She Gets Under My Skin

by **Azmere** on January 1st, 2017, 8:50 am

5th of Winter, 516 AV
11th Bell

Azmere stretched his arms above his head and arched his back which allowed the muscles to tighten in form. The ankal squatted down and took hold of his yvas with both bags attached. Shifting his hips forward, the man curled his arms which made his biceps bulge and pulse in protest. The action was a trigger for once he had his elbows bent past sixty percent, the Drykas forced down with his legs and that created enough force to extend him up to his full height with the yvas just above his center of gravity. The watchman turned and pushed up with his arms slowly and under control. The burning sensation let him know that he was getting a workout, even if it was brief. He gently set the yvas down on Skylla’s back and shifted it around until it settled into the curve.

Azmere turned to see Grey sitting near him and smiled. The man patted his leg twice and the dog stood up on all fours then trotted up and rested his ribs against his master’s leg. The ankal reached down and scratched Grey behind the ears then took hold of the yvas handle. With a slight crouch then hop, the watchman swung up into the yvas without any hitch in his motion. The archer settled in the leather seat then hooked his boots into the straps. He stood slightly which lifted his bum and used his knees to urge his young mare into action.

Skylla responded by darting out of camp and into the greenway. The ankal clicked his tongue against his teeth as s sign for Grey to follow. Azmere steered Skylla with words, his hips and legs and the handle on his yvas. While he was an expert rider, the bond they shared was young and he recognized the need for a heavy hand with such a headstrong strider. The ride was smooth but it forced the Drykas to remain on alert the entire time despite slowing Skylla down to just a trot as they neared the cluster of Endyrkas’ heart. Once he passed the Conclave’s tent, he noticed a large cluster near the start of the Amethyst pavilions; the Jarmok.

Azmere steered his mount wide but kept the pace slow. He had not been to the Lilacwind Pavilion in a long time. As he rode, he noticed several familiar faces and nodded all the while keeping focus on his posture and occasionally checking to see Grey still jogging alongside. After several ticks, the man saw the exotic tent and walked Skylla up to its landing. Azmere dismounted with into a crouch and winced at the pain that burst from his leg wound. The scar tissue was so thick that it felt like a rod jammed into his thigh. Regardless, the scarred man stood up and clicked his tongue at the dog; faithful as ever, Grey walked just behind Azmere. The big arm reached out and opened the tent and the ankal stepped inside. His contrasting gaze peered around and he addressed the first person he spied. “Open for business?” When a face would gaze upon him, Azmere would sign a need for windmarks and a touch up.

by **Taurina** on January 1st, 2017, 10:48 pm

Taurina had told Leth one night not long ago that she was tired of being alone. She had said that she was going to find her place, a pavilion and family to surround her so maybe the ache would go away or at least become less. He had not given her any sign of disagreement. He had not come down to startle the notion out of her nor put anything in her way aside from her own fears and doubts. The Ethaefal took the lack of an answer as permission to find a place for herself, though she had not yet been very successful in her search. Figuring out where to start had been hard and then there had been those people not many days ago… those ones with their blasphemy against Mizahar’s gods and the others with their talk of genocide. More things to think about and linger on. More things to distract from her own problems and tasks.

Hands moved carefully along one of the ink jars. A rag hung from Taurina’s fingers as she ran it over the glass of the jar Injal had handed her. The task was easy and her muscles knew it well. She did not have to think hard or focus on the job, so her mind wandered. It wandered to those foolish people who brought fear and doubt with them and it wandered to her self given task. Find a family. Fill the hole. Be lonely no longer.

“Taurina…” Injal’s voice worked to drag Taurina out of her spacey thoughts, “still here?”

He signed that he was concerned for her, but Taurina offered up a half hearted smile and signed that he need not worry and that she was fine. Injal did not seemed convinced, but Taurina’s refocusing on their task shut him up for the time being. She finished off with the current jar and moved on to the next one. Taurina tried to make her mind stay on her easy task and keep from wandering, working towards decreasing the worry towards her that Injal had.

Get a jar, dry it, set it with the pile, repeat. Taurina kept her hands moving and Injal kept handing her newly cleaned jars. He kept the talking to a minimum (which was strange for him) which Taurina did not mind at all, she preferred the silence and suspected it was her current silence and mind wandering that was causing Injal to silence himself rather than keep up a conversation. Another jar was dried and put with the pile, Taurina’s hands moving over to gather the next one only to find there was none. Her gaze lifted to Injal who signed to her that there was no more and they were done for now. Taurina nodded, understanding the basics of his signs, and she began taking the now clean and dried jars over to where they would wait for new ink to fill them.

