Eternal Torches Over the Sea III RP


Word Count: 18038
Herne      || FeatheredSeclude
Emerald    || Apothocareon

EP TALLY
+5EP for Active RP
+36EP for Word Count


PART I
PART II
PART III (You are Here)

"It was... then you let go," he remarked at her spinning about to sit in the water again.
He was sitting about the distant he was before he began his splash-fest at her. Now he watched her. Her tactic was identical to his own, he was certainly testing the water, to see what worked and what did not. The first couple things did not. So the typical taunts were not gonna do much either.
"So... what annoys you?" he asked, sitting in a very idle position.

"Rats, Empire cats, and being petted by sticky human cub paws." She wouldn't give out what provoked her in a fight.
No need to here, as he wasn't a serious opponent, but just something for fun, keeping her mind sharp if anything with his way of doing things.

"How about repetitive questions?"

"Depends. If there is a deeper answer than the one given originally then no, if it is just done to irritate me on purpose, I just tune it out like birdsong." The main reason she avoided cubs was her awkwardness with these incessant questions. Their favorites, 'Why?' and 'What if?' became quite wearisome.

"How about something that is unmistakably childish? Like why? or what if?" he said, "would those qualify as annoying? So things are actually annoying to you?"

"Birdsong to a sleepy sheep." She shrugged.
Getting riled by that would make her far from the soldier she had been raised to be. Instead she would either ignore the cub, or redirect the question to a cat with a more suitable chance to answer than she. If a cub just wanted attention, she could give it in the form of impromptu training.

"What's next, an impromptu as a form of training?" he said, slanting an ear, and facing his head down a bit, giving the appearance of a bit of arrogance, when there wasn't any there.
The caracal could never tell a verbal lie, but body language... he lied left and right on that... misleading was his specialty, he just needed to find what exactly would do the just call to Emerald. He needed her to come to him, one spring at him, that was all he needed, where he wasn't in the air of course... would be all he needed to pull the rug out from under her.
"Birdsong to a sleepy sheep sounds like something a cub who was getting annoying about something would say."

She got up slowly and meandered into water a bit deeper. When she was deep enough to stand on the bottom with only a small portion of her spine and entire head still out of the water, she stopped and turned back to look at him, again letting the surf wash over and over her, back and forth.
"Not this time around, no. Training in sand here is more ideal than the sands in the training pits. More open, less interference or distraction. It is a good place to train, but also to relax."

The caracal's taunting and playful manner had come to standstill as both Emerald's action, and then her choice of words.
"Temporarily fix one issue to make space for a new one..." he lipped from his mouth, not making anything audible, as he looked down at that water, "water works..." he said in a higher volume for Emerald to hear it, "only when you're in it though," he looked up at her, "that's just more running if you ask me..." he almost went to turn away, "and sadly water isn't a cure of everything... some faults..." he looked back at her, "are born in the water, like when your old man is all military, takes you out to the water, but then refuses to really do anything with you," he sighed, "action to action, word to word."
Herne himself didn't even see this one coming, hardly remembered anything of his father, minus how he died, but sadly things do jog the memory, and incessantly, it was of something he preferred to not remember.

"Come out from under your raincloud, duckling." She called with a half smile.
Her ears came forward. Emerald had realized she was going into a very relaxed state, and again had slipped into using her mother's phrases. They seemed to work for her, so why not for herself? And she began making her way back up the shore out of the water. The sun was starting to set and play gentle color changes to the clouds overhead.
"You are not ready to be all wet yet."
Instead of shaking to rid the water from her fur she turned back to face the sea, letting the constant wind blow over her thin, though muscular, frame.
"The water is an escape for fire, but so too is dust. If you know how, escape is always possible. There is always a solution, even if you yet do not see it."

