[The Wildlands] Amazing Grace (Closed, Grace)

by **Abashai** on February 1st, 2011, 5:06 pm

Abashai carefully retrieved the enchanted statuette from Grace, his other hand unconsciously lifting to press against his chest, over a scare that marred his skin where a crossbow bolt had fatally pierced him on that day. It would have slain him, if the quarrel were not plucked from his body by the God of Chaos himself. The memory made him shudder. Then the young woman's words drew his attention back from that dark moment. The Benshiran only offered a faint smile, a subtle indication that it was indeed an experience he would never forget, though he tried vainly everyday to do just that.

As perceptive as Grace had been, it was no surprise that she too read into the desert man's discomfort at her inquiry about Nya. He did not intend to react with such a standoffish posture, but Nya was always his concern, her security, and even a stranger's knowledge of her gave reason for caution. He met her gray eyes, Abashai's smile warmed at her apology, an unspoken acceptance and assurance that no harm had been done. He slipped the monkey figure into the pocket of his long desert coat and reached out carefully to run his hand along Jasper's smooth fur.

The intriguing woman picked-up on his course change, no doubt seeing the rudder shift and the conversation return to the topic of her work, and those who may stand against it. Grace's demeanor took on a taste of defiance, once again the air of confidence exuded from the archeologist. Again, a subtle turn to the man's smile gave it a wry twist. He did not doubt that some may have underestimated the determination of the young woman, just as he had when he first saw her. Their conversational fencing continued, as Grace tossed Shai's own question back at him.

Her question about secrets of the past, her choice of words, flattened his smile for an instant. Did she know? Abashai's wariness arose, his suspicion, never far, peered in. In a breath his composure returned, and a disarming smile returned. "No, I believe much can be learned, mistakes avoided, understanding expanded...even wrongs made right from the discoveries of things lost to history." His eyes glanced out towards the work site and the ancient stones. "My people try to remember the past, what they had gone through.." His eyes glanced down to the bands tattooed around his wrists, spikes coming from the the back of his hands. "Yes, the past should not be forgotten." Abashai's eyes lifted again to the strong, curious gray gaze of the fair-skinned woman. There was a determination of his own in that glance.

by **Grace** on February 4th, 2011, 4:15 pm

Grace watched as Abashai answered her question. She had to admit some small sense of relief as she listened to him, for her tolerance was indeed low for those people misled enough to imagine that the past has no bearing on their lives or their future. She smiled as she listened to him, casually walking back toward her work. It made her feel well armed when she was surrounded by those things most familiar, and her instincts were telling her that if she were to learn more about the Benshiran, there would need to be more risk on her part. More exposure of those things she was hesitant to share. Too close, too close. She could hear the voice of self preservation speaking in her head, but try as she might, she could not deny that this man made her curious. She had little fear that his intentions were anything but noble, but he was treading on her ground now, and she was not ready.

Grace took a seat back on her rock, her eye catching sight of her weapons and she smirked. "You asked if I had command of my weapons...have you a desire to fight me, Abashai?" With a slow sweeping motion, she grazed her hand over the ground, snagging the hilt of one blade as she passed over it. She pulled it clear from her possessions with a metallic Sching! and then lay it flat across her lap, her hand still firmly grasping the hilt. "Or was it mere curiosity?" She decided she was not ready to let him any further into her world until she wished it as well. Her playful smile could be mistaken for nothing more than good natured sparring, she made sure of it before garnering a weapon in the presence of someone who appeared as capable as her new companion. Their interaction had touched on something that spoke to the very fabric of who she was, and in her experience, she'd learned that there were few, if any, strangers along the way who warranted a look into that part of her, so though her deflection may have been a bit ham handed, she felt more in control once again."I imagine that here and now, is not really the place or time for such experiments, but I do enjoy the practice, so perhaps it will come to pass one say soon." Without any outward sign, she was still feeling a little handicap, Abashai had someone nurtured a feeling of ease in her and she needed to ignore it or she might find herself revealing things that she never revealed. It was disarming, setting her off her game.

