Stormy Weather [Kashik]

[Vanator]

Timestamp 73th Day of Fall, 510 AV Location: Endrykas Status: Closed, tag Kashik The cold autumn rain pelted the lone rider as he drew closer to Endrykas, a dark green cloak wrapped around him, its cowl covering his head. A rare rumble of thunder echoed across the grasslands in the distance. Though he could probably have caught up with the caravan he and Satu had left, even with his Paintedmount, Vanator had chosen to follow an alternate route home. He was not anxious to explain the strange encounter with the Konti to his cousins. During the lonely trip back, the Drykas pondered upon the mysterious woman, what she had been able to do to him, luring him into a strange place hovering between this world and the Web. She spoke cryptically of time and space and destiny and some mysterious, invisible thread she followed. He admitted, she had tempted him, she was amazing and beautiful. Satu had said their meeting was destiny, and that they would meet again. He would be haunted by her memory for a long time. But he had brought his thoughts back home, where they needed to be, to Kashik and Khiara. He smiled to himself as he thought of them. Kash was showing now with his child, glowing already as her deep skin seemed like burnished bronze. His Drykas wife knew him without the aid of magicks, knew what he needed. She was his encourager and his champion, his challenger and at times his rival. And as he drew closer to home, chilled to the bone, all he wanted was dry clothes, a mug of meade and to share the warmth of his wives. Vanator knew there would be questions, for certainly his cousins had given Kash and Khi his note, and knowing those scoundrels, probably made some unhelpful comments about it as well.

[Kashik]

Dry clothes, a mug of meade, and the warmth of his wives. Well. Not exactly what the gods had in mind for the Denusk heir.

His mount was not a Strider, couldn't understand the ebb and flow of the Drykas heart, so it didn't know to give ample warning. It simply plodded through the thick haze of late autumn rain, heading towards what it knew was a dry blanket and a bucket of feed. It did not give him ample warning, or really any warning, of the familiar scent of another Drykas that approached.

Just a small, tired whicker as if of greeting - and then the wooden end of a spear came crashing through the rain, catching Vanator across the ribs and knocking him off his uncaring mount. And into a rather large puddle. A very cold one, too.

"Are you utterly mad?" Kashik screamed, her voice dampened by the falling rain but not her anger. She stood over him, spear twisted with the wicked point of it shoved down into the ground, her other hand balled into a furious fist. Her hair was braided out of her face, which just served to show the blush of rage that colored her cheeks and sparked through her eyes. Her pregnancy was indeed showing, though it seemed still too early yet to truly hinder her use of a spear. Obviously.

"Are you mad," she repeated, "or are two cunts not enough to satisfy the great Vanator Denusk, lover of women the world over? Do you have a petching bingo card with all the races of the world on it? 'Oh, look, found a Konti on the side of the road, CHECK!'" she sneered, making a wildly demonstrative checkmark motion with her free hand. "Your cousins have been wagging their tongues in every ale-tent in Endrykas! Oh, yes, once again Vanator's disappeared into the grasses with some foreign bitch, guess marriage hasn't changed his tune at all!" she screamed, repeating the gossip and kicking mud at him in her fury. "And your stupid note - what good the note when the bearer of it has such fear in his eyes that there's little question he expects to lose his balls over the delivery? What the petch were you thinking?!"

[Vanator]

Vanator was weary and his attention had waned as he caught glimpses of Endrykas and its tendrils of smoke through the sheets of rain. The hood of his cloak narrowed his vision, the mist and rain sufficient to conceal his enraged wife until the all-too-familiar butt of her spear crashed painfully against his ribcage. Caught off-guard, Vanator careened of the back of the Paintedmount and into the frigid puddle. "What the petch is wrong with you woman!" He managed to growl angrily before Kashik unleased her fury of accusations and condemnations, their native Pavi seemingly designed with a wide vocabulary of words made for such rantings. Lifting himself out of the mud, dripping wet, wincing in pain and mad as hell the Drykas man stood to his full height, looking down at his raging wife. The hood of his cloak had fallen back, the rain drenching his long hair and running down his face. Vanator glared at the reddening Kashik. Her beauty had always been a distraction, even now. But his own anger had been incited, false accusations and foolish kin kindling his ire. kashik had a temper that matched his own, though he had managed his over the last several years. His Drykas wife, however, still bore the fiery temper of a Diamond clan warrior. And yes...he would deal with his cousins later. "THAT IS ENOUGH KASHIK!" He roared, his face twisting as a sharp pain shot through his side. Van looked down at her, brow furrowed, eyes dark with fury. "So you think so little of me? You are all too willing to believe that I would run off behind your back to flatten the grass with whatever woman caught my eye! You heed the drunken words of my idiot cousins over my own!?" Droplets of rain sprayed from his lips as the husband loomed over his wife. "If our child was not nestled in your womb I would turn you over my knee and tan your arse!"

