Fire, Fire, Burning Bright...

[Anonymous]

"There." Baile placed the last large tree branch in the stack and stepped back to admire his handy-work. His bonfire was nice, but...without fire, it was just a bon. Not a bonfire. He searched the ground for his flint and rock, singing a song that he and his friends used to sing:

How great I am.
Gotta tell myself, "Yeah, I'm the man."
Looks grim right now...
...Pretty soon we'll be laughing 'bout this.
Ooooh, it's all right;
Yeah, it is. I swear, you'll see.
(It's not really--)
Yeeeeah, it's all right;
'Cause I've always got my family of me.

He cut the song short once he found his utensils and began nicking them together. A spark finally flew into the bonfire and began eating its way through one of the tree branches. He blew on the smoking branch until it finally gave birth to a fire. Baile sighed and sat before the fire, not caring how close he was to the fire and not caring equally about how close the bonfire was to the surrounding evergreens.

Baile turned away from his rapture and looked at the deepening woods--something was moving about in there. Baile wasn't worried that much--he did have a raging fire behind him after all.

[Anonymous]

The "movement" in the darkened woods was, in fact, less than voluntary. Milo Morrow was putting himself to rights after literally stumbing over something (which was probably his own foot).

He had seen the flickering of a campfire through the thinning growth, and had steadily moved toward it; however, the thought of warmth and possible company (the singing was acceptably jovial) had distracted him, and when Milo was distracted, Milo's walking skills became haphazard. So, brushing himself off and hoping no one had witnessed that particular bout of clumsiness, he gathered his fallen walking stick and emerged from the forest.

Seeing that there seemed to be only one person tending what promised to be a roaring bonfire, he raised a hand in genial greeting.

"Do you mind if I join you, Friend?" he asked, motioning to the fire.

[Anonymous]

With one nod of the head, Baile took in the odd man. His greenish-red eyes examined where his knees were--in fact, the more he looked, this man had none. He turned back to his bonfire and smiled. This would be funny--normally his kind picked friends by the lack of fear; if the man wasn't afraid of fire, Baile would trust him without another word. However if the man were to even flinch, Baile would let him stay but would keep him at a distance.

He lifted up a burning stick and held it over his shoulder as if he were carrying a homeless man's burning bag-and-stick. The fire rose just behind Baile's head as he turned back to the man. "Sure, why not? You're not scared of being burned, are you?" The question was both prodding and somewhat of a jest. He held out the flaming stick towards the no-knee man and raised his brows. Against the fire, his eyes shone a brilliant green with devilish hints of orange and crimson.

His red hair framed his slightly-feminine face as he looked up at the tall man. He could sense it--someone else was here, and, not only that, but the strange man was contemplating his situation.

((Emoosts, do you mind if we have another person in our RP? ^-^;; I don't wanna kick Milo out...))

[Anonymous]

Milo took a step back from the makeshift torch as it swung toward his face; it wasn't fear, per se, that made him retreat. It more of a precaution: he wasn't afraid of fire, but he was certainly uncomfortable with the thought of being severely burned. There were very few deaths more disconcerting than being roasted alive.

"I'd be a fool to say I wasn't afraid of being burned," he replied, returning his gaze to the stranger. "Fear is an instinct towards self-preservation, and I'd certainly like to proserve myself from nasty fire-related injuries."

Whether this was meant as a joke, or in complete seriousness, was almost impossible to tell by the neutral expression on his face; privately, he decided to keep a close watch on the hand that was weilding the stick. Just in case.

((I'm sorry!  :oops:  I'll back out if this one's private.))

[Anonymous]

((It's fine for now. ^-^ When Emoosts replies, we'll see if it's okay or not. It's fine with me, just for the record.))

He eyed the man and looked him up and down again with curiosity. Good answer. He lowered the stick and put it back into the bonfire. To the fire he said, "Then don't get too close." He lay down with his hands behind his back, looking up at the stars. It seemed more beautiful to him because of the embers that floated towards the heavens.

"So. What's-your-name...why don't you have any knees? Are they fake or something? I've never seen anyone so tall before." He pondered a moment, then sat up immediately. His village, the Strange-- "Are you a demon?" His question was serious. He reached for another flaming stick as he waited for the man's response. If he was a demon, then they would have to tango...

[Anonymous]

Milo took this as an invitation to take a position closer to the fire. He lowered himself to a squatting stance, his legs bending backward to accomodate the crouch. The rapid-fire questions made him smile slightly; it was good to see curiousity in anyone.