There were about ten of the newly cleaned jars to be moved, so Taurina carried them over three at a time. She did not wish to break any of them so it was simpler just to carry less and make more trips. The jars were gently placed next to others waiting to be filled with ink which would likely happen soon. Ink jars did not usually stay empty for very long. Taurina took her task in three trips -carrying four jars on her last trip- and had just returned to the front of the tent after finishing up when the Drykas man walked into the tent.

Taurina was not in the mood to greet people, but the man settled on the first person he saw to speak to and that happened to be the Eth. Taurina gave the best attempt at a smile that she could find within herself and focused on what the male was saying and signing. She caught enough to know that the man was looking for something to do with his Windmarks. Her gaze moved over to the ink that covered the upper part of the man’s right arm, trying not to be too overly fascinated by the scars that covered the left side of his face. The ink was safer to look at and would likely get her in less trouble. She signed a welcome and a confirmation that yes, they were in fact open for business.

The man signed something about his Windmarks, though Taurina had a hard time figuring out the exact meaning behind his signs. Touch up she got, though she was unsure if that was all he had asked for. Did he wish for new additions to the work as well? Taurina sighed internally, knowing it was best if she found out before going to find Injal or one of the others. Hopefully none were busy, she did not trust herself to add to his marks. Touch up, maybe.. maybe. She was getting better, the others were trusting her a little more with some simpler tattooing things, but it depended. She did not wish to scar anyone’s skin with badly done ink and refused to do anything unless Injal or Jarorra were there to supervise. She simply did not trust herself yet, her experience was too limited. Too unknowing.

Apologies the Eth signed before adding in pavi heavily accented in common, “I missed those signs. Do you wish for additional ink or just to have the existing filled in?”

Taurina waited for his reply, feeling foolish for having to ask him to clarify, but she still struggled. It was something she was very slowly overcoming, step by step. Patience was key and while it did not always feel like it because of how many dangers there were out there, she had all the time in the world.

Common | Pavi | 'Thoughts'

by **Azmere** on January 17th, 2017, 5:14 pm

The ankal shifted his weight to his right leg. The scar tissue embedded in his left thigh rarely allowed him to remain balanced for long. The large dog moved to stand beside Azmere then leaned against the left leg, bushy tail wagging languidly back and forth. The archer turned his head and peered down to the canine then snapped his fingers twice. The sound caught the dog’s attention and it turned the big head to look up at the master whose hand was now pointing with two fingers towards the ground. For a moment, Grey looked confused. Azmere snapped his fingers once then repeated the down sign with the same hand. The canine paused as if he thought to ignore the command a second time then walked his hind legs up under his rump and sat down. For his obedience, albeit belated, the weathered hand of the Drykas gave the big furry head a scratch before the man lifted his blue and gold stare to the soft-spoken attendant.

Azmere signed ohs tratche and offered a glimmer of his half-smile. “I need a new mark” the man indicated the squares of scar tissue on his chest “and a touch up” the big hand motioned along the inside of his right shoulder where some of the sun’s rays on his existing mark were fading. The contrasting gaze bursting with colorful stars took in the sight of the young woman. She seemed moody. Azmere knew very little about the inner workings of the female psyche but he understood animal behavior and people were just animals; highly intelligent and infinitely cruel animals. There was doubt surrounding the girl but the ankal was unsure why. He was absolutely determined to push through the awkwardness which seemed to be filling up the pavilion, however and did so with as pleasant of a face as he could muster. Despite his scars and shacking eyes, the man knew that soft expressions went a long way in handling affairs of business.

