Lesson the Second (Isalie)

[Colt]

He could see the change take place before his eyes, in her gaze, in her posture, in the way she looked at the ground and not at him. Then she started scratching her arm, though her breathing remained steady, but then she didn’t stop, and she was still scratching moment after moment until he feared she was harming herself.

Her reaction to the light contact with the blanket was almost explosive, and Shahar even took a small step back at yet another “Sorry!” She cringed, as if expecting him to leap upon her and eat her alive. But then she saw what was in his hands, glancing between he and it with wet eyes holding a blank, uncomprehending expression. She took it after a few moments, but that was all; Hope remained rooted to the spot, eyes downcast, and didn’t move another muscle.

Shahar blinked. She remained still. Almost like a statue, if it wasn’t for the color in her cheeks and hair. Shahar simply regarded her, unsure what to do. For a moment, he had had her; she had surrendered her guard, at least to Dainellas. Then she had misused the hoof-pick, and Dainellas had startled, but the mare didn’t seem seriously hurt. Had it been worse than he thought?

Cautiously, the hunter sidled around the seemingly-catatonic Hope. Dainellas took a few steps back, but Shahar caught up and placed two hands on her neck to show that they were empty. Moments passed, and then he slid his hand down the offended leg, and the mare reluctantly picked it up for him to examine.

He couldn’t see any blood, or really any sign of where it was Hope had stuck the creature. Murmuring nothings to keep the mare easy, he gently ran his fingers over the frog. Dainellas whickered in disapproval, but didn’t pull away; if there was any pain, it had faded and his fingers did not add to it. It wouldn’t do any harm to take her to a more experienced horseperson tomorrow, but it didn’t look like there was any real damage.

And yet, Hope remained motionless.

Shahar let down Dainellas’ hoof and straightened, squaring up properly with the woman.

“Hope.” He kept his voice low, as if speaking to a frightened animal. And as he spoke, he closed the distance between them.

Shahar took great care removing the blanket from her grasp, keeping his hands slow and steady. He placed it over Dainellas’ back, though not very well; he meant to leave it there as a placeholder, to be corrected later. Then he turned back to the woman.

“Hope,” he said again, voice equally low. He crossed the distance between them again, until she was in arm’s reach.

“Hope.” When he uttered her name for the third time, he slowly, very slowly reached for her hands. He didn’t grasp, but carefully let his fingers ghost over the backs of hers, then outwards, around her pinkies, then under until he cupped her hands in his. He closed his grip, but kept it loose; had she wanted to, Hope would find no difficulty at all in freeing herself. He began to draw light circles on the back of her hands, just to keep movement in their contact, but aside from that, he did nothing else.

In all honesty, Shahar wasn't completely sure what he was doing. It was gut instinct driving him, as he had never had to interact with someone like Hope before. She was terrified of him, and he didn't want her to be terrified him. This was all he could think to do; the longer he touched her, the longer he did nothing to harm her, then maybe, just maybe the closer she would come to trusting him, to seeing that she had no need to fear assault or hard words. To her, his presence seemed to be something to endure or escape, something perpetually threatening. Perhaps if he just stood, just held her then she would grow to realize that it wasn't so. Like a wild horse taught to accept the presence of humans, then contact; he had rarely touched her, but here, now, the way he was touching her was not a harmful one. His hands did not strike her, his words did not lash her. His hands around hers, his words now turned to silence, all that was him, it wasn't a danger to her. It just... was.

And so he simply stood there without another word, holding her hands for as long as she would let him.

oocNot sure if I’m taking liberties or not with Shahar taking away the blanket, but if you think so then I’d be more than happy to edit.