Having dropped an immovable obstacle in the road, she waited to see how he reacted. Her gray eyes positively sparkling with mischief, and a tiny bit of relief. Something inside her loved making things difficult for people...but she had no doubt that the Benshiran would rise to the occasion, and she eagerly awaited acting as witness to it.

by **Abashai** on February 6th, 2011, 7:19 pm

Grace seemed pleased with Abashai's answer, as he suspected. Most everyone welcomed words that aligned with their own beliefs and passions, if the intent was deemed sincere. Abashai's sentiment was sincere, if not laced with cynicism at the acute relevancy the subject had to he and Nya's life now. With a parting pat on Jasper's neck, the Benshiran followed the woman back to her impromptu work station. His eyes followed her as she dipped down to grasp the hilt of a weapon, and before the hiss of the freed iron had ceased, Abashai already had a fist wrapped around the handle of the khopesh at his back, the blade already several inches free of his battle harness. However, in an instant he read her posture, not one of a pending strike, but a casual retrieval, as if she reached for a familair book or tool. He trusted no one completely, but Nya.

The man's hand slipped from his weapon as she turned toward him, taking her seat and resting the curious blade across her knees. Abashai's eyes fell to the strange hook-tipped sword, studying its curves and points, unlike any sword he had encountered before. It was exotic, surely requiring special training to wield. It seemed out of place in the hand of Grace, the young woman with her spectacles and scrolls did not appear the martial type. But her words boasted a confidence with the hooked sword that the Benshiran believed was warranted. the topic of conversation had lead to a subject of interest to the desert warrior, and he was delighted at this unexpected line of conversation with the most interesting woman.

"No, of course I do not seek a fight. I am not a thug to search out opponents to test my own prowess. Violence is an unpleasant but necessary means at times to reach an honorable end. We live in a dangerous world, as you surely know, or you would not have learned to defend yourself." What Shai said was mosty true. Though, if pressed, he would admit a righteous battle fed a deep desire to reap justice and exert his own martial strength, urged on by the ennervating power his gnosis afforded him in combat. It was pleasant, and satisfying at times. "I agree, now is not the time, though one day I hope to see how those wicked weapons are used. I have an novel interest in weapons."
In fact, Abashai owned a small aresnal which even included a couple enchanted weapons. He drew the khopesh from his harness, resting the tip on the ground and leaning one arm on the pommel of the simple arcane weapon. "You see, I wield my weapons not in my own name, but in the name of my Lord."

by **Grace** on February 9th, 2011, 3:48 pm

Grace sat with her back resting on a tall dusty stone, in exactly the context she had been when Abashai first greeted her save the sword resting casually across her thighs. With her eyes focused on his face, she watched and listened as he responded to her playful challenge,
though try as she might to respect his wish for privacy, she could not ignore the veiled change in his eyes. Why would he lie now? The question popped into her head before she could stop it, and as her arms lifted to cross over her chest her curious mind began unraveling the clues. It was then that he mentioned the guiding force behind his actions and she knew. As she often did while solving a puzzle, she lifted one hand to her chin, tapping lightly on her lower lip with the tip of her finger as she searched for the exact words she wished to speak.

“Yes, your lord, I can see it in you, the carriage of a holy man.” She smiled, still tapping. “I find it most comforting, that we, being such different people are both led to our passions and life’s work by the very thing to which we have promised our faith.” Her gaze slipped to the Khopesh, taking in the detail and command of the great sword. The lethal edge caught the light and she could almost feel the wicked cut of the blade. She paused in her attention, paying a silent tribute to the sword and it weilder before looking back into the Benshiran’s eyes. “You, by way of that blade, and me, with a quill.” It was at that moment that her eyes narrowed and her head cocked to the side. “That is why the lie is curious to me.” Unintentionally, one corner of her mouth turned up, she thrived on exposure, whether it be of a secret hidden beneath layers and layers of soil and sand, or the secret held in the deepest reaches of a persons heart. “Clearly, you enjoy the feeling of a blade in your grip…that blade.“ She lifted her chin, her eyes staring into his. “Do you think it disrespectful to admit that you enjoy…" Not enjoy.. She cast the word aside, seeking the right one. "Thrive. You thrive on a good fight.”
Yes... that's it.

