Night Music [Nira'lia, Sariana, Sylkra]

[Pash'nar]

Timestamp: 79 Spring 512, Sunset Location: The Suvan Sea The sun would be setting soon, or at least, that was the best guess anyone could make. It was raining—it had been raining all day—pouring, really. The sea was angry and rough, darkened by the heavy clouds overhead. Everything was wet, slippery, soaked. The wind whipped the waves and cut through exposed skin, still chilly this far out at sea and with the bite of hard rain. The Tidewater family and Pash'nar had been busy holding it all together in the storm, keeping the palivar on course while Kyala was out scouting in the false Svefra's casinor. The tattooed sailor was beginning to worry the seas were too rough for her to come back for hours, leaving him helplessly trapped on board the palivar with his three passengers … and his unspoken (to all but one) secret. The deck was slick with both rain and saltwater, the ship tossed side to side enough that waves toppled onto the deck, soaking anyone standing in their way—as if everyone wasn't wet enough from the pouring rain enough as it was. Pash was stationed with one of the youngest, Yenna, manning the main sail ropes to keep them on course. He wasn't in a position to sneak away before night fall. He could only hope the winds died down enough to calm the waves so Kyala could approach in his casinor and he could make his escape. He was at least too busy to look concerned, teeth grit against the burn of wet rope that had ripped into his palms half the day, soaked and scraggly and very on-edge. This was going to be a petching mess if something didn't change. The sea obviously had different plans.

[Nira'lia]

OOCWasn’t sure if we were following the last thread’s posting order, so forgive me for jumping in. The sea seemed dangerous today. Nira'lia remembered the terrible storm that had fallen earlier that season. The thought made her shiver, and she gave a silent prayer to the Gods and Goddesses to keep them safe. The sea itself didn't scare her, but its inhabitants did. The rain hit her face violently, and she tightly clutched her coat around her, trying to stay as warm as possible. It was all useless because she was drenched to her bones. Her teeth clacked together and she gave a worried look to her companions. The svefra, even the false one, were doing their best to keep the ship on track. She wished she could help, really... but she knew nothing about sailing, and knew she would only get in the way. The boat gave a violent lurch and she shrieked, grasping at anything that she could. She held unto the ship's rail tightly, frightened of being thrown overboard. As soon as she regained her balance, she went to the center of the palivar. She was doing her best to keep herself from being thrown around the deck. With a concerned look, she went to Sariana and Sylkra, wondering if they were okay. She shot the both of them a questioning look and asked, "Can... can you guys swim?" It was a strange question, and one that a person didn't want to hear at a time like this. It wasn't that Nira'lia thought they'd need to swim any time soon, but it was always safer to know just in case.

[Sariana]

Sariana fretted as the ocean sprayed onto the deck, drenching her again and making the boat lurch violently. Below deck she could hear the panicked nickered and whinnies of the horses, and she could pick out Vrathetu's amongst them. Her nerves were stretched to breaking point, unable to help him and unable to stop the rocking of the ship. She had spent most of the day down with the strider to calm him, but eventually the crew had needed help on deck. So she had come up, helping with rigging and whatever else they directed her to do. It had rained all day, and was still raining now...and everyone could only hazard a guess that it was about near-on sunset. The thick roiling clouds in the sky made it difficult to tell.

Pushing thick wet locks out of her face, the warrior steadied herself against the mast at the center of the boat, glancing at Nira'lia as she spoke. With a wry smile, she nodded.

"I know enough to keep afloat, and...petching hell." Her smile dissipated as she heard Vrathetu's whinny again. It tore at her from the inside out. Taking a deep breath, she pushed off the mast and moved towards the kelvic, putting her arm around the wolf both for comfort and to comfort in return. Her eyes wandered to tattooed sailor helping with the main sail. Pash, he called himself, their scout and guide. She hadn't really seen much of the man since they joined him on the larger ship, either he was on his small boat or working with the crew. The drykas had avoided the svefra since they had boarded, his insult towards her horse leaving a definite mark. But it wasn't just that. He bothered her in a way that wasn't his fault. The brunette found herself watching him without realizing, staring almost, when she saw him on deck. It frustrated her, and often Sariana would find herself angrily tearing her eyes off him and stalking off.

