PM to join [The Quay] No Turning Back (Fallon and Zandelia)

[Kaie]

2nd of Winter, 514 AV
2nd Bell


A wintry breeze erupted through the condemned streets of Sunberth, a breath of Morwen that penetrated the flesh and settled deep within the bones. Flakes of white blew from rickety rooftops and whirl-winded through the air. Besides the icy purr of wind there was little to be found out in the dark. Urchins, dealers, and thugs had vanished back indoors to escape the first signs that confirmed winter's arrival. Only some drunks stumbled out into the night, numb and indifferent to the cold in their state of mind. The disheveled shivered in vain in the alleys, letting the cold eat them away chime by chime. All was relatively quiet and calm, the swirling snow upon the cobbles almost mesmerizingly peaceful. That's when a door was thrown open, and the rattled body of a woman stumbled into the street.

The muscle spasms that occurred in the presence of Morwen's chill might've shocked the woman, had her mind not been so far gone. Her feet were numb in her boots but still they took clumsy steps forward in no particular direction. Amber eyes were wild, head jerking around as the woman tried to find her bearings and a sense of her position. Yet her head could not comprehend reality. All was a dream. A terrible, near-paralyzing nightmare. There was no true inner voice that spoke to her, that directed her what to do next. She was a vacant vessel. Like an animal working off some kind of unconscious instinct, feet moved forward though the mind was ignorant of their intentions. Step by step she navigated poorly through the cold streets, the snow crunching beneath her uncertain heels. All the while her hands were out in front of her, elbows stuck against her sides, and palms turned toward her for her to stare at them in bewilderment.

Though she dressed in naught but her leather vest and loincloth, it wasn't the cold that stopped her movements after some time. It was as if she had seized up and become a stone. The Myrian stood before the large wooden doors she vaguely recognized as familiar, but she could not knock. She could not move. Her eyes had become stuck to the gruesome sight of her palms, which had become slick and thick with blood. Red roved the valley lines of her hands and dribbled in excess down her wrists and forearms. Even the front of her vest was soaked in crimson. Lips moved silently, a chanting or a mumbling that was never voiced to the world but continued perpetually.

Rather than a knock, she turned her back to the door and allowed the brunt of her body to fall against its solid frame. Then she slid down its expanse until she reached the ground. Sitting there in the streets she felt the wind whipping through her brown curls and bringing the snow with it. She felt nothing. All she could do was stare down at her shaking hands, watching the blood continue dripping along her flesh. Yet how could she be so debilitated when the blood wasn't even her own? The quiet mumbling continued, echoing as the only thought in her head to accompany the images that so haunted her.

Goddess forgive me. Goddess forgive me.

And as she sat there outside The Quay, part of her prayed the darkness of Akajia would simply swallow her whole.

[Fallon]

Fallon was asleep, though far from deeply. Her mind was enjoying the moment of simple lulling, the warmth and wools that shielded her form against the world. The rest of her had otherwise curled up, bare skin tickled by furs and the soft flesh of her partner. Clothing of course, hung in its designated location, the back of the chair and the boots discarded next to the fire - absorbing the warmth of hot ash and burning embers. It was the kukri however that always remained in immediate reach, ready almost to be drawn no matter the odds. And that was how Fallon remained, for now at least.

It was downstairs however, that Orvin was snuffling. Something had awoken him, bringing his jowls up from his paws to stop and listen. Even in the darkness, his white fur stood out - clear and noticeable. His ears twitched, those eyes giving a blink into the darkness, his head cocking to one side almost curious. It was the lowest of whines that escaped, uncertain, questioning, and checking within himself that all was well. Of course, the animal's mind believed this otherwise and it was gradually he went up into a stand and gave a louder, more noticeable sniff. He could smell the blood before registering the person - drifting on the winds and seeping in through the cracks, barely above the smell of smoke, wood and sea salt. The gentlest of clicks escaped, a scraping of paws as he nudged open the common room doors and slunk into the entrance room. It was his tail that gave a swish, the whine growing louder and more definite as he eyed the door with suspicion. And from the whine came the growl, warning whatever may have been hovering behind that this was his territory. The thump against the surface was what inevitably set him off.

