Solo Seeking Syliras [Flashback]

[Maeva]

5th Spring, 508 ”Kelvic’s are made to serve. built to serve. There is no shame in that.” It was what Maeva’s mother - Lynna - had told her daughter throughout her short childhood whilst Lynna brushed her long dark hair before bedtime. She did so now, humming the same soft tune as always, whilst she watched the light glisten off Maeva's dark locks. But this time it was morning, and an exciting day for the young Kelvic. Maeva was moving to Syliras - the big city. Nyka had little to provide for Maeva now. She was a woman grown, ready to aexplore the world and search for her first bondmate. It was an exciting prospect, and Maeva felt a twinge of butterflies in her stomach as she thought of her upcoming journey. "What if I don't find--" Maeva's voice dissolved into the air. She had grown up with the familiar ache and need to find someone; a bondmate to give her life... meaning. She imagined that this was how other young women felt about finding their true love. But her need was greater than that; embedded deep within the cells of her livelihood. She was Kelvic; and Kelvics are made to serve. Her mother tutted and dismissed her daughter's worry with a wave of the hairbrush. "You will find someone. Even if it is not instantaneous. When you find yourself not being able to say no to someone, that is when you have bonded." Lynna herself had been bonded to her current mate for the last five years; another women who was married to a wealthy man. The couple were kindly and without children, so they allowed Maeva's family to live in the self-contained top floor of their large home. I have been spoilt in terms of seeing a near perfect Kelvic-bondmate relationship. Maeva thought as she chewed her lip. The prospect didn't help with her nerves. Maeva’s mother had both had her first bonding at a young age, with a young girl who loved parakeets. The child had been lonely - both her parents died and she lived her somewhat insane Grandmother. Her birds had been her only friends, and she was overjoyed when Lynna Genois took her under her wing (quite literally). Eadgar Genois, by comparison, had waited until he was a young man to bond with a performer at a travelling circus. Their bond had been deep and solid, and they still kept contact after all these years. The result of this was that her parents decided to teach Maeva to wait until she found her first bondmate. They wanted their daughter to have the chance to build her own personality and lifestyle, as opposed to being all-comsumed by her first bondmate. Two bells later, Maeva was shaking the hands of a ragged-looking cheesemonger called Svenan. He was an acquaintance of her father, and had offered Maeva safe passage from Nyka and Syliras as he travelled with his wares. She had refused to arrive in her new home as a bat - she did not want to attract any unwanted attention to herself, and hoped that travelling with other people would give her a chance to learn more about Syliras. She knew very little; Maeva could not write and read only a little. Her knowledge was thus mostly limited to what she had conversed with others about. ”G’afternoon. Y’must be Mayver.” The cheesemonger had less teeth than an infant, but apparently sold the finest cheeses known. He claimed that his Brie was the real reason that Galifer Odalah slew his wife - she apparently had eaten his entire selection of Svenan's brie. The claim was ridiculous in more ways than one, but it made Maeva smile that the old Cheesemonger was so proud of his wares. ”Maeva.” ”M’names Svenan m’self. This here is Sophya - a friend of m’sisters, and this’s Josette, another traveller like y’self. And my old horse here is called Gerard. He’s a fine old beast. Much like his owner!” The old man elbowed Maeva and laughed, then coughed aggressively. She couldn’t help but wince and step away from the sprays of phlegm erupting from her new… friend. The party of four - five if Gerard the Horse was included - began their journey in the early evening. It made little sense to Maeva herself, but Svenan swore that he had completed the Nyka-to-Syliras route several times, and always started at the same time of day, to arrive in Syliras mid-morning, exactly 33 days later. The women planned to take turns sitting with Svenan at the front of the horse carriage, with the other two sitting at the back amongst the cheeses. Sophya started at the front with Svenan first, leaving Maeva to get to know the third woman called Josette. Josette was a Syliras local - born and bred into the city. ”It’s my home, but I hate staying there for too long. I plan to move to somewhere else this time ‘round. I’ll only stay in Syliras for a year or so.” Although it seemed that Josette was trying to convince herself rather than Maeva - who knew far too little of the world outside of Nyka to appreciate the cities that Josette mentioned in her plan. Some could have even been made up, and Maeva would have smiled and nodded all the same. ”So you’re a Kelvic, ey?” Josette said after a while, poking the large wheel of cheese that she had been leaning against for the last bell or so. The night was beginning to draw in, and Maeva guessed that it was about the nineteenth bell. She nodded politely to Josette’s question. ”I don’t get that Kelvic way of thinking.” The other woman continued, shrugged her shoulders so much that her thin shawl slipped off her shoulders. She tugged it back into place and nodded backwards, towards Svenan and Sophya - who were talking in quiet voices, ”I don’t know how you can want to help others with people like that in the world.” Maeva glanced backwards to the other two, and frowned. ”I don’t… understand.” Sure, Svenan stinks of cheese and spits everytime he pronounces the letter ‘S’ , but he isn’t a bad person. Josette laughed airily at her confusion, ”Sophya. She’s a cunning little slut if I ever saw one. D’ya think she’ll be happy to slum it amongst Ser Spits’ cheeses like we’re doing? She’ll want to sleep on his bedding, and sit up there like Queen of the Camembert, even if she has to spread her legs to keep him from noticing we’re even here.” I can see why you’ve only stayed in Nyka for a few days. Maeva thought, but didn’t say anything. She glanced back to Sophya and Svenan, and noticed how the blonde woman brushed the cheesemonger’s arm every few chimes and would push her breasts towards him as she spoke. There’s some truth what Josette said, she eventually decided, however crudely put.

