Arkin smiled at the suggestion. A fierce bear, hmm? Well it was certainly accurate. He'd know Arinth would pick something that suited him properly if given a moment. He laughed, clapping Arinth on the shoulder. "I suppose that makes me a fox then." 

But Arkin couldn't help thinking...he didn't need another piece of himself on his skin. 

Maybe he did. Just something to remind himself during those little times he forgot. Arkin collected memories, in the silk wrapped around his wrist, the bells in his hair, the cords around his neck. But he had never gone this far before. There was something different about this time. He had mostly been going along with this because Arinth had suggested it, but now, he found himself wanting more and more to have a permanent reminder of what had happened to them, what they had survived, not alone, but together. He would never forget it anyway. Tanchico would be a part of him forever. But, he thought as he glanced over at Arinth. Not all of it had been bad. 

He clapped Arinth on the shoulder again. "The golden tree is the symbol of Tarabon, right? Let's get a tree then, maybe a burning tree, and over that, a bear, and a fox." 

He squeezed Arinth's shoulder as well as he could when the man was a foot taller and built of muscle, nodding to him. 

He looked over at the soldier waiting to draw on them. "You think you can do that?"

Oh nooo, get them good zs! Yeah I might also go back and edit that post at some point haha I just typed and submitted. 

And yeah, Arkin is everyone's drinking buddy I'm pretty sure haha. 

Wowow the OG crew haha. Haha I just posted a waaay too long response to the Tinker thread. I might throw up a retro catch up post on the alliance thread. 

Arkin kept an eye on the Banders as they began to mingle with the Tinkers. It was an interesting study. He had begun his evening exactly as expected, rushing in through the crowd as soon as Calder and the Mahdi had completed the formalities. Even just hearing the words had brought a burst of warmth that had moved through him like a wave, a kind of bright light that reminded him of sitting a little too close to the fire, of sore limbs and a golden, warm throat after dancing the night away. It left a kind of ache behind as it rolled through him, an ache that Arkin hadn't quite expected, one that pulled his brow down into the slightest frown. 

As soon as that shiver had passed, his legs had moved of their own volition towards the fires. There was stew in cookpots, free flowing mead and wine, the coloured wagons and clothes bright. But Arkin had only one destination in mind. There were fiddles and drums and lilting voices around one campfire, surrounded by laughing and easily dancing tinkers. Arkin barely stopped as he ran over, sweeping the closest person up for a dance. 

And for a little while, he forgot. 

He was there, singing, laughing, drinking, dancing with the shadows cast by firelight. He forgot the other Banders. He couldn't see them from here anyway. They were still staring around with wide eyes, their armour and weapons too heavy to dance with. But this was where Arkin was meant to exist. And so he danced. 

Right until his back tore open. It wasn't dramatic or even overly painful. But he felt the still healing wound pull and split as he was slightly too athletic, just a hint of blood sticking his shirt to his back. Grunting, he swung out of the dance, passing his partner onto the next in line and sitting on the log beside the fire. 

There was a young man beside him, who immediately passed him a wineskin. Arkin took a long pull of it, smiling his thanks under the noise of the music. He handed it back and quickly pulled down his shirt, fingers checking where he had ripped open. It hadn't been much, just the scabbing portion at the top that had yet to heal or scar. Not too hard to reach. 

The man next to him winced, turning to him and staring with wide eyes. "Are you ok?" he asked. 

Arkin grinned back at him over his shoulder. "Right as rain! Just forgot not to bend that way for a moment." Arkin watched as the tinker eyed the scars littering Arkin's skin, the extent of the wound on his back that travelled on further than where his partially rucked shirt revealed. The tinker's eyes were wide, one hand tracing an old, thin scar on his shoulder, obvious in the firelight. Those blue eyes filled with sorrow, and a touch of fear, but also interest. Scars like this were the mark of battle, but also of tales to be told. 

"It's ok," Arkin said, tossing him a wink. "It's a good story." 

Swallowing, the tinker nodded. He glanced back towards one of the wagons. "One moment," he said. "Wait here." 

Arkin did as he was told, taking a swig from his own flask of something a little stronger than the tinkers were drinking. He wiped the bit of blood on his fingers off on his pants. He had already stopped bleeding, but he'd have to be more careful. Maybe he shouldn't have tried to spin his partner quite so often. He grinned. Worth it. 

The young man returned with a few supplies, and asked with his eyes if he was allowed to touch. 

Arkin nodded, turning his back to him a little so he could fix him up. "You're too kind," Arkin said. 

He saw the tinker grin and shake his head in his peripheral vision. "No, we can't have the soldiers saying the tinkers do not care for those in need. Though, it seems to me that perhaps you knew that already. A man who can dance our dances, but wears these on his back?" The man ran a light finger over one of Arkin's scars and he shuddered slightly despite the warmth of the fire. 