[Kashik]

Kashik squared off to him, staring up with no hint of being intimidated despite the fact that he was close to twice her weight and could likely knock her all over the grasslands. But there had never been any inclination to back down in this tiny, fiery woman, and less so when she was this pissed off. She simply shoved the head of her spear into the muddy ground and left it there, stepping up to him as he did to her, and balled her hands into fists at her side.

"Oh yeah, it's so completely out of the range of possibility that I'm the vagik for listening, is that it? That you'd decide to leave your wives alone in cold beds for an extra week and go haring off into the countryside with what has been described to me as a stunningly gorgeous woman, and I'm supposed to just smile when you get home and offer you a hot cup of tea? Is that it?" she yelled back, glaring up at him despite the rain that poured unceasingly across her face.

"Then tell me," she said, staring up at him with sparkling eyes. "Look me in the eyes and tell me that nothing happened with her. Say the words, and I'll drop to my knees right now and beg your forgiveness, and you can drag me back to the tent by my hair and let everyone know what a fool you have for a wife. Say it," she dared him - though beneath all the rage and the anger, the irrational hormonal fury that beat in her blood, there was the aching hope that he was right, and she was wrong.

[Vanator]

Vanator looked down at Kashik, rivulets of rain running down her face as she glared back at him. His First Wife had a temper, was quite renowned for it. It was part of her fiery spirit, the same spirit that he had found so appealing. Even now, as she fumed and spew accusations of adultery at him, Van appreciated that volatile passion. Well, he would have, if he had not been so disarmed by her storming assault. His hand remained on his side, as if it could dissipate the pain he felt in his ribs where the butt of her spear had struck him. He did not cower to the pain though, he would not give her that pleasure. He let Kashik go, venting her rage and leveling her charges against him. Then she got to the real issue, did he or didn't he. His own anger at her lack of trust in him faded as he contemplated how to answer her. Technically, he did not sleep with Satu. But to say nothing happened would be not entirely true. But he was not sure how, or even if, he could explain the full experience. He owed it to his wife to be honest...Vanator was no coward. The Drykas man looked into his wife's smoldering teal eyes. He paused and sighed." Kash...I did not sleep with her. I would not do that to you and Khiara. I will be honest, the temptation was there." He looked away to the tent city in the distance, taking in another deep breath and wiping the water from his face. He had to tell her that he kissed Satu. He would not lie or keep it from her. Turning his gaze back to Kashik, he looked her in the eyes. "She was intent on leaving the caravan for some reason, obsessed with following some magic thread or something. I could not let her go, she would have surely died, so I agreed to lead her to a caravan going her way. We rode through the night and stopped at sun up. She was strange, talking about time and space and mystical things. She was a konti, and I have no doubts some kind of diviner. Anyway, well, there was one kiss." Vanator spoke the last word in a firm tone, though his heart felt regret at having to confess them to Kashik. He stood firm, though the muscles of his abdomen tightened, not sure whether Kashik's response would include additional physical blows.

[Kashik]

His last statement hit her so hard that she actually flinched, took a step away from him. The betrayal was there in the flash of her eyes, and the disappointed twist of her mouth.

"You kissed her." She repeated it, as if she needed to hear it said aloud once more. "You loved Khiara, loved her. So much that I heard it in your voice every time you spoke of her. But you never dared to go so far because you held my honor in your hands. And now you hold both our honor and you still..."

