As Silver as the Stars [Menel & Javed]

[Menel]

It was getting late. The sun had set a little bit ago. He'd watched it as he scouted the perimeter of the camp. Menel had spent a few hours before the caravan even arrived at this location making sure that the campsite wasn't used by any animals on a regular basis, but he had to keep an eye out for bandits or other dangers. Thankfully there were no signs that there were any storms incoming, or bandits keeping an eye on them. Everyone settled down for the night peacefully. Raising tents, and covering the wagons for the evening.

A small fire was started in the center of the ring that the small caravan he was guarding unconsciously made. They cooked a stew over it and settled quietly around the fire for the evening; talking quietly.

He was offered a bowl of stew, and he took an extra, heading over toward a quieter section a little bit away from where the group of people gathered. A traveler had joined the caravan; a stranger. His clothes made it obvious that he considered the wilds his home, and that he was probably as well-traveled as Menel himself was. They also suggested that the man was a hunter. If only because one didn't tend to wear the bones of animals unless they'd slain the creatures themselves.

The swordsman sat down beside the stranger offering him one of the bowls and a smile. "Hungry?"

[Javed]

He had cajoled, wheedled, and made himself seem like a master of the healing arts but they had left him on, with the condition he entertain the caravan of travelers with his soothsaying skills. Javed only hoped they didn't expect the stars to say anything different each night. One never knew with simple folk. Maybe they just looked at his collection of bone and fur and figured he had a few tales to spin. The blond man would make some up if that was the case.

That day had been spent healing, checking on each beast of burden for hidden illness, and intimidating when he could. A well timed observation usually caused anyone who wasn't sure about his skills to scamper off. Or at least retreat so he wasn't stifled. The singular guard he had seen had for the most part ignored him in favor of keeping an eye on the entire group. Javed had decided he wasn't close enough to the next village to nettle any of them yet, let alone the far too jovial swordsman. Though it seemed he would end up running his mouth when the ice-haired man appeared to offer him food.

"Hungry?"

The question caused Javed to raise an eyebrow, forgetting he was still wearing his cat skull. After a moment of silence he reached out a hand, accepting the food his stomach reminded him he desperately needed. "Seeing as I've yet to eat since I found myself in such... needy company, I would think so." A low voice, but also smooth for the sting in his words. His bones and jewelry clinked together softly in the darkness as he leveled the bowl into his lap. There was a moment of silence before he sighed in a suffering tone and gestured to the empty ground near him. "You may sit, guardsman. Unless you'd rather not be in the company of someone shady." There was a flash of a smile, white teeth reflecting the fire's glow.

[Menel]

There was little hesitation in the man's acceptance of the bowl of stew Menel offered. He'd never really doubted that at least. Traveling all day ensured that the poor guy was going to be hungry, and though Menel hadn't been keeping a careful eye on him the swordsman would have been lying if he said he hadn't checked in once or twice. It wasn't that uncommon for a bandit group to try and slide one of their members into a caravan to stir things up or set up an attack. Yet for the most part the stranger had kept to himself. Looking over the animals and if anything he seemed to try to keep the few members of the caravan that approached him at arms length.

He had a low voice, the bones he wore clinked lightly as he accepted the bowl and when he offered Menel a seat the swordsman didn't hesitate for a moment to sit down beside him. Which meant that the man was actually still talking a bit when his butt hit the ground. He caught the edge of the other man's smile and returned the expression. The swordsman's posture was extremely relaxed. He sat like he walked, like a man totally secure, moving his sword smoothly so he wouldn't trip himself up in it.

"You don't seem that shady to me." His smile broadened a little. "My name's Menel by the way, what's yours?"

[Javed]

While he would be lying if he said he wasn't hungry enough to simply inhale the stew he'd been offered, Javed instead held the bowl between his hands and let it warm his fingers while he studied the swordsman sitting besides him. The man sat with controlled grace, and while maybe from a distance Javed might have appreciated the sight, up close the hairs on the nape of his neck stood up. A dangerous man then, best to watch himself. He really hadn't wanted to draw the attention of the guard. At least not casually. He knew he used barbed words too often, and he really didn't want to find himself wandering this stretch of territory alone again. Hopefully he'd keep a civil tongue. It was a lot to hope for.

