Dust In The Wind (Closed)

[Nashira]

Nashira chuckled. "If you say so," she replied before falling silent a time. Simply walking and listening to a man whose mind seemed unbelievably scattered. Kicking several grains out ahead of her as she moved, listening to the nearly inaudible swish of their cascade. "It depends," she said after a time. "Sometimes it can teach you valuable information. Sometimes you can carry over the knowledge of skills you were once gifted in by simply recalling what has already come and gone. But that doesn't seem to happen very often. So for the most part, it seems to have no effect on how we carry out our lives now." The Ethaefal paused. "The only thing that lingers is our attachment to the sun or the moon. Depending on whose child we are. From whence we fell from the sky." Nashira offered the half blood a small, knowing smile. She supposed he was too young to truly understand. Supposed that the language barrier that held between each of them didn't help the matter either. "You mean a scoundrel," she corrected, before taking a deep cleansing breath, in through the nose and out through the mouth, before falling silent again. Her mind wandering. The Ethaefal's eyes dancing over the shifting sands. "It is beautiful," she whispered under her breath as spittle set into the sand. Darkening it for a time. Her brow furrowed a moment, as her nose upturned. She knew she should have hidden her unease a little better, her disgust, but she couldn't. So it splayed across her features for a few ticks, before fading away into oblivion. For the rest of the trip she remained silent. ____________________________ Nashira made it into the camp just a few paces after the half blood. She gave the area a cursory glance, making note of the horse and sparse belongings, strewn across a sandy bed. This is it? Not much of a camp, she thought to herself as she sauntered into its center, pulled off her sword, and sat down before placing the weapon in her lap. Her eyes following Treksha as he went about his business. "Don't forget the water," she whispered as her body shifted in the sand. She had a feeling it was going to be a long day. OOCSorry this is awful. Talking and travel have never been a strong suit.

[Treksha]

The Benshira was so fascinated by the things the woman said; whether it was because of the truly interesting topic or his confused state of mind, he could not tell. It truly would be splendid to know the things he had once done, as another person. He adored knowledge just for knowledge's sake, and his mind further reeled at the thought of all he could learn. At the mention of the attachment to the sun and moon, Trek's eyes lit up. She had spoken of her affiliation with the sun - did she really have such a developed relationship with such a distant figure? To know so much of a goddess, that would truly be the way to know whether they were worthy for worship. Yahal had fallen so far short of that goal, perhaps another could measure up? "Er... Yes, a scoundrel." It was so strange to talk to this woman, she treated him as a child. He admitted he did not know much, but that did not excuse someone from acting as if he knew nothing. "Yes, Ahnatep. A city full of gold and evil." ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The tall man smiled softly as they entered the camp, moving to Nihael's side. The Desertbred nickered happily at the sight of his rider; he had been away from the camp all day, and the steed had been waiting for much too long. Trek smiled, pulling an apple and his full waterskin from the horse's side and holding out his hand for the horse to grab the fruit. Once it had, he took a large gulp of water, careful not to make himself sick with the liquid he so craved. Instantly his eyes cleared a bit, but the water needed some time to process - perhaps he should tend to his company? "I am sorry, I did not realize that I had acted so strandedly. Strandedly?" He smiled in a small, cagey manner, as if finally realizing he should have been a bit more wary with the woman the entire time. "I see you have a weapon. A greatsword? Like you would to spar, perhaps?"

[Nashira]

