The colors of our words (Abashai)

[Daeva Timandre]

15th of Winter 510AV There was a beauty in solitude. Being away from the confines of civilization brought an astounding peace that elevated the thought process; brought blankets of woven thoughts into the consciousness and pushed to the surface ideas and questions and revelations that, at the time, were hidden under a core of miniscule and unnecessary detail. Out here, where the wilds thrived and the world survived in a primitive yet effective state, Daeva felt most at home. In silence, in wholesome peace, where the hardened emotions of others were not so apparent and tugged at her psyche. The sky was a swirl of analagous colors; oranges and reds and yellows, with a splash of red violet or a dash of pearl white. Storm clouds were congregating in the northern sky, a foreboding sign for those out treading in the wilds alone, as one such individual was. The blue skinned Akontak was trekking the woods for the better part of the day, trailing after every kill Masou made, and hanging the critters on her belt for a feast. Most were hares, others, squirrels, but all were edible as long as she found a place that would be sufficiently sheltered from the storm. Small droplets of the first rains splashed onto her shoulders and hair, and Daeva cursed her luck. It would be just our luck to have a storm pass through at this time, Daeva growled, sloshing through soaked bushes and scattered foliage. The rain poured relentlessly, soaking the akontak to the bone. Rivulets of waters dripped from her chin and hair, as her eyes scouted the perimeter for signs of shelter. The water was not what disturbed her. She was, for all purposes, half Konti. The nature of the white women was their wholesome love of water. She was just a part of it has her skin was blue, and for the gills on her neck that have long since been devoid of liquid, it was a refreshing change. The wolf at her side bounded off ahead, having caught sight of something Daeva had yet to see. It was only Citlali's voice that assured her of the find. A cave up ahead. It looks vacant, the light twin said softly, as Daeva wove her way around fallen trunks now drowning in water and the telltale signs of thunder cracking through the skys not far away. As the akontak approached the natural shelter, Daeva found Masou shaking the remains of the water from his coat. She stepped under the low overhang and settled herself on the driest portion near the entrance, as the rest of the cave seemed to lead further into darkness. Hopefully this storm will be over soon so we may continue on our journey, Citlali said, as Daeva began gathering up spare twigs to begin the makings of a makeshift fire. The storm is the least of my worries.

[Abashai]

Nya was in good spirits. The couple had wandered from the main roads, sticking to deer trails or even blazing their own path through the woodlands. The further Nya and Abashai wandered from civilization, the longer time spent in the wilds and in Nya's presence, the more feral the Benshiran's behavior became. It was a curious side effect of their bonding, and it's effect multiplied by the peculiar nature of their life-bond. The forest cat's instincts and basic needs would begin to become his as well. When Nya and Shai spent too long in the city, the Kelvic grew restless and unhealthy as she succumbed to his human nature. So the bonded pair strove to maintain a balance, though necessity often made that difficult. Having made camp, Nya had been espcecially excited as the winds picked up and the cat smelled rain in the air. Abashai tried to join her elation, though the desert man still had not grown fond of cold, wet weather. But Nya would already know he cringed at the thought of a winter rain, and had suggested he find some shelter to commune with his lord. Her husband had eyed her lunch of raw rabbit hungrily, and she knew the human needed some civil activity to suppress her instincts within him. Abashai agreed, knowing his Stormwarden wife was going to dance with Zulrav's winds, and meet with her divine master. Nya had smelled wolf in the area, and had warned him sternly to be on guard. Shai had taken a small arsenal with him, and with his mail shirt beneath his long coat and scroll case in hand, headed out to find a place to worship Yahal. He traveled some distance, ensuring the shared awareness of the bond was muted, allowing each some privacy while communicating with their patron deities. The trees bereft of their leaves, opening the forest canopy to the open sky, offered little shelter for Abashai as the droplets of rain began to descend. He grumbled something in Shiber, and turned instead towards a slope, hope to find some rock to hide beneath. Then the sky opened up, unleashing sheets of rain. Trudging through the wet, leaf strewn forest floor, water drenching his long black, curly mane, Abashai spotted a stony outcropping in the slope ahead. He trotted closer, seeing a low overhang with a dark entrance. He drew closer cautiously, straining to see through the pouring rain into the opening to determine if it were occupied. There was movement, human in form, and he halted in his steps. The deep-skinned figure worked at some task, seemingly unaware of his arrival, the man most likely concealed by the haze of falling rain, drowning out his footsteps and washing away the scent of leather and exotic spices. The chill of the cold rain was reaching his bones, and he desperately longed for the hot, dry sand of Eyktol. But the Burning Lands were thousands of leagues and what seemed a lifetime away. So, if he were to escape the wretched rain, this hole would have to do...if it would be shared. Strangers were dangerous, and he and Nya had enemies who were devious and resourceful. But, as a chill shuddered through his body, the desert man was ready to move in with the Ebonstryfe if it meant getting out of the cursed freezing downpour. Abashai lifted his voice above the din of the rain shower, and in heavily-accented Common spoke. "You there, is there room for one more?" His hand hovered near the sword hilt at his side, muscles poised to move quickly if necessary.

