"A story?" That seemed to pull Elara out of her trance-like state, maybe just the absurdity of the offer. Or maybe because of the good memories if brought up, of nights on the clocktower and hot chocolate, of faraway lands and tales of knights and thieves and princesses that weren't trapped in their towers but rode dragons into battle and saved the day with swords and magic. Pausing for a moment, she thought about it, before carefully sitting down a few feet from him, on the other side of the tree trunk. "You need sleep. Why offer to tell me a story."
"Because I already got the sleep I need for the night." Kieran replied calmly. "You're only human, you need to sleep." He leaned his head against the tree. Stories…he knew so many, but most were from his culture, in his own tongue, and he might have difficulty translating. Might have difficulty knowing the right words to use.
“I’m not, but whatever, I’ll bite.” She crossed her arms, snuggling up into a ball and looking up at the sky again. “I’ll take a story. It’s better than all of…this, anyway.”
Kieran nodded. "Alright. Most of the stories I know are in my home language, so I will have to translate them as I go, so they might be a little disjointed and strange." He warned, trying to think of which one to tell.
“Tell me then like you normally would, and translate after a chunk. If that makes any sense.” Elara suggested, reaching into her pocket and leaving her hand there. She was fiddling with something, or more holding it in a closed fist.
Kieran hesitated. "I…think it will be easier if I simply translate it in my head. Just know that there are some words in my language that don't have a direct translation into this one, so I will have to use approximations on occasion." He said slowly, picking three threads from his pocket and beginning to twine and braid them together.
"Are you sure?" Elara asked, slipping her hand from her pocket with the item inside it. Opening her hand, a large silver wedding band lay on her open palm, letters in a foreign script engraved along it. Matthias's wedding band. "If you think it's easier, whatever. Just listening to someone talk'll help me focus somewhat, or at least quiet my head."
(gonna put the story in italics to make it easier for myself lol)
Kieran nodded. "Alright…" He thought for a moment. "One day, a very long time ago, there lived a…a man." He paused, then continued. "This man was very tall, and very handsome, with…with…" He frowned. "There's no direct translation, but in my tongue it's karthash, which…the closest translation would be horns of fire." He paused, then continued. "His name was Kämar, and he was the strongest bull that had ever been seen in those parts in those days, or was ever seen since."
Elara studied the ring in her palm as she listened to Kieran start his story, her shoulders relaxing before she had even registered it. She loved stories. Telling them and listening to others tell them. When she was younger, she used to interject her thoughts as her mother told the stories, but now she was content to just sit and listen.
(hey, are you still interested in continuing the other RPs as well?)
Kieran took a deep breath. "But Kämar was conceited. He was proud, when he should have been humble. He boasted of his strength to all who would listen; he challenged other bulls to fights just to humiliate them. And like most proud men, he fell, and he fell hard." He paused, thinking for a moment. "For he had suffered a grievous disgrace. His karthash, that which he was most proud of, had been shorn from his head in the night, cut off by a sneaking thief. Now he was jildra, hornless, and in disgrace. None would take a bull without horns. No longer could he challenge other bulls, nor compete for a mate." In his story were hints and undertones of a culture now mostly lost, ground into the dirt when his race was taken as slaves. But even now, it was still seen as a disgrace to lose your horns. It was seen as one of the most terrible things that could befall a male. A fate worse than death.
His voice, oddly enough, was managing to soothe the storm of thoughts in Elara's mind. Not fully, yet. But enough that she felt herself growing a bit drowsier, closing her eyes and listening. The story he was telling wasn't a happy one, but she didn't mind that. It was a story nonetheless, and anything that could allow her to focus on one thought was a godsend to Elara.
"So Kämar, he demanded of the elders a way to mend his horns. A way to get them back. He did not want to be hornless for his whole life. That would be the worst thing possible." Kieran paused again, thinking. "They told him to travel. To broaden his mindset and learn about the world, and maybe a miracle would happen. So he did. He traveled."
