[Lyceum] Holy Smoke! (Nashira)

[Syllke Skyglow]

At first Syllke thought that he was right – by some odd coincidence this was a woman waiting for someone else – for he had heard that soft whisper. Caleb. Where then was Nashira, was his second thought. His gaze searched the harder in the shadows. Maybe the presence of the woman reclining in the drying fall grass of the lawn had put her off their own scheduled meet. He felt a bit put out, that this innocent interloper should have interfered unknowingly with his much anticipated lesson – and much more importantly getting to be with Nashira again. The woman was sitting up now, looking at him. Before he could ask her again if she needed any assistance – not that he really felt like giving her any – she spoke. Her questions totally confounded him. Was this woman a bit off in the head? Or was she waiting for some guy that wouldn’t even know her for who . . . His thoughts came to a screeching halt. She had risen and stood patiently, obviously waiting for an answer. And though the voices were a bit different, still . . . could it really be possible . . . ? Her words set it all in place, as his own reasoning could not. An Ethaefal – of course! Hadn’t he heard stories? But – he had thought those just tales the sailors that ventured to the far north liked to tell to entertain the supposedly gullible Vantha. But as Nashira spoke, for Nashira it must be, he understood – and was amazed. Speechless, for a moment, he stepped closer as she adjusted her pack – close enough so that he could see her well enough in the darkness to know that indeed she was a different being altogether. Very, very different – but still exotic to the Vantha’s eyes. Height and build, she was much the same as when he had seen her earlier. Her skin was definitely of a darker tone, though, and her hair as well – having lost its kiss of flame. The expression on her face was just as haughty, however, though he thought perhaps there was a touch of humor about it at the moment. No doubt she found his total ignorance amusing – but that was better than finding him irritating, or boring, right? As she stepped past him, he nodded, dumbly. Finally, with her eyes upon him clearly expecting an answer, a suggestion, a plan of some sort, he stammered, “Y-yes. Th-the hills – the slag heaps. It’s very dark up there, and a beautiful view of the ocean – as well as the sky.” He added the last in consideration of the fact that he was supposed to be interested in learning about the celestial bodies and not just the ones that had fallen to the earth. For somewhere in the back of his mind were the other bits and pieces of what he had heard about Nashira’s kind. Stepping quickly to catch her up as she had already set off along the road that ran up to the Lyceum, he asked, “Can you tell me more about your race, Nashira? Is it – is it true you fall from the sky?” He glanced at the woman who was now almost exactly his own height. “Are you – are you very old?” It was a rude question, but Syllke was so curious about this women – this entrancing creature – that he purposefully forgot what he knew about good manners. His eyes took in her nightly form and all he could think was how beautiful she was still, though in quite a different way.

[Nashira]

Nashira walked in silence for a few moments, holding the strap of her bag in her right hand, so that it would not fall from its lofty place upon her shoulder. When the Vantha spoke to her, she listened, considering his words, before turning to gaze at him. She lifted a single brow then, and lessened her pace so as not to stumble while she concentrated on him. How naive he seemed, yet eager to learn, but more about her than anything else. Why am I surprised? Nashira wondered, as she flashed him a delicate smile, a smile that vanished nearly as quickly as it had appeared. "Yes, all of the Ethaefal fall from the sky... I remember the day of my rebirth well, even though it was many, many moons ago now. In a place rather far from here," she paused for a moment, as though considering whether or not to go on, or how best to explain her situation. "Zeltiva was the place. Spring of 458 AV, was when it happened... do you think that makes me old?" she inquired, as she turned away from him and continued walking. Nashira had picked up the pace now that she was not speaking to him. Now that she was merely following his suggestion to go up and into the hills. It was her hope then, as she listened, that he would know the path she tread upon, and would not think her one so rude as not to listen. "Some of us fall by the light of the moon, others by the grace of Syna's sun," Nashira whispered. "Some of us follow the path of Syna's radiance, others follow that of Leth... they favor us, for we have lived many of our lives in their service. In my other form, I remember more of those lives. In this form, I remember only that which occurred in the life I led with this body." She paused for a moment. "Although, in this form, the memories are hazy. Few and far between." The Ethaefal cleared her throat. "Perhaps then, a greater understanding will come with Syna's light, when Leth falls from the sky to make way for another day." She smiled weakly as she glanced down at the ground. "The moon is a satellite Syllke. It orbits the planet we inhabit... naturally, it is shrouded in darkness. But by the light of Syna's sun, it glows, and becomes the wondrous celestial orb we view it as." "I think it's because of Syna's love for him. Leth. I think the moon glows to show his love for the sun. To try and match her radiance..." Nashira whispered, as she kept on walking. "And because they can rarely, if ever touch, those two lonely, star-crossed lovers, the moon changes. It waxes and wanes. As though displaying how he feels for her... how he gives up hope of ever seeing his beloved Syna, until finally, they come so close that they can touch the tips of their fingers together. It's as though, then, in that moment, that Leth's joy is renewed. He becomes stronger, shows more of his form to us. He lets us see more than his dark side," she whispered, as she glanced up at the sky, smiling as the stars shone in her eyes. "During the new moon, when we see nothing, Leth seems most depressed. For he has been without Syna for a long time. For the waxing crescent, when we see the celestial body's sidewise smile, he seems to be regaining himself. For in the first quarter, he is half there... holding onto hope. Then it seems to grow again, for the waxing gibbous, before he becomes full and whole. When he can see her again... and then everything declines. From full to waxing gibbous, to the third quarter, or the half moon. Then there's the waning crescent... and a return to the new moon," Nashira explained, before pausing for a moment. She turned to face the Vantha once more. "Do you agree? Do you think the moon reflects Syna's light to show his love for her? Do you think his form waxes and wanes to demonstrate how he longs to see her? To hold her once more?" she asked, thinking Leth a hopeless romantic. Much like she had been, when Caleb was still alive. The two had far too much in common. OOCA lot of this is just Nashira's interpretation of what she sees. Because a new moon occurs when the moon is positioned between the earth and the sun, etc. Resource: wikipedia, and past knowledge.

