Washout (Ishara)

[Serrif Von Chatlyn]

17th Spring 512AV

Another morning rose waking the world with it. Gently announcing that yesterday was but a memory and today was the start of something new. Today was full of endless possibilities, none of which could be fathomed by those that were about to live it. Again only a fool would claim to know the plans of the Gods. A life lesson that he had learned well through living it. There were plans for him; but he had no idea what they could possibly be. All he knew that for some reason his future seemed to be locking with Ishara’s. But the reasons for this were hidden.

As the sun began to peek up over the horizon Serrif was there to greet it. He had been there for some time on the beach. Here to clear his mind, center himself and reflect. There was so much going on in his life right now. He was helping rebuild The Sanctuary, training Ishara, and trying to keep himself busy making medicine all at the same time. His mind was constantly busy with all kinds of things that flew through it. He hardly had time to pay due attention to one thing before another thought or activity crashed through his mind dismantling whatever came before it.

One thing was for sure he needed to find a little serenity to ease his mind. Emerald eyes looked out over the horizon as the waves changed the landscape before him. A glassy surface was suddenly like a rolling moving plain. The waves making their way lazily to the shore to crash and expend the energy built up in them. A thick black cloud cover made its way toward him. Almost as if at first it was waiting for him to move; however he would not. The clouds seemed to almost wait for a few minutes, as if again warning him of what was to come. Serrif however did not move from his spot in the sand.

Kneeling both knees in the sand and the only layer between him and the world was a pair of black cotton pants and a matching shirt. This way he would be easy to pick out against the ivory colored sand. The wind kicked up as the clouds decided to move on in, rain was coming; however he didn’t mind. He actually preferred having as much sensory stimulus as he could; the sound of the waves, the feeling of the wind and the rain on his body…it would be soothing where others would see it as chaotic. His mind loved input of all kinds.

The heavy black clouds released the rain they held and poured out thousands of droplets onto the sea. It was his last chance to move before getting soaked…again he remained. So in a matter of seconds he found himself being rained on…he didn’t mind. He merely closed his eyes and enjoyed the cool crisp fresh rainwater on his body. It was cold, taking away some of the heat from his warm skin. It was indeed an interesting start to a day. But would Ishara be here to join him? Well he guessed he would have to see.

[Ishara Dossari]

Ishara was not wholly accustomed to storms. They had storms in the desert, but they were few and far between in that baked wasteland she called home. Most of them she'd only ever seen form in the distance, and as a younger woman she'd been awed by the thunder that was carried across the sands. They were rare spectacles, bringers of life-giving water. How she missed the one forming directly overhead was beyond her. After all, it was not every day that a blanket of clouds congealed overhead with the intent to rupture and shed water upon the land...but it had occurred often enough during her stay in Riverfall that she'd picked up on the signs. So why was it with great surprise that she turned her face up to the sky to study the darkening clouds clustering directly overhead. An ominous peal of thunder rippled slowly through the air...and Ishara frowned. She was already almost there. Serriff must be waiting for her. Or would he? Perhaps he'd known of the coming storm quite sooner...perhaps he'd gone back to Sanctuary to wait it out. A moment of hesitation drew Ishara up short as she considered the possibility that no one would be waiting for her on that stretch of shore...before she shook it off. Her eyes combed the shore-line...and they picked out a dark figure in the distance. Serriff? She picked up the pace, jogging across the sands towards their meeting spot. Raj, elated that Ishara had been encouraged to go faster, flicked his tail and raced ahead, his ground-eating lope putting distance between them...fast. Ishara laughed, lengthening her stride. The sand felt good beneath her booted feet, it was easy to shut her eyes briefly and picture home...except for the climate. Cold wind stung her cheeks and stropped the skin of her arms. Her glacial eyes snapped open again, and she aimed for the dark figure, kneeling in the sand. Just as the figure ahead became recognizeable as Serriff, the skies opened up. Ishara's salutation was swallowed by a curtain of rain that soaked her to the skin in a matter of heartbeats. She skidded to a halt, her arms thrown out to either side, a gasp wrenched from her chest as the cold hit her. It was sharp and sudden, stealing her breath. Raj pitched a whine into the air, circling Ishara once and darting towards a stand of lanky palms further up the shore. He paused to glance back, as though waiting... Ishara took one step, and then another...towards Serriff. Calling out over the rhythmic pattering of the rain slapping the wet sand, she was beathless and shivering, and as a result her softly accented tone emerged in stuttering bursts. "Serriff!...Why--what are you...d-doing?"

[Serrif Von Chatlyn]

He heard her…felt her before she spoke a single word. Absence of one sensory input did indeed seem to heighten the others. Footfalls in the sand, both hers and her dogs woke his mind from one thing to another. He always did seem somewhat scattered internally as to what to focus on. But if he took away one thing he found the others became easier to hone to a point. Without seeing he found it easier to feel what was around him.