Her voice trailed away in a rolling clap of thunder, and she shook her head. "We'll talk of this at home," she said as she grabbed her spear once more, turning to stride over and take the reins of his borrowed horse. She grabbed onto the yvas and hauled herself onto its back. "You can walk the rest of the way," she said, not quite able to look at him. With a kick, she sent it cantering back towards the tents in the distance.

* * *

The rains finally let up by the time Vanator made it back to Endrykas. When he finally arrived at the Denusk Pavilion, it would be rather obvious that everyone knew what was going on. It was the way of a people who lived their lives so closely together. Most of them seemed to be busying themselves with various activities outside of the tent, and several of them glanced his way and then quickly headed into town.

The tent was almost completely empty when he stepped inside. Kashik's clothing was hung on the line near the door, still dripping from her trip out to greet him. She sat among the pillows that were nominally considered "hers", changed into a dry linen nightgown and meticulously braiding her still-wet hair. She didn't look up as he entered, just kept working the strands together over and over again - though she seemed to have calmed down a bit since she left.

[Vanator]

The somber creature trudged through the Knotted Gates, his baleful glare causing even the stalwart keepers of the entrance to avert their attention elsewhere. Vanator's boots sloshed, soaked through to his socks, squishing audibly as he stalked through the pavilions toward the Denusk's home. Though the rain had ceased, his wet hair still clung to his head and stuck to his face. His cloaked dripped, soaked through. He was angry, some at Kashik for so easily believing he would flatten the grass with whomever came along, and for leaving him to enter the gates of Endrykas on foot, humiliating for a proud member of the horseclans. But mostly he was angry at himself, which only darkened his mood more. The large family tent loomed before him, his paintedmount standing outside. From the corner of his eyes, the family heir could see his kin scattering, remembering the temper Echaan's son had exhibited in the past. He only prayed his father or mother did not appear to intervene, he was in no mood for them. Taking the yvas and his gear from the horse, Vanator caught the gaze of his youngest cousin peering from behind a wagon. With a nod at the mare, he indicated she should put the animal up. The girl scurried to lead the mount away, avoiding any further eye contact with her brooding cousin. Vanator slipped through the pavilion opening, not surprised to find the main chamber empty. He spotted Kashik on her pillows, the braziers about the room casting a warm orange light on her form. Her attitude towards her husband was not as inviting, and her eyes remained unwilling to meet his own. He dropped the gear by the door with a loud thump and stripped off the drenched cloak, hanging it on a peg on a makeshift wooden rack by the entrance. Stripping off his tunic, he glowered at Kashik, who simply plied at her braids, seemingly indifferent to his presence, which only infuriated him further. The husband kicked of his boots and socks, then tugged off his breeches and undergarments. Hanging his clothes over the line next to Kashik's, Van moved to find a dry pair of pants and pulled them on. He stood, hands on hips, looking at Kashik. His angst eased to a simmer, finding he could not blame her for what she did. Not after what he did. A sigh escaped his lips. They stood in silence, the husband watching the dishonored wife. She was showing now, a small, smooth roundness pressing out from her abdomen. She had the glow most people claim a pregnant woman possesses, and the light of the burning embers nearby only accentuated it in her deep colored skin. She was carrying his child. To look upon the mother of his child and know he had made her feel betrayed sobered his heart and silenced his own protests. He wished he could explain what had happened, but she would never understand what he experienced in those few moments Satu had lead him to straddle the physical world and that of the Web, it was a powerful sensation. He allowed it to weaken him, to give in to the allure of the Konti. It would sound ridiculous, and in the end, make no difference, he still betrayed his wive's trust. Vanator could not blame his indiscretion on Satu. He was an adult, a leader among his people, and married to two wonderful, beautiful women. He had every reason to resist, even the lure of a simple kiss. No, she would not understand, nor wish to hear. All Kashik new was, once again, he had dishonored her and Khiara. He wondered where the Vanthan was, and if she too knew. He was certain she did. Slowly, he made his way towards his wife. His demeanor had faded from anger to conciliation. He stopped a respectful distance from the seated young woman. "Kash, I am sorry. I cannot excuse what happened. It happened. I do not intend for it to happen again. I do not seek out women for myself Kash, and you know it. To insinuate that I have an agenda to copulate with other women on a regular basis is not true. From the moment we exchanged our vows before Cheva in my tent almost three seasons ago, I have been faithful to you. When I left the caravan with her, my only intent was to get her safely to the next train." He paused, brushing the drying strands of hair from his face. "My cousins are idiots and you should know better than to heed the garbage that spills from between their teeth. I am not trying to make light of the kiss..." he hated hearing himself say it, "...and I will not insult you with foolish defenses. I am a proud man, Kash. But I am not so proud that I cannot see when I have failed. I would never intentionally harm you or Khiara. There is no man who rides the grass of Cyphrus who has finer wives that you and Khi, and I am a petching fool for even contemplating betraying your love and trust. " He took a tentative step forward, his eyes fixed on the small woman who held such sway over his heart.

