[Flashback] A willing pain (Sulavik)

[Irriari]

1st Day of Fall, in the Year 510AV

Irriari stared to the west, and she could see the outlines of the cliffs upon which many homes were built, and the Akalak lived. It was known as Riverfall, and every one of her kind had come to fear the city and the blue skinned race that made their living among the waterfalls. Survival urged her to leave this place, and quickly, for she could be kidnapped, tortured or worse. There was no end to the voice in her head that screamed at her, echoing the Elders sentiments so very loudly. But she would not leave. The voices vanished when she focused on the sounds of the rushing, foamy water and the thick swaying grasses and Irriari smiled.

She came here once a season to remind herself that her enemies did exist, and that she was not as invincible as many others thought they were. Her race were far from gods even if they could touch the skies. Her den had beaten her after the first trip and were convinced it would be her last, but she kept on season after season until the beatings stopped and nothing but angry looks remained. There was so much beauty in this place, and though she did not often ponder such things, Irriari wondered what it would be like if the Zith were to live among the rocks and water, with the Akalak completely gone. There would be no need for pathways that would wind up the cliffs, and they could fly over the water every morning without fear. It would be easily defensible and big enough to hold many caverns that could be tunneled into the cliffs. But such things were not meant to be, and Irriari shook her head once and stood up slowly.

After checking her bow string, Irriari prepared to leave. It would be too difficult to leave this place now, so she refused to look at the breath taking land as the sun set so perfectly at her back. She knew the dangers of pausing, even for a moment. Every step away would be agony and she would convince herself to stay another hour. She had already toyed with fate for long enough today. It was time to go back to the cavern and face the inevitable insults and looks. She hardly had the patience for it anymore.

[Sulavik]

oocSO SORRY FOR THE DELAY. <3333 Sulavik oftentimes, on the first of a season, went out for a walk. That was it. Just a walk. Just because he happened to be strolling through one of the most dangerous places on Mizahar did not mean he was looking for trouble, of course. If trouble turned up, it had nothing to do with the fact that he was bored and restless in Riverfall. Of course not. He was just happily dawdling through the treacherous Sea of Grass. That was all. Riverfall was BORING. He had noticed before, of course, all throughout his life. The Akalaks, for all their issues, were a boring calm race. Despite their superior strength and size, they did not fight one another or even kill. They did not fight over women. They did not even really get drunk. Even though it was a major port, they did not really get involved in the messy affairs of sailors. They did nothing really, but sit around and hope that angry part of them didn't hold a mutiny. Sulavik had noticed more and more, the more aware he became that he was quite a different Akalak, but the more and more he drifted from his race ... the more and more life got boring. So he strolled a lot. And if he happened to kill a glassbeak or an olidosaplux or a velispar every so often, well, that was just icing on the cake. But this season he felt would be different ... he was becoming more and more aware of his growing attraction to the hard planes of pectorals rather than the soft curves of a Nakivak. This season would be different, and what better way to start it off than a lovely stroll around the city ending in a violent battle to the death against nature? There was a black dot in the distance, and it was tall - for a human. It was certainly not Akalak, and its mass seemed too expansive to be a regular human. And what would a regular human be doing out here anyway? Sulavik began to edge closer through the sea, trying to get closer to this mysterious figure, just to identify. As he crept, a hand flickered to his side, where the hilt of his Lakan stood strong. Wrapping a calloused hand around it, he pulled it out into the open and approached the figure, point first. As he crept, he stumbled over a spare root - though of what, he had no idea, for there were no trees. He tumbled to the ground with a cry of "PETCH!", groaning as the hilt slammed into his ribs. Surely that had attracted the creature's attention. Whatever it was, Sulavik was apparently going to find out soon.

[Irriari]

Irriari had only taken a few steps when she heard noise. Maybe the grasses were taunting her now, knowing that she wished to stay. But, as always, she focused on the noise, knowing it could be the difference between life and death. A voice came from behind her, cursing, and a loud thud followed. It was all she needed to hear.

Irriari turned on her left heel and pivoted, then spread her wings and flew a few feet up into the air. It was the most defensible position she had for unknown circumstances, and it had hardly ever failed her in the past. Her eyes scanned the grasses, trying to locate the sound of the noise. After a few agonizing seconds, she located the origin of the disturbance- an Akalak male. She was worried, but her hand instinctively went to her back, to grab an armor piercing arrow out of her quiver. While the warrior may not be wearing armor, her arrow would tear through his muscle easily enough. She could have shot him then, and probably hit something vital if she steadied her nerves, but she didn't.

