Haraka Omaras
"In the dawn it comes faster than the sun, or the blink of a gun. Through the trees comes a breeze so green that it'll bring you to your knees. Emerald breaths wafting through every door, too rude to knock before calling it home. So pretty and bright the maidens be until you see that you can't breathe. Weaving of the winds brings a terrible sin made by malicious plans and hands of man who see only the wants for filling their hands. The lass will linger on in the groves to force their way through to pierce the bones. Shimmering song sounds sweet as it makes it all clean to fill a few with gold."
A song echoed through the forest that kept beasts from even thinking of going near. It was a voice that sounded like many were all in tune, yet it was from one source. This sort of soul was one many would avoid. A large smile showed the tiny child like figures sharp teeth as it watched it's child. No matter how much he had wanted to take them from the fleshy silly world, it had been far too late for that a long time ago, nor would his friend would have wanted that. But wind wouldn't have done that anyway, because the infant never had down fear of him. There was certainly fears of many things, but not of wind, never of him. Haraka was an adult at this point, but the fae still had a hard time seeing it that way, if an attempt to see the mixed blood as one was ever made at all. Wind was resting in a tree, pitch black eyes holding a loving gaze on a particular figure. It was only a few thousand years ago when that brotherly friend had handed him the only infant that never showed a bit pf fear for the spirit. To not fear him meant to not fear death, not even instinctively.
The fleshy living don't do that the day they're born, not normally. A precious beloved infant that had been abandoned in a way that said those that gave them life hadn't thought of the event at all, if the birth had even been noticed. Perhaps if he had been alone, Wind would have tried to do what a few other sorts of fae had done before and since that time. The genderless being could bring familial love and comforts for the full grown fleshy nearby. They knew how, for there was nobody that knew their son better than Wind himself. This is why they thought and plot, a plan that had been continuing on for so very long. As for the pale ice blue skinned figure being watched nearby? A stew had been brewing, the broth long since made during the start of that day. As it was noon, it meant the stew would be ready soon. The last ingredients with the smallest amount of cooking time had been chopped, prepared, and placed a few minutes ago. He had ground up some flour and chopped some wild fruit he had found in the area and knew to be safe. It was placed into the dough along with a little bit of wild honey once the fruit had been cut finely enough. More flour was placed on his hands before he begun beating the bread dough a bit more with the hands, part of the process of mixing the last ingredients in. The doctor had a warm smile on his face, the sleeves of their grey dress up shirt being rolled up. Today was a day off, William was learning with their sitter, and Haraka was cooking in the middle of a dangerous forest. He was dressed in his white dress up vest, white pants, and dark shoes. Though a bit more loose than the pans he would wear to work, it was still very much a west fiore trading company uniform being worn.
The stew was in a large and thick stoneware pot that had been originally made from a red clay. It's lid was also clay, wood coating all its handles so it could be better handled. It was a sort of cookware not seen by modern kitchens too often. An empty thick glass bottle was sitting beside the glass fold out table. This table had a few old fashion looking metal devices. The ones being used had fuel in them made of fats and things, the burning of this fuel making the heat for the cooking. The only way to change the heat would be to move the item being cooked bearer or further from the burner. The metal item had no gears or any such things in it, it was just circular, metal, and held the fuel in a way that allowed pots to be placed on it fine, the bottom of the center also being raised enough to not burn what it's sitting on. It wasn't exactly a complicated object, nor a machine, but it worked fine for what it was doing. The first one was of course being used to cook the stew, the second one cooking a ginger drink using lemon, ginger root, water, and wild honey. It wasn't a complicated drink, but it was mixing and warming fine. There were two other metal objects for cooking on the table, but they were currently going unused. "If only every day could be this calm. What does it say about me that it doesn't feel like I can trust trouble to not find me even out here?" Maybe he was a monster, to feel not threatened by the beasts in the forest, but the possible people that might come in. "I need to learn how to enjoy my time off work better..."
The Blood of death kept me breathing. From that fluid birthed a new rhythm.
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