| Logs |
2012 March 05
| Neverneverwhere |
| Realms |
Retired
| Reality Fault |
General Info
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| Realms: Taps Logs |
Riding the Storm Out
The wind has been rising as night fell and the confrontation happened. People have been so caught up in the challenge and the fight that they had been holding hats and hoods on without thinking, and not really noticing the way clothes and fur are ruffling. Large, heavy drops of rain are hitting the ground and the occasional bystander here or there. Chanticleer doesn't quite keep his sword at the ready, but he is prepared; he's pretty sure Malachai is not so cold-hearted as to ignore the girl's plea. Some of Malachai's people, however... then again, they've been witness to someone bigger and badder than they even at their most wolfed-up.
Malachai seems to be starting to say something -- when there is a flash of lightning so bright that everything is thrown momentarily into sharp relief, and there's the shocking sound of a tree splintering somewhere off in the woods. The clap of thunder that follows is so close that people feel it in their hearts -- and then the heavens simply open up. Instantly the caravaneers turn, exclaiming or swearing and laughing together, running for the wagons. Suraksha mutters, "Botheration!" then puts a hand on the shoulders of the two children before her, "Dearlings, go help Auntie Natalya get the laundry down, please?" The two go scampering off, giggling and shrieking together, and Alg grins, fangs bared in a grin as he growls to his lady, "Alg's pack keep watch!" before he too darts off.
From within the wagon circle Del shouts, "Rattler! Hand with'a horses, guy!" Rattler laughs, neatly scooping up Rishima and handing her to Suraksha as they share a kiss over the small child -- then the man runs off before Malachai can really react. Suraksha is already hastening away as well, though she whirls just long enough to shout to the townies, "We're going to cover over the wagon circle! You're welcome to stay and be dry if you want -- it'll be quicker than running back to town, I think!" She doesn't wait to see what the townsfolk do, though -- she's off instantly to help out wherever she's needed, murmuring to Shima in her arms, "Can you prep our wagon for the arrival of a lot of very wet people, sweetheart?" Her wagon is within the wagon circle and out of sight of the townsfolk; the small child nods solemnly as she's set on the porch. She watches her mother run off, then smiles and walks inside the brightly painted wagon.
Rattler lopes off to help with the horses. He's good with them and has tried to make himself indispensable to Del, since it gives him a lot of time with them. All over the caravan people are pulling out tarps and starting to gather in livestock, and Sabrina and Suze start discreetly herding the townies to a relatively dry and out-of-the-way spot. Chanticleer moves swiftly as the caravan battens down for the evening, giving instructions for the guards to pull in a bit -- and, quietly, to remain somewhat alert for the time being. He also makes sure hot coffee and such is available for the guards, since the only thing worse than long guard duty while on-edge is long guard duty while on-edge, cold, and wet.
To the slightly bewildered, milling townsfolk, the scene is one of controlled chaos: children dragging baskets help some of the smaller or slenderer adults to hastily take down the laundry, or go scampering after something the wind is trying to steal; agile and light-footed people nearly dancing over the tops of the wagons as they shake out and start to tie down several huge and overlapping tarps, which are whipping and cracking in the wind; the elephant and Ohkwa, the burly wagonmaster, working together to carefully and adroitly nudge wagons firmly into place, and shoving a tall pole into place for a central tie-point on the tarps; whinnying horses and lowing oxen being hastily urged under the shelter of the tarps, or balking at the noise, nervously tossing their heads and making life difficult for their handlers; Buddy bellowing nearly incoherently for someone to shake a leg...
Suraksha, of course, is in the thick of things, keeping things organized and helping wherever she's needed. At one point the wind hauls up a tarp, ripping the rope painfully out of her hands. She swears, making a futile grab at it, then simply crouches preparatory to leaping -- she needs to get that rope before it whips across someone! Just as she leaps, someone's hands close about her waist, giving her an extra boost upward -- and making her soggy tunic slide up a little so the hands are on bare skin. Suraksha gives a gasp of relief she snags the rope, "Gotcha, you pesky thing!" She hastily starts tying it off to the main pole, briskly calling down to her assistant, "Set me on your shoulder and stand by the center pole, please, so I can get a bunch of the ropes!"
