Sink or Swim [Razkar&Uleru]

[Razkar]

"Dammit! You have no reason to be sorry. I should not have... It is not your fault that I got ahead of myself. I am innocent, like a child, but a savage... a barbarian in your eyes. I am so different from you... I'm not a fighter, I'm not terse and gruff and... I'm not strong."

Throughout her outburst of emotion, from that first curse that made him blink to her strange description of herself with the word he used for her kind, Razkar had been silent. She needed to get this out, that much he knew. The wind whipped and whistled around them and the sounds of the Flotilla were with them but he stayed quiet.

But he could not hold his tongue when she spoke those last words.

"No." He said firmly, and in his conviction he found the strength to reach out and cup her chin, pulling it up to meet his gaze as he shook his head. "You are strong. You have courage and faith and brain. Do not doubt that."

But within a moment she was from his grasp again, tingle of her wet, warm flesh still on his fingertips. She looked away and ran a hand through her hair, leaving him once again in confused silence.

What could he say? Would anything suffice? He doubted it. The heart wanted what it wanted and reason had nothing to do with it. It knew no morals or code, nor restraint or rationality. He had struggled with its nature before... but the Myrian had an awful sense that this was the first time such strong emotions had been stirred in Edreina's heart.

Razkar would have given much to take his face from her mind. It would cause her nothing but pain.

"I hate this. I hate that I've upset you. I hate that I am so... transparent. Petch it all if I don't write my feelings on my skin."

Amazingly, he managed a small, sad snort that could have been laughter. She turned and saw a wry half-smile on his face, the tiniest shrug in his broad, tanned shoulders.

"Many think it is better than keep all in your heart and never speak. Perhaps you are more honest?"

"Damn it... I can't make it any worse..."

Before he could speak or step back or even form a reply, she was striding towards him, before him, lifting up with her lips and-

An soft shudder ran through his lips. A broken moment, if that, and yet Razkar found himself closing his eyes in a long blink, savoring it despite the angry roar in his own head that screamed this is wrong! But for that moment, he did not care, and by the time he did, it was over.

"I'm sorry. I just had to do it before I petch things up worse than they already are. I simply could not fight the curiosity anymore. Now... now that I have sated it, I am sure I'll be more able to control my body."

She made it sound so simple, and was so fearless. A clutch of Svefra passing were gawping and jabbering quietly in astonishment that one of their sisters had shown such affection for one of Mizahar's most feared race of savages. True to form, Razkar's head snapped their way and they saw a bared mouth lined with teeth.

Suddenly, curiosity evaporated and they realized they had better thing to do.

"I promise I won't do anything like that again... I just... I just had to do it. If you don't want to be my friend anymore... I understand."

He did not know what he saw in his stillness, but it was not immobility. It was sheer restraint. Razkar's hands balled into fists and despite his fear she might see it as a prelude to violence, he did not relent his grip. His mind warred with his body, charging and flanking his own moral code, his word that he had given to a female of brown eyes, not blue.

But he wanted her. Goddess forgive him, he wanted her right now. Images that aroused him even now flashed through his mind at a dizzying speed, becoming the echoes of memories, even dreams. Writhing and gasping figures, one dark and one pale, falling and thrusting into one another. Moans and pants and exhalations in the Suvan itself, becoming bestial grunts in decks on grass or jungle-

Razkar bowed his head and his shoulders bunched as if a great weight pressed on him. His teeth gritted to hard she could hear them from where she stood. And then... his body loosened. He seemed to go limp, as if something had passed. She thought back to that night of his ritual, when he triumphed and seemed to exhausted he could barely stand, bereft of all fight.

This cannot be.

What would you do? Pretend she was Aya? Forget your vow? And when you saw her again... what would you say? Would she forgive you? No, as you would not forgive her. Love is worthless unless tested, but false if it can so easily be cast aside. There is a line between the two.

Is it drawn here? Answer now or admit your cowardice!

Razkar let out all his breath in one long sigh and took a step. Then another. And then his arms were wrapped around Edreina, pulling her close... but his lips did not seek hers. His face buried in the drying hair across her shoulder, he sighed into it. It smelled of salt and sweat and a strange fragrance he could not place. He held her tight and felt her own arms encompass him.

Then the Myrian raised his head to kiss her cheek, letting it linger until her hoarse voice crackled against her ear.

"I would have you as my friend for as long as you want. I have honor to be friend of Edreina of the Sea People." He stepped back a little and smiled warmly down at her. "We go as we did. As friends. If world were different, maybe we would be more. But it is not. You know that now." Another sigh, still sad, but resigned and... confident in it's decision. "And so do I."

