Unique Surprises

[Naiya]

Fall 7th 516 AV
23rd bell

Heat saturated the pavilion despite her efforts to coax the cool fingers of Zulrav through her home. Her fingers trailed across her empty space, still his despite the time that had passed. With her eyes closed she could still imagine his touch, the weight of his arms around her and the warm comfort of his presence.

Her baby stirred in her belly, and the illusion shattered, leaving her to face his absence, the emptiness of her bed that her wife could not fill. She knew that the hollow space where Shahar fit with them both was empty, she did not fill that space for her wife either. It did not change the newer lack of space between them, rather shaped it with the knowledge of something shared.

Pain. Sharp and familiar took hold of her body, and she knew sleep would continue to elude her. Contractions, they had told her, were common. Especially so late in the pregnancy, and other pains often followed as her body prepered for birth. All the same, she didn't need to disturb Khida as she faced another sleepless night. She pushed herself up until she was sitting, a hand hovering just above her wife's hair. Her heart urged her to wake the woman, stroke her hair and ask for her companionship.

Her mind knew better, she couldn't take what sleep the woman could get, especially when hunting would take her away so early in morning. She pulled herself away from her wife and her bed, unsure the time but sure her day had begun regardless.

She dressed slowly, the pain of her pregnancy hindering her movements as much as the swelling of her belly. She was silent, or as close to as she could be. Tied up in her clothes she padded, barefoot, out to the fire. The coals of the previous fire were still hot enough to kindle the next. It was late, then, not early. Perhaps a tea would calm her enough for sleep. She tossed only a small bit of dung to the embers, letting it catch in the old flame. Dusting off her hands she poured water from her wetskin into the kettle, letting the flames heat the iron she strode the the stores, finding a soothing mint and chamomile.

A snort from the herd had her cooing soft words at her companion, the red stallion concerned for her. She placed her herbs in a mug, cooing softly to the creature, easing him back to sleep despite her mild discomfort. She returned to the fire, settling beside the flickering light to contemplate the night.

She propped her sore feet towards the flame, reaching back to support her upper body as her eyes turned to Leth's face. Lore said that his face was seen the same across the land, no matter where on the mother one stood. She hoped that Shahar was in good health somewhere, gazing up at Leth in the same way as she.

He was traveling back to her as fast as his feet could take him, of that she was sure. Yet, there was comfort in the promise of the shared sight of the pale god in the sky, watching over them to protect the lovers from the tragedy Leth and Syna had faced.

He would have woken, padded out into the night beside her, silent in ways she was not. He was a hunter, stealthy, comfortable in the darkness. She would have settled beside him, tucking into him like a child into their beloved beds. Silence was his comfort, but it was not the same as the silence of being alone. She ached at the thought, the harsh absence that filled the empty night beside her.

It was a lonely silence that overtook her, as she sat seeking the stallion in the stars that protected the city. Her eyes falling across the pinpricks of light that danced along side Leth's glowing orb. She waited, body and soul a singular ache, for tea to soothe her mind.

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Naiya space Pavi | Common | Tukant
other space Pavi | Common | Tukant

[Khida]

Instinct knew change; deeper than awareness, it did not recognize what or how, only that difference existed. What was different might also be hazard; instinct roused sleepy awareness to the fore. It did not take coming fully awake for the Kelvic to realize what had changed was only their wife, once again restless in the midst of the night. Drowsy, still dozing, she listened as the woman withdrew from the tent. Silence reigned afterwards, the hushed breath of the night, a stillness with a weight of its own that only encouraged returning to sleep.

Khida could have gone back to sleep... but the tent was altogether too quiet now, and empty... and it did not feel right to leave their wife alone to her restlessness. It was more right that they be alone together.

