Prickly Preparations (Canali)

[Antar]

"Hey scat cat!" Noth spoke a bit scathingly in low tones towards the animal as it lapped up Canali's drink. "Your owner's going to be a little ticked off I'm sure- "

His words were cut off by the sight of the cat getting wet down by warm tea, and a quick look towards the source confirmed the cause. The woman was playing with her slingshot again... and the cat didn't seem to like it as he walked off with the telltale haughty behavior that cats were known for everywhere. For a moment, that made him want to laugh, but he supressed his mirth as he realized Canali still had the slingshot in hand. That one dreadful realization simply made him crosss his right leg over his left , protectively shielding himself as he forced a smile at the woman. "Well I guess the old saying is true... there's more then one way to skin a cat."

Letting out a cheeky grin , Noth held the other bandages in his hand. "Alright my friend, since you were willing to put that slingshot down long enough for me to not be nervous. Would you like me to fix a bandage around that ankle or should I get a head start running for the hills while you go and grab for that deadly weapon again??"

[Canali]

A sense of guilt slithered across Canali's unmarred face before she stuck her tongue out at him childishly. "It was an accident I swear." Only the day before had she mistaken Antar for a beast when he snuck up on her. The slingshot she had prepared to smack the squirrel attacking her with acorns had been used on Antar. The only problem was that the aim was a little off and instead Antar's chances of having children in the future was almost extinguished. Huffily tossing a bedheaded mop of hair over her thin shoulder, Canali limped back over to where Antar was seated by the fire. She moved with a slow, fluid grace and, when she wasn't hurt, seemed to almost float on her imagination. Though many would title her "Naïve", Canali preferred to think of herself as choosily oblivious. This consisted of seeing what was going on and ignoring it if she chose. Getting back down to the ground was an act. She was determined not to hurt her ankle more than necessary. Folding herself backwards, Canali used her medium height to place one hand on the ground, fingers used as a brace, before raising her hurt ankle and holding it midair. Popping her other leg out from under her with a split second movement, Canali was upheld in the air momentarily only by her arm which was shaking. Her muscles twitched and shook, unused to the foreign weight. The crook of her arm buckled, leaving her falling the last few inches to meet the hard earth. Coming down upon her bum harder than she would have liked, Canali nearly winced before pushing the flickering nuisance of pain away. Letting out a long suffering sigh which spoke volumes, she met Antar's eyes. "My latest form of gravity." Shifting her ankle into Antar's lap, the tendon behind it balanced onto his knee, she lay back upon the ground with drama. Canali's almost black, curly hair surrounded her like an arc, offsetting her pale face. A tear of sweat stealthily slipped down her temple. While Antar was busy wrapping the ankle, again, Canali adjusted and readjusted whenever he needed. No need to make it harder on the man than need be. She also talked with a reminiscent edge to her melodic voice. "When I was… Oh, gee, about… hmm, thirteen I want to say, I broke a bone. My left leg, actually. The lower half, near the calf. My tendon was ripped, muscles strained, and the bone itself was cleanly broken in three places. One of my father's "Buddies", also known as a druggie, didn't receive the next dropoff from my father. The man took it out on me, left me bruised and battered." A pained plea made Canali's eyes go large as saucers, bright, and watery. Akin to the puppy dog look, but worse. This was a look of pure innocent mirth ruined by something she hadn't even been a part of. "..Even though my father didn't want to as we were living on the streets and low on money, he took me to the doctor. Warned me before we entered there to say I was playing on the rooftops. He didn't want me to ruin his "Business" of selling drugs." A pause. "I told the doctor what my father told me. Later, when we were seated at the inn we would rip off of a meal, I asked him if he would quit now; if he saw how it affected others besides just him. My father, Nathan, reached out to stroke my hair and told me, no, he wouldn't quit. If anything, this would pressure him more to keep me safe. Afterwards, he went on to eat the soup I had lost my appetite for." When Canali's eyes next met Antar's, they were harder than the cold edge of a blade. She looked so much more… Mature, even though she was in the position of a child. Canali's shaking fingers contradicted the expression, she commanded a single sentence with a vibrating voice, " Never sell drugs, Antar. Please." Her face proceeded to turn away and stare off to where Katahr had disappeared.

[Antar]

As Canali droned on, Antar began to tune her out as he centered himself, concentrating his vision slowly upon the foot in his lap. The ankle was swollen a little and it seemed to still be tender enough to cause pain to the woman. So he wanted to See if he could tell what was wrong, by using Auristics. He knew it wasn't a means of seeing through people's bones or deep into the heart of them, but he thought it might be enough to allow one to note the natural flows of djed in another as the healing process began to work.

Soon enough he was gazing at the woman's aura, seeing the splotches of red, and purple surrounding the injury she had received the day before and slowly he began to re-wrap the ankle, making them snug but not to snug as he rolled the material around the arch of the foot and up towards the leg as he spared a quick glance at the woman lying down. His hands slowly continued the task with a gentle touch as he saw the signs of her breathing. She seemed like a picture of innocence to be sure, but any man who saw her lying like that with her figure outlined in the sun would have some thoughts that were far from innocent.

