[Sunset Quarters] The Heart of the Problem

by **Edreina** on January 6th, 2014, 6:04 am

5th Day of Winter, 513AV
Sunset Quarters
16th Bell

Across the bloodstained deck they strode together, victorious against the scum that called Sunberth their home. A few of the Denvali they were escorting had chosen to stay with the Svefra but the majority was now in tow as they made their way from the docks to the Sunset Quarters. The trip was quick and painless, partially because Edreina was in a dazed stupor, partially because even a Sunberthian seemed to quell at the sight of a Myrian with blood dripping from-

From his mouth... Again, a fine tremble racked Edreina's figure as arrangements for living space was made. Many of the Denvali were living together in close little units, finding safety and security in company. Razkar was the haggler, the finagler of prices and so she stood by quietly as he worked out the details for them.

After what felt to be an eternity, she found herself sitting on the edge of the bed, hands knotted tightly under arms, rocking gently.

What... the hell... was that... She knew the answer but even a feigned ignorance gave her some measure of peace. Her name was spoken quietly, gently enough that it took her a second to realize it was real and look up in response.

Immediately and rather violently, her eyes fell to the ground again and her stomach heaved. It could have been a trick of her mind, it could have been him simply forgetting, but she saw Razkar once again with human blood dripping from his lips to his chest. The purpose of his filed teeth had never been a secret but there was something so different about actually seeing them in use. Seeing a man who she loved with every fiber of her being tear a man's beating heart from his chest and consume it. It tore at her soul.

Her stomach rolled again and she lunged across the room, grabbing a vase and pulling it into her lap as she fell to the floor. For an eternity she heaved with no result, gasping for breath as pain racked her stomach without relief. Long ago, she realized, she had come to terms with the nature of her love, even if her conscious mind was a step or two behind.

In the end, she was sweaty and shaking as if chilled to the very marrow of her bones, staring with eyes nearly as vacant as the undefiled vase.

(c) Wanda Endust

by **Razkar** on January 7th, 2014, 2:05 am

"No, no, that's more than enough!"

"You are sure? Twelve rooms, the whole season-"

"Yes-yes-yes! Close enough!" The red-faced woman was nodding so frantically that Razkar feared her head would roll off and go jerking across the floor. The woman to her side was the same age, but blank-eyed and of far sterner mien. "M-Mistress Jillene will be-"

"Is satisfied." The blind woman said abruptly, glaring at nothing with sightless white orbs that seemed to pierce Razkar regardless. "I may be blind, girl, but I don't need to be sodding spoken for!"

"Mistree J-Jillene, the gentleman-"

"Myrian, I'd say!" Jillene said triumphantly, grinning with dazzling whites when Razkar confirmed it for her. "Aye, aye, thought so! Definite accent there, lad. Looks like you've squared a handsome arrangement, I'd wager. Over a score of Svefra overrun one of the floors on Cheap Side, and you're the reason, eh? Buy out a dozen o' the shared rooms and now you come to pay up, in full and in advance."

She tutted dramatically, rolling herself a... what did they call them again? Blag? Snag? Flag? Razkar forgot. Anyway, it was pipe weed in very thin paper and once it was rolled tight, she lit it and smiled again.

"Lessee... twelve rooms at four coppers a day, comes to ninety-six for two days, which we'll call an even gold miza for sundry expenses-" just a slight pause and when Razkar uttered not a murmur of disagreement, she continued with a satisfied nod "-over eighty-seven days remaining in the months comes to..."

Razkar just blinked and stared. Arithmetic was never his strong suit, and so many big numbers tossed at him just left him feeling like a youngling in front of his mother back in the jungle, being asked to make the numbers scratched onto a tree trunk get bigger or smaller. He just waited for Jillene, and it didn't take long for-

"Forty-three an' an-arf gold mizas-"

"Which we'll call forty," Razkar finally said, quickly but smoothly, letting the healthy and busy jingle of gold add weight to his words, "Since you're getting it advance, Honored Mistress Jillene."