Then there was the bitter feeling of loosing something before she'd had a chance to discover it. The ethaefal...he haunted her dreams...the young woman finding herself waking with a start almost every night. She spent a lot of time staring at the moon, when the sun had gone down. They had been...just two strangers passing by. Ships in the night. But she'd never met anyone like him before, and she couldn't forget him.

"Damn this storm." The brunette growled, stroking the top of Sylkra's head.

"You should be inside with Vrathetu, where its safe." Sariana said with concern. She knew the wolf hated being on the ship, and it worried her.

[Sylkra]

((In wolf form))

Sylkra growled and snarled at the man leading them to danger. She could sense he was looking for it. He wasn't looking for them to get hurt, but looking for excitement. Her head flicked over to Sariana who was walking toawrds her in the growing storm. Her growl lessened a bit. Sariana, the girl who loved her.

Sylkra turned her head back to Pash, he called himself. The storm was pouring water and rain onto Sylkra's fur. If it weren't for that, her hackles would be raised all the way. This could not go on. She silently moved toward him, canines ready. The man was not worthy of Sylkra's trust. She would have to leap on him once more.

Sylkra waited until she was right behind Pash. His hands were gripped firmly on the steering wheel. She raised her butt, and lowered her stomach, ready in position. Her eyes blazed with anger. This time, she would surely go for his hand. Then he wouldn't be able to drive.

She leaped, fangs outstretched. She was going to topple on top of him and hopefully pin him onto the floor.

[Pash'nar]

