Spirits of the Earth

"Dammit!"

Azalea hissed as she looked at the scrape she'd just freshly earned, carving up the underside of her thigh up onto her left ass cheek. She'd been exploring a dry, rocky ravine, lost her footing and cut herself up good on her way down the steep rock face.

Gods, dammit! She would be entering her first season soon, anytime now, and the last thing she wanted was to present herself with a nasty gash on her thigh! Not to mention if it started to scab, or worse, got infected! She was horrified at the mere thought, showing herself to a male as a full adult for the first time looking like some roughed up, ragtag heathen.

She climbed her way back out of the ravine, deciding that she should probably head back for now, having scouted and explored enough. She wanted to get this fixed, immediately, also because it hurt. A lot. She was never meant for pain, or fighting. She couldn't stand this at all, but there was one thing, or rather, one person, she couldn't stand even less.

Slate.

That... That incorrigible, snarky, smart-mouthed, assholish, egotistical, prideful, JERK of a healer.

Just thinking of him was enough to make her hesitate as she got back up onto the sands, squinting as she raised her hand to shield her eyes from the sun, a breeze blowing her hair and clothing back as she looked in the direction of and found her tribe's current camp.

She bit and worried her lip; if it had been a small cut that was one thing, and she knew enough to know it was nothing serious, but it could be if left unattended, and she knew that, but... Her gut twisted and she wrapped her arms around her midsection, hugging herself with uncertainty as she thought it over.

He'd always teased her, always called her a 'Mosquito', always been insufferable and horrible and obviously, CLEARLY she hated him, how could she not? But lately, over the past year or so, she'd started to... Well. Not feel different about him, cause clearly she had every right to hate him, and definitely should!

But... Every now and then when she thought of the next stage of her life which was approaching so soon, and she thought of what was expected of her, he... Tended to be one of the first few males who kind of... Popped into her mind. And when he did, the thought was usually accompanied by a warmth that spread from her heart to the depths of her belly and made her skin tingle a little and no that had to be her anger with him. Definitely. For... For being so difficult, and annoying, and frustrating, all the time!

But if there was anyone who might be able to get her looking nice and pristine again by the time her season came around, it was undoubtedly him.

"Hhhh, why did this have to happen to me, now, of all times..?" She grumbled, pouting as she begrudgingly made her way back to camp, sand stirred up by the winds making her wound sting as she poked her head inside of his tent.

"Slate..? I... I need your help."

And it was so obvious how much it pained and embarrassed her to say that, by the way her ears were cast downwards and a blush tinged her cheeks.

Of course when a day started like this one, Slate hadn't planned to be lazy. It just happened. Most of the tribe were well off now, content to do the jobs assigned to them. Nobody really needed him at this moment, so it gave Slate plenty of an excuse to hide in his tent all day and practice mixes. And boy would he need a bit more practice.

Firebrush and lavender were a terrible mix, and it nearly signed the skin off his hands. Sure it might make a nice combination for portable fire. That much was checked off the list. It might also be used to searing wounds closed on short notice. Something else he took note of. Most of the day was spent in relative peace and quiet, and when he decided he'd had enough of messing around with his mixes, he figured he might as well get some sort of sunlight.

Not that there wasn't plenty of it already in the desert. See what the hunters brought in, it'd be a nice way to end the day. that was until he found himself face to face with none other than the living wasp herself.

"Oh, no, it's just you Mosquito," he chuckled, smirking at her.  He folded over a piece of cloth as he stood toward the back of his tent. It was relatively small in relation to the Elder's tent, but big enough to have a partition where the exam itself could take place in case others of the tribe were too shy. He took as much as was reasonable into consideration. 

Moving around the back, he put away the cloth he'd been mixing on and pulled the shirt from his head, changing into a clean tunic, white like the sands and had less snagging on his scales than the ragged one he'd been wearing before.  He quirked a brow playfully at Azalea. Ball's Fire she certainly grew into her form.

But somehow, she was still skinny, gangly, and it was hilarious.  He snorted at the thought. "Come on in. Don't just linger by the flap," he replied and pushed the partition along its twine. "Tell me, Muskrat. I mean Mosquito, how does it feel to be all grown up? Are you ever going to grow out of that kaadir-like gait?"

Ah yes, there it was. His insufferable nickname for her, Mosquito. He had probably explained it to her a dozen times before and she still insisted that it was stupid, rude, and made no sense.

She briefly considered leaving right then and there, but the itching of blood oozing down her leg reminded her that she would just have to step over her ego here and do the... The smart thing.

He parted the curtain and she hesitated for a brief second before stepping inside to follow him, but when he made the comment about her gait she again found herself blushing. She awkwardly clasped her hands in front of her lap as she bit back a remark just yet and stepped inside, the scent of her bit of blood no doubt more noticeable now in the confined space of the tent.

"I don't know, how does it feel to be a slimey, smart-mouthed scorpion?" She grumbled, glaring at him as she turned her backside to him so he could see the gash on her leg; it went up, under her skirt, where it wasn't too hard to imagine where it continued onward.

"I slipped on some rocks while I was out exploring, is there anything you can do about this?" If he couldn't he'd better speak up, the sooner she could get out of here, the better.

Boy did she think she was clever!  He smirked with his back briefly to her. Oh, he could be a good sport about it.  He did get a little handsy from time to time, if only because that's what his job called for.

He had reply for her comment. A good one too. But that one went out the window immediately when the scent of iron permeated the air. A lick of his lips and twisted toward her swiftly. Seeing the blood, a frown curled at his lips and he reached out to gently take her arm.  That response was momentarily forgotten.

Instead he let out a soft chuckle and coaxed her to follow him to the partitioned portion of the tent.  "My, my. I see you got a little too excited for your coming of age then," he chuckled and gently turned her around. "Let me take a look at that."  It wasn't that bad. But it wasn't good either.

"I can fix this, okay. Undress now Mosquito, or you'll get blood all over your skirt," he said.  Slate only briefly pushed against the side of her tail where the gash could be seen going up but thankfully stopped before it reached the base of it.  He gently squeezed it and when she was bare to him from the waist down he took a bucket of clean water he had from the corner of his tent and a fresh cloth.

"You always were a little clumsy, weren't you Mosquito? You now how they always look all drunk when they're fluttering about looking for the next victim," Slate smirked, bending over to his left to get a better look at the gash. A small fire burned in a hearth and he had a pot boiling over it already.  He departed for a moment, returning with the hot water and mixing it in with the cold until it was warm and comfortable to the touch.

He dabbed the cloth until it was sopping, rung it out firmly and began to clean up the blood on the back of her thigh.

Whether she liked to admit it or not, Slate wasn't a horrible person. He meant well and he was good at his job, so as he noticed the scent of her blood she noticed a slight change in his attitude that helped reassure her as he guided her to the back of his tent.

She sneered a little at his comment and hesitated, suddenly feeling a bit shy as he asked her to remove her skirt, before she took a breath to steel herself and did so obediently. Once the skirt was off he was unafraid to touch her, and she hated how every connection between his fingertips and her skin sent tingles up and down her spine. Hated how it made her blush even more.

She winced when he squeezed and refused to whimper, even though she had to clench her fists in doing so; she had an extremely low pain tolerance, but she didn't want to give him any more reasons to make fun of her.

"Azalea," She grumbled, "My name is Azalea, not Mosquito."

He started dabbing at her wound with the washcloth and she tightened her fists a little more, sucking in a breath. The raw flesh was still throbbing, sore and tender, but the removal of the blood and therefore​ the itch felt nice.

"And yes I am excited," She admitted with a huff, "And while I appreciate your help, I will definitely not be Choosing you."

There, that would totally get him back for all the teasing and humiliation and the... Teasing. Except she shouldn't have felt such a light squeeze in her chest or the ring of disappointment that echoed throughout her when she said it. Stupid... Jerk of a healer. He was horrible. Nobody in their right mind would pick him. So... Why did she kind of want to?

It wasn't that he didn't notice her blush before, he just attributed it to something else. The day had been awfully hot as was every day here in the Moraki Desert. Even his own tanned skin could only resist so much before he burned. Clearly she was a little delirious from overexposure to the sun.  Heatstroke in the simplest definition.

Slate kept dabbing and cleared up a majority of the blood. It wasn't as bad as the wound first appeared and outwardly Slate gave a sigh of relief.  A sigh he breathed out closely to the back of her leg and up beside her ass. It was clotting already, which was a good sign.  Hmm. Maybe not heatstroke after all.  The blush by her tail was definitely different.

Slate blew another breath to dry the water. "Oh so that's how it's going to be, Ass-alea?" he made a deep gasp and leaned back, a hand clutching his chest, and made a show as if there was pain spreading from there, jerking his body exaggerated like.  "Oh, you wound me!"

He recovered and cackled, standing upright and letting his hands settled by her hips. He squeezed a little, using her as a support to kneel down beside her leg again. "It's just a scratch, Musky," he chuckled, sobering enough to feel around the wound. Slate's hands wrapped around her lower rear thigh and just the outside of her ass cheek.

His left index squished beside the upper part of the gash, where it seemed most of the blood was coming out. "I've got some bad news and not so bad news. But since I'm talking to you, I guess it's all just bad news. So, you will need​ d stitches here, here, and heeeere," he murmured.

As his said that, his index finger traced along the outside of it. He smirked just a little. He wondered just how red he could get that blush on her tail.

"So, either way you'll have a scar, a bigger one if I just patch it, and your skin will have to work harder to heal. Much less if I salve and stich it. If you don't want a scar, I salve it, and patch it, and wrap it real snugly. I mean if the thought of a needle terrifies you so what'll it be?"