The blind landlady cocked an eyebrow, amused that the Myrian would seek to ply her with flattery... but the promise of cash in hand certainly made up for it, and then there was Mary being so damn stuttery today... not to mention...

"... does something smell in here?"

"Smell like what, Mistress?"

"J-Jillene-"

"Quiet girl!" The blind woman sniffed again, deeper, trying to pin down the stench, leaning closer to Razkar. "S'like... raw meat. Bloody meat. S'that, lad?"

"It is, Mistress."

"Why such a stench, eh?"

Razkar opened his mouth but Mary's head jerked in close to her employer's ear and Jillene's eyebrows shot skyward. Impressed or disgusted, he didn't know, but Mary's whisper quavered enough to get her point across. Finally Jillene just grunted and Razkar wiped his mouth to hide a brief smile. Tough ol' female. Then again, she'd have to be, surviving and prospering blind in a town like this. Still, it was something he was sure to log away in his mind for future reference.

Rule 1: Negotiations are remarkably easier when you've got cartilage and aorta dripping from your teeth.

"I'll let the D-Svefra get settled in, if you don't mind," he said as he counted out each coin from his purse into her hand. Edreina had done so good of a job making Svefra out of the Denvali, by Myri he wasn't going to petch it up for her now. "My partner and I need to do the same. Edreina?" No response. "Ed... ri...?"

A frightened animal looked back at him from their bed. Wide eyes that seemed to tremble with moisture and disbelief looked up at his own and couldn't hold the gaze, she jerked to unsteady feet and cleared the room in a single swaying half-fall-

"Oh, gods..."

"We shall see you two females later." Razkar said brusquely, dumping another glittering handful, this time silver, into Mary's shaking hand, for their own room. "She has... had a trying day."

Dry heaving haunted Mary's ears as the door was slammed in her face.

Alone at last...

Razkar had fantasized many a crowded night on the Calypso about what the two of them would do the very instant they had their privacy again. A bed, a locked door and free bells to wile away... but now? Now his lover was heaving nothing but bile-stinking air into the vase, finally giving it up and letting it tumble, staring at nothing like a woman... violated.

Razkar breathed in, and smelled the reason why. Goddess, he hadn't even washed himself off.

It was a slap dash job, but there was a wash basin with fresh, freezing water inside it. The Myrian hissed and cursed softly as he scrubbed most of the viscera from his body, staring at himself as the scarlet cleared at the black ink, faded scars and tanned flesh became revealed again. The black eyes, staring back at himself...

You know how they see you now. If you were fresh out of the jungle, perhaps you'd be ignorant of their shock and horror. Perhaps you would think them weak or stupid, mayhap not even notice why they looked at you... like she does.

But it has been too long for you. You know how they think, or have an inkling. You've learned how to use their fear, their legends of Myri's Children to your advantage. There would always be a price for that, for... being a savage among barbarians...

But he never thought it would be in the disgust of his lover's eyes.

Slow, measured steps carried him from the small but well-stocked bathroom and into the bedroom. From the barred window he could see a minor galaxy in the form of windows, each into a hectic world of families and couples and children all claiming beds, arguing over closet space, putting up clothes and curtains and cleaning and squabbling...

He wanted to smile at that... victory, of a sorts. They'd given Justus their word they'd get his people to Sunberth safely, and they had. But now that victory was ashen and worthless to him. They had their gold but, shyke, since when did that matter do him?

He'd lost something in her. She's seen him... as Myri intended.

"You knew what I was. What I am."

His words were low, almost mournful, but they had steel lining them, supporting them. No-one, nod lovers nor friends nor gods, would make Razkar apologize for being a Child of Myri.

Nor reaping glory or souls in her name, through whatever means he chose.

"But I... understand that was a... shock."

There was a pause. He could find more more words to fill the empty air, but the silence buzzed and stank like poison. Finally he just sighed, bowed his head and crossed his arms... and shut the curtains, plunging the room into gloom.