"Javed," He offered finally, maneuvering the bowl around the fangs that protruded from the great cat skull and jaw the caged his face. Praise to whatever deity that might be listening for food! It wasn't until he'd eaten a good portion of his stew before he finally felt alive enough to attempt small talk.

"Are you always so courteous to parasites that latch onto your caravans, Menel?"

[Menel]

It took a moment for the other man to finally offer his name, and Menel nodded politely in reply to it. Javed. He watched Javed eat carefully, digging into his own stew readily. It wasn't the best stew really. Just something that the caravan folk had thrown together because they had to eat to survive. His stew had vanished by the time that Javed spoke again. He almost thought that the other man might stay silent. He ate quickly, with precise manners, but the food practically disappeared.

"Are you always so courteous to parasites that latch onto your caravans, Menel?"

The swordsman, who had been looking over the quiet groups gathered loosely around the fire looked at Javed in shock. He certainly hadn't been expecting a question like that. Menel set his bowl on the ground. For a moment he was quiet too, then he looked up, his blue eyes trying to meet those of the man beside him. As much as he could considering the shadows created by the skull that Javed wore. "I don't think of you as a parasite. I mean... that seems like a harsh way to think of someone I just met. Do you usually have such a low opinion of yourself?"

[Javed]

"Yes" he replied, short and to the point. And yet he also flashed his teeth again into a smile. "Or I should say, I'm a master if self-deprecation whether or not I believe what I say." With a chuckle he finished off his food and placed the bowl next to his knee before pushing his helm up so that his eyes and upper face were uncovered.

"It's never wise to think people are as good as they might seem. A healer can do just as much damage as good, after all." Brandy colored eyes twinkled a little in the firelight, a tiny hint of mirth. He in fact had used his skills to injure instead of heal, though there was no way he was going to tell Menel that. It was usually frowned upon after all. "I don't count myself among those types. I just know how to appreciate a relatively free meal and half a guarantee that I wont wake up with the sun missing my wallet." The cost healing took out of his body and energies wasn't enough of a burden to outweigh the money he could make with fortunes and half-truths either. Unfortunately he was running out of time before he'd have to earn the second half of his keep. Hopefully the folk of the caravan would all be too tired for anything but a few palm readings or maybe one tale. Javed could wish, in anycase.

[Menel]

Javed's reply was short and blunt. As surprising to Menel as his words in the first place though... his explanation made a bit more sense. There was a certain cleverness in appearing less than what one was, but that deceit, unspoken though it was, was something that Menel couldn't really manage. The other man lifted the helm of bones he wore, revealing a flash of almost copper colored eyes.

Beneath the cowl of darkness that his skull provided he was a handsome man, long golden colored hair and tanned skin that made the metal color of his eyes and hair flash all the more brightly in the flickering light offered by the campfire. It echoed, as though he himself was a part of the flames.

The swordsman couldn't really say he was wrong. People were rarely trustworthy, but Menel had never really been able to simply distrust everyone he met simply because of others in the past. In a way it was like Javed was trying to tell Menel not to trust him. All but admitting that his healing skills could be misused as much as they could be used for good.

Menel rolled his shoulders, watching the fire with his eyes, but his attention was on the man beside him. "It's easy to look at a sword and see a sword. To know that it cuts, that it can do harm. Just hearing it ring as it is drawn out... Men can feel that in their bones. When I look at my blades though, I know that there is more to them than that. They are tools that can be used to help or harm just as your healing is."

He shrugged again. "I know it's easy to look at a stranger and distrust them, but it's not harder to trust." Suddenly he smiled, his blue eyes flashing as he turned directly back toward Javed. "I can promise however, entirely that you will wake up tomorrow with just as much in your purse as when you go to sleep tonight."

