It’s Satine, Actually

[Kiara]

Kiara had kept her presence understated as an impromptu training session broke out in the mess hall, simply watching in silence from her seat beside the door. She'd simply come to wait for the daily meal to be prepared only to gain herself ringside tickets to a bit of a show. The Gourmand versus a human... With a result that surprised no one.

Kiara's ears flicked back in an unhappy twitch as the Gourmand shouted out his displeasure, a sound that boomed uncomfortably to her more sensitive hearing. Just as the clang of the meal-time bell did -- though this sound at least signified something more pleasurable.

Lining herself up for a meal, Kiara found herself on the receiving end of not a plate but a cloth sack of meat. Seven pounds of assorted bits; some good cuts, others chunks that didn't make the grade for human consumption. Her stomach wasn't as picky. With sack in hand Kiara began to pad towards an empty table, only to pause.

Had she not spoken to her pride about the value of kindling kind feelings towards their fellow soldiers? The lioness glanced back at the pair whose sparring had now ceased, consideration in the red gaze. After a moment Kiara closed her eyes and summoned a deep breath to her lungs.

Before she could talk herself back into this being a bad idea Kiara trotted to hop up and seat herself across from the Gourmand.

[The Gourmand]

The Gourmand took his attention away. He beckoned a kitchen staff with a single finger. Though they seemed reluctant to approach, the Gourmand was able to mutter an apparently fairly lengthy, specific request and send them on their way. One might be tempted to call his lack of approaching the food line himself lazy... if it were not for the fact that he was the merfolk equivalent of paraplegic.

He seemed to think he had a good excuse.

He returned to the bench and focused on the kitchen door for the minute and a half it took them to bring his lunch out. What appeared took up the whole of a serving tray and seemed to be made up entirely of large chunks of meat and bone as well as several raw organs. There was also a quart of heavy cream set on the very edge. The Gourmand watched like a hawk when it was set down. He wasn’t terribly thrilled, but supposed it would have to do on such short notice. He would need to put in a detailed request for dinner; he couldn’t tolerate sub-par food.

When he lifted his head, he spotted something new. Frown grew more pronounced and he let out a breath of hot air from his nostrils. A hand was lifted and he picked up what appeared to be the calf of a sheep or goat, putting the whole thing into his mouth at once and crunching it. A tiny rivlet of blood trickled down his cheek and neck.

“I thought you were quite finished with me?” he commented to the young lioness.

The Gourmand swallowed and moved his gaze from Kiara to Fenna. He seemed perturbed, tilting his head. After a while he rolled his eyes and took what appeared to be several bear ribs from his plate. Extending an arm, he offered them to the teen.

“Nourishment.”

His heart seemed to be in the right place.

[Kiara]

Ears flicked back slightly though Kiara's expression remained unaltered at the Gourmand's acknowledgement. Her head dipped to her own meal, muzzle disappearing into the mounds of rough fabric before re-emerging with a flash of bloodied flesh disappearing between ivory teeth. Only when her mouth had been emptied did Kiara speak. Her gaze rested half-lidded on the Gourmand, barely screened by a veil of lashes.

"I didn't ask for them to step in." It felt necessary to point out. "I chose to challenge you on my own. After all..." Kiara's eyes skated to the seated human, a polite smile offered as her greeting even as she spoke. "I doubt you would have gone far enough to actually put an ally in the med bay."

At least that's what everyone hoped.

Kiara remained quiet for the time it took to take another chunk of meat.

"Besides, how could I ask my people to give others a chance if I can't do the same?"

[The Gourmand]

The Gourmand reached his hand to one side of him, and dragged his nails across the table as if to pick something up, but nothing was there. Glancing to his side he realized there was no rag there to clean himself with. Instead, somewhat begrudgingly, he swiped his tongue to remove the dribble at the side of his mouth. He succeeded in getting… most of it.

“I don’t feel it was their place to make that decision for you,” he stated.

Controversial probably, especially if anyone else involved came to know what he thought about the events, but the Gourmand wanted to get beyond feeling ashamed of himself. In his eyes, Kiara had made a decision, and it was no one’s right to take that away from her. He viewed all who trained and learned from him with respect, even if his methods were harsh. The Gourmand, who valued fighting so, thought trying to take that away was a slight.

Though he doubted at this point much of an attempt would be made by most Dawnseekers to try and understand how he saw things, the Gourmand continued in a level tone, knowing he couldn’t say later he didn’t try:

“There’s no guarantee I would leave my trainee entirely unscathed. That’s just the nature of being trained to fight. But no, hm,” he broke pace to give a brief chuckle, “I won’t be severely hurting or killing anyone during training. That would be incredibly… stupid.

“I’m intense because I know how the battlefield is. You need to be mentally prepared for the terror. You need to be able to push past it. I know how those Blackblood types think -- I believe that’s why I’m disliked here -- but they will not go easy on you, so neither will I. If you freeze up, if you’re unable to handle the strain… well, it’s better you know when you face me, than when you’re face to face with an enemy -- because they will kill you for it. All that said, I don’t expect everyone to be able to be a warrior either.”

The Gourmand dug his fingernails into one whole roasted chicken, causing some of the juices to run down his hand as it lifted up. He hesitated, slowly blinking to give Kiara eye contact.

“Just so you’re aware, I don’t level the actions of your family entirely upon you. You shouldn’t either. As far as I’m concerned, I won’t hold you accountable for them… they’ll be accountable for themselves.”