Though it may not have been with a sword in her hand, she had made a challenge to Abashai. If she was expected to offer up more of herself in this dance of illumination, she would not be alone in her exposure. Her tapping had stilled and her hand lowered again to her lap, she was in full command of her words now and they emerged from her mouth with strength and conviction, throwing down a virtual gauntlet of challenge for him to go forward in their game, or turn back without prejudice. "I can see it in your eyes, so whether you choose to deny it is up to you. There in no reason to, in my opinion, because if you think it a mystery to your Lord, then I am not the only one you are trying to fool." As if a punctuaton to her words, her body dropped back against the stone, tenuously relaxed as she regarded him, awaiting his commitment or flight from her challenge.

by **Abashai** on February 11th, 2011, 2:19 pm

As Abashai leaned on his heavy blade, Grace donned her studious visage once again. He knew his statement about combat, as well as the revelation of his faith, and stirred the woman's seemingly bottomless curiosity. A glimmer of advantage crossed her gray eyes, as if she had something on him. When Grace made the comparison between them, and the dedication and passion they shared for their pursuits, the Benshiran offered a small smile and an acknowedging nod of the head. But his affirming demeanor fell as she made her accusation. A lie! She had accused him of lying! A deep scowl rose in his face. A sharp retort surged to his lips, but he held them shut. Inhaling deeply, the desert man composed himself. Grace had misunderstood the intent of his comments, he purposed to rectifying that.

As he stood tall, Abashai's face grew sober and authoritative. "To accuse a follow of the God of Truth and Purity of lying is a high offence, milady. You think I find satisfaction in the simple engagement of an opponent for the sake of the fight, like a barroom brawler. I am not so base or brutal. But I do revel in purging this world of those that sow hate and destruction, ridding us of the evil among us." The man's tone became impassioned. "I have seen wickedness you could not imagine, dark ancient evils that can only be destroyed with great sacrifice." Abashai paused, his thickly accented voice having become intense and low. Memories flashed in his head, visions of those terrible events where he had seen Nya suffer under the Ebonstryfe, and the day the Relic invaded her body, and at the command of Yahal, he had to slay his wife, and their unborn child, in order to kill the thing. Shai looked down at his open hand, the one that held the suvai that he plunged into Nya. The shiber character etched in his palm as a gnosis mark of the Holy One was still as vibrant and dark as the day it had appeared. "I do not relish violence for its own sake, but I do find fulfillment in being an instrument of my god."

The follower of Yahal paused again, a strange revelation dawning behind his crystal blue-green eyes. Dira, the Goddess of Death herself, had told him that once, in another life, he had worshiped her. Something had revealed to him that he served her in much the same way, an instrument that brought death to those who tried to escape her inevitable grasp. Abashai's eyes focused again on Grace. She seemed confident, content and unintimidated as she reclined against the stone. But it was her probing that stirred such introspection within the Benshiran. Rare was this woman, a perceptive crafter of words and daring in her pursuits. A sigh helped to siphon off some of his fervor, and he waved the tip of his archaic weapon, without threat, in her direction. He managed a controled smile. "Do not be so arrogant as to think you know me so well, so soon, Grace of the Quill."

by **Grace** on February 11th, 2011, 5:06 pm

Grace held her position as the Benshiran threatened to unravel upon the voicing of her observation, even though a sneaking hand of fear began to grip her senses, she had committed to her point, and would not budge. After all, surely a man of such faith and nobility would not strike against a woman because of her opinion. A sly voice in her head offered up that if he did strike her down, it would only prove her point.

