[Jade Pond] Darker than the Water [Victor Lark]

[Sophia]

This statement, though it may have had great impact for some, did not affect Sophia like one might think. Despite having regained her memory through the act of affection, she had still only ever heard such a proclamation from her parents, and romance was never involved.

True she had more feelings for this man than she had ever experienced with her family, but the social importance the statement had was lost upon her. She merely said what she always said, albeit with more meaning. "I love you too." She replied with a amiable smile.

And then the moment was gone as he began the questions again. She did not like thinking about answers, for it hurt to recall her past and the family she had left. But she also now realized that avoiding them would not make his questions go away; if anything it would make him even more curious. Besides, the wine she had drunk and the injury she sustained made her far less evasive, and much more talkative.

She took a short breath and looked away from him, to the side. "I ran away from my parents for a stupid reason. I hated them, but I never knew what they protected me against. Everyone looks at what I am like I am less than them, like a beast. At least out here, where I am a beast, the other ones fear me for my power. The bad men stay away, and I live well here. I don't have to care for anyone but myself."

[Victor Lark]

His head tilted in an attempt to follow her gaze, but he could not quite catch it. So he let her speak to the water, no matter how much it pained him. Without his eyes on hers, she seemed to say more. While that might have unnerved him, Victor found himself unusually patient. He dearly wanted the ability to match her words to her mien, but he figured he could sacrifice that comfort for the sake of a longer answer.

And, blind to her expression, he learned of a peculiar sadness in the mere sound of her voice. A smile passed over his face before it twisted into something more appropriate: a mockery of sympathy and distress. He reached out of the water to tentatively touch her chin. If she did not resist, he would pull her gaze back to him. He was surprised to find that he could not savor in the success of the emotion stirred there. He wondered if it was only the effect of the alcohol in his hand that he discovered an attractive shine in her miserable golden eyes.

A deliberate frown replaced the brief display of pity. “No one, darling?” He said, pouting, “Don’t you think it selfish, to care for no one but yourself? What of our weeks here, in this beautiful forest?”

He looked up and around at the world around them. Quiet, pristine moments like these were certainly uncommon out in this perilous wilderness, but her reputation among the natives probably contributed to his already inflated sense of safety. He had planned long ago to journey across the country, but dawdling with Sophia was so much easier. She would be useful, though, if he ever did get around to leaving. “You left,” he added, “and you stay, because you are a beast. But tell me, Sophie,”

Thin fingers relinquished their soft hold, following his body as it moved away from her through the thin water. He raised the bottle to his mouth again. Even the small sip he took pained his throat, but he tried not to let it show. Shades of annoyance, and the desire to annoy, swayed to the front of his mind. He offered the firewater back to her, should she desire another taste. “Do you think you are a beast?”

[Sophia]

She did not know what to say. The original point of coming out here was so that she could be alone, and therefore be herself. The slavers had been a catalyst to this plan, nothing more. Their cruelty had only served to make her shun normal society even further.

But the problem was that the Kelvic did not want to complain about her life, and she was still hesitant on speaking in general. She felt that if she said too much that the fleeting dream that Victor represented would fade more quickly than she wanted, and thus Sophia only looked away from him once again.

He offered the bottle, and Sophia's hand reached out to grasp it instantly. There was a moment of hesitation when her fingertips touched the neck of the wine, recalling the burning sensation, but the pleasant feelings swimming around and muddling her brain decided that a further drink would have more benefits than consequences, and her hand closed firmly around the bottle. She brought it up to her lips and tilted it, some of the liquid running out of her mouth and down her cheek. She gagged and coughed as was expected of someone new to alcohol and also that of bad booze, but in a few moments she had regained her composure and finally looked back to him.

Was she a beast? She didn't know for certain. When she saw the other animals that shared the forest of stone with her they only stared; they didn't really look back. They only looked to see if she was going to be a threat to their life. Even before she had regained her memories, she often watched her reflection in the water and knew that it was truly her that looked back and that she could change back to her human form anytime she wanted. She was less than a person, but more than a beast. The middle ground was lonely, and threatened to tear her from the inside.

She said quietly. "I don't want to be a beast." The answer was short, maddening. If Victor had wanted her to open completely to him, it was not this time.

[Victor Lark]

Victor frowned. He knew well enough that the expression was not unfamiliar to her, especially when she gave him so little of herself, her feelings and her thoughts. But there was something different in that moment’s glare. It was ignited by strong drink, inflamed accumulating frustrations, and fed secretly by growing lusts. It was more than disappointment.

As they had talked, he had lead them gently through the shallow parts of the pond to a nook of large rocks that rose sharply out the water, leaving no gradual ascent to a dirt shore. Calmly enough, he took the neck of the bottle from her grasp and set it between two of them, safely aside. Then his hand rose almost delicately to her face again, where it had caressed the soft, scarred skin so many times before. He ran his forefinger over her jaw and his thumb over her collarbone, then wrapped his hand around her neck.