Barking was what Fallon shot awake to. Her sluggish mind spurred into action, flinching as she thought at first they were under attack - the hand went to the kukri, eyes blinking within the low light for the intruder and danger to show themselves. Only to meet nothing caused her to calm only a fraction, but the barking of Orvin remained regardless. Her head gave a turn to the form of Zandelia, and then to the door and the relentless noise that consumed him. It was for the best to see what was wrong, and knowing his general way it was probably something trivial. Probably. She sighed, and pinched her brow with her good fingers, "I'll go see what the fuss is about. I'll be back in a moment sunshine."

Slipping out, she moved, fingers taking up clothes to throw on at least the minimal layering - shirt and trousers - before slipping on the boots. The kukri was taken as a just in case. Door being nudged open, she worked her way through the house pausing briefly to light one of the lanterns and then step through the shadows to the wolf. Fallon released a hiss, "Orvin! Orvin down! Quite! Stop scrapping at the door!" He still would not shut up, padding round to her with his ears growing flat as he padded around her - the warning growl escaping from his throat. Fallon patted him on the head, "Nothing there, Orvin. No? Not going to believe me?" She was answered by a snort, "Fine, fine. Have it your way." She put the lantern down on one of the benches, a stomp over as she went to the door. The lock was lifted, the hand turning the handle, "Look, not- Oh." Orvin gave her the look, "Right. Well. Good boy."

She barely managed to mumble that as she took the shape in, cold, blooded, she felt the air escape her as she flickered about it and into those hollow eyes. Throat constricted, she reached and placed a hand down to touch her, paused and stuttering for a moment as to what was going on before the present kicked back. She exhaled, "Good gods..."

It was no longer the face of the Scars that pushed her, it was the simple fact that someone she knew looked in trouble. Her hands reached down and grabbed, pulling and dragging the form in, legs straining as she reached her head back and shouted into the house without thought, "Zandelia! Get down here! NOW!" and turned to softer tones to the Myrian, "Got you Kaie, it's alright. Got you. Come on. Get you inside." Struggling or not she continued to pull, foot kicking the door shut as she brought the other inside to the warmth, "Come on, going to get you up. Clean you up. Going to sort things. Alright? Come on Kaie. Come on..." Her focus now was only getting her to the common room and then getting a stiff drink - else it was to be a long night.

[Zandelia]

Dreams, pleasant for the first time in a long while, rippled around her as she lay next to Fallon. It was a cold winter already, early perhaps she guessed as she felt the other woman shifting. Persistent knocking and noise, barking and howling intruding upon the wondrous cocoon of both dream and reality. She had missed this whilst it had been gone, the knowledge that someone she love was there. Intimacy of the non-impulsive kind. For the most part, on most days. The security of knowledge that she wasn't alone that allowed her to rest deeply and awaken refreshed. There was a small nod and a murmur as Fallon extricated herself, a roll as her face planted itself firmly into where the body had been before. The gently probing of fingers to see where it had gone, the words reassuring so that she slipped back into restful sleep.

Probably nothing. Wind. That hound is touchy. Nothing....nothing.... her mind told her as she wriggled to the very edge of the bed and slipped of once more, arm hanging over the side and swinging as a lazy pendulum might.

Then the shouting began. Startled she jerked up, legs lifting and arm finding no purchase for balance as she teetered forwards, paused, then the inevitable drop forwards to crash to the floor wrapped in the blankets. The chill of the boards were enough to shiver her awake instantly though she fancied it was the slapping of her head into the wood that had finally put paid to any notion of more rest. She muttered darkly as she rubbed her head and thrashed the covers of of herself. No weapons, too far away and too slow in response. Speed was the requirement as she pushed herself up and the door clashed to wall as she burst into the hallway, rebounded off of the wall herself and still half-asleep swept down the stair a few at a time in a rhythmic thudding. She came into the main living area, naked and ready to try and fight with fist and foot. Only then, in a preposterously ill-formed defensive stance, did she take in the scene.

“Oh for the love of, you just shouted my name. I thought you were under attack and...what are you staring at exactly? What is it? Who've you got? Thief? I;ll teach them not to try and take from me when I'm sleeping an-”

“Ah,” she finished, anger ebbing quickly as she saw the state of Kaie, stepped closer and too her pulse, inexpertly but enough to know it was steady and fine “nothing wrong. Physically at least. Come on then Myrian, get you warm” she pulled an arm around her shoulders and helped Fallon get her to a decent chair where she could be comfortable at least.