[Syllke Skyglow]

Even in the dark, Syllke could see that Nashira, in her night time form, looked far, far younger than the number of years spanned since her fall from the sky. “You’re fifty-three?” He asked, incredulously. “Yes, for a Vantha, that would be old already. But you look hardly older than me.” She had slowed, but now she began walking at a steady pace again, heading in the direction of the hills behind the town. Easily, Syllke kept pace with her long stride, falling in beside her, so that he heard her words, though they were only a whisper. What she spoke of increased his knowledge of her race a thousand fold over what he had known just a few minutes before. He listened carefully, for some reason compelled to hang on her every word. Her interpretation of this never ending love story fascinated him, and he thought Nashira would make a good Vantha, for she knew how to capture an audience – an audience of one, at least. When once again she came to a stop, asking him for his thoughts, he tilted his head a bit, considering her explanation. “Well . . . I do know the moon grows and recedes, and that it travels a path in the night sky that changes through the year, as the stars do. I’ve spent a lot of my life outdoors, and it’s handy to know how to find your way about by watching them in their dance. I never considered that Leth pined for his lover, but it makes a very good story.” To the boy, that was all it was – a tale such as the many he had heard, and the many he had told himself. “Would you like to hear a story about the moon?” He asked, as they once more began their ascent into the hills. “It’s not quite as romantic as yours.” If Nashira says yes, here is: Syllke’s story : "Long ago, in a hold far to the south of Avanthal, in a land where the summer sun danced in the sky long enough for Bala to bless the earth with growth, there lived a creature, far up on a mountain. It was Raven. He lived by himself, and was quite lonely, as he looked down to the village below, in the valley. He wished to make friends with the villagers, but when they saw his large size and huge black cloak of feathers, they were afraid and they drove him away. So alone he sat, in his mountain home. Below in the village lived a boy who loved always to be throwing things. He threw rocks. He threw sticks. He threw his little sister’s rag doll. Often the village elders scolded him and told him not to be so naughty and to behave. But still, whenever he came upon something handy, he would pick it up and throw it. One day a traveler came to the village. He was a trader and he carried with him some seeds. He told the villagers that they should take the seeds and plant them in the earth and ask for Bala’s blessings and a wonderous vine would grow curling out of the ground. From that vine, flowers would bloom and from these small green balls would form. The balls would grow and lighten in color and grow some more, until they were bigger then a baby’s head. Then the globes should be plucked, the traveler said, and sliced open, and inside would be the most delicious fruit they had ever tasted. It was called “Melon.” The villagers were very happy and eagerly traded furs and carvings and smoked fish for the precious seeds. But the naughty boy saw the seeds and when the elders were not looking, he stole them, and he ran far out into the fields. He began to throw the seeds as far as he could. One by one, further and further they went. Most dropped to the ground. But one went sailing – high, high, and higher. It did not stop, until it was far, far up in the sky. And still it kept going, until it finally stopped way, way, way up in the heavens. The boy was amazed. When the villagers found out what the boy had done, they were furious. He had wasted the precious seeds! They had traded all their goods for nothing – and now they would never taste the most delicious fruit ever. They beat him and sent him to bed without supper. That night, hungry beyond belief, the boy crawled out of the hold and went out in search of some summer berries to ease the pain in his stomach. He looked up in the sky and he stopped, his mouth open. It was night, and the sun had set. This was a time before there was any body that shown in the night sky. But the boy stood and stared because now there was something up there. It was a small sliver of orange – right where he had seen the wonderful seed plant itself. He watched and it slowly rode through the night sky, lending a pale but beautiful light to the land below. Finally the boy went to bed, too amazed and fearful to tell anyone of what he had seen. But the next night, when he stepped outside, to see if the sliver was there again in the dark sky above, his mouth opened wide – for now the sliver was bigger. Not by much, but definitely bigger. He watched this strange new being slide through the inky darkness, and finally went back to bed. The next night was the same, and the one after that the same again, with each night the orange slice growing larger still. On the fifth night, frightened and dismayed, the boy finally summoned up his courage and went and called the elders to come see. The old men looked skywards in disbelief as the boy tearfully told them what he had done – how he had thrown the one seed so far that it had sailed right up into the heavens, and now . . . well, it looked like it had sprouted. The elders were shaken and confused and afraid, and they talked and muttered amongst themselves, but they could think of nothing that they could do about this odd happening. For many nights, the villagers would watch the evening sky anxiously, and when the sun departed and the heavens darkened, each night the sliver would appear, larger and larger with each passing day. Another discovery was made, one which brought some joy to the village but which was overshadowed by the growth of the seed in the sky. When the boy had gone out to look