The cold rain on his body soothed his warm skin…it was a familiar feeling from his past. Even if it was an unpleasant one it was still familiar. The wind caressed him almost chaotically and a slight smile came to his face. All familiar…even if in a horrible way. He hadn’t ever really known luxury before The Sanctuary. He never had a bed that he could remember, he merely slept on the earth. He had been at the mercy of the elements for so long it was strange to have an actual room around him and a stable earthen roof above his head. Odd, and unfamiliar to him; it was all something he was getting more and more used to slowly.

He heard her call to him asking what it was he was doing…interesting question because he didn’t even know what he was really doing right now. He was here, and that was about it in his mind. Waiting…he was waiting for her. But now that the cold rain had enveloped him he wasn’t sure what all he hoped to accomplish here. Slowly he took measured breaths and opened his eyes, at first his vision cloudy a little from the water that streaked down his face. But with a few blinks that changed and he saw Ishara shivering some. She was a child of the desert; this kind of wet cold had to be foreign to her. Nevertheless there was much more of this where they were going.

“Where we are heading it will be far colder than this, and the rain will be frozen chilling your body to the bone. Yes, this is cold but where I plan to go it will be far colder.” And this was the truth. There was a window of opportunity to get to Windreach and the latest he could leave…well was the end of summer.

Until then he had to prepare himself physically for the dauntless task ahead of him. It was going to be a test for both of them and it was bet to know now if she was going to measure up with him. There was only so much he could do to really see what she was willing to do. The real test would come on the road when they were tired, hungry and cold for long periods of time. Only then would he know if he had made the right decision. But for now he would gently introduce her to the realities that would doubtlessly face them out there on the trip that he had decided to take.

“This is a small taste, but you can beat cold. It is mind over matter Ishara.”

[Ishara Dossari]

Mind over matter...! Ishara grimaced and blinked the raindrops out of her eyes. They clung to her eyelashed, saturated her hair and clothes, and soaked her to the skin. What was more, they kept comming, in sheets and wind-driven waves. Had ever so much water fallen from the sky? Probably. But Ishara had not been there to judge it, that was certain. No, this was something far different from the storms she was accustomed to. The sound of water slapping the sand became a dull murmur, something which Ishara had to raise her voice over to be heard correctly. "And...exactly how---" she began, a cross frown tugging her brows into a scowl...but before she could finish, a flash of white-hot light lit up the sky, and a peal of thunder cracked overhead. Ishara flinched, and ducked instinctively. Raj bolted up the beach for cover. With a touch of her old resolve, Ishara sank from the crouch to the sand, wrapping her arms about her knees and pinning Serriff with a reproachful look. Sand storms could rage like this one. They could blister your skin, fill your eyes and throat and lungs with caked dust, turn your water into clay...they were rough, but one could withstand them so long as they knew how. A child of the desert learned these things from the very start. Perhaps that was the trick here...learn how to withstand it. Still, something within Ishara still insisted that shelter was a good option during any storm... "As I was saying...how shall I go about this mind over matter?"

[Serrif Von Chatlyn]

It was hard for him to put words to; mind over matter only really began to explain it all. He HAD to develop this ability in order to survive. It was a necessity for him, because he spent many lonely nights cold with little to nothing covering him. There were times when a thin layer of molten snow would cover him…and that was the only white blanket he ever knew. People died by the dozen in winter. It was a joke really to see if he would die next, bets were placed but he still lasted…still held out. And because of this he had an almost unshakable resolve. Cold no longer shook him like it did many others; it almost didn’t even occupy a place in his mind.

He smiled slightly looking to Ishara; she was used to the desert. The exact polar opposite of the cold. There she likely never experienced a cold as deep as this in the desert. And even if she did the warmth of the sun was never to far away. But now, the sun was hidden, and even if it did expose itself the relief would only be minor. But though all this he remembered one thing.

“It is easier at first to suffer together.” The words came from his mouth almost detached from his own awareness. Like he spoke a profound truth that he had been hiding up to this point. It was almost like he was unaware he spoke the words at all…then he saw her reaction and knew he had indeed spoken his very mind.

It was true, he remembered the Konti who suffered with him and having the very presence of another made everything easier for him. Her warmth, not being lonely so many other things no longer mattered if someone else was present. His emerald depths focused on her intently and without thinking he did what he felt was right. Gently offering her a hand when she took it he helped her into him. Pulling her body to press against his chest; this was indeed getting somewhat intimate.

His right hand gently laid against her spine holding her against him with his hand resting at the back of her head gently holding her against him. His left hand wrapping around her as well. She would be on her knees now as was he her body pressed against hers. She would begin to feel his warmth, and his Konti gift as well. His next few words came to her almost like a whisper, like sweet utterings of one lover to another. His voice low and precise into her ear. She was smaller than him, and her body was easily enveloped by his.

“Don’t think about the cold, nor the rain. Push it aside and focus on something bigger than you. Think about why you are doing this, why you need to make it through. Mill through it in your head and focus on that one thing. Push the cold all the pain away from you. Like it doesn’t exist, that what you are doing this for is greater then how uncomfortable you feel in this moment.”

