[Prairie] The Onus of The Pack and The Heart [Hadrian]

[Trente]

*
"What was that?" Matilis inquired tentatively.

Trente expressionlessly looked to his son, and hearing nothing parted his lips to respond, only to have the words fall short as Hadrian's eyes flick over the lifeless ground to a near by cliff, nary farther then a half dozen yards away.

Hadrian's eye betrayed concern, and more then a little curiosity. Before Trente could fear it Hadrian was on the move for a closer observation.

The familiar tingle of Hadrian's protective presence slipped along their skin as they quietly ran to the cliff side, sounds of unsatiated snarled erupting from a shallow valley beyond.

Leaving disrupted dust settling behind them, Trente unwary of the state of his clothes adopted a position on his chest in the loose soil and took a careful glimpse over the ledge before him as a dull unrefined shadow cast over him.

A look upward revealed Matilis, standing dangerously close to the ledge and peering over. Trente glared, and with a firm grip grasped the boy by the shoulder and forced him to the ground. Trente simply could not comprehend why the child could not follow examples set out before him.

All three sets of eye's returning to the valley floor revealed the source, or rather sources of the threatening cacophony.

A hunting part of five dusty black as the Sahovan night jackals of varying size all snarled and barked as they swiftly positioned themselves in a crest shape, blocking all escape from their prey, pinned against the cliff side.

The sight of their prey caused a troubled look to imprint itself upon each of the three observer's faces. A young unclothed child pressed herself against the gagged stone wall, cradling an arm bent in a painfully unnatural fashion with a bleeding other, and leaving craters of tears along her dirt packed cheeks that were visible even from the plateau above.

Before this child, standing with risen hackles was a lone black wolf, near starvation and smaller by far than the average yet fiercely leveling a glare of warning and retaliating growls on the hungry pack closing in on them.
*

[Hadrian]

Matilis should have stayed in Sunberth, perhaps with Kasai, preferably under the eye of the Knights of Syliras, but they were all here and this wasn't a perfect world. He could have wished that Trente had left him safely -- or relatively so -- behind when they came out to explore. But as the drama unfolded, he required that Trente do what he did best: stick close and watch his back. He continued to feed energy into the Shield that followed him, which would protect them from magical attack and ranged weapons, but these monstrous wolves who resonated on the Kelvic spectrum to his auristic sense. When he saw what he saw, he glanced back to see if Trente had caught up, whether he had seen, and whether he had hopefully covered Matilis' eyes. Hadrian was not one to overly shelter a child, but there were some things that could come easier than this. No child of Mizahar needed more fodder for nightmares. This required action. Of that, he had no doubt. At one time, he had been able to divorce his compassion from his action, meditate upon ethics without acting upon them. But now he was a teacher, a caretaker of children. His more selfish work continued, albeit slowly. His studies had garnered him power, and Mizahar would never be more than a dog-eat-dog world if the people with power did not protect and empower the weak and disenfranchised. His mind set to work. Eight enemy wolves in a pack formation, likely used to hunting as a group. Hadrian, Trente, and the one wolf protecting the injured girl. Then there was Matilis to protect as well, the which would require splitting their attention. He would not risk Trente's son, when it was only the luck of the breeze that they had not been scented by the pack. Hypnotism might work, but its effectiveness would be diminished across eight minds. Perhaps their pack mentality would work in his favor, but he could not risk it working against him. His best weapon would be reimancy, of course, but that could get messy. Best to disrupt the cohesion of the pack first. "Trente," he whispered, "we're going to have to go down there in a minute, so stay close to me and protect Matilis and my back." And then he invoked his gift from Ionu, threatening growls ripping out from all the hidden spots behind and flanking the pack. With the wind in Hadrian's favor, at least for now, they would not notice that there was no tell-tale scent. If they felt they were outnumbered, perhaps they would flee and this could remain a bloodless coup.

[Trente]

*
Trente wasted no time accepting the command. Pulling back from the ledge, he ignored the ominous sounds, hoping Hadrian had an intellectual plan, and spent his energy pulling Matilis to his feet.

"Stay between Hadrian and I." He hissed quietly, hoping the rumblings below would stifle the sound of his voice from the keen predators below.