at where the other seeds had fallen to the earth, he found the vines the traveler had spoken of already sprouting. Each day the plants grew tremendously – perhaps Bala had already blessed them. Within a few days, the fruit was bigger than a baby’s head and hesitantly, one was plucked, and warily sliced open. Inside, the villagers were amazed to find a fruit the exact color of its brother in the sky. So it was that the villagers now knew for sure – the thing in the night sky was indeed – a melon! When the villagers tasted the firm, juicy flesh of that first melon, they smiled broadly for the first time in many days. It was every bit as sweet and delicious as the traveler had said. They ate and ate of the wondrous orbs and for a while, they were happy. But when night fell again, their smiles and their happiness vanished. The orange slice was now almost a big, glowing circle of light. The villagers were afraid. What if the melon in the sky never stopped growing? What if it grew and grew and grew until it filled the whole night sky? What if it pushed the sun out of her rightful place and never again would they feel her warm kiss or bask in her bright light? What would they do? What could they do? The villager elders held a long, long meeting. They talked for hours and hours and hours. Then finally, they came to the boy and said, “We have an idea. Because you are the cause for all this trouble, it will be up to you to try to fix it. We want you to go up on the mountain, to the home of Raven. Raven is a big bird, and always hungry. He is brave and bold, and you must be too. Ask Raven to fly into the sky and eat the melon. Then the skies will be safe and the sun will not have to run away. The boy considered this carefully and then nodded. It seemed like a good idea, and though Raven was big and scary, he knew he needed to be brave to help his people. So off he went, climbing and climbing and climbing until he was almost as high as the clouds. Finally he reached Raven’s home. Respectfully and politely, but with his heart in his throat, he greeted Raven as an elder, and he asked, “Raven, the people of my village below have need of your services. We must ask a favor of you. In return, the elders say they will grant you any boon that you would have.” Raven cocked his shiny black head and looked intelligently at the boy with his bright, dark eye. “Tell me what you would have me do, boy.” He croaked. The boy, thankful that Raven was not trying to eat him, pointed up to the sky, which even then was beginning to darken. “You have seen the strange object in the night sky, and how it grows bigger and bigger? It is a melon, like this.” The boy held out a slice of melon for Raven to see. “I was naughty and threw a seed up so far it planted itself in the sky. And now it grows bigger and bigger still. We are afraid it will grow so big it takes over the heavens and chases away the sun. We thought, perhaps, that you might fly up there and eat the melon. Then we would not have to be afraid.” Raven looked at the boy thoughtfully, then pecked with his sharp beak, but not at the boy – at the melon he held in his hand. Raven took a piece of melon in his mouth and tasted the sweet juice and soft flesh. Slowly he nodded his head. “I will do as you ask.” He said finally. The boy smiled and smiled, and asked, “And what boon do you require?” “I will tell you that when I return.” Raven replied, and launching himself off the mountain, he spread his great dark wings and soared up, higher and higher. By the time he reached the melon in the sky it was a huge round circle. Slowly and methodically, Raven began to eat. He ate and ate and ate, and ate some more. But the melon was so big that he could only reduce its size by just one small slice, and that took all night. Finally, he was so full he could barely fly, but he glided back down to the mountain where the boy waited for him. For many days, the raven flew back into the night sky and ate away at the melon, bit by bit, until finally one last night it appeared to be gone. For the last time, he flew back to the boy. The boy smiled broadly, relieved at last. “Thank you, Raven. Many thanks. Now, what will you ask of us?” Raven looked at the boy in a kindly way. “All I ask is that you and the other villagers be my friends, and allow me to come live amongst you, for I am lonely.” The boy’s face fell a bit. For himself, he was happy to be Raven’s friend, for he had seen that Raven was a clever, gentle soul. But he did not know how the others would feel. But – they had agreed. “Alright.” He said softly. “Come with me then.” Raven happily followed the boy down the mountain until they reached the village. There they were met by smiling villagers who were overjoyed that the sky melon was gone. But when the boy explained Raven’s request, they scowled and grumbled. But at last they agreed, grudgingly. They had promised – they would keep their promise, for now. Many whispered that, as the sky melon was gone, perhaps in a bit they could find some excuse to shoo Raven away. But – clever Raven. He knew of the treachery of men, and he had eaten all but one small bit of the sky melon. The next night, a tiny sliver appeared again, and over the next days, it grew, larger and larger. The villagers were unhappy once more, and once again, they asked Raven to help. So when the melon was a big orange circle, Ravn flew up and ate away at it, until finally once more it was gone, though he was careful to leave a small piece. And so it was that Raven and his kind came to live amongst man, a somewhat unwelcome guest, but always happy to eat up anything man deems unwanted. The sky melon still rides above us, for Raven is always too clever to eat it entirely. The boy and Raven grew very close and were great friends, with Raven whispering wisdom into the boy’s ear so that when he grew up, he became a respected and admired elder of his people."