[Hope Dawnwhisper]

* Hope * * Words ran rampant through her mind. Words of fear. Words of pain. Words of guilt. “failure…” they all seemed to scream at her, and they were louder than any tone that Shahar could have used with her. They echoed, drowning out the whistle of the wind, the rustle of the leaves on the grass, the breathing of the mare behind her. Giving them voice was the salience of what the voice inside her head was forcing her to hear; they were not foreign words to her – she had heard them spoken to her before. The time that had passed since she had last heard the harsh Myrian accent had not diminished the effect of the words, and they resonated in her mind as though they were being spoken right beside her. In that moment, she ceased to be Hope, the person that Shahar and Khida had only just started to carve and polish out of the crude creation they had first met. She became Isalie once more. She didn’t move, other than to flinch away once again, as the man stepped past her, towards the horse. Her downcast eyes, however, did follow his movements, waiting for him to strike her; the first blow, the one that she was never prepared for, was always the worst. But he did not strike. And she waited. Isalie's heartbeat raced, and she felt the pounding in her head as she held her breath, waiting for his verdict on the horse’s condition as Shahar examined her carefully. The young woman was no expert on horses – Shadow had most likely died from her care, and no doubt her current owner would see that she was unfit to even groom the mare. The idea hurt her. But the supposition that she had lost the trust of Shahar hurt more. He had treated her well, perhaps too well… and he was about to learn the price for giving a slave too much freedom. Perhaps he even wondered why he had paid so much for damaged goods, when many of the other girls sold for less. The hoof was replaced on the ground, and Shahar returned his attention to Isalie. At full height, directly in front of her, the man was a marked amount taller than her, even more so than usual, as the girl shrank inside herself and the physical representation was for her to hunch, trying to make herself as small as possible against his now apparently hulking figure. At this moment they were about a foot apart, but the shadow loomed and even the distance they had felt claustrophobic. “Hope…” she heard the low voice, the words for the first time, and it meant little to her. Her shoulders twitched, though she did not look up or otherwise move. Tanned hands came forward and grasped the blanket. Isalie’s own hands gripped the material a little tighter for a tick before she released it, and it slid from her grasp entirely for Shahar to do as he wished with it. Her hands remained suspended in the air, purposeless… useless… just like her. The physical pain was not going to come down on her – that much she knew now. But the emotional turmoil was enough to leave her motionless, agonizing over what she had done. She heard the word again… “Hope…” and then for a third time, and each time pulled her out of the dark depths of her mind. It was who she was., who he had made her. The hands returned, this time to make contact with her own, much paler, skin. Crystalline eyes follow the movements of dark fingers tracing porcelain skin, until he stopped, but he did not remove the contact. Instead the hands held hers, not tightly, but enough, as if they were holding her in place, grounding her. Hope, Hope, Hope. Ticks pass, and turned into chimes. The moments of nothingness extended, longer and longer, until she finally glanced up, slowly meeting the man’s gentle gaze. “Sorry.” OOCThe ‘Isalie’ thing was an accident but I think it works :3 Sorry for not moving anything forward – it just didn’t seem appropriate, given the previous few posts… you’ll have to carry me for a bit!

[Colt]

She tensed at his contact, but neither accepted it or pulled away. She kept her eyes to the ground, though when he said her name she seemed to stir. Her eyes flickered, and then, with the fleeting speed of a grass-bird, she met his gaze.

“Sorry.”

It was a simple word, but one that held many things. There were few words the two of them shared, but meaning, in this at least, was heavy. Shahar let the word sink, keeping his eyes locked to hers, and nodded slowly.

“I know,” he said. “Forgiven.” He didn’t know if her vocabulary was large enough to encompass those words, but he hoped his nod, his tone, the movements of his fingers on the back of her hands would be enough to convey what it was he was saying.

The moment had become thick, and it drained him as it devoured second after second. He didn’t want to push her, and he didn’t know how far she had been stretched already. Perhaps the yvas could come later, after a break in the lesson; the sun was climbing, after all, and Shahar knew there were still the leftovers of breakfast hanging over the fire. He needed some lull in the emotion that seemed to be running so high, and if he did then surely it wouldn’t hurt for Hope to have the same.

He let one hand drop from hers, then turned and gestured back at the camp.

“Go,” together, resting. “We eat, then return.”

He kept one hand on hers as he started to walk back towards their home, though took care to keep his grip as loose as it had been before. They would both be more at ease with some food in them.