'Chana's assistant shifts her easily to sit on his shoulders, broad hands bracing her thighs as they move over to the central pole. Suraksha reflexively curls her small, bare feet to brace about the broad torso of her assistant, then finishes the first tie-down. She waves energetically and shouts to the folks doing tie-downs on the other ends of the tarps, from up on the wagons, "Throw the other ends here -- I got 'em!" There's some startled expressions through the lightning- and torch-lit rain, followed by a bit of amused laughter, but the caravaneers are all pragmatists at heart: one by one the still-loose ropes are tossed to Suraksha.
Without being asked, Rachel moves in to help Chanticleer with the distribution of coffee. She keeps peeking over at him, trying not to actually stare. She does a horrible job of not staring, but a good job of helping with the coffee; she's used to helping provide for a large group of people, after all. Buddy snorts almost explosively right over Rachel's head at one point, neatly catching a small bag out of the air as the wind starts to lift it away -- from right in front of the girl, "Pay attention to what you're doing, woman!"
Rachel blinks up at the enormous cook and blushes, ducking her head and murmuring that she'll do better. The murmur is mostly lost in the noise of the sudden storm, but Buddy's already moved on, so it wouldn't have mattered much anyway. A slender child giggles and pats Rachel's hip, shouting to be heard over the rain, "Buddy yells at everyone he likes, lady -- don't feel bad!" He and several other children are now collecting bowls and mugs, darting over with them to where the big cook is apparently adding to the big cauldron of chili he'd started earlier, preparing to feed everyone there.
Chanticleer smiles warmly to Rachel, not terribly offended by the staring; he had odder when he first started in Baton Rouge, if not outright hostility there. "Thank you," he says to her as she helps with the large pot of coffee; once the sidhe saw that many of the townsfolk were staying, he'd put some extra on. Once it is all done, he pours a mug each for both her and himself. "Buddy is very protective of the caravan and its things," he explains to her. "On the road, we can't afford to lose anything -- we might be weeks from the nearest city, and it could be six months to a year before we pass by the same place again, so anything lost may as well be gone forever."
Rachel nods and takes the coffee mug gratefully, holding it between hands that are chilled from the sudden rain. The improvised big-top has gone up with astonishing speed and there are just a few drips and drops of rain through some of the seams. She smiles a little at Chanti, carefully not showing her teeth, "It's good to be careful and protective like that. Waste not, want not, we say."
With the swift ease of long experience Suraksha neatly whips all the ropes into secure knots about the upright pole, giving one last yank on the final one and muttering a relieved, "Whew! No disasters yet." She laughs softly to herself, then lightly pats the wet silver hair on top of her helper's head, "Fantastic job -- thanks so much! Down now, please?" The bonfire in the middle of the wagon circle hisses and spits occasionally as droplets of rain get through, but on the whole the careful tying and layering of the tarps is both keeping the thundering rain out, and allowing the smoke to escape.
The steady hands that had been holding her lift 'Chana down with more delicacy than would be normal, seeming almost reluctant to let go as they slip over her rain-damp thighs and hips. Suraksha raises an amused eyebrow and laughs softly as she turns -- she's so going to tease whomever copped such a feel on her! She pauses and blinks instead, though, looking up at her assistant: Malachai. She smiles a bit bemusedly up at him, "Malachai? What... well, thank you, dear." She whirls at the sound of an upset bovine bellow followed by several people shouting together over the thunder of the rain, then darts off to help with the livestock. Her wet tunic and hair are plastered revealingly to her now-curvy body as she calls over her shoulder, "Feel free to take care of your people, Malachai, so you don't worry about each other!" Seconds later she's helping organize the group dealing with a yoke of oxen, where one has slid and fallen in the mud and is dragging the other down.
The big top goes up with the speed of long practice; the caravan has been caught in more than one storm, after all. All over the caravan stools and wooden chairs and simple hunks of logs are being arranged near the fire. There's not exactly a pattern to the scatter of seats, but the overall arrangement is roughly circular. Chanticleer nods to Rachel's comment, taking a sip of the coffee. "It's very much that way, yes." Then he finds himself in the unusual (for him) situation of not knowing what to say. He smiles reassuringly. "I take it there aren't many sidhe who come by this way?"