When he regained his ease, however forced, with the quiet hiss of a sigh, she responded to his statement. "Grace of the Quill, I like that." Her gray eyes were the only thing to move, lifting to look into his of blueish green. "I would never assume that one afternoon of conversation would give me any more than an observers insight in to the complexity of your character." She finally moved, reaching to her side to pull the water jug from her pack. As she casually filled the mug once more, her eyes stayed fixed on Abashai. "I was merely commenting on a physical change I witnessed in you, from your reaction, I will apologize. Please accept that I meant no insult." She bowed her head to him, quite sincere in her apology. the idea that he did not know this about himself made her even more interested, she enjoyed being able to shed light on those people she respected, to help them know themselves better. She narrowed her eyes just a fraction, taking pause to have a drink of water before leaning forward to extend the mug to him as well. She returned to her relaxed posture, still looking at him. "I find it interesting what can be revealed about our own nature through the words of a stranger. Don't you? Abashai?" She was casual in her appearance, comfortably sitting as they continued to speak. As the smile on her face widened, she spoke again, loving the word play that the two of them had established."I find that it curbs the desire to be arrogant in thinking that we know everything about ourselves."

by **Abashai** on February 17th, 2011, 2:38 pm

For someone who seemed to spend a lot of time alone with dusty old scrolls and artifacts, Abashai pondered, Grace was quite adept at driving a poignant and stimulating conversation. The Benshiran smiled slightly as she acknowledged the playful name he had given her, he had hoped it took the sting from his zealous retort. The archeologist did not have to deny being one to assume too much upon casual observation. Abashai already knew her enough to give her more credit than that. As the young woman reached for her water, he did not look away, trying to glean something more from the clear, gray gaze she fixed upon him. It was quite apparent the two of them were not simply conversing, it was more akin to two predators coming across the same territory. Abashai and Grace circled each other semantically, probing one another's defenses, assessing strengths and weaknesses. Would they be allies or enemies? Their encounter had become a game, each finding the other intriguing and worthy of deeper exploration. Abashai found it intellectually stimulating. He loved talking with Nya, her perspective so unique, and though she had learned how humans think, the Kelvic's views were distinctly feline. Grace had proved a refreshing, and challenging, change of pace.

Grace's weapon still lay across her lap, Abashai's still in hand. Under other circumstances, he would not relinquish his hold on his blade as long as a stranger's was still bared. But, it seemed almost uncivil now, the engagement between Grace and he certainly not requiring such martial postures. Shai raised his khopesh and slid it into place and reached for the offered mug of water. He took a swig and handed it back to the young woman. Abashai's demeanor softened, intent on restraining his reactions to the cool tongued Grace. There was no doubt her words were carefully spoken, and the Benshiran sensed he was being directed down a specific path.

"No need to apologize, it is clear you are a keen observer, and not only of old artifacts dug from the ground." His featured lightened, but a playful cavalier tone still marked his words. "It is true that one can learn about one's self through the perspective of others. And it is true, revelation of how others see us can be humbling. But there also lies danger in pride that comes from assuming we can judge the intents and motivation of others by simple sight." Abashai's grin widened slightly as he resumed his seat upon a nearby stone. His hand brushed an unruly black lock from his tattooed face, his gaze still fixed on the woman's deceptively young and charming face. Who Grace was still lie behind her fortress of control, details about her fed carefully through its narrow gate. Abashai purposed to scale the walls.

"Tell me, Grace, what happened to your father?"

by **Grace** on March 3rd, 2011, 5:51 am

When the last flash of metal disappeared into its sheath she was a little surprised, seeing it as an indication, albeit measured, of his trust. In response she set aside her sword as he handed her back the mug. Grace drank the rest of the water and replaced the mug. His words marched at her head on, open and forthright in their delivery, she could see that while he may have forgiven her observation in this moment, inside he was still unnerved by her proclamations. He was handling his discomfort with grace and a feeling of cavalier ease, almost too light for her to take it at face value. She said nothing however, not wishing to bring his attention to any other facets of his personality just yet.

His question brought a calm eyebrow to perked attention. The gloves were off.. She looked at him without comment for a time that flirted with becoming uncomfortable. She pokes at a stone with the tip of her boot, absently fidgeting at his question. The souls were few any far between who ever heard her speak of Henry Cady, she protected his memory with a fortress of defense. Sharing only the most casual of details with those that asked.

