Closed Marked for Death

[Dravite]

3 Fall, 515 AV
4th Bell, Early Morning
The Sea of Grass
One day’s ride from Endrykas

Dreams, but like none he had ever had before; dark, deadly, and full of hopelessness. His foot twitched, his fingers curled, and a thick layer of sweat painted the horse lord's chest and brow. When he awoke with a gasp, he sat up to find that his right leg was dead and his breathing came in short, shallow breaths. Belkaia stirred and rose from sleep like a spring flower, lifting her head elegantly in search of Syna's light, "what time is it?" She muttered, rubbing the sleep from her eyes to find that it was still pitch black outside the four man tent, "Drav?" She cooed; realising her husband was already awake.

Dravite sat in silence, bringing his heartrate back its natural tempo. Belkaia reached up to brush her hand over the man's back and felt the sweat that had gathered between his shoulder blades, slowly pool and run down the length of his back, "Are you all right?" The woman sat up carefully and pushed the man's dreaded hair back from his face, "do you have a fever?"
"I'm fine," he finally spoke in a whisper, mindful of the others who were still sleeping soundly."
"Bad dreams?" Belkaia inquired and thought she saw the man nod his head in the darkness, "do you need some fresh air?"
He lay back down against the furs and wrapped an arm under Belkaia, "every night since we got on the road I've had these dreams and when I wake up, my leg is numb, or dead, or both," he explained.
"Dreams about the Zith?"
"The one that bit me," he admitted.
Belkaia moved to rub the man's right calf muscle, "do you feel this?"
"Yes," Dravited smiled in the dark.
She pinched each of his toes playfully, "and this?"
The horse lord chuckled half-heartedly, "yes."
Belkaia was still for a moment as she stared across at her husband, "what about..."

The man closed his eyes as he felt Belkaia's hand draw up the length of his leg to the thigh where she turned the tips of her fingers against his flesh and raked them across the sensitive skin just below his hip. The content little sound that left the man's lips assured Belkaia that he did indeed feel that too and as she drew her hand beneath the light summer blanket that covered him, she took the man's length in hand and bowed to arouse his senses with the tip of her tongue.
"It looks like everything still works," she teased.
Dravite couldn't help but smirk, "come here."
She crawled on all fours to get close enough to press her nose to his before straddling him, hitching up her loose nightdress, "why?" She whispered over his lips.
The horse lord growled lowly, drawing his hand up the back of Belkaia's leg to squeeze her backside before parking his hand against the small of her back, "kiss me," he smiled.
"No," she returned before her husband lifted his head to silence her with a kiss.

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[Dravite]

Dravite lost his hands in the woman's dress, pulling it up around her hips and further still over her back as she lowered herself against him with a painfully tempting roll of her hips that caused his muscles to tighten and his hands to ball into fists, wrapped within the fabric. His kiss was forceful, demanding, untamed. He raised his hips to join them but Belkaia danced away from his advances, twisting her pelvis to move just out of reach, leaving the man frustrated and full of longing.

The woman released a breathy sound against her husband's mouth and Dravite kissed her again, folding his arms about her body stiffly, just below the shoulder blades to pull her in against him. She bit his lower lip as their bodies met and the man felt Belkaia's small baby bump pressed against his taut midsection. He hissed through gritted teeth until the woman released his lower lip and closed her hands against his arms, "No," she mouthed again, his time against his cheek so that he might feel her say the word without hearing it.
"Kaia," he pleaded, relentless; he rolled the woman onto her back, pinning her under his weight with a familiar ease.
Belkaia pushed the man's shoulders and scratched his side to make him flinch, "No!" She scolded, hushed, mindful of Pearl and the boys; she did not want to wake them.
Dravite closed his teeth against the woman's neck and nipped her lightly only to feel the woman go tense beneath him, "Ku," he lifted his head to kiss her and was met with the sting of her hand throw hard against his cheek; unexpected, like thunder just before the rain.