At the last question, the defensive action his companion took - reaching for the kindling as though a little fire would frighten away a demon - wasn't lost on Milo. The man had some backbone, that much was certain.

"No, I'm not a demon," he answered, shaking his head in amusement. "Although, if I was, I wouldn't likely speak honestly on the subject, seeing that you're going after that stick again, would I?"

He rearranged himself so he was in a kneeling position - a more relaxed stance would, hopefully, put the other man at ease. "As for my knees..."

He tapped a jutting bone at his left hip. "I have them."

It wasn't as though he'd never answered these questions before. Without waiting for the question to be asked, he motioned to the reversed joints where there would normally be a humanoid kneecap. "These are my 'ankles'."

"I take it there's some disquiet about demons in these parts?" he asked in as off-hand a manner as he could.

[Anonymous]

Baile's eyes widened as the man's legs bent backwards when he crouched. He laughed softly at the man's answer and nodded, pulling his hand away from the fire. "Very true, my creepy friend."

He blinked at this creature's jutting bone, trying to convince what he was looking at wasn't quite the hipbone. He reached over and hesitated, reminding himself that this was why he was forced to leave his village--his learning through touching. Well...it was one reason why he was forced to leave.

And as soon as his mind began drifting towards that awful afternoon, the man asked about demons. Baile shook his head with a sad smile. "No, dear one. Back at my home. Where I come from, all strange-looking outsiders are considered demons until proven otherwise. It's engrained into every Jenasis villager's mind--" Jenasis was the teeny village he once belonged to. "--forever and ever." He looked back up at the sky, doing all that he could to hold back the pain in his eyes. "So what exactly is your name, dear one?"

[Anonymous]

Milo blinked in mild surprise, having never before been referred to as "creepy". Oh well. He thought perhaps he was just as odd to people like his companion as they were to him when he first experienced them.

Creepy fit, he supposed. He himself was only just getting used to their way of sitting, with their short ankles crossed in what was called a "lotus" position. Hhe had never been able to master that one, and never intended to. Creepy fit that, too...

The endearment term was comfortable for him; a good start for a friendship, at any rate. Better than waving flaming torches in each other's faces. He smiled and settled back, his walking stick lying unwonted at his side for now.

"I'm called Milo." He said it Mee-low, rather than My-loh. "And you'll have the advantage on me now. I've yet to learn how you are called." A name, to Milo, was less of a name, and more of a way of getting the attention of a specific person - more effective than "Hey, you!".

He didn't wait for an answer to this statement. Instead, he reached over and touched his companion on the arm. Gently, he coaxed, "I want to learn of your Jenasis village. Will you tell me?"

[Anonymous]

[doesn't bother me - just give me some time to respond, man. XP]


True to her itchy-footed nature, she had stole from the town to find herself amidst the trees. Yahto had already made herself well-known in town, having blatantly stole herself from food, cigars, and skipped on her lodgings bill. Soon enough, each city and town would be on the lookout for dear Yahto - a woman who frequently set fire to things. Actually, just thinking about how she had set fire to the one inn she had stayed at filled her with delight.

She stretched her arms above her head, her bag slung across her shoulders. She had easily spotted the fire, and she could almost feel the heat against her skin - she wanted to be standing near to it, watching the flames reach upwards to the sky and trees. And she needed to light her cigar. She reached into her bag, pulling out a fat cigar, afterwards dropping to the ground, knees bent to cushion her drop from her previous perch on a tree branch.

Her gray eyes scanned ahead of her, sifting eagerly amidst the forest. Then she found herself in the small camp - she nearly disregarded the two men with a wide grin and a slight roll of the shoulder near them. She stood close to the fire, holding out the end of her cigar to the flames. She brought it to her lips, sucking in the smoke and puffing it outwards. Her eyes leisurely turned to them.

"Hello boys. Don't mind me. I'm too lazy to make my own fire and I needed a cigar." She told them, obviously uncaring to their opinions.

"You shouldn't be so prejudiced against demons. I had a lover who was a demon, once. Very good in bed," she smirked, and it was almost impossible to tell if she was being serious or making up such a thing. She sucked in the smoke again. Puffed it out. The heat felt nice, radiating, warming her skin. The energy she felt was incredible - she took it in.

