The Shade of Grey [Ainyi]

[Edric Wingard]

The 91st of Winter, 513 A.V.

The wind was irresponsive. Quietly, the air seemed to thicken with an unspoken tension that could not be defined. The Eagle wearily looked around, his eyes darting back and forth as he studied the bustling city of Wind Reach. Presently, he was in the company of his fellow Wind Eagles and they were praising the skies under the unexpected, but welcomed presence of Syna. Her bright rays had pierced the smog of winter to deliver a rare day of sunshine to the Inarta and his colony was determined to thank the gods for such a gift. As per usual, Syna merely smiled down on them; their aerodynamic forms twirling as they rode thermal after thermal; dipping and diving, climbing and descending in an intricate tale of connection. For a single moment, these creatures were connected to beings that they could hardly understand or even dream of coming close to in power. Zulrav, although not present, lifted their spirits heaven bound until Wingard knew that if there was nothing else after this moment, he would die happy.

This joyous flight seemed to be hampered, however. An instinctual feeling of wariness had settled into the Kelvic’s bones, niggling at his conscious to escape the rocky mountains of his home. His fellow raptures seemed to carry the same sentiment, he noted, as they soared above Mt. Skyinarta but refused to land, even after spending many chimes exercising. Some of the elder Eagles eventually gave in and settled back to the earth, but Wingard was not certain. Something was off. The winds that usually whispered gossip in a garbled voice to his ears was dead in its silence and the Eagle secretly wondered if something bad was about to happen. Frowning, the Wind Eagle finished his final flight pattern in their collaborative dance and bowed out, his form dipping to the right as he left. It would do him no good to avoid such feelings; perhaps it would be best if he simply returned home and investigated.

Landing at the outcropping of stone that led to his aerie, Wingard seamlessly transformed into his familiar human form, the sensation of cool stone beneath his feet a pleasant reminder of his nakedness. Smiling absently, he recalled the moment that such a thought would not have existed in his mind, Ainyi’s peaked cheeks a pleasant memory. The young Chiet’s embarrassment and then forced detachment over his state of dress was still rather humourous to the Eagle, and he idly contemplated if he should pay her a visit again. She was working from what he recalled, and perhaps the company of another would settle his ill-feelings. Pulling on a pair of bryda and his katinu, the russet-haired man stuffed his feet into his boots and began making the short journey to the Processing Center on foot.

Stepping out onto the path did nothing to ease his growing tension, however. His fellow neighbours were nowhere to be found and his keen ears picked up the distinctive sound of rising voices and skirmishes farther down. Alarmed, the Kelvic spun around and dove back into his aerie, retrieving the lone sword and dagger that lay guard at its entry. Strapping it to his body, he worked his legs into a run, aiming to figure out what the petch was going on. Fights often broke out in the winter, so it was hardly an uncommon occurrence that would warrant such expediency from him, but Wingard’s ill-feelings were pushing him forward. The initial sight of three Deks armed with crude weapons harassing two Endal hardly caused him to pause. His neighbours were easily eliminating the threat; their bodies nourished and strong. Letting out a quiet breath he hadn’t really realized he was holding, the Kelvic nodded his head in acknowledgement to the patrol team and continued on his way.

The trepidation was still present in the Eagle’s system, however. Keeping his eyes open for anymore conflict, he absentmindedly was impressed that the Dek had made it that far up the mountain. Generally, they didn’t ever bother coming that high up as it usually just led to ridicule and abuse, but it seemed that the hopelessness they faced was breeding courage – or idiocy. Entering the Processing Center, Wingard raked his eyes over the familiar setting. It seemed empty aside from the workers; the sounds of chains and woodcutting the only sounds he could register. Looking around, he spotted a familiar shade of red hair – a feat that could be considered impressive considering that red hair was practically the only colour that decorated the heads of every Inartan. Cackling inwardly at his enhanced eyesight, the Eagle slowly began making his way over, noting the way his prey was focusing on one thing or another.

A delightful wrinkle was imprinting itself on her skin, her eyebrows furrowed as she contemplated. Ensuring the silence of his steps, he shielded his body from her view behind tables and hanging chains, hoping that the movement would obscure his figure. As he skirted behind her, utilizing the creeping shadows as well, he took the final steps towards her and rested his nose a mere centimeter or two from her ear. Until this point, he had been holding his breath, knowing that such a shift of air around her would alert her of his presence. He smiled rather mischievously before saying in a husky, masculine voice, “Boo.”

[Ainyi]

"Denmi! Have you disemboweled the deer properly?"

"Yes, Ma'm!"

Ainyi was grateful she was on salting today. Far less bloody, far less messy. And she got to stand by the curing closet most the day. The supervisor peered carefully at the Yasi's work before shaking her head in disapproval. "Chick, you've managed to leave bits of spleen and lung attached to the spine. Clean that up! Those are not parts you want to find in your dinner later, do you?"

"Yes, ma'm!"

She had gotten in quite a lot of trouble for her missed work days. They punished her with reduced meals. Glancing over, the Chiet counted her ribs under her Vinati and shuddered. Missing meals in a Famine was almost deadly. It was no surprise that she finally found some obedience.

An uneasiness was set about the room. Workers were swapping whispers of friends and colleagues who left their rooms early that morning, with weapons, makeshift armor. The super seemed to glare at any who mentioned it, but at the same time, there was an uneasiness in her own eyes.

"Farva, take over on this deer," The elder woman called harshly, but had a look of strain to her face. Ainyi's brow furrowed in worry, but she said nothing. "Denmi, empty the curing closet, let's bring it to the foodstores!"

"Yes ma'm!"

The freshly-unmade youth scampered around Ainyi into the closet, heaving out pieces of jerky almost bigger than herself when put together, and followed after the old woman dutifully. Ainyi shook her head, and returned to salting the meat cuts. Her gloved hands dipped into the brine bucket, and dumped it generously over the cut, turning it, layering it, scooping the other salts on the table, layering it further. Only when the cut what white-crusted pink, did she hook it and slide it to the closet. Rinse. Wash. Repeat. A full bell passed. More meat cuts salted.

Salt. Hook. Repeat.

She was about to begin the next cut, but something felt...off. The other employee in the room looked around nervously. She mimicked the action, but saw nothing wrong. Nothing out of place. A chain clinked. She turned sharply at the noise, but nothing there moved it.

Calm, her mind whispered to itself. You are afraid. Everyone is. There's nothing happening. Just keep working.

Dutifully, the Inarta sighed heavily, and began salting the next cut. At least she meant to.

"Boo."

Ainyi yelped, jumping a little. She turned sharply to see familiar, russet hair and a welcome, pale face. She pulled her lower lip up to make a face at Wingard, jabbing his ribcage playfully with her elbow. Her other employer chuckled, and she understood it now. He was in on the joke. However, Ainyi didn't pull away from the closeness Wingard established; rather, she sidled her shoulders into his chest, lifting wild olive eyes at his with a relieved smile.

