It was the morning after he'd caught the little Lirim woman skulking around Fireside's border. He had a full day as usual so Tyrian had risen with the sun. Even now it was just beginning to peek over the horizon and the air was a dusty red-violet. Dew still clung to the grass and fog lingered in places on the ground. Though he couldn't see his breath in it, the air was cool and heavy with damp. It was a nice morning with nary a cloud to be seen overhead. It looked to be a calm day in the making. Which meant it was a good day to slaughter a lamb.

He ambled out to where the sheep had been gathered for the night and picked around the quiet herd until he found the would-be thief. "Time to get up, sleeping beauty. We have chores to do." Yesterday she'd gotten a taste of ranch life. He hadn't trusted her not to completely muck up handling the sheep so she hadn't done any of that, but he had supervised while she cleaned up after them. All at a safe distance from any actual animals. The last thing he needed was for her to inadvertently send the easily spooked critters into a panic by trying to hug them or pet them or something.

One eye slid open at the sound of the king's voice, the rising sun behind him immediately shining down onto Aryn's face and bringing an angry and uncharacteristic grumble from her muzzle. She rolled swiftly upon the ground away from him, squeezing her eyes back shut in hopes of catching a few more hours of rest. The night had been a long one, full of nightmares of baby animals crying for their mothers as Aryn at Tyrian's side drug them by their legs towards a ever-growing pool of blood.

It took mere moments for clarity to hit her and remind her upon who's ground she slept, Tyrian's threat ringing mercilessly in her ears. Aryn forced herself onto her elbows so the king would know she was awake and not, well, beat her or something, but still her head faced away from him and towards the other half of the herd. Sheep were lousy cuddlers, Aryn had found last night. Try as she did, none of them had allowed her to get close enough to sleep in their company. They were still cute, though. "Can't we do it tomorrow?" She asked softly, unmoving. While Tyrian had said 'chores' and not 'baby animal slaughter' she assumed he'd be just the kind of cruel to throw her at it first thing.

She gave the groan of a soft, pampered creature unaccustomed to rising early for work and Tyrian knew then this was going to be a struggle. That was fine. He had time for this particular lesson. Tyrian settled his rump down in the cold grass to wait. He wasn't going away and eventually his patience would run out, but for now he was serene. "You know, the sooner you get these chores over with the sooner you can leave." He examined his upturned claws casually and noted out of the corner of his eyes that two of his companions had arrived. Tashi, the langur cowboy, and Zahir, his saber-toothed snow leopard would be assisting today if necessary. Tashi had a great deal of experience in all things sheep and was a wealth of information. He could make up for any deficit being paired with Aryn created.

"Unless," he said totally innocently, "You want to stay here forever in which case, by all means, don't hold up your end of the deal." Tyrian held out a paw to examine his claws at a distance. He wasn't looking at Aryn but he was watching her out of the corner of his eye to see how she's react. Sooner or later she was going to have to get up. This problem wasn't going to go away.

In time with the rising sun the sheep became more alert. Tyrian could hear those that had been asleep stirring while the ones that had kept watch began to move further from the huddle in search of better grazing. Here and there he could see commoners going about their business. At some point the herd would need to be moved, but he doubted they would hold up their progress for long.

Well he'd so far not tried dragging her to the slaughter house by the tail, so Aryn could only hope his sour mood had faded as he slept. The companions who had appeared gave her worry, but they too waited patiently rather then forcing her to her feet. Aryn snuck a glance over her shoulder to the king but wasn't surprised to see he hadn't moved to leave without her. "Seems to me like you've misinterpreted my priorities." She murmured, her bitter tone from the night prior returning. If leaving this place meant she needed to kill a baby sheep, Aryn would resign herself to being a prisoner forever.

Unfortunately, Tyrian's suspicions on her were not entirely wrong and he had made it clear already that the longer she fought him, the more lambs who would die. She would not put it past the cruel king to start lining them up infront of her and killing his whole herd one by one until she decided to participate. Aryn pressed her face into the grass, squeezing her eyes shut and inhaling the pleasant and grounding scent. After a long moment she stood, faced him, and with a sarcastic flourish of her paw beckoned for him to lead the way. "After you, your highness." Hopefully if she could continue feigning strength and indifference, the overwhelming desire to break into tears would eventually fade away.