[Maeva]

9th Spring, 509 Josette had been right. When the party of four stopped for their first night’s sleep, Sophya delivered every complaint imaginable in order for Svenan to give up his own plush bedding for her to sleep on. Later on in the night, Maeva was woken up by rhymatic grunts and moans. I’ll never eat his cheese. Ever. The selfish behaviour did not stop there; Sophya begged Svenan to allow her to sit up with him at the front of the carriage. At first, the honest old man had argued with her, but had fallen quiet when Sophya lent forward to show him how the front of her dress gaped. It meant that Maeva and Josette were to spend more time with each other and the cheeses than Svenan or Sophya. Maeva did not entirely mind. Josette was certainly rough and ready - but she was also street-wise and kind. She offered Maeva a place to sleep for her first few nights in Syliras, free of charge. She also had the wildest stories that Maeva had ever heard (the one featuring Josette, a priest, a blacksmith and a pepper grinder was one that Maeva would never forget). Josette had never married, and had been left by her parents aged fifteen. Having to survive on her own, she had gambled, pick-pocketed and spread her legs in order to feed herself and find a roof to sleep under. Although she wasn’t rich, she was well respected and liked by large amounts of people, from various cities and towns. ”I want to help women who find themselves down on their luck. Men are bastards, and some will abuse and ruin a woman until she has nothing to her name. Some girls are abandoned by their parents - like me - and others simply find themselves in a nasty situation.” Josette helped such women by teaching them self-defence, how to read and write, as well as other less acceptable skills such as pick pocketing and how to make a man see stars with only a hand or mouth. She helped rich women and orphans alike, so her social circle was made of a huge variety of women. But there was a catch. Josette requested that the women she helped made yearly donations to herself - in order to upkeep her ability to travel around and help other women. In some respects, she was only slightly different to a pimp. ”You can tell when a woman has found her feet - and her coin purse. So not only do I help her, but I befriend her. She wants to share her money with me, because she loves me like a sister and wants to do good. Without me, she’d be homeless and starving. Or dead.” It was this part of Josette’s tale that Maeva couldn’t help but frown at. To help somebody was a gracious act, but then to expect them to return the favour financially per year was something else. Observant Josette noticed this and simply gave her usual nonchalant shrug, ”Can you think of a way I can travel around, helping women - giving them books, weapons, clothes, a home - without having to dip into my own pocket? It’s a costly job. I love it, and yes, I do keep some profit. But don’t give me that look.” From then on, Maeva did not question Josette’s way of living. That night, whilst the cheesemonger and the slut (as Josette called her) further dirtied his dairy wares, Maeva had a request for Josette. ”Can you teach me? Some skills so I can survive Syliras a little better.” The woman smiled in the darkness of the night and nodded. Maeva saw the smile - hey, being a Kelvic bat helped sometimes - and returned it with one of her own. Josette rolled to her side so Maeva could see her face. ”I’ll teach you how to defend yourself. Every girl gets one free lesson from me. And plus, I don’t have much else to do whilst Ser Spits and The Slut shag our way to Syliras.” Maeva couldn't help but laugh; she'd grown somewhat fond of Josette's crudely direct manner of speaking. ”D’ya want to join?” Came the gasped cry from the Svenan. ”Not. At. All.” Maeva and Josette answered in unison.