But as his eyes rolled over her curves he couldn't help but marvel at the colors he could see within her aura. Even as the familiar ache of a headache began, he could not stop looking at her as she spoke. A swirling haze of greens of memory, blues of sadness at the memories she spoke when she spoke of her father. The signs of orange whisps of cheerful mirth leftover from the situation with Kahtar and the embarres hues of yellow as she replied to his friendly jibe about slung stones. Numbly he nodded at her words and replied with slightly slurred speech. "Oh, drugs... don't worry my dear. I don't do drugs, but I'm sure if I looted some off a corpse I wouldn't sell them directly. I'd simply find the nearest dealer, throw them at 'em and tell them to give me some mizas for my trouble-Now as for your leg, It seems to be-"

He trailed off as a change in Canali's aura appeared, a shimmer of white amidst the hues of other colors. "Wonderful. Absolutely wonderful."

"Oh my god, are you on drugs?" The woman looked at him wildly as he simply stared at her for a moment with his brow furrowed in concentration.

Vaguely he remembered her question and he would answer her. "No, no... I just told you I don't do those things. I'm just seeing your injury."

But more then that he could see Canali herself. The whole of her aura. It was beautiful , a portrait of rainbows scintillating against a backgrounds of mists. Captivating to the eye, as he suddenly changed topics mid sentence to try to answer her. "Though I imagine sometimes drugs must have effects very like the Sweet Whispers that effect those who practice arcane talents."

Very slowly the rogue blinked and furrowed his brow as if he was having trouble thinking. "Now where was I? You're leg, yes, it looks like its healing fine. I've been Seeing the aura about it quite nicely. The body seems to be in pain there, but nothing to the extent of something broke I imagine. I wouldn't know, I've never Sighted someone with a broken arm or a leg before, it just seems to me that it would be much worse... I must say when I look at you you're...wonderful. Almost as if a thousand dancing fires were cool to the touch, I'm sure I could explain it if I had words. But do I? No maybe I can show you... "

For a second the bleary man surged a bit of djed to his hands, and from his palm a small sphere of res formed. In accordance with his will and his mind the exterior came alight in blue fire and the res began to dance above his hands as it formed the hazy picture of a human being, one lying back like Canali's position. Slowly the blue fire burned with parts of it becoming swirling in a beautiful display of reds and orange hues. Near the figures ankle the darkest red of the fire burned. "Yes, this is what I see within your aura. The pain of healing right here." His mind trying to match them to Canali's aura as he looked at her. But soon enough his efforts came to nothingness as the Res dissipated , it's fuel spent into the air.

The rogue's eyes ventured over Canali's form as she was half risen from the ground. A full view of her figure was wonderful to his eyes, surrounded by all the pretty swirling hazes of light. Gently moving her foot off his lap he began to move closer, close enough to lean his ear against her chest a moment to hear her heart beating. He backed away long enough to loop one hand up to reach about her wrist and raised it slightly to place her hand, palm first against his."It looks wonderful... something I'd want to touch. To hold or admire for hours on end... I think... I think this isn't good.

The voices in his head began whispering, to be closer to the woman, to view what every experience could change in her aura. To watch it for a moment. Soon he bent forward to be almost nose to nose with the woman lying on the ground as one hand reached out to cup her chin as his thumb stroked the side of her cheek He blurted out. "You're beautiful. Absolutely beautiful to my senses Canali. A comforting set of colors. They say that auras tend to be known by a large amount of senses ..."

He leaned closer to her, if that was possible at this point so his breath might tickle her lips as he inhaled deeply. "Lilac and cinnamon, that's what your aura is tinged with... Enchanting Canali -Absolutely enchanting. I wonder if you would ever could see your own aura. It's absolutely wonderful to look at, like another sense you could touch with your hands or your lips. A simple wonder to be around."

The voices were speaking louder that he should claim this mortal as his own. To make her his even if it was for just a moment. Even if it was by force. But that wouldn't do, Noth dismissed such things. He was against taking a woman by any other means then soft laughter and consensus. It was one of those rules he had, if a woman wasn't laughing at the time then there was no reason to ...

So simply keep her and stare... and if things later came along then...

'That might work, but still she was awfully close to him right now...'

The thumb of his right hand moved gently upwards to brush over her lips as if he was wondering how they would taste. Could he actually taste another's aura? He didn't know... but he wondered if he could. He could feel her hands crossed over her chest, protectively . As Antar leaned forwards closer to her and those lips, he could feel her breath on his cheek, but his mind stopped himself long enough to mutter a moment. "I think I'm in trouble ... looking at your injury with auristics seems to have backfired on me. "

As the rogue's vision blurred he made one of the most demeaning requests of his life . He made himself dependant upon another person. The rogue whispered in a faint plea as he collapsed unconscious atop her form."Canali... Please. Help M-.."