He waved a dismissive paw in response to her first statement. She would get up and get moving eventually; she couldn't stay there forever even if she wanted to. Even if she held out and refused to move, eventually the stakes would be raised and she would reach a point where they were simply too high to resist. Tyrian yawned sleepily and looked up at the rising sun through the thinning fog. As soon as it climbed over the distant trees it would burn off what lingered of the fog and set to work on the dew.

Tyrian tried not to look too pleased when Aryn got up without more of a fight. Good. She knew where they stood. Could he expect this to go over without any surprises or hiccups? Probably not, but he could dream, right? He quirked a brow at her when she sarcastically directed him forward. As he took the lead, he said, "It's Tyrian, not your highness."

Spying the lamb in question, Tyrian stopped walking. "Alright, it'll be that one. Stay back and be quiet, we want him to come in nice and easy." He motioned to Tashi, who approached the lamb with a bucket that had apples in it. The yearling creature was accustomed to seeing the bucket and it knew there were goodies inside so it came up eagerly. After letting it sniff the contents, Tashi pulled the bucket back, slipped a loop of rope over its and began to walk to the barn. The yearling lamb followed dutifully, fully expecting apples at the end of its journey.

To Aryn, Tyrian said quietly, "We're going to take him to the other side of the barn where the other sheep can't smell or hear him." Only after Tashi and the lamb had a good head start on them did Tyrian start to follow.

Aryn resisted the urge to roll her eyes as he gave her his name, like they were friends or something and not cruel captor and poor sad, tortured prisoner. Although she followed him her steps were much slower then his own, her head hung as she glanced around at all the animals who surely did not see their deaths coming. "You afraid to fight a baby sheep?" She quipped as he directed her to stay quiet. 'Nice and easy', as if a helpless lamb could ever be anything more then easy to a wolf. Regardless she obeyed (at least the distance requirement) and watched as his companion used the feed bucket as a lure. Her ears fell flat, feeling too much an accomplice to this severe betrayal of rancher-livestock trust.

When Tyrian continued, Aryn couldn't help but hear the further meaning to his words. "You mean where the other sheep can't smell the blood, or hear his blood-curdling screams." She corrected him with a frown. He started forward after Toshi and Aryn followed behind dutifully, still hastily trying to reason with the man. "Can't you at least give it the damn apples? Doesn't it deserve a last meal? A warm bath? Something?" Already she'd had it in her head that Aryn would absolutely not be participating in this slaughter. She would sit back, turn her head away and imagine all the different ways Tyrian might one day suffer for his savage ways.

He could write a book about all of the things she didn't know. Tyrian rolled his eyes when she sarcastically asked if he was afraid of fighting a baby sheep and then replied calmly, "The goal is to make this as painless as possible. Just because he has to die so we can eat doesn't mean we can't think about his well being leading up to that point. And fighting and being terrified isn't good for his well being." He was talking to her like she was a child again, but really, it was hard not to. How she had lived this long being this clueless was simply baffling. These were the most basic concepts.

They reached the barn and Tyrian slowed to a halt as Tashi tied the lamb to a sturdy sapling. "Yes to the blood. No to the screams because there will be none if you do your job correctly." He eyed her with a piteous expression before waving a paw at Tashi, who had already given the happy yearling lamb an apple. "Maybe it's time for you to admit you know nothing, eh, and just listen without jumping to conclusions. Think you can handle that?"

Tyrian's attitude made it very, very hard for Aryn to be sad for the sheep. Being treated like a child was infuriating beyond belief. "I'm not stupid." She snapped back, lowering her head between her shoulders to glare at him. "My point is he doesn't have to die. You can act like this is just a regular part of your life and that you're not the bad guy, but here you are inviting a stranger into your home to slaughter your livestock for you because she pissed you off." The vulgar word slipped out before she could stop it, and hearing it from her mouth was enough to slow Aryn's rant considerably.

She forced herself to cool off, looking back towards the clueless lamb being led away and sighing heavily. When she spoke again her tone was calm and resigned. "I do know nothing, you're right. But this is fun for you, torturing me. Fun enough that it doesn't matter to you that I'll butcher this kill and you know it. I don't know how to do it right, and you'll enjoy that too." Her ears fell back against her skull in shame. What rancher in his right mind would bring a stranger in and let her learn on one of his livestock? The sheep must matter so little to him that he had no qualms about the pain it was to experience shortly. There was little doubt in her mind that Tyrian would simply step back and watch her fail over and over again, probably giggling with his companions and critiquing her technique as Aryn cried. What a jerk.