Rachel laughs nervously and says, "No one comes here. He's or she's." She licks her lips and her eyes narrow a little bit in worry, "I thought you were a man?"
Chanticleer takes in a slow breath. "There are a lot of places," he says carefully, "where my not being human will mean harassment, violence... even death. And not only for me -- if it was just a matter of clobbering anyone who tried to hurt me, well... I am no stranger to fighting if need be. But I am not the only non-human person in the caravan, and if one of us were discovered, the rest could or even would be. So those of us who can, glamour ourselves to protect ourselves and others in the caravan."
Rachel is turning her cup around and around in her hands and nods, her smile touching the corners of her mouth, "We have no problems with not being fully human here. But I thought you were male? You just asked if we didn't have many she's here?"
Chanticleer blinks, then chuckles as he realizes she misunderstood 'sidhe' and he didn't get it. "I'm sorry... 'sidhe,' as in 'fey' or 'fairy.' I am male, though. At least from what I've been told...." Malachai is moving toward his people, counting heads and asking if everyone got under cover. A few of the townies have broken away from the group. Meshek is with them and Malachai takes him by the elbow, pulling him apart slightly to talk quietly and intently with him. The town's smith goes to help with the oxen; he's probably the most muscle-bound of the townsfolk.
Rachel's face colors pink as she realizes she's misunderstood what Chanti was saying, but she also relaxes a little as it is explained. "I've heard of faeries. Even here we have stories that aren't out of the Book." Her eyes are tracking over the sidhe's unusual features with an almost calculating look.
Chanticleer tilts his head to the side. "The Book?" he asks curiously.
Eventually everyone is safely under shelter, and Suraksha thanks the big blacksmith with relief once the muddy but undamaged oxen are safely tucked in with the other livestock at one end of the now-enlarged wagon-circle tent. The big elephant has a huge blanket buckled on around her body, and she and all the livestock are settled for the night on a thick bed of straw under the tarps, walled in comfortably by the wagons and the dancing campfire. Oksana and Del and a few of the other roustabouts are just finishing scattering out the last of the straw bale, and checking all the ropes are secure. The two women will be curling up with the animals to sleep -- between horses, oxen, elephants, and non-patrolling dogs, it will be quite snug and warm!
Suraksha glances around alertly, doing a final headcount... then sighs and relaxes, grinning up at her godsmother as Sna'tha drops to the ground next to her, "All present and accounted for, Sura." The small woman nods, thinking for a moment, then turns to the blacksmith, offering her hand and smiling, "I'm so sorry; I never got your name, good sir. Your help was invaluable! You can call me Sura, please?" She has no idea just how... striking she looks at this moment, even bedraggled and sopping wet. Her slender form is sharply outlined by her soggy, clinging tunic, while her jet-black hair is plastered to her body and highlighted with scarlet by the dancing firelight.
Samson takes her hand carefully, and shakes it as if he's had to be very careful shaking hands in the past, "Samson, ma'am. We should always help when we can, and those poor beasts needed help."
Suraksha smiles up at him warmly, "Thank you again, then, Samson, and I couldn't agree more. May I ask a favor of you, please? Could you point out to me the wolf that I was so rude to earlier this morning? Also the young person who I snapped at then? I really owe them both an apology for that -- it's not their fault I was so worried about Alg, after all." She chuckles as she adds, "And then perhaps Sna'tha here can introduce you to Ohkwa and Buddy -- I think you'd get along fine with them both!" She grins at the sidhe woman, carefully not giving away the fact that Sna'tha has yet to drop her glamour.
Samson says, "I wasn't there this morning, ma'am. I couldn't say, but most all of the pack is over with Malachai. I'd be honored to meet some more of your folks."
The tall, very slender woman snorts once, murmuring with her usual acerbic charm, "Don't think this will let you get away with catching your death of cold, child! If I come back from introductions and you're not in your wagon and getting warm and dry... I'll march you over there by an ear!"
Suraksha nods to Samson, then laughs at Sna'tha's comment. Not being a wolf, it doesn't occur to her to see this as a challenge to pack hierarchy -- she simply grins and darts off towards where the wolf-and-townie pack is, calling over her shoulder, "Yes'm!"