He took her by the hand, gently, and nodded to the first bonfires sprouting into life, in defiance of the coming dark.

"Come, Edri. Let us find stories."

[Edreina]

OOCFriendzoned... xD When strong, dark arms began to encircle the Svefra, she tensed. The wind that had been slowly cooling her drying skin seemed to have no effect upon the Myrian. Her head was pulled to rest just under his chin and he hugged her close. After a moment, Edreina's own lanky limbs encircled him and she sighed, visibly relieved that she had not ruined their fragile friendship. Despite her still roiling emotions, she felt as if this ordeal had solidified their friendship. His lips brushed against her cheek for an instant, like a whisper of mist, and then he released her. "I would have you as my friend for as long as you want. I have honor to be friend of Edreina of the Sea People." He stepped away from her as he spoke, brown eyes gentled by the encounter. Edreina shifted her weight onto her left foot, tucking her right behind it. Chewing on the inside of her cheek, Edreina pulled her lank hair over one shoulder and then tucked it behind the same ear save the few strands which managed to escape no matter what she did. Her insides felt cold, as if warming emotion had been drained away... she did not exactly trust herself enough to feel anything at that moment. Cautiously, she returned his smile. "We go as we did. As friends. If world were different, maybe we would be more. But it is not. You know that now... And so do I." He's simply placating you... the bitter thought came unbidded to Edreina, as if whispered in her ear by another. To give her even the slight hope that if the world were different, things may have ended differently was cruel, but she knew he meant well. Despite the fact that her feelings were, and would likely always be, unrequited, it warmed her soul slightly to pretend, just for a second, that he cared for her as more than a friend. Her blue eyes froze over, just for an instant, as the realization hit her once again cruel and mocking. Silly stupid girl... "Come, Edri. Let us find stories." He stepped near once more and took her hand, smiling down at her ever so slightly. Edreina had not realized how chilly her own fingers were until the dark, warm ones enveloped them. With a shiver, she realized that the warmth of the bonfire would be quite... nice. On the Suvan, no matter the season, cold breezes were a constant companion as wind flew unbidden across the aquatic plain. Abruptly, Edreina felt herself smiling. She knew exactly where to take the Myrian tonight. Tugging at his hand, she led him across the deck, down the gangplank, and towards the inner circle of ships. Without fear, Edreina led the Myrian, still by the hand, across her parents' ship. Grinning widely and waving at them, ignoring the shocked and rather confused looks that blossomed upon their faces. After two more adjacent ships, Edreina slowed, having reached her destination. Dropping the Myrian's hand, she continued walking over to the railing, circumventing the now-roaring bonfire, to take a seat upon its weathered surface. "When stories are told here," she explained, "drummers will join, enhance the mood of the story." With a quick jerk of her chin, she motioned to a trio of men with drums resting in their laps. Pulling one leg up onto the railing so that she could wrap her arms around it and rest her chin upon it, Edreina turned to look at her friend - smushing her cheek against her knee with the motion to give her an oddly comical look, especially when she smiled - and posed the biting query: "Will you be telling a story tonight?" She seemed to be warmed now by the bonfire, both inside and out, a happy glow returning to her azure eyes and patterned cheeks.

[Razkar]

Disappointment still wafted off the young Svefra and it pained Razkar to sense it... but he knew there was nothing he could do. She would have to learn to accommodate her pain, just as he had to temper his lust and his curiosity. But the worst was over, he could tell. The two of them broke from their embrace and when he spoke the final time, a tentative smile smoldered on her face-

-then lit it up completely when her eyes shone with an idea.

Before he knew it he was being dragged over decks and hulls and mumbling apologies to the Svefra they were barging through and around, Edreina driving him onwards with a mad grin on her lips.

"Sorry, sorry for-Mistress, I not mean to-Sorry, we are in a-Sir! Sir! No, your fih went-"

Finally, when he was on the verge of yankng Edreina off her feet and finding out what in the seven hells was going on, the madcap journey stopped and Razkar found himself deeper in the Flotilla than ever before. The ships there were older, towered more than the saiques and brigs that arrived on the outside. The ropes were almost ancient, thicker and repaired and just as sturdy as the sails. Edreina unfurled her hand from his and took what looked like a painful seat on the railing, smiling into the bonfire with the three figures seated around it.

"When stories are told here, drummers will join, enhance the mood of the story."