The Ethaefal offered the half blood one of her warmer smiles, remnants of the sun as it trailed from the sky. Several colors stretched thin over its surface, as the halved orb continued to sink past strings of purple and soft pink. "You mean strangely, dear Treksha," Nashira corrected as her right hand idly danced over the sheath's surface. Her eyes following undulating fingers. Noting the sense of reverence it was given, as though by simply running over it, she could replace the feel of supple, slightly swollen leather boiling in the sun's wake with her memory of Caleb's skin. The gnarled bits, twisted beneath the weight of endless work at sea. Coils of invisible rope, which wound themselves all around his body as though they were two headed serpents seeking the juiciest bits on which to sup. Fine hairs interwoven over a bed of lightly tanned flesh, still smelling of the spray of the sea. Still tasting like salt, being that he always waited until morning, just before he left for work, to wash up from the night before. Assuming, he hadn't gotten himself particularly dirty that day. Sometimes, Nashira wondered if that was one of the things she had always grown to like about him- he always carried a bit of his mistress with him. Sighing as the memories continued to flood her, Nashira forced her hand to stop moving. For her nails to stop scraping the leather casing. "It's a bastard sword actually," she whispered, as she kept her eyes on sparkling flesh. "It belonged to a friend of mine once. A long time ago..." The Ethaefal fell silent as her molten amber eyes lifted, allowing them to catch the half blood's own. "We could spar if you'd like," she responded, as she came to her feet and moved a few paces closer to her opponent, before strapping the sheath to her waist. From there, she brought her right arm across, and allowed her fingers to twist around the black wire hilt. A second later, Nashira had torn the blade from its bed, releasing a near silent hiss into the thick desert air. Her eyes narrowed into slits, which she kept poised on the half blood as her left hand came forward, and braced the right. Holding the hilt about an inch below the dominant hand. Her right foot slid forward, all toes directed towards Treksha, while the left foot lagged about eighteen inches behind. It was turned towards the left, so that together, her feet formed a ninety degree angle. Smiling wickedly as she brought the blade down, allowing the hilt's lowest point to become near level with her hips, Nashira asked, "are you ready Treksha?" as she steadied her hands and assured that her blade was righted. She'd wait but a few heartbeats for the half blood to reply or otherwise acknowledge her before coming forward. Bringing the sword down and to the left on a slight diagonal, before, once within range, sweeping it back up towards the man's shoulder.

[Treksha]

"Ah... Er, one moment!" The Benshira had left his weapons lashed to Nihael's side, and so he turned to jog to the steed. From the creature's side he pulled a staff of a height equal to his own, its dark red colour standing out oddly from his golden grip. Jogging back to stand before the Eth, Trek smiled and took his stance. He had trained by himself since he was a very small boy; his stance was unique to him due to this, and his style of fighting with the long pole was invented to suit him specifically. He found himself standing, looking directly in the eyes of the woman who had accepted his offer to spar. The redwood staff tucked under his right armpit, his non-dominant side leading, Trek stood quite low, bending his legs and reducing the amount of his body that was exposed. His left hand was extended toward his sparring partner, clenched into a fist and palm side toward Nashira. The staff spun quickly between his fingers, first travelling upward and then back into its position under his arm. The manouevre was flashy and useless, but he had discovered that it could be quite intimidating... ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- An aging man was smiling down at him, his weathered face looking so tired, as it always had. A young Trek was showing his father what he had taught himself with the long poles, the ones they used to mix the dyes and tan the hides. It saved them from having to trudge through the foul-smelling mixtures used to tan, but his father never thought he'd do something like this with them! "Father! Look what I've done!" The boy's hand flashed through the motions of a manouevre he had made, spinning the pole from under his arm to above his head and back, causing his father to jump back. "Careful, boy! You'll kill someone with that! Anyone sees you do that, they may kill you! Or, well, run..." And he heard his father's laugh, the boom of his all-encompassing pride... ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 'I am prepared, yes." The woman's sudden movement caught him off-guard; he had only ever sparred with those of equal capability, and this woman obviously knew what she was doing. It was all he could do to jump back, avoiding the low shot, then stumble and fall while trying to retreat again to avoid the slash upward t his shoulder. He rolled, keeping his tightest grip on the pole he needed to defend himself, and tried to set his feet under him again, adopting his stance again with the staff instead brought before him diagonally, held with both hands so as to afford him better control as he fought defensively. "Hik!" As he said the Benshiran swear, he performed the action it described: He spit.

[Nashira]

Molten amber eyes smoldered; churning within the stomach of insatiable cauldron stirred by the hands of tainted blood. The coals glistened with ashen sweat, cascading down the length of charred stones. The grains shifted, a soft dusting billowing underfoot, where flames cast in a blue light stirred. Dancing beside blistering toes wiggling against tanned hides; sands intermixed with sparkling remnants. Golden colored streamers which glided effortlessly across a bead of glossed skin. Transparent beads trickling down the supple curve of a brow, a cheek, as gazes intermixed. Followed by the shuffling of steps as the Ethaefal chased her downed prey. Bringing Caleb's old sword back into its starting position as she stepped among the debris; a cloud of beige mist circling her ankles as she moved. Hungrily licking at her skin. "You trip over your own two feet," Nashira commented as the man began to right himself. She turned her sword on its side then, and brought it out to the right side, before sweeping it in. Bringing the flat against his skin, should he fail to avoid. "You fall too easily." There was a pause as she pulled her weapon back into a starting position, and stepped around the half blood. "Can you try to stay upright this time?" she asked, as she lifted the blade even higher, so that the point was far above her head. "Keep yourself from faltering?" she inquired, as she cut the weapon through the air, bringing it down towards Treksha's shoulder. The second she had struck, or even missed, the Ethaefal would force herself to retreat a few steps, taking on the defensive as she awaited the next opening. Another opportune moment to strike. Come on, the magic insisted as the hypnotist fought to keep their eyes locked together. It's best not to keep your opponent waiting, it added as Nashira's right hand moved in a clockwise fashion alongside the left, turning the blade on a diagonal across her chest.

