[The Wildlands] Amazing Grace (Closed, Grace)

[Abashai]

Abashai had revealed the stories behind his marks with some enthusiasm, even to the curious stranger, for they each held great significance to him. The benshiran did not address the two thin scars on his palms, of equal length and carefully positioned as to not mar the marks of his god. That was another story. He leaned back after Grace had seemed to finish her examination, dropping the strange viewing lens from her face. One eyebrow cocked as the young woman boasted a victory in their game of discovery. The she returned in kind, and the man's eyes narrowed as she revealed her own divine marking, draped across her neck and collarbone to her shoulder. He thought he had seen such before, though he did not know its significance. Qalaya. Yes, he had known of the goddess of historians and chroniclers, though he was not familiar with the details of her worship. Had he hazarded a guess, Abashai would certainly had chosen that particular deity as Grace's patron, for she seemed the epitome of the goddess' followers. But the woman was more than just a follower, she had drawn the attention of Qalaya, enough so to be marked. That was no small thing. Abashai empathized with the emotion Grace let slip through her softened tone and gleaming gray eyes. He had met gods also, too many, he sometimes thought. But he knew the feeling that entering the presence of your own divine being left upon your soul, and he saw that in a flash of Grace's gaze. He counted that small revelation his own small victory, and a smile stretched across his face as the charming woman confessed as much. Though her next question was not targeted at a particular piece of information. Grace's inquiry struck Abashai as deeply personal, for it addressed something of constant concern for the benshiran. Vulnerability. He had spent years building defenses around himself to ensure he was not vulnerable. The shame, guilt and anger of the incidents in Yahal drove him into the desert, a lonely place where he could harden his heart and hide behind the virtues and traditions of his people. Physically and emotionally, he carefully nurtured his ability to defend himself from harm. Then he met Nya. She was persisent. She did not understand why he hid his past, would not open up to her, would not respond to her advances. But she did not give up. He fell in love with her, and, little by little, Abashai had allowed himself to be vulnerable to her. But only her. The information he had revealed to Grace in their strategic conversation had been carefully doled out. As his trust in her grew, so did the intimacy of his revelations. But the woman should not be mistaken, he told himself. He would not reveal anything that would endanger himself or Nya, or the task with which they performed. Abashai leaned in closer to Grace. "We are always vulnerable, to an extent. For my personal comfort, perhaps I do feel somewhat vulnerable, if only in the fact that you may learn to predict my behavior, or more dangerously, believe falsely that you can. There is a delight in this, I think we both will confess. But as you learn what makes me vulnerable, I will tell you, your vulnerability will deepen, as will the possible consequence." Abashai had lost his smile. He tone was not stern, but hinted an admonition. Shai believed that his words would most likely not deter Grace, for he had a feeling she was no stranger to confronting danger to discover her truths. But if she managed to charm out of him about Nya, about the quest, there could indeed be trouble for the archeologist. Shai turned the conversation again towards Grace. A smile returning to his lips, leaning back in his seat more casually. "Tell me, when have you been your most vulnerable?" It was an equally personal question, a test to see if this persistent woman was going to go places they both hesitated to tread.

[Grace]

