The Watcher ((RP Story by Jinny!))

(( Not the greatest title! But...here you go! Let me know what you think! This took place just after the meeting that Pherala was at, and Sen was a tired old Bokor. ))

Jin’zakk paused briefly on the yellow sands, shaking back the masses of cobalt-hued micro-braids that were being tossed by the damp wind. His sculpted, masculinely beautiful features wrinkled and sniffed a bit around the troll’s long, pierced tusks, taking in the scent of coming rain. It ruffled the dark steel-blue fur; the velvety shortness marked with the slightly raised suede-like textures of black scars made with a mixture of brands, ink-rubbing, and scarification. The marks were vivid, tribal marks, Darkspear in origins. They started at his nape, flowing down in a ‘V’ across his broad shoulders until the point reached his lower back. Some also curled over his shoulders, hips, and upper arms and thighs. Currently they were half-hidden by the impressively thick, wild mane of very fine braids that spilled almost to his backside.

Gleaming gold shined on his body: numerous piercings that caught the eye against his dark coloring. Little rings and bars decorated his eyebrows and lower lip, and even a small one between in his eyes in a ‘unicorn’ piercing. His ears were littered with so many piercings, spirals, and rings that it seemed as if the weight should cause them to droop. Even more gleamed at his clavicles, and wove across his nape and along the surface of his biceps. Even the webs between his fingers had small ‘beads’ showing they were pierced. One his bare chest the nipples and navel were pierced as well: the navel was an interesting triangular creation, a tiny chip of purple gem in the center, and a fine gold chain connected that lead down into his pants, hinting that he might have even more metal underneath that concealing leather.

Currently though, the young Darkspear Hunter could have cared less about the exotic, tribal picture he presented on the sand outside of Sen’jin Village. Right now, his dark violet eyes were firmly on his companion, the old Shaman, Sen’gir. He frowned a little, watching the stubborn old troll hobbling up the beach. The other was smaller than him, small for his tribe really, at just a bit over six feet. Jin’zakk had been blessed with the height of his father and loomed easily more than seven and a half feet. Sen’gir was clearly twice his age and, at the moment, feeling every day of it by all appearances. Usually the Shaman was active, even playful with gleaming electric blue eyes, shimmering pale blue fur, and a wild, thick mohawk in an unusual purple shade. Right now though, he looked shrunken and tired, leaning heavily on his staff and limping, clearly exhausted. The little seashell bangles on his tusks chimed and rattled with his unsteady, but determined gait.

“Oh, fer vekk’s sake!” he suddenly snarled, his voice a deep purring sound, almost velvety, though it was currently rough with irritation. “Ya stubborn ole murka!”

The Hunter ignored the older troll’s glare as he stalked toward him, circling around him. A moment later, Jin’zakk bent over and swept the Shaman off his feet, cradling him against his chest. Sen’gir wasn’t overly thin for a troll, but the powerful Darkspear made it look easy, muscles flexing to support the other’s weight in his arms. Blatantly ignoring the older troll’s protests, the dark-haired troll carried the other toward the large hut that passed as an ‘inn’ in the Sen’jin Village.

“Ya vekkin’ exhausted,” Jin’zakk snapped. “Ya gettin’ some rest if ah have ta ‘it ya wif yer own stick!”

“Ah’m fine!” Sen’gir growled in protest, even though he looked almost gaunt and his fur was dull, free of the usual unique shimmer of electricity that was so normal to him. “And Ah don’t need ya carrying meh ‘round.”

“Deal wif et!” the Hunter snapped back, pausing to talk to the lean female troll that was currently running the inn. A few moments later, they were heading the winding, wooden stairs, lead by a half-grown whelp with a bucket of steaming water. “’cause ah’m not givin’ ya a choice!”

The two were lead into a smallish, round room at the top of the inn with a few hammocks, small open windows, and a ‘proper’ bed. It was little more than a pile of sweet-smelling hay and leaves, covered with some thick, soft furs, but it was big enough and comfortable enough. It had probably cost Jin’zakk some extra silver, but he didn’t flick an ear. The whelp poured the hot water into a basin with some sponges and cloths, clearly meant for cleaning up. Grinning as a few silver was tossed his way, he departed, the beaded curtain covering the door rattling a bit.

“You realize they probably think we’re having sex,” grumbled the old Shaman, turning into Zandali, brilliant blue eyes still glaring at the Hunter.

“Let them,” Jin’zakk countered, slipping into smooth Zandali as well, the troll’s language. “I don’t care.”

Moving to the large bed, he moved to sit Sen’gir down, dropping to a lithe crouch in front of him. Ignoring the protests and complains, he took the Shaman’s staff and set it to one side, following up by peeling the messy robes off the older troll’s body. He draped them over a nearby hammock; not folded really, but neat enough. Even the bangles around Sen’gir’s tusks were gently removed and set to one side.