[Nashira]

Nashira laughed. A hearty laugh that filled the night air, and rivaled the sound the crickets produced. It seemed to bounce off the tops of the hills as it rang across the uneven terrain. "If you think we've gotten to a point in which we share stories, then perhaps it is only fair," the Ethaefal replied, once her laughter had begun to die down. "Now that I've taken the time to entertain you, it's only good and proper that you do the same. Don't you think?" she asked, as she fell silent, and waited for Syllke to begin his story. During its telling, Nashira remained silent. The only sound that came from her being her gentle footsteps across the hills. The curling of green grass stalks beneath her steps; the gentle crunch of them all being pushed into the ground beneath her boot. When it was over, Nashira finally spoke. "You're right, that is no where near as romantic... nor is it anywhere near as sensical. You honestly believe that the moon is but a piece of fruit?" she asked, as her foot dislodged a single stone. Causing it to cascade down the length of the hill, towards its base, where it came to a sudden stop. She waited a few moments for a reply, before answering her own question. "While it's true that we don't know precisely what it's made of- considering that we have come to the conclusion that the moon is comprised of three layers, each of a different set of materials, it's highly doubtful that the celestial orb is a giant piece of fruit, all the same." She paused a moment, to lift her bag a little higher onto her back before continuing. "It is more than likely a mixture of the elements- the crust containing oxygen, iron, and magnesium, among other things, while the mantle is made up of minerals. The core, mainly iron..." her voice trailed off for several moments. "Or at least, that's what my old astronomy professor thought they would be made of. Something to do with how the moon alters the sea... the waves..." Nashira remained silent for a long time, until she had risen to the top of yet another hill, where she eased her bag over her shoulders, and let it fall to the ground with a gentle thud. "This should do Syllke. It's as good a place as any to see the stars." With that, Nashira sank to the ground, and assumed the lotus position. She tilted her chin up, and cast her gaze upwards, towards the night sky. The stars sparkling in the dark center of her pupils. The moon casting her caramel colored skin in its milky glow. "Aren't they lovely?" Nashira asked. "It's like they're smiling down at us." She stifled a laugh before turning towards Syllke. "I wonder why. What they think is going to happen." Her lips curled into a slender smile as her eyes flashed mischievously. Her cheeks having taken on a light pink tint, similar to that which she wielded throughout the course of the day. They felt somewhat warm, as though Syna were caressing them with her golden-colored rays. As though she had just given Nashira another of her tender kisses. "They do seem to have a mind of their own, don't they?" Shira whispered, as she looked back up at them, trying to discover which of the constellations were visible from Denval, during this portion of the year. OOCResource: universetoday.com