[Treksha]

Seconds in and I've failed to impress, how horrible is this? Each breath focusing his mind, steady and slow, the Benshira attempting to watch every small motion of the woman and her blade. A single misstep and he knew he'd end up hitting the ground much harder than he had before; the woman's prowess with the large sword was obvious and one good swipe would have been more than enough to upend an inexperienced fighter such as himself. He knew his long kris would have given him the element of surprise, but in his rush to get the staff he currently used to defend himself, Treksha had forgotten the knife and had left it strapped to the flank of his steed. This rakva may be the end of me! I cannot lose too badly, if she were to spread word of my inability, I would likely never have a chance to impress the fickle people of this city... The flat of the blade that soared toward him caught the boy by surprise, but his reflexes kicked in just quick enough for him to narrowly avoid the brunt of the blow; the edge of the blade scraped against his shoulder, leaving him hissing at the pain but generally unharmed as he spun away from the Ethaefal. His feet caught him this time, and he twisted back into his stance, keeping his staff before him once again. He knew it was a bad idea to catch the edge of her large weapon with his pole, but Treksha had little else to do and his instinct was to bring the quarterstaff up at an angle to meet and attempt to deflect the incoming weapon. With the woman's quick retreat, her marvellous control dazzled the dyeworker. Such a swift retreat, even after a blow that could have severed my entire arm... He smiled softly at her interesting abilities, and his confidence grew slightly in the wake of her own. Switching from his defensive stance to one more suited to the attack he planned, Trek's staff was brought down to his right side, one end held toward Nashira. Once he had completed this gesture, he quickly leaped forward to jab at his enemy with the butt end - the attack was quite predictable and it left him open, but he cared little for that. He just needed to attack, for some reason.

[Nashira]

Nashira stood, waiting. Taking deep breaths, in through the nose, and out through the mouth. Her molten amber eyes never wavering their hardened gaze from Treksha's coiled form. The muscles which rippled beneath a bead of tanned skin, shimmering with sweat and golden reflections. She could tell that each tendril was waiting to spring, bringing a smirk to her delicate lips. Come on, the magic insisted. Come get me. The Ethaefal's eyes narrowed, as though she were trying to thin the rays which filtered through lightly curled lashes. Her gaze grew all the more harsh, as the rise and fall of her stomach began to slow alongside each of her breaths. Finally, after a few more ticks of the clock, the half blood attacked. Stabbing at the hypnotist's form with the base of his weapon. The Ethaefal, seeing it coming, rolled her neck back, as her chest came forward and back arched, ever so slightly as her shoulder too, inched back. Rotating against the bone so that the staff sailed past sparkling skin. With gaze stuck on the sky, Nashira rested for an instant, before forcing her blade across her form. Slamming the flat end of Caleb's old sword against the staff's side. Forcing it as far away from each of their bodies as she could manage. As soon as her initial attack had struck, Nashira would finish straightening her body out as she came forward. Forcing herself into the divide she had created. As she glided across the sand, causing several dusty vapors to swirl about her ankles, she'd sweep her sword back in. Hoping to drive the flat against the man's middle so that he would begin to crumple. When she had either hit or missed, she'd pull her weapon away a moment, before lifting it a little higher, and then slicing through the air. Bringing it down swiftly towards his right shoulder, to further weaken Treksha. Making him all the more susceptible to her attacks. Another breadth, and Nashira would be retreating. Falling to the defensive.

[Chimera]

Congratulations! Have a Chimera Coin™ Nashira Socialization 1 Hypnotism 2 Persuasion 1 Weapon: Bastard Sword 1 Chupbra - Slur for Benshira Location of Ahnatep Treksha's Camp Contact: Treksha Treksha Meditation 2 Running 1 Socialization 1 Weapon: Quarterstaff 2 The Pain of Sand Ethaefal Nashira: Desert Mirage Contact: Nashira ▩ A lovely thread. A pity it got cut short. Nashira, your descriptions are incredible - I almost awarded you storytelling before I remembered that Nashira wasn't actually telling any stories. PM me if you have any questions.