With every question, the stakes grew higher, for her, and by the progression of emotions on the Benshiran's face, for him as well; Discovery at its best. She watched and listened as his voice and carriage adopted a serious complexion and she was beginning to see, the two of them were the same kind of animal, and their secrets were sacred. But as you learn what makes me vulnerable, I will tell you, your vulnerability will deepen, as will the possible consequence. Whether intentional or not, Grace did not overlook the thinly veiled warning. Her eyes narrowed a bit before flashing with curious hunger that made her want to dig deeper, the more there was to hide, the less she was inclined to back away. Consequence. That word played over in her head as she once again made herself comfortable, relaxed and casual in the face of his warning. "Indeed. But I would hardly be a seeker of truth if the first sign of resistance turned me away from my path." She lifted her chin a fraction, wearing a look in her eyes that showed a hint of her history. The defenses around this woman were far to rich and well constructed to be anything other than the product of her repeated vulnerability and her attempts to combat it. "I have been vulnerable, and most certainly will be again, but those things that are exposed to me in my state of being undone could prove more valuable than any treasure. In the end, after all, the information is my goal." Her hands moved to rest on the plane of her stomach as she leaned against a solid rock, and she considered the direction his question would take them. Her gaze strayed to Jasper, looking over the strong and simple image of the closet thing she had to a confidant. "Jasper I could predict. His needs are simple, and driven by hunger or thirst, or even need for attention." Her eyes shifted to look into Abashai's, her tone now as serious as his had become, but with the faint curl of that beguiling smile on her lips. "I would never assume that I might predict any -man's- next action. Any and all insight I have into you are things you've offered me Abashai." The way his name sounded coming from her lips was different than the rest of her words, each time, her speech slowed just a little to take great care in speaking his name. "If I find myself in a place of vulnerability, it will not be because I have assumed more than I can prove." Vulnerable, is it. There was a shift in her gaze, a small change that had she not been looking directly at the man, would have been unnoticeable. It was time for her to up the investment in this conversation, or move along, if the way through was a show of her vulnerability, as with everything she was fearless and would offer proof of her mistakes. Even in her exposure, Grace was in control of the information and detail that she let go. "Some years ago, I let a man into my trust." She paused, looking at Abashai for a moment. "And into my bed. My lesson in vulnerability came, when he decided what he really wanted was wealth. Or perhaps that had been his intention the entire time." Her gaze shifted to the ground, and the memories of the past shrouded around her like a thin fog. "He first came for me, I suppose between the two of us, I was still the weaker." She pulled aside the collar of her shirt, dragging it off her shoulder entirely, exposing the whole of her shoulder and just a hint of the pale expanse of her breast. From shoulder to near mid chest, an angry scar marred her smooth skin, looking as though it would have cut her heart in half. Her hand dropped back to her side letting the collar move back into place, but not enough to hide the brutal scar. "Had he met me in the light of day, and not in the safety of our bed, I would not have this, but as it stands.." She shrugged, clearly accepting the scar as a fact of her life. "With Henry, the blade cut from ear to ear. Probably a better approach to actually kill." Even her vulnerability was oddly factual, perhaps enough time had passed that she could look on it as a bystander rather than a participant. Though had Abashai been able to see the look in her eyes, he would know there was no deadening of the pain, in spite of the even tone of her voice. She nodded once, chewing on her upper lip. That was enough vulnerability she thought. The fate of the man, was not nearly as important to her as had been the fate of her father, but she closed the circle and told the Benshiran of him anyway. "He killed Henry, and I killed him. I think that was my most vulnerable." Finally, her eyes lifted to meet his. Any hint of her exposure gone, and that familiar smile once more lifting the corner of her full mouth. "There, you see. I am not unwilling to offer up any more than I ask of you." She closed the distance, her angry scar still peeking at him from the gap in the fabric of her shirt. She moved close enough that the stir caused by her movement passed over him like a light breeze, moving the long hair that framed his face. "In spite of the consequences.." Her movement had been the start of her pushing off the ground, and in the next moment she stood in front of him. "Let's take a walk." To get past, she had to step across his legs, which she did with the ease of a cat, emerging behind him, in need of some movement to get back to her place of internal comfort, though she would never tell him that. As she waited for him to join her, she straightened her clothes, moving her shirt to cover the scar. "What else would you like to know?"

[Abashai]