[Daeva Timandre]

The fire crackled in earnest. Sparks of charred wood landed on the dirt floor, but the stench of blood was thick in the air, if only dampened by the incessant rain. Daeva had been hard at work skinning several hares and setting aside the skins for whatever she could think up for them later. The stomachs she gutted and fed the insides to Masou, who gladly devoured them. It wasn’t the most pleasant process, but a necessary one. At least the akontak would be fed, should the storm prove to last longer than she hoped. It was while the hares were cooking on a makeshift spit that Daeva heard the voice of a man over the rainfall. She glanced up, immediately activating her auristics and aimed it at the source of the sound. What met her eyes were a swirl of hues ranging from purple to blue. She wasn’t experienced enough to discern information besides the relative hesitance he seemed to exude. And when there was hesitance there was a man that would likely do no harm. Daeva was hardly convinced. He seems to be alone, or we could have picked up on it, Citlali suggested, Perhaps a wanderer caught in a storm such as ourselves. We could share our fire. And get shanked in the night? Your stupid sense of kindness is going to get us killed someday, Citlali. Daeva retorted. Ah, but you enjoy conflict, and I know you enjoy fighting. Give it a shot. Daeva smiled. Her sister-soul was right; a fight was what she often craved. To slice her suvai and shed blood. Not too often, but often enough that she would most likely relish the opportunity. So the dark twin switched her auristics off and gripped her suvai in both hands, just in case. “There’s plenty of room,” Daeva called back, “It’s a pretty big cave after all. Hurry up and come inside, if I’m to have a visitor I don’t want it being a sick one.”

[Abashai]

As Abashai waited for an invitation to take shelter, small wisps of smoke wafted from the cave to dissipate in the heavy rain, and glimpses of a warm glow could be seen through the sheets of precipitation. The voice that soon drifted from the dim opening was female, but nothing else about the speaker could be determined. The occupant's offer sounded welcoming, but it was with caution that the Benshiran approached the stone opening. The man drew near, his hand drawing away from the sword at his side, indicating no intent to harm whomever dwelt inside. Abashai ducked just far enough under the overhang to escape the downpour. He was dripping wet, his dark curly mane stuck to his tattooed face, water running in rivulets down his coat. Then he saw his host. A chill of surprise ran down his spine to his gut at the sight of the woman. Though the cave's illumination was dim, the man could see that she was beautiful...and blue, like the Akalak's of Riverfall. But she could not have been an Akalak, because he was told they were all males. With a cascading white mane and eyes like burnished metal shields, the Benshiran could not help but stare. She was at least as tall as he was, and lacked the soft curves of most women. Her limbs were lean and muscled like the Nya's. As he took a quick look around the cave, Shai noted the distinct odor of wet fur, burning wood and a hint of blood hung in the heavy air. A low growl drew Abashai's gaze further into the shadowy cave, where what looked like a wolf sat feeding. The drenched traveler stood still, unwilling to give the animal reason to consider him a threat. Then his crystal blue-green eyes returned to the strange woman. "I appreciate you sharing your shelter, I will stay out of your way." Abashai skirted around the woman and her fire, opposite of the wolf. He leaned the cylindrical leather scroll case against the wall, unfastened the belts around him and likewise leaned a khopesh and longsword against the stone next to the scrolls. Next he removed his wet longcoat and laid in on a rock further back in the cave. A pair of daggers remained thrust through his belt, and the handle of a third jutted from the top of his right boot. The Benshiran ruffled his hair with his hands, a spray of water spreading out around him, just out of reach of the others. Peering from the corner of his eye, he studied the woman and her wolf. A very curious pair. He was full of questions, but he understood that some did not take kindly to probing inquiries, including himself. Some, like Grace, the woman he had met some five days before, had managed to pry quite a bit out of him. "I have not met many this far from the road." Abashai would not let on about Nya, not yet at least. "And I must admit, I have not come across one of...your kind before."