The swordsman shifted slightly and pulled a bar of chocolate from his pocket, snapping off a piece and offering it to his companion. "Chocolate?"

[Javed]

He chuckled a little at Menel's conviction, though there wasn't any joy in the sound. Instead it was dry and perhaps a little put upon. An optimist. Of course. Because that was what this horrible mess of a world needed. Even as Javed scorned the idea he knew an idealist was sometimes exactly what the situation required. Not that he would admit it. That might tarnish his defeatist persona.

This virtual stranger seemed very confidant in trusting others. The blond healer could only shake his head in mild disbelief over the passionate opinions that spilled from his lips. "Swords aren't quite the same, but I think you understand what I meant, yes? Your ears aren't just for show?" He raised both eyebrows, as if the possibility existed.

"I can promise however, entirely that you will wake up tomorrow with just as much in your purse as when you go to sleep tonight."

At those words and the offer of the chocolate Javed almost burst into real laughter. So determined! instead he managed to smile and shook his head, declining the treat with a wave of his hand. "I'll have you know that by the end of this night I expect my purse to be far fuller than it's current condition." He gazed at the pale haired swordsman, eyes narrowing in speculation.

"In fact, maybe you'll be the first person to drop some coin in my hands. Have you ever had your fortunes read?"

[Menel]

Javed's laughter seemed... almost bitter. Not entirely happy for sure, but then he wasn't really surprised. The other man was quite a pessimist, or at least he seemed that way. He smiled. "Yes I know what you mean." Perhaps swords and healing were different, they were in fact very different, but they were not as different as they could be sometimes.

The expression on Javed's face was more than worth the offer of chocolate. It made his smile spill out into a grin and the other man's words made it a little chuckle. Well, if Javed made a little money off the people of the caravan it was his to keep though they seemed to have little enough to spare.

"In fact, maybe you'll be the first person to drop some coin in my hands. Have you ever had your fortunes read?"

Menel arched an eyebrow at the bold declaration then the expression slipped to confusion. "Fortune? No I can't say that I've ever had my fortune read." He'd seen a few fortune tellers in his time. Women in alleys with crystal balls or decks of cards that held mysterious symbols. He'd never really understood it, nor interested enough to find out what it was they were trying to sell.

[Javed]

The look of mild confusion was enough to boost Javed's spirits and split his face in a toothy grin.  It was never hard to read someone's fortune. But reading a person who had never had it done before? Even better. Their reactions were always a mix of disbelief and suspicion that made the entire process worth it to Javed. Especially when he knew he had said something correct.

"No? Then maybe you'll allow me to show you the other reason they let me tag along with such mighty merchants." Glancing over to where the remaining travelers were beginning to either disperse for sleep or huddle together in clumps to engage in whatever form of entertainments they preferred confirmed that no one seemed interested in Javed spinning a tale tonight. Which suited him just fine, as much as he liked pulling the wool over people's eyes on occasion, tall tales rarely earned him the money found in spilling half-truths over someones palm.

"What do you say, swordsman? All I need is your left hand and a few coins if you like what you hear." The blond man shook his mane of hair back and resettled the skull over his face. With the waning light from the campfire he knew he looked strange and perhaps a little dangerous, but that was part of the performance. Every a charlatan knew that presentation was half of the show.

[Menel]

How quickly his companion's expression became lit with a broad smile. The smile made him smile too, but the suddenness of it was just a little suspicious. Menel was a trusting man, but he was no fool. Still, he liked Javed's sudden enthusiasm. If it made Javed smile like that... he wanted to know more about it. Besides... what harm was there in giving the other man his hand?

The swordsman gave a small graceful roll of his shoulders and broke off a small piece of chocolate for himself before pocketing the treat. He popped the bit into his mouth and offered Javed his hand.

