Timestamp: Midnight, Summer x, 513 OOCHolding actual date until I figure out where we are with the quest
His face was stunning in the light of Leth that night, the moon dancing upon his reddish-bronzed skin and reflecting in the inky depths of his ebony eyes. The equally dark hair that gripped his head hang around his face as she peered up at him with one hand upon his shoulder and the other tugging at his hips. His features were awash with passion and desire, contorted into the shadow of temporary lust for this golden-haired woman who he had rescued, who he loved and who he knew loved him.
He had never looked more beautiful to Delani, wise eyes so focused upon her and the shared pleasures they indulged. His roaming hands coveted her body, delicate with her mending scars, obsessed with the mark upon her left hand. To him, she was a goddess, to her he was a god, and they were, together, one.
The tide of passion continued for hours, the ground cushioning their gentle embraces and muffling the sounds of their lovemaking, further dampened by the tent around them, through which Leth himself peeked so teasingly. And once it had ended, there was little to do but hold one another, his body pressed to hers from behind, his lips kissing her neck and scarred shoulder, his hand cupping a breast or the hand that had been marked by her goddess so that his thumb could stroke the Lormar on the back. And she, she let it all, her ruined hand tucked beneath her head as she sighed in contentment, keeping contact with him as best she could.
They did not (or could not) hear the shouts in these concluding moments. They did not smell the fire as one tent went up, nor that of the blood that was quickly filling the air. They did not immediately hear the screams of horses and people alike, let alone the horrible shrieks of the one predator Delani had thusfar avoided. Not until Kyanapa threw open the flap and the world outside came rushing in. The old half-blood clutched her belly and shouted at the two of them to get up, get dressed, to run.
Delani sat up, shocked, heedless of her own nudity and peeked past the Chaktawe mix at the awful sight behind her. "Loktupar, quickly! The horses, they're our only hope!" She said, grabbing her breeches and the mended moccasins and pulling them on. She grabbed her shirt next and pulled it quickly over her head, pausing near the flap to grab her falx and yvas before following the mortally wounded Kyanapa out.
"There!" The woman pointed to the fires by the carts. The monsterous birds were half in and half out of one tent, the screams inside of it horrible. It was a nightmare few wished to experience, fewer still wished to remember, but one of the many that could happen here in the Sea of Grass. The horses were yanking at their ties on the carts on the other side of the tent being eviscerated of its humanoid contents. They screamed in terror, trying to break free.
"Loktupar, we need to release them. Get a log from the fires and try and keep the blasted things back. Kyan-" She was turning towards the older one when the spray struck her cheek, making her wince and briefly turn away before swinging her head back towards it. The elder had been grabbed, the massive birds beak over the womans head, literally chewing as the skull was crushed and its neural contents sprayed everywhere. It was gruesome and awful to witness even as her lover grabbed her arm and pulled her towards the horses that were trapped, screaming for her to go. To go now.
They reached the cart and each grabbed a mount. The one she happened to take was a handsome colorsplash stallion that was typically secured directly to the carts. He was tall and powerfully built; he would have a lethal kick if the glassbeaks got at him. Loktupar was able to free two more horses and she one more (this whose reins she kept careful hold of for him) before they had to mount up.
He released the three he'd salvaged and turned to Delani, climbing onto the horses back and waiting for her to finish with the yvas (a simple thing she could easily secure and release, something the Chaktawe had tried to get her to reproduce for some of his comrades, but to which she'd refused). Once done, the woman mounted up and kneed and kicked the stallion into a gallop, leading Loktupar out of the hellish scene.
She could hear him just behind and beside her, breathing hard as the horses flew through the grasses. She did not hear the low whoosh of the speedy bird that had spied them fleeing as it ran their backtrail like a master sprinter. "Keep close!" She shouted to Loktupar. "We need to reach the river. With no fire, we'l-" The awful gurgle of a pierced lung and the agonizing scream of something yanked. She had enough time to look back and see the bird whose lethal beak had so deftly plucked the Chaktawe from his saddle, shaking her friend, her lover, the one she could have lived with forever until he was nothing but a limp form. Heartbroken, she screamed over her shoulder at the ugly bird, but did not let up on the stallions speedy gallop away, the last vestiges of her heart left behind with a man that was to become dinner for those wretched birds....
------------------------------------------
Delani woke with a start, sitting up in the bunk with a hand pressed over her mouth as she gasped. The woman was drenched in sweat, her sheets sodden, her clothes soaked, her body clammy and her hair a mess. It was all she could do to pull on her breeches and the new tunic she had acquired (courtesy of Mathias Syka's funds) without collapsing for how hard she shook. She did not wish to wake Eleret sleeping in the opposite bunk.
Forsaking the shoes, she slipped silently out of the little chamber and climbed the stairs up to the upper deck, sucking wind in an effort to keep from waking every one below until she could reach the outside. Once her feet touched the sea-slickened surface of topside, the sobs and tears came, the woman rushing to the banister with marked hand clutching the rail and scarred one covering her mouth. One might think she was about to be sick from the way her back tightened and she leaned into her hand, as though suppressing gags instead of muffling sobs.