[Kashik]

Kashik sat quietly as her husband entered the tent, seeing the lines of anger in the way he held himself, the glowering stare he sent her way. She may not have been looking at him, but she still felt it. Secretly watched him through the fall of dark lashes as he undressed, and though she appreciated the glorious form of Vanator's body, it did not assuage her own temper - he was beautiful, and yet that now worked against her, for what woman could say she did not crave such a man?

When he stood before her with his hands on his hips, still obviously fuming, she had to force herself to stillness. Just wait, she thought, remembering the lessons her mother taught her when she was younger - not just idle bits of advice on what marriage would be like, but the more in-depth political training in how to win an argument. It had served her well in all walks of her life, assuming she could keep her temper in check long enough to think. Just wait, and let him see you, and think on it. You have made your argument, and there is no need to repeat it. He will convince himself that your points are valid. If you give a good man enough time, he will see his own wrongs. Just wait.

Time seemed to stretch out into an eternity, with only the sounds of her fingers twisting her wet curls into submission. Finally he sighed - and she was so relieved that she almost sighed as well. She had gaged him correctly. He was a good man.

Her hands settled into her lap as he spoke, curling around her stomach in what had become a habitual motion. The apology got a flutter of lashes, though she didn't yet look at him. When he finished, she sat for a few moments and stared down at herself, at the child she carried for him, for them both. They would have to learn how to get through these things in their marriage. He was a man, and though he was a good man he was still just a man. She couldn't bruise his ribs every time his eyes strayed, though if he'd slept with the Konti she might well have given him a few scars to wear around Endrykas. But there were other ways to make him understand, and to help stick his resolve when confronted with temptation.

She pushed herself up to her feet, eyes still cast downward, and brushed past him a moment. He might have thought she was leaving, had rejected, his apology, but she simply grabbed up a dry towel from their belongings and returned to stand beside him. Gently, carefully, she began drying the rainwater from his skin. First his left shoulder, then his back, then around to the other shoulder. "I do not think you go looking for women," she murmured finally, drying off his side and probing the already-spreading bruise with careful fingers to assure herself that she'd broken nothing. "But you are a handsome man, husband. There will be women, many women, who wish to share your bed or even just a kiss. You were long unmarried, and perhaps have not relearned how to suppress your desires," she said with a soft shrug of a shoulder as she circled around him to blot the rain from his chest. The hard rigidity of his muscles set a flutter to her stomach that had nothing to do with the child in her womb. Still, though, she kept her eyes down. She still had not looked at him.

"You are not the only one to do so, though, so it is not a great thing I ask of you. I would not dally with another man," she said softly, working the now-damp cloth along his arms, "because I know how deeply it would wound your heart were I to do so. You are my husband, and since our vows were made my body is meant only for you. I know you would not wish me to let another man take me in his arms, or put his rough hands on my skin. You would not wish another man to slip his fingers into my hair... and press his lips against mine as he drew me close."