“I'll....go get dressed. This looks like it'll take a while,” she gave the barbarian a worried glance, she reminded her of how Fallon had been when in that state of mental instability, as if she was not fully herself, “I think it best we lock the door and I;ll get the weapons. She's been in blood and I don;t want to get caught with my pants down...well...again” she stated as she made her way upstairs.

She didn't stand on pretence, just slipped on a baggy shirt and a pair of trousers. Boots followed quickly before she grabbed her tonfa, Fallon's tulwar and a couple of daggers. Slipping downstairs then she dragged a blanket with her and seeing Kaie in the chair threw it over her. It was awkward, unknown in the extreme she noted as she squatted beneath the woman;s gaze and shifted her hand before the eyes. There was little response, some but not much. She frowned at Fallon who was clearly ferreting around for something fiery to rouse her back to reality. What was more disturbing was seeing her in this condition.

She was always strong, mentally and physically. She had handed a woman to a mob for being accused of being a mage and nothing like this... she thought to herself with some concern upon her face.

“What happened? Kaie? What happened to you?” she asked softly, wondering if it would even get a response.

“Well...seeing as she knows me now Fallon pour me one would you? If I'm going to be awake at this time in the morning I'm going to be drinking,” she stated as she pulled two more chairs across to face Kaie's and set about getting the fire going.

Embers were still there from the evening past, glowing brightly with little time passed. It was a simple matter to heap upon them some dry kindling, smaller sticks of wood and more until the flames flickered to life through breath. She took her time with it, Kaie would need warmth. She looked to be in shock. She placed a decent sized log on towards the end and watched intently as the bark was licked and began to spit. A good enough sign that she pushed herself upwards and slipped into a chair.

“The blood can't be hers, too much. She'd be dead already. Get anything out of her?” she asked Fallon with a sense of resignation looming upon her.

[Kaie]

Barking. It was the same sound behind her head for a chime or two, muffled somewhat by the door between herself and the animal. There was something familiar about it but different all the same. For a brief moment the Myrian's troubled mind brought up the image of the maddened Ravokian wolves that had hassled her some time ago, but even then it was only a fleeting thought. Dog, was all her mind cared to conclude before it slipped away to nothingness once more, letting her grow as numb as her body out in the cold. Her eyes traveled out to stare into the night-consumed streets. They rested there as if closely watching something, or perhaps nothing at all. But slowly, slowly as the flurries that fell from the clouds high above, she was slipping somewhere down between the unconscious and reality. The feeling or rather lack thereof brought her something like content...until the door beside her swung open and the candlelight inside polluted her world.

The Myrian's head spun and she was back just like that, eyes wide and staring at the open door. She jerked her chilled hand back from what illumination it offered the outside world. Then came the shouting, the calling for a name she did not know followed by reassuring murmurs that included her name. After she vaguely felt the pressure of another's touch, a delayed jerking away followed though she remained rooted in her resting place. Familiar voices surrounded her, and it wasn't until she felt hands on her flesh that whatever tranquility she'd managed vanquished like a hot rage. Pupils dilated in the presence of adrenal action, bloodied hands balling into tight fists when they lifted her from the earth.

"No! No, no, no!" Was what she managed to shout at them in the wrong tongue, feet struggling to rescue her from the light she was being forced into. The panicked reaction worsened the closer they pressed on, a hallucination coming to fruition. It's Blind Rock. I can see the fire. I can see the fire! No, no, you can't! Though she could feel strength feeding to her fists there was something in the presence of her captors that she recognized. "I'm a Myrian! You can't! I'm a Myrian!" Yet when they'd forced her through the door there was no jungle to greet her. No clansmen in ferocious, ominous masks to lead her bloody through the gauntlet. No hungry fire or rock to condemn her upon for torture for her crimes. Even in the dim candlelight she could see it was nothing more than a simple room with common furniture. The struggling was abandoned and her panic relented soon after she was placed in the chair.

Kaie was back to that unnerving peacefulness that came with vacancy. Briefly her amber hues scanned the body of the white wolf, connecting him to the previous barking, but then the interest was lost there as well. The way in which her eyes followed and stared at those who approached her was mechanical. Only a minor flinch was given when the blanket fell upon her. The voices were coming again from those faces she knew, but with their dialogue came the crease of the Myrian's brow. Zandelia. Fallon. I do not know these names. To Zandelia's questioning there was only the blinking of the woman's eyes at her. Yet when the one-eyed woman had disappeared to start the fire, Kaie internalized the question and the flashes began again. Knife. Blood. Tsu'kai.