"Nice to see you too," She remarked with a light laugh, before eying his body up and down. "I see you're dressed today. Didn't go hunting, I take it? A shame. I'm sure some other workers here would love to see you parade around naked." Her teases lilted in tone, for maximum embarrassment, and maximum affection. Farva cleared his throat, and walked back to the Food Store wordlessly. They were alone now. Yasa and her quiver lay with her things about ten feet away. Around her neck, a small silver glass pendant with the dark silhouette of an archer nestled between her breasts on it's lengthy leather cord.

She giggled at the silence, before discarding a glove, reaching for one of his own hands, her face now taking a more serious tone. "In truth, I'm glad you're here. Something's felt...wrong today. Half our staff is missing. Denmi and the super haven't been back from the Stores in over a bell-" Ainyi sighed, looking around, before lowering her voice. "There's been talk that Chiet left the Commonrooms this morning with weapons and makeshift armor. Something's...something isn't right."

Removing the other glove, she turned to face him, backside leaning against the table. Her arms crossed over her body, a stray hand rising to play with the pendant absent-mindedly. "Do you know what's happening?"

oocSince we haven't played out the gift thread, I'm going to go with the pendant for now. I can come back and edit it later if need be!

[Edric Wingard]

The moment her elbow began nearing his ribcage, the eagle’s mind raced with potential maneuvers and counterstrikes he could make in order to weaken the hit and deliver the maximum amount of damage. He was far too close to actually evade the hit entirely, but if he stepped backwards to the right and shifted his weight, the elbow would only graze his exposed ribs while his katinu would hinder the rest of its momentum. They would have had to turn with the hit if it missed its target, which would expose the top three vertebrae of their neck perfectly to him. Then, he’d make his move, channeling his hand like a blade and striking between the second and third vertebrae, delivering a shock to the nervous system that could momentarily paralyze them which would be the perfect time for him to make his escape.

It was only at the end of that flash of strategizing that Wingard remembered that the girl who was about to touch him, didn’t actually mean him any harm. Forcibly dragging himself away from such instinctive reactions, the Kelvic let the playful jab connect and let out a strained smile as he exhaled. Recovering rather quickly, he forced his muscles to relax as he dramatically flinched downwards, groaning in pain as he did so. Grasping his ribs he lightly quipped about them being broken and the ill-temperament of women before leaning down to brush a soft kiss upon her head. He grasped her shoulders lightly as she leaned into him, rubbing them absentmindedly as he listened to the soothing tones of her light voice. He allowed the soft chirps of their language to wash over and calm him, easing away his animalistic reactions he went through earlier.

He did not wish to frighten Ainyi with the close call, so he allowed her to talk to him as he held onto her, stealing the heat from her body with the coolness of his fingers. It baffled him that prior to this moment, if he had been notified about him holding onto another human being, let alone allowing them to touch him, he would have looked at the buffoon that spoke such idiocy with the deadest of looks he held in his arsenal and quickly escaped their growing insanity. But the last season had been full of surprises and Wingard found himself yearning for the caresses of his companion’s fingers and the high trills of her laugh.

Rolling his eyes inwardly at such displays of romanticism, he responded quickly to Ainyi’s quip about his previous stage of undress, “Unfortunately not, Ainyi. I spent the day praising Syna and the beautiful skies that we have been graced with today.” He frowned here, his voice lowering slightly when he noted that one of her fellow workers was listening into their conversation. The eagle took a moment to pause as he stared harshly at the back of the Chiet’s head, his glare penetrating. The man inadvertently shivered, peeking over his shoulder before ducking away at the horror of making contact with Wingard’s rather unpleasant stare. Still watching him, the Kelvic lowered his head closer to the archer’s ear before saying softly, “That display of skin is not for all prying eyes.”

He grinned devilishly, his eyes twinkling as he awaited his lady’s reaction. Really, to Wingard he did not particularly care who saw his naked flesh, but he also understood that such displays were very private and special to the Inarta so he played up to the cultural difference; teasing Ainyi with an easy weapon. Satisfied with her responses, he watched as she fiddled with the necklace that graced her flesh, the cool glass sparkling within her fingers. Idly, he reached out to run a narrow finger over the edges, petting the trinket for a moment as he listened to the nervousness within her voice as she questioned what was going on. Truthfully, Wingard really didn’t know – which was why he ended his flying initially.

The news that Chiet had left their dorms with weapons did not sit well with the Kelvic. Like raw meat in his stomach, it curdled and upset it; the bacteria toying with the acid until he was quite sure he wanted to lean on something for a moment to gather himself. Frowning, Wingard pulled himself away from Ainyi. He began recalling the little details he had previously blown off as unusual, but hardly important and began piecing them back together within his mind. The Dek up in the Aeries, the sounds of skirmishes; spatters of blood on the wall… Flicking his eyes around, he took in their surroundings and suddenly the tension in the air made sense.

Knowing that there was not enough proof to raise the alarm over such unsubstantial evidence, the eagle slowly grasped the upper arm of his Chiet gently but firmly before saying quietly, “How many are missing from their job today?”

He didn’t dare look at her, his eyes roaming around the room to take in everyone else that was present. Some were still working undisturbed, their forms bent furiously over carcasses as they carried out their tasks productively. Others however, seemed to be in possession of flitting eyes and shaking fingers. Gently, he let go of his companion after directing her towards Yasa and swiftly crossed the floor towards one of the jittery Chiet. Without much strain, he had the man pinned to the table he was chattering over, his face slamming down precariously close to a wicked blade. Grabbing the flailing arms before they could acquire a varying range of sharp objects, Wingard leaned his body weight onto the flustered man, twisting one of his arms painfully.

“Hello,” he whispered as he bent over him, ignoring the frantic calls of the director as she squawked obnoxiously, “You seem a little nervous. Why is that?”

The man continued to struggle but didn’t say anything, lifting a leg up in an attempt to donkey kick the Avora. Feeling the hit connect with his lower thigh, Edric grunted unpleasantly but didn’t relinquish his hold, twisting the arm even more to the point that the joints seemed to groan under the pressure. “A little more, you know, and I’ll break your arm in two. Let’s try this again: why are you nervous?”

Again, the creature said nothing and Wingard let out a predatory hiss of frustration. Eyes glinting, the Kelvic considered his options. Ideally, he did not want any blood on his hands and breaking this man’s arm in front of an audience really wasn’t appealing to him. However, his instincts told him that there was something going on that this vulture was a part of and never in his life, had his instincts been wrong. Like any knowledge he strived to obtain, Wingard went about it like a hungry hyena and this would have to be no different. Unfortunately, sacrifices needed to be made, and this man’s arm was going to have to be one of them.

Applying the needed pressure, the arm snapped like a twig in his hands; the bone breaking cleanly. Letting out a bothered sigh, he effortlessly tossed the screaming man to the floor, watching as he collided with a stray stool that enhanced his rather unappealing features with a flourish of blood. As he struggled to stand, Wingard towered over him, planting his foot on the broken arm and eliciting a scream, “Now, what were you going to tell me?”

The Kelvic disliked violence but sometimes, the end justified the means.

He cocked his head and waited.