[Maeva]

12th Spring, 509 Maeva quickly realised that Josette was a hard teacher. She had clear demands that she expected of her students - Maeva included, apparently. The day after Maeva requested that Josette teach her something that would help her in Syliras, the cinnamon-skinned woman had handed her a small dagger. ”This is the blade that I give all my girls to practise with.” Josette had said, whilst Maeva quickly grasped how sharp it was, ”It’s a cheap blade, but pretty well made. It’ll help me teach you how to defend yourself, and conceal it so people won’t suspect a thing.” That night, Maeva had suffered the demands of Josette, and the blisters of a wooden handle. The lessons had begun with how to hold the blade (something that Maeva had assumed to be simple, but Josette quickly corrected this idea by stating that a blade held in many different ways was good for many different things). Two nights after that, Josette handed Maeva another dagger - this one had had its blade dipped in hot wax several times so the sharpness had been completely dulled. It was this blade that Josette had told Maeva she would use to practise self-defence with. ”I’m going to come at you like I’m a drunkard. I’ll want one of two things; your money purse, or your love purse.” Josette paused to laugh when she saw Maeva’s confusion, then slow realisation as to what she was referring to. The scene must have been somewhat comical to watch; Josette stumbling around Maeva like a puppet with a loose string and muttering nonsensical words. Maeva had started out watching Josette warily, but couldn’t help crack a laugh. And that was when Josette struck. Grabbing Maeva’s slim wrists, she pulled them behind Maeva’s own back and held them in one hand. Josette’s face loomed over Maeva’s own, just inches away. She felt another hand snake around her waist, slipping to her hips. She’s playing the thief Maeva realised, struggling to free one of her arms. All lessons about keeping calm and remembering where one had concealed her weapon slipped out of Maeva’s mind as she fell into playing the victim. Josette was a good actress; so when her hand sneaked up to Maeva’s breasts and began to tug at her clothes, her heart leaped into Maeva’s throat. Josette’s lips brushed Maeva’s neck, her left hand systematically undoing the ties on the thin cotton top whilst her right struggled to control Maeva’s own arms. No, it wasn’t the thief Josette was pretending to be, but the rapist. Josette pushed Maeva backwards so she found herself up against a tree. It was still an unsettling experience - Maeva had never been treated so roughly before - but there was also something else. There was a twinge of arousal as Maeva felt Josette’s hot breath on her neck, her hands abandoning Maeva’s still-concealed breasts and lifting up her skirts. The feel of Josette’s cool fingers on Maeva’s thighs made her gasp for air. Something hard was pushed into Maeva’ ribcage, and her arousal sizzled out suddenly. ”And with that, your dead.” Josette released Maeva’s wrists and backed away, spiralling the waxy dagger in her hand. She had a strange smile on her lips - was it from a sense accomplishment? Maeva’s hand patted at the spot where Josette had faked-stabbed her. There was, of course, no blood - but the experience had left Maeva’s heart pounding. She wasn’t sure whether it was out of fear, or pure exhilaration and lust. She ran a hand through her hair, and was surprised to find her palm clammy with sweat. She glanced at Josette, hoping for an explanation. ”You can’t get distracted.” the other woman’s face was hard, her amber eyes narrowed in the poor lighting of early evening, ”we’ll have to continue tomorrow, but if someone were to attack you like that, you can’t panic.” I wasn’t panicking. Maeva thought sullenly, I was… aroused. Of course she knew that if an actual drunkard or rapist touched her in the same way, Maeva would not feel the same as she had when it was Josette’s hands toying with her. That much, she knew (or hoped for, at least). But why had she become so weak when Josette touched her? Maeva’s sexual experiences were virtually non-existent. She had kissed men before, yes. And she had certainly felt… Lust and want before. But never from another woman - and never before had someone touched her so -- intimately. She was still short of breath when she and Josette bedded down for the night. Ser Spits and The Slut had finished their own nightly games, and were snoring loudly on Ser Spit’s luxury travellers bedding. Josette and Maeva had been left with simple cotton or woollen bedding - it wasn’t terrible, but it meant that Maeva could feel every imperfection in the natural earth as she tossed and turned. Sleep had been near impossible to begin with, but after four or five days of travelling, Maeva had slept like a babe. Sleep won’t come easily tonight though, Maeva considered as she lay on her itchy make-shift bed. She stood up, stepping over Josette and avoiding Ser Spits and The Slut. She wouldn’t sleep, and so Maeva decided that she would flit through the night as a bat. She slipped out of her nightshift, folding her clothes neatly and laying them on top of Ser Spit’s wheels of cheese. Come morning, if she was not back yet, Josette would know where she would be (or rather, what she would be), and would hopefully stop the other two from leaving Maeva behind. One of the first questions that Josette had asked Maeva about being Kelvic was: ‘what does it feel like to turn into a bat?’