There was a light smile on his lips, amusement from watching the way Javed set himself up. Pulling his helm of bone back down to shade his eyes. Menel recognized a man setting a stage, the readiness in the line of Javed's body was hardly different from the way that Menel himself stood when he was ready for a fight. It was a posture that said that he was ready for what was to come, that he was in control of the situation and whatever might come from it. It made Menel's blue eyes respond with a flash of eagerness, his body subconsciously leaning forward. He'd always loved a good competition, even if he had no idea what that competition might entail.

"Doesn't that seem a bit wrong?" His voice was laced with curiosity. "What if my fortune is bad, or if I don't like what it has to tell me?"

In spite of his own question he held his left hand out steadily. He'd already decided that he'd let Javed glean whatever information from it he intended to. His hands were like the rest of his body, built almost from nature for the sword. Long fingers and deft palms, he was long past the time when they had been marked with callousness from his training but there were a few from other things. From the odd jobs he did for the caravans he traveled with. Yet his fingertips were still sensitive, the hands of a swordsman.

[Javed]

Oh hoh, it seemed he had a goaded a bit of fire into his companion after all. Even if he was still being ridiculously fair-minded. It was enough to make Javed roll his eyes behind his mask, though he still smiled before reaching for the warrior's hand.

"If you don't like what you hear and decide not to pay me, I'll just nick it from you later, guardsman." He chuckled deeply, leaving it up for Menel to decipher if he was joking or not. As things stood if he took anything it wouldn't be until he was ready to leave the group of people he was currently tied to. Which he had no intention of mentioning to the white haired man who's hand was now resting between both of his. Not with those swords so close at hand.

Thin brown fingers covered in rings of various shape and size grasped the pale palm, gold nails tapping an unknown rhythm as they skirted over scars and callouses in search of his life lines. Javed's hands looked smooth, though thin scars marred both his fingers and the backs of his hands. Not the kind of scars that came from living rough (though he had many of those as well), they were neat and uniform in length. If his own palms were turned up anyone would see that his lines were intersected with so many little cuts that reading him would have been impossible. Exactly as he preferred. Eyes lost in the darkness of the cat's skull, Javed let the silence grow, continuing to let his fingers trace the dips and lines along Menel's hand.

When he could feel tension beginning to form between his shoulder blades, the blond finally spoke, his voice low and pitched so that it would go no further than where the two men sat. Time for the show to start.

"Your left hand is the hand that shows the potential that your life could bring" He began, keeping his amusement out of his voice as he tapped one long nail on the center of the palm he held. "While the right is your past, what has made you what you are." Javed used his smoothest speaking voice, the voice that he used to charm and swindle the skittish. But also the voice he used on the weak and frightened that needed his healing. "Is there something you want to know, Menel?" He murmured, looking up and meeting blue eyes with golden brown. He knew he was laying it on a bit thick, but the man hadn't ever had a fortune read. may as well make it worth his time. Though watching him squirm might be fun as well.

[Menel]

He couldn't help chuckling a bit. Really... he was the last person that he thought that anyone would try to steal from. Not only did he have reflexes that made it difficult enough of a task to accomplish, but his keen warrior senses made it even more difficult. Rare was the person who could sneak up on him, much less take something off his person without him noticing. Besides... Javed would hardly have any reason to steal from him. Menel fully intended to pay him for his time... Whatever the results.

Javed's fingers slid over his palm and Menel found himself looking at the other man's tanned skin. There were scars all over those hands. Not scars from hard work but... If he had to guess he would almost say that they were purposeful. Menel had a few on his knuckles from fighting bare-handed, nicks on the webbing of his thumbs from when he had been a younger swordsman.

His little finger twitched under Javed's study, the touch light enough to almost tickle. The swordsman shrugged smoothly. "I already know my past, but I wouldn't know what to ask you about anything else." He looked up with a smile. "Besides, I don't really even know what you can learn just by looking at my hand."

If the other man was expecting squirming... he might have to look somewhere other than the stoic swordsman sitting before him.