[Ainyi]

Ainyi's eyes craned to look up at Wingard's after his comments on the tempers of women, wrinkling her face in mirth. A smile blossomed over her face and relaxed her as she felt his lips on her head, drinking in the comfort of his hands on her frame. Her left hand rose to warm his right hand; he would feel the thin line in her leathered hand where a scar remained from her assault three market days ago. In that quiet reminder of the traumatic event, she held his hand a little tighter, and shook her head as though that would wipe the memory from her mind.

She meant to reply to his comment on enjoying the sun. Truly, that confused her. She was almost positive her consort was an Avora hunter, yet praising Syna, the beautiful sunshine...did he mean flying? Was he a second rider? Ainyi turned to ask him, when his form bent down around her, lips and breath brushing against her ear in a way that made static race down her spine.

“That display of skin is not for all prying eyes.”

Ainyi exhaled breathily and knocked her forehead against his, finding his own ear to whisper into. "Funny; I didn't find any prying eyes in your bath." She hoped the reference to the incident almost half a season gone brought some fresh blushes to his face, leaving a quick kiss on his cheek. She felt his fingers brush along her flesh to play with the pendant he'd given to her. For this moment, she closed her eyes and inhaled. With all the bad that has happened to her the past season,that moment - however short - would belong to Ainyi. But now, it was time to prepare; she was not the only one with nerves at this time, and she had a feeling such tender moments would be in short supply today.

As Wingard pulled away, Ainyi saw the concern augmenting his thoughtful features. She crossed her arms under her chest, raising worried brows at his quiet but firm request. She turned, and began counting mentally. The Super and Denmi were at the food stores. There were three others in the room. Today was a busy shift as they prepared the hunt tally board for the new season, and three were missing.

"Three," Ainyi told him. Her eyes followed his to Farva, who had returned and looked very...nervous. With little time, Wingard had gestured her to Yasa, and slammed Farva into the cutting board. His face was stamped red by the blood on the cutting board.

The Chiet quietly strapped her quiver to her belt and thigh as Wingard asked his first question. The Super hobbled in at the commotion, with Denmi close behind her Bryda. Ainyi cautiously drew an arrow and kept it against Yasa, ready...though she knew not for what. She knew not what provoked Edric, why he acted this way. It scared her.

"A little more, you know, and I’ll break your arm in two. Let’s try this again: why are you nervous?”

There were four people now watching him intently. Three of them had deadly sharp knives. "Wingard," She muttered nervously, feeling her heart race and fingers tighten involuntarily on the arrow. The other workers glowered at the Avora, menace, envy, and hunger mixing into one foul mood.

As Farva's screams filled the room, and his blood painted Wingard's face, and mingled with the blood of animals on the floor, Ainyi's face clenched painfully. She was confused by this sudden violent outburst. She was about to scream at him when Farva did it for her.

"Shyke on you, Avora," The man spat between cries of pain. "May my brothers - and sisters - strike you down!" His eyes were wild with blood rage, boring right into Edric's. "We starve. You Thrive....You live....We die. Now...It's your...turn."

As Farva spoke and cried in pain, Denmi had grabbed a cleaver and began creeping behind Wingard. Ainyi's torn, confused, frightened expression erupted as Denmi raised the cleaver and approached. "Wingard, down!" she nearly shrieked. Jumping onto the meat counter, she drew back and released with a speed only the past nine years of secret practice could produce. It was almost too easy. Too mechanical. Within a matter of seconds a young girl went from trying to protect her friend, to slumped against the wall with an arrow in her chest cavity. She looked up at Denmi's face, melting in the pain. As she tried to cry out, blood poured from her mouth. Her coworkers cried out in shock as Ainyi reloaded her bow with almost too much precision for her liking, and aimed the arrow at those around her.

"If anyone tries to touch him, I will shoot your petching throat!" She hoarsely barked at them. Her whole body shook, and her eyes reeled down to Edric. "What the petch is going on, Wingard?" The sounds of clamors and weapons from the entrance began growing at an alarming rate. And then it hit her.

"Food," She said aloud. "They're going to raid the food stores. It's open rebellion." Her eyes fell to Wingard desperately. He's a hunter. They're out for his blood this very moment. Jumping down from the table, she kept the arrow aimed where it needed to be; all she had to do was draw and loose. She stood at his back, eyeing her colleagues carefully as they huddled around Denmi with wide, frightened faces.

"What do we do now?" Ainyi half whispered, half choked out. She tried not to realize that Denmi was bleeding out. Within ticks, the color drained from her face, and her eyes stopped moving. Ainyi tried to put from her mind that she took her first human life, and all it took was a flex of her muscles and a release of her hands. She fought to keep her meager breakfast down. Not here. Not now.

Inhale. Exhale. Her father's words guided her mentally. A panicked archer dies. A calm one lives. Slowly, her breath came to her, and her hands shook a bit less. As she felt her senses come under her control, Ainyi turned for a moment to catch Wingard's eyes, so the conviction of her next words would come across.

"I'm not leaving you, Wingard. I won't."

[Edric Wingard]

The Chiet’s hateful words did nothing for the Avora’s thunderous mood as they simply proved his hypothesis as correct. He frowned, his lips twitching at the bottom as his mind went into overdrive; his thoughts piecing together in his head so quickly that it would have been overwhelming for others. For Wingard, however, it was simply him planning out his next move as such a display of dominance over the pathetic excuse of life beneath him would not win him any favours from his chosen audience. His eyes had been darting about subtly as the creature beneath him threatened, the spittle that fell from his lips spattering across his bare chest as the eagle tried to gage the tension around him.

Wary fingers seemed to be skirting a variety of knives, cleavers, and metal tools that Wingard did not know the name of. He was easily outnumbered and although he was physically stronger than the workers - his display of throwing Farva to the ground evidence of that - desperation did something to a man that went behind one’s understanding of physics. The adrenaline of survival was an unfathomable power that one could not plan for as it often eluded logic and ran primarily on primal instincts alone. At this moment, the Avora knew that he was clearly seen as an unwelcomed alpha that had thrust himself into their ranks and he was willing to bet with the knowledge he now knew, that such an intrusion was not going to be responded well too.

Thus, at Ainyi’s shrill shout, Wingard did not waste a moment before hitting the deck. Breaking his fall by delivering a left-handed punch to Farva’s jaw that carried his entire weight, the hunter followed through with the hit, leading with his shoulder as he went down. Using the momentum, he tucked himself into a roll, escaping to the left a couple of yards away before he was back on his feet, hardly taking a tick to watch the unconscious head of Farva settle on the ground. With his initial target down, Wingard turned to face the unknown attacker, drawing his sword, only to abruptly jerk to a halt as he watched their body hit the wall, an arrow adorning their throat. His eyes widened in surprise at the blood pooling down the Chiet’s neck, her gargling noises of distress echoing in his head unpleasantly. Turning swiftly around, his golden orbs landed on Ainyi’s ragged form, the woman’s composure long gone as she threatened those around them.

