Somehow, sitting at a desk all day was even more exhausting than training. There was no fire in her muscles reminding her she was alive, no fatigue that signaled a rest well-earned. Instead there was just a dull ache in her bottom and a twinge in her lower back. I'm too old for this, she thought, then chuckled to herself. An amusing thought, considering she had spent the night before swinging around a heavy weapon nearly her entire height. She'd have to talk to the editor about a more comfortable seat, at any rate. The stiff wooden chair supplied by the Times had an upright back and no cushioning. Charumati suspected that many of her fellow employees were feeling the effects of their chairs as well, regardless of age.

Her stomach rumbled. While the cafeteria lunch was not as disappointing as she'd thought it would be, it wasn't nearly as filling as one of her packed lunches from home. Glancing at her pocketwatch with a sign, she changed direction and headed off to the Market district to buy supplies for the evening's dinner. She had food at home, but after the meagre amounts she had for lunch she had every intention of making a feast for one.

She had just stopped by a stall to look over some fresh cabbage when she was jostled from behind. "Oof!" With unusually quick reflexes she steadied herself, hovering inches above the vendor's cabbages; the proprietor was staring at her with a grimace, bracing for the inevitable collapse on top of his produce. Instead, she righted herself. The proprietor breathed an audible sigh of relief, muttering something. Charumati reached out and pressed several yuans into his hands, more than enough to pay for a half dozen cabbages. "For your trouble," she said simply, before turning on her heel and following the person — people, it seemed — who had knocked into her without so much as an apology.

Despite her pastel mint shirt and grey skirt, the tall woman drew little attention to herself. She moved quietly, with purpose, keeping just enough distance away from the rabble-rousing group. What were they up to?

Then, through a break in the crowd, she spotted it. A cat! They were chasing a cat! Charumati narrowed her eyes. Cats, of all creatures, were her favourite animal. She clenched her fists tightly, her nails digging into the palms of her hands. Of course, she couldn't risk a public spectacle. Imagine the headlines: 'Dear Rohana' Author, Arrested!  No, thank you!

But there was no way she'd leave the poor creature alone. She followed them, her long strides closing the gap quickly as they turned and disappeared into an alley. She quickened her pace when she saw a wild-looking man following them, garbed in what appeared to be a sleeveless leather vest. She frowned. Curiouser and curiouser, said some fictional girl, once.

Once safely within the walls of the alley and out of sight from the main road, Charumati loosed the top buttons of her blouse to give herself some breathing room. The bizarrely dressed man had drawn a weapon — at the end of the alley, she saw a spark of flame come to life.

Firebender!

Swiftly, Charu reached out to the strange man, first signalling with her hand so he'd notice her out of the corner of his eye, then placing her other hand's index fingers to her lips in a universal sign for quiet. The ruckus from the cat's yowling and spitting were loud enough to drown out any sounds of surprise. Then she gestured, waving her hand. Stand down, she was trying to say, motioning for him to lower his weapon. Then she gestured again. Follow my lead. Her demeanour clearly indicated she intended to be followed; the thought never even crossed her mind that the man might do anything other than what she instructed. Decades worth of training had honed her ability not only to fight, but to command.

Not stopping to see if the man followed her instructions, she cleared her throat obnoxiously. "Hem-hem."

OOC: I'll let you NPC the benders, I'll follow your lead (:

He had not noticed his palms itching.

Every trapper worth his pelts developed it in time; the hunter's sense, outside of sound and sight and smell and skin. Where to place the arrow, when to plunge the blade, if he was truly the hunter... or if he was the hunted. For Nirav, it was an itch in his palms. But his anger clouded his mind, blocking it out, urging him to take these... these ignorant fools and teach them what it meant to hunt prey, instead of taking into account his surroundings. And now, he had someone behind him, someone he would not have noticed had it not been the hand, raised to grab his attention silently.

Without sound, Nirav raised his kukri to strike the stalker. But he paused, holding himself as still as stone as his brain caught up with his body. Dark eyes, widened temporary by surprise, observed her cautiously, taking in her strange dress as an aside as he noted the way she held herself. She motioned with her hand, bidding him to... to lower his guard? No, weapon. She wanted him to lower his weapon. After a moment of staring, a brow raised and his gaze flickering about her person in slight confusion, he did so... very slowly bringing the blade down and to his side, as if compelled by some mesmerising force. And now she motioned again, asking him to follow... no, she was commanding him to follow. Everything about this woman screamed out "leader" to the hunter. He was unexpectedly reminded of his father. He, too, commanded by presence alone, a born leader.

As he padded silently just behind his unexpected companion, holding the weapon behind his leg so it was out of sight, Nirav pondered what it was this woman planned on doing. What he least expected her to, apparently, making a loud sound with her throat to purposely alert their foes of their presence. The hunter blinked his momentary shock, before his full attention was dragged back to the three offenders before them as the fire-wielding one laughed. The same laugh as before; cruel, one used to seeing pain and drawing pleasure from it. Mouth opened, words came forth too fast, meaning nothing.

"Well well, what do you two want?" Nirav's features hardened at the tone. Mocking, sharp smile slashing the face. The two behind turned too, following the firebender's lead and sneering as well. But between them all were signs of surprise, defensiveness; crossed arms, one leaning back slightly. Unsure, wary. Their eyes flickered back and forth between him and the woman. One of them licked his lips.

"You. Stop," the hunter uttered, his deep voice, usually in monotone, quivering slightly with anger only just kept in check. No. Respect! His normally blank face was clouded, brows knitted, jaw jutted forward, the claw scar that ran from brow to jawline crinkling as the facial muscles tensed.

"Stop what?" The firebender replied, before glancing back at the hissing cat behind him. Fatal mistake; a lunge forward, blade flashing up. No flame would save him. But Nirav paused, remembering his companion's motions: Weapon down. Follow.

More laughter as the realisation came to the thug, echoed slightly later by his party. "You want me to leave this runt alone? And what exactly are you and grandma here gonna do to stop us, eh? Two against three! That's two... and three." The last words were spoken slowly, fingers raised to indicate number accompanied by more laughter. Too slowly to try and be helpful. An insult against his intelligence. Easily forgotten. But the words were too fast again. What did he do? He glanced to the woman at his side before answering.