[Canali]

The ball of res in Antar's hand was magical. Canali couldn't tear her grey eyes from it. Even if she wanted to, she could not have stopped the curiosity from tearing through her body like a blade through the porcupine's flesh earlier. Drawn to the beautiful colors and how the raving Antar manipulated them, she leaned up on one elbow, determined to get a closer look. Idly, she noted the tug in her stomach at the odd position. Had she not needed her hands to rest upon, Canali might have tried to reach for the swirling picture. How had he done it? Underlying the child-like innocence and fascination, fear lay waiting to steal Canali's breath. Antar mentioned something akin to the word of "aura". What was it? The red circling the diagram's ankle? If this was truly how she looked to him, how did she come off to others? Relief flared when the magical bubble disappeared. Though fascinating, the magic was scaring Canali worse than Antar's strange behavior. Eyes going wide when Antar moved her ankle with his callused fingers, all color left her face as he placed his ear against her chest. What was he thinking? Did the man think at all of his actions? Shaking and limp, she couldn't fight Antar when he pressed his palm against hers. Antar's hand easily enveloped her small, bony one. Warmth flooded from his while Canali's had become clammy and frigid; colder than Avanthal on a bad day. The fingertips of his went on for several more centimeters past hers. Pulse pounding painfully, Canali waited until the soonest possible second to rip her hand away from his hallucinated touch. The scalding fire receded and she let loose a breath she hadn't even been aware of holding. Panic full out burst from Canali when Antar leaned closer; close enough so she could smell his vile morning breath. Trembling hands reached out to push futilely against his all male chest. He didn't move and she doubted it even slowed him down. Never did the thought of his "magic" causing him harm cross her mind. Stiffening when her face was touched, a deep inhale resounded between the pair. Most likely hers, but she couldn't be certain. Canali's mind shut down as Antar kept talking, spilling out would-be compliments. Pinning her eyes on a faraway object, she tried not to think of Antar's rough skin moving against hers or the magic driven words spinning from between his thin lips. If she paid him no mind, he truly wouldn't be there. Canali's defense mechanism for situations she knew she would not be able to escape had kicked in. Did no one in the camp truly pay heed to the pair; one overly friendly and the other wearing a pale look of harassment? Were they so used to seeing Sunberth as its worst that they couldn't -wouldn't- figure anything wrong with this sight in their own camp? Had being part of a gang ruined their humanity to those who truly needed help? Barely aware of slipping between time and space, Canali's mind let her fall back into a memory; one no better than the current situation. "Come on, little girl. We're just gonna play a little game, alright?" the man coaxed into the darkness of the room. Large and burly, he dominated the small inn's bedroom where Canali and her father had taken refuge for the night and hoped for a peaceful sleep. Nathan, Canali's father, had mentioned something about needing to take care of things and left soon after dark. Young, barely a teenage girl, Canali had been left behind to fend for herself. Having swiped a brush from the last owner's wife, Canali was in the midst of brushing out her long dark hair when the heavy footsteps started. Pausing and continuing after knocking on the doors of the rooms next to her, Canali had winced when her gut twisted painfully from nerves. Only ticks before the man burst into the room, Canali had flown from her seat on the floor near the window to under the bed. The brush had been discarded with the flick of a nervous hand, left to smack against something somewhere in the room. Trembling and shivering, Canali held her breath unconsciously. If the man heard her… It was better to not think about it. The space was a tight fit. Canali had recently been growing in certain spots. Her hips and chest had expanded slightly and the boyish line of her body had been traded for feminine curves. The hard bed above her was stifling. "Where are you, you little brat!" the man spoke into the room, making Canali jolt. With it, her worn out clothes rustled. "I see how it is. Let's play hide and seek, shall we? If you win, I'll leave. If you lose, you'll do anything I want." A pause as the bedroom door shut with a squeak. "I saw you come in with that man. Was he your previous customer, slut?" The man stepped into the room more, boots thudding on the hard floor. Eyes wide, Canali had to place a hand over her young mouth to keep from screaming. "I tried to get your attention, but you stuck up your haughty nose and walked away laughing. Fine. You don't want to negotiate, we won't. I'm sure we could settle upon the price of free fairly easily, right?" The man was clearly insane, or lust driven. In Canali's young mind, the two weren't so far from one another. In fact, nearly synonyms. "Aha!" The trunk opened noisily to reveal empty air. "You little conniving brat. Where are you? Hiding will only delay the process, honey." Switching to a new tactic as he searched the room, Canali tried to keep quiet. "Come now. I ain't gonna hurt ya. I promise. You'll even enjoy it. You probably ain't never had a man quite as," a shuffle as he ripped apart the pile of blankets, "me." Canali's barely teenage mind didn't want to fill in the blank. When she felt moist breath upon her ankle, Canali kicked out. The man, enraged, yelped. His callused fingers curled around her skinny leg, pulling her backwards even as she tried to cling to the wood flooring like she would to her innocence after the night was done. It was no use. "No, no, no…" spilled from Canali's lips as she tried to jerk away. It was futile. "No, no-" Antar collapsed. Pulled from her memories, Canali was aware of two things. One, the breath was knocked out of her and she had a man who probably weighed twice as much as she did was atop her. Two, tears were coursing down her cheeks in silent rivers. Still reeling from the white flash of panic in her memory, Canali shoved Antar off with surprising strength. Then again, maybe he was lighter when unconscious. Without waiting to check his pulse, she scrambled backwards on her hands and feet. The nearest object was thrown. Wiping the tears from her eyes as well as the horrible images, she realized something was wrong with Antar. Canali had thrown the tea cup Katahr had been drinking from. The liquid had splashed over his shirt and face. Innocently, it sat nearby. "Antar?" slid hesitantly from between quivering lips. Crawling back over to him, Canali tried to push her own fears away. It was no use and she shoved his shoulder, trying to awaken him. "Antar! Wake up!" Another tear coursed down her cheek. "Oh, gods, wake up. Please, wake up.." Taking a deep, unsteady breath, Canali pushed her own emotions side. Though nowhere near calm, she was more sturdy. Pressing her fingers against his neck, below the right side of his jaw, Canali searched for a pulse. With a little movement and a bit more firmness on the searching, she soon felt the life pulsing through his veins. Relief cut through her hazy mind, making it more clear. If he was alive, she had less to worry about. Looking at his shirt and wondering if she really wanted to press her ear against the absorbed liquid, Canali's eyes flitted upon the dagger nearby. Reaching out with a surprisingly steady hand, Canali's fingers wrapped around the wooden handle. Rolling it between her hands, she allowed the familiar knife to become acquainted with her palm before clenching it tightly. Reaching out with the other hand, she pulled Antar's shirt taught across his upper body. With the knife in her right hand and the shirt in her left, she leveled it next to her fingertips before jerking upwards. The shirt gave a loud rip. Sure of herself now, emotions packed away, Canali cut through the rest of Antar's shirt. Canali told herself she only looked over his chest so well to make sure there was no bruising. There was none. Leaning down, she pressed her ear against his skin. On the right side, below the collar bone. To hear his heart and try to guesstimate whether something was wrong there or not. Though she truly had no idea what she was searching for, Canali listened to the even rhythm. Everything seemed in place. Pushing back onto her knees, she looked at the man before her and reached a conclusion. Everything was in place but his sanity.