[Javed]

"Well let's just start with the basics, shall we?" Javed used his left hand to hold Menel's palm flat and open while gesturing with his right. All of the swordsman's major lines were easy to read, which had surprised the healer for a moment. Usually there were lines that were incomplete or perhaps damaged, but there seemed to be very little of that on the hand before him. Except one. "You're going to have to work hard if you want to resolve those pesky family problems." He said calmly, not touching the discordant and broken line he was all too familiar with. "And even then... I don't know if it's a wound that can heal. Or if you even should." Javed didn't meet Menel's eyes, clearing his throat and moving on. If the swordsman was uncomfortable he really didn't want to see it. Always good to start with a low point.


Carefully, he rested his index finger on the simplest line, a curving stripe that started between his thumb and first finger and ending in his wrist. "This right here, is your life." Javed tapped the line, accenting his point. "You see how it curves into almost a half circle? You're a healthy person, it's unlikely that you'll be dying on us until you're a wizened old man. Though please don't go out of your way to prove me wrong." He smiled at his own morbid jooke before moving to the next line. His grin turning feral as he rested his finger on a deep creased line that wove from under Menel's index finger to his pinky.

"Ahhh, love lines. My favorite."

[Menel]

Menel nodded, leaning forward slightly so that he could look at the lines that Javed was pointing to. Admittedly the way the other man pointed to one and declared that he would have to work hard to fix his family issues surprised him. Rather than being uneasy the swordsman felt a powerful flux of curiosity. He had never known his father, by the time he had been old enough to ask...  

Perhaps he was never meant to know, yet somehow he almost felt like Javed's words alluded to more than that. More perhaps than even he knew. It was a strange sensation.

The other man cleared his throat, pointing to another line and tracing it out. This explanation made Menel smile broadly. "Really?!" His voice was honestly surprised. Considering his life as a swordsman... Well he wasn't the sort to rush into death, but somehow he'd just assumed that he'd die fighting. Not of old age. He chuckled, well the other man wasn't wrong about him being healthy. He was rarely if ever sick. "I don't plan on rushing into a fight if that makes you feel any better."

Javed's finger slid to another line, and Menel's pinky twitched again. Almost belatedly the swordsman realized that he really didn't think about his life much. Did he want love in his life? Yes. Yet he'd never gone looking for it, never seemed to find someone. For all of his good looks and charm he'd never dated. So he was curious what Javed had to say about that.

[Javed]

Javed gave a dismissive snort and rolled his eyes at Menel. "I suppose I'll sleep well with your promise. But back to this funny little line right here." It would hardly be his fault if the pragmatic swordsman managed to end his life earlier than the creases of his hand suggested. Accidents happened to the best of souls. Javed was well aware what it felt like to read a future and see it crumble away under his hands. All he could see was potential, not facts.

He ignored the tiny tremor in Menel's pinky finger, instead chuckling softly and shaking his head wistfully over the love line between his hands. Some people really are lucky. Javed swallowed any envy before studying the line further.

"Well you're certainly going to find a love, if not more than one along the way to your mate." He murmured. "You have a slow start here, but... I can already tell it shouldn't be hard to find someone if you look." the blond smiled and followed the wavering line from where it began to roughly the middle, stopping at a few little wrinkles that marred the skin. Not scars, Javed arched his brow and looked up at Menel. "Well I suppose no love story is ever easy." he muttered cryptically. "You'll survive. You'll collect friends and maybe a few enemies but..." Javed trailed off, looking for the final major line. The line of Fate. He felt some trepidation. The last time he'd read a fate line had not been... Good.

[Menel]

He wished that he could read Javed's expression, but his skull made that an impossible task particularly in the darkness. All he could do was read the other man's body language. His posture and the way that he touched the lines. He was used to reading subtle cues, but it was difficult enough of a task even for him. Menel alternated between watching Javed's shoulders, his hands, and the lines that the man traced with his fingers.