[Hope Dawnwhisper]

* Hope * * The hands continued to caress hers, darker, olive thumbs gently stroking her porcelain skin. It was comforting, soothing... soothing to the point of natural. All the while, the captive Taylani's words echoed in her mind, "After of course. That was the whole reason they have been taking captives. For babies." Since then, she had wondered why Shahar had told her nothing of her purpose here, she had wondered why the Drykas had spent hours teaching her how to care for horses, and how to live here. But, more to the point, Shahar had never once touched her. This was the first time he had reached out to her like this, and Hope's mind jumped immediately to the carnal sense, was this Shahar's hint to her that he wanted to take her? The man already owned her, and this was the final step he needed to finally claim her entirely. The skinny, malnourished creature that had originally arrived in Endrykas had, under Shahar's care, put on weight. Maybe now he thought that she was fit and healthy enough to carry a child. He spoke again; she didn't know what words they were, or what they meant, but the continued soft tone that he used allowed her to continue believing that she wasn't in trouble. Did he want more, though? He let her go, just one hand; the contact was still there, though it wasn't as much of a comfort now... it was more of a reminder. Her eyes followed the movements of his now free hand, as it gestured over towards the encampment they had come from. Dumbly, she nodded and followed after him, allowing her hand to rest limply in his... and a shiver ran through her body. Long, dead grass ran along her legs as they walked, and the crisp wind ran through her hair - the winter down south wasn't as cold as the winds in Syliras, but it was noticeable, and she hoped that Shahar thought nothing more of the ripple that ran through her body.“Food good...” she murmured in response to Shahar's utterance. Having not eaten this morning, it finally dawned on the young woman that she was hungry. “Is good.” They walked for longer in silence, and Hope had drawn enough conclusions about the situation to know what she had to do. She sped up her step, so that she was walking beside the Drykas. After a moment's hesitation, here own thumb begins to move, tracing along the back of his hand. It was a light touch, barely noticeable, but it was there, and it was her sign that she knew what was coming, and she was okay with it.

[Colt]

She followed him, though slowly at first.

“Food good. Is good.”

Shahar couldn’t help a subconscious well-done, proud at the self-correction of her statement. When Hope shivered he glanced at her, wondering if she was cold and if perhaps stirring up the fire was in order, but it didn’t appear to be any more than a single tremor. He’d let it be for now, though maybe they could sit a bit closer to the embers for their meal, and if she appeared to get colder then he’d give her an extra layer before they moved on.

Another silence settled between them, though this one seemed a bit less tense than its predecessor. She didn’t bear any of her early lethargy, and—wait, now she was speeding up, bringing herself alongside him, shoulder to shoulder. Shahar fought to keep his features cool as he gave her a sidelong glance. There was a strange expression on her face, one that he couldn’t recognize, but it wasn’t complete apathy. And then she was moving her thumb, tracing feather-light patterns on the back of his hand, and he looked away so she couldn’t see the pleased flash of surprise. She was responding! She was really responding!

His step was just a bit bouncier when they reached the encampment, and Shahar gave Hope’s hand a quick, gentle squeeze before letting it go to tend to the fire. He couldn't push her anymore, not now that she seemed to be shedding the shell of emptiness she had had for so long. For the first time, she seemed to be truly comfortable, and he needed to her to accept that comfort as the norm, not the exception. He needed to encourage it once she got used to the idea that it was not a threatening state to be in.

Shahar squatted by the hearth and stirred the banked coals, adding some dry grass to coax a flame into existence. Then some sticks, followed by a small branch, and then there was just enough of a fire to heat the pot hanging above it. A few minutes and the stew would be hot again.

There wasn’t any immediate need to get bowls, at least not yet, and so Shahar simply sat down where he was in reach of the fire. It was a bit warmer here, too, and so he gestured back for Hope to come and sit beside him. Warmer, pleasant, more comfortable.

[Hope Dawnwhisper]