[Syllke Skyglow]

Syllke wasn’t convinced that Nashira’s description of what the moon might actually be composed of was any more appealing than his own fanciful version. But he said nothing more until they reached the top of the hill they were ascending. He flopped on the ground beside the Ethaefal, leaning back completely, his head resting on his arms which were crossed behind it. For a moment, he started up at the stars. But then his gaze slid sideways to stare at the woman beside him. As her attention was directed heavenward, he was able to look at her fully, taking in her still exotic features, despite the fact that she no longer had horns. Suddenly, her head turned and she was looking at him. With a guilty start, he rocketed his eyes skyward. “Yes, very lovely.” He murmured, though he wasn’t thinking about any stars. But he did consider her speculative statement for a moment. “If they are looking down at us, what a lot they must see. I wonder if then they are happy to be up there, or sad?” His lips pouted out a bit as he mused. His eyes came back to earth and he looked over at Nashira. “But I don’t think they have a mind of their own – their courses are too set, too regular. I think if they were truly free, their dance would be much more exuberant. And at times it would slow altogether. For that’s what it means to be free, right? Good times and bad – nothing predictable or steady – not forever anyway.” Syllke rolled onto his side to look at her more fully. “Do you know what you were in your other life – the one whose form you wear now? Is that when you knew Caleb?” Ah, Syllke – the soul of tact and discretion . . .

[Nashira]

Ah... another one who simply cannot keep his eyes off of you, the Ethaefal thought, as she watched the Vantha jump. Another one who fails to recognize the beauty that lingers within the stars. Another one who only finds it in another's flesh... Nashira's thoughts were cut off as she forced herself to whisper in response to the Vantha. "They must be happy, for they sparkle so," she began, before pausing for a moment. "They must always be fixated on something of great beauty. Something that causes their souls to soar- two people in love perhaps. A romantic setting- a forest filled with trees, a valley filled with roses that sway in the wind. Dance for them until they all tire, and sleep for the night, much as everything else is supposed to do." She paused again. "Perhaps all the beauty that exists in nature fills them with a bit of longing though. An inkling of regret, for they cannot be a part of our world... they must stay in one all their own. For us to enjoy the sight of, much as they may enjoy the sight of ours." She swallowed the clump of saliva that had gathered in her throat, "do you think they talk about us? Whisper to each other about how far away we seem? What it would be like to belong to this place, instead of their lofty perch within the night sky?" she asked, before growing silent for a long time, waiting for Syllke to respond. Perhaps, though, he would never get a chance to now. For as soon as the name Caleb reached Nashira's ears, every muscle in her body tensed. Rippling angrily beneath her caramel-colored flesh, as her eyes grew a little wider. Angry, and lined with an edge of pain. Instinctually, her hand inched closer and closer to the hilt of his old sword. Until her fingers danced lightly over its length. She was tempted to draw it. To let is point rest between the Vantha's beady little eyes, before she pushed it into his skull. Before she let his ice-cold blood run free. "How do you know of Caleb?" Nashira hissed, the fiery appearance of her form earlier in the day, returning to her voice. OOCOooohhhhhhhh someone is not going to be happy with you, now that you know... especially because Caleb wasn't brought up on her own terms. Tsk tsk!

[Syllke Skyglow]

Syllke half listened – he was more intent on hearing the tone of her sultry whisper than what thoughts she actually had to impart. That tone certainly did an about face at the mention of that one name. Syllke was not so enchanted as to miss the acidic burn in her voice and the ice in her glare. His mouth dropped open a bit and his head physically moved back, like a turtle’s, trying to evade her obvious ire. Still, he managed to say, “When – when I came upon you, on the lawn. You – you said his name. I didn’t know it was you, then, of course . . . but, now that I know that it was you, I, I . . . “ The boy was gabbling, but her look was enough to make any man speechless. “I . . . was just curious.” He said, lamely. “When you said it, you sounded so, so . . . “ He allowed his eyes to hold her for just one fleeting moment. “So – um . . . “ What word could he use and not be even more offensive? Sexy? Sultry? Sensual? . . . Hot? Somehow he didn’t think she’d appreciate any of those. “So . . . happy.” Well, and that was true. Under the rest, he had heard the almost purr-like contentment in her voice earlier. Whoever this Caleb guy was, he had certainly been on her good side. Lucky bastard.

