Where I Once Called Home (Aria/Ascher)

[Ascher]

Ascher inhaled deeply, letting the crisp air and the invigorating scent of pine. Bern wasn't nearly as cold as Ilia, but the closer one became to the mountains... there was a certain clarity that came over the senses. He had become spoiled, in a sense, by the bounty of nature that had been his lot over the past several years. The blood and battle was unfortunate, certainly, but the mage could most certainly understand the appeal of eking out a living in the forests that lay to the north of Bern's mountain lake.

The man couldn't help but smile as he turned back toward the cook-fire, watching the tongues of flame leaping upward. It hadn't been all bad, these past few years. Ah! The tone of surprise when the lads had realized that the Academy graduate not only knew how to cook, but knew how to cook well. Sparks flew as he idly prodded the flames with a stick, seeking to ensure an even distribution of heat - occasionally lending a bit of magical aid from the wind spirits when a finer touch was needed. His robes were safely ensconced in the nondescript traveler's satchel that lay near his bedroll, but the battered journal that served as his tome was secured in a leather hip-carrier that clearly identified him as a mage. An errant mage likely wouldn't be worth the effort for a roving band of raiders. An Academy-trained mage, on the other hand, likely carried goods worth having - or would otherwise be worth a pretty ransom to one who could catch and hold them. So, it was traveler's clothes for him. It wasn't as if that hadn't been his lot during the occupation, after all. Frankly, it felt more natural than the finery that was expected of him at the Imperial Academy.

Ascher brushed an errant strand of hair behind his ear, mentally resolving to retie his hair catch as soon as the venison was cooked through. He wouldn't usually have hunted such a large animal for his evening meal, but luck had favored him as he waited near the lake - and the spirits had guided the wind-blade home. It was likely a blessing, given the nature of his business. His experience with wyverns suggested that they could be quite aggressive and unruly, particularly while hungry. Admittedly, the mage had never seen an untamed member of the species - or one outside of military control, for that matter - and that had been many years ago, back when Bern had moved into Sacae in the first iteration of the border wars... but it still paid to be cautious. And so, he had portioned off a fair amount of meat for the beast when the rider arrived - just in case. From what he recalled from the king's initial wars of aggression, they were usually hungry.

Part of him felt like a fool for not simply making a clean break. Even if he lacked the gold or interest to purchase new furnishings and all the little quality-of-life improvements that had been prevalent before the occupation, Ascher thought himself more than capable of... ah, who was he kidding? He could do passable work for the lower class, but he had hardly turned out to be the master carpenter that his father was. There really were other things that he could have spent his hold on... and yet, he found himself here, waiting for the wyvern and rider that would help him bring what little remained of his home back to Bern.

And listening for the wind.

( Aria )

[Aria]

Another day. Another delivery. Another potential pay day. The sky haired rider mused to herself. The job was easy enough. A simple delivery of a various assortment of items from one section of the country to the other. The rider had the small assortment of goods.. which she suspected may have been books.. locked securely in her saddle bag. Aria was glad the delivery route brought her close to home. It had been a while since she last visited the family farm, and she was curious to see how everyone was doing. She especially wanted to see how much little Julius had grown. If he had been adapting well to his surrogate mother.. if he was eating well... if he missed her, Chewy, and Liam. She sighed softly. 

The rider peered her head off the side of her wyvern towards the ground below. The rider maintained a tight grip on her reins and kept her legs pressed firmly onto the saddle sides. She was securely strapped into her saddle and knew she wouldn't fall off. But, the ever present fear of 'what if' loomed in the back of her head. The rider couldn't see much of anything through the pointed tree tops of the pine forest. She then pulled herself back into a standard riding position and spoke to her wyvern. 

"You see anything?" She shouted. 

The wyvern talked back to the rider, in the way wyvern's do. The wyvern let out a short but audible grunt. But then the wyvern made another slightly higher pitched grunt followed by a small chattering like noise. 

"No. You hold it in until we land." The rider responded back. The wyvern responded back with a different type of call, one that sounded like an annoyed whine. 