Duckling? the caracal ran through his head really...
The caracal had nothing to say to Emerald. She was trying to help him, but how would that honestly help him. He knew what would put out a flame's physical appearance. It was the pain from the flame, the flame itself was something he never wanted to feel again, then everything else ontop of it. And then the jogging memory on his father's blind-pride to the ways of the law, and how little he actually did things with his kids. He was around at the end of the day, and when he was around, his interaction beyond showing a location was little. Of all his family, his father's death was likely the most gruesome, but the least he missed. Just the thought was complicated to think on. Herne knew he did care a lot, but the smaller moments were the most memorable... and those he was either not around, or just there.

He was making a face of both displeasure and confusion. She had a very uncomfortable moment when she was urged by instinct to give him a lick on the head, but she suppressed it. That would hardly have been appropriate with a cat she'd only just introduced herself to that very day.
"You need not brood so much over worries. It will cause you to be weary of soul. During our play in the sea, your spirit seemed happy. Why so melancholy, little jay? Why so lonely?" Outside of battle, Emerald had almost no physical contact with other felines, preferring to distance herself, and observe others in their antics.
In their wet sort of fun, she had found out more about him than from his words. He was weakened on one leg, but moved to accommodate the old injury. The younger mix had adapted well also, to his loss of hearing in his burnt ear.
The way he moved reflected more of herself than she had been expecting, though lacking in experience, he had all of the fundamentals of a good fighter for his size. She wondered idly what he would do fighting a cat of smaller size. Few were smaller than he, but some accomplished cats were of tiny stature.

The apprentice gave a huff, and remained quiet for another good moment, thinking over what to say, if he were to say anything... but sure enough, he found something to say.
"I grew up alone," he uttered flatly, "no one to look after me... mainly everyone was out to get me more than anything," he kept his eyes at the water, "it was learn to fight-fend for yourself, or you die..." he then panned his eyes up at her, "having to do that while you're covered in severe burns, half your senses are gone, and you had just witnesses your whole family be killed in front of you... one by sword... two by water... then by fire," he shook his head slightly before looking back at the water, panning his eyes down a bit, "--been too busy to find any answers on it --keeping myself alive and all..." he looked back up to her after a hard huff, "burying what happened then... isn't fixing it, my dad was a Hunter himself... yet died by Hunters as well... defending his family... farm cats," the caracal stood up, "one mis-label... lead to everything... that is why labels and titles... have no meaning to me..." he almost smirked at that, "I go by what their present day actions say... any past actions means nothing, if your present self betrays it. And I was raised--briefly--to help those who need it, so that occupies me a lot... also a way of looking for answers."

"That was a very big to do. I remember most of those events. So you were his kit eh?" Her head and eyes followed the younger cat. He still seemed to droop, and not just from water weight. "I was born a wilder, so roots matter little to me. Cats die everyday. Are born every day, and the world changes not. It is what you do about your circumstance that defines you. You live, yes? What will you do? Wallow, or thrive? Live or die? Life is cruel, and will give no time to think it over. Getting a second chance is not chance."
Emerald walked over to where the rocky tide pools sat again. Tide was going out further still, leaving them farther and farther from each other. This time she hopped onto the rounded top of one of the larger stones scattered about, letting the sea wind and the last of the sunshine dry out her pelt. It felt good in a way. Refreshingly cool and dusty as the salt dried into her fur.
"Because you valued your family highly, it hurt greatly to lose them, and more so because your family was hurt because of his actions, not theirs. I disagree with the harming of the entire group over a single individual's actions. One should be accountable for their own, and others are not involved in the decision making."

"They should have verified it..." the caracal huffed, "before anything," his face showed frustration, "sadly you never know what'll jog your memory..." he paused before giving a stern look at Emerald, "there is huge difference between someone dying, and being murdered, death is part of life, it's natural, murder isn't," he almost growled at the statement, "you choose whether you rob someone's life, you choose a lot of things, most are subconscious, partly due to conditioning," he huffed again, "that is something I really do not like about Hunters, and am sure that Empire Cats do the same, this is why things are the way that they are, answers and revenge are also different things... how often does one seek answers over vengeance?"