Sylkra's teeth found only air—not because the dark-haired sailor was aware and dodged so much as everything was in motion in the pouring rain, tumbling and sliding and avoiding self-injury. As the kelvic left the ground, the next storm-tossed swell lurched the palivar sideways, tilting the deck at some terribly disorienting angle. The vessel groaned in protest before righting itself again, but only after scattering those on deck. Yenna yelped, not strong enough to hold on during the toss, and the little Svefra found herself sliding toward the bilgerail as her home tilted in the waves. Pash'nar released his burning grip on the wet rope as soon as she did, unwittingly avoiding Sylkra in order to roll across the deck. Heavier and aimed with only a hair more purpose, the tattooed sailor smashed himself into the railing to keep young limbs from spilling over into the angry sea. Instead, he had a child topple into his chest and old wood lodge itself into his shoulders. It was a fair enough trade for now, though it knocked the air from his lungs and was hardly a skilled or graceful rescue. Looking up through the rain, the false Svefra saw the wolf land where his body had just been standing, watching her struggle to keep her footing as their palivar finally righted itself with the snap of wet sails. Groaning, Pash scooped up the girl, pointing her little frame in the direction of the cabin. He spoke through grit teeth, cold and sore, "Time for you to go inside, lass. I've got it from'ere." Yenna puffed out her chest and stuck out her bottom lip, but decided not to argue. She splashed her way across the soaked wood and left the dark-haired navigator to his post almost alone. He wished he could see the sun. It was already so dark. The ship lurched again, sails caught in the wind and tilting in a direction of their own choosing after he was forced to let go. Wind-swept features set in an expression of frustrated determination, Pash'nar slipped and scrambled his way back toward where Sylkra was still bristling, all teeth and wet fur. "I dunno what th'petch you're thinkin', but 'less you wanna end up in th'sea like a fish, you'd better back th'petch down." Cerulean eyes stared into golden ones without flinching as he growled a warning at the kelvic above the wind. He really didn't want to fight with the beast. Didn't she know he liked her master? Did she not have some animal instinct at all? Surely, his body language spoke the volumes his mouth could not, especially any time he found himself near the Drykas under Syna's glaring light. It was all he could do to keep his hands, and his secret, to himself. He most certainly enjoyed Sariana's company more than he could admit in the daylight, though he avoided her for his own personal safety. He'd taken advantage of the charms of his moonlit form just to bed the swordswoman, if only because he knew his Svefra skin by day did little for his reputation. And because he was impatient. He struggled with niceties. He was aloof and bordered on the untamed—couldn't the kelvic relate? But he also knew what he wanted ... he just usually ended up taking the wrong path to get there. Without waiting for a response from the wolf, he reached for the mainsail line again, but he kept his eyes on Sylkra. If she thought it a good idea to hurt him, then she obviously wanted to drown, "Or d'you know how to keep the mainsail in place inna storm?" He tore his eyes away from her with a hiss, closing them against the sharp, heavy rain and straining to wrestle some form of control back over the rope and the sail. He was thankful he wasn't at the stern with the rudder. There was hardly any sense in steering the ship—they'd just have to recover their course after the storm abated. For now, all he wanted was to keep everyone on deck. Then, he felt it. All the anchors in the sea sank within the cavity of his chest. No. Not yet. This was a bad time for sunset. The kelvic had a front-row seat to what the change of time meant for the ethaefal. The shift in forms was quick but unforgettable in the angry waves and harsh rain: his tan, tattooed skin seemed to fade and pale until it was dusty white and opalescent, with only a hint of the inked markings barely visible under his flesh; strained, well-muscled limbs lengthened, angles sharpened; and the slow curve of horns grew from hair that was now the color of sea foam instead of ravens. It was all in the blink of an eye, a few heartbeats, and yet once the change had completely marked that Syna had set and Leth had risen, it was somehow obvious that the sailor was still himself. Sharper, more aquiline features and a towering height aside, the same foul string of sea-worthy curses tumbled easily off thin, angry lips to express his disappointment in the timing of the storm and the sunset. He still had a rope to hold, secrets be damned. If the wolf wanted to bite him or his obvious, rain-soaked audience had any commentary to add to the petching terrible day, well, he wasn't in a position to care. He didn't look up or change position. The unlikely sailor had nothing else to say for himself, now gleaming in the rain as darkness settled. There were no sideways glances across the watery deck to the Konti who knew or the Drykas who didn't, though he was hard-pressed to hide the ache inside at the way things were being told from his features. That was that.

[Nira'lia]

It all happened in a blink of an eye. Sylkra rushed at Pash'nar, he avoided it by coming to the aid of the young svefra, and then... his form changed. The change was quick but evident, and surely nobody could miss it, especially with the horns now protruding out of his head. "Sylkra!" the konti called out to the kelvic. She wasn't the wolf's master, but she saw no sense in relaying her message through Sariana at a time like this. The storm was violent, and they couldn't waste time. The konti had no idea why Sylkra behaved as such, and she didn't even pretend to guess. In the end though, all she knew was that such behavior might cause them their lives; after all, Pash'nar was the sailor, not them. "Sylkra, let's be careful!" '...You can settle your differences later,' is what she wanted to say. Nira'lia adored the wolf. She knew Sylkra had her reasons, but this wasn't the time to sort through it. Nira'lia looked at Pash'nar to see if he was okay. What met her eyes was a seemingly different person. He was in his nightly body now. Curiously, the konti looked at Sariana to see how the woman would react. Nira'lia knew that her companions were not aware that he was an ethaefal, and the only reason she had found out was because of an accident from days before. She had kept her mouth shut about it -- his secret was his own, and not hers. Suddenly, realization hit Nira'lia's face, and she suddenly went pale. She couldn't see the future, but she could slightly predict it with the information that she had in her mind. At the moment, what she could predict was that Pash'nar's transformation was not going to be something good. Even before she had found out about Pash'nar's secret, Sariana had mentioned to her that she had met a 'horned man' back in Syliras. He was the one Sariana was with during the nights that she left the konti and wolf behind. When Sariana told her about it, and even if she didn't really say much about what happened, Nira'lia saw that the man she was talking about somehow made an impact on her. Nira'lia had been curious, and her curiosity led her to take a peek in Sariana's chavi. Her speculations were right, and the 'horned man' she was talking about was an ethaefal. The moment she saw Pash'nar's ethaefal form, Nira'lia pieced it together: he was the person Sariana had met. It gave meaning to the awkwardness he displayed when Sariana was around. Sariana didn't know who he was, and the fake svefra had decided not to tell her. Nira'lia didn't know what the awkwardness was about though, since all she did was look for a face in Sariana's chavi. She didn't know about what really happened during their nights away. However, one thing she was mildly sure of was that Sariana might not take the trickery lightly. "Hey, Sariana..." Nira'lia managed to squeak out. She moved closer to the Drykas. The violent rocking of the boat and the strong wind made it difficult for her. The woman wouldn't understand her words, but she decided to say it anyway. "Don’t be angry. Please." At that moment, the ship took another violent lurch. Nira’lia found herself being thrown aside. Surprised, she did her best to regain her balance, and prayed to Laviku that he would keep them safe.