The sharp noise rang out in the silence of the tent and Dravite sat back like a scolded dog, struck for playing with his favourite bone. She hit him again, this time half-heartedly on the arm. He bowed and kissed the swell of her growing belly, respecting the wishes of his queen before returning to his place on the pile of furs. Belkaia fixed the blanket over them and rubbed the man's back, seemingly confused as to why he had given up so easily when he was usually prone to taking what he wanted, whether she obliged or not.

He felt the tension hanging in the air like a thick, winter fog, as if his wife wanted to comfort him, but would not go back on her wishes now that she had won the battle. Belkaia toyed with his matted mane and flattened her body against his back, wrapping an arm over his side while Dravite let the strange silence wash over him, focusing on the sound of their breathing. When he stretched his arm out, he found Pearl's form in the darkness and drew her close, so that he was wedged between the two women. A heavy arm lay over Pearl's side, his face buried against her neck where he set down a lazy trail of kisses.

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[Pearl]

The trip from the summer grounds to the fall grounds was particularly taxing upon Pearl this time. She’d not made the trip with so many animals and people to look out for before. Garrison and Kyanite were terrors in their own sweet way as they were happy to be getting into anything and everything they possibly could. Belkaia had been busy chasing them down and herding them, while Pearl did her best to help the men with the animals, and help Belkaia with the boys. She worried, and as such, when she finally allowed herself to lay down for the nights and get some rest, she fell asleep hard and fast; not waking until Syna’s light forced her way in upon her mind.

Pearl scooted her way in against her husband at his urgings; the curve of her backside pushed against his groin. She let out a small whimper of a sound as his lips pressed that trail of kisses over her flesh. She was caught in the euphoria of that state of mind that wasn’t quite awake, yet wasn’t quite asleep either. The weight of his arm over her, holding her close to him was a comfort which she focused upon. Fingers found his and began draw themselves over the length of own before dragging his hand up to body and to her mouth so lips could kiss his knuckles before curling in holding his hand at her mouth; her breath warm upon his hand.

Again she made that sound that wasn’t quite a moan. It seems even in this uncertain state of sleep that her husband had a way of drawing her closer to the threshold of wakefulness while filling her with a desire for his flesh. Her bare body pressed back in against his, a slight shifting of her hips bringing the fullness of her behind in against him, a gentle rolling of her hips continued the process over and over again. Since they had become intimate, Pearl had decided that clothes, even as sparse as undergarments, were too much of a bother to sleep in during the heat that continued to linger while they traveled.

Her mouth found his knuckles once again and now moistened lips kissed over them, dragging from one to the next until she found the tip of his finger where she began to nip and tease the calloused pad. “Mm, Dravite,” she whispered before she began to push the light summer blanket away so her legs would be free and unencumbered by the material.

She was slowly becoming aware of her surroundings as he was teasing her desires awake with those kisses. Pearl released her hold on his hand and reached back to cup his cheek in her palm; her thumb brushing over the stubble at the back of his jaw as she turned her head enough to capture his lips with her own. Lashes were still lowered, but she let her desires guide her in the darkness to her husband.


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[Dravite]

His flesh was painfully attuned to the caress of his wife's fingers, lips, and skin. The soft swell of her behind pressed against his form arousing a purely primal instinct. His pulse quickened, blood and adrenaline propelled through his body at an alarming speed. Her kiss invited him, unseeing eyes dared him, and in the darkness that sleep sought to rule, desire stirred.

There was a familiar tightening in his belly, a longing no words could still. The horse lord turned his weight on the woman, pinning her under his form as his hips settled against her backside, hands planted upon the furs beneath them. His knees drove hers apart, making himself at home between the woman's thighs. He entered her slowly, revelling in the warmth as her form adjusted to the intrusion of flesh.

Primitive, powerful, burning need flooded his senses in a binding that made a beast of the man. Time was immeasurable in the kingdom of lust, but just as all good things come to pass, so too did this; with a shuddering jolt, a deep groan, and a clumsy kiss. Dravite put Pearl on her back and paved a path his with lips from the knot in her belly to the swell of her lips. He kissed her as if he had drawn his last breath on this earth before sprawling out on his back with an arm trapped under the woman to pull her against his side.