. It was a question that Maeva had struggled to answer. It was like describing to a blind man what it was like to see colours, or to a deaf man what it was like hearing music. ”It’s my hearing that changes first. It sounds a little like when you put a glass to your ear to hear what the people in the next room are saying. When I… click," she had used the word that she found best to describe the high-frequency sounds she used as a bat to build up an accurate image of where she was, "I can see what’s around me. Everything sounds different depending on where I am.” The explanation had been as fruitless as when she had tried to explain to people of previous occasions, however. Maeva had quickly learnt that most people, except other Kelvics of course, struggled to understand the process that came with transforming into one’s animal form. It wasn’t painful as such - the actual changing reminded Maeva of pins and needles, slowly creeping up her body whilst the world around her changed. Of course it was she that was changing, and her perception of the world. Having morphed, Maeva clawed her way up a tree trunk, her tiny feet and hands (she maintained that there were hands, not paws or claws) pulling her up and up. When she reached a good height, Maeva threw herself backwards, catching the air in her wings before she hit the earth, and flitted back up amongst the trees. She constantly made her tiny clicking noises, gaining a picture of her surroundings from her new high point of view. There was an owl in the tree she passed, and a group of three or four moles on the earth below. She circled in an arc, using her still-sleeping human company as an anchor point to return to. The night was cloudy, but dry, and with only a little wind. There may be others about. Maeva thought hopefully. Although she was by no means hungry for blood, she knew that her bat form craved the minerals that flowed from warm flesh. A half-dead spruce tree provided her with the company she was after. A couple of bats - a fairly small male and smaller female - were grooming each other. Maeva guessed that neither had eaten recently, but the female was ovulating and the male was trying his best to win her over. She circled them, constantly observing and smelling them. They would pose no threat to her, that she knew. Landing a little way further up on the tree, the two bats stopped grooming each other to inspect the newcomer. The male was a little jumpier than the female, but seemed disappointed when he realised Maeva was not present to mate with him. The two others continued grooming each other, and Maeva knew that she had been partly invited to join them in finding food - assuming she would not overstay her welcome for too long. When the two bats set out, Maeva indeed tagged along. The three bats followed and circled around each other, still familiarising themselves with each other’s scents and individual sounds. These were fruit bats - they stunk of sweet nectar - but from Maeva’s experiences, there were also warm-blooded animals never too far away from the fruits these bats sought after. This time, she struck gold; a huge Stag deer was snoozing amongst a raspberry bush. As her latest comrades set to sucking the sweet juices from the little red berries, Maeva circled the Stag like a vulture. Such an animal would not suffer from Maeva feeding; only a small bite would be left, which would heal within a few days. She landed on the rump of the beast, and sunk those tiny teeth into the fleshy rump. The Stag twitched its leg, still half-sleep, but Maeva clung on and began to feed. All animal blood tasted different, depending on what the animal was and what it fed on. Stag blood was a luxury; the varied diet of grass, fruit and mosses meant that the blood was sweet, but not overpoweringly so. Cow blood was the worse; mud, cud and grass made for thick blood that tasted like bile. Human blood was the most varied; but Maeva had only tried that as a young girl. It had felt wrong. Whilst she fed, Maeva considered the events earlier that night; how Josette had touched her and how her own body had reacted. The other woman was certainly sexual; her stories alone made Maeva’s toes curl. And Maeva couldn’t deny that Josette was beautiful with her olive skin and fiery amber eyes. But… did she want Josette? It was very confusing, and Maeve wished that there were other people with her and Josette other than Ser Spits and The Slut that she could talk to. I don’t think I desire Josette as such, she thought carefully, but I want… her in other ways. She’s my friend, and she’s going out of her way to help me. I want to help her, too, in anyway I can. If that’s in a sexual way… Then I’m happy with that. ”When you find yourself struggling to say no to someone…” She could almost hear her mother’s voice as if Lynna Genois was with her daughter now. Maeva realised then that had found her first bondmate.