HER NAME WAS--RRRRRGH. Was it really so hard for him to just use her name?! She rather liked it! Thought it was pretty, fun to say. Why did he have to be so frustrating?!

He played around, joking that her words hurt him, and the fact that she knew they didn't, not even a little bit, just made her feel even more embarrassed as she turned her face away from him with a huff, trying to ignore her blush and hoping that he just... Wouldn't notice it. She felt his warm breath ghosting along her thigh and a shiver went up her spine that was as hard to suppress as the hitched intake of breath, which was weird, but maybe it was because she was hurt and that cut had messed with her or something. Maybe she was already infected or something. That was a horrible thought, why did she think that? Oh no what if she was, was she going to die? Before her first Choosing even? No that couldn't happen, not to her, she was too pretty and--

He squeezed her hips as he readjusted his position, and it was so sudden she felt a sudden whoosh of air through her lungs and then she... Squeaked. Barely managed to contain it to an Eep! What. What was that. What was that!? Her heartbeat picked up a little as she internally panicked and couldn't place it, couldn't place the weird feelings or the noise or why she was freaking out about this, after all it was just Slate and he didn't mean diddly squat to her! Right. Right?

"Bad news? Oh, a-ahaha, great, perfect, what is it?" She sneered, her voice growing more strained as her muscles tensed as he just... Touched and squeezed and felt away.

Yep. Just do that. That's not weird or anything. She ought to give him a horse kick in the face.

He said she was going to need stitches, and she froze. She was pretty sure her heart stopped beating for a second.

Stitches?

No, no stitches. No. No needles. No. NO.

Her ears twitched as she slowly looked at him over her shoulder, horror squeezing her in its icy grip.

What was worse, scars, or stitches? Stitches were only temporary, but they would hurt so much more! The scar would fade, right? It'd go away... YEAH MAYBE WHEN SHE'S ONLY LIKE, 150 OR SOMETHING. THESE WERE THE TWO WORST OPTIONS HE COULD HAVE POSSIBLY PRESENTED HER WITH. HOW COULD HE EXPECT HER TO CHOOSE WHEN SHE WANTED TO SAY NEITHER?

Well, it could be worse, he could have suggested amputation--that made her shiver and look away as she clenched her fists and hung her head in defeat.

"Sti--Um. Stitches. I can't--won't--not scar.  Nope. I can't." And she felt herself burning up so hot she finally caved and hid her face in her hands, because fuck it. He already probably noticed by now. Fuck it. She was a fool and she was doomed, and she was going to have to get stitches.

Maybe it wouldn't be so bad?

How Slate somehow managed to keep a straight face he didn't know. Because her very reaction normally would have been enough to send him into a cackling frenzy. However there was always the very real possibility of infection, and no healer worth their salt would fail to take that seriously. Thankfully, Slate had an unconscious habit toward cleanliness, that if there was infection, it wouldn't be because of him.

Slate kept a straight face, gazing up at her stammering and he smirked. "You're really cute when  you're flustered, you know that right?" he snorted. Of course she did. He didn't know any other Kulshedra more vain ans full of themselves than Azalea. A shake of his head and he sobered.

"I'll tell you what. I'll make them really small. I have this new salve I made. It will make your wound heal faster. Possibly within the next two days. Come to me before your Choosing and I'll take the stitches out, okay?". Really she was getting all worked up over nothing.

But neither was he going to let her walk out of here with that wound on her leg and have it catch gangrene.  He didn't say anything else as he got up and pulled out a sewing kit. A few seconds in the hearth fire and the curved needle was ready. He set it aside, letting it cool down so that he could thread it.

In a poultice beside her, he scooped two-finger's worth and sniffed it. "Aloe vera is a wonderful plant, you know. It's very slimy. Like yours truly if your lame comebacks are to be believed." He snorted and applied the salve. Tea tree oil, just a drop, aloe vera, and peppermint for scent. The salve itself was thick and red and looked like clay as be applied it in small doses directly to the gash, making sure it got inside.

Wiping his hands, he took the threaded needle and didn't pierce her quite just yet. "Okay, Mosquito. Tell me. What were you doing climbing rocks? What did you find out there in the formations?" Distracting with conversation was certainly one way to go about it.

He was gentle and only poked her when he pinched the skin tightly to keep the pain to as much of a minimum as possible. "Go on. I'm listening."

Azalea was many things, and while vain, a bit snooty and a huge wimp might have been some of them, she never would have thought of herself as "cute", and it came as a surprise to her, especially coming from Slate. Her heart did a little flippy thing and she glanced at him over her shoulder, eyes a bit wide with the surprise and a rather sweet look of mild confusion on her face.

"Really..?" She started, before she realized what she was doing and quickly snapped herself out of it, looking away and crossing her arms over her chest with a huff.

"I-I mean--well duh of course I'm cute, I'm the prettiest Kulshedra in this tribe!"

Well. She did and didn't believe that. It was a weird thing to explain. Either way, he brought up the stitches again and she shivered, feeling a bit queasy at the thought of it. Two days felt like it was forever far away, and the idea of walking around with string inside of her legs was enough to make her stomach turn upside down.

"R-Right. Okay." She hesitated for a moment, opening her mouth before deciding against it and keeping her mouth shut until he asked his next question.

She felt him pinching her skin and she whimpered a little, the wound was already raw why was he just torturing her further?! This was all probably part of some dastardly plan he had to make her suffer so her first Choosing would be the worst one of her life. Payback for all the times she'd made fun of him or something! That had to be it.

Still, her pride was on the line here, and Azalea was nothing if not prideful, so she sucked in a deep breath, clenched her hands into fists and got a grip on herself. She hissed a little when he applied his salve, it stung and kind of burned for a second before it felt oddly cooling and maybe a bit soothing.

"I mean it's really none of your business, but I've had a lot of things on my mind lately! What with me coming of age and all, I've got a lot to think about, like how I'm gonna choose anyone except--"

The sudden pain of the needle piercing through her skin made her jolt, a hand instinctively covering her mouth as she yelped. FUCK--SHIT-- Was every needle gonna feel like that?!

"--Y-You." She gasped, looking over her shoulder at him, unsure if she was horrified, scared or angry.

Maybe all of the above.

"What the hell, Slate?! I thought the salve was supposed to help!!" She demanded, the pain making her eyes start to shine with unshed tears. "You're the healer, don't you know how to make it not hurt?!"

"Go on," Slate murmured as he kept the pinch tight between his fingers. Don't frustrate her, Slate, he told himself. Because any little movement could have his neeble poking in a place before her Choosing. And that would only give him a whole world of teasing to blabber on about later. In truth, that really was one thing he didn't want to ruin for her.

He purposely ignored her comment on him deliberately causing her pain as his hands worked deftly. " Have you thought about who you're choosing? That's got to be a special time for you, Mosquito. You certainly sound excited. It's one of the most important times in a young Kulshedra's life."

Slate kept her talking, kept listening until he moved his hands upward and pinched her upper ass for the last loop. He tied the thread and reached in, putting his cheek next to her cheek and cutting the thread with his teeth, breath briefly splayed against the tender skin of her upper thigh.

"There. All threaded up. That wasn't  so bad was it?"

If it had been any other time on any other day under any other circumstances, she'd have pouted and called him out for ignoring her comments. He didn't even give her a response to her obvious comment about how she wasn't going to pick him!

For a brief moment she forgot the pain as she became more preoccupied with the feeling of disappointment she had right now--why was she so let down by that? What, did she want to start a fight with him? Maybe. But right now while he had a needle in her leg probably wasn't the best time to be doing that, she begrudgingly admitted to herself.

She lowered her gaze and looked away, and then he asked about who she was choosing.

Eh? Who? Who she was picking?

Um.

She... Hadn't actually thought of that... She'd been so preoccupied with convincing herself that she absolutely would NOT pick Slate that she hadn't... Actually thought of who she would pick yet.

Azalea felt a blush rushing up from her chest to her face as her heart beat a little faster out of embarrassment.

"I... N-No I haven't... Decided. Yet. I mean--there are plenty of guys in this village that would make for decent partners," She blabbered, anxiety only growing in her chest and stomach as she realized that despite her saying that, not a single specific Kulshedra came to mind other than the one who was currently sewing her leg up and why... WHY did he come up?

Why was he always the first one to come up in her mind?! The first one she thought of whenever she thought of her Choosing, the first one she thought of whenever she imagined who might make a good father or a good partner, why?! Was it because she hated him so much? It had to be. Her mind was just playing tricks on her, reminding her that he WASN'T any of those things, definitely. Most probably.

Maybe.

Still, she found herself continuously chatting on about things that were inconsequential, and yet some of her sentences and thoughts were random or mixed, or left broken and hanging as she got caught up in her thoughts. Her mind was anywhere but here right now--all she could think to do was doubt and question herself and wonder why the male behind her was so good at fucking up all of her plans.

His hand was on her ass and she literally squeaked in surprise; she felt his breath and a shiver ran up her spine, the blush immediately returning as he finished his work and pulled away.

"Yes, it was horrible." She immediately spat back, dropping her skirts to cover herself more modestly as she awkwardly shuffled a few paces away from him.

Her leg still hurt like holy hell but that didn't matter right now, she just wanted to get out of this cramped space with Sir Asshole here. She wrapped her arms around herself, clearly uncomfortable as she finally looked up at him and her breath caught a little in her throat before she looked away again.

"I--... Thank you." She said suddenly, her cheeks still tinged with blush before she suddenly started talking again, why she didn't know.

"I don't have any clue what I'm doing, Slate." She spoke quietly, unable to look him in the eyes.