[Antar]

Dreams are fickle things... fleeting illusions of the mind granted by Nysel's whim.

But more than that, dreams were sometimes they are milestones of a journey. Milestones linked to memories. Memories of pain, and hardship. Memories of fatigue, and loss. Memories that were as real as the present, and as foreboding as the future… yet rooted in the pains of yester years.

A young child of eight ran through the streets with his friends, happily laughing in mirth until one of the older boys tripped his stepbrother of six and began to taunt him mercilessly until he was crying. Without hesitation his steps quickened and the boy launched himself towards the larger boy’s leg, putting his shoulder into the blow as he tackled him to the streets. The older boy fought back, but the eight year old didn’t care for the damage he was receiving as he moved to straddle the older boy’s chest and begin to punch him across the mouth repeatedly…
… It was cold that night sitting outside the family’s doorstep . The older boy’s parents had been visiting his mother and she had been left apologizing for her son’s ‘transgressions.’ The blood on his lip was drying, and the bruises were painful to him but he bore them proudly. He had been banished to the doorstep for the night as he sat. It had rained, and he shivered in the cold until syna’s dawn came upon the world and he was finally let back inside the house…

A sharp bit of pain in a man’s temples would furrow his brow and a young woman named Canali would watch as the man seemed to shiver a moment, but soon it would be still…

A child of ten looked upwards at the figure above him, its hands raised high. “You are not my son!” a stepfather shouted. He had never known his father. Not even his mother would tell him anything though he had asked. A blur of motion and a sharp pain came to his cheek from his stepfather’s hand. The force of the man’s blow spun the boy to the ground hard as his eyes faced the back of the ‘healthy home.’ He looked beyond to where his mother and half-sister were huddled underneath the steps to the second floor. Her bruised lips at the hands of a drunken father set the fires of hatred alight his belly and slowly the young boy pushed himself up to his elbows and then his knees. His eyes travelled upwards to the ceiling.

In the rooms above his stepbrother had run screaming in fear from his own father when the man had attempted to lash him with his belt. The abuse had gotten worse this year, worse than last year. His stepbrother last week had had his armbroken, his little half sister had been bruised and screamed in the night when his stepfather had come home to lock himself in her room.

His mother had stepped between the man and his own child, a child not her own and had been savagely beaten her and his daughter, his half-sister before the boy had come home to intercede. That was when he’d been threatened with a lashing and had his shirt ripped off his back. These were the circumstance which had brought the boy and the man together like this.

Part of the boy wished to yield, to bend his pride, and take the pain if it would spare his mother and siblings but something darker in the boy’s mind forced him to realize that it would never stop. The abuse would continue… there was a necessity here that cried out for a change.

“No, I’m not your son.” The young man of ten whispered into the ground, his head was bowed in thought. Nearby was the workbench, the tools for crafting locks high upon it where he had practiced his stepfather’s craft when he was out of the house were laid out upon the table. His eyes drew themselves towards the butt of a sharpened file that was in sight.
”What did you say boy? Don’t you dare talk back to me! I’ll beat you till your black and blue.” the heavy steps of the man approached and the sound of the belt being taken off could be heard.

