Why is it always crowded? (Dhalvasha)

[Asara Willow]

Noon, Summer 10th, AV 511

I told you to stay inside. The chilling voice whispered lazily through Asara's mind. The small Symenestra clenched her small, long fingered hands into fists. Her sharpened, short black nails dug into her palms at the usual pang that followed the voice, heralding the unwanted company. She stuffed down the cold voice with thoughts of fruit, of delicious pears.

If only she had remembered to bring one along with her on this little exploration of the outermost wall. She had a small amount of mizas though, perhaps enough to purchase some fruit. One pear would satisfy her hunger for a day, and she'd be fine with it. Later though, in the dark hours, she'd have to hunt for something more filling.

Like a human?

Asara ignored the stupid whisper, her dismissal causing a sharper stab of pain than usual. She leaned back against the wall she stood by, glad for its shade. She was still uncomfortable among the Humans, but she was slowly getting used to the hustle and bustle of life among them. She was even growing accustom to keeping her gloves off every day... Saving her hands from being sweaty all the time.

A cloud drifted over the sun and Asara found her eyes adjusting quickly to the brief fading of illumination. She thought about how she appeared, leaning her by her lonesome, and considered acting like she was awaiting someone. The only problem with such a ploy was that she had no one to wait for.

[Dhalvasha]

Syliras marinated in its population. Unlike the vaulted caves of Kalinor, so quiet and serene, Syliras was a bawdy howl that never ceased. It made one crave the silence, the darkness where the voices encountered may well be ones own, echoing from some corner of a memory. The castle city claimed no such refuges, immersing guest and resident alike in a continuous stream of livelihood. The Knights, always a silver-clad presence, stood above the crowds on placid horses, surveying their realm.

Dhalvasha did not so much as push through the crowd as he ghosted, gingerly taking advantage of every space between bodies and lapse in the constant flow of bodies to meander his way through the streets. He was a pale anomaly among the predominantly human populace, affording a generous birth by superstitious (or, perhaps intelligent) civilians. Those eyes he did meet, averting even as they caught his quartz-red gaze, were constricted with the claustrophobia of it all. Personally, if Kalinor could boast even a quarter of this population, the Harvest might phase out altogether.

There was no purpose for his walk, a scampering gait in caution of the less fragile humanoids, he only observed. A snake does not simply strike with reckless abandon, nor does the spider leap from her web to attack meandering flies. There was patience in everything, an expectant pause between thought and action many could not fathom. Dhalvasha had spent the last ten days observing, working towards a common end of classification. Syliras was a beast, no doubt, but what was its venom? How did it kill? Could he afford to be hasty when a suspicious gaze was always leveled on his face?

It was inevitable, perhaps, that he would play the tourist for a time before returning to his more...devious habits. The Knights represented a sort of order rare in the post Valterrian world and one to be respected, even if he found their haughty superiority annoying. His poisons and gear were left in his room, hidden and disguised not for the knights, but for the thief that decides discretion is not the better part of valor and reveals a poisoner to the authorities. They might promise clemency, but personally Dhalvasha doubted it.

The humans could afford to be merciless, they held a superior number and civilization to any other race. For some reason, they allowed the other races to persist and fight each other...perhaps from an inflated sense of godliness, the way a ranger looks upon the bear and the deer. Both inferior, he would rather let them fight each other than bother himself.

A frown ghosted Dhalvasha's face, drawing his eyes to narrow. It wasn't like him to be so judgmental of another species. A scientist could not afford to be beleaguered by such pretentious racism, and in a sense he admired the humans for what they had accomplished. Perhaps there was jealousy there, a race that could enjoy their mothers or mate without fear of termination.

How strange the Symenstra biology was! Procreation and Termination all in one act. Although unlike their like cousin, the spider, union only rarely brought more than one child.

Chuckling, his previous dip in mood banished, Dhalvasha skirted from the center of the crowd to the side, finding it easier to navigate on the fringe than in the thick of those flesh and fabric rapids.

He wasn't the only one.

It was with some surprise that his eyes settled on a pale Symenstra female, smaller than he remembered his kind and almost thin enough to vanish if she turned sideways. It was a rare opportunity, encountering one of the first pale skinned brethren since he'd left Kalinor. Much as he abhorred the methodology of his race and their past wrongs to him, to...but he cut off the thought before it could cloud his rationality.

Regardless, her reasons for traveling so far were a curiosity worth pursuing.

"My, and what a lovely creature you are," he said to her, keeping his distance and prefacing his words with a bow, "What brings you so far from our caverns, child?" The last words were spoken in Symnestra, a language almost too soft for the brash markets of Syliras. Still, his voice carried the tone and he smiled, unabashedly drinking in her shape.