If he looked for it? How did one look for love? He really didn't know. He let the question sit in the back of his mind, letting the other man talk. Explain that there would be trials but that only made Menel smile. "Anything worth having isn't easy." The art of the sword had taught him that. Taught him that what he loved most in life was something that he had to work every day on, that it was worth that effort. That spending every day practicing, working his body to a perfection he could never actually achieve was in fact as enjoyable to him as his swordplay was.

Javed's fingers were tracing over his hand again, but that question wouldn't quite leave him.

Just a little bit he couldn't help wondering... should this be raising more questions than it answered? Or was he finding so many questions now because he hadn't had any to start with?

[Javed]

"Anything worth having isn't easy."

Javed jerked at the simple words and forced his head up, his eyes meeting Menel's through the skull covering his face. The fire had begun to settle as the night moved on, reducing the amount of light to see by. But the amber gaze still glittered dangerously into guileless blue. "Even things worth having can still break you in the end." He snarled, biting out the words. His hands spasmed as he tried not to force them into fists, tried to get himself back under control. Strangers didn't deserve his anger, especially ones that hadn't known their simple platitudes would set the blond off. He thought he had moved on, that the wounds were finally healed instead of scabbing and pulling painfully. People always seemed so accepting that things- people - should be fought for. Javed knew better.

He turned his face away and took a slow breath, jaw clenching to get himself back under control. The guardsman's hand was still between his, and he released it with a sudden gesture. "Just because it isn't easy doesn't mean it is worth it, Menel." He said slowly, frowning and glad the mask he wore hid most of his face. It was harder to hide the strain in his shoulders, the way he had turned slightly away from the fire. He should finish what he started, look for that final major life line and get it over with. He flexed his fingers, thinking and staring at the dying fire.

[Menel]

It was like his words were an attack though certainly they hadn't been intended as such. He knew very well how a man looked when a blow landed, and Javed flinched, his shoulders tight and hunching slightly. As if expecting Menel to actually hurt him. His words were sharp, angry and Menel knew that it wasn't really him that this man was angry with. It was a memory. Something that had touched Javed's life and left it's mark there.

Javed turned away, his features still hidden by his mask. A part of Menel wanted to take the skull off the other man's shoulders, but he couldn't. The other man let go of his hands and Menel couldn't let that pain stand. Gently he took Javed's hand back into his own.

It was not pity, but understanding. He could feel scars under his fingers. Feel inconsistencies on the other man's hand where physically he had been harmed. Not for the first time Menel wondered if Javed had done this to himself. If the scars that marked the back and front of his hands were self-inflicted for reasons that Menel could not know. They seemed to perfect, to purposeful to be accidental.

"I know." His voice was soft, and though he held Javed's hands, his touch was gentle. "Sometimes you can be so close, trying desperately; and watch your whole world fall apart."

He smiled, and though Menel was a man of easy smiles it was easy suddenly to see what those lines on his hands, the ones that said he wouldn't lead an easy life were talking about. Something older than the years he lived. "I didn't mean to remind you of anything, and for that I'm very sorry."

[Javed]

"You do not know, guardsman." he stressed the last word, hands as tense and rigid as his shoulders. There was no way his hands between Menel's could be called comforting. Instead they were just reminders of how much he couldn't stand it when people reached for him. It wasn't the same as if he had initiated contact, that was entirely his choice. Worse yet was that he knew Menel was touching the tiny scars on his hands like they were still wounds that could feel pain. As if they had been some terrible self-inflicted punishment.

There were plenty of wounds over Javed's body and heart that had been inflicted on him. The ones on his hands were nothing of the sort. They were freedom and he was glad for them.

"I doubt you could understand, despite what you say." Javed said, slowly before pulling his hands free from the cruelly kind grip and curling them together in his lap. He was grateful for the helm covering his face once again. He needed that wall to keep others out. Especially kindly meddling swordsmen.  "You have your own wounds and I have mine. But i can tell you with absolute certainty that there is no way you could truly understand. And I would not wish anyone to, in any case." No person should have to feel what Javed had felt, been torn apart like that and forced to pull himself back together alone.