Tyrian snorted a laugh. “Oh, I’m not inviting you. Consider this a lesson because your naivety is fucking dangerous! I still don’t think you grasp the seriousness of what you almost did. We could’ve had a war because of your bleeding heart, but I guess that doesn’t matter, does it, since wolves aren’t goats or sheep.” This woman was not knowledgeable enough to be out in the world, he decided. Now more than ever Tyrian was thankful for all his father and his pack had taught him. They had prepared him for the world and given him the means to not only take care of himself but others. “Do you eat meat, princess? Because something had to die for that even if you didn’t personally kill it. We’re not sheep we don’t eat grass. Go ahead and try it, see how long you can last.”

He huffed and noted her change in tone. Even though Tyrian has told himself he was going to stay calm Aryn had managed to ruffle him. He reminded himself he was basically dealing with a child and forced himself to be calm. When he spoke again his voice was even and just a little bit impassioned as he tried to get her to understand. “I’m not here to torture you. You came here to steal from me because you think I mistreat my animals. I’m going to show you they are taken care of from start to finish, that they live as good a life as I can give them, and die the kindest death I can give. Why? Because just because they have to die so my wolves and I can live doesn’t mean how they live and die doesn’t matter.”

As for her bungling the kill, he didn’t think that either unless she didn’t listen. Firmly, he said, “If you listen to me and do what I say, he’s not even going to know what’s happened. As far as he’ll know, he was just eating apples.”

He eyed her for a second, then said softly, “Now, are you actually going to listen or are you going to keep pouting? And please, know that if you pick pouting you’re probably going to fuck up his death and hurt him after all.” Truth, every word.

This was getting them nowhere, Tyrian was rotating back to the hypothetical war once more and Aryn's eyes rolled in reply. At the comment of the meat she quite obviously did eat Aryn's ears pulled back tighter, her eyes narrowing towards the ground. He wasn't wrong, she wasn't stupid enough to think that the meat she survived on was acquired without death at someones paws.

He went back to explaining how well treated said livestock were, and Aryn felt he was missing the point. If he truly cared about them, he'd not be inviting - yes, inviting, Tyrian! - a stranger in and putting their end-of-life in her paws. Tyrian seemed overly convinced that the slaughter would be so easy Aryn couldn't possibly fail it, it was the only logical reason why a responsible rancher would be okay with giving such an important job to a stranger. After all, he'd not even trusted her the night prior to give her any chores requiring getting near to them.

At the end of his rant Aryn blew out another breath, resigning herself to his torture regardless of whether he wanted to call it a lesson or not. "Lets get this over with so I can go home." She pleaded softly, the fight in her fading. Maybe she should be thanking him, for making her inability to be a hunter so very clear that she'd not waste anybody's time in asking for a lesson.

Tyrian nodded once firmly to himself as Aryn gave up the fight. Good. It was about time. Her words were music to his ears because that was exactly the reaction he wanted her to get out of this. Go home, hippie, and never return with thoughts of goat-napping. If he was a little bit more invested in punishing other wolves' wayward children he'd be tempted to take her home himself and drop her at her incompetent papa's feet. See what he had to say about the whole ordeal. "Alright."

Tyrian stepped over to the yearling lamb, who ignored him in favor of the apple Tashi was letting him take pieces of every once in awhile. "This is what we're going to do. Tashi is going to hit him right here," he said while pointing at the appropriate place. "Which will knock him out. When he's out and on the ground you're going to bite here," he pointed to the sheep's throat. "That's it. I give him 20 seconds tops and he's gone. He'll never know what happened; he just won't wake up. Easy. Then we'll skin him and all that; get him ready for Tashi to preserve."

He was serious and honestly not trying to be a dick when he asked, "Do you think you can do that? I have others I wasn't planning on doing today, but I can demonstrate if you want to see it first." Of course, then she'd have to help him skin and butcher twice. Unless she surprised him somehow. Maybe he'd let her off the second butchering if she played nice.

Aryn was doing her best to pay attention but each time she really stopped to listen, she saw the poor critter happily eating his apples and felt her resolve break once more. Tyrian's explanation was frank without minced words and Aryn couldn't decide if it was helpful or more frustrating to speak of it so impersonally.