The man moved slowly over towards where Taurina was standing. The archer intentionally moved one leg at a time to give his approach a less-weighted purpose as if he was just wandering. He cast his eyes to the empty jars and took note of the way the woman held them. She was cautious and calculating. There were many who would fill their arms in an effort to shorten the task of moving the containers but not this girl. She cared. The question was simple but it would wait to be spoken. Once Azmere was just outside of arm’s reach, he stopped and tilted his head down to level his gaze upon the brown eyes of his host. In his peripheral, he notices the shadows he initially presumed upon her hands were actually scars; burns, most likely. Suddenly fascinated, the man had to remind himself of his purpose. “I am Azmere.” His hands signed ankal and watchman. The right hand then moved up to touch the squares where some of his flesh had been removed. “The wind tells me you can make this beautiful.”

by **Taurina** on January 18th, 2017, 9:12 am

The male Drykas was interesting to watch as he interacted with the big canine whom he had brought with him. It was not often people brought their animals into the Lilacwind pavilion. Mostly people brought their families, their pavilions, it was only sometimes that they brought their animals. Taurina was fascinated by these two who seemed to be still figuring out who held the role of master. The man knew, but the dog questioned at first. The sign was made again and hesitatingly that big dog did as it was told. A whisper of a smile spread over Taurina’s face as the dog received a pat of praise. It was only after that, when the Drykas man lifted strange eyes up to her own brown ones, that the smile faded some and became more forced. A pretty picture for a costumer was given rather than a genuine smile that would be given to a friend. Taurina was not very good at the former and had no great friends to test out the later with.

The Ethaefal was glad when the man just moved onto answering the question she had given earlier, still feeling foolish of her inability to understand the signs he had given her. Even his attempt to smooth it over did not ease her mind well. That sign she had seen before, but did not know the exact meaning of. It was when she made small mistakes that Injal would use that sign before helping her fix it. Something along the lines of not to worry, things were okay. The man moved on, telling her of what he needed. It was indeed both a new mark and a touch up. Taurina gave a simple nod, preparing to go get Injal. New marks were more his territory, not hers. Besides, this man had scarring over the area he wished to have inked over and she had not done that before. Taurina was sure she would just mess up whatever she tried to do, so it seemed best to get one of the professionals.

The man, however, was moving towards her. Despite her current mood, she did not wish to be rude so she did not turn away. Instead she let the man with his slowly, wandering gait reach her. She had finished up her task of putting the last of the empty jars with the others which made her hands feel strangely empty. She had to try hard not to fidget. He was in front of her soon enough though, that duel colored gaze of his looking into what she thought to be very dull looking brown eyes. Her Ethaefal ones were so much more interesting… too bad he could not see those now. Taurina questioned why she even cared.

He told her of his name and his hands spoke of the ranks he held. Taurina took several moments to decipher the signs, but she did not struggle with these so much as she had with the ones earlier. The sign for ankal she had seen before, same with watchman. It was simply a matter of remembering. Ankals were the head of the pavilions, each family had one, and the watchman were what the people who protected them all were called. At least, that is what Taurina believed to be the case from what she had learned up to this point during her stay in Endrykas. The title ‘ankal’ fascinated Taurina, for she had been trying to figure out how to find herself a place to call home. Finding an ankal seemed like it could be a place to start. She could at the very least ask him how finding a pavilion to become apart of might work.

Before the question could be asked though or her name could even be spoken, Azmere spoke again and those words brought an embarrassed blush to Taurina’s cheeks. Her lips parted slightly before quickly shutting again. She felt like laughing and hiding in shame all at once. Instead she just stood frozen for several ticks before regaining her composer. The redness faded to a rosy pink as she began to speak, hands very hesitantly signing along with her broken pavi.

“I’m afraid the winds have told you wrong,” she tried to keep her voice steady, it did not need the extra tremble in it when it already had the thick accent working to distort her words.

She signed her apologies once more after her words, feeling as though she had mislead him in someway without meaning to.

“I am Taurina and I’m just an apprentice. My own work is not to the level of the others yet. Touch ups are about all I feel safe doing. Injal, Jarorra, or Keil are who you are looking for,” Taurina spoke and made the signs for unknowing, new, and assistant to further tell what she was.

Taurina’s gaze swept over the man’s body after she finished speaking, looking at the areas he had motioned to. The scarring he had was severe and Taurina found herself wondering what had happened to cause such damage. The place to ask, however, was not hers. He would tell if he wished or he would keep it to himself if he wished that instead. Still, Taurina was curious and more so she was curious about his eyes. How had he gained a gaze that looked like the stars?

“Would you like me to go grab one of them?” Taurina asked, signing that she was able and willing to go do just that.