He nodded. "It's a tale, to be sure." He paused, wincing at the tinker's ministrations. "I travelled with you for a time. But it was not my story." 

They were quiet for a while, and Arkin swallowed past the sudden divide he could see between the life he may have had in the wagons and where he was. What he had become. 

His reverie was broken by a gentle hand, warm against his back, as the tinker righted his shirt. "Will you tell us that story?" he asked. 

Arkin turned back to face him, righting his shirt as he met the tinker's grin with one of his own. 

"You cannot tell me that your time with those weapons," he eyed the knives at Arkin's side - he had removed them before dancing, but he was never far from them. "Has taken from you your songs and stories. I can see it in you." He gestured to the space by the fire, where the dancing was winding down. "The stage is yours this evening." 

Arkin smiled, and shifting his shoulders to check the stitching - good effort - he vaulted up onto the log and gave a bow. "If that would be payment for your kindness, how could I refuse?" 

The tinkers he had been dancing with all cheered and assembled into an audience, those with instruments quickly picking up on his tune as Arkin launched into a bawdy re-telling of some of the highlights of his tale, embellishing the details, speaking of his drinking buddies, his training, his days with the tinkers, playing up his story as a bumbling fool who stumbled from mistake to mistake, always the solution to one problem causing another, keeping his audience in stitches.

There was something different about this though. Standing up like this, he could see the Banders, scattered amongst the tinkers, small knots of armour and gleaming weapons among the swirling colours of the tinkers. It was different. He couldn't pretend they weren't here anymore, losing himself in his past. It was new, but it was strangely comforting having the two parts of his life mingle like this. 

He began to weave the banders into his story, Arinth becoming his equally bumbling partner in crime, accompanying his misadventures, taking turns leading the other astray. Arinth was far across the camp, speaking with a tinker. But Arkin wove him in anyway. 

And before he knew, he was at Tanchico. 

He hadn't meant to speak of Tanchico. He had been carefully avoiding bringing talk of violence of battles into his song. But his tongue seemed to move without him, words spilling from his lips, his throat attempting to seize up and scream and project all at once.

Tanchico poured out of him. 

His audience quieted, the tinkers with wide eyes, the banders who were close enough to hear with tight jaws and eyes closed to memories, or wide-eyed interest from those who hadn't been there. There weren't many to hear it in the noise of the camp, only those in the nearest fires, but Arkin felt it as heat claws its way up his throat and across his face, hot tears pouring from his eyes as he re-lived the memories, as he painted the picture and purged it in a way he hadn't known he needed to until then. He painted the wagons red with blood. His. Jehryn's. Arinth's. The Seanchan's. The thing was, tinker wagons never held blood for long. 

And he finished.

And he bowed. 

And he left. 

The tinkers all nodded in understanding as he took his leave, dashing tears away with one hand as he drew his flask out with another. He paused by the young tinker who had helped him, now staring, mildly horrified at the tale he had asked for. 

Arkin put a hand on his shoulder. "Sometimes I wish I had chosen this path," he said. He shifted his hand onto his cheek. "Thank you." 

The young man, who had flinched away slightly at his touch, softened, warming. He nodded. 

Arkin took a deep breath, the air of the camp filling his lungs, and felt...different. Cleansed. The activities continued around the camp, dancing and laughter as the Banders finally relaxed and began to enjoy themselves, Arkin's tiny audience huddled around their fire, someone picking up a lilting flute tune. 

He felt a little selfish, using them to clean his own conscience, to scrub his soul raw and flash it around, but he also knew that they understood that it had needed to happen. 

But right now, he needed a drink. Seeing Arinth still deep in conversation, Arkin headed to the deep shadows at the edge of the camp. He slipped up into a tree, quiet as a whisper, and vanished from the sight of anyone below. No-one could find Arkin when he didn't want to be found, even if he was moving carefully with his new stitches. He closed his eyes and took a long, long drink, starting to feel a pleasant buzz flutter over his cheekbones. 

His ears twitched the same moment the dogs started to bark. Instantly on alert, he dashed through the trees in the direction of the sound. Creaking armour. The faintest shifting in the trees. They were good, but not good enough to hide from dogs. Whoever it was either hadn't known the dogs would be there, or didn't care. As Arkin silently launched through the trees, he spotted them coming. They were fanned out, armed to the teeth, dressed in leathers and piecemeal plate and chain. They weren't the first bandits Arkin had known to attack tinkers, taking what they wanted, knowing they wouldn't fight back. Arkin gave a savage grin. Well, whoever they were, they certainly wouldn't be expecting half an army in amongst the dancers. 