"I hunt," Nirav said, raising the wicked looking blade from were it hid and into the light. Fear appeared on faces, more uncertainty of victory in confrontation. The firebender took a slight step back before relaxing, rolling his eyes and speaking once more, much slower and annoyance infecting his tone. "No, you... utter simpleton. I meant: Or. Else. What?"

Finally understanding the verbal threat as it was, jaw muscles clenched as the hunter spoke too, emphasising every word.

"Or. Else. I. Hunt." Nirav raised the kukri, knuckles white with anger. His entire body was like a coiled spring, ready to pounce forward and take the blade to them all despite his female companion's wordless instruction.

OOC: Hope this is alright! Feel free to take control of the NPC's in your post, as well. (:

Facing a firebender with naught but a hunting knife took some guts, Charumati had to admit. As the Firebender and his cronies taunted her temporary ally, she raised her hands, palms outward, in what appeared to be a peaceful gesture.

"One has to have children who have children in order to be a grandmother," she replied conversationally, her soft voice somehow still loud over the din of the marketplace.

They ignored her, instead taunting her companion over his broken phrasing. She sighed, audibly. The inherent superiority complex benders had always baffled her. They had no idea what it would be like to fight naked, bereft of their inherent ability.

Beside her, the wild-looking man tensed, his control about to snap. Of course, she couldn't risk a scene that would draw the attention of the police.

With another audible sigh and a look of resignation on her face, she sprung into action. The firebender was still busy laughing when she kicked a shoe into his face with a flick of her foot. It struck him square on the forehead, startling him enough that he took a step backward.

"Why you-—!" Flames appeared in his hand, but he was a split second too slow.

With a speed and agility belied by her age, she had run to the left-hand side of the alley, leaping over a rubbish bin with ease. Keen to avoid any actual charge of physical assault, she undid the sash on the first lacky's pants, causing them to slip down around his ankles.

Grabbing the untied sash, she whipped at the second goon to make a loud cracking noise. It startled him, and he gave a short cry of pain before sheepishly realising he hadn't actually been struck. But it was enough. He had thrown out his hand to steady himself, and Charumati quickly wrapped the sash around his wrist.

The firebender, his fist full of flame, launched himself at her. She dodged, but hampered by the narrow alleyway he managed to singe the small lace ruff on the collar of her blouse. She cursed inwardly. This was her favourite shirt.

Not missing a beat, she wrapped the other end of the sash around the firebender's wrist, connecting him to his friend. The two toppled over with the firebender's momentum, crashing into the alley back wall.

The cat look petrified. She signaled to her ally to grab the cat, facing off against the now semi-recovered pantsless goon as the other two struggled to extricate themselves from each other.


OOC: I didn't want to completely take them out without your assistance, so feel free to liven things up here. But Charu will do whatever she can to avoid alerting the police / being caught.

Nirav knew full well that women could fight. In his tribe, gender meant nothing; you carried your own weight and learned to survive, or you did not live through many winters. Male, female, these boiled down to minor concerns of inter-tribal marriage and personal hygiene.

This did nothing to prevent his utter shock at the way his newfound companion took down the thugs as if they were simple fowl before a mountain sabre-lion. For a brief moment, the tribesman pondered if he would have been able to fight them in such a contest. The answer came as swift as it was certain: no. Nirav was a hunter, not a warrior. Could he have defeated these three on his own? Yes, if he had been able to strike from shadow before they knew he was there. But in a straight up confrontation, he would have more than likely been soundly beaten. As he watched her dance, for that was what it looked like to his eyes, he came to a simple conclusion.

This woman was beautiful.

A gesture from the elegant dancer; the creature! The one he had been prepared to fight for, it had all but vanished from his mind. A glance showed it was still there, back up against the wall, all fear, too scared to flee, too scared to fight. Nirav approached, hand held out, palm first. A hiss, slash of talons. He withdrew momentarily, then came forward again, muttering gently to the cat in his home tongue. Fur began to lower, tension was slowly easing. Beasts were much better than people, he thought.

The sounds of combat continued, reminding Nirav he had little time. Regardless of skill, it was still an ill-numbered combat. A long-fingered hand was placed atop furry head; no thrashing, no scratching. It was shivering. "Safe," the hunter muttered, his deep voice showing inflections of fondness. Gently picking it up by the scruff, he casually placed it on top of the pack on his back. It was open, full of furs. Warm. Safe. The cat sunk right in, it's head poking from the top. A mewl, in thanks he fancied.

But now, back to conflict.

Anger escaped the firebender in a roar and burst of flame, his companion screeching as the sash turned to ash and burning him in the process. Raised fist, orange light winking to life. Aimed at the sabre-lion.

A sharp kick to the back of the knee put an end to thoughts of fiery retribution. The firebender, who seemed to have completely forgotten about Nirav while the woman knocked them about, fell to his knees, unbalanced. He stayed there as a hand grabbed a fistful of his long hair, yanking the head up. A curved blade glinted under his chin. One more movement, a quick slide, and he would go to the Long Sleep.

But no. This place, this city... it had different rules to those of the wilderness. A sigh escaped Nirav's lips, his dark eyes catching sight of the one who was burned by his friend's fire. Fear... and yet, glinting there, hidden in his eyes as he looked up at the sight of his fellow so close to being ended, hopeful expectation?

"No," Nirav stated simply. He spared a look over at his female companion, but she seemed to have taken care of her opponent in short order. No, he could not do it, not here. But perhaps a lesson? The hunter's grasp still tight on his hair, a nimble shift in his hands sent the metal to rest flat against the side of the firebender's face, sharp side nipping at the soft flesh under the thug's ear.

"Take ear, maybe?" Nirav pondered, his flat voice indicating nothing of his thoughts save for the seriousness of his intent. The animal in his pack mewled again, as if answering the question, and even the stoic hunter could not help but feel a fleeting twitch in the corner of his lips.