"Say what you must. Ask what you will. No untruth shall you hear from me..."

Receipt:-40gm to house the fugitive Denvali, paid up for the rest of Winter (Shared Room, Single x12)
-15sm for Private Room, Basic, paif for ten days

by **Edreina** on January 7th, 2014, 7:13 am

The Myrian's words were far beyond the veil of thunder in Edreina's ears as she stared into the vase, seeing only red red red. One hand tore through her hair, brushing it back and away from her ashen face. An eternity passed and finally the funeral drums in her ears grew silent and the aftershocks in her limbs died. Realizing that her breakfast was firmly in place and no longer planned to escape, she set the vase down and rested her elbows on her knees. Without words, still, she rested her spinning head upon her palms, unable to meet her lover's eyes.

"I just don't... understand..." she whispered finally and she heard Razkar relax ever so slightly. "I'm sorry I just... Don't." Her breath caught and she fought to force the image of Razkar's bloody hands, his bloody lips, and his bloody teeth from her mind. A mop of red hair shook as she did her best to banish the thoughts before realizing it was futile; she would have to settle with distracting herself or eventually coping with the bloody truth. Razkar did not speak and she realized that he was listening, waiting for her to explain her thoughts before his own came into voice.

"You killed them... defeated them in even combat... I don't see why that is not enough... Why you have to desecrate their body in such a way." Blue eyes made bright by threatening tears were revealed as she looked up at him, shaking her head faintly. "You were victorious in ending their life, in winning... It just seems so... disrespectful to tear apart their body in such a way." A more morbid side of her emerged in a staccato voice. "I mean... if you were to eat all of him, that would be ok... It'd be using him like any other-... Humans are just animals, after all..." She sighed and brought her knees up to her chest and then rested her forehead upon them. "But the fact that you took only his heart, the center of his being, and ate it... I just... I don't..."

Disgust and fear were open in her expression as she looked up to her lover, pleading in silence before finally finding the words. "Maybe if... If you'll explain why you do it... it won't seem so monstrous-" Her hand rose in apology face paling as her tongue outran her mind. Even looking at him, clean though he was now, her mind kept replacing the face of the man she loved with that of the monster she had witnessed upon the docks.

(c) Wanda Endust

by **Razkar** on January 8th, 2014, 2:52 am

"I just don't... understand... I'm sorry I just... Don't."

That much Razkar knew anyway, but so much more followed. He listened, gazing at her with sullen, watchful eyes, arms folded over his chest. He knew how he looked. Sullen, defensive, unapproachable... everything alien and intimidating the barbarians saw in the Children of Myri. But now she had seen him as they did. She had suspected, flushed at their sneers and slurs, defended him and his honor on a few occasions... but now she knew what she'd been defending.

Words tumbled over themselves as she let loose her emotions. More than once he wanted to break his stoic facade and embrace her, crush her to his chest even if she screamed or struggled... but what would that do to her now? Her eyes shone with fear and disgust... Goddess, that really was the only word for that rank, vomitous emotion turgid in her eyes. He'd seen it countless times.

You knew she would see this. It was only a matter of time. But you never planne for it, did you? Never prepared the words, a neat little speech. Well... Tanroa and Lhex aren't amused, are they?

"Maybe if... If you'll explain why you do it... it won't seem so monstrous-"

"When Myrians die... our souls must be released unto Dira's embrace..."

His words were hushed, reverential. So different from the beast she'd seen before. Here was the scholar and poet she'd known, the savage who spoke Common fluently and quoted to her the thinkers of his land and even others. The Anti-Myrian, in many ways, she'd thought... and all the more jarring for what she'd just... endured.

"We burn our dead. We lay them in state for three nights, then mount them on a pyre, to burn to ash and be given to the Next Place. There Dira will return them to Myri, and we can be reborn..."

His eyes glanced up, soft and warm, but in a way an ocean was... and Edreina knew how dangerous an ocean could be when roused to fury.