She felt the slick feeling of the liquid between her fingers and unballed her fists. Arms resting upon those of the chair, her palms turned upward for her inspection. Red. Blood. That panic returned again as she stared down at the mess of her own making, noticing the trails of crimson up and down her arms as if she'd forgotten they were there. The Myrian looked down at her vest in distressed bewilderment to find it too was coated in the dreaded red. A brief what murmured on her lips before her attention was directed back to her bloodied hands. Palms scrubbed at one another, but the blood only smeared upon her flesh like too much paint upon a canvas. It was a terrified fixation that might've budded into something far more concerning than horrified silence, had it not been for the warmth of the newborn fire.

Having been so utterly numb to the world, the cold's assault had been dutifully ignored. That is until the fire brought on a violent shiver that rocked the poorly clothed foreigner. How was it she could've braved such weather and remain so ignorant to its effects until now? The crackling of the flames and the blanket was almost comforting. The Myrian heard the voices again but it was the one in her head that seized her attention. They'd been asking you questions. You should answer with at least something, came the advice of the long-forgotten tone of reason she'd been so accustomed to.


"No," Kaie's voice finally replied to Zandelia's pondering, understanding the necessity of the Common tongue this time. Attention was divided between forming the right words and paying no mind to the smell of blood that was upon her. "It's not mine." She swallowed hard in her efforts to maintain a steadier gaze, and one that would not wander to the source of her hysteria again. The Myrian looked to Fallon and gestured with her chin toward the alcohol. "Don't have a third glass do you?" She brought her eyes back toward her soiled hands, which she'd absently used to brush a stray curl from her face. The sensation of a line of smeared blood near her temple had enough strength to nearly push her over the edge. She bit her lip and forced her gaze away.

[Fallon]

Zandelia came of course, in all her grace and glory without a thought in the world to whom exactly could be awake within the building. It caused her lips to purse, her hand shakily coming across and smothering the Myrian's gaze for a brief moment - before she cleared her throat and ensured their guest was comfortable. It was after that the pair went about their work within the low light, and largely left her to come to terms with what was going on. Whilst she had registered the objections - least that was what she thought they were - she largely ignored them, falling into a focused silence against the struggling. Surprisingly harder than she first realised, the other was clearly capable of flailing her limbs.

So, leaving the other as she rummaged about, the flickering of flames coming to life within the fire as she went on a hunt for alcohol. Orvin was behind, a low pant and a swish of a tail as he followed calmly out of the common room and around the house. Rummaging about she managed to succeed in locating some bitter spirit and the wood tumblers with it from her office desk, and quickly made a return to the now dressed Zandelia and the still dazed Kaie. It was when her true name was spoken however, that Fallon turned her head to her partner. Her lips pursed into a pout, the head tilting to one side and the lowest of whines escaping from her cords. A mimicry of the action Orvin gave, before he padded away to the Myrian to give her a long baleful look and then promptly collapsed to the ground next to her. His work was done as far as he was concerned.

Fallon only gave a flicker of attention to the blood then, taking it in and then down to the smeared condition of her shirt - it did not bother her, she had plenty of blood upon her clothing before. Uncorking, the loud satisfying pop echoing around the room, she promptly poured the strong liquid into the cups and passed them out, before placing the bottle itself before the fire - letting it absorb the warmth and loose its sharp chill. Taking the tulwar she gave it a prop up next to the chair she had chosen for herself - a sturdy wood construct in comparison to the comfier ones that were dotted about. And all the while she simply fell into listening, continuing her pottering about the room to the sound of scrubbing and voices.

There was another dip out, this time into the bathroom and to their cold water source - it was there that she threw a large cloth over her shoulders and filled one of the metal bowls up with the liquid. Soap pocketed she returned and hung the water above the fire to allow it to warm. It was then, finally that she spoke, "We'll clean you up properly in a moment Kaie. Come on, drink up now."