Matilis complied with nothing short of a panicked expression.

Following Hadrian's lead, Trente left his blade sheathed for mobilities sake, as the pack jumped nearly out of their skin at the ominous echoes of the ghostly pack closing in on them below. Never had they encountered another pack, but something deeply engrained in their psyches caused alarm, and instinctively they turned their back to the lone wolf, and the prey, to face the concealing rocks and sparse shrubs around vainly seeking a visual on the threats allied against them.

It took one particularly observant kelvic to queue the rest to the shadow moving along the far wall overhead, opposite where the three humans perched. A detailed they felt no inclination to pay too close of attention to at that time, but would not forget when the winds finally changed.

They found themselves cause between a healthy fear of Sahovan predators superior to them, and an overwhelming need to eat, and thus protect their food.
*

[Hadrian]

The cacophony of the ghostly pack only increased, and if there was a shadow to warn the other pack, it only gave them an idea of where one of the pack members hid. More voices made themselves known, and if the illusory pack had been real, the pack below would have been woefully outnumbered. Logic and survivialism ought decree their flight, but one could never tell once sentience was thrown into the mix. Hadrian took Matilis' other hand. There had been so much horror in the boy's life since Trashava had found them, and Hadrian could only hope to be a positive force in his life. He wanted to believe that Trente would step up and be a father to him, but if he would not, Hadrian had already assumed the mantle of all-father at the Farson Home. Matilis would be safe if Hadrian had anything to say about it. He prayed that the pack will would break, that the weaker members, at least, would flee. That would leave the stronger wolves, perhaps, but there would be fewer of them, and they would be more easily dealt with. When nothing happen, he reevaluated. He held Matilis closer and whispered to Trente, "This is going to get loud, and flashy." Then the howls and growls were subsumed by a sudden snap, and a boom from above. The noises weren't real, and wouldn't hurt their ears, but since he could only beguile one sense at a time, there came a deathly quiet as he changed to a visual illusion. From above, from whence the sounds presumably came, grew a light, which grew as it plummeted, until it seemed a fiery dragon out of legend was descending upon the pack. "If they flee, we have to get to the girl and her protector," he whispered fiercely.

[Trente]

*
A cool blaze of flames assaulted the ground with epic proportions and the prairie shuddered for miles around with a mighty quake of fear. Hadrian and his gnosis had announced himself to the harsh creatures of Sahova and they responded with tactile reverence. With yelps and yips the creatures scattered with tucked tails, with one last baleful look from the leader who knew they must survive for their purpose. The onus of pack.

The canines fled as the three people descended the narrow pathway to the valley floor, Matilis nearly falling several times with the attention the illusion hovering above them demanded of the imposing Professor. Though the child's eyes cast upward to the visage of danger and death, only enough to swell his heart with idolization, Trente squinted against the fierce lapping of flames above vainly attempting to keep track of the sweeping shadows below, all while trying to piece out what protector Hadrian spoke of. The only protector that child had in the Syliran mutt's eyes was Hadrian, that other creature only wished a personal meal, and when the three broke even ground Trente's heart nearly halted at what he saw.

With eyes of sentient defiance the one lone wolf stood his ground, hackles risen, fangs exposed, tail straight up as he stared down the pillar of flames before it. Unlike the other creature's of the pack this creature overcame its instincts, its survivalism for purpose. And foolishly Trente believed this purpose starvation, and despite all of his reasonable doubt of nature he looked to the terrified girl, which looked human to his limited eyes, and the cool long sound of drawn blade echoed up the valley walls, enveloping the creature above them.

For every ounce Trente's heart threatened to stop, seeing the ferocity in the creature's eyes Hadrian's did. The learned Professor had met countless Kelvic before, he had what some would call an affinity for them. But never before had he felt this sensation. His second sight could nearly see it, the thin yet solid flash of silver twine, almost metallic, unraveling between them. His heart seized and his eyes instantly teared at the sight of the strong beast staked before the child. He felt its emotions, its undiluted courage, more so than one could hope from a dedicated Syliran knight, it reached to him through this invisible twine, this bond, and Hadrian knew in a moment that he could take it in grasp. This was the famed Kelvic bond, and he could feel it in earnest without effort. Not just a friendship, but a true fateful union.