"Don't need you accidentally letting one rip on top of the client's head." Wyverns couldn't talk like people. But, Aria knew her big red wyvern, long enough to understand almost all of her various noises. Before the wyvern could argue back with another series of groans and grunts Aria lightly whipped the reins. The rider had picked up on the faintest scent of smoke. She pulled the reins back some and pressed forward with her legs. Chewy stopped in the air and flapped her wings in a hover. The wyvern rider looked around and spotted a faint smoke trail coming up from a small clearing in the woods. 

"That.. might be our client." The rider pointed to the smoke trail. The wyvern called back in agreement. With another motion of her legs, the pair of them flew off in the direction of the smoke. 

[Ascher]

For those unfamiliar with such things, listening to the wind is an imminently respectable passtime that only occasionally drives mages utterly insane. According to Sage Arndelf - affectionately known as "Old Man Arn" by his former students at the Imperial Academy - it heightened one's ability to perceive minute changes in sound and wind flow. Ascher had not precisely been his most attentive pupil at the time, but he had certainly learned the value of the man's teachings in hindsight. When the forest around the mage grew still, with nary a sound to be heard but the distant howling of the mountain wind... it was a sign that there were predators about. And while wyverns were a great many things to humankind, to the denizens of the forest... they were undeniably predators.

It was these signs that the long-haired mage knew would speak of the approach of wyvern and rider, long before he ever caught sight of their silhouettes through the tall stands of pine. When naught but the crackle of the fire deigned to grace the man's ears, he knew that either the delivery was nearing arrival... or that life was about to become a great deal more interesting than he would prefer. Depending on how his trials and tribulations amused Ashera, it could very well be both. If he'd kept possession of the tome he'd been issued in Sacae all those years ago, he might've been able to take to the air - or, at least, use one of the trees as an anchor to climb up and see what approached on the horizon. But, it was long past time to have given up such thoughts. He was no soldier now, only a humble mage looking to rebuild his life now that the Senate had assumed power over his homeland.

The long-haired man pushed himself to his feet as he began to hear wingbeats, wiping his palms on his trousers. It certainly sounded like a wyvern. Pegasi were gentler in their stroke, the feathers of their wings almost brushing the wind rather than seeking to force it downward. A wyvern, though... wyverns were more forceful in their movements. Ascher reached out a hand, seeking to feel the currents of wind about him - a task he had once been set by the Old Man in the days before the Bandit War. Out-of-practice as he was, he could almost hear Arndelf's wry chuckle as his efforts came to naught. All, well. That was why he had returned to the Academy, was it not? Listening to the wind was hardly an appropriate passtime for a carpenter. It was time to pick up where he had left off, all those years ago.

[Aria]

Nothing's flying towards us. That was a good sign. While the wilds of the forest and mountain ranges were familiar to her, they were still home to some nasty things. Wild wyverns, bandits, baels, and a whole other hosts of other wild animals, that might decide to pick a fight with a girl, and her steed. Started to lower Chewy's decent into the woods. She needed to find the right spot to land so as to avoid a severe case of "pine branches being where they shouldn't be." Or as her brother once colorfully put it "a severe case of pine ass." And no one likes pine ass. 

She circled around the campfire area for a moment. Chewy let out a wyvern shout to let anyone within a reasonable radius know that they were there. To which, Aria facepalmed at. There was the possibility that this camp didn't belong to a client. But, it might have belonged to a bandit who was making camp. Or worse a poacher. And this big red idiot just alerted the whole forest to their presence, instead of doing what they were supposed to do. And just land, as quietly as possible. Aria then double face palmed at herself, because Chewy was red. And thus she stuck out like a sore thumb in both the blue sky, and in the green pine forest. The rider sighed and figured she would have to deal with the problem as it came. She found a suitable spot to land her behemoth of a beast and guided her towards it. 

"Easy.. Easy.." Aria guided Chewy down. 

"Feet down.. tail curled... slowly.." The duo landed on the ground with a soft thud. Chewy flapped her wings a few more times when she was on the ground, then folded them onto her back. A fair amount of dirt and dust had been kicked up by the activity. Fortunately, the rider expected this. She had her mouth and nose covered with her gloved hand. The wyvern stretched a bit while on the ground. 

"Good Job, Chew."