[Sariana]

Sariana looked up from the wolf as she stood to stand beside Nira'lia, steading her footing on the deck as another wave washed over them. Inside, the sound of her distressed strider pummeled her heart and the drykas closed her eyes and swore, brow furrowed. Then suddenly the boat lurched, tilting recklessly and throwing the group to the deck, tossing the child clinging to the rope beside Pash to the deck and across the planks. Sariana landed on her back with a sharp thump, before sliding violently across the deck into the railing. Swearing sharply she looked up as she heard a growl tearing through the wind. Sylkra had lept towards the svefra, her teeth bared, again. But the sailor had moved, faster then she could have predicted to catch the girl flung across the deck towards the ocean.

"Sylk! No!" The brunette yelled loudly, struggling to get up in the wet weather and ignoring the pain in her arm where she'd hit the wood. It would bruise, but it wasn't broken. Her first thoughts weren't for Pash, but for the wolf stumbling to regain her balance as the ship righted. Moving past the konti and reaching for the wet creature, she tried to placate the sailor.

"Petch it, she's just on edge, alright. I'll get her below deck, where it's..." Her words froze in her chest, feet stopping at the same time. Sapphire eyes watched from a short distance behind the kelvic as before her, Pash changed. His skin paled, and his body shifted. Tattoos faded and with a eerie grace horns grew from his head. Features became more chiseled, like a statue brought to life sodden by the rain. Standing in the downpour, ship rocking beneath their feet and ocean battering the sides, Sariana stared at the man.

"Pash'nar?" Her heart felt heavy, as though someone had weighted it down with all the thoughts and emotions she had been dwelling on since their night together. Her gaze shifted slowly to Nira'lia as the konti moved towards her, asking her not to be angry. It took a moment for the woman to process her words. Don't be angry...wait. She knew? And she hadn't said a thing. All this time, they had been on the boat, and she hadn't said a petching word. And Sylkra...she seemed so angry at the man...had she known too? Her fists clenched slowly, just as the ship threw them again with a violent wave. The pale konti lost her balance, even as Sariana felt her's shift. Unwavering, the warrior's hand shot out to grab the woman by the arm, bracing herself as the ship shifted back. Her sky-blue eyes met Nira'lia's, and they reflected the hurt she felt inside.

Releasing the konti, the drykas stood before them all. She glanced away from Nira'lia to Sylkra, before looking at Pash'nar. He had made a fool of her, tricked her. And they had all known, and not said a word. They had all made her look like a fool. The drykas felt a blush across her tanned features, as she held her gaze on the ethaefal. It explained a lot, the feeling she ignored whenever Pash...Pash'nar had been on deck with her, the long moments she spent staring at the sailor and pondering why she couldn't shake the feeling of familiarity.