Respect. These ones learn through fear, Nirav thought. Then they would learn well.

The pantsless goon was not difficult to take care of. They simply stared at each other, unmoving. Charumati raised an eyebrow, crossed her arms, and shifted her weight onto on leg. The man whimpered. "I suggest," she said, her soft voice pleasant, "that you sit down against the wall and put your hands under your rear end." He scrambled to do as she bid. "There's a good boy."

A bloodcurdling yell tore through the air. Spirits, that could have been heard in the street. She spun around, only to see her unexpected ally gripping the fire bender by the hair. The young man she had tied him to was rolling on the ground, whimpering and clutching at a badly burned hand.

She crossed the space quickly and closed a calloused hand over the wild man's knife-wielding hand. "No," she said firmly. She had no idea what he intended to do, but she couldn't allow him to blow her cover. She could have easily used her chi blocking skills to disarm the bender, but that would cause questions. As would any retribution involving a knife. Charumati looked into the strange man's eyes, her gaze sharp. "Police will come." She paused, remembering his broken speech. "More trouble," she simplified.

Gently but firmly she pushed the man aside, squatting down to be face to face with the firebender. She did not, however, make the man let go of his hair; the firebender winced in pain, his amber eyes flashing. "Here is what is going to happen," she said, baring her teeth in an icy smile. "Like your friends, you are going to sit against the wall and be a good boy. My friend here and I will take our little cat friend and leave the alley in peace, unfollowed. The police will not be called. Count to one hundred, and you and your friends can leave. If you disobey..." here she leaned him close, her voice dropping into a menacing growl, her eyes narrowing, "I will make your life miserable. Do we have an understanding?"

The firebender scowled at her. "Or," she said with a shrug, her voice resuming its casual tone, "I can let my friend here do whatever it is he was planning to do."

After a few seconds, the firebender gave a short, curt nod. She signaled for the wild man to release his grip on his hair, and the firebender scooted backward to join his pantsless friend.

She stood, then made her way to the young man lying on the ground, sobbing silently over his hand. Her voice was gentle. "Here," she said, kneeling again, taking his hand kindly but firmly. Charumati drew a small compact from her pocket. It was filled with a pale white cream. She slathered it over his hand, then reached over and de-dashed the firebender too (who squawked in protest but made no move to stop her). She wrapped the sash expertly over the burn. "Get to a healer as soon as you can," she instructed.

Charumati stood once more and turned to leave, slipping her foot easily into her discarded shoe. "Come on," she said to the strange man, extending her arm to him. "Let's go eat."

Trouble. A word that Nirav had grown more than used to hearing in more recent days. Ever since he was banished from the mountain, in fact. It seemed the world was full of it, and he caused more than his fair share simply by existing in it, by just acting the way he was brought up to act. Perhaps he should try to be someone else? The concept baffled him. The hunter did not know how to be anyone but himself.

Allowing his female companion to move the blade away from the firebender's face, the young man watched as she spoke. Too fast to understand, save for a word here and there, but the face told him a lot more; smiling with teeth, no warmth. She was threatening them, then? That seemed the most likely. Nirav noted the firebender looking away from her eyes and yanked him by the hair to make sure he was paying attention.

When she was done with the firebender, the hunter let go of his hair and saw to stowing his blade, making sure to look the thugs dead in the eye as he drew the sharp edge lightly across his thumb before sheathing it. As the small amount of blood welled up and dripped from the digit, Nirav pondered why he still did that; when travelling with the pirates, he had accidentally cut his finger with it while attempting to put it away. They had laughed... at least until he had uttered the words: must taste blood. After that, they treated him much more seriously. The lie had amused him somewhat, and so he had kept doing it whenever people where around to reinforce the story. A pointless thing, but harmless fun.

The young hunter watched, baffled, as the woman applied the ointment to the burns. They were the foe. Why help them now? They had learned nothing. They would more than likely go on to do the same again, only next time he nor she would be around to stop them. Cruelty, it seemed, was timeless.

More confusion as she spoke again. Eat? She wanted food? And what was she doing with her arm? His brow knitted together as he tried to work the gesture out in his head. It looked vaguely like the motion old Aadesh used to call his hunting birds back to his arm. A command, then? Did she view him as some trained beast? After a moment's pause, he disregarded it. It did not mesh with what he had read of her so far.

Realising that he had not moved for some moments, Nirav's eyes flickered back and forth from his companion's face to her arm several times until he finally settled on his best guess and firmly grasped her elbow with one of his long-fingered hands.

"So it is," he uttered to her, repeating the phrase he had heard his old captain say constantly as a positive confirmation. His hand motioned sharply towards the exit to the alley, indicating her to lead on. His gaze shifted momentarily towards the thugs, but they were doing what she had commanded, watching them with eyes begging them to leave.

"Yes. Eat. So it is," Nirav repeated, just to be sure she knew he understood that she wished to eat with him.

OOC: Feel free to lead them away somewhere!

The man paused for a while, staring at her proffered arm. Hm. Perhaps not all gestures were universal. She was about to drop her arm all together and just gesture they leave the alley when the intention seemed to hit him and he reached up and grasped her elbow. With a rare smile — close lipped and small, but crinkling the corners of her eyes — she patted his hand gently and led him out of the alleyway. She heard a small movement from behind her but continued to walk.

The one she bandaged would be forever changed by their encounter. Charu had no illusions he would suddenly reform and become a model citizen, but today would linger in the back of his mind, like a burrowing insect. He would remember how his friend burned him without a second thought, just because he had lost his temper. He would remember the agony and scent of seared flesh — his flesh. He would remember how she had so, so easily brought all three of them to their knees, how she could have done more as he lay there, helpless and disarmed. How instead of crushing him, she treated him.

It would not be accurate to say she had treated him out of kindness. She had little sympathy for those who became injured while they bullied those weaker than them. She had treated him so that the small act of mercy would never be forgotten, so that the next time he looked at the twisted flesh on his hand he would remember that it was his friend, not his enemy, that had made it so.

