More proof of writing
Title: Braver
Rating: PG for off screen death
Pairings/Characters: no pairings, the characters aren't anyone you'd know.
Summary: A cold night in a poorly made building is made slightly better by the arrival of food.
Notes: The first scene of what was supposed to be my big bang but alas, I hit a block and stopped at 13K.
The wind cut through the sod walls of the house as if they simply didn't exist as barriers between what was inside and what was outside. The people housed in the hall all huddled together with little concern for who outranked whom, instead focusing on sharing the warmth. At the hearth in the centre of the room knelt a dark haired young man, fumbling with flint and twigs as he tried to light a fire despite the winds occasionally whooshing down the chimney. At his back a large curly haired hound sat, pressed against him, one ear turned toward him as he swore under his breath.
“Surely you could use help brother?” a female voice came just from the left. Eras didn't turn to look at his sister as she spoke, instead frowning down at his dry but so far useless kindling.
“And what would you suggest doing?” he asked her bitterly, “will you usher the winds away for us?”
“No need to be so irate, it was simply an offer.”
Still frowning he finally looked up, blue eyes narrowed. “It was a useless offer,” he told her and in return she threw up her hands, using one to push black locks from her face.
“Well then,” she replied, stalking away toward a group of men and women working to try and patch clothes together into warmed garments. Feeling slightly guilty Eras turned back to his self appointed task, resolving to apologize to Arinni once they had both had time to cool their tempers. As if it approved of his resolve, the flint sparked once again, this time lighting the kindling. Letting out an excited whoop Eras leaned forward, cupping cold hands around the new flame in a desperate bid to keep it going.
“Do we have fire?” one voice called from the now attentive crowd.
“Do we have fire, sir,” another voice stressed, obviously addressing the first speaker and not Esar himself.
“Yes we do,” he said, turning slightly so his voice would carry better, “and do not go to the bother of addressing me as sir.”
The men and women at his back shared various glances with each other at the last part, some nervous others worried, before a young man with blond hair offered a smile to Esar. “Good to hear about the fire,” he said easily, “now if only we had more then one purpose for it.”
“We have plenty of purposes for a fire Ferest,” Arinni's ire appeared to have dissipated rather rapidly, a smile back on her lovely, if gaunt, face. “You just never bother to ask how the clothes you insist on traipsing around outside in return to being dry.”
Ferest stood with a flourish at that, bowing low at the waist, looking very falsely forlorn. “My apologies Inni,” he said, his formal tone rendered completely insincere by the use of her childhood pet name. “To forget the work you put into ensuring our well fare,” he sighed as if disgusted with himself, “I should cast myself into the snow.”
Arinni rolled her eyes, fighting back a smile and trying not to look appreciative at his attempts to lighten the mood. “You are horrible,” she told him, “and for that you can join the washing tomorrow.” Ferest made a face at that but returned to sitting without any real complaint. As he sat he pulled a shivering little girl onto his lap, wrapping strong arms around her to help ward off the chill, letting her brother curl into his side. Their mother, already balancing three other children gave him a sincere, if tired, smile and gently rearranged those children still left clinging to her. The amusing little exchange done most people returned to similar duties, some trying to stretch their blankets to extend to just one more person others choosing to huddle so closely they shared tunics and overcoats.
Smiling bitterly at the scene Eras turned his back to it, stirring the fire enough to be able to add a log. Just as he did so the small door to the hall slammed open bring a gust of wind with it as well as a grinning black haired man.
“Close the door Thari,” Eras snapped, lunging to the side to block the fire from the wind, “we'll lose all the heat.”
Thari made no real move to do as instructed though he did stick his head out the door long enough to gesture for whoever was behind him to hurry. “No need to be so aggressive brother,” he told the other lightly, “I brought everyone a present after all. Two, actually.”
The onlookers, who had previously looked a little annoyed at the fact the door had been opened and then left open, perked up somewhat, peering around one another or tugging on each other's shoulders to get a better view. As if they'd been waiting for an appropriately dramatic four men and a woman stumbled in, all weighed down by the surprising, but very welcome, bodies off two large animals.
“Caribous,” a tall red haired man said, kicking the door shut behind him and easing the large animal off his shoulder. “Heavy caribous,” he added and the woman huffed in amusement.
“Heavy is what we want,” she reminded him, brushing snow out of her brown hair.
“Heavy will be what we want, while carrying them heavy caribous are bothersome.”
Esar smiled at the group of hunters, thankful of the bounty, but couldn't help but give the large bodies a troubled look. “Esar?” Thari asked, frown blooming across his features to match his brother's, “what is it?” Esar shook his head slightly, running an aggravated hand through jaw length hair, wincing as he tugged a knot. Taking the head shake as a signal that whatever issue Esar had was not one he wanted to share Thari stepped closer, turning both of them so they were shoulder to shoulder and face the fire. “What is it?” the younger brother repeated, hand wrapped around Esar's strong upper arm.