The Myrian gave a little "aaaahhh" of comprehension and cast his eyes about, noticing an increase in curious, hostile looks... and a marked increase of red hair, freckles and blue eyes. Something in his lower intestine told him that these were not just friends of Edreina...

"Ah... these are you-"

"Will you be telling a story tonight?"

But when he turned to her, he felt the desire to interrogate vanish from him. She was as he knew her again. Her hair had all but dried and her smile shone with mischief, curiosity and innocent affection. Glimmers of sadness surfaced occasionally behind the azure orbs, but they were controlled. Embers, not flames. Razkar had his friend back, and returned her smile with one just as bright.

He leaned back against the railing and rifled through his belt, soon finding his pipe and precious remnants of Taloba Grey. Thank the Goddess he'd remembered the grab them before leaving.

"Of course! What story you want me to tell?" She frowned and cocked her head and he shrugged. "Well, you give me lesson to swim. But not get chance to train with gladius. So, still owe you favor. So, you ask story, and I tell."

Razkar leaned over to the bonfire and plucked out a thing, flaming piece of debris, raising it to the packed bowl.

"Is least can do..."

[Edreina]

"Of course! What story you want me to tell? Well, you give me lesson to swim. But not get chance to train with gladius. So, still owe you favor. So, you ask story, and I tell." Edreina frowned thoughtfully, resting her chin back upon her knee, staring into the flames as if it would inspire her. The licking, dancing, roiling light caused the seed of a thought to appear in her mind. Chewing her lip, she thought on it, developing it. "I'd like to hear a story about Taloba... About Myri, perhaps..." She looked back up and into the dark eyes of her friend. She hoped that he did not take it as prying, only a sign of her curiosity, her hunger to know about his mysterious forest world. A hush came over the gathering as the first storyteller began his tale, words and tone accented by the gentle beating of drum. But, Edreina did not really notice the happenings, intent upon her friend instead. The story was told in Fratava, the natural tongue of her people. As the story was told, the speaker became more animated, moving about the bonfire to include everyone in his story. Edreina had not noticed the fact that her siblings sat across the fire from them, talking together in an animated fashion. Shortly after, her parents joined them, embracing Zindr together as it had been months since their last visit. She was too distracted by the Myrian who was creating a billow of smoke larger than the fire itself as he puffed away on the Taloba tobacco. In the silence, Edreina oddly found herself craving an ale, something to dull her senses at least slightly for she continued to find herself staring at the Myrian's body, oddly amused by the way the light hit it and changed it. You're hopeless... The mocking was taken on the lighter side by Edreina as she laughed once, nearly silently, through her nose, shaking her head and looking back to the fire - forcibly. And the night was just beginning.

[Razkar]

"I'd like to hear a story about Taloba... About Myri, perhaps..."

Smoke billowed in mounting drifts as the Myrian digests her request. Goddess... there were so many tales. Of the Sacred City and the Goddess of War. Razkar had heard dozens, maybe even hundreds, ranging from anecdotes to what he assumed would be called epic sagas. But how to pick one out of a multitude? Which would she want to hear?

He focused his lidded eyes on the bearded storyteller, a broad man who wore nearly as much ink as Razkar. A booming, confident voice that bore no trace of age echoed around them and, as promised, the drums match his voice with incredible precision.

Razkar shook his heads slowly as they hands followed the rhyme and meter of his story with skill and patience. But how would they do with him?

"I remember you, land walker!" The man said suddenly, tale at an end, smile broad and eyes focused on Razkar. "Would you gift us with another tale? The likes of which you gave us the night before?"

Razkar could feel eyes on him and savored the attention. He did not often get it without suspicion or fear tinging it, and these Svefra seemed filled only with curiosity for this stranger with dark ink and darker eyes.

"I would have honor..."

He stood and walked slowly towards the fire. The drumbeat stalled, slowed... all but stopped save for the occasional beat to counteract his words. Razkar swept his eyes around all that watched him and let his words focus, his mind clear.

Think not of your own worries. You are the vessel. You are the means for the story. Fit not the story to your mouth, but your mouth to its words...

"Come gather, People of the Sea, Children of Laviku..." he said, slowly, words measured but restrained, as if gaining power, arms spread to encompass the fire and those surrounding it, "I shall tell you of the Goddess-Queen. She of Sacred Taloba... She of Fire and Iron... a tale from the distance past... before that which shook and shattered the world... a story of a girl... a girl as mortal as any of us-"

His arm swept out and took in the crowd, but stayed with a slight smile on Edreina at the end of its arc. The drums began to pick up their beat ever so slightly.