Her soft words were meant to incite his jealousy and stir the passionate heart that she knew beat within him. Perhaps to punish him a little more for betraying her, or to drive home to him what she felt when she learned of it - and vivid images of Vanator danced behind her eyelids, some white-skinned beauty clinging to him. Were he to ask Kashik, she wouldn't have rightly been able to say. But just because her voice was soft and her touch gentle did not mean that her blood was not thundering in her veins, still full of aborted fury and jealousy. It was why she averted her eyes - because if he looked into them, he would see that fire within her, would see that she wanted nothing more than to kiss the taste of that other woman's lips off of his and claw her love for him into his skin so he would never, ever forget again.

[Vanator]

Vanator made no excuses and laid what amounted to an apology at the feet of the woman seated before him. Kashik, garbed in her soft linen, seated quietly on her pillows idly braiding her hair, eyes downcast, was the supreme opposite of the obscenity spewing, spear swinging, confrontational spitfire that had assaulted him in the rain less than a bell ago. But Vanator knew his Diamond Clan wife well. She may have appeared demure, but there was something about her, an undertone in the tent that she controlled. Kash knew she had him by the stones, and now, having vented her fury on him verbally and physically, she was going to begin her mental corrections. She still refused to meet his gaze, but it was not the averted glance of one in submission, it was meant to deny him acknowledgment, to deprive him of any insight into her heart and mind. Her mother had taught her well, Vanator thought, and with great patience the scorned wife made her errant husband wait. The husband's heart pounded as he waited to see his wife's response. But none came. Finally Kashik rose to her feet, and he watched silently as she brushed past him without a word. It stung, and his temper cooled, for even as she tormented him with her silence, he knew he did not have a leg to stand on before her wrath. Then she returned with quiet footsteps, and Van stood still as she dried him. His eyes fixed on Kashik even as hers remained lowered, feeling perplexed by her ministrations. She was breathtaking, even without the glow of her bright eyes or smile. Her touch was ironically gentle, and as she carefully brushed the towel over his damp skin, his heart softened and he fell again under her sway. He listened as she spoke, her even, soft tone somehow still conveyed her disappointment. Maybe even more so than the yelling. He winced as she gently touched his side where she had struck him with the shaft of her spear. Then she jabbed him with a strike that stung more than the crushing blow of her weapon. As she described herself with another man, his hands on her, his lips against hers, his guts tightened and a incessant fire rose up within him. To think of her with another man made him burn with such jealously that his breath quickened and his fists clenched. Then he saw it, or felt it, and he knew what it must have been like for his wives to hear of their husband being with another woman. Vanator's heart sunk, his own anger gone, his gut twisted with regret. No, he had not slept with Satu, and many would consider one kiss relatively harmless. But he had broken a trust, violated what he had solemnly given to them. Van looked down at Kashik, so beautiful, full of life, her own and their child's. She had given her life and hopes to him. A terrible guilt gripped him. He had the two most magnificent wives in Endrykas, why would he consider any other? He took Kashik's hands in his, looking at her dark, downcast face. "Kash, look at me. The thought of another man's hands on you..." He paused, that dire anger stoking again, "...even just a kiss, tears at my soul. Such a man would never breathe another breath. I am so sorry I put you through this Kash, you and Khiara. As a man, I will do what I believe I must do, but I will never cause you to question me again. My love, my honor and my body belongs to you and Khiara alone." Van raised one of the young woman's hands to his lips and pressed a kiss to it.

[Kashik]

Kashik saw his jaw clench and his hands curl into angry fists with a certain amount of satisfaction. Now he knew. He understood. And he would know better next time some whore threw themselves at him.

When he finished speaking, she finally looked up at him through a flutter of dark lashes - then stared full into his gold-flecked eyes, and he would see what he'd known was there. Anger, true, and a throbbing passion that few beyond the Drykas could encompass, raging beneath the surface of her dark skin like a thunderstorm about to break.

"As does your heart," she whispered, voice low and hoarse with her emotions, "and your soul. And it is not my hand I want you to kiss."

With that, her hand curled around the side of his throat, fingers pressing against his skull and dragging him down. Her mouth crashed against his, fierce and hot, and she kissed him as if she'd been waiting years to do so instead of the mere week he'd delayed. It was territorial, a reclaiming of him, and her other arm rose to twine around his neck as well as she clung to him and reminded him exactly why he'd given his body to her.