So many years of her wanting this, eagerly waiting for it, the day she became a fully fledged adult, the day she could finally play her part in helping their clan. It was only two days away and yet here she was... Kind of dreading it.

"... When I said I didn't know who I was going to pick yet, I lied. I--There is someone. But I don't think he likes me. I don't know what to do."

Fuck, why was she still talking?? She spared one last glance at him, her eyes shining with unshed tears as a flood of emotions threatened to choke her up--and the last thing she would ever do was cry in front of Slate. She looked away again, clearing her throat.

"Thank you again for your help." And moved to quickly leave the tent.

As ever, Mosquito would make mountains out of molehills. So it was getting really hard not to collect and building up masses of ammunition to add more to his arsenal. Never to hurt or tear into her - he was the tribe healer after all - but he couldn't help himself when the urge to throw a quip at her here and there raised its ugly head.

She just made it so easy! Slate licked his lips and rolled his sleeves up.  "Oh yeah? And why's that?" he murmured. Not that she'd give him the light of day to offer a real answer. He stood up, crossing his arms over his chest and observing her flushed state, the way the heat came to her cheeks when she tried to come up with a proper answer.

Even if she was a mosquito, at least she was a cute one, and her pink scales certainly had extra flair added to them from that becoming blush. He tilted his head. That nervousness now brought about by something else.

Gods she was cute.

Slate's hand kept themselves busy putting away his needle and thread, rolling up the thin string, and sliding them back into their respective nooks. His expression sobered enough to see that awkwardness only grow. His stomach lurched, a vague knot tingling in his belly. He stepped in closer when she moved away, and before she could leave his hand shot out to grasp her wrist, pulling her in toward him with a firm yank.

"Any male would be lucky to be chosen by you, Azalea," he replied, voice a gentle purr, and his grin remarkably gentle for someone with a such a shit-eating smile.  And he leaned in to kiss her gently against the scales of her cheek. His touch on her wrist loosened, fingers leaving her. "Have a good night. Come back tomorrow, so I can check on your leg, all right?"

Really, what in the world had she been thinking? Opening up to Slate, of all people? Particularly about such serious troubles--when it came to her it seemed he couldn't take anything she thought, said or did seriously, so why?

Deep down, she knew why.

Her stomach tied itself in knots, and right before a tear had a chance to slide down her cheek, there was the warm sensation of someone grabbing onto her wrist. She turned as she was suddenly tugged back and she found herself up close and personal with Slate.

Her heart skipped a beat.

"Any male would be lucky to be chosen by you, Azalea."

Her eyes widened and her heart started hammering in her chest, and then Slate leaned down and kissed her cheek.

If she wasn't as red as a tomato before, she definitely was now.

For a brief moment as the two of them stood there together, all of the anxiety, the self-doubt, the tension, the worry, all of it was gone, disappeared. He was warm, and his touch was gentle, more so than she'd ever thought he could be. And yet despite all of her shock and surprise, she also identified one other prevalent feeling--joy?

She was left a stammering, stuttering mess when he asked her to stop by tomorrow, and she dropped her gaze, completely unable to look at him as she covered her face with a hand, in a poor attempt at hiding her blush.

"I-I will!"

And then she turned tail and darted out of the tent. She couldn't get out of there fast enough.


She had barely slept at all that night; it'd taken her far too long to fall asleep. She'd been too worked up over the whole thing with Slate. His words just kept echoing in her mind, over and over again.

Did he... Did he really think that?

She let out a muffled squeal into her hands where she perched on a rock, some hundred yards from their campsite, watching the stars disappear as the early morning rays started to light the sky.

If he did... Then what?

She hugged herself a little, glancing down at the wound on her leg as she tucked her knees up to her chest. It still hurt a lot, but not quite as bad as yesterday. Azalea rested her chin on her kneecaps, letting out a wistful sigh.

What was she doing? It was so weird, she'd never heard of any of the other tribe members getting like this about one particular person, particularly the females--that just... Wasn't how things worked around here. Why was she so strange and different? Or maybe others did have these feelings, but you just weren't supposed to talk about them, or act on them... How was she supposed to know? She was too scared to ask.

After a while as the sun started to rise above the horizon, and the others were starting to wake up, she wandered her way back to the village, not exactly sure what to do with herself--and she didn't want to purposefully walk right into Slate's tent, that might seem a little too desperate. Especially after last night--

Ah.

Hang on.

She stopped, looking around as she pulled herself from her thoughts.

This was Slate's tent.

Shit!

"Um... Slate, are you in here? I-I wasn't sure what time you wanted me to stop by..." She called out tentatively as she stepped in further, determined to make this look intentional and totally not like she'd just wandered in here on some kind of instinct or something NOT AT ALL HAHA. HA. HA....

Thankfully for her sake, Slate slept like a lamb the night before. His tent was cleaned up and no doubt there would a be rather long queue of much of the other tribe trying to get in. He shifted around and when Azalea came barging into his tent, Slate was just rolling out of his cot, wearing little more than a loincloth, pushing apart the partition.

"Goooood morning, Mosquito? Late to catch your morning morsel, eh?" he snorted, and plucked a shirt from a line across his tent. He slipped it over his shoulders, his tail swishing idly and flicking a pebble in her direction.

"Need to me to look at your bum again?"

Mm yep, it was definitely a bad idea to literally just wander in here. She stared awkwardly at his mostly naked form for several moments, mouth agape as a blush tinged her cheeks. Finally she realized what she was doing, closed her mouth and abruptly looked away, flinching out of surprise as the pebble bounced off her lrg, and she pouted.

"I'm not a mosquito!" She argued for probably the thousandth time, "And I--well. Yes. I guess. You never specified what time I should come in to see you last night." She huffed a little, crossing her arms over her chest and trying to ignore her own nervous heartbeats.

She didn't understand it, why he could fluster her so easily. He was just a dull Kulshedra, there were males in this tribe fsr prettier than him, for sure! (Though she couldn't think of any specific ones off the top of her head.)

"If it's such a big deal though I can come back later if you like." Her voice had a bit of a stubborn ring to it; she was only an inch away from sticking her tongue out at him.

"Don't be crazy! I'll be busy all day. And you're already here, so it's no problem!" he said.  Come now, Mosquito, he thought, do you really think you could ever be bothering me?  "Tis a deal little more important than a bruised bum on a day like today. Isn't it your Choosing? Or is that tomorrow night?"

A moot question since she made it pretty clear she wasn't going to pick him. Slate slipped across the room and took her wrist gently in his. Because why not? The least he could do for her was humor her vanity. He was still a healer, and she still a patient in need. She wanted to look her best for her first time. It was such an adorable thought.

"I'm up and at 'em. I'll have you righter than desert rain," he said, releasing his hold on her to move behind her, his hands falling down to her hips and slipping to them on either side.  Fingers were spread out wide, and he gave them a firm squeeze as he guided her back to the examination table, encouraging her to lean forward.

"So, how does it feel? You haven't been climbing up on any more rocks have you? Because while scrapes and bruises are my specialty, I can't cure you of any illness that might be in your head telling you to do these tings. i know how fickle you are, Mosquito," he murmured.  Just a touch, to make sure the muscles therein were still firmed.

His hand slipped down and carefully pulled her skirt up to squeeze at her ass. "Oh my. Did you eat a watermelon before you came here?" he murmured.

His response wasn't nearly as jeering or sarcastic as she'd been expecting, so she was actually quiet for a moment as she realized it, rather than lashing back at him with banter like was so common of them. She blushed a little, clasping her hands together in front of her lap as she dropped her gaze to her feet.

"I-It's tomorrow night."

Her voice was barely above a whisper, all that vim and vigor that had been there just moments before completely washed away now.

She blinked and looked up at him in surprise when he suddenly stepped forward, and when he took her wrist into his hand, her blush only getting worse as her heart skipped a beat again, just as it had last night. She was so surprised by the sudden physical connection between the two of them, she didn't even think to try and hide her face; rather she just looked up at him with wide eyes full of hope for something she knew would probably never happen.

For a brief moment she had thought he was going to kiss her again. She'd almost been awaiting it with bated breath.

But instead he just promised that he'd have her feeling better soon, and she just dumbly nodded at him, glancing down at her wrist after he had released it, already missing the warmth she'd felt there moments before.

Stupid jerk.

"N-No, of course I haven't, I'm not an idiot." And yet that implied she wasn't being an idiot when she'd gone and torn herself up pretty bad in the first place.

Regardless, she followed his directions, trying not to let her embarrassment get to her, until he went right for it and gripped her ass, making her Eep! in response.

"A--A watermelon!? What--No! What, why?!" She looked over her shoulder at him, the meaning of his words completely sailing over her head, she was suddenly so worried that something was wrong, and even worse, that Slate could blatantly see it.

She didn't want him to see her looking anything less than perfect! Er--Wait no--

"Is it swollen, has it gotten that bad?!" She whimpered, panic leaking its way into her tone of voice, and most of it wasn't because of the wound.

Quickly she suddenly turned around so she was facing him instead, backing away a step as she covered her rear with her hands, tail and ears hanging low in shyness and embarrassment.

"I-I don't think I can do this right now, m-maybe I should come back later, or we can push back the date of my Choosing," She stammered, very obviously flustered.

Tomorrow night then it was. The moment of truth then. Slate only momentarily cast his thoughts out to what she was possibly thinking, feeling. And what was already evident from her posturing and the sheer nerves she was presenting, was enough to temper Slate's penchant for nonsensical quips. Because something heavy clearly was on the poor girl's mind.

And when she turned away from him, the smirk that was playing on his lips slowly dissipated. "Hey, hey, now."  Slate stood just a few inches from her, had both hands where she could plainly see. "Okay, Azalea," he said, shaking his head furiously.