"Nine times of ten, people just want a fast answer without all the facts. Corruption runs rampant that way. Again, I do not think killing someone is the right way for making a point. Even if it is the fastest way to do so." Emerald began grooming herself, slowly fluffing out her fur and rearranging it so that it would cover her well scarred frame. "Bloodshed begets bloodshed. That is how it has always been. Cubs were killed and they wanted a scapegoat, so they found one." She herself had not even been nearby when the entire event had happened, and knew nothing until after everything had been said and done.
She couldn't have interfered even if she had wanted to at the time. She was surprised he had survived this long.
"You have done well to live."
Her master and she had been battling for their own lives against the intruding forces and trying to maintain order in the chaos that had come about. As the city guard, that was their job. They had been the ones to pick up the pieces during the aftermath and help repair the damage done both mentally and physically.

"--heard about some cat that killed others… cubs from what I heard about it, in practically cold blood during the war? not sure who it was though..." the apprentice said, "... the fast answer," his brows went up in a protesting fashion before dropping back down, "without the facts..." he repeated from the lynx, "quickest way to do damage, little... so little thought... ever... goes into the repercussions of the fast answers that carry no facts... it is astounding how many are that way, dive at the first thing they see, and run it to the floor, then keep dragging it when it has nothing more to offer... digging a cruel pit basically, that many are going to be drug into along the way..."
He was still in the water, and walked to a more shallow spot where he could lay on his stomach and not really have to worry about getting his head submersed, but enough to where only his spine, neck and up, was what was out of the water, but the waves coming to and fro varied the height of the water.
"Any idea what started the war originally?" Herne then asked, "the Battle of Massilia was part of it..." he glanced out to the horizon.
The sun was getting closer to setting, and the sky was far more pink and orange, with purples and blue casting behind the two, in the direction of Lightning Empire. He stared out at it, making thoughts on what he had planned run in his head again... he would need to get back to the city before Last-Sun came around... this to the caracal time wise was around thirty minutes after the visible fireball in the sky disappeared, where any remnants of the sun were gone. Where stars were the only light that lit the dark sky... but there was good chance storms would be the call tonight, based on the clouds in the sky, west-to-east they were going, starting at the horizon, and stretching their long fingers and nails across the sky. He prayed that it rained that night. He could use it. At that he looked back to Emerald, who was in a grooming session... he found it a little odd... the whole grooming thing. He never did, simply because his tongue for a start was also burned... he knew to not drink salt water, but tasting it... he never could. So he chose to take a deep breath, and sink his head under the surface, and look to where the horizon was, and watch the sunset for a bit.

Her fur was still wet, but not dripping, so she let it dry in the breeze. She had heard about the tiger who had sought vengeance for dead cubs by killing more cubs. It had been wrong. Even her rat brother had said he acted on his own in one of their border spats. The grey male had gotten the better of her that time, and being the sympathetic weakling he was, had opted to call it a draw.
The brown patterned female sighed in the yellow light. It played dandelion hues on the finer hairs that blew this way and that. the sun was to the shore side. As she thought, Herne ducked his head below the waves.
Emerald raised a curious brow, but stayed her perch...

The caracal watched the distortions of fragmented lights dance from under the water's surface. It was by no means as detailed as being above the surface, but it certainly brought a new life to the sunset. The caracal didn't like any sensation of heat on him, this included that sun. This was why he was under the surface of the water. The water took the ability for the sun project heat on him, but now he could still view it, in a way anyway... The beams of god rays striking into the water and lighting the ground of the sandy ocean floor looked elegant, as well as unpredictable. The caracal slowly exhaled, so he could stay under the surface for as long as he could, before he brought his head above the surface, but only enough so his face was above the water. He was looking at the sunset still, but turned his head over to look at Emerald... who appeared to be done with drying off, or whatever it was she was doing.