Easing into the chair, she watched the flames flicker and the shadows dance across the walls. For the moment the room was calm, and so Fallon would work to keep it that way - careful social tact and understanding of the situations. The woman appeared blooded and in obvious shock, a fight and a detrimental one to her psyche at that. The tumbler was raised to her lips, her hand pausing as she peered over it. So it was another's, or multiple others, she could not decide - regardless it was a lot. Her eyes gave a narrow, flickering to what she saw of the woman and checking for any injuries that could have been her own. Fallon slowly spoke up, an attempt to put humour into the air, "So, keeping us on our toes eh? Could have told me you were planning to do a surprise midnight raid on us. Alas, think you won on that one. Cheers," there was the small raise of her drink before taking a sip, "How long you been out there?" A pause, her eyes gave a flicker to Zandelia. Her questioned turned more direct then, "When did this happen?"

[Zandelia]

“She returns to us,” she grinned as she looked at the Myrian, “welcome back. Had us worried there you know. After you're cleaned up we have to have a talk about walking the streets in winter with barely anything on. I'd hate having to clean up the mess of those soliciting you” she stated cheerily, dry humour her way of dealing with stress at these times.

She set took the cloth from Fallon's shoulder along with the glass of spirits and began to gently wipe the gore off of the woman. Clearly just roused from some form of catatonic state the sooner she didn't have to feel it on her or look at it the better for her mind. She knew that well enough from her own experiences, wondering if the Myrian would feel like bathing twice a day for the next season until satisfied it was finally washed away. Perhaps, perhaps not, the woman was more hardy in some respects she knew. Mind of a warrior, soul of a fighter one could say, she could probably deal with blood easier then most. Which begged the obvious question.

Why did this blood make her like that? What was different about it? she wondered with some worry as she found an old rag and picked up a bucket. As Fallon questioned the woman she retreated briefly the bathroom to get some water. It was cold but it would do its job.

She said nothing as she worked, revealing undamaged if slightly grubby skin as the blood began to give way under the ministration. The questions that were being asked already were enough to get the ball rolling on the truth, it could take some time but it would come out eventually. What mattered was that Kaie saw they were no threat, that they were friends and would protect her from whatever trouble she had managed to find – as always. She knew they both took their commitments seriously, it was one of their strengths in such a lowly city. It took some time but eventually it was all gone, there were no real injuries that she could discern at that moment. She sat upon the floor and threw the cloth to the floor for now.

“There, that's the Kaie we know,” she stated simply, drinking once more from her glass, “always in the wars. I have to say it's one of the more unusual occurrences since we moved in here” she stated as she heaved herself up and sat in the third chair drawn up, back to the fire for warmth.

She simply sat then, looking upon Kaie and wondering what has occurred. She considered using her auristic talent, deciding to leave it for at least a little while until she had fully awoken and was able to concentrate clearly on it. It was dangerous if not controlled properly. Yet she was beginning to think it was the best thing to do, to try and read the unreadable. It could help them but then it felt slightly dishonest. She considered it further as she awaited the story. It was sure to be a good one, from one point of view perhaps.

“Please, tell us what happened. I've not seen you shy from blood before and we've seen some things together. What's got you like this Kaie?” she asked gently, tentatively almost.

She was not entirely sure, either, whether she wanted to know.

[Kaie]

That's right. Come back, came that voice of reason once more, sounding more like a gentle coaxing than the growling sort of motivating tone it tended to take on. A hint of a sarcastic, crooked grin was offered toward Zandelia and Fallon's quips for but a tick. She hadn't the energy for the time being to voice one of her own as she tended to. Not even the ones that arose vaguely in her clouded mind. It was an uphill battle for total control over her instincts and impulses brought on by the recent trauma. Like drowning beneath the undertow of the sea and swimming back upward, she was in that space between drowning and breaking back through to the surface. Another look at her bloodied hands and that metaphoric ocean would surely sweep her back under. Thus, amber hues did not dare settle upon them, but instead on the familiar faces with unfamiliar names moving about her. Bloody memories from the near past continued their haunting.

For the moment the Myrian woman was obedient when it came to doing exactly as she was told, drinking when she was bid, and sitting almost eerily still otherwise. Well, other than the gentle shake of her hands now and then when she lost focus. Next came the dreaded questions. The sort that demanded an answer. She had shown up on their door step whether it was a conscious decision to do so or not. Kaie flinched at first upon the initial touch of the moist rag upon her flesh. She bit her lip and her gaze went upward when the sensation of dripping blood as a byproduct of the cleansing came about. When her friend had finished her work, however, relief was the first thing to flood the savage. She rubbed her fingers together to confirm the absence of the sinful substance. No more blood. Gone. Clean. There was a sigh and a clenching of the tumbler in her hand, followed by a long and hearty drink. The choking, bitter taste seemed to light a familiar flame within the Myrian. Her eyes drifted toward the flames as if unable to maintain eye contact for more than a few ticks.