And if those foolish children decided to find her... well. It was always good to keep old bones limber.

It was a breeze, even with her companion, to slip into the marketplace crowd unnoticed. His strange appearance was offset by her bland, style-conforming one, and her age. Perhaps a wayward son or grandson with a strange sense of fashion? No one gave it much thought.

As they walked, she talked. Her words were spoken slowly, but clearly, in her usual quiet manner. "I am Charumati," she said by way of introduction. The slowness of her words were not inflected in such a way that many people used when they thought they were communicating with someone of lesser intellect — that is, she didn't over-enunciate or speak in punctuated fragments. Rather, she spoke as she might with anyone else, albeit at a slower pace.

"Thank you for your help," she added, pausing at a corner before deciding to turn right. "Second Street," she said, gesturing down the road. She could only assume by his wild garb that he wasn't from around the City, and she knew that the bowls of the marketplace were easy to be lost in.

She led him to a small restaurant. The restaurant itself was connected to other buildings, but had a very quaint, very hybrid Earth Kingdom-meets-Fire-Nation aesthetic, despite serving Southern Water Tribe food. The exterior was a pale whitewash with bamboo panelling halfway up. The doorway had small little squares of cloth with the restaurant name painted in calligraphy, one word on each square. Inside, the walls were lined with booths, with a small bar area surrounding the chefs' preparation centre.

They were greeted with choruses of "Welcome!" from all the staff as a smiling waitress led them to a quiet booth in the back, inconspicuously isolated from others. This restaurant had once been a front for the Equalist movement, and Charumati was a well known customer. It was rare for her to come with a guest, though, and she could see the waitress raise an eyebrow in question. Charu smiled a little and shook her head. The waitress bowed in acknowledgement and left two menus on the table before retreating a respectful distance away to await a summons for the order.

Charumati selected the bench up against the wall; it allowed her to see the entrance of the restaurant and disallowed anyone walking behind her. She gestured for her companion to do the same and opened a menu. She pointed to a photograph in the menu of her favourite food item: thick, chewy udon noodles made out of seaweed, topped with thinly sliced portions of tender beef, served in a light broth and garnished with breadcrumbs, chopped green onions, and little wedges of lime on the side.    

"This is good," she informed him, uncertain if he could read the descriptions.

As the woman led him out of the alleyway, Nirav allowed himself to feel a tiny modicum of pride that he seemed to have correctly guessed the correct response to the elbow gesture. It was not often he got things right out here. The young hunter did not have enough fingers or toes to count the amount of times he had been run out of a village or even locked in a small room with bars because he had mistaken something someone had done or said to him. Perhaps he was finally getting a better grasp of things.

Nirav kept his eyes and ears open as his companion led him down a set of busy streets, taking him to some place with food if her words had been true and he had not misunderstood them. For many other strangers, losing their way might be an inevitability. But, for him, being lost was just an impossible state to find. Nirav would always know his way. Then she spoke again, slower, clearer. A name.

"Charumati," the hunter said slowly, rolling the word around his mouth. "I am Nirav. Of Wild-Mountains," he continued, his words still containing a halting quality. His throat was starting to ache a little. This was the first time he had spoken aloud for this long in some time.

By this time, this Charumati had steered him into a building. It's occupants yelled and he flinched at the unexpected sound, his hand flickering for an instant towards his blade. He arrested the motion swiftly, however. He did not think that this Charumati would lead him somewhere dangerous to eat.

She took them to a table, and the hunter nodded his approval at her choice of seats. Facing only entrance, backs to wall so none could appear from behind. He sat next to her, placing his pack gently on the ground so as not to startle the feline creature. As the new woman placed some things on the table, Nirav stared at the documents blankly. He could read a little. The scratchings on these things, however, made no sense to him at all. When Charumati pointed at a picture on the list of things before him, he shook his head. It mattered little. He could feed himself.

"I have no, err..." Nirav began, his expression scrunching up as he tried to recall the right word for the metal disks and such these people used for trade. When he failed, he instead repeated a motion he had seen often employed in the market: he raised his hand and rubbed his fingers across his thumb. "I, ah... for me, have, err, own... food I eat," he uttered with effort, reaching down to open the pack at his feet.

Suddenly, the hunter had a sneaking feeling in his gut that, when he opened his pack, proved right. The cat was asleep, it's belly much larger than it had been when he had put the beast in there, and snuggled up in the wraps he had kept his meal in. He gave a surprised blink. This was something he should have expected. And yet, he had not.

He pondered briefly if the creature would make for a good meal, then disregarded the thought. It would make the entire sequence of events leading up to this moment sort of... pointless. Instead, he muttered something in his own language and straightened up in his chair, looking at the picture Charumati had showed him.

"This is good?" Nirav repeated, a slight edge of sheepishness slipping into his voice.

Charumati hid a smile. The cat was curled up in Nirav's pack, purring contentedly with a belly full of what she presumed to be the man's food.

"Yes, it's good," she confirmed with a conversational air, pretending not to notice his sheepish tone. Those who prided themselves on strength — whether or not that pride was justified or no — generally disliked appearing foolish. She waved over the waitress who was giving her curious looks that Charumati ignored. "We will have two of the beef udon, please. Bring out all your extras, my friend here hasn't had the pleasure of your chef's favoured dish; also, two iced waters, and a pot of your green tea."

Once the waitress scurried away, Charumati turned a sharp gaze onto her new companion. Nirav of the Wild-Mountains, hm? It was a title befitting his appearance. She wondered where what he called the Wild-Mountains would be; she had explored the areas surrounding Republic City much when she was younger, but had never come across a people resembling this. He seemed baffled by the characters on the menu, and she guessed that he was unable to read it.

The waitress returned with the iced water, tea, complimentary soybeans, and two bowls of complimentary miso soup; she placed a bowl in front of each of them before scurrying away again.

"Miso soup," she said, as much for Nirav's benefit as her own. With deliberate motion — after all, she wasn't sure how Nirav's people ate — she raised the bowl to her lips and drank slowly. She assumed that he would follow suit, seeing as he had done so thus far.