With a sigh Esar gave his brother a despairing look, blue eyes refusing to meet his brother's. “Not that I am unthankful,” he said softly, “I am. I so very am, but we have no where to gut them, no way of tanning the hides or a good place to let the meat dry or smoke or,” he broke himself off with a tiny, miserable noise, hand tugging at his hair.
Still frowning Thari turned slightly, glad to see the group had mostly turned away to gossip amongst themselves or gone over to the hunters to discuss the caribou and offer changes of clothing, though Ferest and Arinni darted glances their way. Turning back to face the fire he gave his brother's arm a comforting squeeze, before letting go, this time grabbing Esar's hand, stilling the increasingly violent tugs. “Come Es,” he said softly, untangling his brother's pale hand from his dark locks and keeping clasped between his, “calm yourself.”
“I try,” Esar said miserably. “I just feel,” he drifted off, eyes locked stubbornly on the dirt floor, refusing to meet his brother's calm gaze.
“You can tell me,” Thari said softly, “you can tell me anything.”
“I feel like I cannot do this.”
Thari blinked at that, hazel blue eyes widening as his gaze shifted from concerned to confused. “Why would you think that?”
Esar finally looked up, smiling fondly at his brother's baffled tone. “Oh Thari,” he said, fondness bleeding from his smile into his voice, “you have so much faith in me.”
“Who else should I have faith in?” the younger asked, “Inni? Ferest?”
“Inni and Ferest are both very capable,” Esar said in his sister and friend's defence.
Thari nodded impatiently, “capable yes, but you,” he turned his brother to face him and pocked him in the chest. “You are the one we trust the most.”
Esar's fond smile once again morphed into a frown, “and I do not believe I have earned that trust if father-”
“That is what this is about?” Thari demanded, his entire demeanour shifting into something almost combative, as if he were preparing for on of the many fights he'd gotten into as a child. “Father is, father is not here, but you are.”
“Only by a cruel twist of fate,” Esar murmured, going to turn back to the fire only for Thari to jerk him back around.
“It may have been fate,” Thari conceded, “but it was not cruel.”
Esar made an almost disgusted sound, this time turning successfully and stooping to add two more logs to the fire. “That avalanche killed father and almost a hundred more,” he snapped, “there was nothing kind about that.”
Thari crossed his arms stubbornly, jaw shifting in obvious defiance. “I never said it was kind,” he shot back, “simply not cruel.”
Esar said nothing at that but Thari could see the tenseness of his shoulders and so he squatted down next to his brother. “Father would have been no more prepared then you are now,” Thari said in practically a whisper, “none of us were prepared for-” he cut himself short once again, “none of us foresaw what Daera would do.”
Esar gave a bitter laugh at that. “But we-I should have, Daera was always,” he swallowed, “driven.”
“You mean obsessive.”
Esar nodded, “I do,” he admitted miserably and Thari responded by wrapping an arm around his shoulder.
“Do not doubt yourself so much,” he said softly, pressing a kiss to his brother's temple in an attempt to provide some comfort. With that the brothers parted, a small smile twitching to life on Esar's lips. Thari stodd, turning to face away from the fire, scowling at the group, “what are you all doing, staying so far from the fire?” he asked, ire obviously faked, “we can't have you all freezing to death.”
The group gave a few small chuckles at that as they scooted closer to the centre flames, Esar putting more logs on to provide more warmth. “We still need to deal with the caribou,” he reminded his brother and Thari stuck his tongue out at him.
“I know,” he said, “but I do not have to enjoy it.” With that he turned back to his group of hunters, “sorry you lot, looks like we have to take these back outside.”
“What? Why,” the red head looked appalled.
“Well they can't stay in here all night.”
“If we take them outside we'll need to post guards to make sure nothing eats them.”
The blond hunter gave him a disgusted look, “there is nothing around to eat them,” she pointed out, “it is all either underground or sleeping for the night.”
Thari interrupted the argument with a simple raise of his hand. “We'll cover them in snow and have some one check on them every quarter hour,” he said firmly.
Esar nodded his approval before turning his gaze to the sulking hunters, “you only have to take them back out,” he told them, “others will take the watch.” A few people grumbled half heartedly at that, though the hunters grinned.
“Esar is nicer then you Thari,” the red head said and Thari sniffed in response.
“But I am much more attractive,” he said, eliciting some more laughter from the group. Arinni snorted at her brother's immaturity, but a small smile played on her lips and Esar decided it was the time to apologize.
“Arinni,” he started but was cut off as she waved her hand.
“You are forgiven brother,” she said, “and besides, by forgiving you I am the bigger person.”