Some may have found his eyes disconcerting, the intensity in which they followed the lines of her bones and skin, but Dhalvasha meant no offense by it, quite the opposite.

It was the compliment of a surgeon to be enamored with how a body was put together...it meant they might be less likely to take it apart.

[Asara Willow]

The Human populace, loud and undeciplined in it's self centered, ignorant herd, ignored the presence of the slight female clinging to the fringe. Like a child she stood, to the side and staring at a little in somewhat across the well-traversed street.

Always hungry, Asara's only thought was for sustenance. She would have crossed the street any time of the day, although she had an innate, understandable, fear of being trampled death. The thought had occurred to her that maybe one of the Humans would stab her if she got too close, perhaps thinking she was hunting him and taking advantage of her obvious fear. She doubted the knights would be hard pressed to investigate her death. She'd seen how they looked at her.

Scowling, the Symenestra took a deep breath and prepared to cross the tide. She'd not fear being drowned in the sea of Humans, and the occasional Kelvic.

But then... Someone spoke, called her lovely, and she immediately recoiled at that thought. She was not lovely, at least in her opinion. Physically, she saw herself as unappealing. She wasn't about to see herself in a better light surrounded by full-bodied women, some of whom actually had children.

Her head turned, her long white bangs drifting to conceal one angled gold eye as she looked at the tall male. She was surprised to see another Symenestra here, one so comfortable in his skin. He already fascinated her, and she returned the appraisal she was being given as he greeted her in Stymenos. She ignored his query to get a good look at him, finding his eyes the crux of her attention.

Remember the black widow? Whispered that very unwelcome guest in Asara's mind. She looked at the male. Asara did remember, she'd spoken to the beautiful web-spinner as they both ate. The widow made such good company. He was the one she had in mind as she ate her mate.

Asara was confused as to what exactly that meant, but she discarded it in favour of replying before the silence became awkward.

With a small, humourless smile, Asara tilted her head. "Child..? I am not what I appear..." She had found the mention of caverns to be confusing. She didn't remember any, but perhaps, if their kind came from there, she could find answers. "I... Am a wanderer, I suppose one would say... Currently I am studying these... Cattle creatures.." She waved a hand over in the direction of the Humans. She spoke smoothly in Symenos, her voice soft and lyrical.

"And you..?

[Dhalvasha]

"A fellow examiner of the dominant species," he answered quickly in his native tongue, marveling at how easy it still felt after his years away, "Although you might say I have a healthier respect of their potential than you seem to hold." A delicate eyebrow ascended, chiding her without speaking. He indicated them with a twist of his jaw, gobbling their images with glee before setting his gaze back on her. "Calling them cattle is to underestimate their innate potential, a hazardous mindset if you deign to live among them." Stepping closer, he held out a clawed hand "Dhalvasha, if you please, and we can leave the pleasantries of surnames to those who might concern themselves with such...erm...fancies."

He appraised her, looking past her petite beauty, the thin shapely arms and quiet fear of her body language. Somewhere, someone laughed harshly, breaking the timed rhythm in his own mind into fractured nothings. He blinked, staring vaguely into the crowd without focus or purpose. Symenstra were frail, but not singularly in the physical sense. Their ears, their emotions, their organs...everything about them seemed fragile, compromised. Certainly it was challenging to compete with more able bodied practitioners, able to set bones and fight wars in their own bodies that might crush a Symestra counterpart.

Truly, humans were born with strange poise and blessing from their source origin.

The Symnestra did not belong here, but pressed against the limits of their station to travel into a rougher world than bodies could handle. What a curious quandary!

She watched him with guarded suspicion, a tempered condition forged of rough experiences and frightful humans. Of the races, their fear of the unknown most bordered genocide.

But who could blame the fleshling for fearing the spider?

Or the spider's bite?

It wasn't much, but her eyes twitched slightly when he mentioned Kalinor, confusion immersing them momentarily in doubt. Perhaps it was safe to say she had not heard of it, and with her physical form as a pure Symenstra, that would make her an oddity indeed.

He had places to be, but perhaps he could tarry but a few moments longer.

"My ulterior purpose here? Well, I find it more interesting if some measure of mystery is maintained, it heightens the interaction. But you, miss Symnestra, interest me. Where did you come from? It certainly wasn't Kalinor."

[Asara Willow]

A thin smile curled her lips as he spoke to her of humans and their potential. Her eyes flashed as she considered him, an oddity in her opinion for speaking of the potential of such things when they spent their lives remarking on the nightmares such as the Zith or Symenestra races.