Elsewhere, Rachel nods and gulps at her coffee, wincing a little as she scalds her tongue a bit, "The Book. It's a holy book. Tells us how to live. A lot of it comes from another book, but a lot of that was written for people that were just people. Malachai teaches it to the young ones during the day."
Chanticleer's internal alarms start going off; very frequently the people who've gone after him with torches and iron pitchforks have done so because they said a book told them to, and more often than not they verbally capitalized the word 'Book' too. He's mildly comforted, though, by the fact that this is, after all, a pack of werewolves living with a group of humans in relative harmony and collaboration; those sorts of groups tend not to be very exclusionary. Still, this is a curious turn of events. "What's in the book?" he asks.
Rachel blows out a breath, "Hoo. Well, it says a lot. Love your neighbor as yourself. Don't covet. Honor the spark of the Divine Light in everyone. Rules about taking care of each other, mostly -- and on being respectful."
Chanticleer starts to relax a little, thinking to himself, [That doesn't sound too bad at all.] He smiles. "So I have to ask, then: what stories have you heard of faeries? I promise to be more than happy to confirm or deny."
Elsewhere, Suraksha slows to a walk to approach the clustered townsfolk, unsure as to her reception and wanting to give them time to react to her. She's not sure if she's welcome or not, after all, at this point -- or simply too scary to be around. Rattler slips up behind 'Chana and drapes a blanket over her shoulders before kissing her temple. He's grinning, "Rishi tole me t'bring this to ya."
Suraksha smiles up at Rattler, her wary expression warming into affection, "Thank you, sweetheart. Can you tell her I'll be there in... oh, about five or ten minutes, please?" She grins a bit sheepishly, "Sna'tha told me I need to go dry off and warm up before she drags me off and stuffs me into my wagon herself! But I have one quick check-up to do before then... on Meshek."
Rattler arches a brow, smirking, "Yeah. Fantine said somethin' of the sort too. See y'all back there?"
Suraksha beams at that, her eyes lighting up, "Oh, hope so!" She giggles and stands on tiptoe, holding the blanket with one small hand, to hug Rattler about the neck -- then she releases and sighs, smiling, "Hope Fanny's making hot chocolate -- I would adore a mug of that! I'll be there soon." Sabrina and Suze are coaxing the townies over toward the fire where they can dry off. The caravaneers who aren't already busy or exhausted are bringing extra blankets and hot food and drink to the townies, helping Sabrina and Suze to get them calmed down, dried off, warmed up, and fed. Meshek and Malachai are both still talking tensely together in the shadow of one of the wagons, though, so Suraksha sighs again, then turns and determinedly heads towards the two men.
The townies that see Suraksha passing by glance up at her, offering quick, close-mouthed smiles as they hastily look away again, unless she approaches them directly. The few that are in wolf form are scattered here and there amongst the human-formed ones, getting themselves dried out near the fire. Suraksha coughs politely as she approaches Malachai and Meshek, then smiles, "Pardon me; may I approach for a moment, please?" She finds it curious that not a one of the townies has met her eyes yet. She gets the feeling they're still being cautious around her -- like they're not yet sure how to treat her.
Malachai glances up from the conversation at her comment; his face looks positively thunderous for a moment, but then the features smooth out. One of his hands is closed around Meshek's biceps, and the grip looks quite firm. Meshek himself is looking down and away from both his alpha and the tiny woman, scowling -- on someone smaller or less muscular it might look like a pout. He's also trembling as if trying not to cringe. Suraksha tilts her head curiously, waiting silently for at least one of them to reply to her query. She's not precisely sure how wolf body language works, so she's depending on the spoken word for more delicate issues... like this one. Malachai takes a deep breath, as if bringing himself back to earth, and says, "Of course. This one promises not to disgrace himself again. Don't you?" There's an edge to the last question, making it sound more like "if he knows what's good for him."
Suraksha smiles slowly, stepping forward just a bit more; holding the big blanket wrapped around herself, with her dark, wet hair still sleeked flat against her head, she could easily pass as a tall child. To Malachai she murmurs, "Thank you." To Meshek she simply says, "I pulled a fast one on you, Meshek, and for that I apologize." She waits to see his reaction -- she's quite curious as to how he'll take that, especially since she has one more thing to say.