Belkaia hooked a leg across his and the man wrapped his free arm about her shoulders, fingers lost in her hair. History had taught him that she was a jealous woman, yet he felt no tension between her and his much shier wife, Pearl. A woman on each arm, surely the gods themselves must envy him, the man thought. His heart thrummed in his chest, too awake to consider sleep, and far too comfortable to get up from the bed; Dravite was content just to lie between his wives until Belkaia broke the silence.

"Do you hate me for denying you that which you are entitled, my love?" She drew slow circles over his heart with the tips of her fingers; her movements fluid, relaxing.

Dravite was quiet for a chime, if he knew anything, it was to choose his words wisely when speaking to a woman in Belkaia's condition; pregnancy played strange tricks on a woman's mind he had decided, "I have none but love for you; both of you," he told her, offering a reassuring squeeze to pearl's arm.

Belkaia reached across the horse lord to seek out one of Pearl's hands in the darkness while Dravite combed her hair, which ran through his fingers like water, "are you happy, my wife?"
"Yes, husband."
"Do I make you happy?"
Belkaia did not answer; instead he felt her balled hand rest at his hip, clutching Pearl's, "sleep," was the only word she offered in reply.
"I cannot," he sighed and sat up on the bed of furs for a chime before leaving the tent.
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[Pearl]

As her husband entered her, she pushed her hips back at him, accepting him within her warmth with a deep moan. Her hands reached for the furs and balled them up in her fists as he took what was freely given. The night afforded them the cloak they needed to let their desires drive them. Pearl wasn’t afraid of her husband’s primal urges, rather she met them with her own. When their passions were spent, she lay beneath him, panting, until he turned her over.

She thread her fingers through his braids as he laid that trail of kisses upon her body. When his lips met hers in that kiss, she returned as much as she was given; fingers tightened in his hair until he pulled away, leaving them both breathless yet again.

Her senses were still focused on the primary, touch, scent, as he drew her close with one arm. She lay upon her back, her side against his. Her free arm up and over her head, the other at her hip; fingers gently scratching over his as if he and he alone were keeping her grounded.

Pearl was slowly becoming aware of her surroundings, remembering they were in the small tent and traveling to the fall grounds. It was Belkaia’s words that caused her lashes to flutter. Pearl couldn’t be sure she heard them correctly, but thought she was asking if their husband was upset with her for denying him. The realization of it all slowly began to sink in. Dravite’s words were heard next and Pearl had to swallow hard against the lump of emotions that began to form in her throat. He had nothing but love for her, and tacked on as an afterthought, for her.

When Belkaia’s hand found her own, Pearl didn’t fight it, instead she lay still where she was, allowing Belkaia to hold her hand as the conversation between the two continued though questions of happiness were left unanswered. When Dravite left the tent, she lay still where she was, unsure of what she was feeling; distressed, furious, despair, remorse, humiliated, protective, abandoned, determined, wary, suspicious, to name a few. Perhaps it was shock that caused her to be unable to focus.

With Dravite gone, the gap between them was too much for Belkaia. The woman situated herself closer to Pearl, reaching for her wife yet again, fingers lacing with Pearls. She lay facing Pearl, on her side as she spoke to her through the darkness. “It’s not you,” Belkaia whispered, words meant to reassure Pearl.
Pearl drew their hands up between them and turned her head so she could press a kiss to Belkaia’s knuckles. “Mm,” was all she said before she got up from the furs, a hand blindly reaching for a shirt and not caring whose it was as her fingers closed around the thin material. Slipping it on around her shoulders, she slid her arms into the arms of the shirt as she walked to the opening of the tent before she began to button it up, “I’ll return soon,” were the words that left her mouth as she stepped outside of the now too small tent.

Pearl was of the Diamond Clan and not used to sitting idly by while anything happened. Of course, this wasn’t a threat to their lives, but it was a threat to their family, and she needed to be clearer of mind if she was to meet this threat head on and have any chance at beating it. Pearl clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth, a familiar call to Knox. Knox nickered in return, though Pearl noticed the sound seemed sluggish, as if the stallion was sleepy. Who could blame him really?