His face was stunning in the light of Leth that night, the moon dancing upon his reddish-bronzed skin and reflecting in the inky depths of his ebony eyes. The equally dark hair that gripped his head hang around his face as she peered up at him with one hand upon his shoulder and the other tugging at his hips. His features were awash with passion and desire, contorted into the shadow of temporary lust for this golden-haired woman who he had rescued, who he loved and who he knew loved him.
He had never looked more beautiful to Delani, wise eyes so focused upon her and the shared pleasures they indulged. His roaming hands coveted her body, delicate with her mending scars, obsessed with the mark upon her left hand. To him, she was a goddess, to her he was a god, and they were, together, one.
The tide of passion continued for hours, the ground cushioning their gentle embraces and muffling the sounds of their lovemaking, further dampened by the tent around them, through which Leth himself peeked so teasingly. And once it had ended, there was little to do but hold one another, his body pressed to hers from behind, his lips kissing her neck and scarred shoulder, his hand cupping a breast or the hand that had been marked by her goddess so that his thumb could stroke the Lormar on the back. And she, she let it all, her ruined hand tucked beneath her head as she sighed in contentment, keeping contact with him as best she could.
They did not (or could not) hear the shouts in these concluding moments. They did not smell the fire as one tent went up, nor that of the blood that was quickly filling the air. They did not immediately hear the screams of horses and people alike, let alone the horrible shrieks of the one predator Delani had thusfar avoided. Not until Kyanapa threw open the flap and the world outside came rushing in. The old half-blood clutched her belly and shouted at the two of them to get up, get dressed, to run.
Delani sat up, shocked, heedless of her own nudity and peeked past the Chaktawe mix at the awful sight behind her. "Loktupar, quickly! The horses, they're our only hope!" She said, grabbing her breeches and the mended moccasins and pulling them on. She grabbed her shirt next and pulled it quickly over her head, pausing near the flap to grab her falx and yvas before following the mortally wounded Kyanapa out.
"There!" The woman pointed to the fires by the carts. The monsterous birds were half in and half out of one tent, the screams inside of it horrible. It was a nightmare few wished to experience, fewer still wished to remember, but one of the many that could happen here in the Sea of Grass. The horses were yanking at their ties on the carts on the other side of the tent being eviscerated of its humanoid contents. They screamed in terror, trying to break free.
"Loktupar, we need to release them. Get a log from the fires and try and keep the blasted things back. Kyan-" She was turning towards the older one when the spray struck her cheek, making her wince and briefly turn away before swinging her head back towards it. The elder had been grabbed, the massive birds beak over the womans head, literally chewing as the skull was crushed and its neural contents sprayed everywhere. It was gruesome and awful to witness even as her lover grabbed her arm and pulled her towards the horses that were trapped, screaming for her to go. To go now.
They reached the cart and each grabbed a mount. The one she happened to take was a handsome colorsplash stallion that was typically secured directly to the carts. He was tall and powerfully built; he would have a lethal kick if the glassbeaks got at him. Loktupar was able to free two more horses and she one more (this whose reins she kept careful hold of for him) before they had to mount up.
He released the three he'd salvaged and turned to Delani, climbing onto the horses back and waiting for her to finish with the yvas (a simple thing she could easily secure and release, something the Chaktawe had tried to get her to reproduce for some of his comrades, but to which she'd refused). Once done, the woman mounted up and kneed and kicked the stallion into a gallop, leading Loktupar out of the hellish scene.
She could hear him just behind and beside her, breathing hard as the horses flew through the grasses. She did not hear the low whoosh of the speedy bird that had spied them fleeing as it ran their backtrail like a master sprinter. "Keep close!" She shouted to Loktupar. "We need to reach the river. With no fire, we'l-" The awful gurgle of a pierced lung and the agonizing scream of something yanked. She had enough time to look back and see the bird whose lethal beak had so deftly plucked the Chaktawe from his saddle, shaking her friend, her lover, the one she could have lived with forever until he was nothing but a limp form. Heartbroken, she screamed over her shoulder at the ugly bird, but did not let up on the stallions speedy gallop away, the last vestiges of her heart left behind with a man that was to become dinner for those wretched birds....
------------------------------------------
Delani woke with a start, sitting up in the bunk with a hand pressed over her mouth as she gasped. The woman was drenched in sweat, her sheets sodden, her clothes soaked, her body clammy and her hair a mess. It was all she could do to pull on her breeches and the new tunic she had acquired (courtesy of Mathias Syka's funds) without collapsing for how hard she shook. She did not wish to wake Eleret sleeping in the opposite bunk.
Forsaking the shoes, she slipped silently out of the little chamber and climbed the stairs up to the upper deck, sucking wind in an effort to keep from waking every one below until she could reach the outside. Once her feet touched the sea-slickened surface of topside, the sobs and tears came, the woman rushing to the banister with marked hand clutching the rail and scarred one covering her mouth. One might think she was about to be sick from the way her back tightened and she leaned into her hand, as though suppressing gags instead of muffling sobs.