She winced as he motioned to where Toshi would be hitting it, her lip quivering slightly. The compulsion to look away as he motioned to where she was to deliver the kill blow was strong, though she managed to keep her gaze upon the lamb long enough to recieve the rest of the instruction.

When he asked her if he should do one first, it was only his tone that stopped her from snapping back in reply. For once he didn't seem angry or like he was enjoying her pain, it was as simple as a question as an instructor would give to his student. "I-" Aryn took a moment to pause, to hate herself properly for her words before allowing them off her tongue. "I think you should do one first." Her eyes slid shut tight against her watering eyes, reopening slowly to fix upon the sheep's vulnerable throat. It hurt to literally request the death of an extra sheep, but Aryn did not want to pain this one unnecessarily.

He could see she was struggling and for the first time since scaring her over the border his confidence wavered. No, he told himself before pointedly bolstering his resolve. She needed this. This was preemptive justice, like taking delinquent kids and showing them scary things so they would would scared "straight". If he didn't do this she would be a disaster waiting to happen. She might get sneakier and slink back over his border with a posse of tender-hearted thieves. to rustle all of his livestock. Having met her he could only assume her whole family was this way. His father had drummed into his head how big and soft the Destruction family was so Tyrian could only assume it was a "soft" family thing to breed like rabbits, which meant he wouldn't be at all surprised if she had a big ass family of tender-hearts.

Tyrian glanced at Tashi, who had done enough of these to know what Tyrian's look meant. He picked up the broad ended, stone club and casually rested the wide end on the ground. To Aryn, Tyrian said, "Okay, this is what we'll do then. We're going to take care of this guy start to finish and then you and I are going to move somewhere else while Tashi and Zahir get another one." He glanced at Tashi again and asked, "Ready?" After getting a nod back, Tyrian turned to look at Aryn. "This is going to be quick, alright?"

Another glance at Tashi kicked the process off. The langur wedged an apple piece in the crook of a nearby tree and when the yearling sheep stretched out his neck to get it, he struck the stunning blow. The lamb went limp immediately; it was clear to anyone with a practiced eye that it had been knocked out cold. Tyrian stepped up and quickly opened its throat with his fangs, careful to make sure Aryn had an unobstructed view so she would be able to get a sense of the placement and depth.

Wordlessly Tashi stepped up next and lifted the lamb's head so he could wedge a bucket under its gushing throat. There was already quite the puddle, but he would catch what he could and bury what he couldn't. They'd experimented with immediately hauling cut animals up into the air by their hind legs so the blood could drain into a bucket on the ground, but Tyrian had thought that might freak her out too much and talked his companion out of it.

Sometimes, depending on how the stunning blow was given, where it hit, etc, the lambs would tense and shudder even while senseless, but this one didn't. He did appear to be struggling to breathe briefly but death was coming fast and Tyrian was quick to explain, "That's it, honest. Just the body's way of dealing with it, you know? He can't feel anything; doesn't even know what's happening." Right on cue the lamb stilled; its body relaxing into the grass with the sort of finality that was unmistakable.

Aryn managed to keep silent and still for the most part, responding to his explanation with only simple noises that got across that she was still paying attention. When Tyrian proclaimed himself ready, she took a few steps forward and craned her neck to watch. Staring at a dying animal's throat as a predator punctured through the artery and drained it of it's blood was not something Aryn would do willingly in any other situation, though she had been the one to ask instruction and it was her responsibility now to make sure the sheep did not die in vain.

He moved fast, at an angle where Aryn could watch as the throat was opened. The blood was not something she'd expected, at least not in such volume. It gushed from the wound instantly, spitting a strand of crimson across her monochromatic face as it was forced from the artery. Every muscle tensed at once though none of them could execute the command to move; the shock of the situation and the warm wet blood upon her snouth had frozen Aryn in her tracks.

Tyrian's words sounded far away and she couldn't tear her gaze away from the slaughtered lamb long enough to listen closer. She could hear her heart pounding in her chest and feel each beat upon her skull. After a long moment she let out a choked sob, her breath catching. "I can't do this." She managed to tear her gaze away, tucking her head in close to her chest and shedding blood-laced tears into the fur there. The longer she thought about what she'd seen, the harder it was to keep back her tears from devolving into full blown sobbing. Already she was beginning to hyperventilate, her body shaking. "Please, Tyrian, I'll do anything else."