For a tick, the hunter could only look at her blankly, his eyes similar to cool lava as he tried to combat the turbulent emotions that raged within him. He easily recognized that she had potentially saved his life - he could not predict how the opposing situation would have ended, after all – but he was stoic in his thoughts over the actions she had taken from both an emotional standpoint and an aggressive one. It cemented how she valued him, but it also portrayed the caged-animal persona she had embodied the last time he had met her here. The Avora was unclear in his own feelings over both subjects, but he figured that attempting to untangle such a complicated web at this time was highly unadvisable. They were, after all, in a threatened position.

As Ainyi’s back grazed against his own, Wingard barely offered her a glance. Instead, he focused his attention on the advancing Chiet around them. There was one that seemed to cower in the corner but with the ominous sounds of others approaching, the remainder seemed to gain bravado, casting a sparing glance at their dead comrade before picking up arms. Frowning slightly at this, the eagle gripped his sword tightly, refusing to make the first move. The concept of death did not appeal to him and if he could avoid bloodshed, then the man would do so. Regardless of their position in their society, they were still Inartan as a whole. It seemed rather pathetic to him that these castes were willing to slaughter their own people and Wingard was adamant that if he could avoid becoming a participant, he would.

Ainyi’s words of commitment tightened something in his chest, making it momentarily hard to breathe. Taming in a ragged breath, he nodded his acknowledgement to the archer before saying very quietly, “And I you.”

As the doors burst open, Dek and Chiet racing into the Processing Center, the Kelvic did not waste a moment, “Get on higher ground and keep your distance to maximize your shooting ability, Ainyi. We are not protecting the food stores as suicide is not a hobby I wish to dabble in. Cover me; I will stay on the floor and attempt to cut a path towards the Eagle landing. Move towards the east!”

As the enraged lower caste caught sight of the Avora, chaos ensued.

Chiet and Dek alike were suddenly upon them, lifting their weapons and attacking with that desperation Wingard had initially predicted. Although they did not necessarily have the skills that his caste and the Endal were privy to, the hunter did not bother underestimating them. They were overwhelming in numbers as the top only catered to the Elite, and Wingard soon found himself nearly under a dog-pile of opponents. Ainyi was his only ally at this moment and if he was not careful, he could easily be overwhelmed by their number and tenacity to win. Letting out an animalistic cry of battle, the Wind Eagle raised his sword, parrying an assault with a crudely made spear upwards. Breaking the opponent’s guard, the man dragged his blade downwards in an arch, catching the spear and easily disarming the Dek. Ducking to the right in order to avoid a secondary opponent, he quickly planted his feet, his front foot pointing towards the secondary attacker as he sidestepped towards him, slamming his arms forward. He was two-handing the blade; his dominant hand holding the neck of the sword as his right added power by pushing the pommel forward. The thrust was executed well, breaking through the meager defense of the Dek and entering his flesh like it would a pig.

Withdrawing the sword, the man felt a twitch of remorse enter his mind but he did not register it fully. Now was not the time for weakness or hesitation unless he wanted to die. Pulling back, he found himself leaning even further to the ground and tossing his head to the side as a knife occupied his space, catching his chin as he attempted a last minute dodge. Letting out a hiss of pain, he turned his attention forward again to spot the hand that had just passed his face. Grabbing it with his right, he brought the handle of his sword up and dropped it swiftly down upon the elbow of his attacker, dislocating the joint. A scream followed such an action but Wingard did not pause, his back muscles straining as they brought him to his full height once again.

Still holding onto the wrist of the Chiet, he watched as the knife fell harmlessly to the floor where he kicked it away. Using him like a shield, he threw his opponent into the thundering blow of another’s hammer, not wasting a tick as the debilitated body was heaved into the crowd, flattening three below him. Dragging a ragged breath in, he panted, spinning quickly in order to avoid a deadly blow of a throwing axe. Rushing towards the three that were attempting to remove the body that was upon them, Wingard stomped his foot down thrice; crushing throats as he did so. Rushing off once he knew they would no longer be a threat; he began finally making his way towards the landings. The Kelvic knew that if the Processing Center was any indication, the halls would be running rampant with adversaries and with a minimum amount of Endal and Avora trying to silence these riots would be incredibly difficult.

What worried the Kelvic more was that they had yet to arrive to begin with. The food stores would be an important area to protect, so the fact that no one that was most likely assigned here had made it was indication enough to him that things were not looking good in the Warrens. Getting trapped in such an enclosed space with so many foes was basically putting one’s life in the hands of lady Luck and Wingard would fully admit to never having any.

Blocking a slash to his ribs, the hunter ran his blade down the opposing one towards the tip, flicking his wrist and easily disarming the inexperienced creature. Making eye contact with it, the man frowned darkly, his golden eyes narrowing. He was disgusted. Without wasting any more time he smacked the man across the head with the blunt end of his sword, watching as a surprise look decorated his features. The blade rested at the man’s neck and with a sigh, he slammed it through the giving flesh.

Blood splattered across his face.

[Ainyi]

"And I you."

Something ached in Ainyi's ribs at those words. Her stomach churned her meager breakfast as Denmi's pale blue eyes remained upturned to the ceiling, unmoving. Her throat bobbed, her palms sweat, her pale skin seemed to crawl on her. But those words, that ache in her chest - they held her focus.

Their turn! Their turn!

The words were growing in volume and fervor by the tick. Ainyi nodded a quick, efficient acknolwedgement, and wordlessly ran to position, on a ledge near the tally wall four feet high. Her pack sat at the ledge's foot, with emergency rations, water, and a few other things. Mentally, the archer made a note of it. If a lower caste member got to it, so be it, but if they were to escape, they'd have to survive somehow. It flashed in her mind for not even a tick, as her eyes spurred about from the high ground, resting once more on the limp Chiet's body.

My first ever kill with a bow is one of my own, she found her mind echoing. Don't let her death be wasted.

With little else time to prepare, the Chiet and Dek burst in, a flooding river of rage and hunger. With axes fashioned of glass scraps and driftwood and worn bows with wobbly curves, they descended upon the Processing Center with gutteral cries.

Within ticks, a state of mind seized Ainyi, surging through every sinew, every fiber of her muscle. She was no longer Ainyi, in these moments. She was a desperate woman protecting the man she loved. And as six broke off from the main surge to the food stores to attack Wingard. A Dek meant to jump on him with a raised makeshift axe, howling in blood-lust. Emerald eyes sharp, she drew.

Inhale. Exhale.

The arrow embedded itself under his armpit, sticking up through the clavicle and grazing bloodly lines along his neck. The Dek fell five feet short of his target, writhing in pain. An arrrow slid from her hip quiver to her string with a mechanic speed that only nine years could ingrain into someone.

Three Dek previously focused on Wingard now cried in despair at the grotesque injury on their comrade. As Ainyi's eyes met theirs, despair fueled it's way into fury. Ainyi pulled back the arrow, releasing just as one meant to rush her. It planted in the right side of her chest; she sunk down as the breath escaped him, blood spurting from his chest with every fading pulse.

She could not, however, escape her third assailant as easily. While unarmed, this Dek was a hulking near six feet, with more flesh on his frame than Ainyi would have liked to deal with. He lept up and delivered a hard punch to her rib cage that knocked her clean off the ledge.