"Hey, easy there. I'm only joking. What's got you so riled up, huh? I know a Choosing can be pretty daunting, but you were really excited yesterday! Look, what is it that you're really worried about?"

She hadn't been expecting that sobered tone of Slate's voice; hadn't expected the gentleness, the genuine concern. She looked up at him in surprise, and yet when he asked her what was wrong...

She didn't want to tell him, or told herself that she shouldn't. He had no business knowing--he would just make fun of her anyways! And yet there was a larger part of herself that was urging for her to tell him everything. All the fears, the self-doubt, the stress.

The heartache.

She dropped her gaze, focusing on the ground as she hugged herself.

"I think there's something wrong with me."

She finally whimpered, and her grip on herself tightened a little.

"There's only one I want to pick, only one I can ever dream of or think about. I don't want to be with anyone else--it's not right! It's not how I was raised, it's so weird and if I tell anyone then the whole tribe will probably be so ashamed of me,"

Before she even realized it she just started... Talking. She tried to keep it as vague as possible, but it hurt so much. A few warm tears slid down her cheeks, landing on the sand by her feet with the softest plips.

"And I can't even pick him because I know he'll never see me that way. How could any Kulshedra? It's wrong! How am I supposed to fulfill my duties if I can't even properly Choose someone? I'm already a failure and a disgrace and I already know it."

She buried her face into her hands, failing at trying to hold back more tears but at the very least managing to keep down any pathetic sobs.

"You absolutely can't tell anyone, please Slate--I don't want them to hate me. Please."

All that poured out of her, from the gestures, the tears, the words, and all her frustrations were - for lack of a better word - overwhelming. Slate was quiet, unsure how to react quite just yet. Because she wasn't finished, and likely wouldn't be. He instead shifted around beside her and leaned back against the examination table, crossing his legs and swishing his tail out to gently thwack against hers.

"Aza! Aza, it's all right. It'll be all right. You have my word. I'm the tribe healer, remember. I'm anything if not discreet," he said and reached out a hand to her shoulder. Pushing himself off the table, it was rather instinctual to wrap his arms around her. Why not? She was beside herself with frustration and anger, that it came easy for him. Slate had no expectations and he slid his arms around her shoulders, letting her tears fall against his shirt.

"You can't help how you feel, little one, eh? You are entitled to that much. The fire does not dictate your emotion. But your devotion, that is all. All of us, we all live and fight and die and mate for the same reasons. You understand that you can choose anyone, and if this mate does not reciprocate your desires, then he doesn't deserve them."

Slate pushed her hair back giving her another shit-eating grin. "Look at it this way. Your Choosing, means...you decide who you wish to share your beauty with. That's what it's all about after all. Your scales, they practically sparkle by the Fire. It's kind of hard not to notice you. I'm sure whoever you've been considering has definitely considered you back. Maybe even hoping that tomorrow night, he would be chosen."

Slate stepped back, unhooking his arms from around her. "And if you choose another, perhaps you can use that as practice to better yourself so you can truly enjoy Choosing the one you really want. You'd really not want to be embarrassed with all sorts of fumbling around."

For Azalea, his words ended up having two effects; on the one hand, they were very sweet, gentle and reassuring; on the other, it felt like she' been backhanded.

It was so easy for him to say those things because he had no idea who she was talking about, and considering what he was saying, he probably would have been singing a different tune if he did know.

He called her little one, like he still thought of her as a child, yet he also called her beautiful. He said whoever she was thinking of wouldn't deserve it if he didn't feel the same way back, and yet implied that maybe she'd want to practice first before trying anything anyways. It was all so double-sided, so vague, and so completely and utterly non-specific. But it made her realize what she was doing--something she shouldn't be.

Right, there was no way she could ever tell him. She didn't want to get him in trouble--if anyone had to be punished for strange thoughts or actions she wanted it to be her and only her. So she hid how her heart sank and pulled herself back up by her non-existent bootstraps and looked up at him, wiping the tears away from her eyes, offering him a little smile.

"Y-You're right. I'm probably getting all worked up over nothing."
She looked away quickly though, hiding it by wiping her face with her hands as if she were meticulously preening like she often did.

If she looked at him for too long he might just pick up on the fact that she was lying.

"I'm sorry--but you better not tell anyone that you saw me cry." She said, throwing him a glare with a tone of voice that wasn't nearly as headstrong as it should have been.

"So... I guess let's get on with this." She wanted this to be done and over so she could get out of this tent. So she turbed around so the examination could go on again, but this time she was barely even blushing. No, her mind was somewhere else.

You're such an idiot, Slate...

Whatever message she was sending, completely went over Slate's head. He wasn't completely unsympathetic to her plight. She had every reason to be scared, a bundle of nerves, and a bursting emotional coil that was unraveling before him. Slate, truly, didn't know what more he could say, and while he might not have been completely turned into her - what else was new? She was beside herself! - he frowned when he saw that she seemed to go back to preening herself.

"Wait a minute," he muttered and shifted around her, letting her wipe off her face and wanting nothing more than to bury her against his chest. He resisted the urge. "It's not nothing. I'm not trying to discount your feelings. Or your concerns. I'm sorry, Azalea. You have every right to feel what you feel. You're entitled to that much."

He held his hand out to her. "Now you won't be able to get better with that kind of attitude. Gimme a hug. Come on now. You know you want to." He tilted his head and gave her a hell of a goofy look.

"Azzzzaaaaayleeeeeuuuuhhh," he rolled his voice upward, into a pleasant melodic pitch. "Cooome oooon."  And spread his arms open wide for her. "Don't leave me hanging."

And here when Azalea thought that she'd done a good job of hiding her feelings and dismissing the topic like she would have anything else, apparently she didn't--apparently Slate either didn't believe it or didn't want to drop it.

Either way, she blinked and looked at him funny when he said 'Wait a minute' and carried on.

She always knew he could be sweet as much as he could be an asshole, but it felt different being on the receiving end of the kindness for once. Usually she just watched it from afar, watched him play nice with the other tribe members and smiled to herself, always secretly kind of enjoying it. She liked to observe those different sides of him, because usually she didn't get to see it much first hand when it was the two of them.

But to have him tell her those kind things, and from the look in his eyes, actually sincerely mean it, it gave her such conflicting emotions. It felt so strange that he was being so nice with her, and not someone else. It made her heart flutter and made her want to strangle him at the same time.

She looked down at his hand, hesitating for a moment, and then he opened his arms for a hug with that goofy voice and she gave him a flat stare as he went back to his usual goofy self.

Well, not all nice things could last.

"You're an idiot." She grumbled, hesitating before giving in and letting him hug her.

She knew it was... Kind of out of character. Any other time she would have huffily turned him down and said that oh she couldn't be seen playing around with fools like him or it'd ruin her image (hah), or something to that effect. But right now, she let her defenses slip just a little bit, even though she knew she shouldn't.

She knew she needed to get out of this tent before she said or did something that she'd regret later, especially with this moron, but at the same time she never wanted to leave. Once she left this tent it'd be one step closer towards the ceremony she was so secretly dreading, when she would ultimately have to Choose someone... Someone who wasn't him.

So, yes, she was being selfish as she stepped into that hug and wrapped her arms around him and held him tight, face buried against his chest so he couldn't see her blush. She was being immature and irresponsible, giving into the want that for just one moment, one silly little moment, she could pretend he was hers.

Just the two of them.

Even though she knew he'd never feel the same way back.

She closed her eyes and breathed, letting his scent and the warmth of his body, the feeling of his scales and clothes underneath her fingertips wash over her. It was so calming, reassuring--safe.

Why couldn't things just stay that way forever?

The Slate that had extended his arms open to her was definitely not a side that she would have otherwise seen often. In the present moment, she definitely looked like she could use one, so why not him? Why not now? No one would question it, they were alone after all. And in the middle of this tent, no one ever had to find out if that was what she was worried about. She could move along and pretend it never happened too if she wanted.

He hoped to the Fire though that she didn't. Because the second she wrapped her arms around him, the most unsuspecting jolt fired down from his belly, as his arms fell around her shoulders and wrapped around her shoulders.  His face instinctively buried into her hair, and the faint scent of the outdoors from where she'd scuffed her butt, to the natural oils that permeated it were inviting and calming. Slate gasped softly, at the feeling of warmth that bloomed up into his chest.

"I'm an idiot all right. An idiot that healed your scuffed buns, Mosquito," he chuckled softly, the note in his voice less teasing as he lifted his head and released her from his arms, although he was wont to hold her there for as long as he could. Odd, when she buried her face against his chest, she just fit.

"Stay out of trouble and don't come back with any scrapes or bruises before your choosing. I want you to take good care of yourself because if I see you again, I might have to leave a big ol hand print on the other side of your tail," he noted with a small smirk on his face. 

He moved behind her to finish what he started and went about examining the stitches. The salve did it's job, soothing the reddened lines over and although the wound would need to stay closed for the next few days to really seal up, meaning the stitches would have to stay in there, already it was healing very nicely. "You look really good," he breathed. "Over all, I'll say it should be right as rain within a day or so. Maybe two just to be safe.  So I'm sorry but the stitches are going to have to stay in. Less of a chance of a scar, or y'know a crippling infection."

His hands reached up to steady himself on her hips and gently he squeezed them.  Her skin was warm and his fingertips wanted to smooth up the slope of her back, and his hand twitched with the temptation. She wasn't his, and she hadn't chose him (not that he'd given her any good reason to). And so he pulled his hands back, instead grabbing a cloth to smooth the skin of her thigh and rear just beside her tail.  He blew on it and tossed the rag back. "Otherwise it looks really good.  You, uh, know who you're going to pick yet?"