[Maeva]

22nd Spring, 509 ”You’re getting better.” ”My blisters say otherwise.” ”That just means you’re working hard. It’s a good thing. You don’t cut yourself half so much.” That part was true. In the past eleven or so days since her first lesson with Josette, the number of wounds Maeva suffered each evening had dropped steadily. Josette now allowed Maeva to exercise using a real dagger against stumpy trees. This was to practise both attack and defence in case Maeva was ever assaulted by more than one person (”Young thugs will go around in packs like wolves. But with less brain cells.”, Josette had told her). In this situation, Josette would find a close group of trees or bushes in a circle, and whilst Maeva stood in the centre, would shout ‘Left!’ ‘Right!’ ‘Behind!’. Maeva would twist into that direction, using different slashing techniques to ‘attack’ the foliage. Except more often than not, she would drop the dagger, or flip it too many times to she’d nearly stab herself and not her green victim. It had resulted in cut fingers, a ripped shawl and Maeva nearly losing her little toe. Josette still played the thief or sexual attacker some nights, but Maeva managed to drive her own attention away from her racing heart and the feel of Josette’s fingertips long enough to get away from her pretend enemy. Sometimes, she even could pull out her dagger from the concealed strap on her thigh. But by then, Josette would trip her up or attack from behind. Instead of thievery, murder and blood, the ‘attack’ usually ended in a fit of giggles. The party of four were about half way through their journey, but Maeva had lost the already small amount of interest she had once possessed in the journey itself. Although the constant wobbling of the horse carriage was wearing thin, and the sexual activities between Ser Spits and The Slut reaching an all-time awkward high, Maeva’s enjoyment of Josette’s company far outweighed the downsides to the travelling. She was fascinated with the woman, if Maeva was truly honest about it. Notwithstanding her rough upbringing, Josette had gained a huge amount of knowledge since her parents left her as a child. She had been taught to read and write, but had educated herself in basic politics and mathematics. She knew much about the different races and the cities. Against Maeva - who could only read the very basics and write even less - she was little short of a genius. The bond between the women was new for Josette, as well. She admitted feeling closer to Maeva than any one of the previous women she had met: ”Maybe it’s because I know exactly where you’ve come from. I’ve come to know you before you reach the city, whereas in most cases I meet the girls when they’re already homeless or selling themselves.” It gave Maeva great joy to watch Josette’s eyes flash as they told a sordid secret, or how proud she was of her role in helping other women. Her attitude was a mixture of maternal caring - over Maeva and the women she’d helped - and pure, unaltered ‘I do not care’ - about most men, and the opinions of others. It was a good balance, Maeva thought; Josette had a good time, but wasn’t as selfish as The Slut and was more than happy to help others.

[Maeva]