"But I would hardly be a seeker of truth if the first sign of resistance turned me away from my path." Was he offering resistance? Abashai did not see it as so. Grace simply had to navigate a channel rife with suspicions, cautions and steep inclines that would prove her worthy to gleen some insight into the closely guarded man's life. For it was not only he whose secrets were at stake. Nya was as much a part of him as an organ or a limb. Everything he did affected his bondmate. The consequences for Grace were many, not the least of which was garnering the jealous wrath of a giant Talderian Forest Cat. Abashai knew that Nya trusted him....others were not given the same benefit of the doubt. The benshiran's blue-green gaze held Grace's eyes as she reclined, appearing totally at ease despite the probing nature of their conversation. A satisfied grin lit his face as she spoke his name, for it she emphasized it smoothly. Even in the admission of her vulnerability, she spoke assuredly that such times of weakness, too, were opportunities she seized to gain what she wanted. Abashai pondered. Grace was a woman he would not wish to find as an adversary. Her mind, her will, were assets she had trained and refined to serve her, and she was quite comfortable in their use. If not, she was the most adept actress he had ever met. The man leaned forward ever so slightly, for he saw in her gray gaze a shadow, a door, or chapter, opening. He sensed the arena had changed, as if he had gained some of her confidence, and she was about to lower another of her series of metaphorical barriers. With quiet fascination Abashai listened to Grace tell her tale. The grim nature, the depth of its personal horror, shocked him, though he did not reveal it visibly. For a moment, the benshiran felt as if he stood on holy ground, that he had been given favor to witness this terrible truth about the woman. He examined the scar with his eyes only, not able to move for fear of disrupting the revelations he had been given. Some scars, Abashai admitted were attractive. Nya's body was covered with them. They helped to define who she was, a predator and a killer. On his wife, they were appealing. Abashai was unsure, but he may have blushed as Grace tugged at her blouse to reveal more of her flesh. But as the man studied the scar that tainted Grace's otherwise unblemished alabaster skin, it only spoke of a horrific event the woman had been forced to endure. Though the young woman may have believed Abashai would judge her for killing the man, instead he felt satisfaction. That man deserved death, and what better justice is there then for the victim to execute the punishment. To Shai, it was indeed a tragic, poetic justice. Still, he was in mild amazement at her confession. But the topic was effectively sealed by her demeanor, and Abashai simply accepted the gift of her honesty and said nothing more. Typical of Grace's enigmatic nature, in a flash the sobering atmosphere dissipated, and her smile returned. Her story, the exposure of both her secret and her skin, had proven to unbalance Abashai. So, as she leaned forward to stand, her face looming close to his, he flinched slightly, for an instant wondering if the woman aimed to steal a kiss. But her movement continued, and as she stood, Abashai shook off his discomfort and, once Grace stepped away, stood as well. He joined her, at her side, as the began a slow pace. The man was grateful to move. The change in venue relieved some of the tension that had built up as they sat so closely together. Suddenly, the conversation did not seem as adversarial, for they no longer faced off against each other as rivals defending their ground, and more as friends, discovering one another. "I am not sure how to respond, Grace. What happened to you was terrible, I am sorry...for your loss and your injury." He was sure the psychological wounds ran far deeper than her physical scar. "I will say, what you did speaks much of the strength of your character." Shai tucked his thumbs into his wide belt. "I would admit, I believe your tale of vulnerability exceeds anything I have revealed in personal depth. I am not sure I dare to ask more of you right now. Perhaps I owe you another secret. I told you after my parents were killed, I went to live in Yahebah. Would you have any interest in knowing why I left the city to wander the desert alone?" Abashai turned to look at Grace, offering her a sincere smile.

[Grace]