Common | Pavi | 'Thoughts'

by **Azmere** on January 22nd, 2017, 4:52 am

The ankal watched the small woman’s face fill with rouge at his statement. Perhaps it was misguided but there was something about this woman that made Azmere wat to help her. It made him want to build her up somehow. Her posture, her demeanor and even her words confessed that she was incapable, less than or unworthy. The watchman had made a bit of a name for himself in finding the beauty and strength behind what some might view as damaged goods. Many viewed the archer as damaged though few would ever openly speak in such a way to the man. Despite his scarring, Azmere cast the shadow of a warrior but he was often seen as slow or witless. While he was not a scholarly man by any stretch of the word, Azmere had a process. He took time to consider options and scenarios before responding to questions and challenges. This is where quick-tongued folk gave rise to the belief that the man lacked intellect and reason. The ankal didn’t mind. He had found that being underestimated was a far greater advantage than a handicap.

In this moment, he was rolling a series of questions around in his mind like one who polishes stones. Water is cast into a heavy crock with rocks. The container is moved in a consistent pattern of swirls that force the chunks of earth to ride along the sides in a wave. With enough time and patience, the water strips away the dirt and smooths the rough edges leaving behind things of beauty and worth. The girl had finished talking, Taurina was her name, and now there was a brief yet wholly awkward silence. He could sense her wanting to do something or wanting something to happen. Asher fidgeted in such situations and so did Rufio.

“Don’t fetch them.” Azmere’s words came out in a tone that was bordering on mischief but as he continued it softened. “Injal will come in his own time.” Azmere bent his fingers into the symbol for apology then moved before the girl could sort out the confusion that was bound to follow. He made a half step forward with his right foot and his right hand snapped out to take Taurina by the wrist of her left hand. The grip was strong but firm and his left hand held ready to stave off any retaliation. The motion didn’t end there for Azmere leaned in and lifted her hand up against the left side of his face. He watched Taurina closely through all of this and made it so the back of her hand and his cheek faced the young girl. After a tick of observation, she would see the same types of markings on both surfaces. Burns left ridges, pocks, half lines and uneven bursts of color and nothing ever seemed to resemble a pattern. However, Azmere had recently come to understand that the pattern lied outside of the individual scar. “You don’t have to be ashamed of your past.”

Azmere released his hold on her and took a step back. Being next to Taurina had given him a chance to see that she was a bit on the thin side. Her frame was tiny, sure, but she lacked the signs of the fullness pavilion life afforded. This began a new chain of curiosities which the archer now washed in his mind. He wasn’t sure what to expect at this point. He had, in a manner, assaulted the girl. Regardless of his intentions, time might prove that he chose poorly. Thinking he should say something, the big man signed a second apology then spoke in a soft tone as he pointed to the marred flesh on his neck and face. “Do you wanna know how I got these scars?”

by **Taurina** on January 23rd, 2017, 11:24 pm

A flurry of concern crossed over the Ethaefal’s features. Azmere had asked her not to go grab one of the others and she pondered if she had done something wrong. Said something that had scared him away. His voice, however, had carried mischief and the calmer words that followed spoke of Injal coming on his own. Taurina was ready to insist that he did not have to wait when her concern turned into something more like confusion and then surprise.

Apology was signed by the male and before she could question or pull away, he had moved closer towards her. His hand reached out and pulled her wrist into a firm grip that instinct told her to struggle against. When the surprise wore off, Taurina looked something like a cornered rabbit for several ticks. Her brown gaze, searching his dual-colored one in effort to figure out why he had taken ahold of her.

His body leaned in closer to her, her hand brought up to the scarred portion of his face. Panic dissolved as curiosity took a hold over her that was stronger than the fear. She felt the scars under her fingertips now. The warped skin felt strange, otherworldly, beneath her touch. Despite her hand being held there by force, her touch was something gentle and curious. While she could have dug fingernails into the skin, fought harder against him, she did not. Instead her gaze fixed on the scars she had earlier been trying so hard not to star at. She saw there marks that matched some of her own. The back of her hand had similar distorted patterns. Hers were more faint than his, white lines stretching out like winding rivers across her hands. The effected skin stood out against her already pale complexion. There was no rhythm or reason to the scars. They just existed, like his.

“You don’t understand..” Taurina murmured softly, not moving to add sign in with her words, “I don’t remember it.”

No matter how hard she had tried, it never came. Not in the fullness she desired at least. There were just glimpses of the past left over. The big black horse, nightmares that sometimes came that could be memories, the pain of the windmarks that now laced up her back. None of it was clear and most was unknown. She did not even know how these scars on her hands came into being. There were many of them. A mixture of burns and marks that looked as though they came from some sharp object or claws, likely all of the above. All she knew of were the slash marks across her palms. Those she earned in Mura and that had been in this life.