Lifting her chin, the woman didn't say a word. Instead, she turned from them and walked away. As soon as her back was turned, she could feel the warmth of the humiliated tears as they spilled onto her cheeks and mingled with the cold rain on her face. Bracing herself against the side of the cabin as the boat rocked, Sariana quickly slipped inside before she crumbled against the side of the staircase. She allowed herself a moment of sheer release, chest aching as she cried into her hand, slumped against the wall with one hand still gripping the railing. Why hadn't they told her? Why hadn't he told her? Surely he hadn't just used his secrets to bed her.

Surely.

Standing up, the woman sniffed and wiped her hands across her cheeks and eyes, tucking her long black hair back out of her face. Straightening her red skirt and pulling the sopping wet fabric from her thighs, the woman took the rest of the stairs by two. Reaching the bottom, she walked with purpose through the underside of the deck, stopping briefly to press her forehead against that of Vrathetu's as she passed the horses. He whinnied and snorted, pawing at the ground in anxiousness. Moving away, she reached her packs and yanked hard on the two leather bound hilts sticking out from her things. Testing the weight of her rapiers, the warrior took a deep breath. And another. Finally she threw the blades to the ground.

With long strides the drykas climbed the stairs and broke back into the pouring rain. Her blue eyes focused on the ethaefal as she walked along the deck, fists held at her sides and eyes reddened by secreted tears. It was darker now, their figures more silhouettes on the deck then actual people (and wolf). Shoving her way past the other two passengers, Sariana drew her hand back and with clenched jaw, the blue eyed woman punched out, aiming for the ethaefal's moon kissed face.

[Sylkra]

Sylkra hurled herself onto the Svefra, only to miss and land face-forward onto the floor. She gave out a little yelp, and scrambled back onto her feet. Panting, she shook her head, sending water everywhere. The storm had drenched her pelt.

Before she could even realize it, the once Svefra morphed into a Ethaefal. Sylkra just shrugged. It seemed as though everyone had two forms nowadays. Not only that, but she wasn't surprised either. He had the scent of Eathefal since they had first met in Syliras.

Her head turned to Sariana, who was blazed away. Sylkra tucked her tail behind her legs and flattened her ears onto her head. She had disappointed master. Why? What did Sylkra do? Sylkra whimpered and even let out a small howl of misery, short but sweet. She walked toward Sariana and morphed, standing naked in the rain. THe rain plastered onto her skin and it made her shiver, freezing.

She was about to follow Sariana, but stopped, unsure of it. Master had seemed pretty angry, and Sylkra wasn't one who was going to stop her. As soon as the girl came back, Sylkra burst into tears and, croaked,

"What's wrong mast-"

She was cut off by Sariana attempting to wipe out Pash'nar. Sylkra would stop her, but it was against everything she ever knew. Sylkra let her go, she couldn't stop her master. There was nothing she could do, except beg. So, in the heat of the scene, pleaded,

No! Take your anger out on me!"

Hopefully it would be enough to stop Sylkra's most trusted friend.

[Pash'nar]