"Ticks. Bells. I don't know," was all she could muster momentarily as she rotated the glass in her hands with a hardening coming to her sights. Like a young soldier drilled too hard to behave any differently before superiors, despite the brokenness in her arrival, she swallowed hard and continued nonetheless. "I was jumped in the woods. Must've been days ago. I don't know. I thought I had them in a stand-off but I got attacked from another of their party from behind. They brought me out of the woods and through the city with a bag over my head. Even now that I'm out I don't think I could even find the building they took me down into again. The room they put me in was underground. I couldn't tell night from day much other than the switching of the guards outside the door."

Another pause. Another contemplation over the events and her willingness to move forward. A chew of the lip, that shaking in her free hand forced hidden by the gripping of the chair arm. Regurgitating observations was easy. It was Zandelia's prying that brought that tension to her jaw. The willing of memories to abandon her if only so she could explain the madness that was dropped at their feet. Her eyes dared look back down at her cleaned hands. How was it she could still smell the blood that coagulated in the valleys of her palms?

"I'm sure you two can guess I don't do too well in captivity." Kaie took another drink from the liquor. This time her eyes settled on dividing equal time between the two Scars before her. A forced steadiness came to her voice. "I knew the man who paid the mercenaries in the woods that brought me to him. Another Myrian like me. He wouldn't let me go. I kept asking him, but he wouldn't. He just wouldn't let me go..." She breathed something of a scoff to herself, tongue prodding her inner cheek as she shook her head. It was something like disbelief upon her face. Visible shock value spanning her features. "You ever have that line? That one you'd slit your own throat over before you crossed it? I did it all wrong. I took the step. I killed him. He was a Myrian and I killed him. I murdered him." Kaie drained the rest of the glass, pinching her face as she forced herself to swallow the unsavory alcohol. It burned down her esophagus with a vengeance. The finished glass was carefully placed upon the ground. An unusual vulnerability entered her gaze, an agony there that was not easy to conceal.

"I don't remember much else before you two dragged me inside, thanks to this one's barking." She gestured with her near hand toward the white wolf lying upon the floor. Her eyes narrowed curiously at the animal when the image of the Ravokian wolves came back into play, but the thought was dismissed when other information was presented. Then suddenly she flew back to her feet, right hand jerking down to her hip to yank upon the hilt of her gladius. The chair gave a groan and it was forced back with the suddenness of her movement. Heels spun to place her sideways to face both the door and her rescuers, sword braced before her and eyes wild with alarm. "Did you see anyone in streets? Did anyone follow me?!"

[Fallon]

Fallon listened. Eyes looking up from beneath her brow, listening for the faint hums of thought, that momentary pause as one considered their words and position, the way the lips seemed to straighten out and then flicker before at last speaking. Zandelia went about her business, and Fallon did not stop her - nothing would be gained from doing so and it would only cause delay to their tending. Within the mind ticked over, formulating and taking up consideration, ticks drawing out into chimes behind that unflinching face. The only true sign of any acknowledgement was the slow nod in agreement to Zandelia's words. War had come and gone around them, and no doubt it was beginning to bubble up once more - writhing and filling in the senses down upon the focus of blood and death. She pushed the thought aside, for the moment at least, and looked to the present with the inevitable question.

"So an ambush?" Fallon exhaled, the question rhetorical. She leaned back in her chair, the cup being swirled and her eyes staring all so deeply. Her gaze swept to Zandelia then, hardening with consideration, before her eyes looked down to the healing remains of those ripped nails and the raw flesh that stood in their place. Her sights darkened for a moment, the silent meaning wrapped up behind it all, before the gaze slowly turned back. She listened to the rest, the slow nodding along with it, "That is, rather familiar. Disturbingly so."