His grasp released her and the Ethaefal took a half a step back. She was unsure of if she should fear him or not. He had reached out and taken ahold of her, but he had not struck her or harmed her. Her small body had been left intact and despite his strong grip, her wrist was not sore. He had spoken of the past, how she should not be ashamed of it. How did he know that in a way, she was? Was she so easily read? Or did he just know what he was looking at? What made him wish to, in a way, try to help her? The questions swam in Taurina’s mind.

Someone smarter might have run or fought back. Perhaps even simply have scolded him for having grabbed her. Taurina was too full of questions though. Her curiosity drove her and she wanted to know. There was so much that she wanted to know. The Ethaefal watched as Azmere apologized once more and then gestured to the marred flesh of his face and neck. His words offered her answers and they were too tempting to pass up.

“Tell me,” was the whisper that came from Taurina’s lips, her hands telling him of how curious she was and how much she longed for answers

Common | Pavi | 'Thoughts'

by **Azmere** on February 5th, 2017, 2:42 pm

The ankal walked with his slight limp over towards an area of the Amethyst pavilion where pillows, mats and furs were cast about in a languid style. Customers and the occasional guest were generally entertained here as work was discussed and sketches were made. Azmere had been in this tent before and knew how Jarrora loved to lounge about and idly trace designs while the patrons described events or dreams to her. Everything was inspiration and the watchman was beginning to believe that Taurina was still searching for her spark.

Azmere walked in the midst of the comfortable trappings and picked up his left foot. He held it suspended for a moment and used the idle leg as leverage. He swung it to the left which spun him around from his back being exposed to the girl to facing her. He winked with his right eye and collapsed backwards with a rush up air that billowed some of the furs and kicked up a few feathers. He motioned for her to join him and bent his fingers into a request asking that she bring something to with which to draw. The Drykas wasn’t always a patient man but he had a feeling about Taurina and something deep inside his bones directed him to be more vulnerable within her presence. He waited until she came to join him though he would stop her before she sat down.

“You have to fall.” Azmere sported his signature half-smile (the left side of his face was immobilized by the scar tissue) and sign like me. It was silly –childish even but the ankal was starting to see the deeper sadness behind the dull eyes. He knew the sorrow of loss and had scars to prove it but none so deep as the ones he carried on the inside. Th archer gave a nod of encouragement to the wiry young woman. He would watch Taurina until she had settled in and made herself comfortable before beginning his tale.

Azmere wound up his tale but maintained a quiet yet firm tone. “When I was a boy,” he signed before then motioned to his facial scarring. “I questioned a lot. My father died and my mother remarried.” He watched her with calculating eyes but continued with the story. “I was third son to the ankal.” A nobody. Restless. The archer shifted and burrowed a bit deeper into the padding and comfort of the pavilion. He had far simpler tastes so he lacked this kind of lounging ability at home and found a strange comfort in the unfamiliar setting. “I disgraced my mother.” Ran away. Foolish “I was attacked on my first night alone in the Sea of Grass by glassbeaks.” The ankal signed fear. He signed it three times and his face revealed a bit of what kind of expression that might have accompanied the powerful emotion. “I thought it was over.” The weathered hands bent into a few more signals. Death. No hope.

Azmere went quiet for a moment. He shut his multi-colored eyes for several ticks as the shiver of that night ran up his spine. If one were to look close enough, they would see the skin of the archer’s arms pucker into a million little bumps. When the watchman opened his gaze, it landed instantly upon the dim eyes of Taurina. His stare was intense but she would not know why. The truth was that he had not shared that story with very many people –less than the number of fingers on one hand to be precise. While a strong man and a leader, the Drykas was constantly concerned with how he was compared to greater men; prominent ankals and warriors of both past and present. Something deep in his gut told him that Taurina would understand the disappointment of failure; that same something urged him to not let the eerie silence continue for too long.

The scarred man made a weak half-smile as he resumed. “Without a storm, the sky was split by lightning!” His voice climbed as if he was adding his own electricity into the air. Blinding. Scorching “I felt like I was on fire and for a while I couldn’t see.” Azmere absently touched some of the scarring on his face and neck. Dead birds. Father of Storms sees all. “I slept with my dog in that place for a time I couldn’t count.” The marred visage tilted to the side and looked far away. After a tick or three, a twinkle appeared in the man’s eyes. Good dog. Good friend. He returned his focus to the girl with hair like moonlight. “An ankal and his father found me and brought me to my mother.” There was a whole separate story that came about after the bittersweet homecoming but it was a tale for another time. The archer realized that the spirits had led him to disclose this bit about himself for a reason.