"My point is... a body is not just a body. It is a trophy. It is proof to Blessed Myri that her son gained victory in her name... and when we consume our enemy's heart, their core, their courage... we gain that for her."

He stepped forward, and it was like a thunderfall in the confines of the room. Shadows loomed and leered around him, nestled around his eyes as he looked down at her, impressing his truth and that of his peoples'.

"It is not desecration, Edri. I send worthy souls to Myri. The Yukmen we killed together? Their flesh was not tasted by me, neither do their deaths ink my skin. They are beasts, no different than wolves or tigers, and to destroy them is a service to the world. But to slay in Myri's name and be worthy enough to call yourself her Son... that is a warrior's service."

The warrior in question knelt by her side and... no, he didn't reach out. Seeing her shrink from him now, he didn't want to dwell on what it might do to... her...

"Ah... shyke..."

It should have been a snarl of fury, but what oozed from his lips was a moan of horror. Dread, thick and undeniable as a lead cloak, settled on him and pushed him down, knees to the floorboards, hands pressing down...

She will turn from us. She won't be able to take this life, the things she will see you do.

Monster. Violater. Betrayer. All the things she was afraid you were, she will see they were true.

You will be alone again. You deserve to be.

"... no..."

"... No..."

"NO!"

CRUNCH!

His hand balled into a fist and crashed down so hard that a scarlet spasm of pain arhced through his body, shaking that leaden cloak of nightmares. But he embraced it; the reality of it. Physical and pure, which is what he needed, not the daemonic afflictions of Yahal, may the Void take him.

CRUNCH! CRUNCH!

Twice more his hand smashed, knuckles bruising, forceful enough to tremble the vase on the bedside table. Razkar knew... he knew this frightened her, and his sweating head jerked up-

-so she could see the misery and anger and frustration that warred in his eyes. He struggled to focus on her, through the red tendrils that snaked at the corner of his vision. He breathed... felt the rote suck and pull of his lungs... the swell of his chest... and he felt the Mark of Myri purr into life at the back of his neck...

"I cannot... be... else but... what I am... and I am a Child... of Myri." He bit out the words until the cloak was almost floating above him, dread dispelled for the moment, until he could rise...

... and stand free from that barbarian god's curse. He looked down at her again... and finally, with his breath held tight and his teeth gritted... he laid his hand upon hers...

"I am still he whom you gave your heart to, Edreina Whitewave. Mayhap... you will never understand. And if you do, will not condone. But..." He licked his lips and swallowed, facing the final question.

"I would never ask you to turn from your Sea Father. Do not ask me to do the same."

by **Edreina** on January 10th, 2014, 4:53 am

If Edreina were a plant, which would be a ridiculous in and of itself, she would have turned a very somber shade of blue and wilted ever so slightly, just around the edges. He was right. He always seemed to be. Being shocked by his actions was understandable but her revulsion was a touch uncalled for. Who was she to judge something she did not understand but was so deeply ingrained in his culture that he knew no better?

Gently, she squeezed his hand and looked up at him, blinking away the image of his fouled by blood and gore. "I... understand, now... It's your culture and, thought I may not agree or support it... I support you... And... That's what matters, right?" She shook her head, smiling weakly. "I'm sure that my people's tradition of casting a body to sea is just as odd to you as this is... odd," despite herself, she swallowed hard as she sought a word to adequately describe just what it was, "to me."

Understanding... It was what built or destroyed any relationship, Edreina realized. Friends, enemies, lovers and even...

Without a word she rose and strode over to the pack she had dropped without a single thought, until now. It took a few moments, but finally she found the precious jeweled scroll case given to him by Yahal, and the yet unread scroll within. When he had thrown it away out of anger, she had retrieved it and kept it safe until such a time as he would be open to reading it.

"Understanding..." she whispered, kneeling before him with it cradled in her palms. "It's something that both of us must learn at times, no?" Guileless eyes held the case aloft, each and every encrusted jewel glittering faintly in the wan light, painting them with soft orbs of colored light. If he took it, she would sigh in relief. If he read it, her eyes would glow with delight and the mark on her palm would warm. If he made a move to throw it again, she would retrieve it and set to wait until she was sure he was ready.

