Absorbed in the methodical motions, he’d barely heard Rexanna call his name through the thicket. The ax was swung, over and over and over again, restlessly rearing through the wood, splintering knots and fracturing granules. It was satisfying; violence and upheaval without the blood and ichor, and he was content to breathe in accord with the irreverence, exhaling on a downward pulse, inhaling as arms and blade reached toward the sky. Only as he raised his arms again, did his calling echo and resound between the thorns and brush, and he was forced to cease the routine movement, head whipping aside to glance over his shoulder at a familiar friend.
He was slightly surprised to see her out here – he thought she might’ve kept herself to the settlement, amidst politics and scandals, brewing her way through secrets and furtive motions. The soldier arched his brow, grin crooked, nearly impish in its quality, as he lowered the ax, let the metallic end settle on the ground. “Rexanna,” he obliged with a nod, eyes tracing over her form to ensure there was nothing pressing, nothing harmed, nothing marred or wounded; making no inquiry as to her status in the woods.
Her own interest was garnished a moment later, and this time both brows were raised, before settling down into his nonchalant disposition. He’d never taken her for an individual that wanted to work with the rougher outlines of life; she was someone who burrowed her way into society, sunk her claws into its flesh, drowned out the treacheries with her own meticulous round of chaos. Perhaps he’d underestimated her, which seemed foolish and unwise of him, for he’d never done the same to an enemy (always assumed his head would be separated from his shoulders, and then worked toward not allowing that moment to occur). Why would he commit the action towards a friend?
There was a smaller hatchet resting on the sled too – he’d brought it just in case the longer bladed-ax wasn’t necessary. It’d sat there, still and silent, awaiting its turn, until his arm extended towards it, grabbed the handle, and proffered the weapon towards Rexanna. “If you wish. There are some smaller pieces to be used for kindling.” His fingers followed suit, pointing at a few thinner portions carved by his ax, intended for incensing a blaze to its fruition. He smiled, then began picking up some of the wood he’d already bludgeoned, turning over a stump nearby and using it as a fixture, placing pieces on top so that he would make them smaller, easier to handle and load onto the sled.