She didn't want him to let her go.

For a moment he pulled his arms away and she squeezed him a little tighter, her heart throbbing painfully in her chest as she took in another deep breath of his scent, let her mind wander for a half a second. To a world where she could be laying on top of him in a cot, blankets on top of them, his arms around her and her head resting on his chest. The sound of his heart beating in time with hers just underneath the surface.

She took in a soft, sharp breath and quickly let him go when she realized she was lingering, and couldn't bring herself to look at him as he turned to get back to work, taking a look at the wound, talking to her and while she understood the words, she didn't really hear them.

She'd heard stories from other travelers they'd met on the road, during their nomadic voyages across the desert sands. Stories of what some folks called "true love", where two persons fought through hell and war to reach each other, because for them there would never be anyone else. When she'd been a kid she'd thought it was just that, stories--nobody in her tribe ever mentioned anything like that. Said it'd been weird at most when she'd asked when she was younger.

But she wondered if this was really the way you felt about somebody you thought you hated. Or did she just love to hate him? She couldn't tell.

She was unresponsive to his quip, her eyes distant, tears welling up on her lower lids until she felt him squeeze her hips and the flush on her face worsened again. She blinked the tears away, one sliding down her cheek as she met his gaze when he stepped away to toss that rag over his shoulder. There was something in his tone of voice, the way he looked at her, that made her heart throb painfully as she made eye contact with him for once when he asked that question, and she actually held it for several moments, brows furrowed before looking away and silently shaking her head no.

She would just pick someone randomly, because she had to. She knew who she wanted to pick. And it was weird trying to reason with herself when she was so used to always getting what she wanted because she was the spoiled pretty one.

This was the one time she couldn't. Because if she gave into that selfishness it could be more than her that got in trouble, and she couldn't bear the thought of anything happening to Slate, or anyone else, because of her own selfish mistake.

"I'll know him when I see him." She lied, quietly, her arms wrapping around herself.

She felt so cold without him holding her, and even though he was right there, she couldn't reach out to him. No matter how bad she wanted to, and the longer she stayed in this tent the more tempting it was becoming.

"Well, thanks for checking. I... Appreciate it. Have a good day." And before he could say much more, she ducked out once she was appropriately covered, her movements brisk as she kept her head down and willed those tears to stay silent until she could escape outside of the tribe's village of tents where nobody could hear her weep in dread.




She purposefully avoided Slate for the rest of that day and the following. She did her best to duck out of eyesight when she saw him, refused to make eye contact, and kept her distance. Sure, she'd need to check in with him the day after her Choosing to keep that wound under control, but that'd be after everything was taken care of.

In the span of time of that day and a half, she'd worked very hard in between her daily chores to thoroughly convince herself that what she felt was fake, a random fluke caused by her coming to season. That as soon as she Chose her mate, who wouldn't be him, it'd go away. Be gone, done, and over with--that was what she wished for the most right now. She didn't let herself day dream or pine or try to think of desperate alternatives to the inevitable, like running away with him, which was the silliest--he didn't feel that way, pure and simple, and she was just... Delirious. She'd be right as rain after all of this was settled.

And yet the nerves didn't settle or go away as she preened with some of the other females, mere hours before the ceremony. Dressing her hair in what few jewels they had, making her look special for the event. The silks they chose draped artfully around her and served to enhance the pure, glimmering color of her scales, and as she looked at herself in the mirror one last time before she stepped out to see the line of options awaiting her, she pursed her lips.

She'd always been pretty, but she was realizing looks only mattered so much when the one you wanted to see them most couldn't notice them at all.

She stepped out of the tent as the elder presented her to the tribe, dolled up and beautiful for the first night where she could really fulfill her role and bring honor to them all. There was a moment where her eyes searched the grouping of males as the elder spoke, and her gaze fell upon Slate's. Her heart was hammering in her chest, and seeing him there, even for the briefest of moments made her wonder if him seeing her like this had any effect on him at all. Did he care? Was he indifferent?

It's not like you'll ever know, Azalea. So stop it.

Walking out the way she did couldn't have been more of a slap to the face than if she actually slapped him in the face. Not that he could have blamed her. Slate watched her depart and said nothing as she made her exit, and the spot she vacated seeped into an emptiness he felt deep in his chest. The pang ached, and he rubbed at it despite himself. She'd know when she found him, she said. That was the way the Choosings went. He'd had his go with a few of the females when the time came to mate here and there. It was his duty to the tribe, his contribution to the Fire.

And just as this was hers. His heart still beat fast, and the way his stomach lurched at the way she felt when he hugged her, that residual memory left him with chills running down his spine. Slate grumbled as he put his utensils away. She'd be back when her stitches needed taking out, in the meantime he could only hope she'd make good on not getting herself into any more trouble. She was a pretty young thing, but even those needed looking after from time to time.

As much as he enjoyed teasing her, he hated seeing her scraped up even more.

The days went by as usual, and it was better to keep himself busy than pondering on the Choosings that were coming up in the coming day. Her stitches would need removal the day after most likely. And if she had any brains - doubtful - she'd know not to pick at them if they were getting itchy.

Just keep himself busy, patch up the wounded, the guards, the occasional stubbed toe. Anything to keep from thinking about how gorgeous Mosquito was going to look when they presented her on her coming of age. That day had been stressful most of all. And his hands hadn't found nearly as much to do as he wished.

Sure if was their duty to get all dressed up, but that didn't mean he didn't appreciate what he saw when the time came to be present with the other males of the tribe. He nudged elbows with Viridian who stood next to him, although his gaze was averted and reverent to the Fire and the word of the Elder as she spoke.

He didn't listen, couldn't when his eyes fell upon her shimmering pink scales. The bonfire at the center of the tribe ignited her tail and glistened alongside her cheeks, enhancing those striking beautiful eyes. And he felt his stomach knot up the moment their eyes met. Still, a playful smirk curled in a wry grin on the corner of his mouth. A gentle grin, all things considered, holding no malicious teasing, as his eyes clearly roved down her form to take her in.

Slate kept his gaze on her all the while. But so did every male present. Even as small a tribe as this was, those present couldn't be prouder to be chosen. New stock like Slate and Viridian lended to stronger bloodlines, made them attractive prospects to other females. Diversifying their brood, but Slate didn't care. Didn't care that he used to be an outsider.

He only had eyes for Mosquito, and the grin faded the closer she wandered when it finally came time to choose. His locked with hers, his heart rattling in his chest. Then again, she'd know when she saw him she said. And yet here she was looking right at him.

When their gazes locked, she could've sworn her heart stopped for a moment before it sped up and hammered up inside of her chest, working its way up to the base of her throat. She felt like it was almost hard to breathe, the jolts of his eyes on her sending shivers down her spine.

She caught the smirk, the look he gave her, and a part of her couldn't help but smirk back and roll her eyes in return, before her eyes were locked back on his after but a single moment.

Desperately, her heart waged war with her mind, trying to convince her to just do it--pick him. It would be so easy, so painless, even if for just this one night, even if he didn't like her too. Even if he only saw her as a piece of meat, there was a small part of her that would be okay with that, if it meant he looked at her. Thought of her that way, even for a second.

She fucking hated it, hated how her gut twisted and her heart throbbed and ached. It would be so easy.

But she feared the potential of what could happen afterward the most. She couldn't miss something she'd never had--but what if she had him? What then? What if that feeling didn't go away, and the clan got suspicious of her frequent visits to his tent, of time they spent together?

Even though he and his brother had been with them a while now, they were still outsiders. There was still the slim possibility that they could be pushed out, and that thought seized up Azalea's emotions from her core, freezing her to the bone. She couldn't imagine this tribe without Slate. Didn't want to--refused to, even.

So as she stepped closer, looking over all the males as she considered who she might pick, her gaze landed on his one last time. Her breath caught in her throat, did she dare make the decision that could ruin both of their lives, or did she ruin just hers?

"Jade."

She turned and looked away from Slate, her heart shattering as she did, as she ended her chances with a single word. Instead she looked at another male of the tribe, not terribly older than herself, who was a pretty light green, who seemed shocked that she'd said his name. They didn't really speak much, weren't particularly close, and had never had anything to say to each other. And yet here she was, placing all her hope in him that maybe he could cure her of this strange disease she refused to admit to or call by name.

"I choose Jade."

She couldn't look at Slate, and absolutely refused to. She felt fragile enough as it was, like a cracked vase just waiting to tip over and shatter into hundreds of tiny, glimmering pieces in the sand. If she looked at him, she would break. If she thought about him, she would break.


And yet as she entered Jade's tent and dropped the meager cloth that had been covering her body, seeing this male awaiting her who wasn't who she wanted, she couldn't feel more dreadful, more numb. It was the first time for both of them, and it involved a lot of awkward fumbling, frustration she had to swallow down along with her pride, and pain. At the end of it she felt disgusting, vile and ashamed, but at the very least as Jade slept on and she silently slipped from his bed, gathering her clothing, covering herself and exiting to stand at the edge of the village and stare up at the stars, she felt somewhat resolute.

She knew as the tears started falling that she hadn't been fixed. It had taken everything in her to not think of Slate the entire time; his stupid mischievous grin, his cackle, the look in his eyes when he found something new to tease her about. The way her heart throbbed and felt broken and shattered, lying in pieces at the sinking pit in her stomach. She felt twisted, sick, and wrong, for doing what she had done. But at least Slate was safe for now, until her next Choosing when she'd have to pick someone else.

