[PRP] Chance Meetings (Riordan x Charmeine)

[SilverLutz]

Winter was in full swing now with consistently cold temperatures and snow on the ground that was freshened up by a flurry or gentle snowfall here and there. It made a beautiful sight for sure, but for Riordan it was definitely his least favorite time of year. Hunting and foraging were much harder this time of year with many animals hibernating and lots of vegetation and fungi either dying or going dormant until spring. For Riordan's needs this wasn't ideal. His components needed to be fairly fresh for his magic to work its best.

His stock back home was dwindling a bit faster than he'd expected so he hoped that he could do one more trek into the woods to stock up a bit more on some of the plants and animals that still thrived during this time of year. Riordan knew that if he waited much longer his ingredients would run out and he'd be stuck until the snow melted. He had to do this now despite his distaste for the cold.

The colorful centaur had bundled himself up as best he could. An undershirt beneath a thick woolen sweater was doing a good job of keeping his torso warm while a scarf, fingerless gloves and a hat were doing the work for his extremities. He'd donned his usual satchel as well as a pair of saddle bags in hopes that he'd come across enough material to fill all three, though his hopes weren't very high. He'd been walking his usual route for almost an hour and he'd only managed a few treasures: some moss that had been sheltered in a thick grove of trees where the snow hadn't managed to blow just yet, some berries from a few snow covered bushes, a small bird that he'd found frozen in his path, and some paper-like bark off of the white trees that were somewhat hard to come by in this area.

Still, his bags were sadly empty and he needed more than the measly amount he'd gathered so far to fill his stocks back home. So on Riordan walked, leaving a trail of hoof prints behind him in the snow.

Uta

 

[Uta]

Winter had come to grip the island, and Charmeine had a love-hate relationship for the season. On the one hand, the grey clouds, the white snows, and the general dead-nature of the world fit with his usual bleak outlook and physical appearance. On the other hand, it was miserably cold, and finding fresh food was limited. He had some stores of food from the autumn harvest, but already he was tired of the smoked and dried meats, as well as the canned fruits and veg. He wanted something fresh.

...he also needed something fresh.

Not only would it please his appetite, but he'd found a particular ritual to the gods that required some bone and fresh meat. An offering, in a way, in hopes he might appease a few local, questionable spirits. To say he was intrigued in the darker side of the Chimereid Islands was an understatement. Perhaps he walked a dangerous path, but Charmeine couldn't help but be intrigued by all things occult. Magic, in particular, always caught his eye regardless the source -- but darker, shadier things were also of keen interest to the delicate male. Perhaps it was because they were less known, more secretive, and promised power that he would never, ever obtain.

So it was, bundled up in white furs, Charmeine picked his way through the foliage. He had found himself off-trail, trying to scare up some sort of game, and had rather turned himself around. He wasn't worried about it yet but he also didn't want to get caught out of doors when and if the weather were to turn. Winter was fickle like that, and he was no sky reader...

Fortune was in his favor when he caught sight of something blue and feathered through the pines. Hurrying forward, as quietly as he could, Charmeine tried to bridge the distance without spooking his possible prey -- but it was only when he caught better sight of the bird that he realized it was no bird at all!

It was a centaur, and a large one at that! He stopped in his tracks, disappointed it wasn't something he could try to snare, but also quite intrigued by the others appearance. Whoever he was was large, and quite feathered! From the large wings against his back, to the feathers sprouting out of his tail, Charmeine had never seen something quite like him. And such color! He felt very pale in comparison....

Well.

Shifting his stance, he averted his gaze and instead slipped out into the path behind Riordan, giving his tail a flick. He hesitated, unsure if he should speak up, or say hello. Charmeine was used to being alone, and for all he was studious and clever creature, he was rather awkward when it came to socializing.

Though he'd finally found a main path, he wasn't sure it was the one he needed to return to the village.

SilverLutz

So sorry for the delay!! The muses were fickle. Have an awkward Charmeine!

 

[SilverLutz]

Although Riordan was focused on his task at hand, he was ever cautious and had learned the hard way to keep his ears open if his eye was occupied and vice versa. The sound of hoof steps approaching in the snow was heard long before the other centaur joined him on the trail and although the blue stallion appeared oblivious, he was keenly aware that he was no longer alone. He wasn't too bothered by it, though. If it had been someone trying to harm him they surely wouldn't have made themselves known, even as subtle as the stranger was being.

Finally Riordan lifted his head and glanced behind him, making eye contact with the pale stranger. His companion was slender and smaller than him, and although most of his pelt, mane and tail were faded and blended in with the snow, a few darker spots stood out, namely his hands and his eyes. He looked a bit ghostly especially in the white furs he had wrapped around his torso. A little spooky, but Riordan was well-versed in spooky.

"Hullo," he said after he realized the other centaur wasn't going to initiate a conversation. "Can I help you?" Perhaps he was lost. He didn't look the type to trudge about in the forest in this sort of weather.

Uta

 

[Uta]

Charmeine looked up at the stranger when he spoke, allowing a small smile to cross his delicate features He was glad he hadn't startled him with his approach -- though his pride would have been wounded if he'd known Riordan had known he was there. "Well met, stranger" he spoke, shrugging into the furs the donned his shoulders.