But of course, she knew inside that was an unfair view of Humans while she lingered among them. They had dreams and lives, they were just as inquisitive as she was... And she wasn't dead yet, was she? No one had even so much as slapped her wrist these past few weeks in their stronghold. Dirty looks were just that, dirty. Words were words... Yet she still felt their sting when someone commented on her form. She felt much more curious if he felt the same pain from a verbal whip, but it was too much of a stupid question to ask.

"I suppose you have a point... Dhalvasha." The name rolled off her tongue slowly as she tasted it, memorized it in case they were to part soon. Her stomach snarled at her and she looked around at the inn she was thinking of entering... but eyeing it brought a wave of distaste over her now. She looked back at him, at his outstretched hand, and felt a wave of confusion and amusement. "Yet I doubt I'll have a reason to stay among this fascinating race for more than I season."

No one had shown her the strange gesture before, and while she was sure she'd seen the proper response somewhere here, she grasped his hand with both her own and lifted it to get a good look at the structure of his claws. Hers hadn't looked like this when she filed them down in that farmer's house. They were cracked while his were well kept and sharp. Perfect claws for gripping and maybe even ripping.

My name is Asara... I'll prefer to... hmm... keep such tender information to myself... for now, at least. But I am curious about 'Kalinor', and these 'caverns'..." Upon thinking about her reply she relented slightly and hid any emotional reaction she might feel to her next words, paying attention to his eyes and his reaction. "I come from the Wilderness, no specific place. I woke up."

She kept her answer distant, and she hoped confusing.

Her eyes dropped to his hand in hers, and she held it palm upward to look at his hand's underside, tracing one of his faint veins almost casually. Of course, to her it was casual, but some other people felt she was... 'Appraising' them for food. Silliness, of course. Never before had she seen anything stroke its prey before it ate them. She doubted that undertakers even stroked the corpses in their care.

With a slight smirk she looked back up at him and was surprised the voice in her head had remained quiet for so long. She much liked the silence.

She wondered what they appeared like to the watchful knights and passing Humans. Two pale spiders, perhaps? Or freakishly formed humans, although she'd quickly shoot her most predatory glare at the first Human who called Dhalvasha freakish. He, at least, looked much more fantastical. Something inside said he was about right for their race. Standing next to her she felt like a little house spider next to a much more beautiful hunting spider from the wilderness.

It was a curious comparison, she knew, but for now it would suffice in her head.

"I'm surprised the knights let someone as... Well, to put it nicely... Threatening as you inside the city." A smile once again flashed across her face. "Frankly, I think you're the more dangerous of the people roaming Syliras. Although last season, I encountered one of the flying predators of the night, the Zith. She is much more frightening than you..." She had meant to not lessen how much even he terrified her, but she'd never admit it. She felt bad enough for fearing one of her own kind in a city so dominatingly populated by Humans that his scorn would only make her feel smaller.

[Dhalvasha]

It was born in his stomach, rolling up through his chest and throat uncharacteristically like thunder. He cut off the laughter after nearly doubling backward with mirth. How she treated him, spoke to him, reacted around him...like a kitten too afraid of an alley cat to realize they were of the same blood.

Her claws were cut, another indication of her alien origin. Symnestra may file the claws on their toes for the sake of shoes, but few would be challenged to remove the claws from their fingers as well. Perhaps it was some quiet resistance to humanity, maintaining some controllable aspect of Symenstra pride. Regardless, while both their hands were pale, latticed with black veins, they were different by gaps of culture and origin.

"Threatening? Dangerous? Frightening? You flatter me Asara," the name, like his own, rolled off the tongue gently as liquid, dripping into the air among these gruffer tones with tranquil fragility, "I am a practitioner of medicine, no Harvester to kidnap women or envenomed fiend lurking in an alley...you have some dark preconceived notions about our people."

Her story didn't sound believable, more the beginning of some bawdy tale of heroes than a real occurrence. Waking up in the Wildlands with no past held its own strange meanings to the doctor, drawn ever more curious to her slight ways, her simple innocence.

"Kalinor is a common home among our people," he said at last, eyes glittering "A bit empty, perhaps, but it affords a mind solitude." It was true, Kalinor had been the best environment for academic studies he had attended thus far. Everywhere else was not far from commotion or noise. Endrykas with the whinnying of horses, the Sea of Grass and its insufferable wind whispers, Lhavit and its nightly fanfare, and now the loudest, Syliras.

The sun beat down on him angrily, and he could feel his pale skin curling beneath its gaze. Holding up a hand, as though petitioning the sun for some measure of mercy, Dhalvasha stepped past Asara and toward an alley. "I will speak more of Kalinor, I think, but only if we can find someplace quieter...darker. Syliras, I fear, is too much for me still."