Something cracked hard somewhere within Ainyi as she landed on the stone floor; what, it was hard to tell as her body bathed itself in endorphins and adrenaline. Within a tick, the massive body was hovering over her. Brief flashes appeared in Ainyi's mind of Turrin's training. As jumped down to straddle her, Ainyi put Yasa up with her arms to meet his neck. She caught him in the throat hard, the Dek struggling to find his breath. Despite this, he still found the resolve to pin her shoulders, blood shot eyes staring into her with a deep sense of betrayal, mouth frothing like a feral beast.

Ainyi kicked wildly with her legs; miraculously, one of her knees landed in his groin. As his body reflexively recoiled, she used Yasa to push him off of her and on the ground, reversing the position. Before he could react, she beat him in the head with the top of Yasa. Thankfully, he slumped unconscious to the floor. Ainyi sucked in some breath to sigh in momentary relief, and discovered what cracked pretty readily. Her bottom most left rib screamed in protest causing her to hold her side as she scanned the room. Wingard was running towards the landings, blood painting his chin.

Stifling a cry of pain, she raised herself, and strapped her pack to herself with the deft speed only survival instincts could bring. Keeping an arrow rested on Yasa, she crouched out of immediate sight, and rushed after him. He was moving out of her range, and at this point standing on an obvious ledge shooting others wasn't going to do anything other than give her more trouble.

As Ainyi approached, Wingard had opened an assailant's throat, blood dotted his face almost delicately. In reminded her vaguely of the time they painted rabbit's blood. She swallowed to keep her bile down, letting out a cough that sent spasms of pain down her chest. Her body fell against the wall three feet from him, a cold film of sweat forming on her brow. Her normally pink tinged features were pale as winter snow.

"I'm, I'm al-alright," She choked out. "A D-d-dek got me from - from my perch. I, I, I think I cr-cracked a rib. But it's on my l-left, not, not my right. I can still - still shoot."

There was not a lot of time to catch breath. A Chiet began rushing them from about fifteen feet out. Screaming half out of pain, half in a battle cry, She loosed an arrow. It was sloppier than the others, arrow veering to the right. It managed to open his side as he was three feet from the pair, speckling Ainyi with blood as he hit the floor. Ainyi stomped on the man's throat hard, whacking his head with Yasa for good measure. As she watched the man's innards spill from his body, the Chiet's reeled. She recognized his face from the baths. It was one thing to open a rabbit from it's skin to eat it. But she knew this man. She turned her head to the side to hide from his cold stare, trying to find a scrap of sanity. Her back fell against the wall, padded by her pack. Her breath slowed, becoming ragged. Her quick, mechanical reload time was slowing, but she managed to knock another arrow in preparation for any other surprises.

"What- do, do we do...Win-wingard?" She stammered in the rough breaths.

[Edric Wingard]

As the blood spattered upon his skin, mixing with the sweat that soaked his brow, Wingard wondered what he was supposed to feel. He hoped it was nothing pleasant because as his eyes remained connected to his victim’s, watching as they flinted left and right in utter terror, the eagle felt nothing but nausea rile in his stomach. Although he clinically studied his prey as it perished beneath his talons or its spine snapped between his beak, the Kelvic noticed that although he readily brought death to many creatures, taking a human’s life was entirely different. Animals viewed life from the most basic of lenses. One needed to survive in order to breed and then die. Life was never really considered philosophically, and it hardly mattered as long as their genetic makeup was passed on. Sure, they fought off death until the very last breath, but that was instinctual and could not be faulted.

Humans on the other hand, held on to life so desperately that it pushed them to reach for immortality. The problem was that people were naturally logical creatures. This need to cling to life overrode their natural tendency to think and relied so heavily on primal actions that humans ceased to be understood and therefore, one became unable to read them properly. This inability to judge how one would act if threatened was what made them so different from animals. An animal fought tooth and nail to survive, often turning vicious and rabid if they had to which was normal. Humans, no, when humans found themselves seeing the figurative ‘light’, they altered their usual way of reacting and became so volatile that they simply resembled these creatures they hunted daily.

This regression of behaviour was why Wingard felt disturbed as he watched the fleeting life extinguish in the eyes of the man before him. This feeling of power that rushed through him at lowering a man so damn close to the floor that he forgot about his humanity disgusted the hunter because no one should have that amount of power over another. It sickened him that he was capable of doing this; of slaughtering someone that felt that they were so lost, that the only way to regain their identity was to kill their own people. The eagle swallowed the bile that was rising in his throat, carefully pulling his sword cleanly out of the man’s collarbone as it was momentarily wedged there. He kept his face stoic as he turned away from the body as it collapsed to the floor, his gaze refocusing on the staggering form of Ainyi as she hobbled near. Grasping her arm when she was within his distance, he frowned momentarily as she spoke of her injury, clenching her side tightly.

It worried him that she was hindered and although she let out a shot that remained fairly accurate, the Avora did not believe her words. A fractured or broken rib, regardless of the side, made it nearly impossible to stand straight. If she figured that she could continue to stand straight with such an injury, her pain tolerance was unbelievable and she was an utter idiot. Unbeknownst to them, that rib which was knocked out of place could puncture a multitude of organs that were within her body if she was not careful. It was pinnacle that she did not move laboriously unless she was truly suicidal. Grinding his teeth together in order to not curse out loud at another setback, the eagle barely had time to shout a warning before he was shoving the injured woman out of the way and drawing his sword in an upwards block. He was too slow though, the opposing blade slamming down hard into his half-completed block, breaking it easily. Some of the momentum was absorbed by his blade, but it was hardly enough to stop it completely and he found himself blinking through blood as a cut sliced deeply through his temple.

Hissing in pain, he found himself momentarily blinded as he erratically blocked his stomach, the thrust that was sent his way causing him to hop backwards to avoid it. Slamming the blade away from him, he drew his sword arm up to the right, dragging it backwards in a sideways slash. The Chiet blocked the attack, returning with his own parry and roundhouse swing that had Wingard ducking low and thrusting his blade forward into the exposed thigh of his attacker. They screamed as the leg gave way, crumbling downwards, and the hunter did not hesitate, using his blade as leverage to bring his opponent closer in order to slam his forearm into their jaw. He felt the connection keenly, the bone throbbing at the contact, but his target fell and Wingard collapsed backwards too, yanking his sword out of flesh as he did so. Breathing heavily, he scrambled to his feet, letting out a growl as a solid kick was landed against his ribs. Rolling with the momentum of the hit he clumsily was back on his feet, the metal of his sword clanging noisily on the stone floor.

“We need to get out of here,” he shouted at Ainyi, readying his blade in front of him as he faced his next opponent. His head was aching from the previous hit, his vision blurring before him. Blinking rapidly, he dragged his forehead against his katinu, smearing the red liquid like war paint across his forehead. Letting out a ragged breath, he readied his sword, parrying a thrust to his stomach and returning with a thrust of his own. Skimming ribs, he charged forward, two-handing the blade as he twisted his wrists in a clock-wise rotation, bending his elbows as he readied the hit. Connecting, arms extended, he breathed heavily, dragging his sword through the shoulder of his target before lifting his leg and thrusting it forward in a Spartan-reminiscent kick. The opponent flew backwards into his people, but Wingard also fell forward; his body unfamiliar with such a kick that he could not deliver it cleanly. Stumbling a couple steps, he caught himself but his head swum when he jerked upwards. Inwardly hissing as his vision doubled before him, he stumbled back towards Ainyi.