From his eagerness to stand, it seemed the Benshiran needed a respite from their exploratory tension as well, when he fell into step with her, there was a new feeling of ease and comfort that she'd hoped for, but not really expected. Her approach had more often than not succeeded in alienating people rather than drawing them closer, but most pleasantly, that did not seem to be the case here. As he spoke of his sadness for her loss, and the experience surrounding it, Grace was keen to listen for any tone of pity. That was the one regard she would not abide. Anger, hatred, fear, suspicion .. even indifference were within the scope of acceptance to her, but she could not resolve pity, and had she sensed it in Abashai's carriage, she very well may have driven a fist into his chin to rid him of it. Lucky for him. She smiled to herself, out of place, and seemingly in response to his condolences, she shook her head quickly to clear her head. "Thank you, it's been long enough that the sting has been replaced by a scar. Outwardly she spoke of the physical wound but the sentiment applied to the psychological pain as well... at least in appearance. She was a little surprised at his willingness to offer up more of himself rather than delve deeper into her past, but she was not one to pass on a gift. Perhaps her admission had sated all his curiosity about her; with a glance in his direction her doubts overtook that thought. He watched her still, attentively observing her movement, even in this more casual, easier rapport they'd created. If not lack of curiosity, perhaps he had such a sense of equal exchange, that he was compelled to bare his truth even though he held it safely inside a catacomb of defenses. Before he thought better of his offer, she betrayed her sincere interest in anything he chose to share. "Of course." Her smile had taken on a caste of comfort and relaxation, one she did not often expose. As it occurred to her that she may have let her guard slip too far, she took a quick glance back at her swords, still laying where she had been seated. Somehow, her interaction with Abashai had made her disregard basic rules that she lived by, this revelation was not one of comfort and made her body's alarms sound; a quickened heart, tiny hairs on her neck rising from her skin, and a tightness in her throat. Calm yourself, Gracie. It was the voice of her father sounding in her head, she looked back at the Benshiran, a hitch in her step slowing their forward momentum. As the signs of alarm began to fade, her analytical mind took over with a mixture of observances. Though he had done nothing to instill fear or suspicion in her, he was in reality, a stranger, one she may come to trust, but a stranger. Having regained her clarity, she left behind the thought of weapon, and subconsciously returned her defenses to alert. "Please, tell me your story." Two steps forward, one step back...such was life with Grace. Without conscious intent, she made the distance between them a little wider, setting her equal pace apart from that of the holy man. As they walked, she took note, that the length of their strides were perfectly matched. Interesting It seemed in ways both physical and mental, Abashai was a most competent and challenging counterpart, a thought that both thrilled her, and somewhere deep inside, frightened her.

[Abashai]

If Abashai had noted anything, it was that Grace carried on at least as much conversation with herself within her head as he conducted with him. Her long pauses, distant glances, all pointed to internal dialogue. Maybe it was due to what he assumed was a relatively solitary life. But more likely, he surmised, it was a result of a sharp intellect and the process by which she worked through situations, to carefully craft her reactions and responses. It was these mental discussions to which the benshiran attributed the smile that crossed the woman's face, seemingly contrary to the grim nature of her latest revelation. She readily accepted his offer, and Shai instantly questioned why he had volunteered to unveil his guarded past. It was a story of shame and guilt that, only with Nya's help, had he been able to truly overcome. But the story was not finished, for there was still reconciliations to be made. Biding his time as they walked along, Abashai saw Grace glance back to her seat and the curious hooked swords laying near the stones, noting the subtle stammer in her step. Her hesitation lasted only a fraction of a moment, but the desert warrior read her flash of apprehension clearly. She had broken a personal protocol. No doubt the astute archeologist made it a rule never to find herself vulnerable, yet their conversation had distracted her such that she had left her weapons behind as she strolled alone with an armed stranger. It pleased him. Not in a vain way, but in the notion that the complex woman was not without fault, or the ability to be distracted. There was s visible correction to her oversight, as Grace opened the space between them. Her demeanor, however, never betrayed her moment of disharmony. She encourage the benshiran to recite the story he had offered. Abashai, in his own moment of discomfort as he realized the position in which he had placed himself, took a deep breath, his gaze settling on the soft swells of the open meadow they trekked. Then, with the resolution indicative of a devoted follower of Yahal, he forged on. "I was seventeen, nearly at the end of schooling in Yahebah." His voice was deep and had taken on a sober quality, the name of his home city rolling out in an accent even more thick than the Common words around it. "Young and foolish, as most boys that age. But I was also naive, in many things. I had been tasked with delivering payment to the baker who provided bread to the school." Abashai, paused, the memory still evoking a strong response that surprised him. He sighed heavily. "The baker was not there. But his wife was. She was...beautiful. She...took advantage of my inexperience, and...well, we were caught in her bed together." There was a moment of silence, the swish of dried grass beneath their feet and the distant clanging of the workers and the muttering of men digging into the ruins seeming to rise in volume to fill the void. Abashai avoided Grace's eyes, keeping his gaze fixed ahead of him. "There was a trial at the High Masha, where I was accused of Adultery. It is a serious sin among my people, one that comes with a severe punishment. The guilty are permanently marked, their palms tattooed black as a sign of their transgression. Those who bear this mark are...treated differently, always to bear the shame of their crime." "I was found guilty of the crime, and sentenced to be given the shameful mark." Again he paused, his pace slowing unconsciously, his clear, crystal eyes glazing slightly. "But, my cousin stepped forward, to be my Kiban." His tone softened, edged with pain. "A Kiban is someone who volunteers to take the punishment for another." "I was devastated. He was like my brother. The guilt of my crime crushed me, but the fact that Omri would take my punishment ground me to powder. I begged him not to do it, but he only looked at me with that love. Then they took him away." Abashai stopped. He thought he had put this ghost in the grave. But to relive it again, it made more of an impact than he would have imagined. "I fled. I ran away, I could not watch them do it to him, to see his life ruined for me. I left him, my family, and like a coward I ran away into the desert. I have never returned." Turning his hands face up, the benshiran stared at the shiber characters etched into the palms. "These should be blackened. But they are not. Omri took the marks, so mine may be clean for Yahal to write upon. Even then, my Lord was making a way for me to be used by him. But at a terrible price, a price I was supposed to pay." Shai had come to grips with the transgression, Yahal had shown forgiveness, and Nya had helped him forgive himself. But to hear the words in his own ears was uncomfortable. He wondered why, why he had chosen to reveal this to a stranger, when no one but Nya had ever heard it. Abashai had dealt with it with his god, and with the woman he loved. Maybe, now it was time to confess it to the world. He felt a nudge upon his psyche, like the soft fur of an affectionate cat. Nya had sensed the spike in his emotions, and even at a distance, reached out to reassure him. He returned a loving thought, letting his mate know that he was fine, and that he would see her soon. Abashai turned to Grace, his features soften, a small, almost apologetic smile on his lips. There was a sense of peace at his revelation. "Now, you know another chapter in my life."