Meshek nods, still looking sullen and not raising his eyes, and only grunts in reply. He doesn't actually say anything about forgiving her until Malachai's hand tightens on his arm. The young wolf grimaces and growls, "No need to apologize." He seems to be ready to stop again, but Malachai makes a noise deep in his throat and Meshek goes on, "It was not my place to challenge." He doesn't seem to like saying this.
Suraksha says gently, "Malachai, I'd really love to know what Meshek thinks, please?" She smiles as she adds, "Rather than what you'd like him to say?"
Malachai's lips thin, and he says, "He is saying what is proper and true." Meshek's nostrils flare at that; if he had a tail it would be lashing. Suraksha thoughtfully checks Meshek's chakras at the statement. She sees his chakras are as intensely bright as the other wolf-natured townies, but his Will chakra and his Root chakra are both blazing more brightly than normal. He's working hard on controlling something. Suraksha suspects it's his temper and maybe his change -- although she is a bit surprised he's this arrogant still, before his alpha and someone who he's very publicly submitted to less than an hour ago.
The small woman says softly, "It is proper, yes," then turns her bright-golden-eyed gaze to the young wolf, "I do have one other thing to say, Meshek, which I hope you will take to heart." She smiles sweetly, her slightly sharp canines glinting at him just as he did to her earlier, and for an instant her eyes flash scarlet. "I am not a wolf; I do not fight like wolves do, and I do not have a hierarchy or ranking like you do. So please believe me when I say first that you are not ready to challenge Malachai, and until you think of the pack's well-being before your own you never will be. Second," her smile, if anything, grows wider, and her eyes colder, "if you ever, ever try that sort of back-stabbing gossip-whispering bullshit on me or anyone in my caravan, instead of being honest enough to declare challenge fairly and true... I will personally claw your sorry pelt right off your body!" She stares fiercely at the young wolf, internally hoping this is enough to keep him from trying anything this moronic again, "Do we understand each other?"
Meshek's chakras flare once more; his hands clench at his sides, nostrils flaring as he stares hard at the ground for a moment or two more, apparently not trusting himself to speak yet. When he does speak, his jaws are clenched, "I hear and understand. It will not be a problem." Malachai is watching the young wolf closely, eyes narrowed. He's known Meshek's impatience for a while and has not wanted to have to beat it out of the boy himself.
Suraksha nods and smiles again, "Excellent. Thank you both for your patience. Will you excuse me, please?" She nods pleasantly to them both, then turns and heads briskly toward where her people and the townies are starting to slowly mingle, chat, and eat together. She finds herself wondering, though: what was Meshek working so hard to control?
Elsewhere, Rachel is starting to relax herself as well, "Well, we've heard the one about rainbows and pots of gold, and we've heard about the dark-elves that live under the ground and work with metal."
Chanticleer can't help but chuckle softly. "While there are leprechauns, thy don't keep their gold at the end of rainbows." [Security failure just waiting to happen], is on the tip of his tongue. "The dark elves, now... there's some truth of them: the drokkalfar. I don't think they live in the earth per se, though." He absolutely does not go into greater detail about the Unseelie, of whom the drokkalfar are -- normally -- a part. There's no need to corrupt her mind with the decadent temptations and unsettling pastimes that are the Unseelie courts. Then again, he rebukes himself, the Seelie Courts weren't exactly much better in those regards. They'd just be more likely to assassinate your character rather than your person. To hear them talk, that was worse... and from what Chanti saw, sometimes it certainly was.
Rachel nods slowly and actually smiles as Chanti uses the word drokkalfar. It's more familiar to her than the English terms, "And there's the story of Tom Lane that the fairy queen stole."
Chanticleer blinks, then laughs quietly. "Tamurlane is how he's also known as -- or Tamur the Lame. I'll be honest: that story predates the Event. It's hard to say if it actually happened or not." He smiles apologetically. "Sometimes we don't even know our own history." [The gossips at the Courts prefer indelible records of who slept with whom and who stabbed whom. In our orisons, be all your sins remembered! -and all that.]