Of course, he wasn't really sure what to say to the other. Did he confess he was trying to scare up some game? Did he casually mention he was perhaps a little bit lost? No, no... He would need to play it cool. Or at least, as cool as the socially awkward stallion could. He was wielding a few snares, and was equipped with a large knife. Nevermind that it was a ritual knife, it would blood let equally. "I had been tracking some game, or trying to, when I came upon the main road," he explained.

He wouldn't admit he'd hoped Riordan was some sort of bird. "My luck's been a bit lousy," he heard himself admit, and his nose crinkled. Not in annoyance at his lack of a kill, but because why on earth would he admit such a thing to a stranger?

Well, too late to take it back now.

SilverLutz

<3 Sorry for the short tag!

 

[SilverLutz]

Riordan noticed the snares that the other stallion was carrying as he mentioned game and he gave a little nod of understanding. This time of year was always slim pickings but it seemed the both of them were a bit short on luck today. Now that he knew he was dealing with a fellow hunter and not someone who'd lost their way, he took a few slow steps closer so they could speak at a softer volume. Didn't need to scare anything off that might be close.

"You and me both," he admitted, patting his nearly empty satchel. "Winter's hard for hunting and gathering, but there's usually more than there's been today. I suppose if you're having as much trouble as I am then it might be a good idea to call it a day before a storm rolls in and really makes the day terrible." He wasn't sure there would be a storm - the skies were clear for now - but with how the hunt had been going he wouldn't put it past some spirit to stir up a bit of winter mischief and get a blizzard howling through the trees.

"Where are you staying?" he asked, tilting his head just a bit. "My cabin isn't far from here if you'd like to warm up a bit before heading back. I'm Riordan, by the way," he added, shifting his satchel to sit a bit more on his hip before extending a hand to the other male. Though he spent most of his time alone, Riordan did enjoy company, especially that of like-minded people. Perhaps if this stallion was a hunter then he wouldn't mind the slightly strange decor in his cabin. His ritual room would not be a place he'd show his potential guest, but his front room would be warm and his kitchen accessible for a snack and beverages if he so desired.

Uta

Holy crap I didn't realize it was my post!

 

[Uta]

Charmeine gave a little smile at the stranger, pleased that the handsome stallion had as poor of luck as himself. He would have been quite put out had the stranger been strutting around with a full-fledged buck or a string of rabbits in his possession. "Misery loves company," he added with a little laugh. They had something in common now -- bad luck on the game trail. That was perhaps all they had in common, at least superficially.

Charmeine wasn't blind to their differences. Riordan was large, muscular, winged, and very bright in coloration. Charmeine was small, delicate, flightless, and very pale and monotone. Where his siblings had wings and feathers, he was more simple in design--but that suited him just fine. All the better to admire handsome strangers who possessed plenty of exotic looks.

At the mention of a storm, the pale stallion did glance up, brows knitting once again. Winter was always rough upon the islands -- some places were nothing but sun and warmth while others were a frozen wasteland. At the mention of a blizzard, a few thick snow flakes suddenly began to fall, as if the spirits were pleased to oblige. Great. A sudden gust of wind kicked up a small flurry, and he gave a little shake of his tail.

Great, he'd be stuck in a snow storm, he just knew it... but the stranger's comment caught him off guard and surprised him. A cabin in the woods? "I'd say aren't you worried about bringing strangers with knives home, but you look like the sort of centaur who can handle himself." This time his smile was genuine, his eyes bright with amusement. Dark humor was his style, and he was known to be a bit macabre. He had a little black heart that was fascinated with the occult, and the darker gods and spirits of the world.

"I actually resides on the outskirts of Hoofstone Village," he admitted. He was quite a ways away, having been desperate to find some game to scare up for his ritual. "...but if you wouldn't mind a little company, a break from the cold would do me well. " Giving a dip of his head, he committed the stallion's name to memory. Riordan. "Charmeine, a pleasure." And for once in his usually sarcastic and caustic life, it was.

SilverLutz

<3

 

[SilverLutz]

The smaller stallion's comment of misery loving company made Riordan give a soft huff of amusement. Indeed, it seemed they'd both come up a bit short on their hunts today and they could complain over a nice warm mug of cider or mulled wine to try to put their woes behind them.

His offer was accepted and a name was given, much to Riordan's relief. He'd hate to think of the slim stallion stepping through the deep snow all the way back to his home in the weather that was approaching. He usually didn't take strangers in but something about Charmeine was familiar in an odd way. His humor was a bit off-color but it still made Riordan give a little chuckle, the thought of Charmeine being able to do anything to him - even with knives - quite funny to think about.

"Depends on the stranger," he returned, feeling a bit more comfortable around his new companion now that he was starting to see a bit more of his personality. "And the knives, I suppose. But no, I wouldn't mind the company. Haven't had much of it lately, what with the weather." That and Riordan lived alone for a reason: his magic often turned people away from him. They were polite in town, of course, but rarely did someone ask him to the pub for a drink or to join them at the market.

"It's this way," he said, nodding down the path that he'd been walking. His hoof prints were deep enough that the snow shouldn't cover his tracks completely, but he knew the way regardless. He'd walked these woods for years now and knew each tree like the back of his hand.

"You certainly did walk quite the ways," Riordan commented after they'd trudged through the snow a bit, the flakes starting to fall at a faster clip now. As they landed on his wings his muscles instinctively shuddered, shaking them off of the more sensitive and less furred bits of his body. "To have gone so far and to see nothing surely means the spirits are at play. Perhaps we were fated to meet."

Uta