Kavala flexed her foot, testing the ankle as it soaked in the warm water.
"It's better, thank you." Kavala said with a smile. Snuggling deeper into her cloak, Kavala turned and looked at Dyrid thoughtfully. She seemed to think for a long moment, then cleared her throat and spoke gently.
"Dyrid, it's not their responsibility to treat you another way. It's your responsiblity, really, to show them you are a person with rights and privileges and values. People know what kelvics are, and even most people know what they are like. And a great deal of them cause problems or are violent just because of their upbringing. Some are feral, dangerous, and can even harm ordinary children or adults. Many of them don't reach it to your age without bonding or being fought in pits repeatedly. It makes them rather... less than intelligent if they bond young and often. You are so lucky, so very lucky that you are as old as you are and haven't been bonding over and over again." She reached out to stroke his arm, as if to apologize for her words even if they were the truth.
"Its truthfully that way for a lot of people in a lot of cities, even if they don't have a wilder side and aren't kelvic. If you are different, poor, uneducated... it doesn't matter. People will discriminate based on anything, even looks. I'm a Nakivak here and because my skin isn't blue and I'm not male. I have to constantly fight for my own place as well. Just as you will. It gets exhausting, being needed for one thing and that thing not being your mind or your skills. It's hard, sometimes, to get them to look up - at your face or at your hands - and realize how skilled they are." There was a sadness in her words, a tremble in what she was saying...
It was as if she was reliving her own stupidity, all over again, at being alone on the Sea of Grass. If Dyrid hadn't come along - hadn't found her - history could have repeated itself. Fear filled her and she started to shake, though she held herself still for the Kelvic's benefit, not wanting him to know how deeply a reaction was setting in.
She almost didn't realize when his strong arms reached out and picked her up, transferring her from her own chair to his warm lap. Even though he was young, Kavala was small and easily lifted. She seemed surprised by the move, and started to squirm until he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. She froze, waiting for the fear that always came when human hands touched her flesh, and seemed surprised her body had no such reaction to the kelvic. He was warmth and strength and power barely contained. Kavala blinked, started to open her mouth to speak, and nothing but a soft sob came out. The noise surprised her. The healer never cried. Not after those days in the Caravan when every abuse possible was issued upon her - where her world had narrowed down to pain and violence. After the second day with those men, her tears had mysteriously dried up and had never fallen again. At her age, she was considered an adult, but just barely - but something had been twisted inside her, warped terribly, and bolted behind the ironclad doors of her consciousness.
And Dryid threw them all open. Kavala thought, once upon a time, her family would have been the ones to help her and heal her, but she'd never given them the chance. She'd never wanted them to see her like she was now, grown and tainted - all but owned by the Akalak as a breeder. She had work here, important work, but her healing practice always focused on the animals. She'd never taken time for herself. There had been no forgiveness, no treatment, no protection. Still, late at night, she felt afraid and alone. That was one of the reasons why her rooms were open to all and often (as was the Drykas tradition), her sister, or any number of guests including Flick shared her bed. It made her feel better, made her sleep the full night at times... even when she was exhausted and some of her darker memories were closer to the surface.
As Dyrid closed his arms around the Konti, she did something uncharacteristic for her. She wrapped her own arms around him. Tucking her head into his neck, her body began to shake and he could feel the warm salty wetness begin to soak his neck. Kavala cried then, for the first time in two seasons, in the comfort and safety of the Myrian Tiger's arms. And in that instant, her mind opened to his in a way he'd never felt before. Acceptance, love, gratitude, trust, admiration, friendship, thankfulness all wove themselves together in a solid ethereal bond that reached out and made a connection between the two, solidifying completely and deeply. In that instant, Dyrid went from being wholly alone to feeling someone else in his head. He could feel her gentle nature, her pacifist ways, and the soul deep damage that filled her - damage she covered as best she could in order to function on a day to day basis. And as the bond strengthened at their physical touch, he could feel her memories and read them lightly, as if taking the words from a page in a book - he knew about the fall from her horse - it was a deeply ingrained event in her psyche. He knew about her month long capture at the hands of human slavers. Her past and present swirled around him, giving him glimpses of the creature he held in his arms and what type of person she was.
The truth was, she did need him, a lot more than she'd realized. Caregiver. Healer. Nurturer. She gave until there was nothing left, then found something more and gave that as well. She did it to make up for what she thought was her own shortcomings. Her own mistakes. For the fall from her horse at the hands of the carefully concealed tripwire. But it left her empty, hollow, spent inside.
And as the bond solidified, Dyrid knew, as Marcus Kelvic had designed his creatures to know, that he had his work cut out for him. Building her back up, teaching her to give less and take more, helping her find her confidence and hate less - especially herself - was going to be a full time job. The knowledge infused him with purpose. He was uniquely suited. He knew how to kill, how to take, how to bare pain and humiliation and abuse without breaking and without letting the enemy win. Kavala
had broken. It might not have been with the first man who touched her. It might not have even been the first day. It might have been somewhere later along the line - the third day, the seventh rape - it didn't really matter. But somewhere in the mixture of blood and pain she'd lost herself. And after loosing herself, she'd never quite found a way back.
Did he know, she'd wonder later, that kelvics were designed to be pathfinders? They tracked the lost. Once, upon their creation, that had been their whole purpose. They ventured where no one else could or would go. They had skills no one else would have suspected them of having. Their ultimate mission, since day one, had been one of rescue.
And so as Kavala cried herself out wrapped in Dyrid's arms, the journey between the two of them already started. There was nothing hidden to him. Her whole soul was exposed - as raw and malformed as it was - he could still see the goodness there. She'd never lie to him. She'd never strike him or chain him or think harsh things of him. He knew, inherently, she'd give him the world if she could - teach him anything he wanted to learn or at least find someone who could. There'd always be shelter here, love, laughter, and a sense of togetherness that was wholly unexpected. Her life was complicated, and he could see that immediately. In a way, she was still a slave - though a pampered one at that. And she had love and passion in unmeasurable quantities, though most of it was bottled up - caged in the fear of her own soul.
So as the sobs played out, and the tears eventually dried - she'd keep her arms loosely around his neck and across his shoulders - a relaxed released bone-weary burden in his arms. The water she soaked her ankle in would be long cooled, and she'd be too exhausted to make it upstairs. But in the way of bondmates, even newly formed ones, Dyrid knew she wouldn't mind spending the night with him in the stable, curled around either his furred or bare-skinned form, wrapped in a sea of horseblankets.