Yahto was pretty enough - if she wasn't 'roughing it' she'd probably be even beautiful. Her black hair was braided down her back, choppy, uneven hair cut around her face having fallen loose. The reason it was choppy? Yahto didn't just set things on fire, but often enough herself. It surprised many people that she was still alive and whole - but Yahto had more tricks up her sleeves than anyone could ever possibly know.

"I'm Yahto. Who're you two?" Yahto had no intention of leaving.

[Anonymous]

((Haha! ^-^;; Sorry...I kinda get carried away in RPs sometimes. I'll slow down. Promise!))

Baile jumped at the sudden appearance of the woman. He had sensed her earlier, but had quickly forgotten about her when Milo touched him and asked about Jenasis. He sat straight up and looked her over, listening to her speak about demons. He winced as she exposed personal information about her demon lover.

"So where is this demon lover of your now?" He questioned. "Must not've been that great if he's not with you now."

Quietly he gave his name "Baile Sheath. A pleasure...to meet...you?" He tilted his head as she smoked her cigar. He'd never witnessed a woman smoke anything besides very hallucinagenic drugs. This was also very intriguing to him. He turned to Milo for a moment to see if he was just as confused as he was. "Ah...and this is Milo. Milo the Great." He looked back up at the woman, lifting his arms in the air and stretching. "Well, Yahto, it seems as if we share a common interest." He nodded at her hair.

[Anonymous]

Milo chose to remain silent, and allow his companion - Baile, apparently - do the talking for now. He was unsure how to proceed with the newcomer. She seemed too masculine to him - to partake in tobacco was a thing only old men did in his village, and he was still unused to seeing a cigar in the hand of anyone under the age of sixty, much less a woman.

At  Baile's comment and direction to the woman's...what? Face? Hair? Milo studied her more carefully. She looked in disarray, and, in Milo's opinion, as though she didn't care for herself very well. He lost interest in her femininity rather quickly, and focused instead on her humanity.

Or was it the lack of humanity? Milo took her claim to have been a demon's consort at face value; it pained him to think she dishonored herself in that way.

"I hope your claim is an empty one, Yahto," he said sadly.

[Anonymous]

She had nothing to hide. Yahto saw secrets as something people were ashamed of and that's why they were kept secret, kept hidden from others. However, she had grown up in a house full of careless, and untameable women that were strikingly offensive and grated sorely on their own small society, but loved, comforted, and supported eachother as they simultaenously drank, smoked, and stayed up to all hours of the night. Her family expected nothing less of what she had exhibited back at home - her nature must and always would remain. Her family shared everything from clothes, food, drink, smoke, secrets, and, at times, men and women as well.

A village in which it was engraved in a person's mind that every outsider was a demon? Her mind worked around that thought, her lips secured tenderly around the cigar,  thinking about such a thing. The smoke blew from between her lips, held tilted at that thought, slipping her shoulder out from under the strap of her bag, dropping it to the ground a good distance from the fire and squatting, fingers twisting at a lock of black hair that curled around her jawbone.

"Hm?" She asked, gray eyes flickering up to the man who called himself Baile. "He's dead," she told him with an amused smile. Yahto had an array of lovers in her time, some were dead, and others just gone.

Milo the Great? She inclined her head towards Milo in greeting, her smile never slipping from her lips, curling very slightly to become a grin of sorts.

"Nice to meet ya both," she told them, her mischevious smirk turning into a wide grin.

Her hair? She touched it thoughtfully, at first bemused by his comment before it occured to her what had happened some time ago. She giggled softly, remembering the moment. This is why she generally tried to stay near lakes and rivers and streams. You never could tell when a little something such as setting yourself on fire would happen upon you.

"Indeed," she answered, flashing another grin that was so characteristic of her.

Then 'Milo the Great' spoke. Her eyes drifted up to him, brows arched over smoke-gray eyes. Why did he hope her claim was an empty one? The confusion certainly showed on her expressive face. In turn, she propped her elbows on her knees and leaned towards him slightly, head cocked.

"Is being a demon's lover a bad thing?" She asked him, bringing the cigar to her lips once more.

[Anonymous]

He smiled when Yahto said her demon lover was dead; a dead demon was a good demon. "Terribly...terribly sorry to...oh, no I'm not," he said, waving a hand at Yahto. He lay back down with his legs in the butterfly position, hands behind his head.