Why had he fallen? Was he too lost in his thoughts to pay attention? What was he doing here? She narrowed her eyes at the figure in the grass and exhaled slowly, knowing that she would have to calm herself if it came down to a fight. Fear washed over her, slowly, in trickling lines. Her race rarely killed the blue warriors alone, one versus one. They were too strong and too skilled. So she waited, unsure if the choice that was uncharacteristic of her race would cost her her very life.

[Sulavik]

oocAnd again, a delay. I apologise. Sulavik thudded his head down onto the ground with a groan. Whatever it was, it surely had noticed. He didn't feel any rush to hurry up and get the upper hand again, for surely it had already reacted to his presence. He would probably look up to find a sword's tip pointed at his throat. He groaned and thudded his forehead onto the ground again. Why the petch had he chosen to skive off his father's stealth lessons? He had rejected them, proud, feeling that an Akalak could walk tall anywhere he wish - and he was rather tall and bulky. He felt he would have the upper hand in intimidation, so what was the point of stealth? But it was times like this he really wished he had paid attention, and gained a fuller education. With his Lakan still clutched in his fist, he pushed up from the ground, crouching with a sigh and massaging the place where his hilt had slammed into his ribs. That would certainly leave a bruise there the next morning. He was almost hesitant to look up, hesitant to see whatever it was he might have offended. Clearly, it was sentient. If it were a beast of the Sea, it would have charged or screeched or run away. but this being was silent and surely on edge. With a sigh, realising he could delay no longer, he looked up slowly. "Petch my petching life," Sulavik groaned in Tukant, as he saw the Zith hovering above him. She was regular for her race, and his eyes narrowed as he appraised all potential threats she held. She was already in the air, batting her long wings to keep her above Sulavik as he still sat. He groaned as he saw the quiver and bow, knowing that any second she could shoot him down, and he wondered why he hadn't. Slowly, his mind tried to think of a way to manage this. He could throw the Lakan directly at her face, but she would just shoot him down, and his aim wasn't very good anyway. He got hesitantly to his feet, his hands out stretched in a gesture of peace, though the Lakan was still clutched in his hand. When he was standing up fully, he rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. He had never been in a situation when a Zith hadn't attacked outright. He needed to play this carefully. "I'm assuming you don't speak Tukant," he said slowly in Common. "I don't speak Zithanese, so, Common it is." He smiled awkwardly, then realised he was smiling at a Zith. Not only was he a gay Akalak, but he also seemed to be buddies with a Zith now. Whaaaat. "What do you want?" It was not intended to be an abrasive question, and his tone was soothing. He just wanted to know how to deal with the Zith flying before him.

[Irriari]

Irriari watched the Akalak carefully, making sure to note every move and muscle twitch. A short arm movement here and a leg shifting a few seconds later could mean death. All those small movements, when combined could give the warrior just enough leverage to get his weapon out from underneath him and he would be primed for an attack in an instant. It was a scary thought, to be sure. Her race had never been as quick as the blue skinned race, no matter how hard they trained. While the Elders blamed the lack of 'real training', Irriari guessed it was most likely a difference in their races. The all male species was simply stronger and faster than hers, though they lacked wings, which she thought was sad at times, if only because they would never feel the winds and air as she did. In truth, if the akalak had wings, she feared they would be unstoppable. Without a doubt their training would encompass both land and sky, and her own race would be decimated in their wake.

She refocused her attention on the man when he began shifting slightly. He seemed more agitated than anything. Perhaps he was angry over the fall? His movements didn't seem to indicate any type of aggression as he rubbed his ribs slowly and raised his head up off the grass.

He spoke in Tukant, or another language, but it was all jargon to her. He paused for a bit longer and Irriari was seriously questioning whether this male was an akalak at all. Maybe he was a cleverly painted human, to act so oddly? Did he not know that they were enemies? Maybe he was like her. Different. Irriari firmly believed that weapons had a time and place, and while she rarely hesitated to kill an akalak, this one amused her.

He addressed her finally, in Common. It was refreshing to hear, and she considered his words before replying. While he seemed cautious, he was funny and oddly enough he smiled at her. The gesture alone convinced her that he must be human, or else very high on some hallucinogenic drug. Regardless, the whole situation was getting weirder by the second, and she knew that she would rather be here than at the colony where no one would smile, aside from her loyal slaves. At long last, after a bit of waiting of her own, she spoke.

“I don't know. I was walking home. I should probably listen to my gut, and shoot you, but you smiled at me, so now I don't know what I want, or what I want to do.”

Irriari uttered the words without thinking, and the completely candid confession shocked her. Where was the harshness and the anger that should have dripped from every word? She shifted slightly in the air, but didn't drop down to the grass, not yet. Her reactions were so different, and she wanted to make sure this akalak was not trying to trick her out of a desperate attempt to save his skin. Still, his reactions seemed genuine enough so she would simply have to wait this one out.