[Daeva Timandre]

Daeva waited impatiently as the stranger made up his mind to enter the cavern. The rain pelted harder than ever outside; an incessant thrum. In fact, she was so caught up with his entrance that she’d forgotten the hares on the spit, and the smell of burning meat incited quick action from the akontak, who pulled them off the fire before they turned a harsh shade of black. “Petch!” She hissed, ignoring the man for the duration of the time she was salvaging her dinner. Setting them aside on a long length of cloth, Daeva turned to scrutinize the new stranger. He may have not looked as exotic as she did, but he was not a man she’d call a native from these parts. Black haired, dark-skinned and tattooed. His whole image felt like it came straight from a folk legend, and for the moment, Daeva was intrigued. It looks like this traveler was armed to the teeth, the dark twin commented with a smirk, If he’s hostile and we’re on the verge of death, I’m blaming your ass. Look at him, Citlali retorted, he’s displaying the weapons he has, you think if he meant to attack us he’d remove all of his arms? Ask him where he comes from, he’s obviously not of this region. This is a great chance to learn more. The light twin hardly hid her pursuit of knowledge and understanding. She was a Timandre in more ways than one, and on more than one occasion it annoyed the shyke out of Daeva. Masou’s ears perked at the sound of an unfamiliar guest, but the akontak’s molten silver eyes glanced over the stranger, absently lowering her suvai. His question caught her off guard, and she quirked a brow in response, “Such a pleasant way to put it. ‘One of my kind.’ Do you mean an Akalak or a Konti?” Don’t be a wise ass, Citlali scolded, He’s trying to be polite and you’re ruining it-- again. Daeva rolled her eyes, “Not often does one meet a person out in the wilds who doesn’t have ill intents. Such a shame really, but it’s the best place to hide from prying eyes. Where are you from, stranger? I’ve never seen a human like you before.”

[Abashai]

Abashai carefully opened his cylindrical leather container, ensuring the contents had not been exposed to moisture. The old scrolls appeared dry and he sealed the tube and laid it back against the wall, Turning when he heard the woman curse, Shai watched the stranger scurry to save her scorched meal. The singed hares filled the cave with the aroma of burnt meat. At one time that scent would have been rather enticing to the Benshiran. But over the past year, Nya's eating habits had worn off on her mate, finding that he preferred his meat rarer and rarer until he could eat it still bloody. Once the food was salvaged, the blue-colored woman replied and Abashai began to understand. Konti and Akalak. Looking again at her as she prepared the meat, he could see it now. "Well, yes, I have met both Konti and Akalak in Syliras. I have never seen the result of their union." In fact, the woman seemed to possess the finest physical attributes of both her parent's races. Her flesh was a deep azure, smooth and contoured with lean muscle. She had the stature of her father, as tall or taller than the Benshiran himself. Closer observation revealed the hint of scintillating scales, and the subtle flaps of gills at her neck. And, like every Konti he had encountered, she was beautiful. A bolt of lightning illuminated the cavern's entrance in a blinding white flash, followed immediately by an earth-shaking tremble of thunder. Shai glanced outside, unable to see much past the curtain of falling rain. It showed no sign of letting up. Apparently he would be in the company of the traveler for a while. His attention then returned to the curious woman. They had pretty much established that those that traveled the Wildlands usually had their reasons. The man had his reasons, and he was sure the exotic Akontak had hers. Abashai caught a glimpse of her silvery irises. "I can guarantee you my intentions are not malevolent. But Its true, these are good lands to lose one's self." He left the subject there. He gave her credit, though she seemed non-chalant, the Akontak surely was not overly trusting. Abashai had not missed the suvai the woman had wielded, but she resigned it when her burning dinner seemed more threatening then him. The desert man tried to read deeper into her actions, but her unusual features and stunning bright eyes defied any attempt to gauge the her intent. The dark man's blue-green gaze darted to the wolf before returning to the mixed-blood to answer her question. "I am a Benshiran, from Eyktol." He had left the desert only three years earlier, but it seemed a lifetime had passed. In all that had transpired in those years, the bizarre and tragic, euphoric and confounding, the fact that he was still Benshiran, and more so marked by Yahal, had been a thread that kept him sane. With a disarming smile, the man offered an introduction. "I am called Abashai."