It reminded him of when he found his family. It brought back memories of being alone and unappreciated. The Moonbows had been quick to keep his mother busy so that he was never coddled. The change he experienced through that event not only shaped him physically but it put Azmere on a path which has given him the ability to protect and care for others. His hands signed question and he sat up. The big man leaned forward and lowered the volume of his voice but maintained the even tone he had at the beginning. “Because of my scars, I know who to trust. I know who cares for me.” Faith over fear. Choice over chance. He gave the phrases a minute to sink in for the young woman.

“Who cares for you?”
Who do you trust?

by **Taurina** on February 10th, 2017, 8:32 am

Taurina could not help but think of this Drykas man as being something of an odd one. One moment he had come and taken ahold of her, forcing the touch of her fingers against his face, and the next he was full of the playfulness of a child. The fall was one that garnered a smile from the usually serious Ethaefal. Not many were successful at getting one of those out of her, especially one born from pure amusement. Her curious mind found this man to be intriguing and his story was one she wished to learn, as she had previously told him. So it was with a sort of eagerness that she complied to his request. She was quick about going over and gathering up her journal with the charcoal that was always tucked between its pages. Her feet worked in something that was close to a skip as she bridged the gap between Azmere’s place amongst the cushions and where she had had to go to grab her journal.

“Fall?” the question came with a skeptical raising of brows and a drop of amusement.

Taurina remained weary for several ticks before those dull brown eyes of hers relaxed and she gave in. To fall, to trust the cushions to catch her, to loose that control over herself for any matter of time.. it was a challenge. That part of her that shielded herself from everyone, that kept her intact, screamed at her not to do it. Something had crept inside of her, however, and that something dared her to follow Azmere. Dared her to defy her sense of self preservation. Dared her to fall.

The challenge did not go unanswered. Taurina dropped her journal in the pillow beside the one she planned to land in before she took a breath. Even this childish act took a strength. The Eth straightened her knees, stretched out her arms so they looked like the wings of a soaring bird. She did not know how to fall, but she trusted the cushions to catch her. Eyes squeezed shut. One.. Two… Three.. Her form collapsed backward and she landed against the comforts of pillow and furs back first. The dull caramel eyes opened and looked up to find Azmere’s star filled ones. Satisfied?

It only took the Eth a couple ticks longer to get herself more properly situated against the cushions. Her journal was collected and opened to a page past the ones filled with the things that plagued her nightmares. She had not drawn much since last season’s end that did not have anything to do with the Zith beasts that still shrieked in her imagination. She hoped that she would not disappoint Azmere, even though she did not know what he expected. Hopefully something more than membranous wings or sharp claws would again be created by her hands.

Azmere lost his childlike playfulness as something much more serious took ahold of him. The ankal launched into his story and Taurina listened, working to grasp every word and sign he gave her. The Ethaefal found that she understood the ankal. It was not so much the beginning of his story that she connected with, though that did reach down within her and touched some dormant part of her soul that understood better the ways of the Drykas than her mind currently did. No, she connected with the fear he expressed. In his sign, in his face.. she knew that. That emotion represented what her life had been for nearly four years. How had he survived it? Why did he seem so strong despite it?

Then Azmere did not seem so strong. After he revealed that he had felt the darkness no hope brought, he went quiet. Taurina waited, for this she understood as well. While she did not know the depth of his emotions or the fact that not many knew this story, she understood that he was placing in her something she herself had not granted to many people. Trust. Faith. His eyes opened and his gaze was deep as it looked into hers. Taurina just gazed back, searching for understanding, but speaking nothing.

There was more to the story and the watchman gave it to her with a weaker version of his half smile. Lightning had filled the sky and darkness followed. It had been a dog that staid with him and then there had been people. The dog brought some of the light back to Azmere’s eyes, however, and it was that light that Taurina focused on most. A lone star in the darkness.

“Because of my scars, I know who to trust. I know who cares for me.” Faith over fear. Choice over chance.

The ankle had gotten more serious and closer. He no longer lounged but sat up and leaned forward, his voice spoken evening over the words he spoke. Taurina stared at him as ticks went by. The words sunk in, but Taurina’s gaze showed her conflict.