[Nashira]

"You what?" Nashira growled, as her eyes bore into the Vantha's flesh, more than likely causing it to grow warm, and then scalding hot. Causing him to feel the heat, the intensity, of Syna's sun. The wrath of a small portion of Shira's patron goddess, the bit she stored within the confines of her heart. He probably felt as though he were melting, caught in a relentless summer's day. Or at least, Shira liked to think that the Vantha felt so, it brought her a strange sense of peace, of comfort, to see the man so taken aback by her sharp and sudden change in behavior. A sense of serenity when she knew, she still held a small thread of control over him, even when she had released him from the web of her hypnotic djed. "Happy?" Shira finally growled, raising her brow into a higher arc. Happy doesn't even begin to describe what that dream felt like. What it was to in that moment of time, be back with him. To bring him back from the dead. To feel Caleb's bare flesh against my own... Happy? Nashira's brain practically spat. Is that what he calls being filled with lust? With longing? With love? Nashira shook her head lightly. Just how foolish was this boy? "Happy?" Shira asked again. "Are you sure that is the word you wish to use Vantha? Or did another come to your mind, before that one? Perhaps a list of words to describe how I sounded?" Shira's fingers curled around the hilt of Caleb's old sword. Her palm pressed into the gentle curve of it. Everything felt so cold, as she slowly inched the sword out of its scabbard. She could almost hear it ringing into the night, past the sound of the crickets, the angry hammering of her heart. She eyed the blade hungrily, as the moon shimmered off the silver sheen of her weapon. Perhaps, given time, it would acquire a reddened glow. OOCNashira does not free the sword from its scabbard in its entirety, she merely pulls it out a few inches.

[Syllke Skyglow]

It was hard to say which sound alarmed Syllke more – the dangerous tone of Nashira’s voice, or the shinnnng of the sword being partially extricated from its sheath. That she seemed to have read his mind was a bit terrifying too – for if she had seen what words he had stumbled over, searching for an acceptably polite one, then surely she saw . . . No, he had best not think of that again! Slowly – ever so slowly so as not to make any sort of sudden move that might seem threatening – he rose to sit upright. His hand drifted out towards Nashira, in a placatory gesture, palm outwards – a clear sign of peaceful intent and desire. “You are right. There were others that came to mind.” There seemed no point in lying to her if she could truly see his thoughts. “I meant no disrespect. The body reacts as it will – but I was trying to be more courteous than my instincts. You’re a beautiful woman. The man, this Caleb – who makes you feel so . . . warmly . . . towards him – he must be very special. I’m sorry – it was rude of me to ask. Curiosity, as they say, killed the cat. But . . . “ He paused, thinking that had perhaps been a bad choice of words. The young artist had risen to his knees, now, sitting back on his heels, both palms extended, as if he would ward off a blow – though hands were not much of a shield against a sword. “Please – Nashira. I meant no harm. Could you not overlook my mistake? If – if you wish, I will leave.”

[Nashira]

Nashira grit her teeth as her eyes flashed menacingly. They seemed to dance with the fiery orange glow of her mistress, her patron goddess, Syna. "Caleb is dead," she growled, as she inched her sword a little farther out of its scabbard. "He has been dead, for a long, long time," she continued, as she rose to her feet, and released her sword from its bind. She held it tightly in her hand, allowing the light of the moon to cause it to shimmer. Slowly, she raised her free hand to the hilt, and placed it just below the first, allowing it to strengthen her grip, and keep the weapon steady. "This sword belonged to him," Shira went on. "It's difficult to say if he would have wanted me to have it. But it is mine, nonetheless, and I know how to use it well enough, should that be my wish." Nashira lowered the sword, allowing its point to rest in the space between Syllke's eyes. "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't cut your tongue out for prying into my personal life. And surely, trying to wiggle your way into my bed," Shira growled. "One good reason not to use the strength of my current form. My Myrian form," Shira added. Hoping that the boy could understand the implications of her current race. Their strength, their cunning, their physical prowess, and blood lust. Their desire to feast upon raw, human flesh. "One good reason not to slice you open and feast on your flesh," Nashira finished, wondering if he knew of her culinary interests, when the light of Syna's sun was not caressing her skin. When Leth's moon was. When she actually longed for food, for sleep, for water, and drink. For all the necessities of a more natural life. One good reason to spare him, and let him share this story with any he wishes.