He was quick, his motions reminscent of a minnow flitting silver within a brook. But it was around the corner of an alley that he waited, ready for her to pass around the edge so he could gently grab her under the arm and spin her to the wall.

Should she be too surprised to resist, a questioning hand would rise to her forehead, nimbly tracing the contours of her skin till they found the scar where here memory had leaked from. His touch was soft, a kind of gentle intrusion bordering on the erotic. But he held no lust in his eyes, only an academic curiosity.

If she resisted, he was not prepared to fight her, and would allow her freedom, saying only that he wanted to examine the cause of her memory loss.

Now apart from her, one way or another, the Symnestra leaned against an alley wall and basked in the darkness it afforded him. "Zith are savage," he began, remembering Irriari and his interactions just a year ago, "But they are capable of rational thought and ambition as are we two...fear only serves to tell us what we do not understand."

[Asara Willow]

She had stiffened almost imperceptibly at his mirth before slowly relaxing. She'd been laughed at before, but this laughter was different. Sure, he was laughing at her, but it wasn't mocking. She would have laughed as well, just for the sake of sharing amusement with someone, even if a strange Symenestra male, but his mirth was not her own.

She smiled slightly, flashing her fangs, the slightly extended curves, at his words and tilted her head as though examining him. She masked the emotion in her eyes again. "I see our race the way these Humans view me... I've encountered a half-blood here that seems at ease, and unbothered, by the fact that these people fear Symenestra. I have been referred to as a monstrous freak, and I will see myself as such in such a place as this, surrounded by curious, cruel mouthed Humans. Maybe their fear has rubbed off on me, per se. I do not know."

Asara fell silent, having not meant to rant, and she looked away almost shyly until he mentioned moving into an alley. For a moment, she hesitated in following. An instinct shared among the females she'd seen. Well, the more noble one wouldn't follow a newly met acquaintance into a dark place, but she held a large amount of dislike for the sunlight and tolerated it only for the sake of meeting people and purchasing edible foods.

She was interested in hearing about Kalinor, deeply curious as to what it was like there. She momentarily pondered over going to Kalinor next, but something told her to travel a bit more first.

She did end up following, though, creeping slowly after him. She was completely shocked when he put her back to the wall, and although she didn't fight him, she recoiled at his touch. No one had ever touched her skin. She was tense with holding herself back from fleeing, yet she probably would have blushed if she ever felt embarrassed.

Slowly she reached up and moved his hand from her face, then she smiled crookedly at him. It felt exhilarating to have a complete stranger stroke the side of her face, and it felt very frightening to feel exhilarated.

Slowly, she relaxed and leaned against the wall, glad for the shade. She swallowed nervously and then chuckled.

"I quite like the Zith... They are such lovely creatures, so focused and yet so inquisitive... I could see how a Human would tell fearful stories about them, yet it always confused me as to why they never spoke of their curiosity. Humans are so... dense. At times anyway... They'd judge anyone without due cause, and as interesting as I find it, it annoys me to no end. They share the world with Zith. They must get used to it..."

She rose her eyes to look at him closely again, finding herself somewhat at ease now that she wasn't exposed entirely to the heat of the summer sun and the noise of the roaring tide of Humans.

[Dhalvasha]

"Yes, yes," he waved away her comments dismissively, already interested in her apparent memory loss. Although he'd heard that certain trauma can effect recollection, he had never observed it till recently. She presented him with a rare opportunity to skim the surface of mental mysteries. "Some humans fear the Zith for their differences, others hold them in jealous regards for their powers of flight. Humans are simple creatures, and we are the off shoots of their kind. Consider that we have everything a human does, and yet more. It is as though the human was used as a caste and we were the alterations...it bears something to think upon no?"

Reaching past her hand, he ghosted his claws across her scar again, finding where it spiderwebbed from the base of her skull and slithered a short distance before stopping. Symnestra were infamously fragile people, the blow that jarred her brain could have killed her...instead it only required a toll of experience, of memory, and left her breathing.

Why?

"May I be so forward to ask if, when you awoke in the Wildlands, it was with this injury relatively fresh on your forehead?" He licked his lips, noting his fangs had extended without provocation. In a way, Dhalvasha feasted on knowledge, consumed the marrow of its bones and made it a part of himself. The pressure of the fangs were uncomfortable, further reminding him he'd yet to eat today as well...of course he had lost track of time.

"If you assist me with my questions, I will, in turn, explain what I remember of Kalinor to you. Would that be an even trade Asara? My knowledge for yours?"