“Who cares for you?”
Who do you trust?

Taurina looked sad as she allowed her gaze to fall from the ankal's face in shame. ’No one.’ That was the answer simply put. She was alone. Even during the night hours when Leth was her company, she was alone. He did not speak, he did not come visit her. The Ethaefal had been abandoned by all and she had begun to feel the weight of that. Even the company of her coworkers did not fill that void. Not even a little bit.

“I am alone,” she admitted, her voice cracking over already broken pavi as she allowed herself, this once, to be vulnerable in front of another, “there is no one to care. No one to trust.”

The scarred hands moved over her eyes, she would not cry in front of an ankal. At least, she told herself that she would not cry in front of him. She did not understand this. Why did she trust him? These were the secrets she kept close to her heart, the emotions she saved for the hours when no one was looking. How was it now, on the cushions of the Lilacwind pavilion, was she willing to allow him to see these things?

“You are the first…” Taurina’s voice trailed off as her sad gaze rose to meet Azmere’s star filled one before she told a little of her story, “I am not true Drykas. I was, once. Long ago.” Lifetimes. “I am Ethaefal by Leth’s light, Drykas by Syna’s. I have no place, no family.” Wanderer. “I search, I have been searching… I don’t want to be alone anymore.”

‘I am so tired of being alone.’

Common | Pavi | 'Thoughts'

by **Azmere** on February 16th, 2017, 3:40 am

Azmere suddenly felt an urge deep within his chest to help this woman. He did not know about her race and while he would like to learn this was not the time. It was strange how quickly a simple errand had evolved into a conversation of fears and failures. The gods always had a way of humbling the young ankal and he was never one to miss the call. He allowed Taurina some space to speak but found that he wanted to do something to show her that he understood the seemingly endless pursuit for answers and the frustrations that came along for the ride. More than that, the watchman wanted to end her torment.

When the girl stopped speaking, her soft and sad eyes found his gaze once more. The Drykas started to speak but stopped. Something told him that words weren’t going to solve this riddle. Time has a way of healing old wounds and sometimes the scar is more than just a reminder. Azmere reached out and took her charcoal from her. He was a horrible artist –having never really tried to draw a single thing- the man gently took her wrist with his free hand. He pushed the coarse pen against her thin arm where the forearm bones made a somewhat flat surface. He drew a few short line segments that connected in various ways then criss-crossed a few more in between the first set.

From his perspective, it looked like a lopsided arrowhead but he frowned since he had no idea how she would perceive it from her view. Azmere handed back the drawing utensil then leaned over so that he was directly in front of her. While the pillows were soft and comforting to lounge in, the archer felt hindered by the lack of a sturdy base beneath him and engaged his core muscles. He flexed his abs and strained his obliques to keep some semblance of being upright despite the pull of gravity that tried to topple him into the young girl.

He didn’t immediately release her arm. Instead, his rough fingers slid down against her skin towards her hand and took hold of her small fingers. He closed his fist around them in a firm way but did not squeeze. He placed his right hand over the scarred tissue that coated the back of her hand and stared at Taurina until he was certain that she was absolutely paying attention. During this search for acknowledgement, the ankal did his best to read the caramel stare for any signs that he was wrong in his intuition. Thus far, he felt that their kindred brokenness had led him to read and judge her correctly. When enough time had passed and the young artist had finished contemplating his terrible diagram of his family knot, Azmere spoke in a soft voice that he was certain only she would hear. “Sometimes answers don’t look like what we picture in our minds.”

Without letting go of her hand, the man used the toned aspects of his body to shift his weight down and back against his haunches then he stood up by exerting a great deal of force from his thighs. It created a wave-like motion from his hips but it gave Azmere the ability to keep his balance. The archer didn’t wait and pulled with his firm grip and strong arms to hasten her ascension to her feet. Taurina was different from anyone the Drykas had ever met but the scarred man knew that she was just the same as everyone he called home. Once she was on her feet, the watchman would offer his half-smile; genuinely as if to convey some kind of hope to the shifter. “Come with me, Taurina. I have some people I want you to meet.”

YoI'm ok ending this here but I am up for continuing if you wish though we'll have to do some plotting.

by **Rufio** on March 15th, 2017, 10:08 am

G R A D E

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T A U R I N A

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Closed She Gets Under My Skin