[Ascher]

The mage dropped to one knee as a roar echoed through the pines, glancing sharply toward the north at the sudden and harsh reminder of wyverns' position as the local hegemonic species. That was... unexpected. To the best of his admittedly-limited knowledge, there wasn't a clearing of sufficient size for one of their number to set down in that direction. At least, not one near his makeshift campsite. Ascher wasn't apprised of the particulars of landing, precisely, but generally understood that trees looked an awful lot like spears when viewed from above - and common sense recommended avoiding spear-like objects when landing, unless one was assured of avoiding them... or were starved for other viable options.

After a moment's hesitation - and against his better judgement - the scarred mage kicked a small hole in the log that served as his seat, tucking his satchel into the opening as a hasty defense against cursory inspection. In a few moments, the fire had been smothered and the venison - oh, sweet Ashera, the venison - had been left to the tender mercies of whatever forest-dwelling creature would arrive to lay claim to it. Ascher could not, in good conscience, sit in relative peace when someone whom he had hired - and who was therefore present because of him - could be in danger. At the least, the man felt it his duty to go out and meet the wyvern and rider. Or, at the least, verify that it wasn't the person who he was waiting to meet. If all was well... perhaps they would make it back in time to save the venison. If something had gone awry... he was honor-bound to render aid. Besides, what if they had his books?!

The long-haired man flipped his hood up before beginning to make his way in the general direction of the roar. Ascher was a competent woodsman - if not sufficiently so to live alone in such an environment entirely unassisted - but he labored under no delusions regarding how his skills stacked up against professional hunters or any long-term residents of the area who might have turned bandit. In fact, even the rider's skill at surviving in the forests would likely outpace his own... but moving silently? That was part-and-parcel of a wind mage's repertoire. Sure, wind-blades were flashy and massive walls of air were comforting when faced with a literal rain of arrows... but it was the subtle things which most pupils overlooked. And it was those same subtle things at which the wind excelled.

[Aria]

"Alright, don't move." Aria spoke to her wyvern. The rider slowly dismounted off her ride. She stretched for a moment, grabbed her lance, then walked up towards Chewy's face. The wyvern pressed her head towards the rider. And Aria responded with a few well deserved chin scratches.  She also gave Chewy a few scraps of jerky that she had tucked away in her pocket. The duo had been up in the sky flying for hours. 

"Good job. Chew. Now go use the trees." Aria pointed towards a random direction in the woods. The wyvern gleefully obliged and moved off towards the pine forest. Somehow the big bulky thing could maneuver though the trees without disturbing them too much. The wyvern though didn't wander away too far from her partner though. They were within eyesight of one another. While Chewy was off fertilizing a patch of ground, Aria was left alone for the moment. The rider was dressed up in what could be considered her "traditional" garb. Which consisted of a pair of good slacks. And tunic. But an observer couldn't see that since it was mostly hidden underneath some old, but well maintained, mismatched armor. The armor also served to hide the finer parts of her delicate female frame. Her hair was braided up and tucked away under a helmet. 

She peered at the sky for a moment, just so she could get her bearings. She could smell the smoke in the air. They were about two minutes away from their intended target. Perfect. She stretched again and did her best to shake the jelly out of her legs. Chewy finished her business and returned to Aria's side. The wyvern sensed that someone was coming. It was difficult to make it out with the scent of smoke in the air. But, the wyvern could smell someone else nearby. She tilted her head towards the direction of the person she sensed. 

[Ascher]

It took Ascher a fair few moments to get his bearings, slowly meandering his way through the underbrush in the general direction of the wyvern's cry. As one might have expected, it was the wyvern itself that he saw first - the massive, red creature stood out rather sharply against the dull, green-grey stands of beech and pine. The mage took a moment, eyeing the beast, before finally letting out a slow exhalation and murmured prayer of thanks to Ashera. He could hardly see a wild or untamed wyvern tolerating saddlebags and a girth strap for any period of time, which suggested that it wasn't likely to try and eat him. At least, it wasn't likely to try and eat him immediately.

The hooded man slowly pushed himself back down the side of the small embankment he'd used to conceal his approach, before kneeling at the bottom - taking a moment to brush himself off before rising. He still hadn't the faintest idea where the rider and their mount had managed to land... but then, that was probably why Bern hadn't had him trying to land wyverns. To each their own, as it were.