The moment that spray left the lamb's throat Tyrian just knew it wasn't going to end up anywhere good. Nope. Right across her face. For fuck's sake. Could it have been any worse? Of course he'd kept talking and working; if anything he hoped it would distract her enough so that she wouldn't dwell on it. It didn't work because seconds later as he was getting ready to start talking about the cuts they were going to make, her little wavering voice piped up. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Tyrian turned to look at Aryn. His resolve wavered again. This was the first person he'd ever made cry before and it did not feel very good. There were many a hypothetical scenario where he could take pleasure from someone else's tears, but this wasn't one of them. She was so childlike sometimes it was like kicking a puppy and laughing at the results. But, he reminded himself, this was a means to an end. He'd said he was going to do something and dammit, she wasn't going to make a liar out of him so easily.

He reached out and attempted to wipe the blood from her face with a soft, bean-toed paw. "You can," he said firmly, but gently. "Wolves have been doing this forever. Neither your inexperience nor your...empathy make you any less of a wolf." Fuck. He hated this. "But if you learn to do this and use that knowledge correctly, you might find the ability to balance compassion and logic - which would make anyone a stronger person."

This was absolutely the worst day of her entire life, and when Tyrian raised a paw to her face she flinched into her chest expecting his anger to return once more. There was a time when she thought maybe the cruel king had a heart, though her experiences with him over the last day had easily convinced her otherwise. Tyrian was the meanest wolf she'd ever met, and Aryn could feel the sting of his claws before he even made contact with her face.

Oh. The gentleness in his touch brought her lip to tremble harder, and as he finished pulling away the blood and lowered his paw she felt the absence of the comfort deep in her chest. Beside them the dead lamb's blood had slowed to a leak, and she was only able to glance towards the corpse before the shudders returned. Before she could stop herself she lurched forward, aiming to drive her face into the crook of his neck and force her eyes off the creature. "My pack has no hunters, no healers. I promised my father I'd try, but I just can't do it. The blood, I can't handle the blood. I'll never be useful to them. I think I'm broken." The admittance came in a jumble of broken sobs and caught breaths and Aryn's failure to collect herself continued.

Somehow it got worse. How? How the hell did it get worse? They were two wolves standing over the corpse of a sheep and one of them was crying. Not only that, this slaughter had somehow turned into a heart to heart. There was literally a puddle of blood on the ground and they were about to delve into some kind of informal counseling. For. Fuck's. Sake. Tyrian was not made for this. He flinched back visibly as Aryn flung herself against his neck and instinctively tucked a paw to his chest; the gesture unmistakably uncertain.

Tyrian swallowed hard and glanced down at the still-crying Aryn. After a beat he used the lifted paw to hesitantly pat her on the back. It was not the least bit surprising to him to learn that her pack was woefully understaffed. In that regard he had no sympathy for her father or her pack, but it made him feel bad for her. The picture that had slowly been coming together during their time together was not a flattering one. The more he learned the more convinced he became that Aryn was a victim of incompetence. He wouldn't have been the least bit surprised to learn that her parents were responsible for all of her deficiencies.

He was going to say the truth as he saw it, consequences be damned. If she got mad at him it would be a blessing. Anger he could deal with. "You," he said firmly, "Are not broken. I'd bet everything I have on all your problems being your parents' fault. No one taught you how to do these things when they should have. They didn't prepare you for how life is so in a way they set you up to fail. So..." Tyrian took a deep breath and plunged on, "Do this for you, eh? You deserve this and I don't mean that in a bad way."

If he could have thrown his paws up in exasperation he would have because an incredibly stupid idea was beginning to nag at him. Why he felt the need to rescue things was beyond him because wouldn't you know it, now he was thinking about keeping her. Not in a slave kind of way either, no, in some weird I'm-going-to-raise-this-grown-ass-woman-properly kind of way. God this was the worst day ever.

Aryn was oblivious to Tyrian's discomfort and only nuzzled in closer to stain his fur with tears as he awkwardly patted her. She wasn't sure when this torture session had drifted into a genuine make-you-a-better-wolf lesson, but it didn't make the impending murder an easier thought to swallow. He assured her that she wasn't broken and it was all her parent's fault, and Aryn pulled back from his neck like he'd insulted her personally to meet his gaze with her own devastated, watery one. "My father is a good alpha, he does his best and it's not his fault. We lost a lot around when the volcano erupted, including my mother."