As much as he wanted to flee right there and go nurse his wounds in private,the poor pale haired man did not deserve to be left hanging. Probably didn't deserve Javed biting his head off. With reluctance he shifted so that he was facing Menel again, palms up in an apologetic gesture. "I should not have snapped at you. There is no blame on your shoulders, only bitter ghosts clinging to mine." He attempted a smile, though it was more of a twist of his lips.

[Menel]

Javed wasn't wrong of course. He couldn't understand exactly. He didn't even know what hurt there was that lay in the other man's past. Even if he had lived the same moment himself, he couldn't say that he understood. Pain was such a personal thing. Faint memories flickered on the edge of his mind, but now was not the time for them. He couldn't banish them entirely, they were always there, always waiting for him. He could however remind himself that this moment he had to endure them.

He let the other man take his hands back. Smiling just a little softly. He had no real way to comfort Javed other than perhaps just by his presence alone. Though he wondered if his presence was more discomforting than anything else.

Finally Javed offered him an apology and Menel shook his head. "It's alright. You aren't wrong, I have my own wounds." Menel's eyes flickered off to the side. He suddenly shook his head again looking a bit embarrassed. "I'm sorry about the interruption to your demonstration..."

It had been interesting, though he really wasn't sure what the appeal of it was usually. Perhaps he could think of some way to repay the other man... Something more than money at least.

[Javed]

Javed sighed as if he was being dreadfully put upon before allowing the edge of his irritation to slip away. "Yes well, I should have known better. A good lesson in my lack of self control before going up against the rest of these folks and trying my luck with them." He glanced at Menel, who was sitting and trying to be a source of comfort without touching. It was cute, in it's way. It was a bit like a puppy trying desperately to help. And it had been Javed who had overreacted, it was his place to apologize. With another sigh (less suffering and more acceptance of the inevitable) the blond offered his hand, palm up. An invitation to return his left hand into the healer's grasp.

"I can see it didn't spark your curiosity and wonder as it should have, though. Come, you have one more line for me to read and then I'll let you decide if it's magic or just trickery." There was a moment of trepidation in his gut at the thought of reading the fate line. Last time he had nearly lost an eye to his toothy head covering when he had been knocked back by the force of... whatever it was. Magic, shock, hysteria. But so far the white haired man's palm had been fairly simple. General clues that could have belonged to anyone, excluding the mention of his family. And even then, who didn't have familial troubles?

"This last line and I'll release you to whatever your duties. Sleep or stalking the grounds for danger." The casual smile was back, along with a chuckle that never left his throat.

[Menel]

Menel nodded slightly, accepting Javed's apology a touch hesitantly. Really he didn't think that the other man had done anything wrong. Like everyone he was allowed to feel, to have emotions and memories which pained him from time to time. Javed however obviously felt that he had misstepped. In truth, Menel was just a little surprised when Javed silently asked for his hand back. He simply had assumed that the misunderstanding meant that his reading was over.

To his further surprise he found himself actually looking forward to it just a little.

He smiled lightly. Perhaps it was curiosity. The fact that he'd always had an interest in skills that he had no talent in. Watching someone cook for instance often held him in thrall. His own skills in that area were particularly deficient and watching someone else with skill create something from nothing... It was almost like magic.

The swordsman nodded again. He'd already done one round of the area, but it would make the people of the caravan feel more secure if he walked around a bit. Though he did have one small idea in mind before he got back to his own work... Which could wait until Javed finished his reading.

Menel offered his hand back to Javed, not at all reserved in the action. "What's the last line?"

[Javed]

"Fate," he answered, relieved that his voice didn't waver. He had seen the final line, stretching from between Menel's third and middle finger all the way to his wrist. He knew, theoretically, what that line signified. In fact if he wanted he could bluster his way into making it all sound gratifying to the swordsman. But he didn't. Instead Javed reached up with his free hand to grasp the hidden cord that kept his cat skull on, pulling it off carefully and resting it next to his thigh before unclasping the lower jaw as well. No point in risking stabbing himself in the neck or throat.