Ascher still made something of an effort to remain quiet as he approached, pausing behind a stand of trees as he caught sight of what he presumed to be the wyvern's rider. Relatively average height... what he presumed to be a lean build, based purely on the shape of the armor plates... a handful of materials and colors, none of which immediately stood out to the man as being representative of a mercenary band or particular group of bandits. This was promising. Based on the name he'd been given, he was expecting a woman... but then, men were hardly the only gender that could come in all shapes and sizes. Besides - clever use of armor and padding can adjust one's apparent size on a whim. Such a practice might even be considered helpful, for easing the physical burden of flying.

After some consideration - and a heartbeat or two of self-doubt - the scarred mage carefully made his way forward, deliberately ensuring that he brushed some leaves and snapped a twig during his approach. No sense in getting speared just to surprise someone that he'd asked to meet him. Both hands empty, the man came to a stop a respectful distance away from the rider and her mount. In mage's terms, that meant far enough that they couldn't rush him and plant a spear in his chest... but also not so far that he'd have to hold a spell for an inordinate amount of time before they came within range, should hostilities be the prevailing course of the evening. It was a knife-edge to balance, most certainly - but gauging such things had proven necessary.

After a moment, the hooded man cleared his throat - pitching his voice to carry across the intervening space. It was an orator's trick, one used by drill sergeants and Senators alike to ensure that they needn't result to shouting merely to make themselves heard. Unless, of course, they had other reasons to telegraph their displeasure.

"Good evening. I am Ascher." 

He lifted one hand, palm out, in a careful wave. For his part, Ascher was garbed in the attire of a traveler - a simple, well-made tunic and trousers... a belt and pair of well-loved boots that vaguely resembled those one might have been issued in the Bernese military... and a traveler's cloak, clasped at the shoulder in a fashion common to mages, as it left one arm free for spellcasting. 

"With whom I am speaking?"

[Aria]

Aria looked at her wyvern and noticed her.. noticing something. Then she heard the sound of a twig snap and a crunch of a few leaves. She turned around. Her armor making a slight cling-clang noise as she turned. She still had her lance in hand just in case what ever was behind her turned out to be hostile. But, Chewy didn't seem to be too agitated by this new person's presence. Chewy was cautious, but not frightened. The wyvern couldn't see or smell iron on the man. This stranger greeted them. He introduced himself. And Aria let out a small sigh of relief. She patted Chewy twice on the side and the wyvern relaxed. 

"Evening, Ascher." She returned his greeting. Well that's convenient. Glad we found the right campfire so soon. 

"I'm Aria, this is Chewy. And we're the delivery... deliverers." She sighed again. This time out of embarrassment. Remember to keep it professional.

"Thank you for coming out this way to meet us." She spoke as she slowly put her lance away. She didn't immediately walk up to Ascher to greet him, in a friendly hand shake. Instead she walked back towards Chewy's bag and pulled out the package. Plus a small wooden board with a piece of parchment. A tiny vial of ink and a quill. Then she approached Ascher. Chewy was just a few paces behind her. Aria turned her head to glance at her big red wyvern and the creature backed off slightly. Sometimes, Chewy spooked the clients with her curiosity. 

"Your package sir. Just need a signature here." 

[Ascher]

"Evening, Ascher. I'm Aria, this is Chewy. And we're the delivery... deliverers."

The scarred mage eyed the wyvern for a heartbeat before allowing his gaze to shift back to the... young woman? The voice had a somehow feminine cast... ah, 'Aria'. The man couldn't help but smile at the sound of the name, though his brow furrowed slightly at the moniker of her mount - a red-scaled wyvern named 'Chewie'? He almost hesitated to ask what manner of masticulation had prompted the epithet. His heart went out to the girl, as he wondered whether his daughter - if, of course, he had a daughter - would have stumbled over her words in a similar fashion. It something the man found adorable.

"Thank you for coming out this way to meet us."

"Of course." The mage's words were simple and polite, an affirmation of her thanks without trying to make more of it than it was. He couldn't precisely say that it had been no trouble... yet, there was a certain peacefulness to the southern forests that city life simply couldn't match. The man watched in companionable silence as the woman produced a small, wrapped parcel - his books, he hoped - as well as a bit of parchment. A confirmation of receipt, most likely. Nothing unreasonable.