She began walking on bare feet towards the nicker when she saw Dravite. She wasn’t sure what to say to him, nor was she sure how well he could see her in the faint light of the night. Her face was a mirror of her emotions; each one playing over her face in rapid succession. Bluest eyes met his and held his gaze; her feet ceased to move and she stood there, looking at him, wearing only his shirt.


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[Dravite]

As he stepped outside he was suddenly aware that he had no reason for putting distance between himself and his family; they'll sleep better without me, Dravite convinced himself, tossing and turning as he had been for the last few nights. Dravite had managed to pick up his pants on the way out of the tent but as he worked his feet into the legs he tripped and caught himself against the wagon, feeling the bite if something sharp tear a gouge in his left forearm. He hissed and did his pants up hurriedly before searching in the darkness for whatever it was that he had injured himself on. The pad if his thumb found a nail that had worked itself loose and he picked up his hatchet from the wagon, using the back of the weapon like a makeshift hammer to smack the wayward nail back into its rightful place.

A low nicker from one of the horses drew his eye and Dravite set his hatchet down as he heard the familiar footfalls of his wife moving across camp. Pearl stopped in the darkness to stare at him and Dravite looked back, the moonlight on her face revealing the inner turmoil she must be feeling. Transfixed, he did not feel the pain in his arm or the blood that traced the lengths of his fingers to fall away from the rough points of his burly digits.

Slowly, he closed the gap between them, taking Pearl's arms before cupping her cheeks, it was then he felt the blood which he mistook for tears. He put his arms around the woman's shoulders and kissed the top of her head, holding her close to let her take of his warmth and strength, "why do you weep, dear heart?" His tone was warm, whispered.

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[Pearl]

Pearl noticed the wetness upon his hand as it met her cheek. She could feel the warmth of it and the familiar scent of blood reached her senses. “You’re hurt,” she spoke as she drew his hand away from her shoulder and back before her where she could see it; holding it now with both hands. Her tone was flat, though it softened as she continued, “come to the fire so I can see how badly.” Pearl led her husband to the small fire in the middle of all the smaller tents.

She knelt down by the fire, once they were close to it, and picked up one of the sticks, stirring it around to uncover the coals; then added several of the smaller sticks of wood to the embers to encourage the flame to rekindle and offer them more lighting than the moon alone offered. It was impossible for Pearl to remain angry, or even annoyed, with Dravite for long. Still the pain lingered in her eyes.

The cut wasn’t deep, a bit more than a scratch, but still the chance for infection was possible if left untreated. “Wait here,” she told him as she went to get her bag. It was sitting right inside the tent; always close to Pearl in case it was needed. She returned to his side, with her bag and a water skin and bade him sit down with her. She sat on folded knees before him, his hand on her bare legs while she washed the wound with the water; her touch gentle while she worked. “I’m here for you, with you,” she began; words spoken quietly in hopes that her emotions would be hidden. “My body is yours. My heart, also yours. Love isn’t perfection. It’s messy and inconvenient. But those are the best parts of it. They bring us closer by pushing us harder.”
She held a cloth to his arm now to dry the water from his and help staunch the bleeding.
Pearl didn’t look up to him while she spoke, but kept her eyes upon her hands as she tended his wound.
“When you want to make love, I will make love with you. When you want to fuck, I will fuck you. ”
She sprinkled a dusting of the turmeric powder over the wound to protect it from infection and help his blood form a clot to seal off the bleeding.
“You have more than just my love. You have my trust,” she added before she took some of the Calendula salve and put it over his wound to soothe and help it heal.
“There will be times when you will break my heart,” her voice caught on her emotions and she gave pause to her words, hiding the pause with taking a bandage from her bag and slowly winding it around his forearm to cover the wound and keep it clean, “and I will forgive you. Love is easier to give than trust.”
Pearl put the items back into her bag so they would be available to use next time she needed them.
“When you reached for me this night, I thought it was me you were reaching for, when it was clearly Belkaia’s rejection you were replacing with a willing body. When you spoke of love, I was added in, as an afterthought as you said you had nothing but love for Belkaia, adding the words ‘both of you’ as if you remembered I was there and possibly listening. Perhaps you never meant any of it in that manner, but the words, the actions, they still struck me as hard as a hand being thrown in anger would have.”