"The fate line," He began again, feeling uncomfortably exposed without his bone armor. "Will show you how deeply interested in your life and future whatever deity watches over you is." He tiptoed over that line, thankful that Menel's fairly laid back personality would probably mean any accidental blasphemy was overlooked. "Not everyone has a fate line... In fact most do not. I wish I could say it meant you were lucky. More often than not it just means your life will be full of trials." Pausing to rub at his exposed throat, Javed frowned and grasped Menel's hand with both of his, brown thumbs digging into the soft tissue of the pale man's palm. "This is not always a fun line to read, and I'm sorry if I say anything outrageous." He began, jaw clenching as he paused, eyes level with the other man's before he dropped his gaze to the hand laying passively between his own. There it was, stretching out and pulling his gaze deeper. Light filling him up and pressing against his skin.

He had a chance to blink, to breathe once, before the sensation of being dragged backwards caught him around the neck. His head attempted to snap back, but he growled low in his chest and focused, nails biting into Menel's flesh now as words stumbled out. The tiny scars on his hands itched to fling himself away, reminding him of why they were  there to begin with.

"There is something coming, something is changing. A great force that will rock your foundations and force you to move. Stay afloat, a raft in the tempest, or be swept away in the onslaught. There is a hand on you, a touch. You have to chose." The words rasped out over his teeth, and Javed knew he was losing his breath. Every nerve ending screamed and tried to get him to shake. Fate, that one line that seemed to summon up whatever latent magics or future sight Javed seemed to possess. It was like being crushed in a great hand, and he was determined to fight it every step of the way, even as it showed him what could be, what might be.

[Menel]

Fate? Menel's pale brow's furled in confused interest. It was almost a curious thing to be told that Javed could read something of his fate in his hand, but then... wasn't that also the point? His eyes flickered up, feeling another tingle of surprise when Javed began to pull his skull helm off. Without the bones covering his features the other man seemed... more human. More real than a moment ago.

Javed explained the details to him. Honestly... Menel had never really felt like any deity took much of an interest in him, and he'd returned the favor. The business of the gods, if there really were any up their looking down; was their own. Which wasn't to say that Menel was entirely nonreligious, only that he took his religion with a grain of salt and dealt with what he could. A physical world that oftentimes tried to kill him.

The other man grasped his palm with both hands and there was a harsh intensity in Javed. If Menel had to guess, he'd have said that Javed was preparing for a fight. That he was almost afraid of what he was about to do. Menel felt a fine tension spill over him, that readiness making his warrior senses come fully to attention. Javed's jaw clenched and his head rocked, a low growl leaking out from the other man's lips from deep inside his chest. Menel's whole body flushed warm and tingling.

It was perhaps the most peculiar sensation that Menel had ever felt.

Nails dug into his palm and his lips parted. It hurt just a little, but not enough to draw a sound from him. Not nearly enough even for surprise. Only enough for him to feel it distinctly and to realize that Javed was going to leave marks in his flesh. Pain was something that Menel was intimately familiar with. The man's words were breathless, raspy. Every one of them slid over Menel's skin and the swordsman had no doubt that Javed believed them all. He wasn't lying. This wasn't some act put on to garner money or to put on a show.

What did he have to choose? There were other questions, other things that tugged like gentle strings on the back of his mind, but that was foremost. He wanted to ask, but he didn't want to break this... whatever it was. This spell that Javed had cast upon himself, or upon them both. It was like he had become himself an extension of Javed. He couldn't break himself away. Oddly... it felt familiar. This weight. This connection. As if he'd done it before or some part of it at least.

Menel looked at Javed, at the strain that held the other man as taunt as the string of a bow. He wanted distantly for this to stop. For Javed's sake. Javed didn't need to do this to himself for the sake of whatever future might come to him.

Yet he couldn't move. He was only along for the ride.

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