Calmly coldly, with no dispassion in his voice the boy spoke again, “No… you’re right. I’m not your son.”

As he could hear his stepfather’s footsteps come to a stop behind he reached out to grab the file off the counter and spun backwards, flinging his arm with the sharp tool sideways into his stepfather’s neck. A gurgling cry could be heard as the boy met a wounded man’s eyes for the first time as his stepfather reached for the tool lodged in his throat.

The mother screams could be heard as the boy stepped back to allow the stepfather to crumple to the ground as the boy started shaking as he realized what he had done. His feet moved away from the body of their own accord towards the door, and then out into the streets. It wasn’t until he turned the corner did the tears come to his eyes and he felt a weight on his chest.

In the camp of sunberth, tears would form on an unconscious man’s cheeks as they began to fall…
Flash forwards…

A man of fifteen lay holding a young woman to his chest. The bloody pool surrounding her told the tale of her demise and her name slipped from young man’s lips here upon the rooftops. She had been the only one he had ever loved, and yet… she had died by his hand.

She had run from the Master, just like he wished to do. Even though he had been forced to try and bring her back… he was supposed to have killed her. In repayment for her betrayal she had been beaten, tortured, subjected to horrors unfit for mentioning, her bones broken and it was months before she was let out to join the job prospects. The master had lulled her into a false sense of security, letting her complete two assassinations before she was to be used as bait for this job. She was a young woman that had been predetermined to play the role of the unknowing scapegoat to cover up the murder of a nobleman. He was tasked with her killing, and had been warned if he did not go through with the deed the other two members of their party would have killed him to take her place. He had been watched constantly since this job began, the others had reminded him they knew the plan… and the young girl’s body wasn’t yet cold. Her corpse would be the ‘evidence’ that the shadow which had slipped the dagger into the mark’s heart was truly dead.

But why then had in the moments before she had died did she reach up to cup his cheek to bring his lips to hers? The time they had spent together last night before seemed to fade in his memory. The young man would remember her laughter at the young man’s hesitation as they had joined as one in the night. But now she was gone… the bloody dagger that spilled the last of her life’s blood still slick in his hand before her eyes had lost the spark of awareness that signified life before her hand fell limply to the heavy roof tiles.

The guards were coming soon, the others were watching in silence, remembering it all in order to tell their masters. The client would handle how the body was used, and had paid an exorbitant price to use this capture of a dead assassin to propel him into the forefront of the political scene to take over the targets powers and authorities. He knew this, but still his limbs were leaden enough to only wish to hold her as the tears came again…

The striking of an arrow nearby caught his notice , but he stayed a few moments… whispering the words, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” Over and over again until the others pulled him away.

In the camp of Sunberth an unconscious man body would have lurched upwards to encircle Canali in his arms and tears would fall into her hair as the words of apologies were whispered to her ears alone until the faintest glimmer of opened eyes could be seen as Antar looked at her seeing a thin theel of color about Canali's features.

Through gritted teeth he muttered as a moment of lucidity returned, "I'm sorry. I don't know what's happened before I wrapped your foot. I- I" Closing his eyes to try to remember, the words tumbled from his lips, "The magic ... I used to inspect your injury... It's... it's wreaking havoc with- I'm sorry, the Whispers make you do things- Don't let me hurt anyone here. Please... Knock me out before then. Please, just knock me out! Damnit!"

The pain lanced into his temples again as the rogue reached his hands up to his head to hold it tightly. He peeked again trying to force his mind to return to normal to still his breathing and begin the meditations but a look of horror would cross his face as the Sweet whispers took hold of him again, and he was forced back into unconsciousness to fall upon the ground once more.

His back arched as his body forced him back down to the ground, his arms hands protectively as if to shield himself from harm, as if he was fighting some unseen foe.

Locked in some silent struggle the thrashing man's body started to roll towards the fire where some coals were still glowing a cherry red.

[Canali]