It took some ticks, perhaps even a few chimes, before her drowsy mind put its decision together. Only then did the Kelvic lift herself from the blankets and follow their wife out into the moon-lit night. The vestiges of summer heat still lingered in earth and sky; it was warm enough she slept without clothes, and did not miss them upon exiting the pavilion, either. Outside, Khida found what she expected: their wife beside a fire cajoled back into life, kettle set to heating. The woman had a pronounced fondness for tea.

Khida clicked her tongue -- tch tch tch -- as she approached the woman, sound soft yet louder than the rustle of flattened grass beneath her feet. It was not a chiding sound, but rather an affectionate one, the closest she had found to the chirps she would have voiced as falcon. Coming to stand behind their wife, she ran her fingers through the woman's bed-ruffled hair, smoothing errant locks down. She could have stated the obvious, that Naiya needed to sleep; she could have voiced worry; she did not. The Kelvic did not worry that Naiya, that their child, would be well; manifestly, they were, and they would remain so unless and until they were not.

No, Khida did not state the obvious. Instead, she clicked her tongue again, following the woman's gaze up towards the stars. They were but light to her eyes, glittering spangles in the blackness, the province of a god whose name she failed to recall. "What is?" she asked quietly, spoken rather than signed; her hands remained occupied. It was a leading question; she might equally have meant the stars, or the tea, or whatever kept Naiya from slumber.

Truth be told, the answer only mattered in that conversation opposed alone.

Khida space Common | Pavi
other space Common | Pavi

[Naiya]

It wasn't the sound of approach that stirred her, rather a gentle tsking coo, a sound immediately recognizable as her wife. Her approach was one Naiya didn't need to react strongly to, her body remaining in the posture of comfort she had found beside the fire.

She did her best to imitate the sound, tapping her tongue against her teeth to mimic the woman. It was too heavy, wrong but a clear attempt at the noise. She didn't have to tell Khida that she had hoped the other woman would sleep, nor that she didn't want to burden her with a late night. Khida knew those things, knew she didn't have to be awake with her. So instead she let her head fall back, just enough to catch sight of her wife bathed in the pale light of the night, hands dancing through her hair.

She smiled warmly at the woman, the small curve to her lips an artifact of the love and welcome that slowly crept across her posture. Khida looked as bed ruffled as herself, the heavy fingers of sleep reluctant to release their hold on her. There was a special beauty in her wife, cut of thin, hard lines that were an exception even among the drykas. Drafted in the colors of earth, it was a beauty that Naiya had oft desired in her past.

To see her form shift in the dancing light of the fire brought her the possessiveness that was the motivation she felt to make sure her wife stayed dressed in public. There were times and places where nudity was as simple as that, and times when it was more complicated by others. It was simply comfort now, the touch of skin, escape from the heat of night.

Her eyes drifted back to the sky, as her voice pulled through the silence that had fallen around them. "The elders say that the face of Leth is the same across the world..." She informed her wife, a tangent line of thought to give meaning to her next words, "I was" thinking, "perhaps Shahar is somewhere now, looking at the same moon as us." It was something years of storytelling had planted into her mind, and after a tick, she realized it was not at all something that might be relevant to her wife. Apology, musings, her hands shaped slowly, drifting like her thoughts.

Naiya was tempted to state the obvious again, that she couldn't sleep, that her pregnancy had made her uncomfortable, that her pains were worse as she neared the end of her pregnancy. Instead she reached up to find her wife's hand, pulling it loose from her tangled locks so that she could press it against her cheek, drawing comfort and reassurance from the touch. She was spared from having to explain her actions when the kettle began to softly shrill, a warning that it would soon scream and wake the others. She kissed her wife's hand, then pressed her self up to standing, the motion easy now that she was less fearful of causing harm by doing so.

She used a cloth to lift the lid from the kettle, letting the steam from the boiling water escape through a larger opening. In the light of the fire, Naiya gestured offering to her wife, as she dropped the bundle of calming herbs into the kettle to brew. Khida was not a tea drinker normally, so she followed the offer with words, "I picked herbs for relaxation, in hopes they might lull me back to sleep. They are mild." soothing.