She had been a little affronted when he slid into the booth next to her. She had expected him to take the booth across from her so they would be facing each other. She could see his reasoning though, as it mirrored her own: back to the wall, eyes on the only (known, at any rate) entrance. There was, of course, a secret passage in this building. She had frequently made use of it during Councilman Tarrlok's raids.

Setting down her bowl, she mimicked his gesture earlier, rubbing her index finger against her thumb. "Money," she supplied. Then she placed a hand on her chest. How to indicate the meal was on her? She paused in thought for a moment, then tried: "My money, your food."

She munched on the soybeans, picking them up with her fingers. She nudged the bowl closer to Nirav in silent indication he should have some. The soybeans had been steamed, then pan fried with a little garlic and just a hint of soy sauce and lime. They were salty and sour in a very pleasant manner (at least, she thought so).

Charumati felt comfortable in the silence that stretched between them. She was not in the habit of speaking much to strangers, and today had been full of talking. First Mei Ling before work, then Akane at lunch... in retrospect, she hadn't eaten out this much in a day in quite some time either. As comfortable as the silence was, however, she wanted to reach out to Nirav. He was clearly a nonbender, considering that he hadn't bothered to call up any element to fight at his command. She wondered how to communicate this to him, to tell him that she wanted to help him and be his friend and his guide.

As she drained the rest of her miso soup, the waitress returned with their order. The bowls were wafting steam and a delicious aroma upwards, and she pulled out a pair of high quality bamboo chopsticks from the tub at the end of the table, passing the container along to Nirav and motioning for him to do the same. She then took from the condiments placed in front of them — breadcrumbs and green onions — though there were also some bowls of kimchi, limes, salt and pepper, and spicy red sauce. She sprinkled her choices into her bowl, then dipped her chopsticks in and grabbed some of the thick, chewy noodles.

Charu raised the chopsticks to her lips and — SLRRRRRRRRRRP! — the noodles zipped into her mouth loudly. Her lips pressed tightly together to keep noodle and broth from spilling out, she offered a little smile. This was arguably the best (her opinion) or worst (strange peoples' opinion) part of eating udon. It was tradition to slurp in your noodles; chefs claimed the added air from slurping allowed the flavour to come through more strongly, but she'd never tested the claim. It was childish, she knew, especially for a quinquagenarian, but she just liked making a rude noise while she ate and it not being considered socially unacceptable.

A signal was given to the other woman and she returned to the table. Charumati spoke too quickly for the hunter to follow, but as she scurried away his mental logic tended toward the words being orders. Most likely for the food. Nirav noted that his companion was looking at him in what appeared to be an appraising manner, but he ignored it by instinct. He was used to being stared at by the majority of people. Most were offended by his looks. But this woman, no. He doubted that. He was not sure what she was thinking. That caused him concern.

The serving woman returned briefly to place some bowls of food and liquid on the table before hurrying away again. Nirav watched her intently as she left. She was... afraid? Hmm, maybe. Not of him. The glances were normal, but no fear, just uncertainty glimmered there. It was something about Charumati. She was known here. Perhaps she was someone who had an appetite that worried their hosts?

The young hunter observed his companion as she indicated what to do, drinking the soup. Nirav knew he should have been offended; he had no way to trade for this, no way to make things equal. A hand drifted to his chest, finding one of the many talismans that hung there and a slight downward curve tugged on the corner of his lips. This would reflect poorly on him. But things were different here. People were different. But he would find a way to repay.

In the end, he simply echoed his companion's movements in silence, consuming the soup and taking a handful of the beans into his mouth. His face changed very little as he ate, indicating nothing on his thoughts on them, saved for an initial scrunch of his features as the unexpected tang of the beans hit his tongue. He was unused to extra flavour.

As Nirav finished his soup, he blinked in surprise over the top of his bowl as the serving woman came back with more foodstuffs. There was more? How much did Charumati order? Bafflement crawled across his features as he stared down at the second meal. His companion gestured again and he followed suit, holding the thin sticks awkwardly in his hands.

For about a minute, the hunter wrestled with the implements, grunting with annoyance as the food slipped, slid and jumped around to avoid his attempts to consume it. He was not used to using more than a knife and his hands to eat with. As his companion gave an almighty slurp, Nirav sighed in exasperation, placing the sticks on the table and dipping his hands into the bowl. His head lowered as he shoveled a handful of the meal into his mouth, turning his head to look at Charumati. A rogue noodle trailed down his chin and, wanting to echo the etiquette as well as he could, he noisily sucked it into his maw.

Chewing vigorously, the young man was again surprised by the explosion of flavour he was experiencing. Spices and such were not a common indulgence of his. This was good. Excessive and unnecessary, but good. While he finished his mouthful, his hands found their way back into his pack, shifting through the things inside. Gently nudging the sleeping beast aside, Nirav removed two rolled up pelts from within, one a rich brown and the other an almost shimmering copper. They were good, too. Many good things could be made from them, sturdy things, even fine things. The beasts he had took them from were hard to kill, but well honoured. Their meat would feed him for some weeks, their claws and bones crafted into many useful items.

"My hunt. Your food," he said, offering a curt nod in appreciation. He placed them by Charumati's side and returned to his meal, filling his mouth with another handful of food and bobbing his head. This was good.

She kept her composure as Nirav dug into the udon with his hands, even though his actions drew stares from the waitstaff. She glared at them, and they averted their gazes and pretended to go back to work. Chopsticks were difficult to use for someone unfamiliar. That's why children had training chopsticks, with little bands at the top to help with the open-and-close action. Nirav suddenly slurped his noodle, and Charumati grinned broadly. Truth be told, she was more impressed by the fact he dipped his hands in steaming hot broth than she was perturbed by his lack of etiquette knowledge.

"Good, yes?" She pushed the little condiment dishes toward him. "Try." She pointed with her chopsticks to each saucer as she spoke. "Bread. Onion. Lime. Spicy cabbage. Spicy sauce." She hoped he knew what cabbages and sauce were. And the concept of spicy.