"She who was born of mortal mother and father... She who possessed vision and steel in her soul to rival the gods... and thus became one..."

He began the story, and the words flowed through him.

[Edreina]

From his first words, Edreina felt herself being drawn in. A story about Myri... Edreina knew only that she was a human who killed a god and became one, little more. To have such a tale told by a Myrian himself would be a treat to all ears. Even those who did not revere Myri seemed to lean forward from their perches, drawn in by the bedecked foreigner in a cloak of human flesh. On the outskirts of the fire's light, two figures skirted, snuck, as if trying to be invisible. Edreina surely would have noticed their flame-headed approach were she not so focused on the tale her friend was presenting. So, when the lanky, red haired female leapt upon her sister, it took everything in her power for Edreina not to cry out of surprise. The duo fell to the ground with a thud that was, luckily, covered by a drum beat, lanky brother standing over them, hand over his mouth to keep from laughing aloud. In the tangling sprawl of freckled arms and legs, Edreina and her sister found themselves laughing one instant and shushing one another the next, grinning fierce grins. As they helped one another up, elder sister pulled younger close in a tight hug, shaking her from side to side roughly. Edreina hugged her sister back, unable to end the smile that was making her cheeks ache. "Zindr!" she whispered, "What are you doing here so early?" Sitting back upon the railing, and taking her sister with her, short-haired Zindr smiled coyly, as if holding a secret. "Well, the pod has come to organize the War Party. We just got here a few days earlier than expected..." She answered with a shrug, bumping shoulders with her sister to show that there was more to the answer, but it was best unspoken here. "Suri, noticed you sitting over here all alone." The still standing brother glowered at the nickname. "We thought that we would come keep you company!" Alone? Petch! Edreina realized with a start that she had missed part of the anticipated story. "I'm not alone," Edreina nodded over to Razkar who was deep into the character he was playing, entertaining the gathered masses. "Oh that's right! The Myrian," Surai said quietly, sitting cross-legged in front of his sisters. There was an unpleasant note in his voice that Edreina did not quite catch. Glaring playfully she placed a single digit against her lips, a sign that it was time for him to hush. Grumbling, he turned about and rested against Zindr's legs, trying to hide the fact that he was as interested in this story as the two females who sat above him, utterly enrapt.

[Razkar]

If Razkar heard the commotion from Edreina, he did not acknowledge it. Some would have even argued that he might not have noticed it, so deep and enthralled in the story was his being. The drumbeats hammered out a relentless tempo as his words gained power, body flying and flashing and lunging around the roaring bonfire as he lost himself in this worship through words.

"And the old God of War, Ruros, he came from the north to jungle thick with slaughter... and he found land of warrior with swords pledged to another... greater than him."

His face was a picture of the shocked outrage that Ruros must have wore, and the children crouched before him were enraptured in the bloody tale. Their parents never told them stories like these. They were like grown up stories!

Oh, the other pod children were gonna be sooooo jealous...

"He march across battlefields full of corpses..." Razkar could see the images now, see the long-departed history that had faded into myth and dogma. "Found tower of skulls for one called... Myri. Found temples made of bones, hordes of warriors with a single name branded into flesh. The name of Myri..."

Razkar trembled with latent rage, voice shifting to mimic the deep bass he assumed the gods had.

"Where is mortal, who claim worship over what my name and power has had since time was time?" He thundered, puffed up with self-importance, just as he had seen the story-tellers do in his own lands. "Let me face her, to see whether or not she worthy! If she is, I shall take her as consort, for her lust for blood is rare. But if she is not..."

Razkar took out his gladius. Slowly... almost lovingly... raised it high and let the firelight catch it and send flashes of shimmering steel around his captive audience.

"... I will claim her soul..."

Razkar looked around and found all eyes focused on him... and some new ones. A pair of Svefra had joined Edreina, one a female with large, circular ear-rings and another... ah... he just reeked of "over-protective male relative". He'd had enough of that sensation with Ayatah's cousin Bennik back in Taloba; he knew that particular brand of glare when it was directed at him.

"Ruros journey through the jungle, hide as merchant, for he wished to see the power of mortal named Myri. He found a whole land of warriors, once split-" his hands splayed open and then clenched into tight, shaking fists "-now together, as one people, with one goal, under one... beautiful Queen. No, more than a Queen... he realize... a Goddess-Queen..."