(c) Wanda Endust

by **Razkar** on January 11th, 2014, 2:45 am

It went as well as he'd hoped, and for once, that didn't make Razkar suspicious. His words hadn't been raging nor bitter; he'd been calm, unashamed... even instructional. The barbarians ways would never be his own, and they would ever look at his with the horror he had seen in her eyes.

But this one? She had seen the "worst" of him and there she sat, shaken but not fleeing, nauseated but still willing to stand by his side and claim, "He is mine."

The male smiled and knelt before her, forehead resting against hers, and a sigh of pure relief slipped from his lips and sagged his shoulders.

"Thank you for... understanding..." He said with a slight smile, mirroring her words. "It means much to me that you can. I can think of few barbarians who... would...?"

Then she was up and his words trailed off, frown on his face as Edreina was suddenly imbued with new purpose. He watched her walk over to her pack, rummage through it and produce...

The Myrian's jaw dropped. At the sight of the beautiful, glittering, priceless object, a hundred snarling and shrieking memories battered their way into the front of his mind. The terrible beauty of Yahal, judging him, cursing him. His lover standing tall, in flesh as she had done recently in spirit, speaking in his defense against a god. The pain and the violation he'd suffered... his own bitter rejection of this "gift" the god had left behind.

But, apparently, she had not been so quick to scorn it.

"You... You kept it?!"

"Understanding. It's something that both of us must learn at times, no?"

Now the tables were truly turned, and Razkar was the on besieged by words and reason. How could he deny her now, after all he had said? But this was different, surely? What had been done to him... the judgment passed on his life, his destiny by Yahal was... unspeakable.

But she did now waver. She knelt before him as he rose and offered the scroll to him as a penitent would a priest. Such subservience from a female was unknown to a Myrian male, and the shock on his face soon eclipsed his outrage that she had betrayed him-

Yes! Betrayal! Mayhap this was not just her horror and shock at your actions. Mayhap this was all - all! - just some ruse to weaken you for this very moment?! Yahal could have tainted her, could have-

A vicious, angry, animal snarl rent the air and there was the faintest of trembles in Edreina's arms... but it faded. Razkar's hand closed to a fist and for that single, awful moment, much that was terrible and could never have been forgiven whispered in his ears...

"You trusted me..."

The words were low. Almost strained. The tone of a man who would do what he had to, not what he wanted. Even the words and wisdom of a god held no curiosity for Razkar, not if it was from the one that had weakened and scorched his spirit so. But that wasn't the point.

She was.

"Now I..." He picked up the artifact, felt the gold and gems and cold, polished casing in his palms, heard the faint rustle of paper inside it. "... will trust you..."

Razkar breathed deep, and unfurled the Penita Scroll.

by **Edreina** on January 13th, 2014, 6:56 am

OOCHere. Proof I didn't spend ALL of my time watching GoT...

Ahem... Pardon the crappy post. xD

As her love read, Edreina would remain utterly silent, utterly still. For all the world, she was a statue awaiting the word of her fate. If the storms of rage and fury grew in his black eyes, she would remain that way, letting his torrential hate wear itself out against her quiet, unwavering faith. When he was done, she would quietly collect the scroll and promptly move on from the topic.

If instead the light of realization shone through his previously clouded eyes, a gentle smile would shatter the gargoyle's visage, bringing peace and rest to her gently aching heart. If he could find peace with Yahal then maybe, just maybe, he would eventually be able to reconcile his cursed fate and earn the winged god's favor.

Any attempt made by the Myrian to tell her what the scroll said would be met with silence and a raised palm. For once, Edreina would not let her curiosity rule her. Whatever was in the scroll belonged to Razkar and Razkar alone; if Yahal had known words for her soul, he would have delivered them to her. For all she knew, the words on the gleaming scroll spoke of the darkness of the deepest crevice of Razkar's tattered soul.