She nudged the napkins toward him, drawing one carefully from the container and slowly wiping her hands with it. Suddenly, Nirav disappeared into his pack. Eyebrow raised, the older woman observed him until he resurfaced, holding out an animal pelt.

"My hunt. Your food."

Repayment. Charu did not particularly enjoy fur, but she understood the importance of the gesture. She accepted the pelts, her face solemn. "Thank you," she said with a little bow of her head, placing the furs carefully next to her. They were beautiful. With the winter months coming, Charumati wondered if she should have the pelt turned into a stole or a hand warmer. It would be quite warm, she was sure

The rest of the meal was spent in very comfortable silence, each diner enjoying their meal thoroughly. When their dishes were clear, she gestured to the waitress, who brought over the dessert menu.

Charumati paused. Nirav seemed baffled at the concept of an entree versus an appetiser, so it would be safe to assume that he had no idea what dessert was either. Well. Time to rectify that, eh?

"Give me one order of green tea ice cream," she instructed, "split into two bowls."

Perhaps they knew her too well here, but no sooner than the words were out of her mouth than another waiter appeared, placing two orders of green tea ice cream in front of them. She arched an eyebrow, and the waitstaff laughed, gesturing that the second dessert was on the house. With a pseudo-exasperated sigh, she handed back the dessert menu and picked up a spoon, motioning for Nirav to do the same.

"Last one," she said, pointing to the ice cream. "Eat slow. Very cold."

She scraped her spoon gingerly across the top, the ice cream curling into an arc onto the spoon. She carefully put it in her mouth, and closed her eyes.

Green tea ice cream was probably her favourite after-dinner dessert. It was cold and slightly sweet, but naturally so. It wasn't so sweet and rich that it made one feel heavy, but rather it was light and more of a palette cleanser. It was a neutral sort of flavour, and almost inexplicably good.

After a few moments, she turned to Nirav. "Where are you staying?" she asked, then paused. "Your home? Here. Not the mountains."

The hot liquid lapped at his digits as the hunter scooped more noodles into his mouth. It hurt. But it was far from the worst pain he had experienced. None of the pain showed on his face, that would not do. This was fine. Better than using the sticks. Charumati was smiling, no bared teeth, lips lifting wide. Genuine, warm. He had got the custom right, then. He slurp more noodles into his mouth.

The woman nudged some of the little dishes toward him, pointing and naming them. Cautious after the unexpected attack of the beans on his tongue, Nirav raised each dish to his nose and smelled them. The bread he recognised, onions too. He took a nibble of the cabbage and was glad he had been wary. It was cabbage, but it tasted strange. Hot? Put it back. He dipped his little finger into the sauce and tried that instead. Mistake, big mistake. He rolled his tongue madly in his mouth, working the jaw and his usually stoic features scrunching up as he attempted to wash the taste away.

Muttering his thanks in his native tongue, Nirav left the small dishes where they where and ate the rest of his meal on it's own.

It did not last long. He was soon done, accepting the items his companion had pushed towards him. He watched, and copied as she wiped her hands. It took a few more until his hands were dry, but then, she knew how to use the sticks.

Another? An eyebrow rose up. How much more food? He had eaten enough. But... he did not want to be rude. After a strange back and forth between Charumati and the other, Nirav looked down at the new meal. It was... odd. But at least he knew how to use the spoon.

She spoke, indicating this was the last meal. To eat, slow. He stabbed the spoon experimentally into the bowl, lifting the food to eye level and taking another sniff before taking a tiny bite.

Cold. Not surprising, like the beans. Faint taste. He nodded approvingly. Yes, this was good. He continued to nibble on the cool food as Charumati spoke, using the mouthful to give himself time. Where he lived? He moved around, no fixed spot. He swallowed, scratching at missing chunks of his ear, where the long claw scar that split his face terminated.

"Mmm... Out. No, err... no walls. Under, eh, under sky," the young hunter uttered, gesturing at the heavens hidden by the roof of the building. "Open... ground? I-I move. No walls. Free." Nirav struggled to explain.

The thought of home lingered in his mind, a look of melancholy ghosting across his features. "Free," he repeated, a tint of sadness there now where there had been none before.

As if sensing something was wrong, the feline gave a quiet cry from the pack and jumped up into his lap. A long-fingered hand rested upon it's back. He felt the vibrations rumbling around it as it purred at him. Not much meat, fur matted. Not good for hunt. But still worthy of respect. All should be worthy of that.

"Beast is good. Better than, err... man." Nirav muttered quietly.

OOC: Not gonna lie, my brain did not register the fact that the broth would be pipping hot. I'm a danger. xD

Charumati took a thoughtful bite of ice cream, nodding to indicate her understanding of his words. "Better than man," she echoed, agreeing wholeheartedly. She glanced at the sleeping cat and smiled. Animals weren't inherently good or bad, they just were. People might assign a behavioural value to an animal based on how well they were able to comply to human desires and commands, but it was an arbitrary designation. No animal ever misbehaved by their own codes; a "naughty" cat may rip up furniture, but by their own reasoning that furniture served to trim excess off their claws and was therefore "good". Whereas man... man could choose, and did so frequently, to act contrary to their own interests as well as the wellbeing of others.

Charu worried about Nirav for this very reason. He was, clearly, more than capable in a one-on-one fight. However, if he continued to get into fights with benders in this city, in broad daylight, the police would throw his rear in jail faster than he could blink. He needed guidance, someone to teach him how to be safe and to provide a haven for him so he wouldn't get picked up on vagrancy charges. She wondered just how to communicate that she wanted to be his friend, to teach him the ways of the city if he wanted to learn. She tapped the end of her spoon against her chin as she thought.

"My home," she tried, speaking carefully. "You are welcome, if you like." Charumati glanced over to see if Nirav was following. "This city is confusing. You need help, yes?" She gestured to herself. "I can help."

OOC: lmfao xD I assumed it was an oversight but i rolled with it ;x i will be in the future wary of giving you hot foods to eat though, it's a wonder you haven't scaled yourself on your tea.