"That is something we have in common then, we don't do too well either," she paused, listening for those subtle cues within the other's voice, ears twitching for that tell tale sign of worry. Slowly she lifted the bottle once more, uncorking it and begun refilling Kaie's cup, "Drink up now. I hate chains. Though, I figured you know that fact already." She gave a shrug, holding back the wave of suggestion and influence, "I take it you asked nicely a few times?" It was the question back that gave her pause for thought. Her fingers of her right drummed stiffly around the cup, seizing up and throbbing in complaint, before she inevitably transferred it to the left, "I know of that line, yes. I had one, still do to a degree. But, I was forced to cross it, in response..." Her eyes glazed over for a moment, scars twitching angrily, her brow creasing before at last she shook the memory away, "You are not here to hear about me. But, I suppose I understand to a degree - though not all of your cultural attachments. Forgive the silly human on that one."

Orvin's head lifted in response to the gesture, head tilting to one side and the subtle lean in - curious to what it was exactly being spoken about. He gave her a snort, and lowered his head down once more. It was that look of vulnerability however that gave Fallon an inhale, deep and filling. She felt the fire within her stomach, the bubbling sensation rising up from her pits as she watched the jaw tense. It was slowly she felt the sensation come, that lingering sense of self and power filling her lungs, the chill of control and the ego - willpower of the mind. Sinking into her throat, she took another sip of her drink, eyes staring and peering out from over the rim. Inhaling in the smell of burning wood, the gut rot upon her breath. The sensation clung to her throat, resting upon her tongue and within those eyes as she drunk the Myrian in. Even as she rose up, animated and controlled by some flash of fear she held the gaze.

"No," she gestured back down to the chair. The voice rippled, the subtle suggestion, the lingering of willpower upon her lips, the clear annunciation as she locked her gaze down with one intention - trust me - "You are safe." Her fingers reached forward, pressing against the flat of the Gladius in response, calm and slow. Her voice box trembled, the eking out of power as it laced her words, "There is no one here but us. Calm yourself, for even if they do come," She lowered her gaze then, a small wince as the residue chill shot back once more, "Do you really think we would just hand you over on their whims?" Fallon shook her head, a sigh escaping. Pinching the bridge of her nose, the draining back as pressure built there. The words this time were more of an instruction, "Sit down."

Fallon waited, leaning back in her chair and letting her head roll backwards. It was a strange sensation that rested within her head, drained and tired, but piercing to the senses. She tried to push through it regardless, and posed a question to the Myrian, "Kaie, what is survival to you? What do you have to do to achieve it? From your perspective."

[Zandelia]

“If there is one thing I have learnt it is that the line tends to get pushed back a bit as life continues. There are some lines though, I believe I know what you mean. Do you believe you have broken your personal honour? There is no honour in letting yourself be killed” she pointed out quietly as she stared into the flames, face lit up amber with the glow as she listened.

The interjection had been small, enough to tease out something that could be useful information, what the line was – that was of utmost importance. Not what she said it was, what it meant deep down within the woman. The two types of honour – personal or on behalf of something else - were different entities usually, in her experience, though they tended to masquerade as the twins others assumed they were. As for herself she was contemplating how this seemed to echo the events of her own life of the past season or so. She had told herself there were lines she would never cross again but they had bene forced upon her. She had felt fear at losing that which now mattered and by her own stupidity. She had been foolish and self-defeating and many other things.

Just like Kaie is now, though perhaps different in context. She is attacking herself for something she had no control over. Not really. We convince ourselves that we do, that we had a decision. Yet the reality is often quite different she told herself as she turned the cup in her hand and the flames danced in her gaze.

She let herself be enveloped by silence, a caring silence that she punctuated with a reassuring smile or two, an affectionate look. Nothing too filled with pressure, nothing forceful, just the knowledge imparted that she was there if she was required. As it was Fallon was always better at talking out what was in another’s mind than she was, at least in a logical way. She feared that logic was not the be all and end all in this dialogue, that it would take more for Kaie to truly accept what had happened and recover fully. Physical recovery was one thing, they could pamper her until she was a fat wench – though she doubted they would ever be allowed to do that – yet the mind’s scarring was always the hardest to shake off. Not to mention the fact that if they both talked at the same time then it would just cause further disorientation in the Myrian warrior – best to go one at a time, try to keep things simple.

“They couldn’t pay us enough to betray our own natures that’s for sure,” she felt compelled to interject at the tone of fear at the possibility of having been followed, “we do not betray our family. We might be savages but we aren’t traitors. And if anyone else was out there Orvin wouldn’t be so calm. You’re fine here” she stated as she sipped the drink and felt the burn as it slipped down into her gut.