* Hope * * When the taller glanced over, her eyes too flickered over to meet his eyes. The smile that had begun to play at the corners of her lips grew ever so slightly, and the warmth spread from her lips into her previously apathetic, pale eyes. It was an expression bred for a single purpose – she had seen many other girls smile in a similar manner, and had long since trained her facial features to offer the same welcoming qualities. The beauty of the look was that it was effortless for a woman to fake; it wasn’t a glance that was full of emotion, nor was it void of it. It was just… there… and it invited a man in. Hope was not even sure if she was feigning the glance – maybe, for the first time, she wanted to. Many men had called her beautiful, many men had wanted her, and had taken her, as was their right. Even Matthew, the whore, who had known her, when she was still known as Isalie, and had seen her at her weakest, at her most vulnerable, who had seen her at her worst, even he said that she was beautiful. Her experiences in life had given her a painfully low threshold for compliments, but she had learnt to accept the ones from people she knew had no reason to lie… and maybe there was some truth in it; she knew that she wasn’t unattractive, at least. Her lips were closed, but the crooked smile remained in place as she turned away from him and continued to walk. The knowledge that he had bought her for this purpose was a confidence boost, to say the least. It never occurred to Hope that the man’s motives had nothing to do with the carnal nature of humans. With the man’s final squeeze of her and, she was assured in his motives for having them return to the Pavilion, though she was surprised when he didn’t immediately lead her inside of the larger tent. Possibly because she was unclean and her status banned her from it… Standing where he had left her, she watched in silence as he places some coals onto the dwindling fire and stoked it, rekindling it, with a little dried grass. Hope had always maintained a healthy fear of the hot flames, knowing how they could tear even the strongest homes down, if given enough fuel… but she couldn’t help but find herself mesmerized by the autumnal flickers of colours, as the wind pushed the malleable flames this way and that. Though more striking at night, Hope couldn’t help but recognize their brilliance during the day too. And there she stood, watching the man as he watched the flames, and they both listened to the crackle at the base of the fire, the crackle that allowed the pair of them to know that no one else was near to disturb them, just as there were no sounds to disrupt the ambiance of the crackling fire, save the wind. Shahar motioned for her to join him, and she approached, light footsteps preparing her for the delicacy that she knew appealed to men. She did not sit down beside him, however. Instead, she approached him from behind, raising her right hand to run lightly across his shoulder blades. Then, with one hand on each shoulder, she rested her long fingers along his shoulders, with her thumbs positioned on his back, and angled in towards his spine. Gently, yet firmly, she puts pressure into her thumbs as she rubs them in slow circles. Knowing Shahar couldn’t see her, she bit her lip – generally she tried not to do this in front of men she wanted to please but he couldn’t see her and she had never performed a massage before. Trying to remember what others had done, her thumbs began to create larger circles, and then smaller again, as they moved around the man’s back, and all the while she continued to apply pressure.

[Colt]

There was a smile on her face, and that fact alone was enough to limit Shahar’s analysis of such a smile; all he could comprehend was that her expression was one of positivity, and that was a milestone he hadn’t dared to dream of reaching so soon. He gave a small smile of his own in return as she neared, then… circled behind him?

Shahar frowned in puzzlement, though it was probably out of Hope’s line of sight. He didn’t turn to follow her movement lest it frighten her off, so he relied on his ears to remain aware of her path. Her steps were much lighter than usual, and Shahar couldn’t stop himself from subtly tensing up when she took up a position behind him.

He didn’t tense up any more when she touched him, but neither did he relax immediately. After a moment, he realized with amusement that it was foolish for him to be uncomfortable; they had been in the exact same situation a few minutes ago, roles reversed. She had eased for him, so it was only fair for him to ease for her.

He let his shoulders drop and the tension fade, and when her thumbs began to move he remained calm. It was alright, even pleasant if he let it be; her fingers moved over the muscles of his upper back, not really hard enough to hurt but not light enough to just be fingers moving over his skin. He wasn’t quite sure why she was making such contact, since any real closeness was lost on the fact that they couldn’t properly see each other, but he wasn’t going to be picky. She was obviously overcoming a barrier, and it was a very good sign that she was comfortable enough to seek out physical contact of her own. And so Shahar simply sat, thank you in his posture, and let her motions run their course.

[Hope Dawnwhisper]