She sniffed back her tears and forced her trembling lip to steady. Torin could not be blamed for her faults, and if showing her weakness now meant this alpha might look down upon her father for it she had to put a stop to it for his sake. One striped leg lifted and swiped across her face to dab away her tears, stamping back upon the ground before Aryn could dare to look and see if her leg had been stained pink with any remaining blood. "So he's d-dead, then. What's next?" She did her best to put on a brave face, looking over at Tyrian and swallowing hard.

He'd said what he'd said and he wasn't going to argue with her over this when he didn't really have a dog in the fight. Tyrian's opinion was that sometimes someone best wasn't good enough - and that didn't excuse them for their incompetence. It just meant they should be taken out of the running altogether. He was a bit like his father in this way. Some wolves simply weren't cut out for parenting or leading in the same way not every wolf was cut out to be a fighter or a healer. It was a shame wolves like that held positions of power and procreated anyway and he was now standing neck to teary face with the reason why they shouldn't. Not that he faulted Aryn for it. She hadn't had a say in the matter and it was likely she was forever at a disadvantage because of it. He just felt bad for her, honestly. Under all the naivety she was kind of sweet.

That little salvo into uncomfortable territory seemed to bolster her resolve. Tyrian was slowly coming to the understanding that making her angry got her to nut up a bit. He'd keep that in mind. She stepped back and dried her tears before turning a determined face to him. "Next we gut him." Tashi, unprepared for once, scrambled to his feet and took off at a sprint for the barn where he had a plethora of containers for this very task. Tyrian, realizing this would take a moment, slowed the process way down instead of jumping right to the demonstration.

He grabbed one of the sheep's forelegs and pulled on it until the carcass lay on its back. Using his claws he traced a line down the sheep's belly. "We're going to make a cut here, pull out the viscera and divide it between preserves, fresh eats, and discard." Ultimately very little would go in the discard pile. Just about everything had a use even if it wasn't for eating. "I'm going to go ahead and open it while we wait for Tashi. If you ever need to do this, be careful to only cut the skin and nothing else." Using his claws and his teeth, Tyrian slit the sheep's belly open and then pulled the skin back with a paw. Using the other he reached inside and scooped things around. "We're going to keep most of this so we want to be extra careful in sorting it so nothing gets contaminated by urine or anything like that." About that time Tashi came back with several containers. He fell in beside Tyrian and together they pulled things out and set them in bins. The pair worked in tandem; the organs getting sorted quickly and quietly except for the occasional instruction.

Once that was done Tyrian stepped back and let Tashi do the skinning. Even though Tyrian could do it, Tashi was better at it. He had the advantage of nimble fingers and that made all the difference. Tyrian narrated the work. "Since we're doing this on the ground Tashi's going to do it one side at a time. He'll skin one half, part it out and then flip the whole thing over and do the same to it. When he's ready, he's going to start handing you things to put in those bins over there." The langur did just that when the time was ready. Bit by bit the carcass was broken down and parted out until there was nothing on the ground but a raw hide and bins brimming with marbled meat."And that's it. Nothing to it."

If Aryn was to know Tyrian's train of thought she sure as hell would have much to say, though as far as she knew her father's name hadn't been irreparably smudged as of yet, and she could still prove him worthy of the other alpha's respect by going through with this terrible act. While she had entirely - or so she thought - prepared herself for the next step in the slaughter, her resolve broke apart again at his very next sentence. Below her breath she repeated the matter-of-fact statement, though the soft whisper came out as more of a squeak audibly. "Gut him?" Oh, Gods above. She did her absolute best to watch as Tyrian worked the sheep, though with each new cut and the - uck! - stirring motions of his paw she felt her stomach turn around and around. His words started to fade into the nausea so she murmured simple "mhmm's" as he explained, hoping desperately that she didn't sound like she was about to hurl all over his fresh kill. I hate this, I hate this, I hate this. It all felt like it went somewhat quickly, until she realized that it was her turn to participate in the butchering and could give only a blank stare towards the waiting langur. The things - Aryn couldn't, and wouldn't identify them. Just things. - were handed to her which she gingerly and with at least contact as possible transferred into the aforementioned bins. When he declared it finished she stepped back, distanced herself from the king, companion, and carcass, and promptly vomited into the grass. Once her stomach had somewhat settled, she blew out a shaky breath and gave him a soft apology. "Sorry." Damnit, did they have to do this all again??? "Speech" "Thinking" "You."