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Naiya space Pavi | Common | Tukant
other space Pavi | Common | Tukant

[Khida]

It seemed strangely difficult to comprehend their wife's words from behind, without clear view of face or posture or even the woman's hands; in this moment, there were only words and tone, and those things seemed quite bare of meaning. Khida picked out Leth, and the name of their husband, and the action of looking. She turned her own gaze towards the moon rather than the stars, its glow muted compared to the sun, yet currently the most vibrant thing in the entire sky. Meanwhile, her hands found a small knot in their wife's hair; carefully, she set about picking it out by feel alone.

Did he sleep? Did he lay wide awake? The Kelvic inquired of their bond; the bond returned to her no specific answers. All she could discern was alive, by virtue of its continued existence, though that fact was nonetheless gratifying to have reaffirmed.

She would have spoken, if words had come to her lips; but Khida did not know his state, waking or sleeping, and the social nicety of a reassuring platitude escaped her. Too, while the Kelvic's response hung in uncertain limbo, their wife acted to change the focus of their interaction, her grasp pressing Khida's fingers against the woman's own cheek. A kiss to their skin followed, as the kettle began to sing, the woman lifting herself up to tend to her tea.

Khida stood back and watched her go about her business; tea was their wife's province, and not a task that required two pairs of hands besides. Not when there were no children underfoot to complicate the issue. Naiya went on to offer tea to the Kelvic, said something of its contents; something about sleep. Yes, Khida signed, accepting readily. Words were not her strength, but a companionable presence, sharing the night and whatever tea their wife had chosen to make; that, she could provide.

It would take a few chimes for the tea to brew, if similar previous experiences were any indication. Sit, we wait, she suggested by sign, reverting to preference now that circumstances made voiceless communication feasible. I, the cup. Naiya might return to relaxing, instead of standing around waiting for the steeping to finish; pouring liquid was well within Khida's capabilities.

Khida space Common | Pavi
other space Common | Pavi

[Naiya]

Khida's acceptance came, perhaps not with the enthusiasm of enjoying tea, but for the underlying companionship and time together. Tea was, in it's way, a ritual. Fetch water, let it warm, breathe the soothing aromatics of the herbs as they steep. It was relaxing, and done best with company, even if only one's own.

So she smiled softly at her wife in the glow of the flame, her heart lifted by the understanding between them. Khida would keep her company, share the moment of serenity despite the hour and the circumstance. It wasn't the tea that Khida sought, but it was Naiya's goal and so it became one they shared.

Khida bid her to sit once more, and Naiya could find no protest, not with the aching of her body and the tightening of her belly. Gratitude over took her form, moving beyond the obvious appreciation for offering to pour tea, but finding no more specific form. She settled back into the grass, crossing her legs so that she could settle her weight more comfortably.

"I am reminded of how glad I am that you are here" Naiya spoke into the quiet that had settled, the shaping of her hands suggesting the one who was not here into the frame of reference. "I was afraid... to have a wuepa," this wuepa her hands touched lightly across her stomach pausing in her speech as her body contracted around the child, the late night cramping a familiar practice towards the late end of her pregnancy.

Lacking... drykas family "No father, a single mother," her voice shifted in tone, becoming more sorrowful, "It was lonely". Her posture shifted away from the sadness, changing shape. "I am glad that is no longer the case."

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Naiya space Pavi | Common | Tukant
other space Pavi | Common | Tukant

[Khida]

Their wife sat, and observed; Khida stood, exercising hunter's patience, though the only thing she hunted was time. She watched nothing and everything, where everything at this hour of the night meant only that space illumined by fire. The silence of the darkness settled about them -- too late for crickets, frogs, and owls alike, too early for songbirds and other creatures of the dawn. The horses stood as they always did, large shapes barely perceived in the gloom; if she looked away, disregarded the horses, she and their wife might as well be the only people in the world.