His eyes widened slightly as the courier began to approach, closely accompanied by her wyvern. If he didn't know better, he'd say that the beast was heeling her - as a hound would their master. The man swayed back slightly as Aria glanced back toward the creature - Chewy, she had said that its name was Chewy - and forced himself to relax somewhat when the wyvern backed off. Not far, in the grand scheme of things - just enough for him to feel less crowded.

"Your package sir. Just need a signature here."

Ascher accepted the ink and quill first, priming the nib before returning the vial and taking hold of the wooden board - finding it much easier to sign for the parcel than he initially expected. It was not the first time he had used a backing board for a written document, but it was certainly the first time he had met a civilian who was familiar with their existence - much less implemented one in a business context. But then, the courier also had the foresight to maintain records of receipt. As he carefully inscribed his sigil on two sheets of paper, Ascher couldn't help but glance at his parcel - gauging the rough volume of the contents. "Here you are, Aria." The man offered her the board, after removing the top sheet for his own records and ensuring that the sheets were - for all intents and purposes - identical.

"If you intend to bed down for the night," the mage remarked casually, as he handed over the board. "I've some venison that I'd been smoking - as well as the remains of the deer, should your wyvern be interested in such things. You would be welcome at my fire." He offered a respectful half-bow, before a faint smile dawned over his features. "I daren't think that you need protection, miss - not with your friend, here - but it would still reflect poorly on me if I didn't offer a place of safety to a young woman traveling alone." Clearly, the man meant no offense.

[Aria]

Aria waited a moment for Ascher to sign the parchments pertaining to his precious package. She was slightly relieved that the man was familiar with the concept of signing for a package. Most folks she delivered to were illiterate, and she would have to sign for them.

"Thank you sir." When the block of wood, with the parchment was returned to her the rider blew on the ink a little. Just to speed up the drying process a bit. She then handed the package to Ascher with a friendly smile. Then carefully returned the signed receipt and the ink bottle back to her saddle bag. The ink bottle went into it's own special little box that prevented spillage. She didn't need a mess joining, her on the return flight back. 

"I.." She had to stop to think for a moment. Normally, she wouldn't accept such a gracious offer. It wasn't professional to do so. And while Ascher was polite, he was also a stranger. And he might do something to her. He doesn't seem like much of a physical fighter though..But, she also thought about the needs of Chewy. The wyvern needed a bit of rest before the flight back home. She glanced back at her wyvern. The big red beast was just sitting there. Calmly. Waiting for the order to go. And if Chewy, with her heightened animal instincts, didn't sense anything wrong, then maybe, a break with a client would be ok. 

"I'm never alone with Chewy around. But, I.. think I shall take you up on that offer sir. Not for the night. An hour or two at most." That should give then enough time to start traveling back, with some daylight left. 

"And Chewy would appreciate any meat you give her. Just be careful she doesn't eat up all of your stock." She joked. She quietly tugged at the reins and guided Chewy closer to her.

"Lead the way."

[Ascher]

Ascher accepted the proffered package, then blinked. He... found himself surprised, despite the forthrightness that had led the mage to offer a place at his fire. Client or no, the man had been correct in acknowledging that she was a woman traveling alone. Her willingness to take him up on his offer was indicative of a level of trust that he had not been expecting. Perhaps it was because he wasn't visibly armed, whereas both she and her mount had their full kit? Truth be told, he wouldn't have fancied his chances against a forewarned wyvern rider even on the best of days.

After a heartbeat, the hooded man offered a second half-bow - it seemed to be a bit of a habit - before waving to indicate the general direction of his original campsite. "My camp is perhaps a hundred yards or so, that-a-way. I... ah... smothered the fire before I came to meet you, but it won't be too difficult to re-light." Without further ado, Ascher began to make his way back toward his point of origin. The return trip didn't prove nearly as troublesome as when he had first made his way toward the wyvern's cry - no real point in sneaking when a massive, red-scaled creature was clearly evident to all and sundry. Besides, even if one were blind, one could hear the forest denizens keeping mum in the wyvern's presence.