Grabbing her arm partially to keep her with him and somewhat to gain his bearings, the Kelvic staggered toward the landings, his willpower powering him forward. He did not want her to die, and he would be damned if a simple head injury would be the end of him. Rubbing the blood away from his eyes once again, the man found his center and focused. His peripheral vision to the right was heavily impaired, but he could still see clearly on the left so he positioned Ainyi on his left. If she had been stronger, he would have placed her on his right to cover his weakness, but with her rib, he did not want her to suffer another hit, so he placed her on the side he knew he could protect easily enough. Grimacing, the eagle scanned the area, edging towards a wall that led to the landings. If they could cover their backs with the wall, it would be one less angle they could be attacked from. Pulling Ainyi, he fairly growled out to her, “Head for the east wall. I am right behind you.”

Jumping in front of her, he swung his blade in a large arch, catching two Dek in his clean sweep before spinning around, the sword arching over his head as he delivered the killing blow. As one of the Dek went down, Wingard, with his sword still stuck within the warm corpse, turned to face the other attacker. Releasing the blade momentarily, he withdrew a dagger from his belt and without thought, encroached on the creature’s space and slammed it through their trachea. Withdrawing it easily, he threw the body at an opponent, sweeping under a roundhouse kick to his head and slashing out with the miniature blade. The new attacker backed up to avoid the hit and by doing so, cleared a jagged path to the wall.

“Move, Ainyi!”

[Ainyi]

Ainyi cried out in pain as she was shoved back into the wall; a shockwave rippled through her body, bringing her to her knees within an instant. She lifted her head to protest the sudden movement when she saw a Chiet's blade come down and connect down and slice across his temple.

"Wingard!" She meant to yell, but found her voice quartered by the agony in her side. As the blood flowed down his face and he blocked blindly, she felt her heart leap to her throat. Sucking in air in a blind fury, she tried to draw back, aiming at the Chiet's kneecaps. Before her arrow could leave the string, her chest burned and the injured archer fell on all fours in the spasm, Yasa with her. Her stomach finally gave way and emptied it's contents in a single agonizing retch; the arrow clattered helplessly beside her. Every fiber of Ainyi's body was shuddering; in pain, in fear, in helplessness.

There were few times in life that Ainyi truly felt useless. Her first day at the processing center, she felt as though she had never held a knife. The first time she stepped foot inside the Second Quiver was an embarrassment she will never live down. But never once did lives hang on the balance. As the woman knelt there, watching Wingard battle for his life, tears filled her gaze as panic and pangs washed over her. All she wanted in this moment was to do something - to use Yasa to kill all those against them, to pick up arms and fight along side him. In a fleeting glance, she tossed her eyes down to the flood of Dek and Chiet that were still pouring toward the food stores. She saw the curing closet, splinters of wood with the salted meat thrown about among the rabid caste members. How long would the food entertain them? How long would it take for them to realize one remained that slaughtered many of their own? What will you do then?


"We need to get out of here!"

His shout summoned Ainyi's full focus, his assailant giving him no quarter. Gripping Yasa tight for a tick, she grudgingly summoned the strength needed to unstring the bow and strap it into her pack swiftly. She fought the dizziness from the lack of oxygen in her head and straightened, searching the body next to her for the crude talon sword to arm herself with. Perhaps I may not shoot, the archer found herself thinking as she fed herself short, ragged breaths with a bent posture, but the Unforgiving take me if I won't do something.

"Wingard, he-here!" Ainyi croaked as he felled his next opponent and stumbled. The blood loss on him began to worry her. With neither of them at full fighting capacity, she wondered how much longer they could keep up this slaughter before they would both fall prey to their failing bodies. Using her legs, she pushed up to meet the wall, reaching her arm out to meet his, finding strength in their sudden physical bond. She winced as he protectively tugged her into his good side, but did her best not to let him see; they had enough concerns without petty whimpers to deal with. Even so, her pride wanted to be on his injured flank, protecting him. She kept the stolen sword, weight foreign in her hand, poised to strike in his blind side if needed.

“Head for the east wall. I am right behind you.”

"Better be," She threw back in her own harsh tone, her grip on his arm tightened. Blood trickled down the pendant round her neck, slipping into her chest, dotting her Vinati. Her consort made short work of the Dek. It was unsurprising, and as he did so Ainyi found herself frowning. She didn't need to help Wingard kill these Dek. They had never killed before in their lives, never held the weapons in their hands before today. That they actually believed they could kill someone who was trained to kill - albeit animals, but what were humans but more advanced animals - for all these years? Ainyi felt the same hunger their bellies did, the same oppression their hearts did, but to watch these Dek bumble forward and expect their deaths to mean something, to make some grander statement. Their passion burned bright in their eyes, bright as the red of their hair. It drained from them as the red of their blood spilled from their bellies to the floor. The sight sickened Ainyi, and for a moment, she stopped in her tracks. The myriad of reds that seemed to make Inartans famous were killing them before her eyes.

"Move, Ainyi!"

Ainyi did so hastily, taking advantage of her companion's longer, taller frame. With her torso bent over the ground, the archer rushed across to the wall, and waited for her companion to follow after, keeping alert to the number of hostiles around her. She assumed the stance Turrin taught her, bringing the sword up into a guard as the Dek swung at her weak side. She flinched and cried in pain, but the guard against the sloppy and obvious attack. She parried and aimed a slice across his belly while dodging his stab to her shoulder; the motion of the movement caused her head to spin, but the momentum of it dug her blade in deeper, landing the cut and spilling his entrails. However, before the Dek went down, he landed a slice down the top of her right upper arm. She hissed at the cut, but pushed past it in pure adrenaline. As soon as Wingard was in reach, her strong hand grabbed his arm to keep her from falling, half stumbling her way along the east wall towards the winding eastern wall that led to the hunter's landings.

Ainyi moved about ten feet before her foot hit a rock, and her already delirious balance put her down. She caught herself on her right arm, and felt the pain in the bleeding would, and the broken rib both. The twinges of pain came across her face as she used his body to pull herself back up, looking about nervously. "W-we can't k-keep this up," she shuddered out, knowing what waited for them if they stopped too long. Doubt and fear clouded in her eyes, if only for a second, before she pushed her body alone in it's afflicted condition. But they both knew their bodies were waning. What they really needed was time, and for attention to get off of them long enough for them to get away safely. From where they were, it was about a three chime walk from the hall to the open eagle landings, which mercifully included a door they could barricade in between them and others. They just needed to get there.

A sharp cry sounded from behind, and for a moment Ainyi felt the need to reconsider her cold relationship to the gods. A handful of Endal and Avora poured into the Processing Center, finally coming in to protect the food store.There was no time to praise anyone. There was no time to question anything. She simply gripped Wingard's arm tight, and began running as fast as her condition would allow, not even bothering to look over her shoulder.