Rachel nods, eyes brightening a little. She's leaning in toward Chanticleer, voice breathy like a child learning that Santa Claus might actually be real, "Are you the same kind of fairy as the fairy queen? Can you make things change shape?" There's a kind of longing in her voice.
Chanticleer smiles a touch sadly, "Unfortunately no, I can't. I'm not nearly close to the power of the nobles. I was at best a functionary." Better to not reveal too much even to her, even in this out-of-the-way place. She doesn't need to know he was a knight.
Rachel wilts a little bit and takes a sip of her coffee to cover it, then reaches out and briefly touches Chanti's knee, "But you can change your own shape. I saw that. It must be wonderful. I only got to change at my coming-of-age. I'm not one of the Blessed."
Chanticleer does not shy from the touch. "It's not really the same, though," he admits. "Glamour is a trick of the light, a slight of sight. It isn't as complete as the change you can do."
Rachel's fingers stroke Chanti's knee very briefly, up along the inner line of his thigh for an inch or two before she takes her hand back, shaking her head, "I can only change with one of the pelts and the drink -- like we gave Sulochana when she stayed with Nonnu. I can't even make myself look like a wolf otherwise."
Chanticleer smiles and touches her hand. "That's more than I can do, Rachel. What does it feel like when you do that?"
Rachel takes a deep breath and shivers rapturously, as if remembering something ecstatic, "It's wonderful!" She whispers, voice dreamy, "You can smell just everything and hearing... it's like you can hear the world breathing. Hear its heartbeat. Like you can actually see the spark in everyone -- and you can run so fast!" Chanticleer smiles quietly, watching the effect reminiscing has on her. He remains quiet, letting her speak at her own pace. Rachel's voice holds naked longing, "I had really hoped I was one of the changing ones, but I stayed just plain old me the next moon." She laughs self-consciously, "I cried for days. Nonnu told me I was being extremely silly."
Chanticleer gently takes Rachel's hand. "You can still change, though, yes? Experience that again, with the help of the... of the pelt and the drink?"
Rachel lets Chanti takes her hand and flushes a little bit -- a happy flush this time, as she squeezes his hand back, "I could, but we usually don't after the first time. The herbs for the drink are hard to come by and there are only three of the pelts. Besides, there would be such fighting over who got to change each time!" She shrugs, smiling lopsidedly and running her thumb over Chanti's hand, "But it's possible I could have a baby that could change. That would be almost as good."
Chanticleer smiles quietly to her. "I can't ever know what it's like to feel that," he says. "I can make myself look human, or look different, or change the way the light reflects off of me. I can make myself look like a man-wolf, but I'll never have the experience of senses and what it's like to be such a creature."
Rachel chews on her bottom lip and glances to either side, wanting to make sure she can't be overheard as she scoots a little closer to Chanticleer, "Would you... I mean... can your kind... can faeries breed with other kinds of people?"
Chanticleer considers it carefully. "It's... very rare," he says gently. "It seems to be a little more possible with fey and Tap couples. But... on the whole it's not at all common." His mind is a bit awhirl; this isn't something he can apologize for, but Rachel will surely not be glad to hear such news.
Rachel's tongue flicks out to wet her lips, "But maybe... since we're not completely human, it might work?" Her eyes are wide and hopeful and she reaches out to touch Chanti's leg again, fingers brushing up the outside of his thigh, "I know it's not a certainty, but no birth here is. We... it's not easy for us to breed."
Chanticleer thinks long and hard about this. He does want to help the Friendlies, and this does mean much to her... but he isn't as flighty as his kin. Well, yes, he can be as flighty as them, but this... "Rachel," he says quietly. "You have a good family here, a warm and loving community. I know that they would support you in anything. My family, my community, my heart and my hearth, is with the caravan." He gently takes her hand. "I would be glad and pleased to be able to help give you what you want. I just cannot leave the caravan."
Rachel wraps both her hands around Chanti's as she chews on her bottom lip, looking up and around the circle of the caravan. Color is high in her cheeks and she starts to speak, then pauses again to catch her breath before finally speaking, "You think I ask you to be my lifemate? To cleave to me?"
Chanticleer blushes a little. "To be honest," he says a touch lamely, "well, yes. That is, as a part of it. Granted, thinking it over in hindsight, it does sound a touch arrogant of me, doesn't it?"