Fingers slid gently across the back of the beast in his lap, a mind lost in contemplation and the automatic motion of placing the spoon into his mouth with a fresh lump of the cold food that his companion had referred to as "iced cream". He felt eyes upon him, however, the itching of his palms pulling his mind from the mire of memories. A turned head, contemplative gaze, eating impliment applied to chin.

Charumati spoke her words, courteously slowing them, and keeping it short and simple. Welcome to her home. An offer of aid. What help did he need? He could hunt. He could fight. He could slip into shadow and escape if needed.

But arrogance was a barbed pit covered with leaves. Help. Yes. He did not understand things here that well. Even after some time wandering far from the Wild Mountains, the ways and customs of the world below baffled him. He had been in bad situations many times for it. 'Confusion'. The word was familiar. Unclear, uncertain.

Very apt.

He pondered for a moment on why the offer had been leveled. A trap? No. She was a more skilled combatant than him and could deal with him at any point she wished. He had no items of worth, at least, none that she would understand. After a few more seconds passed, he nodded his head towards her.

"So it is," Nirav replied in confirmation. "Yes. Help. Many, err, thank."

He still had some of his supplies outside the walls of the city, but nothing that would not wait or he could not collect later. Absentmindedly, his free hand went to a stone, jug shaped talisman. It symbolised guidance and understanding. Nirav was beginning to feel as if he would need as much assistance as he could get.

My mum and dad have an old fashioned wood burner in their home. I once touched it with my bare hand because my brain forgot that fire + metal = HOTHOTHOT. True story. xD

Charumati breathed an almost imperceptible sigh of relief; he had understood her. She beamed at his acceptance, both pleased by it and a little proud of herself for communicating her intent clearly.

"So it is," she echoed with a smile.

Once they had both finished their ice cream, Charumati flagged down their server and settled the bill. The waitress seemed to want to ask questions, but after looking again at Charumati's expression thought better of it. Once she received her change, she left an extra gratuity for the server, along with a small, secret token.

"Let's go," she said to Nirav, motioning that they should head out the door. As they left, Charumati gave a quick, surreptitious glance back at their waitress, who had just picked up her tip. Their eyes met for a brief second and understanding passed between them. Satisfied, Charumati followed Nirav back out onto the streets.

"I'm sure you have other things here," she said, forgetting herself a moment and speaking less carefully. "So why don't we go and pick them up before we head to my place?" Then she paused, remembering. "Ah."

She pointed to Nirav's pack, which contained a very wide-eyed, curious cat, who seemed content to stay bundled up against the autumn evening chill. "More things?" she asked. "Where are?"

After they had retrieved the remainder of his things, Charumati lead the way to her modest apartment in the Dragon Flats District. Like the other apartments in the area, hers was a second floor walk-up, located above a little privately own book store. In the past, it had doubled as a secret training area for new Equalist recruits, but after the raid in the district they had moved the training area elsewhere; of course, since Amon's exposure and subsequent disbanding of the Equalists, the relocated training area had also fallen into disuse.

Unlike other apartments, Rohana had a spare bedroom. It was mainly there for when her parents decided to visit her, which, as they got on in years, was very rare. She didn't particularly want to move to a smaller space, though, and dutifully aired out the room and changed the sheets as if her parents would suddenly arrive on her doorstep at any given time.

A lucky habit.

She led the way to the bedroom. "Sleep here." she gestured to a comfortable bed large enough for two. It was a modern-style Republic City bed, rather than a traditional futon. She pointed to a room across the hall. "Bathroom." She paused, then repeated the word. "Bathroom?" The upward inflection of the word signaled a question: did Nirav know what a bathroom was? She was almost certain the answer would be no.

This... this would be an interesting thing to mime out, she thought to herself.


OOC: Sorry about the minor godmoding, I wanted to get them to the apartment; feel free to fill in the blanks as appropriate for Nirav. I hope your internet gets better soon

He had been taken in by strangers before. Not often; many were wary of his appearance, fear in their eyes as they looked on him. But the world was big and had many souls. In general, the balance was more in favour of anger, recrimination. Sharp blades and threats. They feared for life, their own and their families. They saw a strange man in strange dress with strange face and well used tools. Nirav understood. He, too, was wary of strange things. Strange folk.

Charumati. She stepped in to save the beast, as he had. Yet saw to the wounds of their foes. He would not have done this. She knew him little, yet offered him shelter and food. Yet she fought well, accustomed to violent actions. She was strange. Nirav knew not what to make of her. Yet.

She gestured, indicating they should leave. The young hunter nodded, shifting from his seat and towards the exit. His eyes took in the approaching girl, the exchange between his host and her. He shrugged it away. Not his concern. Her business.

Word spoken quickly caused brow to furrow, Nirav's eyes watching his companion's lips as they flickered through the unfamiliar language. Charumati seemed to realise he had not understood her and slowed her words into actual meaning, gestured to his pack to solidify his comprehension. Nirav nodded lightly.

"Yes. One thing," he responded, holding up a single digit before loping off to where he had hidden it. They got there in short time; he had stashed it away behind some metal cylinders full of waste, far from prying eyes, as he had entered the more densely populated area. After a moment of stooping, Nirav pulled out a rough, rolled up piece of fabric. Something rattled faintly inside. He offered no explanation, simply nodding to his host to lead the way.

They reached Charumati's abode. Up some stairs. He nodded approvingly, his light steps making no sound as the two ascended. He liked being high up when he made camp.

The inside was clean, well tended. Nirav sniffed the air. The lack of earthy scent was unnerving; he was used to the world of dirt and leaves and lonely howls. Part of the change, he supposed. Part of the challenge of adapting.

His host showed him to his place. A large bed awaited but he ignored it, instead allowing his eyes to scan the walls and ceiling. The small animal that still resided in his pack made a meowing sound, so Nirav shrugged his pack off and placed it on the floor next to the doorway. Then more words, a single word he was unfamiliar with in a question. His eyebrow raised and his eyes followed her finger as she pointed. Taking it upon himself to investigate, the wrapped object he retrieved from the street still under his arm, he poked his head into the room and saw the bowl of the privy.