[Grace]

Wearing an expression free from all judgment, Grace listened as Abashai revealed a turn in his history that was clearly one of his biggest regrets. The manner with which he seemed to pry the words from his lips, avoiding her gaze entirely, made her curious as to why he would tell her at all. It was clear that in spite of the passage of time, the hold this event had on him was still strong enough to turn her forthright companion into an older version of his former self; A grown man with a young man's sensibility and viewpoint. It always amazed her, in her own life as well, how opening an old wound could transport a person back to crux of the moment, complete with the myriad of emotions that had been present in the moment. As she watched the Benshiran she imagined that perhaps it was time to release that residual shame and free himself from the pale caste that colored his daily life, but still, for a near stranger to reveal this was a surprise. Had it only been a couple hours? With their recent revelations, it seemed to her that they had been talking much longer. Perhaps she'd been isolated too long, she was sharing things that usually never left her heart. But this was special, this game they played, this curious dance. She felt a strange kinship with Abashai, a thread of connection that she could not define. It wasn't sexual, though in a different set of circumstances the underlying tension was there, no, it went beyond simple desire, it was based in their ability to present and embody exactly those people that the were. For some reason, Grace wanted to reveal things, to define herself to him with all honesty. She wanted nothing more than to offer up a accurate portrayal of who she was, perhaps to ensure her own history by knowing there was one person alive who knew her for the person she was. There needed to be a memory of her life outside of herself, however unlikely the vessel that held it. Her attention had not broken from Abashai's face in spite of his clear attempt to look anywhere else. Usually, she trusted her feet to carry her anywhere, and they did so without fail, but as she concentrated on the Benshiran's story, her toe caught a raised stone and she was thrust into a careening forward tumble. The timing of her fall was exquisite, coinciding perfectly with the admission of his mistake. And...well, we were caught in her bed together. Her stumble made it seem as though his words had shocked her into clumsiness, but that was just an unfortunate byproduct of her focus on him, and she tired to convey that through the expression on her face. Offering a sad smile at the misfortune of his choice. "Go on." Once again walking with both feet being properly used, she turned her gray eyes to her companion as he continued. No words were spoken by Grace until he finished his telling, and even beyond that for a few moments as she sought the perfect words with which to ask a question she had. A passing wind ruffled the fall of pale hair that hung low over her eyes just as she turned to Abashai. "Thank you for opening that door to me, I can see it has been closed a very long time." She bowed her head to him just a bit, pausing as the words formed on her tongue. "I have a question. But I want you to know, I ask it without judgment." Another pause, she had no wish to make her words take on any taint of accusation. One misspoken word could end their discovery of one another and she did not want that. "What of your cousin? Omri? You seem to have made your peace with this mistakes, as you should, and your God seems to have thrust your life in a direction that you follow with much faith." She watched carefully as she spoke, looking for any sign that he was closing himself off from her, but her nature would not let her go on without asking these questions. "It seems to me, that you have yet to seek forgiveness from the person who for no other reason than love for you, made the lion's share of the sacrifice." The only sound was their footsteps on the grainy dirt beneath their feet, without knowing it, Grace held her breath, waiting on any response from Abashai. "Can your life be reconciled without doing that?"