[Edric Wingard]

As Ainyi broke away from him and headed towards the wall as he had instructed, the eagle could only spare a brief breath of relief. Her ragged statement over following her brought out an uncanny state of happiness within him and he promised himself that when they got out of this forsaken place he kiss the lady for even allowing a small piece of happiness in the current hell they were experiencing. Letting out a roar, the eagle grasped his dagger tightly, flicking the blade around so that the tempered steel rested against the outer side of his hand. Bouncing on his toes, he watched as the previously pushed Dek began making its way back at him once again, his lumbering form picking up a discarded spear from one of his caste’s limp hands. The weapon was made from a thick piece of lumber and a crudely cut piece of glass that made the Avora inwardly cringe. That tool practically screamed bacteria infestation and Wingard would bet his pinions that if he was cut by that, not only would he bleed, but infection would surely follow.

Grimacing as he watched the Dek warily, he slowly began sidestepping his way towards the wall, exposing his back to his next area of refuge. Once this creature went down, he’d make his way over to meet Ainyi and from there it would only be a quick sprint to the landings. He just had to pray that she was capable of taking care of herself while he dealt with this foolish Dek. Already, from the corner of his eye he could spot that the lower caste had made it into the food stores and he silently dreaded what sort of damage they were doing to their rations. Did they not realize that one singular moment of self-indulgence would simply lead to a longer status of famine? The amount of food that they received, or the lack thereof, may have been incredibly minimal and it was unfortunate, but it was done because there was hardly anything to go around. If they emptied out what was left in there, sure their stomachs would temporarily be full, but what would happen after that?

Right now, the hunters were bringing in kills for everyone. Did these idiots truly believe that after this pitiful excuse of a rebellion that they would continue to do that? The Endal were already known for their grandiose beliefs of superiority, so with this perfect excuse, did the lower castes truly believe that they would receive rations from such an unforgiving people? Even the Avora hunters would laugh in their face. For petches sake, Wingard was laughing. He could understand their desperation if he looked at it from an objective perception, but even then, that desperation could not justify their actions. This rebellion was destined to fail because although the Avora and Endal were easily outnumbered, they were trained professionals in a variety of tactics that the Dek and Chiet could barely understand. Many of them were hunters and experienced weapon wielders so Wingard could only assume that beyond the walls he was now trapped in, lives were being lost with ease by his caste members. Heck, even he, a hunter that was far more useful as an Eagle was slaying opponents left, right, and center with minimal difficulty, regardless of the overwhelming nature of the attacks he was facing. It hardly spoke for the poor souls that were no doubt getting slaughtered in other areas of Mt. Skyinarta.

Ducking downwards as the Dek directed a thrust at him, the Kelvic watched as the wood passed over his head before reaching upwards and grasping it tightly. A splinter lodged itself into his hand, but he barely noticed, only flinching slightly as he pulled the spear and gapping Dek closer. As he minimized the difference, he slammed the dagger into their abdomen, the ragged edges on the outside of the blade tearing through the flesh easily. Withdrawing it, he stood to his full height as the man came crashing down and with a finality to the attack, as the rapture rose, and the man fell, Wingard reared back, slashing upwards. The Dek’s sparse clothing ripped easily as the blade connected under the man’s armpit and then escaped out of his neck, the diagonal cut ridged and rough. It was hardly a beautiful kill, but human mutilation would never be in the eagle’s eyes, so he turned instead and quickly walked back to his discarded sword that lay like Excalibur in a dead body.

Unceremoniously yanking it upwards, he sheathed the sword in its scabbard and rubbed his head on his katinu once again. The blood lost and abrupt movements were really causing his head to swim. Staggering a little, he looked upwards to search for Ainyi and fairly let out a shout of panic when he saw her barely defend herself. Hissing, he made his way over to her crouched form, his own steps unsure and body tired. Wingard was not trained to keep up this amount of activity and exertion and he fairly agreed with the woman as she grasped his arm and said so. Weaving slightly at her aggressive touch, the man nearly pitched forward under her touch. His eye lids were becoming fairly heavy as he once again experience double vision. With a shaky breath, he closed his eyes, knowing that such a move could be disastrous for the two, but he needed a moment to collect himself if they were to continue. With the way he was feeling, the Kelvic did not know if he would be able to get them back up to his aerie. Sure, in his other form he was run more predominately by instinct alone, so he simply had to pray to Zulrav that the god would take care of them and provide them with easy winds for him to maneuver over.

He allowed Ainyi to lead them along the wall, still fighting with his blurred vision as they traveled. When she fell, the eagle found himself clambering down after her, his equilibrium long gone as he struggled to brace himself on the wall and not follow her to the floor. Groaning as the pain reverberated up his shoulder, he lay against the stone for a moment, his head lulling against it weakly. ’For Zulrav’s sake,’ he thought darkly, his mind willing his body to just get up and move, ’You are not dying here!’

Hissing with the amount of pain it caused him to get back to his feet, he once again found Ainyi dragging him behind her. A small, insane part of himself was laughing at the fact that such a tiny little thing was directing him around like a rag doll, but he refused to giggle aloud, lest she fear that hit to the head had done permanent damage. Continuing to hold his dagger tightly, the man kept his head turned to watch their flank as they moved, his eyes watching as Dek and Chiet alike contemplated attacking them next. At this point, they had already seen the amount of damage the two of them were capable of delving out, so the more intelligent ones – although could they truly be called that if they went along with this pathetic excuse of a rebellion? – seemed to be more wary of them. Grinning rather dangerously at such an observation, Wingard raised his hand that was occupied by his dagger in a rather cheeky wave as they race onwards.

It really wasn’t a smart move to incite the crowd of illogical Inarta, but the eagle was thankfully saved from his actions as a group of Endal and Avora finally made their way into the Processing Center. He let out a sigh of relief at seeing them, recognizing them as the perfect distraction for Ainyi and him. His rank really did urge him to stay and fight alongside his own caste and to control the riots that seemed to be exploding all over their city, but frankly, Wingard was done with the fighting. All of this was pointless; these killings were nothing but slaughter and poor sport. To stay and continue to add to the body count would only disgust him further as he knew that his added presence would do nothing but that. The Avora and Endal would be fully capable of quelling the masses without his blades, so turning away from what he was sure was going to become a massacre, the Kelvic ran with his Chiet; turning a blind eye to the blood that was being shed and the screams of dying Inarta.

As they burst into the landings, their breaths laboured and pained, Wingard fairly threw the doors closed. Searching the room for attackers, he quickly brought up his dagger into a defensive position when he saw the cowering body in the corner. The man there seemed to fairly scream out his terror, covering his face in his hands as he begged for his life. Blinking slowly, the eagle eyed him for a moment, taking in his defensive position upon the floor and the lack of weapons he possessed. He contemplated killing him, knowing that if he just rid them of the potential threat, it would be easier than worrying if he had hidden a blade or would attack them with their backs turned. However, Wingard also knew that sometimes, the easiest road was not always the right one. Unconsciously, he looked back at the locked doors, his mind jumping back to the deaden eyes of the man he had hacked into without ceremony, and shuddered. No, he didn’t want any more blood on his hands.