"Henry?" Her eyes took on a nostalgic complexion, until she shifted them to the ground. "I'm afraid you've missed your chance to get to know him through any other means than my library of memories. He's dead, some seven years now. Her casual statement of his death was usually enough to curtail any further questions. People did not find it as interesting to delve into the past unless they thought that they were opening on old wound, or unraveling a well kept secret. Grace had learned that by being dismissive of certain details of her life, it took away the cachet of the discovery, and most were not curious or interested enough for pursuit. She did not imagine this would be true of the Benshiran, but she needed the time her tactics would provide to recover her composure.

by **Abashai** on March 7th, 2011, 1:49 pm

His clear, crystalline eyes did not waver from Grace's stolid grays, refusing to be unnerved by her lingering stare. Even when her gaze darted to the ground as she casually poked at a stone with her boot, Abashai knew he had proposed a challenge. The weapons were away, a sip of water shared from the same cup indicated an agreement of sorts, symbolic perhaps of a mutual respect that prompted more poignant conversation. There was no doubt an interest between the man and woman, at least intellectually. Not that she was not desirable. Abashai would not deny Grace possessed a beauty; framed in an attractive, youthful face with the maturity of a well-traveled woman. But he had no need of another woman, Nya was all he wanted, or could handle. Far more intriguing was the complexity of Grace's personality and knowledge.

So the Benshiran had probed, purposely aiming at a subject that would be both meaningful and challenge the historian to open up more of her personal life to him. Firstly, Abashai found it quite curious that Grace referred to her father by his given name. Henry. Among his people, such a practice was unheard of, given the rich family traditions they followed. The coy woman presented an eloquent response, almost sufficient to quell further inquiry. Almost. She had skirted the question with a lovely answer. He had inferred already that her father was dead. Abashai's question was more direct, intended to reveal how her father died. Perhaps it was too direct or forward. But Grace had raised the bar, poked around his psyche a bit, and sometimes a simple, straight forward strike could catch one's opponent off guard.

"I am sorry for your loss." the man spoke with sincerity. He decided not to push the issue of her father's death, perhaps it would come of its own. "I barely remember my father, or mother. I was very young when they died. A sandstorm took them, one of the terrible kind we call Hika-Zulrav, Zulrav's spit." Abashai spoke with a matter-of-factness, but a hint of emotion rode beneath it. Not necessarily sorrow, but one that suggested a deeper meaning. Indeed it did. The god that took his parents from him was now the same god his beloved served, and he too, as far as their quest went. The Benshiran leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as she sat across from Grace.

by **Grace** on March 31st, 2011, 4:52 pm

"Hika-Zulrav" She often repeated words she wished to commit to memory, in a way taking her notes aloud. Her pronunciation of the word was respectful and spot on, a perfect mimic of how Abashai had spoken the it. Her attention to detail translated to every aspect of her dealings, in her way of thinking, her life was the sum of the details she had uncovered so each was crucial. "I'm sorry for your loss as well Abashai. I find it hard to imagine how I would have traveled through life to this point without the foundation given me by Henry." She clearly had begun to consider that outcome as she returned her gaze to the Benshiran's cool eyes.

Her next movement was one to mirror his, leaning closer to him in a conspiratorial stance with her elbows braced on her knees, she brushed a careless blonde hair from her eyes. Her adjustment had diminished the empty space between them to that of a couple feet. She showed no discomfort at the proximity, in fact, she seemed a little bit like a subtle predator, waiting for her prey to make a mis-step, but in the most accommodating way. She curled one hand around the base of her elbow while using the other to support her chin, her wide gray eyes were soft with sympathy, but still focused with her curiosity. "Had your parents lived to see you grow into a man, how do you think you would be different from the person who sits here with me?" Any change in his face was noted by her, inspiring her to qualify her question, knowing it was all subjective. "I realize there is no way to know for sure...but your educated guess holds much interest to me." A playful smile curled her lips. "My offer is this, I will trade you this answer for the answer to any question you see fit to ask. This is not an offer I have ever made...and it has a short life..." Her face nearly glowed when he spirit of her mischief revealed itself, giving her an entirely different appeal for those with the same spirit.