How could such strong loving emotions, without reservation, ever exist? Before that moment, Hadrian would have no way of knowing they did. But, still, his chest swelled and thoughts trialled uncontrollably as if vertigo took hold of him.

Trente glared and thrust at the creature between him and the girl. She screamed, and the sound echoed enough to tempt at predators of the prairie. The Kelvic reared to its haunches and evaded the blow, responding with a terrifyingly vicious and expedient retort of jagged fangs. Trente did not withdraw but brought his off shoulder around and slammed into the creature as it lunged. What it lacked in finesse it made up for in force. Both went sprawling into the dirt and along the abrasive rocks. It naturally recovered quicker, and circled quarter the distance around the fallen Trente at the speed of a cast shadow before projecting itself through the air once more.

Trente's blade rose surely toward his aggressor and he braced against the soil with his other arm cast over his face and neck for a sacrificial protection. Doom encroached upon them both in what took only several moments.
*

[Hadrian]

The firedrake made the pack scatter, but it could not keep them away forever. Though it took only a little effort to maintain, as the power came from Ionu and moved through him, he was not a great illusionist. There would be no heat, no roars, and while he could work true pyromancy into the illusion, that would require a great deal more effort and they had to be quick here, extracting the girl and the wolf that seemed to be guarding her, and get back to the relative safety of the Citadel. "Quick, move!" he whispered, and led Matilis down by hand. As they neared their quarry, a misstep had him jostling Trente and Hadrian let go of Matilis' hand so he wouldn't bring him down as he fell to his hands and knees in front of the wolf. Though he had never experienced it before, he knew what had happened. There had been no question and answer, but something in him must have recognized something in the wolf, for he saw a silvery cord of djed reach out from the wolf's heart and enter his own. This was the magic of Marcus Kelvic, and he wondered if there was something of the fabled Drykas Web to it. His heart opened as he stared into those eyes, and he started crying. Matilis seemed torn between wanting to help Hadrian up, worried the fall had got him crying, and afraid of the wolf. And then Trente was attacking, and fear shot through Hadrian along with a flood of Flux'd energy. He hadn't even meant to do it, but there it was, instinctively. Of course he didn't want Trente to get hurt, but the thought of the wolf being hurt caused him physical pain. He felt the emptiness of its belly. "Trente, no!" he said, much louder than his strategic whispers, and launched himself at his colleague. But he was no warrior, and even with strength and speed, Trente could have skewered him if he wished. But he only knocked him out of harm's way and wrapped his arms around him from behind, trying to stop the violence. "The wolf is a friend," he said tersely, quietly in the man's ear. "We have to get him and the girl out of here before the pack returns! There are other things out here too." Remembering himself, he gazed upward, maintaining control of his illusion, their only protection right now. But the firedrake was low enough now there ought to be noise. Well, Hadrian would add noise another way. He cast his hand upward, though one still held tightly to Trente to maintain some abeyance, and the crimson res gouted upward to meet his illusion. Suddenly the Fire was very real, and the crackling and roaring too. Gusts of hot wind blew outward. Burning trees, burning dragons. Someone would notice soon that Hadrian had become something of a firelord.

[Trente]

*
Trente obeyed in confession, shielding his face as the heat of roaring flames licked down at the fateful meeting.

The Kelvic had met eyes with the peace maker as he gave a rare physical excursion to the save them both, and once the canine landed upon the dead ground of Sahova once more he could not bring himself to look again immediately. A singular sensation rose in his heart, a sensation he had reason to fear, but also proved too tempting to wish even a moment to fight. Hope. And he reeled from it.

Once the emotion settled in him, once Hadrian's face of love and sacrifice imprinted into his mind he looked upward toward the shrouded grey Sahovan sky and dramatic flaming drake above with a gallant howled, letting the dense sensation within his weak body seep from him and project over the land. It sounded a lot like victory, but it wasn't. It was aspiration and relief. It was the sound of an animal, and a man given hope and faith at the end of his life. Within moments of death, after his final resignation his life had finally begun.