* Hope * * For a period which lasted for no more than a couple of ticks, Hope considered stopping in her bold actions; Shahar’s tensed up body and posture suggested that he did not want his charge – his property touching him un such a manner… perhaps such close endeavours were reserved entirely for the bondmate, Khida. But the man relaxed, and she realized that it was acceptable for her to be offering a massage, and she relaxed herself, as she pushed herself through the calming motions against his toned body. Soon the pair were moving in rhythm with each other, as if to a beat that only they could hear: the motions of Hope’s thumbs were forcing her to sway, in order to exert more pressure on Shahar’s shoulder blades, and the pressure was guiding the Drykas into a slow rocking motion. Back, forth, back, forth. They were in synchronization as Hope continued to kneed firmly at the muscles with her thumbs, the circles growing and shrinking still. Back, forth, back, forth. She had stopped nibbling on her lower lip, and the smile had returned to grace her features, though she closed her eyes as she finally stopped the massage, letting her fingers run down the length of his back before they dropped gently to her sides. A tick passed, and then a few more, and she stood in silence behind the Drykas, as she breathed deeply, calmly, allowing herself a few moments to prepare herself for what she had to do next. It confused her, to say the least, that Shahar was allowing her to lead the way in this; she was used to the man grabbing her and doing what he pleased. Never once had she had the choice of action, or speed. It was different, and she honestly wasn’t sure that she liked it. She didn’t like the pressure that having all of the control left on her, like he was currently testing her, so see whether she was any good, to see if she had the initiative to do the right thing, to do the thing that pleased him – as if he had given her any indication of what he might like, she thought with derision. Her eyes fluttered open eventually, and the warmth of her well-practiced smile spread to her pale blue gaze: she was ready. Careful to control her body to make it as appealing as possible to her one-man audience, she danced around the edge of the log that her owner was sitting on, careful not to get too close to the fire. Though the expression was somewhat rehearsed and forced, there was an element of honesty to it; she was genuinely glad to be his, nay, she was grateful to be his. And that was what today, right now, was all about, showing how grateful she was to him for buying her, and for showing that she could do the task he bought her for. Gracefully, she lowered herself to the ground, so that she was kneeling in front of him. Behind her, the fire hissed in protest as some of the dried, sandy earth flies into the base of the flames at the movement of her feet, but she ignored it, knowing she wasn’t close enough to be burnt. Her hands were resting on each of Shahar’s knees, as they had helped support her as she had lowered herself to the ground. Her gaze, which had so far been on Shahar’s own since rounding into his line of sight, flickered away, down his torso and further, and then back up. Her lips parted slightly, and she bit her lip again, though this time she was smiling, a sensual curiosity. Fingers first, she slowly pushed her hands down the man’s thighs, tracing the patterns that wear and tear had created on his clothing. As they reached the end, where his torso meets his legs, she pushed herself forward slightly, allowing for more movement and use of her arms, and her fingers ran along his toned stomach until they met in the middle, before drifting down at a tantalizing pace, towards his trousers, which she began to loosen, in order to tease her prize out. Her mind was blank as she worked - it was almost second nature what she was doing, even if it had been so long since she had last had to perform such tasks. She knew now, that if she had remained in Syliras, she probably wouldn't have been able to follow Matthew into his chosen career; she didn't really have it in her to offer herself up to completely to the sheer amount of people she would be required to. Despite this, kneeling in front of Shahar right now, with no one else around, no one to disturb them, she felt a curiously visceral sensation slowly building up from inside her, one which she had always tried to quench before, thinking, in the past, that the purely primitive responsiveness had been betraying her to the men who took what they wanted without bothering to question to the damage they were inflicting on a girl just past puberty. A young woman now, Hope decided to allow herself the chance to explore her own carnal experiences, as well as his, this time. OOCGah, you decide whether we need more or if Shahar will stop it here xD I share Hope's sentiments - I hate being in control!

[Colt]

It was a curious sensation, the swaying motion that sprung up between them. He allowed himself to be guided by her hands as they meandered over his shoulders and back, touching and tracing patterns and ever so slightly moving him this way and that. The rhythm was soothing, and when Hope stopped Shahar was disappointed. Still, he didn’t give his disappointment voice; it seemed she had done what she intended to do, and though the purpose was still very unclear, Shahar was glad it had happened. It meant that Hope was waking up, after all this time in her living slumber.

The two of them remained as they were, Hope standing and Shahar sitting. Was there something else she intended to do? Did she want him to respond? Why was she still behind him?

He didn’t have the opportunity to put action to his questions, as Hope was already moving to come full circle between the fire and where he sat. Shahar re-emphasized thank you.

Hope had an altogether strange look on her face when she came into his view. It was… happy? Pleased? No, it wasn’t really either of them. It was all sorts of things, and it was also something that Shahar had never seen before. He tilted his head slightly and regarded her curiously. It didn’t look bad, at least…

He blinked when Hope put a hand on each knee and knelt before him. He was confused, and he didn’t know why, and he didn’t know what to do about it, but was afraid of moving her hands away because he didn’t know what she was doing. The rights words did not come to him, so he couldn’t come anywhere close to voicing his thoughts beneath her icy blue stare. She was smiling, but her eyes were different from the smile, especially when they slid away from his, down his neck, down his body, then back up.