The Svefra knew how dark her lover could be, how tainted by a life of murder and of battle. But, try as others may to make her see it on a daily basis, she could not. He was so much more than a bloodied sword to her. That was why, on days like today, she found herself shocked but... not as much as she felt she should have been. It was one thing to see a monster, another to know its heart.

(c) Wanda Endust

by **Razkar** on January 15th, 2014, 1:56 am

The words scrawled onto the parchment could have been written that morning or have been resting in their tomb of finery for millenia. They reeked even to Razkar's ignorant mores of age and ancient wisdom, though the words came from a heathen god, born of deserts rather than jungles.

In silence he read the close words by the flickering candle, the etched Common seemed to grow shadows that whispered across the white parchment... mayhap further than that, into his mind like a soft, cool wind.

And he did say to Yahal, "Lord, your face grows dark and your eyes moist. Never have I seen your soul so troubled. Please, I beg of thee, pray tell me what shakes your faith?"

Yahal did turn to him, and his hand did point through air and time and space, so He could see the faces his Lord beheld.

And Yahal spake: "All you see are those who suffer by my hand. They are crippled; they are stymied, both in mind and flesh. In their dark moments they curse my name and my justice."

"Lord," He said, "Why do you weep and mourn for those wretches that would abandon and scorn thee?"

And Yahal spake: "Because only by my scorn can they learn my truth. That is why I weep. Here, a warrior who could be the shield of his people, and not just the sword for their leaders. There, a merchant who could feed his village rather than sink all in ruination. Even here, a king and war-chief, now enfeebled for his false love to a wife that held him above all. But all can turn from darkness and corruption; all could embrace me."

"Lord," He said, "Mayhap they never shall. Stubborn are men's hearts, and they grow harder with insult and assault."

And Yahal spake with a somber voice: "They could be so much, if they would only learn; if they could look past their fear and pain and doubt and anger. I would armor them with my faith and arm them with my purity, for they would be righteous and worthy to all. But they must suffer, and I weep for these lost souls as they suffer, for my hand wrote their pain, but only through it can they learn. And I will wait, and pray for them, and hope for them, so my tears can end."

He read and re-read them with his face immobile save for his eyes monotonously sliding left and right, left and right, left and right, until the Svefra may have worried what he was trying to absorb was in some foreign language or even beyond his ken.

But much more transpired in his heart. So often did it threaten to burst from his lips. The outrage; the anger; the insolence and effrontery that this heathen go should make him suffer so-

But is not the same true of the Goddess-Queen? Does She not encourage - nay, require - Her children to be tested and trained and pushed to their limits? Pain is the constant friend for a Myrian; it drives us to be the best we can.

And what would Yahal have you be "best" at? One of his lackeys? Another mindless, toadying disciple like in the scroll?

No... righteous. Willing to sacrifice.

You have sacrificed! You lost Ayatah-

She left of her own accord.

You left your home-

Of my own accord.

This is not the Will of Blessed Myri! This is the torture and machinations of a barbarian god! Purity and Faith? Think you he has any love for the Goddess of War?

"Pure in the way of the warrior; loyal unto Dira to the Goddess-Queen." Those words are upon the sacred stones of the Training Yards. They stand for more than raging bezerkers from barbarian lore.

Finally, there was movement from the sculpted Myrian. The scroll lowered and a long, slow sigh escaped from his flaring nostrils. He let go with one hand, parchment waving lazily, loosely, as he massaged his eyes... and Edreina heard a mutter of Myrian she could not make out.

Razkar looked up with eyes that one could have called "defeated" or "understanding". It would depend, though, on where you stood.

"It was easier just to hate him..."

by **Una Tanta** on March 3rd, 2014, 12:27 am

Edreina :

Razkar :

Please don't be afraid to PM me with any questions ^-^ and please don't forget to edit your grading request to "graded".

Closed [Sunset Quarters] The Heart of the Problem