The Hunter’s dark violet gaze ran over the other curiously. The other’s body was lean, but fit and strong, especially for his years. Jin’zakk noted the odd, angular designs on the other’s lean chest as well as the strange runes carved into the Shaman’s right leg, the one with the limp. They meant nothing to him as far as reading went, but he was curious, even reaching out to trace them curiously. He shook his head a little, rumbling to himself and rising.

“What are you doing?” Sen’gir asked, peering rather suspiciously at the Hunter.

“Taking care of you,” he countered, moving to the basin and dipping in a sponge before returning. He kneel and the other was given a quick sponge-bath to get the sweat and dust off, even fluffing that purple mohawk, though the Shaman’s hair seemed to droop a bit, lacking it’s usually vibrant electrical charge. “Somebody has to.”

“Why?”

“Because! Just shut up and let me!”

Hard glares were exchanged before the old Shaman settled and sighed, peering at the Hunter thoughtfully. Jin’zakk ignored the looks to finish washing the other up, tossing the sponge beside the water-basin. He nudged the other to lay down, rolling Sen’gir onto his stomach. He was distracted by the twin wind-serpents on Sen’gir’s back, curling elegantly from shoulders to buttocks on the old troll. He rumbled and even traced them for a moment, admiring the beauty of the designs.

“Are we having sex?” Sen’gir glanced over his shoulder, looking somewhere between hopeful and just plain tired as hell.

“Not tonight.”

Jin’zakk nudged the old troll’s head forward and rested his hands on his shoulders. A moment later, those long, calloused palms and clever fingers were kneading and massaging, easing the ache out with a practiced, skilled touch. Sen’gir blinked and electric-blue eyes widened in surprise before sliding closed. A groan of pleasure spilled out of him as he melted, feeling all the aches of a long, hard day and his own age. It was a relief and a delight to feel the knots and pains being firmly, but gently worked out by the Hunter’s fingertips and palms, working in small circles, slowly working from shoulders to hips, even popping the spine gently in a few places.

Jin’zakk paused as he reached Sen’gir’s lower back, ears perking as a quiet snore was heard. He blinked and then chuckled, shaking his head. The poor old Shaman was exhausted and currently fast asleep, mohawk in a messy half-circle around his head as he breathed deep and peaceful. Reaching down, he grabbed a light blanket, pulling it over the other’s lean body to protect it from the coming night’s chill. Making sure the other was warm and comfortable, he nodded and rose, leaving the old troll to sleep.


Sen’gir opened an eye, peering around in confusion for a moment. The room was unfamiliar and the light said it was probably early afternoon. He’d slept long and hard, but he felt better now, re-energized and alert. He rolled to sit up, a blanket still over his nude form and he kept it up, a little reluctant to leave the cosy ‘nest’ he’d made. Long ears perked and twitched around that brilliant, crackling mohawk as he peered around, getting his bearings.

The Shaman blinked in surprised to see Jin’zakk, still casually dressed in leather leggings and a loose, light shirt sitting in the windowsill. One leg was on the floor, stretched, while the other was propped up in front of him as a brace for his arm as he looked out, watching the village below. Those hip-length braids swayed and rattled quietly, the wind tossing the decorative beads against each other. It was pretty clear the other hadn’t slept, even though he looked fine, violet eyes bright and alert as he turned his gaze finally toward Sen’gir.

“Morning. Breakfast right there.” The Hunter gestured toward a plate balanced near the Shaman on a small table with a small knife. It wasn’t anything fancy, just fresh-cut fruits, a bit of bread, and some water. “Help yourself.” Jin’zakk turned back to watching outside, using the knife to cut off a slice of fruit, eating it off the blade. He didn’t seem bothered by the confused looks he was getting from Sen’gir.

“Did you do that?” the older troll asked.

“Aye, I did. Eat up.”

“Why?”

“Why not?” Piercing purple eyes turned to the Shaman. “Just eat up, Old Fighter. You need a good meal. You had a long day. Humor me.”

The Hunter settled a bit, sitting more relaxed when Sen’gir picked up some fruit and started to eat, licking his fingers. He returned to eating slices of his own and there was quiet for a while. When the hunter was finished, he rose, padding to the water, now cold, and rinsing his hands off. He glanced when the Shaman spoke again.

“Did you stay here all night?”

“Yes.”

“Did you sleep?”

“No.”

“Why?”

“Why not?!”

The Hunter gave a vexed huff and snorted at the Shaman. “Would you just not worry about it, old man? Just eat up.” He shook his head and padded to the door, moving to duck out. He paused though, glancing back. “And I did it because I wanted to. I’ll see you around, Healer. I have hunting to do, eh?” A smile and a brief wave and he was gone, leaving a very puzzled Shaman behind to sigh and shake his head.

“Confusing pup....” Sen’gir muttered, rising and heading to his robes to get dressed. He was going to be needed tonight and he might as well get a move on.

~END~