[Asara Willow]

A small smile curled her lips at his dismissive gesture. She listened to him in an abject fascination. He held totally enthralled already. She listened to the way he spoke, and to what his words were of. She liked the image he painted in her mind. Maybe they were alterations of an already adept race, a much more exotic form.

"I'd have to agree... It makes me feel quite..." She didn't have a word for the feeling, but it was pleasant. She was not comfortable with herself normally, seeing constantly the forms of human women all around her. Some people would have called her insecure, but she'd disagree. She held herself in contempt.

Slowly, she went very still at his touch, this time not removing his hand from her face. Her hands clenched into balls as she lowered them to her side. Slowly, very slowly, she was trying her best to get used to being touched. It was awkward.

As he ran his claw along her scar she resisted the urge to wrench away, just lowering her eyes slightly.

She frowned at his question, her eyes darkening as she thought back to that painful time. There was no pain until she had tried to move, but at the time she took it for shock. Twin divots formed at the edges of her fine eyebrows as she pondered the jumble mess of the time.

You don't want to dig. You do not want to know who did it, and delving will show you. Asara cringed at the sharpness of the internal voice. She did indeed want to know what happened to her, who hurt her, but there was a real threat behind the voice. It would hurt her, she realized. But it still didn't answer the question he had given her.

"It's all... Confusing..." She muttered softly to him. She focused on the first time she'd opened her eyes and almost fell back into the darkness from the pain. She knew that there was blood on her head, staining her hair, just as there was blood on her stomach that coloured her fair skin, stark against her white flesh. "My head was bleeding... The mess was everywhere, and it stuck to my skin... My head hurt so very much. I can't describe it..."

She dropped a hand to her waist to slide her fingers along the ridge of the scar along her stomach. She didn't remember much of that wound, except the disgust of peeling her clothes away and opening it again. The scar tissue there was raised to her touch, and she'd seen recently that it was darker than her skin tone. She scowled slightly at touching it.

"I'd love to exchange that information with you. It sounds like a mutually beneficial trade... After all, I'm as hungry for knowledge as you are, but you'll have to be patient... I'm feeling rather hungry right now and I'll be unfocused while we talk. I may miss some crucial details."

She smiled at how she maintained her poise, even when she was internally wincing from the memory of her first few days of new life.

"Would it be fine if we found something to eat in a... Quiet location? I do not wish to be overheard by prying ears." She didn't want to be found out by some relative of her first prey was her real issue, but she had no desire to mention that right now.

[Dhalvasha]

Just as he'd postulated, severe cranial trauma prior to memory loss. How marvelous. Of course, not for her, the experience must have been traumatizing and it was a small wonder she still lived...the Wildlands were not hospitable. Still, the amount of sheer coincidence that allowed the two of them to meet, to spare her life in the wilds, certainly this was not a chance that would repeat itself in the future.

"Of course, of course," the Symnestra said, breaking back to common as deeper thought took him. When distracted he slipped into the common tongue, a habit of the past several years rather than one cultivated in his birthplace. "I have not been in Syliras long and have had yet to find a quiet location worth speaking in...unless you've more experience than I, this alley serves me well enough."

Rummaging through his his day pack, Dhalvasha produced two peaches from his supply of food still left to him. One he gave to Asara, proffering it without a word, not looking for gratitude. The diet he and she adhered to made traditional cuisine difficult, and consumable fare expensive. For a patient of his, for in the time between her revelation and his offer of the peach Dhalvasha had neatly filed her name in an ongoing project, such generosity was expected. One must treat the experiment with respect and care lest they lose their progress in a matter of malnutrition or a hundred other small inconveniences.

"Symenstra families exist in what we call 'Webs', consisting of the entire family and the possibility of a few...carriers from the Harvest." He used the word 'carriers' rather than 'slaves', making the distinction that those captured by the Symnestra were not viewed as anything so basic as a slave...they were seen as less than people, containers of gestation and organic tanks for a growing child. It was an abominable practice, but a necessary one. Although Dhalvasha disliked his people for reasons relating to the Harvest, he wasn't about to dismiss it as a barbaric practice. For the matricidal race, without the Harvest they would die out within a hundred to two hundred years...or change entirely into half breeds.

"Now, you have no memories of what transpired earlier? You mentioned your own name...is that something you remember?" His questions tumbled over each other, crashing against the ends of his sentences as though strong-arming pauses into nothing. "What I mean to say, simply, is that if you still recollected your name, how many other details do you remember from before the incident? Did you find yourself performing skills you did not remember learning? Do you dream or sometimes flashback to where you were before? Perhaps most importantly, do you still suffer from headaches or migraines stemming from the injury?"