Rachel blushes deeper, glad that the light is low to hide some of it, "It would not be something I would be sad to have happen..." Her thumbs brush over Chanti's hands and she forges on, "But if you would not be parted from your family, I would still ask your... favors... before you leave." The girl looks around again, breathing starting to pick up, "I would not be the first lass here who had pups not of her husband. As I said, it is hard for us. Many children die. Sometimes a different father is needed for the line to be strong."
Chanticleer smiles quietly and nods. "I cannot promise anything. Even with most humans it does not happen easily or frequently. I would be glad to help give you that, Rachael."
Rachel curls both her lips into her mouth, biting them briefly as she thinks -- then she darts her head in to try and kiss Chanti on the corner of the mouth, eyes shining, "Then you'll... you'd help me try?"
Chanticleer nods, smiling sheepishly. "I'm sorry, I should have been more plain-speaking. Yes. I will." Rachel doesn't squeal, but she does fling herself at Chanti, wrapping her arms around him to hug him tightly. If he stays still for it she ends up in his lap, still holding tightly to him. Chanticleer yelps a bit as he catches her, and does manage to stay steady as she curls up on him. He laughs quietly. "I'm glad you approve?" he says cheerfully. From around them there's some laughter and even playful applause, mostly from the caravaneers.
Rachel's breathing and heart rate have both sped up and she presses her face against the side of Chanticleer's neck, "Oh, bless you." The words are followed by several kisses along the line of his neck.
Chanticleer blinks in surprise at the applause; he hadn't realized it was that obvious. But he smiles regardless, hugging her warmly back. "You're welcome," he whispers quietly. The folks around weren't privy to the actual conversation, but the way the pair of them were leaning together was obvious to those that have an eye for such things. Rachel is laughing and blushing a little as she realizes that she was seen to literally throw herself at Chanticleer.
Once Chanticleer has agreed, Rachel is quite eager to get him somewhere alone, though she tries to wait until she's fairly certain a bare number of people will see. She's a little bashful about doing this, but is quite eager once alone with the sidhe. The girl asks him to stay in his true form and seems to quite enjoy the differences in him as compared to the boys and men she knows. The fact that she's quite inexperienced is something she tries to downplay, but she is an enthusiastic student. Chanticleer enjoys the time with Rachel. While perhaps not the best of teachers, he is more than happy to help Rachael find out what she enjoys most. He also dearly hopes, for her sake, that in the process of doing so she manages to conceive the child she so hopes for.
Earlier and elsewhere, Malachai stays behind with Meshek a moment longer. When the elder moves toward the firelight, Meshek moves away from it-- back toward town, in the rain. Malachai does the closest thing he can to a trot without seeming to actually hurry, trying to catch up to 'Chana. She's already focusing on the closest townie, smiling and reaching out to lightly touch the man on the back so she doesn't surprise him, "Pardon me; could I ask a favor of you, please?"
The young man jumps a little when she touches him, despite the gentleness of it. He glances up quickly at her face and then away again, eyes wide and expression somewhat awed, "Of course you may, ma'am." He looks like he's perhaps seventeen; she recognizes him vaguely from the night of the hunt.
Suraksha says, "Thank you! I have an apology to make to two of your fellow townsfolk, and I was hoping you could point me to them." She smiles ruefully, adding, "Can you help me find the wolf I snapped at this morning, and the young person I was rude to, please?"
The young man nods and says, "The young man is Nathaniel, but he's not with us tonight. He stayed back. The wolf..." He uses his chin to point at a ruddy-coated wolf that's lolling close to the fire "Rufus. He's there."
Suraksha sighs softly, then smiles at the man, "Thank you so much, then. I'll just have to go speak to Nathaniel later, I suppose." She mentally crosses her fingers that she'll still be welcome in the town by tomorrow... then puts her shoulders back and determinedly heads over to the wolf. She crouches next to him, neatly tucking her blanket under herself and smiling at the wolf, "Hello there. Rufus, yes?" She isn't yet aware that Malachai was trotting after her.