She swallowed down another heavy sob, wiping furiously at the tears under her eyes as she tried to soothe herself with a lullaby one of the other females had sang to her when she was young. Her fingertips reached down to touch at the wound on the back of her leg, which had reopened and started to bleed again at some point during the night, but she couldn't bring herself to go to Slate's tent and ask him to fix it for her.

Not when she couldn't look him in the eyes. Not when she smelled like someone else. Not when she felt like this.

She was right. And who could blame her. Definitely not him.

She was young wanted someone strong and virile. He was a healer, not a warrior, not even a blacksmith. He stitched butt wounds and plucked needles out of someone that fell onto a cactus, not warded off against rogue tribes, and other potential dangers. He didn't even hunt. Of course she chose Jade. It was too bad Jade couldn't appreciate who he'd been chosen by the way Slate could.

And from what he knew, this was his first.

It was all Slate could think about in order it ignore the ache in his chest, the wild panging throb in his heart when she walked off with him into the tent to breed for the good of the Clan. For the heavenly fire. Slate's throat balled up, into a dry aching mess and he didn't even hear Viridian as his brother walked off and said good night.

Slate was still standing there until he was the last one, watching her disappear and soon he did too, going back to his tent and closing it off. He clenched his teeth and threw off his robes, the worn cloth tattered from reuse. The one he'd worn over his shoulders in the best presentation of himself. But no, he'd been unworthy and unchosen. Maybe next time. Maybe he'd be better. Maybe he could get a new silk shirt that she'd notice.

Slate didn't get to sleep, and after a few hours the restlessness of working on salves did nothing to sate his restlessly wandering mind. He stepped outside, pushing aside the curtain and seeing everyone else was asleep, save for the night guard. The night desert air was cool and he whipped his tail to the side, playing with a pebble that went tumbling off ahead of him. Which he did so again and again with little thought, until the rock landed next to someone shiny and pink.

His eyes meandered over to where a sliver of blood eased down the side of her leg. "You know, when you're bleeding like that, you probably should come and see me," he commented softly, standing next to Azalea and brushing her shoulder with his. He gave her a smile, despite his nostrils flaring and the scent of Jade making his hackles rise.  He tried not to show it, but his jaw clenched and he gently reached his elbow up to nudge at her. "Hey, let me patch you up."

She'd eventually managed to calm herself down enough that the heavy sobs had passed, and she could breathe again, but the tracks of tears still kept coming, rolling down her cheeks as she stared at the stars and wondered what she'd done to anger the gods. Why did they decide to give her this fate, this fate of loving someone she wasn't ever supposed to..? The only way it could have been worse was if he wasn't another Kulshedra at all--but the fact that he was an outsider almost made it just as bad.

She didn't hear anything at first until the pebble hit her leg and she blinked, startled with a soft jolt as she looked over and her heart stopped, eyes widening in horror as her heart leapt into full panic mode, beating fast in her chest. What was Slate doing out here so late!?

The stars and moonlight did a good job at shining off of the tears in her eyes and down her face, and she stared at him for a good several moments in utter terror, every muscle frozen, the aches and pains temporarily forgotten as she wondered how in the hell she would get herself out of this one.

She caught the flare of his nostrils, and the shame swallowed her whole as she looked away instead of staring at him.

She was frozen solid in her place, unable to move, unable to run. Her leg hurt, the parts in between her legs hurt, but her heart hurt the most and she was afraid if she took a single step she would shatter into pieces. Already more tears were welling up in her eyes as she reached up to try and hide her face, but the waver and shake in her voice gave everything away and drizzled it with her own tangible fear on top of it. It was the most she could do to shy away from his touch.

"P-Please don't look at me."

She wasn't at all the Azalea he expected when she was finished, and finally sing seeing her in the state she was in, worn and aching, tired and utterly filled with sorrow made his stomach clench right up. Slate's throat knotted up again, and he shifted so that he could get a better look at her, staying close and ignoring her plea. Because it was a stupid plea.

"Azalea," he murmured, not even noticing then that he was addressing her by name. The words came out naturally and he reached a hand up to go underneath  her chin to prop it up so that she could get a better look at him. He frowned and released her, taking her by the wrist and tugging her along. "Okay, let's go. You're coming with me because you're bleeding and you're a mess and standing here is stupid."

It was, and the sooner he got her alone, the sooner he could ask her why against all instruction had she let herself get hurt all over again. She had one job and she couldn't even do that. Good job Mosquito, great job. Wonderful JOB!

Again another distracting thought from focusing on her distress alone and he didn't take no for an answer as he trudged her back to his tent and nudged her inside.  "Get in there," he ordered and pulled the flap closed behind them.  He knotted it at the end to keep it secure and he lit the small candle in the corner.

"A little fire to honor the Heavenly fire," he murmured in prayer before walking over to her. "Hey, now, you're crying and sobbing all over," he muttered, and gently took the cotton worn robe he'd been wearing before and draped it over her shoulders. Anything to replace the smell of Jade with his own.

Her ears twitched when she heard the sound of her name coming from Slate's lips, and even in her state of distress, her heart skipped a painful beat.

He never called her by her name, and in doing so more tears started to well up in her eyes, so much so to the point that it was all she could do to bite her lower lip to keep in another sob, nodding when he grabbed her wrist and just letting him take her wherever he willed. At this point she didn't care, she was too exhausted to put up a fight. Too ashamed. Too much a disgrace.

She dropped her gaze, ears drooping and shoulders hunching as he ordered her into his tent and she realized that he probably said her name because she was in trouble. She'd let that wound open up again (despite her telling Jade to be careful,) so now Slate was probably angry.

And yet the moment she felt the soft, warm weight of Slate's robe placed around her, his scent falling around her like the most comforting blanket, she couldn't help it when the sob escaped and she started crying again. She clutched at that robe with all her might until her knuckles turned white under her scales, her head down as her shoulders shook.

Gods all, she'd never wanted anyone to see her like this. Slate least of all. Mostly cause he'd probably just make fun of her and call her a crybaby, but also because he should never see her in a state that was anything less than perfect. Because that was... That was what she felt, deep in her heart, that he deserved.

"S-Slate, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," She managed to say in between sobs, wishing for nothing more than to just hug him and cry against him, but even that she denied herself. She felt awful enough just for clinging so hard to his robe, to the scent of him that was on it. "I--I tried to tell him to be gentle I swear--"

Her words caught on her cries, because Slate being angry with her right now was one more thing she just couldn't bear. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," She said it over and over again, panic rising in her chest as she tried her best to keep quiet, so she didn't disturb the others, and yet her distress was so obvious. If only he knew that it wasn't just her leg that she was saying she was sorry for.

He shouldn't have been surprised when the small thing in front of him was soon wracking herself with sobs. His eyes widened, but she was already such a hysterical trembling mess that when she did so, he gasped softly and let out a soft cooing hum as he dropped his legs down enough to meet her at her level. "Hey now. Heeeeeyyyy," he soothed, his tone swooping into a decadent baritone that would reverberate through her.

"Azalea, calm down," he muttered and when her sobs evidently would not cease he slowly reached his arms around her, scooping her close and pressing his head over her shoulder. "It's ok. Things like this happen from time to time. There's no need to beat yourself up over it, girly girl. C'mon now. Take a deep breath."  Slate didn't belittle her as he might have been wont to on any other occasion, instead his arms keeping her close and one arm hooked over he shoulder when shifted away enough to lead her to his cot in the corner.

"Lay down," he instructed and turned her so that she could lay on her belly, freeing her tail and legs from the pads and furs he'd slept in. He knelt down next to her, reaching for a fresh shirt he had in a knapsack and laying it underneath her.  "Jade doesn't know what he's doing. He's a young buck. You can't expect a fumbling thing like him to even listen to you, let alone follow simple instructions. Boy had cactus spines poking out of his leg. So I pulled them out and told him not to scratch them for a few days. He comes back and complains they got all red and bumpy and weren't healing. Stupid rockhead, he is. Don't feel bad, lovely. I'll take care of you."

He shushed her softly as he moved around the tent, gathering a mortar and pestle and some of the salve he'd been fixing up before he wandered outside. Seeing her in so much distress made his ears flick and twitch, pulling up a stool just beside her and setting down the medicinal herbs in the mortar.  Slate flicked his eyes at hers, meeting her gaze as his hand reached up and pushed her hair back. The redness of her eyes, and the moisture left by tears he rubbed away with his thumb.  "Now you know not to pick him next time. He's dumb. You'll want a male that has a modicum of experience, to make sure you're taken care of."

Slate's heart jumped a little, and his stomach flipped at the thought that there would be a next time, and his heart went out to her that this first time - the one she'd remember most of all - had been ruined. He visibly frowned as he went to work cleaning her up, expertly cutting the stitches and applying the salve, rubbing it in gently.  He took a few strips of cloth and bound them around her leg this time, as opposed to stitches. She'd already been poked unpleasantly once tonight. No need for him to be stabbing her again.

"Do you want to stay here tonight?" he offered, wiping his hands clean and brushing her hair back some more.

She wished to the heavens her heart would stop jumping every time she heard him say her name. Wished to the heavens that her breath didn't hitch when he touched her, or when he wiped the tears from her face. She nodded and forced herself to take a deep breath as the gentleness in his voice soothed herm Maybe she wasn't in so much trouble, maybe he wasn't angry. Was she overreacting? Probably.

She just wished it didn't feel like her chest was being torn apart by someone's bare hands.

Instinctively when his arms slid around her she returned the hug, holding onto him tightly as if she were afraid he was a mirage that would disappear with the next wind sweep of the sands. Part of her wished this was just a dream, part of her hoped it was actually real, and she didn't know which one to go with.