He just wanted to go home.

Dropping the defensive position, the Kelvic turned away from the man and directed his gaze to Ainyi; removing his katinu as he did so. Placing it in her arms without asking for permission, and stripping out of his bryda, he kicked off his boots as he spoke quickly, “I really haven’t got the pinions to pay for new ones so I need you to carry those.”

Gathering all of his things, including his blade, he placed the talon sword’s scabbard around her waist, his movements jerky as he piled his boots and bryda into his katinu and tied it together in a crude sack. Shoving it back at the woman, he didn’t spare her a glance as he walked over the landing and transformed.

The feeling of the winds beneath his wings created an eruption of gratefulness within the eagle. He basked in the freedom he could fairly taste, his burnt orange feathers that decorated the tips of his wings fairly gleaming in the light. Letting out a screech of empowerment, he turned towards the woman and without preamble, spoke to her, “Let’s go.”

[Ainyi]

Screams rang through Ainyi's ears; they blurred together like a sickening, agonizing chorus of pain and rage. As they hurried along to the Landings, the cries sounded like the screeches of eagles flying in formation on group hunts, though their unison stopped there. As the bodies clashed, and the Avora and Endal ripped the lower castemen apart as though they were nothing, the Archer found herself biting her tongue to stifle her tears, bracing her hand against the wall. She saw the look in one's Chiet face, as he ran at the Endal behind them.

He knew he would die, she reveled bitterly. Still, he threw himself away. Still, he thought this was better?

Flashes came in the Chiet's mind of her father's musings of a more equal Wind Reach; one where members could move up in the system, even after their Yasi years. One where their worth was defined beyond their youth. Where one was not disrespected for being a lower caste member. As though after all these years, that higher caste members would be so easily swayed. Ainyi shook her head bitterly at what seemed like foolish dreams now, grasping now at only what was real; only what was keeping her alive. She gripped Wingard hard, her hand digging into his arm as they pressed forward. Truthfully, how she had any strength left for any kind of grip in her right arm was shocking to her; but she would sooner lose her hand than release it from Wingard in this blood bath.

Ainyi gulped hard as she stepped over a woman's body. She still lived with an arrow in her throat, a trembling bloody hand reaching out to paint her calf. Shuddering, the girl shook her head as she pressed forward as quickly as her body would allow. No. Flawed as the caste system was, she wanted it back. Right now. She'd take it, and the Famine. Anything - anything but this. Denmi's blue face flashed in her mind, eyes staring upward into the ceiling. The woman fought her own painful shudders as she held her ribcage. Inhale, Exhale, She thought, but as she tried to execute, the pain of the motion caused her to cough and convulse. It was all she could do to hit the doors, and catch the air in her lungs.

As they opened, Ainyi stumbled forward and broke her fall on her elbows, eliciting what began to feel like almost a routine cry of pain. Raising herself shakily, she opened her pack for her Katinu; wherever they were going, it would help keep in the blood on her arm, and keep out the cold. They certainly couldn't go back inside at the rate things were going. The Chiet raised her gaze as she pulled the sleeves gingerly over, the garment still missing buttons from when she was assaulted, and eyes widened as she stood over the cowering man with the dagger, hesitating.

"Wingard!" Ainyi called to him through her hoarse voice, hoping it would be enough. Praying it would be enough. She already had enough blood on her hands for one day to regret for a lifetime. Blood she spilled to protect him. But this - this was an innocent. A bystander. This would be cold blood. Worthless. She stood there, tense, waiting for everything she protected and loved to crumble.

But as he turned to face her, he held strong, and she managed a small smile.

At least, until he began stripping.

Naked as his name day, Ainyi found herself stuffing his clothes in her pack obediently, wincing as he coarsely shoved his talon sword on her waist belt. Her face contorted into something of a child's when their parents did something strange and then explained it away with 'you'll understand when you're older', lips hardly keeping still for a second.

"Wingard!" She exclaimed as he began his exhibition, only half hearing his explanation of not affording new clothes. "Wh-what the petch are y-you doing?" After shoving his things in, she adjusted the straps to sit above her breasts to take the load of her cracked rib and watched him carefully for neurological damage. "D-did that cut go t-to your head? Or do you expect to seduce our attackers? They're hungry, and angry Wingard, and I d-don't expect some hussy to just-"

Ainyi did have words at this point. They were chastising, caring, worrisome as usual - but all of them were gone in an instant under Wingard's glorious wings. She fell to her knees, taking in the glory of what she felt, right then and there, was Wingard's true form. Her mouth fell agape, all pain in her body forgotten as she felt clarity wash over her, even if for only a tick.

For what felt like eons, she stood there on her knees - stunned by his feathers and how they gleamed a dusky orange in the sunlight. When his eyes met hers, for the first time ever, she felt as though she truly saw the golden orbs dance, their feral spirit finally unleashed. His screech sent shivers down her spine that no physical touch had ever pulled from her. And as he bored into her with those pools of molten sunlight, she felt his words in the depths of her being.

"Let's go."

Ainyi shakily stood again, stumbling her way towards the Eagle. "The Aerie - that, that was why it was yours?" she stuttered to him, in disbelief. The man, previously horrified, was now as dumbstruck as Ainyi was, but dared not approach. "All this time?" She asked as she approached. Her feet caught on a crevice, and she reached out to catch herself on Wingard's massive beak, staring deeper into his massive eyes. She couldn't pull herself away from the intimacy of that moment, couldn't help but lose herself in the sheer intensity of his feathered form - a question with a saddened tone couldn't help but escape her lips.

"...Why didn't you tell me?"

Before an answer could come, there was jostling at the door. Swearing under her breath, Ainyi did her best to mount onto Wingard bareback...but couldn't do so easily. Every time she tried to throw her leg over, her ribcage protested angrily, causing pain spasms. Her crude talon sword lay feet from her, away. Her right arm was still bleeding, and very weak. Her whole body ached; she honestly couldn't take another fight right now. But as the lock on the door rattled, and the old wood of the door strained further, and harder, Ainyi winced, tears in her eyes once again; in pain, in sadness, in confusion. She stood by the Eagle, and prepared herself for the slaughter, as though she was a lost cause.

Until, a hand slipped under her foot. Looking down perplexed, the fearful man was pushing her up, and provided her the extra leverage she needed with the broken rib cage to mount properly. Settling in, she looked at the man with a tear-streaked face tilted to the side in confusion. He merely nodded his head to her, before returning to cowering in the corner.

A kindness for a kindness, she thought to herself, thinking back to Wingard sparing his life a moment ago. As Chiet and Dek burst the door to the Landings open, she dug her arms deep into his neck feathers, burying her face in too with eyes wide shut.

"Take us away, Wingard!" She screamed at him, mentally and physically. "As far away from this slaughter as you can!" Her pendant was pressed against both their flesh, fusing them in the height of unity and in the height of chaos.