They, and one other, physically removed yet forever intangibly present, so long as their bond remained whole.

The red-haired woman spoke, pulling the drifting bits of Khida's attention back together and focusing their whole on the present. She gave forth gratitude, fear, resolution. Truths that had not been spoken between them in some time, yet which remained in the negative space even when not addressed.

Lonely, Khida echoed in sign. The gesture was one she had become familiar with over the past month, a word which encapsulated sentiments they all shared. Her gaze flicked to the west, as lonely had only one context between them -- but the building whistle of the kettle saved the Kelvic from having to phrase an immediate response. She busied her hands with its handle, with mugs, with the pouring of water and setting the kettle aside and delivering their wife's yet-steeping tea to her hands. Then she reoccupied her own hands with her own tea, cupping fingers around the rapidly warming mug where they expressed nothing at all.

"Good I am here," Khida affirmed aloud, and it was true. She did not regret her prior absence; she had done what seemed needful, and that was that. Now she also did what seemed needful, supporting their family where he could not. But in the silence of the night, when nothing whatsoever was needful -- then the loneliness crept back in from the corners to which it had been banished through the day. No number of humans, however cherished, could substitute for the far-flung other half of her self.

Khida chose not to speak of that, though, instead sipping at her tea; it wasn't a difficult choice. Each of them lacked too much of the other's language, and besides, she had never found a way to satisfactorily describe her bond with the hunter to anyone else. It was not like a Strider bond, she now knew for certain -- and without that analogy to lean upon, what words could possibly suffice?

The silence gathered to itself an expectant timbre, or so it seemed to Khida; she looked up towards their wife's regard, feeling something else ought to be said. Maybe her earlier acknowledgment hadn't been quite enough. Family large now, she signed, prying one hand free of the mug to do so. Many below tent. Certainly by her standards...

oocI didn't write a lot of outward detail, but I imagine Naiya can read a good bit into Khida's non-expression in the middle here; feel free to do so if you see fit.

Khida space Common | Pavi
other space Common | Pavi

[Naiya]

Khida echoed her sentiment, hands carving out the sign that had filled so much place in their lives. Her eyes flicked out, across the land, mind touching on the place where Shahar was. It was a comfort, perhaps to know. Yet, by her own imaginings, only ever worse than not knowing, because there were so many possibilities beyond death that could have ensnared their other half.

Khida's connection with Shahar had always been different, beyond Naiya's understanding but never something that was her concern. Watching the woman now, as her eyes looked after their missing husband, she wondered if perhaps there was something more to the bond that Naiya didn't know. It wasn't a strider bond, that didn't draw the eye or the mind in any one direction. Khida seemed to know, without doubt.

That must be worse, harder, as though knowing that the distance and direction were so great she could not fly to him. It was...

Lonely.

Naiya took her mug, letting the feel of it chase away the empty lacking that hollowed her mind this evening. Fill the space with methodical sips and growing warmth, delicate flowers and herbs blooming across the tongue. Ritual had its place, and the warmth and company that drove her to make tea brought her the memory and the feeling of the same now.

Her breath let out in a sigh, soft but long, trying to let the stress fade with the air as it parted from her lips. Imagining that perhaps if she could relax her body might stop fighting her desire to sleep with the tightening and cramping that had awoken her.

From the mug in her hands she looked up, watchign the play of firelight across Khida's face, highlighting the sharp angles that had deepened in the past seson, more than that the woman looked older, an aspect perhaps of the stress that had preyed upon their family, but it seemed to have shown starkly in the other woman.

The weight of her eyes seemed to call Khida to speak again, something she hadn't meant, but not a circumstance she was against.

Many, Naiya signed in agreement her hand working free of the cupping of her mug. A smile broke her lips apart, "And more soon" Her hand gestured to her belly, eyes dancing with the excitement that worked it's way through her at the thought.

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Naiya space Pavi | Common | Tukant
other space Pavi | Common | Tukant