Azalea followed his lead, letting him go through the motions of his preparations like this was nothing, just another patient, another accident to happen that was easily treatable. The physical wound might've been, but she didn't know about the rest of her. She obeyed him and laid down, wincing as he cleaned up and tied off the wound on her leg, barely managing to hold back her whimpers of pain.

She snorted softly when he mentioned that old memory, remembering Jade's whoops of pain when he initially landed on the damn thing. Back then she'd thought it was funny and had had no sympathy for him. Maybe she'd picked him out of residual guilt for that, or maybe this was just life coming back to literally bite her in the ass.

He called her lovely and her heart throbbed painfully. The idea of Slate taking care of her shouldn't have sounded as heavenly as it did, and yet it did. She nodded quietly in agreement with his statement; someone more experienced... If only he knew. A bit of jealousy burned inside of her that he was just that--more experienced. That he'd been picked by others before. She didn't let herself dwell on it though, instead figeting with the cloth he'd set underneath her on the cot as she sucked in another deliberately slow breath and let it out in a measured, heavy sigh.

When it was done she slowly sat up, laying more on one leg and side of her hip than the other, keeping the wounded one off of anything for now. But when he made his suggestion, her ears went from they had been drooping to twitching and perking upward; she looked at him with surprise clear in her eyes, and for a brief second she considered it--the notion of saying no came up, and that was where it ended. She nodded quickly, wiping a few more residual tears from the corners of her eyes.

"I-I can sleep on the floor, or something. I don't wanna take your bed," She started to offer, but there was no denying the small part of her that hoped he'd suggest the bed was big enough to share--which it was, if only just enough so--before she quickly told herself to stop being stupid, Azalea.

"T-Thank you. For offering. And your help. You didn't have to do that." She said quietly when she realized with a start she hadn't thanked him yet, dropping her gaze because it was still so hard to look him in the eyes when she felt so guilty, like she'd done him such a wrong, and yet he didn't have the slightest idea--and would have probably called her silly if she told him.

Slate tried to smile, to stay relatively calm and well-humored for the both of them. He didn't know what more he could say, really. And offering her what he owned, what he valued, he hoped she would take to heart that he meant her well. He kept his gaze soft, and the curve of his lips gently fell into a frown when she refused his offer.

Of course, she wasn't going to sleep on the floor.

"What in the rockhead are you talking about, Azalea. You're not sleeping on the damn floor. You could have done that in your own tent. That's not happening. You're taking my bed whether you like it or not. And if you're that insistent about not stealing it from me, then I can scoot my butt and tail outta the way and sleep on the other side of it, huh," he revised his offer and nudged her shoulder with his.

He stood up and pulled his shirt over his head and motioned her to scoot over. "Don't disturb those stitches okay, no git your butt over there, Mosquito," he grumbled and flopped down onto the bed next to her. "I've had a long day and I want to make sure I get some decent shut-eye. As should you."

He shifted over onto his side and settled his weight along the edge of it. His tail hung off to the side and swayed lazily. "But jokes aside," he mumbled and gently stroked a thumb on her cheek. "You gonna be ok?"

She blinked and looked up at him in a bit of surprise when he spoke, seeing his disapproving frown. At first it hurt, until he nudged her shoulder and said he'd just sleep on the bed too.

Her heart throbbed and skipped a beat.

Maybe, just for this one night, she could actually pretend..?

With a squeak she was hastily scooted onto the far side of the bed so he could get on, and she watched him get comfortable for a moment, hesitating before laying down and finding the two of them facing each other. His face was so close to hers in the tight space, and for a moment she thought she could see every emotion in those eyes of his. Her heartbeat sped up, and for a moment she forgot to let out her breath when he stroked her cheek.

A really strong emotion welled up inside of her; she wasn't sure what it was, but it brought a few tears to her eyes as she pursed her lips and nodded. There was a beat, and then without thinking she reached up to rest her hand on his. She let her long slender fingers slip around the back of his hand as she stroked his knuckles with her thumb. She couldn't tear her gaze away from his, and the warmth of his hand spread throughout her and it just felt so nice.

"Thank you." She said again, her voice barely a whisper as she gave his hand a gentle squeeze.

He didn't need a silk shirt to get her to look at him that the way she did just now. And it made a blush touch his cheeks. Slate had to gasp softly and the warmth behind his eyes made a small bubble of tears bubble up underneath their rim. He held his breath, catching it and a small smile curled at the corner of his lips.

"Yeah. It's uh... it's my pleasure. Any time you want to just kind of.... hang out, you can," he murmured and exhaled softly as she squeezed his hand. His heart sped up with the way she gazed into his eyes and he leaned his head forward to kiss her gently on the forehead. "My door is always open to you."

The offer was geniune and when the words escaped his lips he released that deep breath and scooted in even closer so that he could nestle her into the crook of his neck. Slate shifted so that she could sleep on his shoulder.  With a lick of his foot, he pulled the blanket over both of them and kissed her forehead again.

"Good night Azalea," he whispered. Closing his eyes, he was soon fast asleep and breathing lightly. He had gotten the best sleep he'd had in days and the closure of his tent kept it well insulated. The chill from the evening desert had been abated, with the warmth of the body on top of him.

Slate's eyes blinked open sleepily, his free hand reaching up and rubbing the morning crusts from his eyes. He was stiff feeling something was really heavy on top of him and he groaned softly until his eyes widened at the sight of Azalea. Oh that's right, she stayed the night.

He didn't move - moreso because he couldn't than because he wanted to. He simply stared up at the tent ceiling and yawned and tried to ignore the awkward morning ache in his groin.

She noticed after a moment that his eyes were shining too, though she wasn't really sure why. She didn't bother to think too much about it--right now she was in the moment. They both were. And right now she didn't want this moment to ever end.

When he pressed the kiss to her forehead her heart felt like it was about to leap right out of her chest, and the words that went with only made it that much stronger of a feeling. She could come hang out..?

Before now they'd usually seen each other in passing or when one needed something from the other, or in public settings. He'd tease her, she'd get huffy at him (later getting huffy was all pretend) and they just went on like that for a long time, somehow getting to know each other throughout all of it. Would it be weird if they hung out, now? Would the other tribe members think it was suspicious?

How much did she care?

She wanted to protect him, she didn't want to get him in any trouble because of how she was feeling, but every single feeling in her--her heart, her gut, her mind--was telling her to do it.

"O-Okay," She murmured, scooting in closer too when he did as she let her hand move from his to hesitate and then rest on his side, giving him another gentle squeeze. "I'd... Like that."

She didn't protest at all as he moved so she could rest her head on his shoulder, whispering a gentle "Goodnight." And before she knew it she was out like a light, even though she wished she could stay awake to cherish every moment.

Throughout the night she'd slowly entangled their limbs together, pulling him in until they were both in the middle of the bed and her head was using his chest as a pillow, an arm draped over his midsection in a firm hug. He woke up first; she was so tired from the day before, so tired from crying, so tired from her hurt leg that she was still out like a light, and blissfully unaware of his morning problem.

Unfortunately not all good things could last; after a little while she started to stir, starting first with a stretch that made her back arch and tailtip twitch, then she sat up half way on an elbow, blinking slowly and rubbing the sand from her eyes with a look almost akin to a pout.

She took one look at him, and laid back down with her head back on his chest as she squeezed him in a hug.

"Fivemoreminutes."

Slate couldn't very well stay in bed all day, no matter how much he wanted to. No matter how much even the slightest movement left his neck stiff and his back a little sore. He wasn't used to the weight of another body on top of him. Something felt natural in the way Azalea laid  on top of him though, comfortable, sleeping soundly and probably better than she would have otherwise.

She was just tired of course. Anyone that tired and that stressed probably would have knocked anyone on their butt by the time it came to conking out for bed. But the little warmth that billowed up in his belly and into his chest told him he was glad she stayed.

Glad that she decided to stay here with him instead of rebuffing him and going off on her own. At least then he could keep an eye on her stitches and make sure they didn't open up again. Slate's arm scooped around her lower back and hugged her tightly, making sure she didn't suddenly stir awake and fall off him.

He did nudge his hips against hers though, as if to vaguely confirm the ache he realized was pressed against her. Oops.  Not that he had much control over that anyway.

Slate leaned his head down and nudged her forehead with his chin, patting her back softly just as she stirred, groaning for more time to stay asleep.

"Hey there, Skeet," he chuckled and poked her sides gently, letting his fingers walk along her ribs. "It's morning now, y'know and you drooled a little when you were snoozing. I almost woke up in a lake."

There was certainly no doubt about how much of a night owl Azalea was meant to be, nope, none at all--not if the burning death glare she gave Slate at the nudges and pokes had anything to say about it. After all, she was a star gazer, a navigator--she usually didn't get up until much later in the day to begin with.

"A lake?" She growled, her voice a bit rough with sleep, "You better learn how to swim then."

She tried once more to get comfortable again, and that was when she noticed something was a bit... Off.

"... Slate?"

She sat up better as she looked down, wondering if there was something else on the bed, like maybe a rock or something--oh. Nope. No.

Aaaaand now the rest of her face was as red to match the color of her scales and hair.

"Oi, look I know I'm pretty and all Slate but come on now I just woke up," She said with a tired smirk crossed with a slightly withering look and an eyebrow raise.

She looked away from him though in the hopes that he didn't catch her blush (even though he totally probably did) as she sat up better and tucked her legs more daintily underneath herself when she realized they were still entangled with his. And yet as his warmth left her she found herself immediately wanting to go right back in for more, though she held back and let him get off the bed first.

