Quiet Fury [Duma/Perun B Support]

[Perun]

OoC: Takes Place just after Fortune's Folly

Ic: It had been some time since the Ilian Reaper had ran off. Perun had made sure that his friend was okay, checked on the children, been healed by the little blue haired priest, and helped the inn keeper deal with the fallout of the fight a bit. Now, despite the help of Remus and the magic of his little god woman saint priest, he was incredibly tired. He slowly dragged his feet across the grass to a spot a bit away from the inn. Most were off doing things they though useful, but Perun, he merely wanted to rest for a moment. They had all fought, but he had flown, been burned, and almost diesd a number of times more than he would have liked. They had all been through the same terror of Chernabog, but as he could never live the fight through their eyes, it was hard for the big man to imagine they'd felt the fire as harshly as he.

So, the lumbering giant made his way to one of the sections of grass that hadn't been caught in the sword's blaze, and turning on his heel, cascaded to the ground, to lie on his back. He stretched his arms out, and let his heavy lids close over his eyes. Working his breath in through his nose but out through his mouth like he did when he was aiming his bow, Perun attempted to let go of the anger that festered like a wound to the arm. The priest had healed the nast wound to his shoulder, though it still hurt; but Perun's deepest wound was to his pride. For that there was a fire in his chest.

[Duma]

Duma’s body was healed but his spirit was fractured. The swordsman spent the last few hours scavenging the corpses of the dead assassins for any sign of who sent them. He found a note of interest and pocketed it, before he kicked their bodies into a shallow grave. The sacean swordsman was treated with more grace and dignity then the two other rats. The green haired swordsman managed to make a pit and fill it with wood and annoint the body with oil. He recited any Sacean prayer he knew as Duma did not know what tribe this man originally came from. The raven haired swordsman was burned with all of his belongings. Only when the flames fullly died down would he return to bury what remained. But for now he was satisfied with what was done. His body was aching for rest but Duma was not yet ready to enter the inn.

The inn owner might have some choice words to say about Duma’s appearance. A majority of green clad swordsman was grey from the dust and ash of the pyre. The bottoms of his outfit an unspeakable mess of mud, dirt, and grasses. Something, about the way their former enemies acted nagged at the swordsman. Something about how they specifically targeted Remus and the kids. He wasn't sure why. But he knew he would figure it out in time.

He spied a familiar fuzz of Orange off in the distance. The swordsman sighed softly and approached him. He took a seat just out of arms reach from the Orange giant. Duma was close enough to be heard but far enough so as not to invade the Giant’s personal space.

“Hey Perun. You mind if I sit here?”

[Perun]

The giant's pace was not felt long, the fire was not quelled. The lithe long haired swordsman asked Perun if he could sit. Perun did not open his eyes, instead he just kept them closed attempted to tell where the swordsman was by the sound of his voice. He was due... Clearly he was standing to Perun's... He was near Perun. The orange giant said, "Yes, Doom-ha. Sit." Then the big Ilian returned to his breathing, this time making sure to alternate. In the nose, putting air to the flame of his rage, out the mouth, taking the energy from his anger. Then in the mouth, and out the nose. After enough breaths, he could calm himself, he could be a void instead of a flame. Finally, he opened his eyes.

It was odd, looking up at the clouds. They were so calm. The sky made no effort to reflect the carnage left on the earth's surface. The clouds were soft, tranquil as they drifted by. One of the clouds looked vaguely like a lightningbolt, and ironically it was the slowest of all of the drifting homes of his gods. In his people's faith the gods made their home high in the sky, up on the clouds. The lightning came down to Earth when a god decided to walk among mortals, a god intervened, or a god had grown angry. IF that was true, Perun thought, there'd never be any lightning.

After enough time breathing that Perun felt as if he could almost stay free of anger, he finally said to Duma, "Doom-ha, are you alright? Not wounds, but inside?"

[Duma]

Duma sat there for a moment with his knees pressed up close to his chest. He had his arms resting over his knees in an attempt to keep everything held together. He kept his gaze focused on the fire off in the distance. Perun on the other hand was simply lying there breathing. Perun’s breathing wasn’t exactly quiet. But the swordsman didn’t say anything about it. He didn’t say anything at all. His mind was too focused on figuring out why this whole thing “felt” wrong. It was as if he knew the answer.. Or as if the answer was something very obvious but he couldn’t see it. Perhaps it was just because his body was tired. Or perhaps it was the shock of it all starting to manifest itself. Whatever it was.. It caused him to shiver. He clenched his splintered hands into fists in an attempt to stop the shaking. In an attempt to focus his mind and body in something other than the events that transpired. But the orange Giant had asked him a question he asked if Duma was alright. No. I’m not.

“No.. Perun. Duma is not alright.” The shaking started to intensify. He took in a deep breath and let it out with a large sigh. For some reason he could feel tears starting to form in his eyes, he looked up in an attept to stem them back. He wasn’t sure why he felt this bad. Damn it. What the hell is it. The swordsman had stared death in the face before but it never affected him like this.

“I.. feel like trash.”

[Perun]

Hmm, the green haired swordsman sounded particularly down. Not that the giant could blame him. His own pride had taken a fierce beating, and it left his brain with a permanent overhang of melancholy that he couldn't seem to force out. Even staring up at the sky couldn't clear his mind, it was overshadowed by the fight against the Ilian Reaper, the horror of loss that had permeated in his brain with each gust of fire summoned up by the villains wicked blade. Now, the fight was over, and the monster who had killed one of their companions roamed free, and nearly all in their traveling band went without answers. It was a grim thought, and it wouldn't be hard to guess that it was one they were all wrapping their heads around.