With a bright gleam of light, mimicking that of the burning specter above, he effortlessly became a man. Blemished bare skin stretched unabashedly along him, adorned by long set wounds and fresh alike. He was thin, dangerously so, but necessary muscle veined under his pale exterior, hinting at a primal capability. The nails protruding from his frail fingers and toes bunched thickly, proving strong and sharp more like a canine's than man's, and set in a narrow strip from nape of neck to small of back ran an exotic line of not hair, but fur, sparsely distributed and matted from dirt and dried blood, complimented by matted wisps upon his small ears and angular elbows. And, though his eyes hinted at no unnatural coloring or shape an eerily intelligent and feral gleam came from them when the light of the fire caught them just right.

A gleam that caused Hadrian's heart to skip another beat when the man turned to face them again. Basking in Hadrian's visage again, and with severely broken common announced, "It's not safe here. Follow."

He moved with little grace in his under nourished human body, but an incredibly deliberate sense of primal force came with each movement and accompanied each word he spoke. Hadrian could feel, and with his auristics see the pain etched into each, the trials Sahova had laid upon him since birth, and Hadrian did not have to be told that his man had been waiting here his whole life for Hadrian, thought he couldn't know it. How miraculous it was that he had survived this long on his own, to this moment when they united. Empathy of more than just understanding, more than just auristics beat within him as the wetness on his cheeks seemed to make irrefutable sense with the guidance of the bond.

Trente glared at the beast man and squinted against the heat above as the Kelvic scooped the young girl from the ground, commanding her to hush for safety as she hissed against the intense shots of pain filling her shattered arm. Matilis, however, hesitated not when the man took off expertly into the woods. Without looking for queue from Hadrian or Trente he followed with an unwithheld sprint, stopping only a moment to check if his two companions would follow to safety.

The Kelvics skill in navigating the forest impressed the company without exception. Even Trente found challenge in matching his silence as he hovered along the dry ground, and found shelter in the skin of Semele herself, folded into a narrow crack in the prairie's expanse.

The chasm dropped several yards onto a narrow platform overlooking a deep and seemingly endless hole with the most unnatural glow of deep orange emitting from it's depths. The only control over decent was skillful pressure against each side of the narrow chasm which proved difficult for all involved, leaving a shallow laceration on Trente's back from his fall near the end, and a panic in his chest from when Matilis nearly spilled off the edge when getting passed down by Hadrian from above. Climbing proved to be none of their fortes, yet they managed because that is what Sahova demanded. The climb out would be the true challenge. But for that moment, they were safe.

The Kelvic set the child near the edge, leaned against the cold wall and pointed into the darkness, whispering quietly, yet having his words stolen from him and projected with clarity from each narrow wall surrounding them.

"There. Drink. Not from below the plant. From above." Sure enough, little more than a tiny trickle of water poured from the rock face only an arm's length from the natural platform's end. Just below the trickle, in the first place water met wall an aggressive looking plant had managed to sink strong roots into solid stone, and grew upward for the faintest rays of sunlight from above. The plan did not look healthy, but he was stronger than it speared, poisoning the water it touched with a deadly toxin that would prevent any competition for water, flora or fauna.

As the child reached her good hand out and cupped drops of water at a time to traffic to her lips the man turned again to lay eyes on Hadrian. He had no words as he observed his mate's peculiar appearance. The shape of Hadrian, so like his own, but different. His eyes shifted so dramatically, his skin was adorned with marks of light and living ink, when not shrouded by protective cloth. The sight of him stole breathe from the Kelvic and he just spoke what made sense, knowing that right then, nothing else had to be uttered. They both knew, they both felt it.

"Can you heal her? Her arm..." The girl sobbed reluctantly at the words. She knew the answer already. She would never use that arm again, which meant little to a human girl. But to her...

Matilis looked at Hadrian then his father, expecting somebody to console the girl, but when they didn't he moved to her side and kneeled with tentative care. He remembered the strength of the Konti, their way of projecting love and though he was no master of the art he tried. The arm looked bad, very bad. It wasn't just fractured or broken clean. Something had gripped it and ripped it back and forth, breaking it in several places. The real issue seemed to be the laceration fixed into the arm, run like proof of small gagged daggers along the thin child's arm. Matilis' stomach leaped with discomfort and when he went to look away he caught the close blink of the girl's eyes through the darkness. They were black, blacker then the darkness around them, and Matilis jumped abruptly at the sight, and would have moved back were there room on the ledge for such a movement.