"I always kinda wondered what you were like in the mornings, if you had a routine. Think I got a pretty good idea now." She snorted, sweeping her long hair over her shoulder to start finger combing the tangles out of it.

Maybe if he was really lucky, she wouldn't notice. Maybe she'd just...

No. Nope.  Not gonna happen today. Oh fire.

"Yeah?" he muttered, his face going stark raving red at the fact that she had to point it out and everything.  He met her gaze and the heat went right to his eyes.  He had to look away the second she smirked and when he just couldn't hold it back anymore, it was quickly followed by a guffaw and a snort of his own. Because in what world was this just not funny?

He noticed her blush, of course, and shifted so that he could crack his back a little more, sitting up.  His lips curled in a soft grin, chuckling as he did so. "I mean I'd be a pretty rotten host if I had a pretty girl like you in my bed and i didn't get morning wood. So rude of me. How dare I, I think I'm gonna go cry in the corner now," he mocked sobbed and with some effort untangled their legs.

He rolled them over the side, pushing himself off to stand, pulling a robe over his shoulders, letting it hang loosely and readjusting the -ahem, stiffy in his pants. Slate, unable to remove the blush from his face, decided he was just better off living with it.

"I bet you're pretty hungry though, huh. Come on, let's go make some breakfast and cry into some eggs. You do know how to cook an egg right?" he murmured, raising an eyebrow quizzically at her. His tail swished out to her and curled around her ankle, brushing around it to pull her along with him toward the small clay oven he had next to a small basket of eggs.

If it had been anyone else who said something like that to her, she'd have smacked them right across the face. Hell, her first reaction even though it was Slate was to do exactly that; but before she could react proper, her heart skipped a beat when she realized he'd called her pretty.

Pretty? Did he really think so?

Oh, Fire, help her now she was turning into a fucking moron.

"O-Oh shut up, you'd react the same if you had any girl in your bed," She snapped back with a huff, secretly hating it when he untangled their legs and left her by her lonesome on the bed anyways.

She felt cold and a little bit empty as she watched him step away. How rare a night had that truly been? She hadn't even had much of a chance to properly enjoy it; here in a moment, gone in a flash. She pursed her lips, ears flicking down until he turned to look at her with that robe on.

Hungry? Actually, yeah come to think of it--

"You do know how to cook an egg right?"

A flare of offense and indignation broiled up in her chest as she followed his lead, opening her mouth to retort but the feeling of his tail around her ankle making her stutter and catch herself for a second as she stepped after him anyways.

"I--!! Of course I know how to cook an egg! Duh, who doesn't know how to do that? Fire, Slate, step aside let me show you how it's done." She sneered as she scooted past him, the tight space of the tent making her hips brush against his as she knelt down by the basket of eggs as Slate turned on the oven, and suddenly she realized her grave mistake.

No, no she did not know how to make eggs.

She didn't cook at all--never had to. She just ate what the rest of the clan did, or what the elders shared for breakfast.

What the hell was she supposed to do with an egg and an oven?

She snatched a brown little egg from the basket and stared at it in the palm of her hand for a moment like she thought it was going to burst into flames or something, before looking at the oven and then the egg and yeah her face was now as pink as her scales. Again.

Again.

"Uh," She stammered, extremely eloquently.

Her tail curled awkwardly around her folded legs as she refused to look at Slate, instead handing the egg over to him.

"Nevermind, you can do it. I don't, uh, feel like it."

He had a feeling she'd blanche at the thought of doing actual work. It was a little pathetic but at the same time he couldn't help but be endeared by her Innocent foolishness. She was so impetuous and he admired how much little thought she gave in doing, well, anything. But there was a point where he wasn't going to let her leave this tent without learning something useful that she might need later on in life.

"Oh no, skeeto. You're gonna learn how to at least cook an egg. Give me 3 more like it." He gave the eggs back to her and flipped a heavy worn skillet over the stove. The fire crackled underneath, eager and ready to spread its heat. He rummaged around a sealed barrel and pulled out a roll of butter that he slathered the surface of the skillet with and tucked it away back into sealed barrel.

"So we're just gonna crack these eggs over the pan now that's it's all greased up and ready to go. Then we'll grab some fresh spices and sprinkle those over the surface. Go on and try crack an egg as the pan heats up. Don't worry, you won't get burnt. I'm right here."

The moment Slate started to imply that it was high time she learn how to do actual work (other than her actual job as a navigator, which she was the best at mind you) she immediately scrunched her nose up at the thought. She started to whine a little but a tiny voice in the back of her head did admit it was kind of well overdue for her to learn something like this.

She'd been kind of a princess of their tribe so other than her serious time dedicated to learning from the elders on how to be an effective navigator and how to read and recognize stars, she really didn't have very much else expected of her. It seemed it was mostly her duty to just look pretty and produce lots of equally pretty babies, outside of stargazing. And while it was nice to be pampered and treated well there was a part of her that was still very naturally curious about the things the others did in the tribe that she couldn't partake in.

She glanced over at him and huffed a bit as she did as he told, grabbing a few more eggs and watching him slather the pan with butter.

"Why does it need to be greasy?" She asked in all seriousness as she glanced from the eggs in her hand to the edge of the pan.

She'd seen other tribe members cook once or twice, they just kinda smacked the egg really fast over the edge of the pan right? How hard could it be? So she set the other two eggs to the side, held the handle of the pan in one hand and positioned the egg carefully in her left. She bit her lip as her brows furrowed with concentration... Nice and quick, just like the others..!

She swung her hand with far too much force and the entire egg pretty much exploded with only about half of it making it into the pan along with some eggshell and the yolk. The other half slid down the underside before she could comprehend what was happening and dropped into the flames. She let out an audible croak as she looked from the pan to her hand which was now covered in gooey egg whites.

"I... But I just did it like everyone else?? What?!"

Yes, Slate, it was a serious question.  He nearly balked when being asked why the pan had to be greased. And he would have answered it too had she not taken the initiative to begin the cooking process like he'd instructed her talk. She didn't know how strong she was did she?

He cackled when she looked back at him at the eggsplosion. "Man I've done that before. It's ok. I think what you meant to do was crack to gently on the edge." He fished out the bits of shell first because he didn't feel like crunching his eggs. And shucked off the remains to the side.

"Let's try again." This time he grabbed her hand and wrapped his fingers over hers, taking one more egg and gently rapping the side against the pan's edge. A small fissure appeared, much finer than the firebomb she'd unleashed on his tiny stove. Then he gently took his other hand and coaxed the two broken halves of the egg apart. Some yolk got on her fingers as he still held his hand over hers and then let her go.

"It's okay to get a little dirty. Just clean your hands on something. Then try the next egg yourself."

Slate's cackling made her flush bright red with embarrassment, her ears swiveling downwards in shame as she realized how utterly stupid and helpless she was. Everyone else could do it, they made it look so easy, why couldn't she??

She braced herself fully for his jeering, waiting for him to call her a dolt and ask how she even remembered to breathe or something, but it never came. Her shoulders relaxed a little as the other Kulshedra wrapped his hand carefully around hers and she watched, fixated with full concentration on the motion and the amount of force he applied to it.

She was determined to get this right, she couldn't possibly fuck up a second time. She was used to being praised for everything she did, not the opposite, so she was fully focused on fixing this.

She flicked some drops of egg into the pan, the sizzling sounds loud in her ears as she pucked up the third egg and grimaced a little. Right, okay, gently now...

She tapped it lightly against the edge of the pan, and while a small hairline crack appeared, it apparently wasn't enough to open it. Holding her breath as she concentrated, she tapped it again, just slightly harder, and as soon as the crack appeared she lurched to keep the egg suspended over the center of the pan so half didn't end up in the fire again. She coaxed her carefully maintained nails into the edges of the seam and split it; it didn't come clean into two perfect halves like Slate's had, but the egg plopped successfully into the pan with no eggshell bits in it!

She pulled her arms back, setting the empty shell with the others and was beaming. Okay, that wasn't so hard! She'd just been a little too eager to be fast like the others, was all!

"You didn't answer my question." She said, looking up at him with her triumphant smile still plastered on her face.

"And do you know how to cook other stuff?"

It occurred to her then that while they knew each others' personalities like they knew their own scales, she didn't know a whole lot about him past what she'd observed in the years he'd been in the tribe. How he interacted with the others, the kinds of faces he made, what kinds of jokes he liked, the food he didn't eat and even a rough idea of his sleep schedule (but to be fair she knew all that about most of the other tribe members too, there weren't many of them.)

She wanted to know other things about him, maybe even things the others didn't know--and she didn't know why that made her heart skip a beat.

"There you go! I knew you could do it," Slate beamed when her egg successfully plopped into the buttered pan. The sizzle and smell made his stomach rumble. He was hungrier than he thought but her presence somehow distracted him from realizing it until now. She was so cute trying to figure out how to successfully crack it without making a mess, or an ass of herself.

"You did a good job." He nodded and took the eggshell pile, tossing it into a compost bin that he'd give out to the soil at some point. OH right, she had asked him a question. But she always did. She was so full of curiosities that he didn't know which ones to answer first.  Right, though. Buttered pan.

"Well, we grease it up to keep the eggs from sticking to the metal. These skillets are notorious for making things cling to them. And the butter gives the eggs a nice savory flavor. Speaking of which, we should add our spices. It'll make everything tasty-ier." He smiled at her and went about producing fresh spices like some oregano and pepper that had ground from a mortar and pestle.

"If you open that container next to the pepper, there should be some salt in there. Go ahead and take a pinch of each one and sprinkle them over the eggs. Then we'll cover them and let the insides cook a bit before we serve them on our plates. This is fun isn't it?"