Canali would have screamed like a banshee when Antar encircled her within his surprisingly strong arms, but the sound was caught in her throat. Idly, Canali realized just what had landed coolly against her skin. He was crying. The only other time Canali had seen Antar cry was after she had accidentally hit him in the groin with a slingshot. Even then, he was soon angry afterwards. This was a different type of tear, also. They seemed more… sad, instead of hurt. Heartbroken. Even though she had no real idea how close she was to the truth, Canali awkwardly held herself still within his shuddering embrace. Truthfully, she was more frozen from shock and full fledged panic than anything else. First he used something such as "magic" which went chaotically wrong, then he was apologizing. Antar, who never apologized for anything. Surprised didn't begin to cover it. What could bring a man so strong to tears? Pushing away the thoughts of her own memory, Canali mentally argued that she wasn't a man and women could cry. Society was so different depending on the gender. Men were expected to be tough and leaders, while woman could be leaders but were usually expected to find meek things to do such as sewing. Even though Sunberth was definitely different, Canali had spotted more than one man being condescending. Canali was nowhere near a feminist, but she expected equal rights of both genders, especially in such a dangerous place where it didn't matter if you were a male or female; you could, and would, be slaughtered mercilessly. Jolting back to the present with Antar's loud and demanding proclamation to knock him out before he hurt anyone, Canali became aware of just how hard Antar was holding her. His fingers cut into her skin and she was sure there would be bruises later. Judging just from how the areas felt, Canali was sure the bruises would last several weeks and be multi-colored. She couldn't lie about the relief which flooded her when Antar released her to hold his own head. Scuffling away from him, Canali kept both eyes narrowed in case of anything else. Far enough away, Canali tenderly held her upper arms and winced at the pain which erupted soon after. Canali tried to convince herself to walk away and ignore Antar's obvious pain. It was, however, impossible to say she wasn't worried. Especially when his body thrashed like a person who was infected with fever. Panic slid through her as Antar seemed to be moving closer to the fire. Cursing when he started rolling, she tried to grab one arm but missed at the last possible second. The fire was still going, but dimming. Launching off of her heels toward him, she fell across his body. Without waiting to see if he reacted, she pushed one hand against his chest,threw one leg over his torso and straddled him to keep him in place. "Antar!" sprouted from her mouth loudly as she slammed an open palm against his cheek. Slap! "Antar?" she whispered. Canali wasn't aware of her promiscuous position until it was too late.

[Antar]

As the man's roll was stopped by a sudden weight on his chest one arm flailed towards the fire, becoming scalded by a hot coal. In reflex the arm jerked sideways out of danger, the back of the arm having a slightly red tinge from being burned. It was the same reflexive action as if one had jerked their hand away from a hot stove. But in the rogue's mind it hand a slightly darker meaning.

He could see the cherry red glow of the heated metal rod in front of him, wielded in that man's hand. The man who had found him, trained him to kill. The rod was pressed against skin and the sizzling smell of flesh as pain arced through his body as the wound was closed. But then the rod was lifted again and stuck towards the muscle of the thigh as the heat began to burn another portion of his flesh.

"Pain, pain is useful even if it can be ignored for a time. It is a means of knowing one's still alive. Some sects teach others to be selfless, attaining perfect order and balance even at the cost of their own desires. The Anu Cult for instance. They are hard to track, and even harder to kill. They don't feel pain like you are doing now. Their goddes of Gnora grants them the ability to dull their senses till they are no more then a sack of logic and useless flesh. But we're not like that , are we?"

"No."

The rod descended again, this time along the young man's back bearing him to the floor.What is our view on pain?"

"It is something that can be ignored when we have need to, but to inflict it on another is true pleasure."
"Yes, but you seem troubled to inflict such things when there is no need for it. Even if you seem to be able to extract information from others when it is necessary, even when a client demands a painful death of the mark you were ordered to kill you didn't follow through though? Sure, they ended up dead. But they failed to suffer as much as the client paid for. Why is that?"

The young man spat to the ground. "Things changed, the situation changed."

"Don't you dare lie to me boy! I know what happened!"...

Flash backwards further...

He was standing in the room, naked. The mark, an old man was dead. The man had possessed a penchant for ... eccentricities and the client who wished him dead wanted him to suffer just as much as he had done at the old man's hands. Had wanted the perverted sack of flesh to feel the pain he had caused others.

The young man hadn't cared for that, he had simply sliced his throat and waited now for the better part of a bell to think that it had been time enough before he took a metal candelabra from the table and crushed the man's arms and legs to make it look like the contract had been completed as intended...

Flash forwards

Death was death, painful deaths were ... uncomfortable for him. He lived in a world where if death was a necessity he would make it as quick and efficient as possible. He hated the waste and the mess. There was no need to skewere a man and pull his guts out upon the ground to let him linger until death. Not when a broken neck would suffice. It was something his Master seemed to want to impress upon him. The terms of a contract were inviable, even if the manner of killing specified was distasteful to him.

His eyes looked up towards the man and he spat to the ground from cracked lips, "I told you... the situation had changed."
"Lies!" the Master spat, and promptly backhanded him across the face. "Now, tell me the truth boy!"

"It wasn't necessary you petching vagik! Dead is dead!" The Master raised the rod again and the young man smiled a moment before he braced himself for the inevitable blow. He slipped deeper into his memories at that time to escape the pain... as a hand was raised again.

For some reason the smell of tea pervaded his nostrils...

In the camp, Antar's arms lurched up to encircle Canali protectively as he pulled her towards his chest, one hand reaching up behind her as if to ward off a blow from an unseen opponent.

Flash backwards

Children laughing cruelly, a weight on his chest as he stood in the streets. In his arms his younger sister, only fourteen years old now, cowered from the ire of the bullies and her snotty nose burrowed into his chest as his arms held her tightly. She stank of the beverages, cheap ale, tea and wine which had been dumped over her.

The girls she had been having problems with had summoned their older siblings to accost her on the way home from lessons today, and he'd come along through the markets just at the right time to snatch her up protectively. Some of the boys were larger then him and he was at a disadvantage as he tried to lash out one foot towards his opponents gut.