"She is-" he paused, and looked back at Hadrian. "She is bleeding. We have to clean and tie up her wounds." He knew little more than that, yet still little more the rest of the group huddling in the dark bowels of Sahova.
*

[Hadrian]

Trente was safe, and Matilis. The Kelvic that had wormed his way into Hadrian's soul, and the girl. They were safe for now. Then in a flash, the Kelvic was a man, ever so slightly bestial, but a man. The state of him made Hadrian's stomach lurch, but the Kelvic's survivalist instinct kicked in, collected him, and when he indicated they should follow, Matilis doing so without question, Hadrian managed to pull it together too. He nodded to Trente; Hadrian, at least, trusted the Kelvic now with his life, and those of their companions. For the sake of the illusion, he cast it skyward, letting the true Fire sputter out. But the firedrake seemed to disappear into the banks of cloud overhead, occasionally lighting things up with hidden fire, and then disappeared entirely. And then he was following the Kelvic, whose name he didn't even know. There was that strange line of fur down his spine, but no vestigial tail. Strange. Most Kelvics he knew were hardly differentiated from humans save by their behavior and their auras. The walk through the woods was something of a blur, but the descent into the chasm was brutal. Even with the Flux'd energy to make him stronger, nimbler, he had no skill at this sort of thing. Matilis' near miss nearly gave him a heart attack, and even though he was no healer, he wanted to immediately see to Trente's back when he saw him injure himself. Hadrian himself made it down, of course, but dirty, battered, bruised, scraped, and bleeding. Barked knuckles, a nearly twisted ankle that was not hurt, but suddenly tender. He sighed and sat down when the Kelvic let them rest. But he let the girl go for the water, and Matilis next. The little ones. He could create water if he had to, and for a moment he stared at the toxic plant, wishing he had something to safely collect it for further study. Ah, well. He would be so lucky as to live, let alone bring a specimen along. Then he caught the Kelvic staring, and felt some strange nerve thing like a shock all the way down his spine. He wished that would stop happening, and yet he suddenly didn't feel so alone. His smile was shy and awkward. Well, they were always awkward. But then the girl. He stared at her, wondering why he hadn't paid more attention at least to his philtering and herbalism. He had no illusions that Rak'keli would ever bless him with her grace, though he mightily wished for it now. But Matilis stepped up and started to help the girl, and Hadrian glanced to Trente, hoping to see a flicker of pride there. "Matilis, do what you can for her. Tell us if there is something we can do to help. If we can get her back to the City, the knights from Syliras have healers who can easily set and knit a bone. She just has to be able to travel and," not bleed out, "be stable." He took a deep breath and gauged his internal reservoirs of power. "I can... help with the pain," he said. Slowly, he knelt before the girl, hands coming up slowly, palms visible so she could see he meant no threat. He would look to the Kelvic to help him persuade her of his good intent if he had to, but once he had her acquiescence, he settled his cool fingertips against her burning brow and let his powerful aura roll into hers, overwhelming it quite. First, waves of calm rolled into her, like the gentlest lapping of the sea against the shores of Syliras from his earliest memories. Then, he followed it up with a simple hypnotic suggestion, repeated over and over until the lines of strain began to ease up on her face and in her form. There is no pain. There is no pain. There is no pain. "There." He looked a little tired. "You're still injured, so be careful you don't make it worse. But Matilis, you can help her now. Do the best you can. I just need a moment to rest before we move on. If we're moving on..." He sat back against the wall, taking deep breaths to center himself. He was efficient with his power, but switching between so many was still taxing. His eyes rose to the Kelvic man, still ceding some leadership to him as he knew the lay of the land and knew what was really going on. Hadrian hoped he knew what was going on. Somebody had to.

[Trente]

*
No pride crossed Trente's face, just exhaustion as he pulled his own canteen out and drank from it, then returned it to his side, with a thirsty look from the girl Kelvic. Then, evoking an utterly confused expression upon his son's face Trente paused and drew the canteen up again, unscrewed the top and took it to her small slumped form. He kneeled and with more assertiveness then Hadrian's approach tipped some of his water, miniscule sips at a time, into her petite mouth.