Finally, Pearl looked up to her husband, the blood from his hand still smeared across her cheek, as well as her arm, and the shirt she wore, which was his. “I trust you not to abuse my love, or my body….again.” Throughout all of her words, Pearl’s voice had never raised. That myriad of emotions was still hovering upon her face and within her eyes.



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[Dravite]

The warmth that radiated from the suffocated fire pit was quickly intensified by Pearl's stirring of the still burning embers. Having added fuel in the form of sticks and wood saw the small flames burn bright once more and revealed what the darkness and kept concealed until now, the cut on his arm that had gone unnoticed by the man. Like most knocks that went unseen, this one had been painless after the initial bite of the nail, but now that Dravite had caught sight or the tear in his skin and the blood that ran from the wound, he felt a slight sting.

Pearl told him to wait while she went to collect her things and returned soon after to treat him, first by cleaning the wound with water and by adding a strange powder he knew little about, before she wrapped it with clean bandages. The horse lord committed these little details to memory so that next time he managed to cut himself he would know how to deal with it. As Pearl worked she spoke in an even tone, flat, but heavy with her message. She was his wife, one that would offer him the world if she could and he needed to treat her better, to try and think before he acted in future.

Dravite had never been an overly emotional man, better familiarised with his physical senses than those of the mind, but what Pearl had to share with him by firelight slowly sunk in. She trusted him, loved him, but trust was harder to win back once lost; he had taken advantage of her as an outlet for his frustration and in doing so, betrayed her trust and given her cause to question his love for her. He wanted to argue, to kiss her, to hold her close and tell her that she was wrong, that he cared a great deal; but truth needed no disguise, and he would not lie.

The horse lord took Pearl's hand and got to his feet, crossing camp as quietly as he knew how, his bare feet finding a silent path through the tussocks in the flickering light. He led her into the tall grass and stopped a few metres from camp, turning to cup her cheeks and brush her hair back from her face, "I want you, Pearl. I trust you, I love you," he closed a fistful of her hair in his hand and pressed his lips to her right ear, "I need you," the Watchman mouthed.

His hands went to her hips as he kissed the sensitive skin below her ear and across the edge of her jaw, tempting her into a kiss that would take them both to their knees. The air was pleasant and warm with little to no breeze; the tall grass sighed as the man put his wife on her back and lorded over her, bowing to kiss her mouth, his tongue willing hers to play as he indulged her with another passionate kiss. He wanted to make love her, not as some form of apology for his wayward actions, but because she was everything he wanted and needed; her and her alone.

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[Dove Brown]

Your Grades!
Brought to you on the wings of a Dove!

Please remember to edit your grading request. If you have any questions, comments or concerns regarding your grade, please do not hesitate to send me a PM.

Name: Dravite
XP Award:

• Seduction 3
• Subterfuge 1
• Carpentry 1
• Medicine 1

Lore:

• Waking from dark dreams to a dead leg
• Pregnancy plays strange tricks on a woman's mind?
• Subterfuge: choosing words carefully
• Wagon nails can work loose
• Proud nails can cause injuries
• Hammering a nail back into place
• Using a hatchet as a makeshift hammer
• Love isn't perfection
• Love is easier to win than trust
• Medicine: dealing with cuts

Injuries: The cut will re-open if he uses the arm too much the next day, but will be healed over within ten days.


Name:Pearl
XP Award:

• Child care 1
• Animal Husbandry 1
• Seduction 2
• Medicine 1
• Observation 2
• Socialisation 2

Lore:

• As passionate as each other
• The pain of being only an afterthought
• Love isn't perfection
• Love is easier to give than trust
• Medicine: use a cloth to dry a washed cut and staunch blood

Notes: Plenty of interaction, both in and out of bed, but not so many skills. Still, enjoy your grades.