He was barely listening to the conversation that Milo and Yahto were having; right now, he was thinking of his home and the customs--how at fifteen he was supposed to be at least six feet tall, he was supposed to have been to some sort of a war by the age of twenty, and, during all of that, he was supposed to have claimed his...personal stances. Of course, he didn't believe in any of it and was laughed out of his village, thanks to his confused older brother.

He snorted before he knew what he was doing and looked fell from his thoughts, turning his head to look at Milo. I bet he didn't have to deal with any idiotic customs like that, he pondered. Doesn't pressured by a darn thing. Lucky dog.

[Anonymous]

Milo's religious beliefs were ingrained in his life, and were as necessary to him as breathing and eating. More so, even, than the latter. Demons, in his culture, were not red, horned things with pitchforks and pointy tails, but rather mortal men who had blasphemed and turned completely away from their god.

However, given the comment made earlier by Baile, about strangers being demons, he began to wonder if perhaps he was misunderstanding the word as it was being used in the Common language.

"I suspect that you and I," he said to Yahto, "have very different definitions of demons. In my village, a woman who is the lover of a demon is in danger of being eaten by him."

He shifted to a crouching position, one that brought him to a better level for eye-contact with the woman. "A demon, to us, is one man who has eaten of the flesh of another. A cannibal. He has come by unholy abilities by doing this - twice the strength of other men, twice the cunning. Twice the stamina. The evil in his nature increases because he becomes arrogant with his ill-gotten gains."

As he spoke, he naturally fell into the role of a storyteller - he was no longer giving Yahto the definition of a demon, but weaving a tale for her. He was creating, from firelight and shadows, a story of what happened behind the closed doors in his village, while honest men slept.

"He then calls himself a god, and turns away from our creator. The first to notice the change may be someone close - a wife, a child. Most often, though, they close their eyes to it, and the demon is allowed to continue in his way. Many people die strange deaths, or simply disappear."

He spread his hands, palms up, to show they were empty, as though emphasizing his words.

"Yes, Yahto. A demon lover is a very bad thing."

[Anonymous]

She could only return to him a smile, because her feeling of loss was nonexistant. She took lovers, and held people who meant nothing to her close. Yahto felt detached from the world around her, and did nothing to attach herself. She preferred her careless, spectactor position, where she could watch without involvement and occasionally participate to fully 'enjoy' life. Of course, she went through all the motions of caring, and a few she had come to care for, and those she protected with her life - she was not immune, she just had resistance. It took more than a smile and kind words and spending some time together to properly place someone within her heart.

"He was a good man," she commented off-handly, more as an after thought. She felt that she should attempt to defend him since she had done nothing to make his life more peaceful.

However, she listened with the inquisitiveness that could be easily compared with a child or curious dog. But the grin generally did not fade as she listened. A cannibal, to her, was simply just that - a man who ate other people. That fact did not bother her, simply because she didn't see why a person could not be eaten. After all, weren't they essentially the same as any other animal?

"I see. Your demons are like that, huh?" she said, puffing on her cigar leisurely - she wasn't surprised nor disturbed, hardly even caring.

"Don't know how to explain how this man was. He took whatever guise he wanted, and there was all kinds of his types. He had powers, gifts, magic.. I suppose he dealt with the devil, or whatever darker stuff there is out there. Never cared, really, what he was," Yahto told them honestly, flicking the cigar into the fire and blowing out the smoke.

"As I said, he was a good enough man. He didn't do anything worse than a mortal man," she added, knowing full well her ex-lover had not been a saint. But he hadn't seemed any worse than what she'd seen of mortal men, so she wouldn't call him evil or mean or even bad.

"In my case, being a demon's lover was especially good," she told Milo with a smirk, leaning backwards until she fell onto her rear than her back, staring up and then scooting across the ground away from the fire so she could stretch out her legs. No need to set herself on fire this fine day.

[Anonymous]

Their talk about demons and lovers hit two very sensitive areas of failure in his life that caused him grief. He groaned and pinched the bridge of his cute button nose. "Oh, come off it already." Baile took a moment to forget the past and sighed as the memories of his neighbors sending "friends" to his house in the dead of night and visions of the horrible demon that actually ruled their town stalking his porch during the dreaded holiday called Twilight.

He squinted his eyes quickly before finally pulling his fingers away from the bridge of his nose. Opening his eyes, Baile saw the flicker of something a light gray zip away from the fire that was now snapping at the base of a tall elm tree. Baile sniffed the air and shook his head, smiling--his friend, a merchant's daughter, had been following the pyromaniac around for a few months now, wanting the adventure that he was searching for.

