Well now, this is confusing. [Road to Rathess]

Regardless of the (maybe decades) of time they'd bought, in the back of Akara's mind he knew that it was only a stopgap. Kwatyl was happy now, because it was well-fed. When the buzz of such a robust meal wore off,, it would still be without a purpose, living in territory occupied by families who wanted nothing to do with it. Akara counted himself quite lucky that he'd arrived before they'd dismantled the shrine entirely. Still, Kirasath had a point - he still needed to attend his own needs of he hoped to be the advocate the little family spirit so dearly needed.

Akara's temporary home was deliberately near to the spiritual center of the estate, which thankfully meant that it was literally within sight of the shrine. A warm wind drifted through the courtyard as Akara led Kira though a sliding paper door and into the spacious quarters issued to him - spacious perhaps only because they'd been designed for a family or two of household servants. It was Akara's guess that the coalition of families who'd bought the estate intended to make use of the area once Akara had finished his business. As it was, the place was roomy and more than enough for Akara, who could have been content with space for a tent and a fire pit.

A fully furnished home was a fine luxury to enjoy, though. And Akara had spent virtually no time in it. "Please. Make yourself as comfortable as you please." He invited, feeling fatigue descending on his head now that he had time to decompress a little. Akara fight back a fuzzy wave of slumber and stretched his arms out, offering the blue-haired woman a smile. "I fear I may not be an extraordinary help in the kitchen, Kirasath, but with your direction and patience, perhaps I may yet be an asset."

If he sat down, sleep would follow soon after.

Kira set about familiarizing herself with the grace and comfort with which Akara had seen warriors appraising armories and gear. A smooth hand and steady eye, flowing from one matter to the next, confident and deliberate - but not quickly, yet. It was not unlike watching a martial artist begin their exercises and rote forms. It was admirable, it reflected a breadth of training and cultural conditioning that was unique to her portion of the world. Even if the West's treatment of it's women was often a disgusting thing, it produced a form of excellence and in that alone, retained value.

But enough thought. He'd been given a task! Akara was yet unwilling to venture into the private holdings of the families who lived here, and so he set about gathering what he could find in his own space - which amounted to a pleasantly wide array of domestic seasonings and spices, as a home like this could afford to cook well, and the families had been eager to make a good impression on the young exorcist they'd hired. Akara was less at home in a kitchen than Kirasath was, by no small measure, but he was quick and possessed eyes as keen as his mind was sharp; what sort of detective could nut find the spices in their own kitchen?

In no time at all, Akara had arranged a selection of tiny bottles and jars in a rough semi-circle, proud of his contribution and eager to help more.

Akara knew a dismissal when he heard one. He wasn't upset by any means. He was hardly surprised. The deferential woman had turned into a dynamo the moment she'd set foot in a domestic environment - Akara, who was mostly observing to quench idle curiosity, was mainly in the way. Distracting, maybe. The young man was hardly going to turn down what looked to be the best home-cooked meal he'd had since leaving his mother's home, and if getting the hell out of Kira's way helped her process at all... He was gone.

Akara only returned to the kitchen long enough to sheepishly pot on water for tea, as he had little taste or tolerance for wine and didn't want to upset Kira by picking something inferior or contrary from the estate's wine cellar.

There was nothing left to do but sit. And wait. And stay awake. Akara distracted himself by appreciating the fluid work of Kira's knife skills, noted that the weather was remaining mild and pleasant, wondered if he'd have the energy for a bath before falling asleep. Idle thoughts. It was an abrupt change of pace, after all - three days straight of attentive service, followed by waiting as somebody made him dinner? Very abrupt. But pleasant. Being taken care of in such a simple way was a rare treat for a solitary traveler. Akara smiled faintly as he stared into space, eyes distant and lips pursed with thought.

Thought, and maybe a half-nap. It was hard to tell, and the comely, spunky little dereth had so much damned hair that it was near impossible to find his eyes with his head angled down as it was. But he was, for the moment, content and almost happy.

Akara was roused slightly by Kira settling beside him, but in the back of his mind, it was unimportant. He'd been up for days, and Kira hadn't given any indication of being a person he couldn't trust - his instincts on such things were honed enough that Akara didn't see any reason to doubt them. But then she seemed determined to wake him. It was fine. Shoooooulder rub. Akara leaned into the party happening across his shoulders like a pleased cat, pulled from his pleasant half-dazed state by her talented fingers. Hands on the table for a firm grip, back arching into the rub, eyes closed, nearly purring. Sitting lotus on a stone wall was a requirement of the past couple days, but this? This was a delight! 

Pity he hadn't remained half-awake for a little longer, yet. Kira took a seat, said something about sleeping on an empty stomach being unhealthy, and that was that. Stifling a small yawn, the Dereth nodded his head and cleared his throat. Even such a small nap as what he'd had did wonders for him. His mind felt sharpened, his strength somewhat renewed, and his eyes clearer. With a tremendous stretch, Akara reached for the heavens above - or, more realistically, the ceiling - to work the lax sleep from his biceps. "You are correct; thank you." He managed a moment later, folding his hands on his lap and shooting the western woman a grateful smile. "My mother often spoke at length at the importance of a large meal to end one's labors with - until I was grown, I'd always considered it to be the rationale for a mother of four boys, preparing simple food in bulk."

Akara leaned forward and casually inspected the meal before glancing up at Kira though his volumes of curls. "Now that I am, myself, grown? I can see the wisdom in it. And I'm grateful to you for your help in what I've so clearly failed to do for myself - this spread is fit for a prince, Kirasath. Thank you." And it was! Akara was something of a survival chef - he could cook what he needed to survive, but living on the road as he did, most of his meals were prepared by other people. Typically vendors when in the city, or preserved food when in transit. Having a cooked meal like this - prepared for seemingly no other reason than kindness - was a rare treat, indeed. Carefully, as though to not harm such a treasure, Akara lifted a piece of fish slathered in veggies and sauce to his lips, and sampled what Kira had prepared...

And then melted into his seat with an audible hum of delight, mumbling something complimentary in Flametongue.