Arkin glanced back towards the camp, and his grin grew. Darting back through the trees, he dangled from a branch above Arinth, dropping down to stand beside him. He glanced once more back at the camp, the tinkers who had all stood, staring towards the trees, holding each other. 

"To the wagons!" the Mahdi was calling, and many were scrambling to obey. 

The Banders were all coming to their feet, not all of them sober, not all of them well-armed, but all turning towards the danger as the colours and light of the tinkers faded behind a wall of armour and swords. 

Arkin, at the front of the soldiers, the bandits still moving up through the trees, turned to Arinth. He pulled a long, wicked knife from his belt, and held out his hand to Arinth with the other, ready to pull him to his feet. The tattoo they both shared was clear in the lights of the wagons. "Shall we?" 

What's happening?! Where is everyone? Are there any threads happening? I'm gonna come play here instead of writing my thesis cause that's what a responsible student does XD

Also, ❤️ ❤️ *tacklehugs everyone* 

On 8/29/2019 at 3:42 AM, Arinth said:

When is this big demolition, explosion party, and more importantly, who is bringing the drinks?

Well Arkin can handle the latter half of that ?

BRING BACK PAHL YEW

I swear I will be making an appearance again reeeeeal soon!! ❤️ to all

Oh my gosh thank yoooou!! Promise I'll try to get in here more ❤️

We aaaaaaalways play nice 

Ahahaha all about that legal stabbing

Also, I'm about to go learn how to stab people woth swords ? ? ? Beware

*squishes between Cairos and Horn and cuddles both* How is everyone?

Welcome welcome welcome!! I'm BB, eternal squire of the cavalry. It sounds like you've had a journey getting here, so welcome home ?

Muuuusic. Music psych now for postgrad.

Dang, I am super into this show now so I'm gonna stamp around until someone comes and talks to me about it. 

The DM is simply the best. 

Yaaaay so excited to get started. And to get my student card back. XD

*comes and chills in the tavern* Celebrating my final hours of pre-PhD freedom. Well. Days. My final days. 

Ok I finally started and I love them XD Started on season 1 because I can't skip. Orion isn't super my jam, but I adore Sam/Scanlan and all of the characters are growing on me as it goes on. Vax also, but I've always been a sucker for a rogue. 

So, two things. 

One, folk festival. Awesome. Reviews incoming. 

Two, was there a Band member at Woodford (Australia :p) this evening? Someone walked past in a BotRH shirt and we didn't catch them in time to interrogate them!

YES I am so bad at plot just very very bad. The story I'm writing for NaNo is very new, but it's also a combination of a couple of ideas that have been floating around for a while. As always, I have no idea what the main conflict actually is, or how it ends though at least I have a couple of ideas this time. Also absolutely no idea how to get there. But I have a new technique to make sure I don't flop, which is to add a fun character I like to a later plot point. That way I don't have a huge cast right from the start, and I have motivation to go find those characters so I can start using them haha. 

Oh nooo, but beer! Yeah, I've gotten worse at drinking beer in the last year or so. It's the only fizzy thing I ever drink and I don't think my stomach can handle it in large quantities anymore. Well. In vast, speedy student qualities. That's ok though, I'm just gonna drink yummy beers and good summer beers because it's disgustingly warm here. 

HORN!  *crashtackles and ties to a chair*

Yuuup, I feel you there. Ahahaha, I love that intense detail. I have one story that I've been writing on and off for years with this ridiculous web of alliances between the three Nations and the military power and and a crazy magic system and cultures and stuff, and every time I re-visit it, it just gets bigger haha. It's getting a little bit hectic, but I've still never gotten anywhere with that story. I need to completely re-vamp the plot, I think. I've never really figured out what's going on, but damn the world is cool by this point haha

Woooow no wonder we like writing together Arinth, we sound like we have very similar processes. 

I always get bogged down by worldbuilding. I adore it, but it takes me too long and I get stuck and want to include all of it in my story at once and then I lose interest in the story because I already know what's happening haha. 

I also do exactly that with moving backwards, finding what happened to my characters before the main story to be super interesting, often moreso than the story. I like being avle to sort of flit to wherever without the constraints of ya know, a plot XD Unfortunately, that means I run out of plot very quickly, hence never finishing stories. 

Of course of course! I have no problems getting words down but I've always sucked at finishing stories, and until I've finished, I don't tend to edit, which means I never share any of my writing. But I'm really going to try and do that this time!

If you need writing inspo or advice you should losten to writing excuses! 15 minute podcast episodes and the whole of season 10 is a big masterclass - and Brandon Sanderson is one of the hosts. Highly recommend if you're a bit stuck!