Shahar’s wondering was cut suddenly short when her grip on his knees tightened. His breath hitched as they glided upwards, tracing patterns up his thighs, curving inwards and sending a chill through his veins. What was she doing? This was all wrong!

When her hands reached their destination, it lanced him to the core. His vision clouded, his stomach twisted, the sound of the wind and grass fell away beneath the roar of blood through his ears and a foul, long-forgotten stench filled his nose with the ghost of a memory. Pain, noise, screeched laughter from fur matted with foreign blood and two fiery yellow eyes looming from utter darkness. He was trapped. Trapped! He couldn't see the sky or feel the wind around him, nothing but pain and her and the walls closing in around him, and there was a drop he refused to take because he was too scared. A murmur, a whisper, a word of vileness that crawled under his flesh like sugared poison, and he was trapped! He couldn't breathe! He couldn't breathe! He couldn’t breathe anything but the stench, couldn’t see anything but the eyes, and he when he was too terrified to scream all he could to was remain there, suddenly coiled and tense beneath Hope's fingers once more and shriek silently to the only one who could hear him.

Khida.

[Khida]

The sun rode high in the sky, casting warmth down into the brisk air, pleasant on Khida's hair and skin. Unfortunately, it did essentially nothing to heat the earth under her feet, a fact she had become more aware of since resuming the use of footwear. She wore none now, having come to earth and shifted on a whim, the better to study a thin break in the grasses. From above, the ribbon of bent stalks had suggested a trail, a disruption in the Sea worn by habitual use. On foot, with merely human vision, the Kelvic was less sure of the trace; what had seemed plain from the sky, somehow now faded into the endless Sea. Strange how a simple change of perspective made the world around seem different, though it was all actually the same. Khida walked the trail, one small step at a time, bent over to study the ground. There would be tracks somewhere, or scat left by the trail's maker; something which would tell her what used this path. Whether it was something she could trap -- a hare, a weasel, a fox -- or something larger that the hunter might take interest in, it surely left traces somewhere around... There! A print like two drops, the pointed tops angled together, two little dots trailing behind the rounded bases. Deer, she thought, by the size; something he could hunt, with his javelins. Straightening back up, Khida paused to survey the land again from a human-level view -- -- then dropped to the ground under a wave of sudden, overwhelming panic, instinct folding her human shape into as small a huddle as it could manage, muscles frozen motionless while her senses strained outwards to their limits. Danger, a bad thing, hide until it goes away -- but part of her mind clawed at the fog of fear, the shrill scream of terror. Where was the shadow in the sky, the storm sweeping down from the horizon, the shaking of the earth? Where was the danger to cause this reaction? It... didn't... belong... ...it... wasn't... hers. Shahar. Framed differently, the same panic jolted Khida into motion; into the garb of blue-gray feathers and pointed wings, climbing the dome of the sky before any full thought even took shape. Her bondmate's fear summoned the Kelvic more surely than any calling of name ever could; she thought only of going, distance and time both passing entirely beneath her notice. So too with direction; the falcon flew along the line of their bond, only noticing that it led towards their encampment when the tents themselves came into sight. She came prepared for a fight, for danger and destruction and death such as the Zith had previously wrought. Surprise, then, fleeting but nearly stronger than the fear resonating down the bond -- for the camp was intact, even undisturbed. Falcon's sight found no strangers, no predators, whether two-legged or four-legged or winged... not in any nook or cranny or shadow she could perceive. Only two familiar shapes beside the fire, together, touching. Did Hope, of all people... but no, an arc about the camp showed the girl from all angles, and she bore no weapon. Her posture didn't even suggest threat to the falcon's eyes. Where was the danger? She pushed presence at her bondmate, presence, confusion, reassurance, question, a querying whistle reflecting her lack of understanding. Where was the threat that inspired such fear? Where was the thing she could fight away? Though Khida saw no hazard, she remained in the air, circling, seeking the danger she could not find but took on faith must be present.