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+--- Thread: AW palms of my hands (/showthread.php?tid=7618)
palms of my hands - Isulix - 5/3/2025
all through early morning they have traveled.
he does not allow for her to carry any weight. his backside draped in the wrapped seal's hide, carrying a plethora of meats and many herbs and goods she has gathered herself and added to his growing collection. they do not travel light; and this was a good thing. in hopes of coming across more of their people, isulix would be prepared to display the bounty that they will bring.
during these days, he is not blind to her beauty. perhaps she is the most beautiful girl he has seen, and isulix grows fond in ways that are noticeable. but it is not yet in the way of him courting her; no. he is dutiful to her in the way any seal hunter man would be. ensuring she is fed with proper diet, and even when it goes against his own reserved nature, he splendors her with conversation should she have it.
a great cove opens up and isulix gazes in quiet admiration of its tall edges and the sea that washes to shore within. chuffing light words to saila as he goes ahead of her, rangy legs leading him further in, and his nose relishing in the smell of sea salt and brine as it envelops the both of them.
RE: palms of my hands - Saila - 5/3/2025
saila walks a half-step behind, her breath steady, the rhythm of her paws silent over loam and stone. she watches the way he moves ahead, shoulders dark and damp beneath the sealhide, broad enough to carry their wealth and still walk proud.
she’d offered once to help carry it. once.
he hadn’t answered, only shifted the weight more securely and kept walking.
so she let him. she hadn't understood the true courting process of seal men and women. she had been separated from her mother too late upon her womanhood, but she carried with her the traditions she had once known. but he made no move of them, and for that— she had been grateful. she'd wish to set up a home.
she follows the scent of salt and something else— a feeling almost ancestral. every step southward tugs something in her chest, a compass she hadn’t known she carried until now.
they are looking for the others. the seal-born. the women who still know the sacred rites. the men who earned their scars.
and as the cove yawns open before them, the wind rushing like a greeting, saila halts at its lip.
her voice cracks as it breaks through their silence, tethered by something feasible to shatter.
nose to the breeze, she steps forward to join him, eyes sweeping the shore.
she’d offered once to help carry it. once.
he hadn’t answered, only shifted the weight more securely and kept walking.
so she let him. she hadn't understood the true courting process of seal men and women. she had been separated from her mother too late upon her womanhood, but she carried with her the traditions she had once known. but he made no move of them, and for that— she had been grateful. she'd wish to set up a home.
she follows the scent of salt and something else— a feeling almost ancestral. every step southward tugs something in her chest, a compass she hadn’t known she carried until now.
they are looking for the others. the seal-born. the women who still know the sacred rites. the men who earned their scars.
and as the cove yawns open before them, the wind rushing like a greeting, saila halts at its lip.
her voice cracks as it breaks through their silence, tethered by something feasible to shatter.
they were here. some time ago.
nose to the breeze, she steps forward to join him, eyes sweeping the shore.
we’ll find them. or they’ll find us.
RE: palms of my hands - Chakliux - 5/3/2025
their whale was jealously guarded of seafowl and others alike. strips of meat had been laid out to dry, and chakliux had investigated many ways to bring down one of the massive ribs. it was not an undertaking for only himself; the seal hunter had begun to feel his age, and knew injury would mean far longer in recovering. as he brought down more whale-meat, he chewed blubber and hummed tonelessly to himself.
greasy-mouthed and speculative, he turned at the sharp tinge of seal in the air. and not a live seal, but a creature killed, flensed, and butchered, its saltblood growing pungent. struck with memories, chakliux stepped forward.
a man and a woman approached, and as he watched, the figures grew larger. a man bearing items, a lovely woman following just behind.
there was a strange familiarity here, made more pointed by the scent of seal which wreathed around them; "welcome to my beach."
a joke! said the brightberry eyes, the quick, easeful grin.
greasy-mouthed and speculative, he turned at the sharp tinge of seal in the air. and not a live seal, but a creature killed, flensed, and butchered, its saltblood growing pungent. struck with memories, chakliux stepped forward.
a man and a woman approached, and as he watched, the figures grew larger. a man bearing items, a lovely woman following just behind.
there was a strange familiarity here, made more pointed by the scent of seal which wreathed around them; "welcome to my beach."
a joke! said the brightberry eyes, the quick, easeful grin.
RE: palms of my hands - Isulix - 5/13/2025
a seal hunter man. he knows it now! isulix smells it deep beneath the whale-rot and blood. this man who has taken the seal beneath water.
isulix’s posture shifts where tension eases--but does not yet break, cautiously. his cold silver eyes track the stranger: the build, the scars, the weathered set of a true hunter. his own kind, but unknown.
his voice remains low, hard-edged by habit.
you carry the whale.isulix takes note, with a cold chirp. muradoii-fathered seal hunter's form cuts through the swirling mist of brine, with thick black fur lifting slightly in the sea wind;
you are well-met.