[Sulavik]

Sulavik waited, all tension and nerves, and if he was honest with himself, a little bit of curiosity. The Zith took her time in reacting to his words, and she hovered silently above him for a long, pregnant pause after he had spoken. If they had been standing, both of them, Sulavik would have towered over her - but despite her short stature, it was clear she had the superiority in the situation, at least physically. Not only could she fly above him, but she had a bow and arrow. She could shoot him down in an instant. He wondered why she didn't. This was a game he would have to play very carefully. He raised one arm, almost subconciously, and scratched the back of his neck in an innocent gesture. It was only then he realised that the gesture could have looked threatening to her - so he put it down again. For some strange reason, one which Sulavik himself could not decipher, he felt no amniosity towards this Zith. She was different to the others of her kind, just like he was different to the others of his. His awkward, half smile remained plastered on his face while he looked at her - partially in an appeasing effort, but mainly because she genuinely intriuged him. Sulavik stilled at her words, genuinely bemused. For all the answers he could have gotten, he had not expected a moral dilemma to be the thing standing between him and death. As far as he knew from his brief encounters with Zith, they did not have morals. At least, the ones he had killed before had not. They had been more interested in aiming straight for the jugular. He kept the smile up - he told himself it was because of survival, but really the smirk was one of interest - and answered her carefully. "And..." he said, clearly, carefully - enunciating every letter. "Why did my smile stop you from my death? I'd like to know, so I can try it out on other angry Zith." He tried a grin here, and a joke, hoping it would endear him all the more to her. He followed it up with a compliment. "You know, you are a VERY pretty Zith. How lovely and ... furry your wings are!" His smile held for a second, before he sighed and shook his head. He looked at her, and there was no smirk on his face. There was no false joviality in his expression. There was a true and honest vulnerability. It carried through in his voice. "Look, I'm not good at this talking thing. Thanks, I guess, for not killing me straight away. I don't really know how to handle this ... can't say I've ever been in a cordial conversation with a Zith before, if I'm honest." He hoped candidness would have the same effect on her as his gentle smile had. "I don't really mind that I am having one now, either. Won't your brethren get angry, though?"

[Irriari]

Irriari watched the blue skinned warrior and gazed into his eyes, looking for any sign of trickery so she could shoot him and pin him to the earth. She found no such signs, though his eyes were truly quite expressive. Maybe it was because she had never looked at the eyes of an Akalak before. On a battle field she looked at their muscles, weapons and feet. All provided numerous tells about the next lunge or feint her opponent might try. His eyes did not shift or suddenly fill with anger as she had expected them to, so for now he seemed to be fine.

Everything about the Akalak intrigued her. His demeanor was far different from those she had met in fights. Often, the Elders told her that the children of Wysar saw the world as black and white, and the Zith were the epitome of black. They were evil, and with the Akalak one should always strike first no matter how kind or innocent the target looked. With the Akalak good intentions did not exist, the Elders had lectured. One second of hesitation could mean an eternity of nothingness as that was all it took for a lakan to pierce her chest.

The man joked lightly with her and she nearly caught herself smiling at his joke. Oh the looks she would get if anyone found out about this. But it didn't matter. He was being candid with her and she appreciated the honest and non judgmental communication. Irriari's hands clenched on her bow and the zith's eyes nearly popped out of her head when the Akalak called her pretty. While she knew the meaning of the word, it was typically a compliment reserved for humans. Among her people it would be a grave insult both to ones pride and appearance. The warrior was keeping her off balance if nothing else. She sighed and waited for him to continue talking.

Now, the Akalak was speaking plainly, without the fake smiles or over done compliments. Some where during the words she caught a thank you and was pleased by it, though she didn't know why. It was humble gesture for a race who fought till the very end, and she had never expected to hear anything like it in her life time. He also didn't mind the conversation, which, at this point seemed obvious. Irriari knew that she didn't mind it either. More time in the grasses and a new experience were far better than a night in the den. She shifted her bow to her left hand to give her primary a rest and then spoke.

“I don't mind it either, for some reason. Yes, my den would be angry, and every protocol we have says I should kill you now, steal your belongings and take your corpse back to the colony to feast on, but I haven't. Yet. I could ask the same of you. What are you doing out here, in the Sea of Grass talking to me?”

[Cayenne]

Shame it ended so soon. I enjoyed it. I hereby award the following: Wilderness Survival: 1 XP Observation: 3 XP Intimidation: 1 XP Interrogation: 1 XP Lore: Reminders Can Hurt Lore: Being Suckered Into Hesitation