He saw another boy coming to swing something from the side and he turned protectively , placing his body between his sister and the harm which was coming towards her. The blow brought the boy to the ground and hecursed being a child in this gods forsaken city as his heart beat a mile a minute. No one here cared about the lives of the peasants, unless your parents were a crafter or someone of note to the local religious leaders. If you weren't that, you were some tool for any upper class bastard child's amusement. Easily beaten to a pulp just for a laugh. Tears of pain , and fury flowed from his eyes as he wept openly , making the other boys laugh.

His anger was riled and he responded in kind, whipping his right elbow up into the little bastard's face... as he was stuck fighting amidst the streets of his home city. He hadn't been home in some time though, he had left that place in one night of violence. Left to make his life on the streets.

There was a flash of movement from the corner of his eye as a meaty hand reached down to grab around his neck from behind to begin to choke him. His sister was pulled from his arms screaming as another boy raised a club. The boy shouted a denial, to hit him, not her; but it was no use as the other boy brought the club down with a heavy blow. After a sickening thud, the girl was silent and would scream no more.

In anger, he'd slam his head backwards into the nose of the one holding him and lurch forwards to press his hands around her killers throat in a bloody rage as the others began to kick and beat him. But he didn't let go until the light fled from the boy's eyes, didn't succumb to unconsciousness even as the ones assaulting him faded back and pondered if they should sink the scum in the river.

His last thoughts as he was picked up and carried on the boys shoulders was that he would get strong enough to come back and kill every last one of them...

Outside the dream he lay shivering in summer air of the the camp as a kind woman was being held against his chest. From his lips the words tumbled, as a tear made its way down the man's cheek. In a stupor, as the fight drained out of him, and his arms went lax. Canali would hear. "I'm sorry sister... I couldn't protect you. I'm sorry... I'm so sorry you died."

[Canali]

Canali was petrified. Again. Antar had her curled against his chest again, as if to protect her from an unseen enemy. Her thighs ached from the strain of being parted in such a way and her bent over. Uncomfortable beyond belief, Canali couldn't help but sigh in relief when Antar's arms let her go. Because she was so close, the moist breath bounced off his face and smacked against her own cheeks. Antar was shivering. Canali listened to Antar's words about his sister. No wonder he was such a jaded person. Canali forced her mind to be somewhat rational and think about this new information. Had he watched his own sister die? Or simply heard of it and believed it was his own fault? Canali couldn't figure it out; wasn't quite sure if she wanted to know. Forcing the fear away, Canali tried to figure out exactly what she was feeling. This was the closest she had ever been to Antar. Literally and figuratively. He had never opened up to her and even seemed to only tolerate her presence. Canali had an ulterior motive to hanging around Antar. She wanted to sleep with him. The thought came out of nowhere, invaded Canali's mind like a thief in the night. The idea was preposterous. Antar was Antar. He showed no attachment emotions. The main emotion Canali was around was anger… at her. Canali had never even heard of him using a less than moralized woman of the night. Pushing the trickle of jealous backwards, Canali tried to figure out why she was physically attracted to Antar. It only took a few chimes before Canali reached a solid conclusion: She really didn't know why she wanted Antar, she just did. Using her hands on his chest to push upwards, Canali blushed scarlet when she realized exactly what this looked like to anyone else in the camp. Canali was straddling Antar, her pant bottoms riding up by her knees, and her hands on his chest. Her hair was huge, proof of her tossing and turning in her sleep. Her tank top had been shifted lower than it should have been on her chest in the struggle and a blush stained her cheeks. Had they looked closer, they might have noticed the tear tracks on the man's face, or the quickly blackening bruises on her upper arms. They might have seen how Canali had been paler than death itself, or how Antar was too still to even seem alive. Sliding one leg over him, Canali brought her legs back together, set her feet on the ground, and waited. She knew her weight wasn't enough to cause harm to Antar. After fixing her pant legs and her shirt, Canali started the waiting process. It was within the next bell when Antar's eyes slid open. Canali was sitting on his torso, elbows on her knees and chin in her hand, facing the fire. Her grey eyes were staring into the distance in thought. Having remade a cup of tea, it sat by her feet. Where he had gripped earlier on her arms was bruised an almost black coloring, with grey and blue. Easily in the shape of hands. So deep in thought was Canali, she had yet to actually notice his awakening state.

[Antar]

For the longest time, Antar simply lay there with his eyes awake as he concentrated on breathing. The past few hours were a bit of a blur and his head hurt worse then an entire weeks imbibement of alcohol. Not that he partook of the stuff. He hated when his thoughts were unclouded. Trying to make some semblance of things he noted a faint burning sensation in his left hand, probably from a coal of the fire. But the one thing he noticed more then that he noticeds was the presence of the rather lithe young woman currently sitting on his chest to keep him still.