[Abashai]

Abashai examined Grace's features, searching her eyes for a hint of condescension, a glimmer of judgment. To a benshiran, adultery was a shameful crime, and even now, Shai still expected outsiders to hold the sin as severe as his people. But the young woman still revealed no indication of disgust or affront at his confession. Confession. Shai looked away again as they strolled through the dry grass. Walls were creeping up. He should not have told her, why did he tell her? No one knew but Nya, it was over twelve years ago, he had a new life. Yet he felt compelled to tell this stranger his deepest shame. It did indeed bring up buried feelings along with defenses that he had once erected to protect himself from others. It had taken Nya quite awhile to batter down those defenses. Tradition, propriety and introversion had rendered him stoic and inaccessible. The brash kelvic, young and without human inhibitions ignored his obstacles, and his personal space, until she wore him down. In the end, it all came out, and the healing began. But perhaps the wound was not fully healed, for now, it stung again. The desert man's gaze fell back on the lovely archeologist. There was a pang of guilt, and he wondered if Nya was too far away to sense it. Not since Zaira had he been this close to a human woman, and his willingness to be so open with Grace suddenly caused him concern. It was not a sexual temptation, though she was very attractive. It was letting someone else into a world that had been Nya and his alone. The bonded pair were as one, he could not be defined apart from Nya, for they shared every aspect of thier lives like no other couple in the world. But right now, with Grace, he was...just Abashai. It was odd, making him feel both empty yet somewhat self-revealing. Grace's voice pulled the man's attention from his pensive musings. The construction of his soul barriers paused long enough to hear her out. Once again, the woman's voice bore a sincerity not found in her earlier inquiries. But then, the nature of the conversation had plumbed depths both understood to be almost sacred ground. Abashai smiled, mostly inside himself, the corners of his mouth only twitching up slightly. The benshiran could see that Grace proceeded with great care, not wanting to shatter the fragile bridge between them, and unwilling to walk away from the door he had opened to her. Her questions were pointed, shining a glaring light at the 6,000 pound tsanas in the middle of Abashai's soul that he tried to ignore. He had tried to convince himself that he was fine, Yahal had forgiven him. Nya had helped him to forgive himself. He told himself the quest, and protecting Nya, was the most important thing now, not his past. Now, even though he had refused to ask himself, his own ears rang with the question, carried on a feminine voice. Abashai did not miss a step, but he sighed deeply. He could sever the conversation at that moment, close the door and end their mutual revelations there. But the benshiran knew it was a valid question, and one he had ignored for too long. "I miss Yahebah, and my family, especially Omri. Sometimes it eats at me like a cankerworm. I...I can't think of it right now. There is too much going on. It's so far away." An unexpected wave of emotion washed over Abashai, forcing him to pause, gritting his teeth to contain it. It was almost too much to think about. "Someday...someday I will take Nya, and we will return to Yahebah...and I will face Omri. I will show him what his sacrifice had meant, that it was not for nothing.' He looked down at his hands, the palms turned skyward, and stared at the dark shiber characters of his gnosis mark written on his skin. Then Shai's gaze lifted to some distant point beyond the forest surrounding the meadow and its ruins. A heavy silence surrounded him, and his hands lowered again to his sides. It was then he realized he had stopped walking.