Baile turned back to his two newly found friends and arched a brow. "So where are you two headed anyway? Got anything planned out?" Because he sure did. He reaced down into his shorts' cargo pockets and touched the small brass statue made in his town's ruler's likeness as he waited for them to answer.

[Anonymous]

Milo started to reply to Yahto's comment, but was cut short at his male companion's outburst. He deliberated a moment as to whether he ought to continue - after all, this was an opportunity to learn about another culture; women who made lovers of demons? Why not? She smoked cigars. Anything was possible.

However, he decided for the sake of peace to hold his tongue. Night was no time for serious talk of demons, anyway. That was something best kept waiting until daylight,  when those more knowledgable on the subject were present to offer guidance. He certainly didn't know any better than Yahto or Baile on the subject of demons in this realm.

When Baile questioned their respoective agendas, Milo shook his head in the negative. "I'm not headed anywhere in particular. I suppose that's a good thing, if you take into consideration the fact that I have absolutely no idea where I am."

He almost smiled at the thought. I don't know where I am, I don't know where I'm going, and I barely know where I've been. What a mess.

[Anonymous]

Baile didn't seem to appreciate her and Milo's conversation, for whatever reason. She had glanced at him, raising her head slightly from the ground to peer at him thoughtfully for a moment before dropping her head back to the ground, making a slight noise as her head caught the edge of a buried rock. She had to consider these people carefully - what were they to her, right that moment? Could she call them friends? Honestly, she was like this to everyone. She revealed parts of herself people probably would never want to know, and she did it shamelessly and with a grin. It wasn't that she wanted attention, it's just what else was she going to talk about? Certainly not her boring adventures... and if she knew more about that person, she'd inquire about them, but when you first meet a person, you're knowledge of them is limited to their appearance. She supposed, whether she cared for them or not, she'd defend them. Yahto couldn't be concerned if it was out of obligation, concern, or good will. Or were those all the same thing?

"Arca, Milo the Great," she told him, a soft laugh tailing her words, adding 'the Great' in a good-natured jest.

"Ah? From here? I go... where ever I wind up. I haven't had a place to be for years," she told them, stretching her arms over her head, feeling the pull through her arms, shoulders, and slightly in her back.

"Where are you going?" Her head lifted slightly, eyes fixating on Baile, her lips quirked into a questioning smile, a brow lifting upwards just a little.

[Anonymous]

Baile raised his brow as Yahto threw the question back at him. He gripped the brass statue tighter; he had to ask someone about him. He could, anyhow--he wasn't in the Jenasis range anymore.

But then he remembered Milo had said to save demon talk for the morning. He let go of the statue and looked into the fire, turning red. There were many, many more things he could talk about other than that. "I'm going away from home for a while. I need to explore other customs for once." Without realizing it he started in on the town Jenasis. "Our customs are crazy--I couldn't take them anymore. I never fit any of them. Men like me have to be a certain height at fifteen, but I only made it to five feet, six inches; everyone, even children, have to go to war, but I never supported war, so I failed at that. And...and..." he blushed a deep red as his voice trailed off.

He looked around helplessly for a distraction to keep them from knowing one of the most important customs. He was even helpless enough to point out at nothing and say, "Look! A distraction!" But these peanuts were too smart; they already knew he was going to say something else.

((That...that last paragraph didn't come out quite right. ^-^;; ))

[Anonymous]

Milo listened with interest to Baile's rather revealing, albeit short, insight into his village's customs. Apparently, a good deal of expectations were placed on the men; Milo could sympathize. A little, anyway. Men were expected to become warriors in his home, and a poor warrior had little respect unless he proved himself capable of another exemplary trait. For Milo, it had been his desire to become a holy man. For others, it was superior craftsmanship or the ability to weild magic, were they descendants of a race that might have had such a talent.

"It's good to explore other customs," he said pensively. "That is exactly what I am doing. Exploring, learning about the people of this realm. Bettering myself along the way."

Though there were some odd factors to Baile's personality, Milo genuinely liked the man. He was good fireside company, and he seemed intelligent. There was that, and the fact that Milo's curiousity was piqued at the mention of Baile's village; the other man seemed easily deterred from speaking of it. More time might make a difference.  "Perhaps I might travel with you for a while. To the next town, at least. Arca, is it? If you could use the company, that is; I certainly could."