The rippling water around her waist made her light; he easily pushed her against the warm stone, pinning her by the throat. “Well, are you?” He rejoined, sudden inexplicable fury strewn in his burning almond eyes as he pushed against her windpipe, “What do you think, Sophie? What do you think of yourself? What do you know? Nothing. Nothing! Maybe you are an ignorant animal, who can never feel anything but confusion and devotion. Do you want to be more than that? I don’t know. I can’t know. You have to do it. You have to feel it!” He did not intend to inspire her with those words, but to punish her for her seeming indifference.

“You are weak,” he continued, “You are daft. Be a human! Be a woman!” Half for his drunken rage and half for his desire to spark some emotion on that beautiful face, he shook her where he held her. Still, only one hand stood between the air and her lungs. He would release her instantly, if she dared to resist. “Defend yourself!”

[Sophia]

Moments ago he had soothed her with words of comfort and taken as much as a healer's touch as he possessed to her clumsy wound, and yet now he had his hand wrapped around her throat.

The Kelvic strained her neck muscles to the maximum point, but his grip was firm and the air could hardly get through to her lungs. She tried to speak. The only thing that escaped her lips were futile gaspings and little pops of vocal cord movement. Her hands clawed ineffectively at the ones that held her throat closed. Things were becoming as though she were staring down a tunnel, with his face shouting at her in the end of it.

Just as the eyes began to roll to the back of her head Sophia reacted. Her arm shot up, striking the inside of his wrist and pushing with all her might. The grip was tight, but the thumb's hold is a vulnerable point in such a position and in a moment she was free. She was free, but did not possess all of her wits that she had lost from the lack of oxygen. Her body flew into a rage, she leapt and transformed instantly in a bright flash to the puma, claws outstretched and sore vocals roaring.

Her claws bit deeply into his chest, and they both fell into the shallow water. The splash interrupted what Sophia would later regard as a very canine-like lunge for his throat, and instead he retracted her weapons and stepped quickly out of the pool entirely.

She stared down at him, half disbelieving the turn of events and half wary that he would launch a counter attack. Yet the loyalty remained, and she desperately wanted to run away, but knew that he would disapprove of that no matter what mood he was in. And so Sophia stayed, mouth closed and green eyes wide, waiting and hoping for docility.

[Victor Lark]

“Ha!” Victor exclaimed as she pushed him aside, glad to discover some aggression. He did not have time to bask in the achievement.

Suddenly, water surrounded him. Pain like he had never felt before carved crooked lines into his chest. He tried to cry out, but only bubbles of precious air escaped from his mouth. The shallow water did its best to cushion his descent to the soft mud floor of the pond, but still the impact racked his spine. If he had managed to open his eyes, he would have seen thick red clouds swarming around his forgotten arms, swelling into the green like dying snakes.

He did not rise immediately. He could not comprehend where he was, in those moments. When he did, his pained expression twisted into a wide smile. There was indeed a something of a monster behind the timid, soft-spoken girl. Victor rather liked that side of his pet.

Pulling his legs beneath him, the human pushed against the ground and broke the surface in a flourish of white foam. He gasped for breath, eyes struggling to see through the dripping water. He wore a necklace of blood that still ran in lines down his chest, but he pushed the pain from his mind. He was not docile, far from it. Even he could not tell what portion of his rage was genuine and what was only a continued attempt to bring out the beast. “And what are you now?” He yelled up at her. “A beast, that’s what. You do not have the strength to be a woman!”

But before he could come up with any more ridicule, he staggered. His head felt light, and he could not ignore the burn of his wounds for very long. He did not have the energy for rage. In that weakness, his scrambling mind grasped at consciousness and found delirious amusement. He laughed, reaching fruitlessly for something solid to lean against. “But you can defend yourself. We know that much. From the bad men. I...” His gaze had strayed in the weight of the blood loss, but now he looked back at her again. He tried to frown, but his lips were not heavy enough. “I just thought you were better than that.”

[Sophia]

His words bit deeper than any blade or tooth could possibly hope to. Sophia had not realized how happy she had been to have reclaimed her humanity until the moment where the man she considered her bondmate accused her of being nothing more than a mindless beast. A low and mournful growl rose into her throat, unbidden and unwelcome.

But no, she had to prove him wrong. She had to make him know that she had the thoughts and memories that animals could never have, that she could control herself and function as society demanded. All he saw now was the mountain lion, staring with shimmering feline eyes, devoid of any outward signs of human emotion.

The change was always taxing. She had enough energy on good days to only shift once, but she had been spending enough of her time with Victor and thus in her human form that the change was slowly becoming easier. But even then her effort was wasted. Perhaps her form lightened a little to signal the shift, but other than that all that Sophia's effort achieved was a further sense of fatigue and injury. She could not do it.

She let out a pathetic cry of despair into the air. The anger and frustration she felt fueled a short burst of energy to bound to the nearest tree crowded with leaves and branches and a leaping climb up to its boughs and the hiding place it provided. It seemed ridiculous, most of all to her, that she should be able to do this now and yet not be able to take the form she was born into.

