for Everyone, may change if references to the violent ending of Lost are made; D for Ducks and Dorfs (one Dead, one Duster)
Status: In-Progress
Surface animals were strange. There were things like horses, large and powerful, more graceful than any bronto. There were things like Mabari, handsome and intelligent beasts that he already found he admired. There were even things like spiders, reassuringly familiar, except for the fact that they were so damn small. And then there were… these things: some variety of bird, fat and beady-eyed, floating around on the water as if weightless, dumb and tame and making strange kwak kwak sounds at him. He could have drawn his bow and shot the whole flock before the things ever realized he was a threat, he thought, and fed the entire Warden caravan on their meat. Provided, of course, the things were edible.
He'd come to the water's edge like this because it was relatively peaceful, removed from the bustle of the village proper. He was not guarding Lythe's back because she was still in the inn where the dwarves had been housed, still reveling in the luxury of a real bath and real soap for the first time in the countless years since her death. It had been something of a requirement for them to stay, actually. If you got too dirty in the Deep Roads and couldn't even stand yourself anymore, you wiped yourself down with a damp cloth, maybe rummaged up a pungent cave herb to tuck inside your armor if you were really picky, but otherwise that was it. Compared to everyone they were now in company with, the two Legionnaires had been, well, a little ripe, and people had seen to have that amended.
So now he was clean (his braids and tangles were still damp to prove it) and had free time on his hands. Exploring the village and mingling with its people did not appeal to him, nor did he want to roam the wilds outside it and be too far from his commander. That had ultimately put him here, on a stretch of wooden bridge that shifted queerly underfoot, observing the vast expanse of water that was called Lake Calenhad and the curious little manmade things that puttered about its surface. "Boats."
After a short while, Nivak had decided to sit, letting his feet dangle over the edge and removing his gauntlets, which he stacked on the walkway beside him. He had idly reached into one of his belt-pouches and removed a large hardtack biscuit, breaking off tiny pieces which he could let sit in his mouth until they were soft enough for him to swallow, but something about this ritual had suddenly made him the center of attention of this flock of waterfowl. He wasn't even sure where they had all come from except there had to be a dozen of them, half of them adult and half of them tiny bits of baby-fluff congregating around what he assumed was their mother, all of them going kwak kwak kwak.
What else could he do but give in to their noisy demands and start throwing crumbs to them? Their gleeful (he assumed) noises and the way they swarmed and splashed about, each trying to be the first to reach the food, were utterly ridiculous. The Deep Roads had nothing like them and a smirk tugged almost imperceptibly at one corner of his mouth as he listened to them kwak and broke more biscuit into the water for them.