"Oh!" Nirav said in surprise, uttering something in his own tongue before returning back to Charumati's side. "Yes. I know," he concluded. His knowledge of the instrument in the room had been hard won. He did not like to think about that day.

Clearing his throat, Nirav and his host stood there awkwardly for a moment. The hunter slipped back into the room that had been named as his and unrolled the object he had been carrying on the bed. He picked it up to show his companion. It would be rude to hide it; she had taken him into her home, after all.

It was a composite bow, lovingly crafted. He held it reverently, sliding his fingers across the intricate carvings in the wooden and the horn of the body. He met the eyes of Charumati.

"The, err... the metal rule ones," he said, rotating his finger in the air to indicate the strange contraptions the people got about in through the sky. "They don't like tool. They, um, they think..." Nirav trailed off as he tried to find the right word. He thumped a fist against his chest. "They think, err, fight. But it is tool... for me."

His eyes returned to the bow as he replaced it on the square of fabric, rolling it back up and placing it near the pack. The little beast scratched it's claws gently against it, but Nirav was confident in the blanket's toughness.

Looking up at his host, Nirav felt unsure of what to do next. So he simply waited for Charumati to do something first.

OOC: That's fine! And my internet seems to be working okay now, thank you!

Charu breathed a sigh of relief. Koh be praised, there was no need to toilet train a grown man. Having had declined procreating (having no interest in the act, or in anyone in that manner), she wasn't even sure she'd be up to the task. But, no matter. It wasn't necessary, and Thank. Koh.

The cat, seemingly keen on being indoors, wound itself around her ankles. Charu let out a small exclamation, scooping the cat up into her arms and rubbing her cheek against its face. "What a cutie baby," she cooed; it was a side of her no one got to see. Charumati loved cute things. Baby animals, frills and bows, little figurines, cute romance comics... it was an interest that one would not expect from a woman of her age or of her demeanour. The cat purred and licked the tip of her nose.

Charu eyed the composite bow with appreciation, putting down the cat and leaning forward to peer at it. "It's beautiful," she said, meaning every word. She refrained from touching it; as much as she wanted to snatch it up and examine the piece in detail, another man's weapon was sacrosanct. If anyone touched her glaive without her permission, they'd find it sticking out of their innards.

As the cat pawed at the re-wrapped weapon, having no such reservation, Charumati straightened and her brusk manner returned. "Sleep in two hours," she announced; it was almost eight in the evening, and Charu liked to be in bed by ten. "Try the bed. If uncomfortable, use blankets —" here, she lifted them "— on the floor."

She motioned for Nirav to follow her and she lead the way to her modest kitchen. It was an open area, not separated from the living room by a wall. From the rafters, strands of garlic and onion were hung to dry. It was very obviously, even if one were unfamiliar with the concept of an indoor kitchen, a place where food was cooked with skill.

"Kitchen," she declared, then made her way to a large box with a silver handle. "Ice box," she named it, and pulled on the handle; inside were containers of food, and various raw ingredients like fish and meat. There was a glass bottle of milk, some fresh squeezed guava juice, and eggs in the door. She opened a large cupboard. "Pantry." Inside was more food, tinned and sealed in more containers.

"If you are hungry, eat." She picked up a silver tin and pointed to the picture. "Picture shows what's inside." She grabbed a can opener and demonstrated how to open a can. "Carefully," she said, pointing out the sharp edges of the lid once the can opener had done its job, and gingerly lifted the top to show the contents: peaches, just like in the picture. "If you take too much, put away." She demonstrated again, opening another cupboard to show jars, and various bowls with lids attached. She selected a glass jar, poured the peaches in, sealed the jar, then stuck the jar in an empty space in the ice box.

She then showed him the utensil drawer: forks, spoons, knives, and yes, chopsticks. "Use these. No hands. Too messy." She pointed specifically at the chopsticks. "Not these." She grinned, hoping that it was apparent she understood that Nirav had struggled with them.

The tour of the kitchen complete, she grabbed a few books off of a bookshelf in the living room. "Tomorrow," she said. "Training." She held up the books; they were little children's books she had purchased for the cute illustrations. What a lucky break! "Language," she specified.

Nirav's eyebrow raised slightly at his host's strange change in demeanor as the feline snaked about her ankles. She went from cool, calm woman to cooing mother in almost an instant it seemed. He eyed the animal as it tasted the skin of Charumati's nose. He could not see it, whatever it was that made people treat them as if they were infant children.

When she turned her attention onto his bow, however, he saw in her face the same admiration he felt when he gazed upon the tool. Nirav was not one to give himself over to pride, but when it came to this bow he was as close as he could get to it. He had crafted it with his own hands. Even his father had nodded in approval; something that in itself was an event more rare than the Quilted Sky. "So it is," he muttered fondly in reply to her words. Beautiful. Yes, that was a good word for it.

Then a return to stern expression. Sharp words were spoken, and the young hunter was reminded of his father once more. He spoke in similar tones when he was teaching Nirav and his brothers. A motion to the bed, then the floor; an option. Well, he was never going to use that thing in the first place. Too... fluffy.

Another gesture and the hunter followed his host. She pointed around her home, in a room that was made to store food and prepare meals. He nodded whenever she made a querying glance towards him to indicate he understood. Most of these things were simply more... modernised versions of things that his people used. He took careful note of the tool for opening the metal cans. He would of just used he kukri on them, but he begrudgingly acknowledged that this would most likely make less mess of her house.

Nirav squinted at the almost sickeningly colourful books Charumati held up. Books were not something his people used, but he knew what they were now. The men he had worked with on the boat had several they were intent of trading for money. She said it was training, for language. To help him speak. Communicate.

"I, err... I hunt," he started slowly, biting on his lip as he tried to explain his thoughts. Yes, learning language was important. "I will, umm, hunt. Bring hunt here. Trade for language."

It would also let him be alone. Though grateful, he had not lived with anyone before. Even back home, most of his nights were spent away from the others.