Or rather she might have just been the type to use him for a chair if she so wished. How the hell did he end up this way? He'd been flittering in and out of consciousness for the better part of an hour, noticing slight glimpse of his world until whatever it was ran its course. He remembered the feel of Canali against his own, and the flush of her cheeks through the glimpses of consciousness. Sometimes surrounded by colors, sometimes not. But he couldn't make hide nor hair of it. So he lay still, and faded out again until waking up for the last time to remain awake.

The rogue was as still as he could be as he simply concentrated on breathing. He would have been cold, and shivering he was sure, if not for her warmth... and he vaguely came to the conclusion that his shirt had been ripped. So he concentrated on breathing more, which was quite hard to do with a irate woman currently sitting upon him.

Eventually as the strength began to come back to him, even as the fatigue remained he force himself up, sliding Canali down to sit upon his lap as his arms encircled her to pull her closer. He had a strange peculiar sensation that he wanted to protect her, but also... a strange form a guilt welling up deep inside. "I'm not too clear on what happened while the whispers took me, Canali. But thank you. Whatever you did must have saved my life, I think. I'm sorry for whatever that made you go through..."

He paused a moment trying to find the words, "What I used to try to assess your leg was Auristics, granted its not something I use often, but there are side effects when the whispers start. I tend to get rather... absorbed into the aura of what I'm seeing. I can see a person's emotions, respond to them, and I feel a strong desire to just be in their presence. I'm sorry, as I said, I can't quite be clear on what happened. But whatever happened. I apologize and beg your forgiveness. What-" He lost his train of thought for a moment before a simple plea came from his lips. "What did I do? Did I frighten you somehow? Please tell me what happened, otherwise... otherwise I don't think I'd trust myself around you again."

[Canali]

Canali was cold. Not the type of cold which left a body on the verge of hypothermia, but an internal chill that coated her lungs and restricted mercilessly. One which made her heart seemed made of pure stone and kept her spine terrifyingly straight. Though her mood from the early morning, when Antar had first come to awaken her, had returned, Canali's lip didn't curl upwards in a feral snarl. There were no adjustments made, no movements to counteract Antar as he encircled her in his arms again. He bumped her new bruises, but she did not recoil or cringe away. A dull throbbing overtook her bandaged ankle. Canali was sure she would turn to a block of ice had there been nothing to remind her she was human such as the sprained muscle. An air of fragility had overtaken her, even while trying to be overrode by strength. Canali barely held the anger and fear at bay; kept it from flooding her eyes and spewing from her mouth. Antar would not hear her thoughts. She would see to it personally. In the back of her mind, she was aware of Antar thanking her. Thanking her. As if she had committed a good deed. How absurd. He was part of the camp and her body craved him, of course she would take care of him if he was in danger or pain. Antar would rub it in her face should he learn of her lust. There was also the other scenario of him smiling sadly and trying to let her down easy. Canali wasn't quite sure which one was worse. Either one would end their disjointed friendship. Canali wasn't willing to risk losing an ally in the deadly game Sunberth played with people. Numbly, Canali realized they really had no friendship at all; they were both just trying to survive and sought a collaborator. The comprehension that if they were to "end" whatever friendship they had wouldn't even disturb her, Canali wondered what this was called then. Associates. Trusties. Never friends. Trying to stick a metaphorical label to Antar's name, Canali organized him in the "Allies & Gang" file of her mind instead of the one stamped "Future Prospects". She refused to lead herself on; refused to soften to him and see him as even a good petch. He was nothing to her. Currently, the man in question was asking what he had done. Pleading with her to tell him. Spewing lies of not trusting himself around her again if he frightened her. What nonsense. They would see one another again. They were in the same campsite, after all. How could one avoid the other for very long? Canali wanted to avoid him; wanted to know the secrets of being able to escape from the metaphorical grasps of a predator. Needed to use the tricks against Antar. Rationally, she knew evading Antar would not last long. That didn't mean she wasn't willing to try to forestall an encounter for a later time. Keep him from finding out her latest realization. Keep him and his "whispers" away from her in general. The man was nothing but trouble and trash. Since she was seated sideways in his lap, Canali was able to tilt her head upwards to meet his eyes. A hard glint lay in hers. Little less than emotionless windows into a side of Canali Antar had yet to actually see. A smile without warmth twisted her pink lips upwards at the tips. A lie fell easily from her mouth, a perfect replica of casual. "It was nothing. I've already forgotten." Her voice didn't shake and she didn't tremble. For all he knew, she could have been telling the truth. "If you will please release me from your hold…" Trailing off, Canali lifted one of his hands by unnaturally cold fingertips and set it away from her before repeating with the other. One last time she met his eyes, her own a hardened impassive wall akin to remote and detached. Moving smoothly to her feet and ignoring the jabbing of her ankle, Canali nodded to him. "If you will excuse me, I have things that need tending." An icy chill passed through her, but her rigid stance didn't falter or shudder. "You might want to get that burn checked out." Canali strode away, forced herself not to limp; not to register the weakness of her body. In more ways than one. Idly, she watched as Katahr slipped back into her tent carrying a field mouse. The poor creature was still twitching and convulsing. How could a kitten be so free when Canali herself felt trapped in a deadly game of cat and mouse?