30th Spring, 512 Maeva was woken by a scream. It wasn’t Josette, who was sitting bolt upright, her eyes wide with shock -- and fear? Another scream - this time a man’s. Bandits. Josette was still sitting down; Maeva had apparently stood up, but she couldn’t remember doing so. She watched her friend rummage through the small satchel bag she had bought with her. Josette passed her something familiar; the dagger Maeva had been practising with. There was a sickening sound that Maeva had never heard before, but she instantly knew it was bones breaking. A third scream followed that sent shivers down Maeva’s spine. Josette was also on her feet now, walking briskly towards the horse carriage. Gerard had been tied to a tree, but was rearing up as one bandit with a fire torch tried to untie him. The horse kicked wildly, screaming as his owner had done before dying. Maeva watched, struck with a nauseating fear. How many were there? Three? Four - it was heard to tell. One was by Gerard, but was quickly losing interest in the old horse. Two other were investigating Svenan’s wares. A fourth was struggling with Josette. Josette. She glanced down into her hands. They were trembling, but her right was also gripping the dagger Josette had given to her just chimes earlier. Her other hand clung onto a rock. When had she picked that up? Looking back to Josette, she saw her friend stooped below the bandit, and Maeva feared the worse. But as Josette stood up straight, the bandit’s innards fell out from his stomach, and he fell to the floor. That caught the attention of the remaining three bandits - the one near Gerard was stalking towards Josette. They all were - grinning at each other hungrily. Maeva threw the rock. It missed all three bandits, but they all turned in her direction, clearly having not seen her previously. It was all the time Josette needed; she kicked the man closest to her hard. If he did not have children already, he wouldn’t have them any time soon. She buried the dagger in his bag, and he called out like a beast. Two down, two to go. This time the bandits were not so easily distracted; one turned to Josette, whereas the other headed towards Maeva. The two women shared eye contact for two chimes, in which Josette gave a single nod before turning to her victim. Maeva lacked the confidence of her friend and mentor, but all the same, she found herself staring into the dirty face of the fourth bandit. He had even less teeth than Svenan - poor Svenan - but he was much younger, and broader at the shoulders. He had no weapon of his own, just his fists, but Maeva bet that he still left everything in his favour. ”C’mere sweetheart. I won’t hut you.” He said, grinning toothlessly, ”I’ll show you a good time. You look like you need it. I’ll make you smile.” He was approaching slowly, tormenting Maeva, who still had the dagger in her shaking hand. ”Put that thing down, and I’ll give you something else to hold onto.” He was less than two feet away now - in one or two steps he’d be close enough to touch her. He held out a filthy hand, but Maeva batted it away. He didn’t appreciate that. His face hardened, his eyes narrowed and his smile dropped. Both hands came forward, one aiming for Maeva’s hand which held the dagger, and the other going for her waist. Left! It was as if Josette had actually spoken. Maeva twisted to the left, meaning her all-too-real attacker mauled the tree she had stood in front of, rather than Maeva himself. He followed her movement, but swung his arm as well so he hit her straight across the cheek. Maeva whimpered, but surprisingly remained on her feet. He gave a dirty chuckle, and grabbed at her wrists again. This time he was successful, and tried to prise the dagger out of her hands. Instinctively, Maeva made a fist with her free hand and raised it up into the middle of her attacker’s ribcage. It winded him, clearly, because he stooped over suddenly and let go of her hand. He attempted to stand upright, but Maeva embedded her dagger into where she had punched him. His eyes widened, more likely with surprise than pain. He made no sound - not like his friend had done when Josette had revealed his guts to him. He fell to his knees, still clutching at his sides. He touched the centre of his body, where his life was seeping out of him. Then he died. It surprised Maeva that she felt nothing for the man she’d just killed. Absolutely, completely, nothing. Her first emotion after she had murdered a man was overwhelming relief that Josette had also got the better of her opponent - he was crawling on the floor and crying like baby. His bone had erupted from the elbow, and he was calling out for mercy. ”You don’t deserve mercy.” The lack of emotion in Maeva’s voice surprised even Josette. The man gave a pathetic whimper and curled into the foetal position. Josette was perfectly safe; she had slight bruising from being punched in the arm, but other than that, she wasn’t hurt at all. Svenan was a completely different story; both his arms had been broken before his neck. Maeva found herself blinking back hot tears as she looked down at the broken body of her Cheesemonger. Sophya was found under the horse carriage, still very much alive. Whilst the bandits had killed her most recent bed partner, she had slipped under the carriage to hide. ”You didn’t even warn us. Or try to help us.” Josette said disgustedly when Sophya crawled out from her hiding place. The woman was drenched in tears… and her own urine. ”I didn’t know what to do. They would have killed me… Me!” She cried between sobs. Josette had little sympathy for her; she told Sophya to shut up and sit amongst the cheese like a scolded child. Gerard was safe, but spooked. It took a whole bell for him to allow Josette and Maeva to come close enough to touch his nose before he realised that they were not bandits. ”How could he survive doing this journey so many times without being attacked?” Maeva asked as she and Josette began to dig a makeshift grave for Svenan. Josette gave a weak laugh and looked at Maeva with an emotion she hadn’t seen in Josette before; tiredness. ”We were his bodyguards as much as he was our travel guide.” It made sense; Svenan was an old man and had clearly been a sitting duck for the bandits. Maeva was simply grateful it hadn’t just been herself and Sophya with Svenan.