Scarcely five minutes later, the scarred mage had made his way back - pausing every so often to ensure that he hadn't lost both wyvern and rider in the brush. It was more a courtesy than real concern at the prospect of them losing him in the forest - the creature could likely smell both his venison and the carcass of the deer from further away than this. Ascher dug his satchel out from its improvised hideaway and set about re-kindling the fire in the ashes of his last. The wooden tripod on which the venison had been smoking remained intact, despite a missing piece. It was odd, as there were no obvious signs of animal life having taken advantage of his absence. Perhaps Ashera had become impatient to claim her share? Perhaps he would be quicker with an offering in the future.

It was generally good business to stay on the right side of the goddess.

Despite having his journal - and, theoretically, the appropriate diagrams to conjure fire - Ascher chose to set about re-kindling the coals in a more mundane fashion. It had everything to do with him having flint and steel on-hand, of course, and absolutely nothing to do with his notorious inability to garner more than a spark from even the most basic flame spell. Absolutely nothing at all...

[Aria]

Was I supposed to bow back? Are bow's customary to the hermits up here? She thought about it after the Ascher's second bow. When the man turned around to lead them back to camp, she just shrugged. Aria and Chewy followed Ascher down towards his camp site. It was a decent one. The fire pit was place in a clearing. It was dug out a little in an attempt to keep stray ash from flying off and causing a forest fire. Though, she dobuted that possibility. The pines here were hardy. Strong. And the air around them was full of mist and moisture. It would be hard for a tiny ash to light any of the damp foliage on fire. As Aria guided herself to a nearby log, she kept a tight grip on Chewy's reins. The rider saw the man's deer carcass, drying, on a well preserved rack. And she knew that Chewy could see that too. 

The wyvern slowly tried to pull herself closer towards the direction of that fresh meat. And Aria had to pull her back. She didn't need Chewy to eat this nice man out of his hard earned dinner. No. Especially, when that nice man was a potential paycheck. And.. she.. they still needed to get paid for the job they just did. She pulled the wyvern close to her face and whispherd. 

"No. Mind your manner's Chewy." Aria got a hard tug from Chewy, in response.

"He already said he'd give you some. Just.. be patient. PATIENT." Another hard tug. This time strong enough to pull her away a few paces. Aria pulled Chewy back hard. And some how got the behemoth to sit down patiently. And now that Chewy's butt was firmly planted on the ground, she could sit down. The log she choose was cool, damp, and low to the ground. The Rider stretched her legs out a bit. Her armor gave off a familiar clinking sound as she did. 

"I'd offer to help you re-light that. But.. someone here might misbehave once I let go of the leash." 

[Ascher]

The hooded man chuckled softly at the wyvern's antics. "He's welcome to it, lass," he remarked softly, gesturing in the general direction of the carcass. "I'm afraid I wasn't ambitious enough to smoke the carcass, entire." Ascher carefully began removing strips of venison from the smoking rack above the fire pit. "This bit is ours - hot-smoked venison. I'll be headed back to the capital soon enough - no sense in wasting the excess." After a handful of heartbeats, the bits of dried bark he'd used for tinder finally gave up the ghost and began to smoke. Ascher smirked. Fire magic was indispensable, they said. No modern mage could do without it, they said. Ha! Bollocks to the lot of them.

After arranging the branches in a well-aerated cone, the beginnings of a lively fire had begun to kindle. Some rummaging about in the newly-retrieved satchel revealed a small mess kit - effectively identical to those issued to soldiers of Bern - that included a plate and mug of beaten tin. "I've only the one, miss." Ascher lifted the plate by way of explanation. "I don't suppose you have your own among your kit, perchance?" The strips of venison had been hot-smoked for the better part of the day. He'd made surprisingly good time from Lucerne. The man began piling the meat high on his own plate, as there was clearly plenty for both himself and the wyvern rider - though the wyvern itself would likely have to make do with the remains of the carcass, rather than the smoked venison.

Once the strips had been removed from the smoking rack, the man lowered his hood and set about disassembling the piece of wooden artifice. He was a middle-aged gentleman with a long scar just below a pair of surprisingly kind eyes. In contrast to the hardness that one might expect from someone with such a rough visage, Ascher appeared rather at ease. That is to say, appeared to be possessed of a certain degree of self-fulfillment that was often lacking in fighting men. As the fire began to burn in earnest, the trim about the edge of his cloak began to glimmer - the dull, silvery trim of a mage from the Imperial Academy. At his hip hung a small, leather case that likely held a tome of some description. Clearly, fire magic wasn't precisely his strong suit - else he would have simply gathered the fuel and cast a spell.