"Shall we head for home?" She tilted her head at him.
Herne was looking quite tired at this point, but he also seemed like he wouldn't be sleeping well that night.
"As thanks for joining me tonight, would you join me for supper? It is bass from the ports when he returns home tonight."
The salted sea bass was strong in flavor, and her master like to coat it in bread crumbs and fry it in animal lard, so it was a real treat. In most places, cooking like that was reserved for festival times, but the guardsman had learned the trick from a passing jester looking to raise the moral of the troops. It created a very high calorie, fattening food that would give a man energy for days, or make him fat if he didn't work. Emerald enjoyed the succulent flavors it made, and her master often used leftover bacon grease to fry, so even more flavor was added in a pleasant way. The crunch was strange but good too.
"There will be plenty to share."

The apprentice stood up, mainly due to mention of fish... he hadn't had bass too often, but why not? Fish he doesn't have to hunt for. How could he pass that up? Then you got the fact he was just invited to eat some fish. Win win, in his book.
So Herne nodded, starting to walk out of the water, reaching the shore, and not bothering to shake off. He preferred to be tad over hot, and shaking off would hinder the duration of it. So he didn't.
"So are we gonna be headed to the docks? Or back to Gate B?" he asked, just to be sure.

"Back to North Gate." The familiar term that the humans used for figuring out which place they were going had been picked up by the feline. "My home is just to the east of the gate. Those smaller structures built right up to the wall? The back of it is actually the wall itself. There are some archer's targets on the roof."
The smallish structure made the base of where the guards stationed in that area lived and slept. With the wall and the walkway looming above, it felt cozy to the she-cat. A good place to call home. It wasn't big or fancy, but it was nice in it's rusticness. She didn't think she would ever be comfortable in such a large home.
With a deep breath through her nose, she stood up. The female stretched out, rolling her shoulders and back in a wave like motion not unlike the sea's roiling tide. Her paws splayed out and revealed just how large they were, and her sharp, dark, claws. They were long and well cared for. As soon as they had come out, they were back in their natural sheaths. She straitened and trotted over to the apprentice, before leading the way back to the sandy path that would lead to the larger one following the wall's outer perimeter. Today had been a good day.
"Thank you for indulging this she-cat in a bit of cub fun. It has been a very long time since I last enjoyed myself like that."

"Good to know," Herne stated as he followed Emerald back to the city, "plus that'd make two of us."
The light peeking its way through the trees they had past, was a form of beauty to the caracal. Though the moon and its way to peering through low-lit places was unfathomably better, which it able to be seen through a break in the clouds as they went on. The wind making the trees clap their hands added a lot more flickering to the moon on the east, and flickering to the sun's remnants on the west. It was quiet an environment to be in, and then to top it off, there was a mix of dry lightning and wet lightning flashing to the south and above them. So it seems some weather was to be expected in Massilia that night. Each low rumble of thunder that was called after each wet lightning strike was to the caracal, bliss... when it was be deluging, he would be in it if he could get himself to be able.
Though fighting in the ring with that weather was not very grand, his first fight in the ring was probably the worst when it came to conditions. Massilia had a freak cold snap, though this year seemed to be prone to random cold and hot snaps, so sleet and ice in July, if he remembered correctly, was unusual. But they live on a coast with nearby mountains, hectic weather was part of the ecosystem, which this apprentice preferred.
Around this time, the pair were only a wrap or two away from being at gate they left from. This time the caracal was going to follow the lynx through the gate, rather than hike over it.

"Indeed it does make two." She smiled and nodded to him as she walked along the better worn path as they walked beside the wall. She saw a pair on patrol above give them a look curiously, and she waved her tail at them in greeting. That would have them satisfied.
It was a truly beautiful evening and sunset. She hastened her gate. Wind was starting to pull harder from the sea and meet with the cooler swell swinging down to them from the hills and mountains. "Shall we hurry? Rain seems to be about soon."