Pash'nar saw her coming. He heard Nira'lia's mumbled words—a helpless attempt at dissuasion. Sylkra was naked again, human in form but whimpering like an animal. The ship swayed dangerously and protested loudly in the storm and all the ethaefal saw was Sariana moving towards him, a force of nature currently angrier than any weather his imagination could conjure up. In a blur of rain and dark hair in the quickly descending night, the Drykas swung at him without a word. He didn't move. He didn't protest. He didn't raise leather vambraces in self-defense. If he did anything, it was simply to lean imperceptibly—not away, but toward. Cerulean gaze swept across the boat and out to the inky, storm-tossed sea and Pash'nar willingly accepted the forceful blow hurled in his direction. The satisfying slap of knuckle against jaw created a sharp, star-filled pain that was, unfortunately, not so unfamiliar to the ethaefal. He stumbled a few steps, releasing his hold on the rope once again with a grunt. One hand shot out as he desperately tried to keep himself from slipping, snatching the wrist of the swordswoman as she finished the arc of her swing. Without gentleness, blinking through the rain and lingering sting, he yanked Sariana toward him, reaching for her other wrist in anticipation of her protesting to get away. Standing chest to chest in the sway of the ship was familiar enough to soften his expression, but his tone was harsh and firm. It was difficult to stay balanced in the terrible lurching, however, but he would accept no objections. Towering over her, his retaliation was simple: "Petch it, woman, you'n'I both know now ain't the time for misunderstandin's." Sore hands held the Drykas in place, and it was obvious Pash'nar was reluctant to meet her gaze. His jaw ached and the coppery taste of his own blood clung to his tongue as he spoke. This was not quite how he wanted the sharing of secrets to go. He only held her sapphire eyes for a moment before he looked away again, casting an accusatory glare at Sylkra and Nira'lia as he shouted above the wind and the wooden protest of the palivar against the waves, "All'o'you should be belowdecks instead of lollygaggin' at the stormy scenery or the glowy celestial. Get down the petchin' stairs an' let the rest of us do what we can t'hold things together or it ain't gonna matter who's who when you're drowned." His unchanged eyes were just as tempestuous as the weather, and he meant every word. The women weren't Svefra and they certainly hadn't spent years (or decades upon decades) at sea. He'd have put them to work if he wasn't afraid they'd just end up in the way—or worse, overboard. They were in danger either way, and as far as he was concerned, it was not the time to clear the air or apologize. If he was sorry at all, he didn't let the threat on his countenance waver. Whatever he was feeling was hidden under tiredness and worry, "There'll be time for talkin' when it ain't stormin'." With that, he released Sariana in the direction of the hatch to the palivar's cabin and turned away without another word, back to holding things together in the storm. He shouted in Fratava to Kyala's mate at the helm, Cynnus, and set about righting the wind-beaten sails in the proper direction once again.

[Nira'lia]

Stunned, Nira'lia watched the events unfold before her. Sariana was not pleased -- she had expected that. Somehow, she also expected that Pash'nar would catch her anger instead of going against it. However, this didn't mean this wasn't an ugly situation. Resentment, shame and the feeling of betrayal weighed heavily in the air. "He's right! Let's get out of their way!" called out Nira'lia. She gestured towards the cabin and waited for the other girls to follow her inside. Nobody knew when the storm would subside, but it was evident that these three girls were just making the situation more difficult to handle. Nira'lia saw Pash'nar guide the Drykas towards the cabin. Gingerly, Nira’lia placed her hand on the woman's shoulder and urged her to come in. Taking hold of Sariana was not something she feared, as her konti gift had already taken its path the first few days they had met. The vision had given her insight about this woman. She had seen a younger Sariana by a fire, under the stars, and speaking with an old man that Nira'lia could only assume was her instructor. Somehow, her impression of Sariana was a strong and deep woman who would not appreciate being lied to by Pash'nar. Nira'lia found her way to the place where Vrathetu was being kept. The horse looked uneasy. Nira'lia looked over her shoulder, almost sure that her companions had followed suit. Just then, the ship gave another violent lurch. With a gasp, the konti took hold of anything that could keep her balance. In the confines of the cabin, the waves somehow seemed even more frightful. However, not being able to see the storm itself was somehow comforting. The konti took some deep breaths to regain her composure. Then, she glanced at her companions. Her eyes were full of concern. "Sariana, are you okay? I'm sorry about what happened," said the konti. She knew her words probably meant nothing at this point, but she couldn't just sit back without explaining herself. "I found out by accident that he was the guy you mentioned. I couldn't tell you because... well, it wasn't my secret. I hope you understand."