Perun slid a hand behind his head, placing it between his thick tangle of orange hair and the soft green that had gone unsinged. The fur that had been thick on both of his hands had been burned off, along with part of his beard, by the contact with the flaming weapon of the Reaper. If he had to guess, the burned and red spots of his flesh as well as the hairless patches in what was usually a consistent pelt likely made him look like one of the performers the outside people called clowns.

"Doom-ha, are you knowing why Perun is be screaming in bettle?" Perun shifted his back and hips, digging into the dirt just beneath him. Then he continued, "Is not only being for being intimidate enemies. Is so for Perun to let fury out. When Perun is being feel something like anger, or sadness, and Perun is not being able to say freely how, he holds in chest. Then in bettle, Perun is being letting out bellow of fury. And is keeping Perun's head free."

[Duma]

Duma contemplated the words of wisdom from Perun. The big man stated that he screams and roars in battle in order to release his frustrations. Duma didn’t know that. Here he thought Perun screamed and roared in battle in order to intimidate his opponents. It was an effective strategy for the big guy. Duma was quiet for a while. He was not accustomed to screaming and yelling out his frustrations in battle. He had been trained not to let his emotions get the better of him in battle. He had been trained to push aside the feelings of anger, joy, sadness, ect, when swinging his blade. Emotions are distractions in battle. Distractions cloud judgement and lead to death.

“Here I thought you yelled to scare weaker warriors.” He fixed his gaze back into the floor. He then shook his head.

“I envy you Perun. You can scream and yell and feel better. I cannot seem to do that. My head keeps thinking about the battle. It plays it over and over. As if I had missed something important.. I cannot figure out what.. Or why.” He sighed and stamped his foot.

“I have been trained not to show my emotions for a variety of reasons. In battle a swordsman must keep a clear head. He has to push away, forget, or ignore anything that would.. Cripple him. Cloud his judgement. My.. style.. Tells me to ignore this.. To push past what had happened.. In order to focus on the next move. And yet.. I cannot.. Help it. Something in here..” The green clad swordsman pointed to his head.

“And in here.” He pointed to his chest. Specifically out towards his heart.

“Tell me something.. Is not right.” He glanced at Perun.

“Something was not right about the way those men came for us. Why they went after Remus and the children like that.. Men like those.. were not common bandits Perun.” He shook his head again. Then put his hand to his forehead, closed his eyes, and breathed deeply. He didn’t move from this position and continued speaking.

“Men like those.. They usually come back. And.. that.. Worries me.”

[Perun]

Without shifting his weight too much, the massive Ilian placed his meaty hands behind his shaggy hair. He looked up at the clouds that slowly moved across the the sky. Without the swirl of powdery snow overhead, it was much easier to make out the folds and bends of every one of the floating white puffs of air. None carried any darkness today, they were all tranquil. However, soon some would produce rain, and the sky would be less pleasant. It was the natural way, tranquility gave way to chaos, and the other way around. The sky wasn't the only one who went through the cycle of overlapping stages. The giant was calm as the soft clouds above, but there was no telling when the Thunderbolts would return overhead, or when the Thunderbolt would be back on the ground.

“I envy you Perun. You can scream and yell and feel better. I cannot seem to do that. My head keeps thinking about the battle. It plays it over and over. As if I had missed something important.. I cannot figure out what.. Or why. I have been trained not to show my emotions for a variety of reasons. In battle a swordsman must keep a clear head. He has to push away, forget, or ignore anything that would.. Cripple him. Cloud his judgement. My.. style.. Tells me to ignore this.. To push past what had happened.. In order to focus on the next move. And yet.. I cannot.. Help it. Something in here.. and in here. Tells me something is not right.”

Perun sat up, and looked over at his thinner friend. "Doom-ha, pur-haps is not best for Perun to argue with Doom-ha's style. But Doom-ha should not be being hide from emotions. Is wrong to keep them in. If Doom-ha can not use his emotions in bettle, then you should talk of them." Then Perun stroked his beard, and rolled his arms backward. "Yes, Perun is be thinking you are to be right. Those men who were coming were too strong, and they were being after O-win and Ami-lyuh. This is being dangeroose."

[Duma]

"Perun.. once again you are a veritable fountain of wisdom. Talk.. of them. Yes.. I suppose I should." The swordsman responded to Perun. He took a deep breath and tried to calm himself. It was difficult for him to talk of his emotions. Mostly because when he got right down to the nitty gritty of what he really wanted to do was cry. And act that made him look weak. He had so many frustrations hidden under the persona of calmness that he wore. There were things he wanted to speak about. Things about his past. Loss. His family. Things that he had thought he had buried under new memories of traveling and meeting other people. The uncomfortable feeling he felt regarding the situation with Remus and the Children.. this grief.. confusion.. frustration.. it all.. seemed to mesh together and forge itself into something worse. He could feel it physically. It was like a large lump in his chest that slowly made it's way upwards towards his throat.

"Talking of them is difficult too. It.. makes me feel vulnerable... weak. Even though I know.. I will probably feel a million times better if I do. But, I can't. I.. can't be weakened in a time like this. Not while we have people.. children to protect." He shook his head.

"It is not just the issue with Reums and the assassins that are bothering me though. It like.. that.. issue is merely the first layer." He sighed.

"I know myself.. I know that I will do something stupid.. and make it worse." He raised his hands to rub his eyes.

"I think.. I've already started.. I'm sure you have noticed.. I have not been sleeping. Or rather.. I have not been sleeping well."