[Maeva]

35th Spring, 512 Three exhausted women crossed into the city of Syliras just as the sun was dipping into the horizon. Since the bandit attack, Josette had pushed poor Gerard harder than Svenan had ever done so before. Every third night, the three women and the horse would travel halfway into the night before resting. It meant all four were complete exhausted, but they came to Syliras a few days earlier than Svenan had promised. The rest of the journey had been almost silent. Josette refused to speak to Sophya, who also refused to admit that her hiding during the attack was due to selfishness and cowardice (in her opinion, her actions were due to her superior intelligence). So Maeva was stuck between two equally stubborn women who refused to apologise or explain themselves to the other. But Josette had continued to teach Maeva self-defence, except on those tiresome days that they didn’t bed down until about midnight. When it was just Meava and Josette, nothing seemed to change - the two were still incredibly close. Josette had voiced how impressed (and even proud) she had been during the night of the attack: ”Without you, Maeva, I probably would have died.” The idea was had to believe - that Maeva had inadvertently saved her dear friend and bondmate. But it resulted in Josette offering to allow Maeva to stay with her for a little longer than the original offer. She had jumped at the chance; the idea of not spending time with Josette unnerved Maeva. It even frightened her, a little. It was a grey, wet day. As soon as they stepped inside the city walls, Josette told Sophya to leave, who did so obligingly. After they watched the third woman run out of the spattering rain, Josette sighed heavily and laid her plan out to Maeva. ”We need to sell Ser Spits’ cheeses, and his carriage. I don’t know if anyone will take old Gerard… we might have to pay someone to have him, but it has to be done.” It all seemed quite wrong to Maeva, selling the horse and wares of their friend - she’d even stopped calling him Ser Spits. Josette could clearly read Maeva’s expression, because she patted her on the shoulder and smiled sadly, ”it’s rough, I know. But we’ll split the money between us and then you can put it to one side for after you’ve stayed with me.” Altogether, the cheeses, carriage and Gerard came to ten golden mizas. It was more than everything had been worth, Maeva was sure of it, but Josette had haggled with various tradesmen for the carriage and horse, and told the chef at the inn that the cheese was more expensive than it was in reality. It was a little criminal, perhaps, but as Josette had told Maeva, it needed to be done. With their new riches, the two woman staggered, completely exhausted, to Josette’s tiny apartment. It was dark, dingy, and completely different to what Maeva had expected. Josette laughed at her friend’s awkward silence. ”It’s disgusting, I know. But it does for me. I’m only here for one or two seasons at a time. The other seasons, I’ll rent it out to one of the girl’s I’ve helped, or leave it empty.” Judging by the collections of dust, the past season had seen Josette’s apartments remain empty. Maeva helped whilst Josette opened out a wardrobe, drawers and crate, all of which stored the small trinkets, covers and bedding. After a bell or so of decorating the room, it looked almost… homely. After admiring their handy work, the two women succumbed to their exhaustion. The two were to share Josette’s bed; it was a rumour just waiting to spread and excite. ”Am I… your bondmate, Maeva?” The question was answered by silence initially. Maeva stared up at the dark ceiling, listening carefully to the footsteps of men and women scurrying past Joestte’s apartment. ”I… don’t know.” Maeva had not known what to expect when she discovered her bondmate. Based on the conversation she had had wither her mother before leaving Nyka, it could be either instantaneous or happen over time, much like falling in love. Maeva certainly felt like she didn’t want to be away from Josette for any length of time, and she definitely wanted to make her happy and do her bidding - but she couldn’t help but question her instinct. ”Yes. I think I want you to be.” Josette shifted in bed, and Maeva glanced over to see her lying on her back, toying with her hands idly, ”I’m quite happy with that.”

[Emblem]

Congratulations! You Get Glorious Experience! Maeva Skill Points Earned Weapon: Dagger 4 XP Riding 1 XP Lore Earned Bondmate: Josette Seeking Syliras A Rough Journey Born to Serve Other Shenanigans: Nothing here Comments : A really great back story thread Maeva! I enjoyed the read! I enjoyed the dynamics between the characters and found everything to pretty solid. If you have questions or concerns regarding grading, shoot me a PM!