"Then the weather will be more interesting," the caracal remarked sarcastically to her, "but if you insist." he picked his pace up as well.
At that they wrapped around the gates and were back into the city. It was now as simple as their destination. Herne was ninety-five percent certain where already, he already knew the city as well as his muzzle-top, the northern half he even moreso than that. He knew the patrols well, there were a number that had little breaks, things that could be used later, if need be. But only someone who knew all of them could actually make any use of them, and then there were various areas where a lot of back-tracking and double-trailing would be required to get some of these opening. He'd know through past experience.
"So is the fish gonna be fresh?" the apprentice then asked, as they seemed to nearing their final destination.

"If he can find some at the market, yes. If not, there is always salted bass. It keeps longer without stinking up the place." She trotted past the gate house, nodding to the man that she was back, and hurried back to her own dwelling.
Two barrels sat, one to either side of the door, by the entrance to the second opening from the end closest to the gate. One looked well worn, and the other seemed rather new compared. It had put there for the red cheetah whom her master had won but he'd been gone for many moons now. The last cat to use this nest had been Estelle, and a bit of her fallen away fur was still stuck to the pelt at the bottom. That had been a fun sleepover as any.
"Smells like he's home early. A good man, he doesn't go drinking too often, and likes his dinner hot. I am inclined to agree with him." She gave a polite murrow as she entered her home, pushing the loosely swinging door open with the top of her head. There was a firm latch, but it wasn't fixed shut yet, so the door opened with ease.
The man greeted his cat with a welcoming voice, but didn't rise from his stool next to a small stove. The metal contraption seemed to have been well abused and used, but looked sturdy. The sound of grease spattering and hissing emitted from the metal pan he swirled over the heat.
With a smile she walked in, holding the door open for her guest with her rear foot so he would be able to enter without obstruction.
"Come in. He will put it in those dishes on that short stool if you sit in front of one. Master is not against guests."
The man looked back at her continued sounds and gave a surprised eyebrow raise, but still remained seated. Using a tool that worked like tongs, he removed the sputtering stiff looking object from the pan and set it on a woven cloth well away from the heat of the stove. Three objects like it were already on the cloth, still steaming softly.
With a look around, Emerald motioned to the short stool like serving table her man had set up next to the door. She knew his cat didn't like the smell of smoke from the stove oven, so he had provided her with the greatest distance from it he could and still have her eat inside. She pointed at the low object with her tail.
"Over here."

Staying rather quiet, seeing the steam rising from the stove-top. He himself was not a fan of the thing. For his owner would use something similar, when he was home, or he saw Alastor's owner would use when Herne was out on his farm. Wood went into the bottom of the thing, and it got hot from fire that was inside of it. So the caracal made sure to keep some distance between himself and the thing. Just the fact it was considerably warmer in the place he wasn't fond of. But as blunt as he was, he did try to be honourable about stuff, and common curtsey fell into that pool, or pan you could say. He didn't like heat, none whatsoever, and Emerald was likely bound to notice his wide swing around the thing, along with a firm stare. Being in homes, also was not his specialty. He liked solace, or solitude in these types of structures, but it was mainly he just did not like the stove.
His favourite place when it came to sleeping was ironically a loose pile of hay, with sheets or cloths dropped over it. Though rarely did he actually get that. Maybe three times since being a Hunter Apprentice, has he actually slept on the farm. The rest of the time, it was somewhere he could in the slums, he would tend to sleep in a nook in the northern most dock, that was still within city walls. So he sat down nervously, waiting for what was to come next.