[Aria]

With Ascher's permission, Aria got up and helped Chewy go towards the remains of the deer. Chewy gave a sound of glee, once she realized she could have almost all of it to herself. And then promptly started chomping down on a leg. Aria patted Chewy, removed her personal bag from one of the saddle bags, and returned to her seat. She took her lance along with her. Once, she was back at her log. The rider jabbed the pointy end of the lance into the ground. She did it hard enough so that the lance itself would stand straight up. Then she removed her helmet and put that on the blunt edge of the lance. Effectively, creating the worlds most ineffective scarecrow. 

The finger combed back the loose bits of her braided hair. And then rubbed her neck a bit. The helmet was heavy and it often caused her neck to become sore. Especially, when she had to wear it for long periods of time. Aria recognized Ascher's mess kit. It was the same one she had on her. Although his look far less dented and worn than hers. So, Ascher was a part of the military in some way. The man didn't act like it though. To her he just appeared to be some hunter or hermit living in the woods. Part of her wanted to pry. But the other part of her told her not to. Hope he doesn't recognize that this is military armor i've got on. Not that the Rider was particularly shamed of her semi-military background... but it had the potential to lead to some unfortunate outcomes. And she didn't want that. 

Aria quietly took her portion of the smoked meat and took a hardy bite. The warmth of the meat soothed her nerves and brought a small bit of color back into her face. She had grown so accustomed to the cold due, to flying that she barely felt it any more. She held the piece of meat in her mouth, carefully balanced the plate of remaining food on her knees, and slowly scooted the log closer to the fire. 

"I don't have much to offer in return.. but I do have the means to make tea." Aria held up a small satchel. And her dinged but usable kettle. She quickly assembled the ingredients into the kettle and poured in some fresh water. Then she nestled the kettle near the fire. Hope he likes pine and mint tea.

[Ascher]

"That would be lovely, lass."

After sorting out the portions and returning to his own seat, the man lowered his hood and slipped a morsel of venison between his lips. He appeared middle-aged - in his middling thirties, perhaps - though his face bore the signs of rough living. A dark, lurid scar ran beneath his eyes and culminated on the ridge of either cheekbone. The effect was a trifle unsettling, despite the gentleness in his eyes. 

 The most noticeable feature - barring the scar - was undoubtedly the man's long hair. He wore it half-up, half-down. A rare choice, for a woodsman. Or for men in general, quite frankly. It was a luxury that one would expect of a student or scholar, perhaps a noble... but not a commoner. And certainly not a soldier. He might have been considered handsome, once, but there were few women in the market for an older man with a scarred face. Indeed, the man had given no indication of such potential interactions weighing on his mind - despite their relatively remote location.

"I confess, it has been some time since I've had a decent cup of tea." Despite his rough appearance, Ascher's manner of speech suggested a background on the upper-end of commoner society. A merchant family, perhaps, or that of a successful artisan? As the man glanced her way, the firelight caught a hint of green in his eyes - not unlike the pine of the forest around them. A bit of beard tarried around his chin, but it seemed a cursory effort at best. The remainder of his face was clean-shaven, suggesting that he kept to a standard of hygiene that was beyond most bandits.

"Forgive my curiosity, but I couldn't help noticing your kit." The scarred man nodded toward the plate on which she ate by way of explanation. "You've got a bit of soldiering in your blood, I think." He flashed her a quick, easy smile. It came naturally and became his features quite well, devoid of the greasiness or hidden malice one might expect from a certain quality of gentleman. Indeed, his manner was more akin to that of a hunter or woodsman - open, honest, and quick with a smile. He'd shown some knowledge of woodcraft - as evidenced by the dinner of which they partook - so such an assumption could be forgiven by a reasonable individual. "Have you a father or brother in the service, perhaps? Or served, yourself?" He tapped his own plate lightly with a finger, perhaps to illustrate the similarity between them.

Oddly, though, he clearly lacked both weapon and armor - barring a small belt-knife sheathed at his waist. Presumably, it was this which Ascher had used to dress the deer. Beyond his cloak and satchel, only a squarish hip-case marked him as being different. Even if he were a hunter or yeoman... would he not have a bow with which to hunt?