His eye contacted provoked her to feel as if she should say something, and being young she wanted to form a bond with the handsome man. Trente felt it, but gently pushed it aside. It wasn't meant to be, and Trente had enough to worry about without having the girl bonded to him. "It doesn't hurt... anymore." She said softly, with a shaken accent.

This caused Trente's expression to soften slightly, as he reached his thumb up to wipe away a bead of cold sweat growing plump upon her brow to the side, then second the motion with a tear suspended upon her round cheeks.

Matillis looked up with a lost expression, frozen in thought at his father showed kindness the boy had never known the man to posses to an utter stranger. A quiet but stern tone broke him from his trance.

"Matilis, fix her." Trente's words came with a pointed look of disapproval, but in truth there was very little Matilis could do. He did not know how to create a splint or suture so he removed the shirt from his own back and used it to carefully bind the wounds, but the process was uncomfortable for them both and several times the girl winced despite the hypnotism seeded within her mind. Upon finishing the crude knots binding the shirt to the girl he sat beside her and chattered softly with her, the words bouncing unpredictably along the narrow stone walls about them. He spoke of the goddess Rak'keli and her healing light, and Trente in fact knew twice over what the boy spoke of. The child taught the Kelvic a prayer to Rak'keli and Trente let his attention shift back to Hadrian and the canine which were causing an awkward enough fuss to give an almost calming backdrop to their short rest.

When Hadrian lay his back against the stone the Kelvic wasted not a moment before giving a single movement, unabashed stepping to him. Uncareful of his delicate human knees he knelt, with a leg on either side of Hadrian's and pressed his surprisingly strong right palm against the human's chest, with enough force to pin him to the wall without quite a struggle, which would prove dangerous by the deep endless pit. He then pitched his face forward toward Hadrian, and just before it seemed as if he may do something obscene his nostrils flared and he took on a heavy breath through his nose. He tilted his head and, still holding Hadrian to the wall, smelt him from head and downward, filling himself with the man's scent, and familiarizing himself with the man's body.

The Kelvic himself was not without a noticeable scent in his human form, and thought not utterly pleasant it translated along their bond with an almost endearing wildness. He smelt like Sahova, almost sterile in it's decaying way. Baren, yet old. He smelt like Sahova to Hadrian's limited senses, but his skin and mind held so much more to the Auristic's probes.
*

[Hadrian]

Hearing Matilis minister to the girl was soothing, at least for Hadrian. Sometimes he wanted to snap at Trente the way he treated his son, or just take him away from him. His own father had been distant, but at least he hadn't been an asshole. But they would talk about that if, no when, they got out of Sahova in one piece. Well, three pieces. Or four now there was this Kelvic in his heart. Strange, so strange. At least the prayer to Rak'keli was calming, and a part of him wished for some of Her power. The more adventures he went on, the more he realized how valuable her grace was. He was going to at least have to bone up on his philtering, his herbalism, and look into medicine. He had the diagnostic abilities his auristics gave him; he might as well have the skill to leverage them. Then suddenly the Kelvic's face was up close, and Hadrian's eyes went gloriously wide. Only Kendall had ever been that up close and personal with him, and it was disconcerting now, and even moreso as the Kelvic acted the wolf, smelling his hair, his neck, armpits, and crotch; all those places a man's scent were strongest, and all the places in between. But it might have been more uncomfortable if that bond hadn't been there. It made the closeness seem right. When the Kelvic was done, Hadrian reached up tentatively with his hand to touch that face, to be sure he was real. "Fascinating," he murmured, about the face, about the Kelvic himself, about the bond, and everything. His touch and his eyes were tender, but when had he ever been tender? Perhaps with the orphans behind the high walls were it was safe to have feelings. "Everything will be all right," he promised quietly. "You're my... packmate... now. The healers will tend to your wounds, and I will protect you." It seemed like every other day Hadrian was pushing another person behind him, to stand between them and the dangers of the world. Perhaps he was brave, after all, or just deluded as any knight of the Tree. "We just have to get to the Citadel. I'm ready to move if we have to go. The sooner the better, right?"