She could tell he was nervous. It was likely the stove's fault, she didn't like the contraption either. The smoke smell would make the room stuffy and hot, so it was only ever used when the weather was cool, or just before night fell to cool them. He would snuff the thing when he was finished cooking by blocking off its air. Fire seemed to need air just like any other living thing, but she was glad it was caged in metal where it couldn't get anywhere near them.
The man at the stove brushed a hand through his longish black hair, pushing a few stray strands out of his face that had escaped the tie that held his small head pelt back. He seemed sturdy enough, and well muscled a man. His tunic was dusty brown, and when he turned to look back at his houseguest and loyal war cat, his eyes were a lighter brown color, as close as human eyes got to amber, but just darker. His hide was well sun tanned, but some recent scars across his arms told that he could defend himself.
She sat next to her new young friend with a smile wide. "Fish up!"
The man came over with the four pieces of fried fish on the cloth and split them into pairs for the cats. He broke one in half and more steam came forth as he set it into the wooden bowls atop the short stool. It was more of a very small table up against the wall next to the door, but it was very clean. Then he rubbed Emerald between her ears with a firm hand, grubbing up the fur there in his friendly human way. He didn't reach to touch the smaller cat, but gave him a nice word anyway.
"He's telling you to enjoy it." She translated as best she knew as he went back to the stove and dropped in three more limp sections of fish.

Almost scoffing at "Fish up!" he managed to mask it internally, since it was indeed a great pun. He couldn't hid the grin though.
After this man went about putting fish in the bowls, he went back to the stove. The caracal looked at what was supposed to be fish. What the heck did this man to do to the fish, to get them to look like that? the cat ran through his head, but an expression that told his thoughts was plastered on his face. He glanced to Emerald, who was saying for him to enjoy it. The apprentice couldn't seem to get past what happened to it? And literally went to touch it once with his paw, it was definitely hot. Which made him take a step back from it. Everything he had eaten in his life was cold, or at least as long as he could remember, was cold, and freshly done away with. This is because it was fish.
He really hadn't the faintest idea on what to say or even really do. He did want to try it, but it would have to be cold before he did. He scooted himself half the distance he backed up, forward, and was trying to hide himself pouting.

Em shrugged, watching the youngster look at the food as if a grub had sprouted from the grub. "Too hot?"
She herself settled in, and took a rather loud crunch of a bite. The sound matched the pleasantness of the food. It was still very hot, so she lapped a bit of water from the third bowl set against the wall. It always had fresh water in it before eating time, and was fairly large. On special occasions, the man would pour some wine into the bowl instead, but it was just water today.
The female swallowed after chewing up the succulent fish. "If you let it cool too long, it loses half its flavor. Tuck in kit."
With that she went at her own food with a good bit of zeal, taking large mouthfuls and chewing rapidly. Surprisingly for her speed, she was a very clean eater.

The caracal gave the lynx a bit of a glare when she stated it was too hot, and then she had inhaled the food, getting the sentence, or statement rather, on it losing half of its flavour when it got.
"Like I'd taste any of it anyway," he scoffed out... then shutting his eyes from hearing himself say it.
I'm probably going to get hit for that... and kicked out, he ran in his head.

She raised an eyebrow at his response. Sure he didn't like hot things, probably because it irritated his old burn scars. They would over time become less and less sensitive to such things. Being raised in the army had gotten her used to smaller but very regular meals, so just the two pieces was enough. She could have eaten a great deal more, but habit had gotten her accustomed to that amount.
"You can dip it in the water if you want, but it gets soggy that way." Already it had stopped steaming.
The odor of the fish was quite strong in the house.

Soaking whatever this fired fish was, was a tempting option for the caracal, but he lightly touched it again with his paw, it was still hot, not steaming hot, but who was to say about the inside of the thing, that was odds are, still pipping hot. His ears were slanted in a mix of frustration and nervousness. His tail flicked ever now and then, and he was basically staring at his feet. He knew he was looking rather rude and callus for not eating it, but what was he to do? He was already pressing his nerve on the fact the place was considerably warmer than he liked, then the hot food, that he in a sense, did ask for. He was blunt, yes. But he also tried to be respectful when he could, when they also earned it also. Emerald did earn it, and he wasn't doing a bang-up job on returning.
He came to a conclusion, sadly it wasn't the greatest of options.
"Please excuse me," he stood to his paws, and walked out of the building with a decent haste.
Pushing the door open with his head, then took a few more steps outside, and then huffed as he sat down.
Why can't I just ignore the heat? he grunted in his head, but no... had to run away from it... again...