Rufus starts to roll to his feet, but once 'Chana crouches he stays down on his belly, carefully not looking into her eyes and keeping his head lower than hers. His tail is neatly tucked between his legs. From behind Suraksha Malachai's voice rumbles, "Yes, he's Rufus."
Suraksha blinks startledly up over her shoulder at Malachai... then grins ruefully up at him, "Yes, I know -- a nice young man pointed him out to me." She starts to turn back to the wolf, then blinks and looks over her shoulder again, glancing around, "Er... where'd Meshek go?"
Malachai does not smile as he says, "He has gone back to town. I gave him a choice: stay here and be polite, or go home. I would not have him here disrespecting someone else's territory. He chose home."
Suraksha looks puzzled, but then remembers her manners, "Ahh... right. Will you excuse me just a moment, please?" She turns back to Rufus and holds out a hand towards the wolf, careful not to touch him without his permission, "Rufus, I owe you an apology. I was worried about Alg this morning, and I took that anger out on you. I am sorry I snapped at you; you certainly did not deserve it."
Rufus isn't quite cringing, but he has to stay low to stay under Suraksha. He perks his ears as she speaks, then looks at her hand and carefully stretches out his head to lap at her fingers. Malachai translates, "That means he forgives you."
Suraksha sighs in relief and smiles at the young wolf, then carefully kneels next to him and -- unless he pulls away -- reaches to hug him, "Thank you so much, dear! I appreciate your generosity." Rufus looks somewhat startled, but he lets 'Chana hug him. He stays very, very still -- except his tail, which uncurls and flags back and forth a time or two in pleasure. Being singled out for this sort of affection by the alpha is a good thing! Rufus is usually pretty far down the wolf hierarchy. Suraksha grins wryly as she sits back, although she leaves one hand resting in a friendly fashion on the thick pelt, "Umm... may I ask one favor, though? Could you, um... well, sit or stand normally when I'm around? I'm not used to wolf body language, so what it looks like to me is that you're expecting me to kick you or something!" She smiles a little sadly as she adds, "I'd like to think I'm not that horrible, you know?"
Malachai's lips twitch and he says, "It will be difficult for them. They view you as higher in the hierarchy than they are. It will be easier when they are in human form. Also, if you are standing they don't have to crouch."
Suraksha looks up at Malachai and sighs softly, internally... then simply nods. She pats Rufus' shoulder once, smiling a little sadly at him, then stands up, "I see. Well, thank you again, Rufus." To Malachai she says, "If you do not mind, I would like to come to town tomorrow and apologize to Nathaniel as well for snapping at him." Suraksha doesn't look at Rufus, hoping that will allow the poor wolf to loll comfortably again. She pauses, then adds a bit uncertainly, "So... what was it Meshek was working so hard to restrain in himself?"
Once she stands up, Rufus bounds to his feet, released from the necessity to keep his head quite so low. He bumps his head against 'Chana's thigh and lolls his tongue out at her, bouncing a little on his front legs. It's as clear as he can get in wolf-language that he likes her. Suraksha grins down at the wolf again despite her initial intention to not look; she can't resist affectionately ruffling his ears just like she does with Alg as she laughs softly, "Aren't you a cutie? Do you need a blanket to get dry with? Here, you can use mine, all right?" She slides it off her shoulders and drapes it over his, then straightens and smiles up at Malachai. She has no idea what an amazing gift she's made to Rufus: a blanket with the alpha bitch's scent on it. She's still in her wet tunic, but the warmth is starting to make it not be plastered quite so startlingly skintight all over her.
Malachai's eyes are kind as he looks down at the young, reddish wolf, and then he looks back to 'Chana. "Of course you are welcome in town." He doesn't add the part about his mate always being welcome, but it's there in his mind. He goes on to answer the other question, "His temper. His arrogance. His change. He gives in to his passions too easily."
There's a hint of relief in Suraksha's voice, "Thank you. So... er, if it is not rude of me to say so... why, ahh... I mean, surely Meshek realizes... well..." She trails off, uncertain as to how to politely ask why Malachai's young kinsman is such a flaming idiot!
Malachai smiles a close-lipped, wry smile, "He is still young and coming into his full strength. It sometimes makes us not think clearly." Suraksha hmms quietly at that, clearly still puzzled.
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