[Victor Lark]

A careful combination of intoxication, the pain of his wounds, and the preceding moments’ disorientation left Victor’s head swimming in confusion. He could not tell if he was angry or disappointed or amused, and the turmoil manifested in a slack jaw and furrowed brow. He stared at the water until a bestial whimper signaled her departure. When he looked up, he saw only the bound of her hind paws. He rolled his eyes.

“No – come on. Sophia, come back,” he said, drunk and tired, unable to find the energy to properly plead. The world spun as Victor tried to move towards the high rocks. Submerged legs moved slower than his arms, which flailed in a half-blind search for something solid to grip on to. When he found it, it took another few moments of intense concentration to gather the strength to hoist himself from the grotto and onto the tiny hills of hard stone. He rolled, paused, and, with a grunt, sat up. The corner of his eye remembered the forgotten bottle where it sat. He grabbed it and tipped back a desperate gulp. A harsh burn and cough later, he felt no less befuddled. Irritably hoping that she might hear him from where ever she hid, he groaned audibly as he stood, then stumbled towards the distant trunk and kneeled beside it.

He would not give her the satisfaction of his pursuit. He found a black cotton vest which he might have once considered fashionable and dipped it with liquor, and with it he wiped his already healing chest. The sting of it hurt worse on her claws’ serrations than it had on the smooth cut from before. As he hissed a pained inhale at the first touch, the gravity of the situation filed the sober cracks of his mind. He had only hurt him because he asked her to; otherwise, she had proven kind, and valuable to his survival. He had said he loved her. He did not know if it was true. One thing was true: though he would never admit it out loud, he needed her.

Sighing, Victor closed and wrapped up the bottle, procuring a roll of gauze in its place. There were stripes of fading brown where it had once hugged an old wound, but he seemed to think it was sufficient. With fumbling fingers and awkward elbows he tried to wrap it over the meager bulk of his upper torso. Even after ten straight chimes of trying, it simply fell to his waist when he stood. So he tore it from his body and threw it resentfully at the trunk again, then scanned the surroundings for Sophia.

“Sophie, where are you?” He said, stumbling aimlessly. He decided to move towards the trees so that he could lean against them as he searched. A trio of birds rose to the sky at his voice’s disturbance. “Sophie, darling, I’m sorry. Come back, come out. Let’s talk.”

A glance up offered him the sight he desired: that cat, so large and so small at the same time, cowering with drooping eyes among the branches. He wanted to climb up there with her; he had always liked climbing, though he had never been very good at it, but he knew he did not have the strength. Instead, he tripped to the tree and his naked body fell before he could reach it. The impact with the ground forced a pathetic noise from his lungs, but when he crawled to the tree to lean against it, he tried to offer her a consoling smile.

[Sophia]

She tried to go as low as possible, to become part of the old bark and leaves gently rustling in the wind. Perhaps if she were a tree, she wouldn't think and therefore would not have to deal with all this. It was easier on instinct, things were simpler. What she could not catch she did not eat, and tried again. None of this pain of emotion.

And yet she knew she had to stay true to what she felt now. She could never return to the beast again, nor was she sure that she wanted to. And as much as she cowered the kevlic could not become a branch. Sophia knew that she would have to face him eventually.

She watched him silently from the overhang as he stumbled about their rude camp. He did not seem as angry as she thought he would be- only disoriented and perhaps apologetic. Sophia knew that the wine ran through him. It clouded her own mind, making her far more emotional than she perhaps might have been.

When Victor collapsed at the base of the tree, her feline head rose slowly. She met his gaze with no sound and hardly any feeling reflected in her eyes. The big cat breathed in and out slowly, almost a sigh, before padding deftly down the trunk and rubbing apologetically against his shoulder. She purred and laid her head down upon his lap and closed her weary eyes.

[Victor Lark]

 
“Oh... hello,” were the only words that came to Victor when she approached. Even if he had said anything more, she could not have responded through a rough tongue and long yellow teeth. A back of fur had replaced the allure of her human femininity; anything he might have once felt beneath the cool line of water around his waist had wilted in the attack, when she reminded him of her true form. He could not lust after an animal’s body, and he could not explore an animal’s mind.

But she was company and she was protection, and as she rested her heavy head against his bare legs, he raised a hand to the tender piece of skull between her ears. His fingers moved idly between the hairs there, sadly ignorant to her newfound determination to be something different than the impression he had already made. He stared at the water as it glittered in the light of the high sun, the large wooden box always in the corner of his vision. He might have fallen asleep with her, if there had not been a nagging thought on his mind.

“I’m leaving,” he said finally, unequivocally pushing all other actions and sentiments aside, “We have stayed too long here, and I mean to head South.” He looked down at her face, unsure whether she had dozed too far into unconsciousness. His thumb pressed against her head under the pretense of affection, hoping to stir her from her fatigue. If he could meet her eyes, he would try to give his brow a pleading blend. “Come with me.”