She rose and followed him out of the swinging door. Master wouldn't mind about the food, she usually didn't leave anything behind so he wasn't likely to clean it up until after he finished.
The female had a cooing type of tone, curious, and completely non volatile. Soft, and caring. With head low and ears forward see seemed soft about it. Emerald tilted her head to the side ever so slightly.
"Are you alright?" There was a slight pause before she continued. "If you like, we can eat outside. That is not uncommon."

"... ran away from heat... again..." he uttered lowly "how you do get past heat when it self-contained?" he said rhetorically before looking at the lynx, his face hiding a lot of what he felt, "any... any sensation of heat... makes me uncomfortable... the heat of the sun, hot food... another's body heat..." he hadn't said that to another soul, she was the first... but how else what he to say what happened.
There was also the fact that she probably was not aware of his inability to smell or really taste either.
"So no... I'm not..." he huffed, "hhhhhhhh..."

"Mmhum." She nodded her head and let it rise.
The larger female turned and hopped up onto her barreled nest. With a curling wave of her tail, she motioned for him to take a seat on the barrel across the doorway from hers. Only the faintest scents of smoke came from under the door space, but that was largely ignored. The heat from inside didn't penetrate far from that small space.
"It took well over a year for me to learn to be around hot things." She still disliked and distrusted open flames, torches, and candles, preferring to keep as far as reasonable from such things.
She tucked her forefeet to her chest, and allowed one rear leg to dangle over the round shaped container. Looking relaxed, save for her ears falling back again, she watched the apprentice. It had been a long and hard road to learning to tolerate heat and being around flames of any kind, and no amount of explaining would see him through such trials any quicker. He would have to learn on his own how to cope, as she had.
"Call it a stubbornness against the pain. Though it burns, call it a battle of wills."
The burns that had laced around her legs when she was young were long regrown over with fur so that none would have ever known. Her pads were the only place to give away any such detail of injury there. Heat in extremes would still make the old scars itch, but long years in the army had steeled her into a very mule like discipline.

The caracal huffed through his nose, seeing the lynx's motion for him to go to the other barrel. The sun by now was completely out of the sky, only it's ever-stretched remnants remained, the moon was peering in and out from the clouds, where thunder was becoming a constant thing, along with the lighting that precedented each presence of thunder as they scurried the sky.
"It's odd to me..." he started to say before taking a jump onto the barrel, and sitting, "I don't like loud noises either... but thunder... is an exception," he looked at Emerald for a second before looking at the skies, "so I'm on my own when it comes dealing with heat still then?" he looked back at Emerald, "Guess I'm still in the gate..." he looked back to the sky.
At this point, a rain had started, and that was sublime to the golden-yellow feline. At least it wouldn't be hot and most of the torches would be out.

With the rain starting, and the wind kicking up, Emerald gave Herne a half helpless look. She made a quick sliding motion and slid into her barrel over the front and turned around fully inside. She didn't mind being wet swimming, but rain just fell on your head one annoying drop at a time. She had been out in rain before many times, and it wasn't a vanity issue. She had finally fully dried off, and having recently eaten, felt warm that way.
"I do not envy you the trip home, Herne, but perhaps next time there will be something for you to enjoy. Fair winds and good food." It was an old army farewell.
With that she made a quick reversal, snatching up her armor, and bringing it back inside her master's dwelling. The barrel would be dry enough for her, but getting the fittings wet was just asking for it to fail her later along the line. Master would keep it dry.

Herne didn't say anything as the feline to disappear inside to her Master's building.
He turned around, and began to pad away from the place. His next goal was simple, he was a bit late on it, if he hurried to get caught up to the patrol with Roy and Al, he could check some spots in some patrol overlaps that he was interested. But if he were too late, he'd then check on some captives in the city, and see if anything new was up. At this, he picked his pace straight up into a near full-run.

PART I
PART II
PART III (You are Here)