Razkar had to swallow back his own pride and fervor, knowing that such rampant fanaticism would spoil the story. Well, not if he was back in the Jungle... but he was not there. He was among the Sea People, and much as Myri's light shone within her child, they were not gathered around him to hear a sermon. They wanted a story.


"And so he came to her room of throne," he continued, casting reverent hand at an unseen monarch, "Where Myri sat on black throne, with tiger the size of boat on either side... and he made challenge..."

[Edreina]

Again, Edreina was fascinated by the way that the children seemed to be drawn in by her Myrian friend. Some adults seemed to scoff whenever his fervor became apparent, but not the children. They were young and, though Laviku was still their all-father, they were drawn into the concept of this Myri, this woman warrior turned Goddess-Queen. They had no sense of prejudice brought on from years of unequal treatment by the land-dwellers who often would view these people of the waves as scum, pocket-raiders. To them, Razkar was not a savage but a grand storyteller, a master craftsman of enthralling tales. And then there was Zindr. From a young age, she had been curious about the people who dwelt away from Laviku's grace. Even more than her sister, Zindr was prone to sneak off to the area of the Flotilla where the non-Svefra tended to gather, to learn their tongue even better. But more than that, Zindr slowly learned how they fought. Zindr was the only one of the siblings who had inherited their grandfather's bloodlust - at least in a muted form. The sister found a hobby in striking swords and limbs against others, learning how and why they moved, what hurt them most, and, eventually, how to repair it. As the Myrian told his story, Zindr was utterly fascinated, drawn in like a moth to lamplight. Rolling her eyes, Edreina bumped against her sister, giving her a teasing look when the wide eyes snapped back into focus. "Great storyteller, is he not?" She mouthed, grinning all the same. When her sister responded with a fierce, wide-eyed nod, the two smiled and returned to watching. All the while, their less-than-enthusiastic brother sat, twiddling his thumbs, occasionally snapping a disapproving glare up to the Myrian when his gaze lingered too long - in his opinion - upon the trio.

[Razkar]

Razkar knew that there were several ways the story was told. Even with the Goddess-Queen still "alive" and ruling, not some distant deity of times past whose origins had long sine faded from living memory, there was no single truth as to what had transpired in her throne room when Ruros arrived.

The version Razkar had heard was what he retold. Some would not have called it Ruros presenting a challenge. But Razkar knew his people, and even though was was too modest a worshiper to admit it, he knew Myri, too.

Even showing his face in Her realm was challenge enough.

"Ruros told Myri that she was but mortal, and he was god." He place his fists on his hips, voice at once commanding and condescending. "Become my consort, warrior-queen! So he commanded, but Myri-"

His moves were quick and lithe, going from a seated position in mid-air to standing, drawing his gladius again with a flourish.

"-she drew her sword, and she said to god that was in her land that he would leave... or he would die..."

He paused, letting the enormity of his words sink in with all, young and old, and was rewarded with gasps that were tinged with awe. A mortal challenging a god... no, more than that, threatening a god? Such a thing did not happen but once a thousand years, and rarely was that presumptuous mortal triumphant. But Myri, on the other hand...

"And so... battle was struck!"

He roared and his left hand moved with blurring speed, ripping free his ax and slamming the two weapons into one another, brief rain of sparks blossoming into the night sky with the sudden clang of iron.

[Edreina]

Zindr and Edreina let out surprised gasps, shocked at Myri's audacity. They had heard that she defeated a god... but to initiate the challenge herself? Both sisters leaned back, ever so slightly when the weapons struck one another, creating sparks and a sharp noise. But, immediately, they were drawn back in once again, wide blue eyes reflecting the flames and the motions of the Myrian as he moved about the deck. Those that had earlier looked uninterested where now among the children, staring up at the exotic storyteller as if a spell had been cast over them. I seriously hope he can't cook... Then there would be one thing under Syna's gaze which he could not do... The silent shaking of her shoulders at her own private joke earned an annoyed look from Zindr. What could be so funny that she would interrupt her hearing this story? The part of the story had not even been funny - at least Zindr did not think so. Well... there is one thing you will never know whether or not he is good at... Edreina thought that she had locked that damned mocking, teasing, higher-than-thou voice up in a chest and dumped it into the Suvan earlier, but apparently not. Once again, it was back to make her nose crinkle in annoyance. No... its petulance would not bother her this time. Basket-weaving? the mental voice was smug, as if trying to prove, even to herself, that those feelings were gone. It worked... to some degree.