“As for captivity…I know more than you think about that. I’d say that breaking your own chains is about the only way to freedom from there. I should know” she sighed, talking almost to herself as the flames continued to dance before her.

She let the conversation continue, lost in her own remembrances, gripping the cup tightly until the tendons stretched and her hand ached. Long night indeed, she usually liked them. She was not so sure she was going to like this one though.

[Kaie]

There were several ticks of irrational deliberation. Amber eyes glared toward the door, skipped over to the windows, another glance back toward her superiors, and then a final flicker at Orvin. She pursed her lips. Fingers tightened and loosened around the hilt of the gladius. The wolf heard me, smelled me. They're right. He would've known by now. A few more tense moments in which the savage was a belligerent, conflicted statue listening to their logic. Finally, air whooshed from her lungs in a single exhale, the sword lowering reluctantly back into its sheath. The Myrian obeyed and found the chair once more. Her right hand ran down her face, eyelids shutting as if by sheer willpower alone she could find her bearings with a singular thought. They'd all known the discomfort of cold metal shackles over their wrists. Yet did they love their masters as she unfortunately had?

"Yes, we do break our own chains. One way. Or another," she murmured in response before taking the cup into her hand again. Eyes flashed open, and the contents of the drink were poured past her lips. The familiar burn was oddly comforting, scorching down her innards in a way that distracted her from other pain. The container was lowered to rest upon her right knee, fingers embracing the curve of it tightly. Her brow furrowed at Fallon. Jaw dropped as if to speak, hung there silently for a moment, then snapped shut. She took another drink from the alcoholic beverage once more before daring to answer.

"I suppose there are two kinds of survival. The one where you're whole, and the one where you're not. So long as your heart beats and you mind works, you're alive. That doesn't mean you're living," Kaie began rather darkly at first, staring out into the flames like there was something to see within the blaze. "To me though? It's learning, adapting to what's being thrown at you. One jungle or another, the rules of nature are the same: kill or be killed. Between me and them, it has to be them every time. You're going to lose...and lose...and lose, but as long as you win when it counts, you survive." The flames continued to crackle, the heat warming her to the point she could truly feel her fingers and toes again. She pulled the edges of the blanket, which she'd thrown back upon the chair when she'd leaped to her feet, back around her the chilled flehs of her shoulders.

"But where I come from...there are rules. Values. We embrace war. We celebrate the shedding of our enemy's blood, and ritually massacre those that trespass on our land to our Goddess Queen. We are loyal, to Her, and to our people. We share Her blood. This is important to us."Her voice grew more strained, muscles more rigid as if struggling not to jump out of her own skin. A quick glance down at her free hand. Fingers rubbed together, palm opened, and when she was sure there was nothing there, she looked at her fellow Scars instead. "Myrians do not kill Myrians. Ever. I've done things, bad things to make enough of a living so one day I might go home. These things I've done to your people. Deyhans. Outsiders. Never my own people. Not until now."

Anger seemed to grip her then, though it was directed not at those who so graciously let her inside the warmth of their home. It was manifested, but restrained with the tightening of her fist and jaw. Alcohol was consumed, a face hardly made as she finished. The right index finger that held the cup extended outward, hand moving to gesture between the two women. "You're right. We all cross lines not meant to be crossed...but now let me ask you two a question. What's survival worth when the only way you can hold onto it is taking your blade, and running the other through?"

She raised a brow at Fallon and Zandelia, a moral challenge posed and perhaps one of loyalty or true affections as well. It wasn't uncommon for women in Taloba to choose one another rather than the opposite sex given their gender superiority. Some time ago she'd begun to pick up on small cues of intimacy between the two. A shot in the dark perhaps, but an important point to make nonetheless. At least now her internal suffering might've been conceivable. "I've seen both of you kill before. You know what it's like. So picture it now. Right in the moment she trusts you most." Kaie sat back in her seat, face like a stone for the sake of concealing dual emotions of shame and anguish.

Just chimes ago she'd known the sensation. The sickening way she felt the blade puncture tawny flesh, the hot blood that pulsed over her hands, and the airless inhale from her long-ago lover when shock seized him at the same time agony did. Then a twist of the traditional Falyndar dagger in the depths of the organ beneath his left pectoral, and it was over. Over and not all at once. And all she'd hung onto all this time she'd been stranded, that undying faith and loyalty to her home, her people, and Myri. Gone. All in one sweeping blow of fatalistic irony.