[Ishara Dossari]

Ishara felt herself tugged forward, and for a heartbeat she fully gave into the forward propulsion in the belief he was insisting on some training move or gesture. But the realization of her error surfaced as she felt Serriff's hands slide around her, and she went rigid with surprise as they tightened her against him. His chest expanded against her own as he breathed in, and the warmth of his sigh against her skin had her sucking back a deep breath of her own. Then the warmth seeped in. The heat from his skin flashed through the wet fabric, igniting something else entirely within Ishara. He pulled her closer, and she found herself relenting, melting, rolling like a slow wave against him...His voice nearly startled her, despite it's hushed quality... Don't think about the cold... Ishara swallowed thickly. Cold? What cold? A tremble went through her that had nothing to do with the state of the weather, and silently Ishara cursed her treacherous body. How did she get here? What was going on? She tried to surface through the heady sweep of emotion and managed to meet the dark well of his emerald gaze for the flicker of a heartbeat. Push it aside and focus on something bigger than you... Bigger? An entire world of intimate realization had just sprung upon her, and she was being asked to focus on something bigger? Rain fell heavily from above, causing her to blink as fat drops pelted her cheeks. Distantly, she was aware of her own arms moving, her fingertips plucking at the hem of his black shirt, sliding her palms beneath it, her fingertips encountering the silken ridges of scars. She clung to him, as though feeding off the heat his body gave off, her startled heart gradually slowing as she focused on breathing in, and out... What was she doing? This was not supposed to be--! This was... confusing as hell! The thought surprised a smile from her, and she hid the bewildered grin against Serriff's shoulder as she leaned into him, inhaling the scent of his skin through wet fabric. She had no idea what this was all about. Intimacy was such foreign territory for her, that Ishara had bolted like a startled filly from the sorts of gestures that hinted at...something more. Except here she was, being forced to confront her frustrations with her own awkwardness... Like it doesn’t exist, that what you are doing this for is greater then how uncomfortable you feel in this moment... Ishara struggled to override her body's greed, to shift a little, to shut her eyes tight against the flow of rain and the prick of frustrated tears that stung behind her lids. Her unsteadyness gradually receded, her breathing evened out, and even the rapid wingbeats of her heart had slowed to something resembling normalcy. Her grip on Serriff had slackened, and she tested her senses by sliding her palms back and forth across his back, her eyes like twin pools of rainwater as she glanced up at him. "You're right. It's...not so bad," she murmured, her worlds almost drowned out by the rhythm of pouring rain.

[Serrif Von Chatlyn]

It was cold, despite any belief of the contrary. Spring here in Riverfall especially along the beach was unforgivably cool. The wind whipped away any heat but here holding Ishara he too felt the bonus of suffering together. Just like he remembered in the camp. It was always harder to suffer alone…those were the darkest and roughest nights. His body shuttered a little when her hands met his silken scars. None touched him in quite that way. Kavala had done so as if to examine him, and others had to out of inquiry. But Ishara…there seemed to be a different drive behind it entirely.

“It isn’t…” He answered her as she commented on the fact that it was indeed not so bad.

It was odd, holding a woman from somewhere so far and yet they had something in common. Both of them were far from home just trying to get by. They had been woven together into something far bigger than them and now here they were; somewhere ready to be something more than just acquaintances. But did she know what she wanted? Would she let her emotions sway her like she seemed to be? Serrif had tried to learn to suppress some of his emotions, especially some of the more destructive ones…like attraction. He tried, but failed miserably at times. And now…now was definitely one of those times.

“It is easy when there is someone else” He lowered his head to whisper into her ear gently.

“Because you can focus on them instead of the suffering.” His breath was warm on the side of her face indicating just how close he was to her. Just how much larger than her she was. He encompassed her easily. Arms like long branches wrapping around her body.

His grip on her still held firm, keeping her close to him; he didn’t want to let her go. No, it was a sort of intimacy that he didn’t often share. Being this close suffering together. Plenty would die for someone, fewer would die with someone…and even fewer would suffer openly with another. He was beginning to believe he would do all three for Ishara…which was dangerous.

[Ishara Dossari]

Focus...

Ishara inhaled deeply, and the scent of his damp clothing mingled with that of the rain and the salty ocean. It was a myriad she had to shut her eyes to appreciate, so different was each of the components...the sweet smell of damp cotton, the sharp flavor of the ocean, the lush, green taste of the rain that sheeted down around them, obscurring his words...

Words that were being pressed warmly against her ear in a hushed tone. The feel of his breath against her neck...

Now, why did he have to go and do that? Ishara glanced up at him sharply, blinking through the raindrops clinging to her lashes as she studied his expression. What was he getting at, here? Had he any idea what this was doing to her?

By Yahal's grace, do even I?

The question furrowed Ishara's brow, illustrating the confusion masking her features. The cold seemed to have ebbed away for the moment, it's effects shoved to the back of her mind and deemed 'less important' than what was being kindled by this unexpected embrace.

Trust... That was the big issue, here. Trust. She had to trust this man, this healer of light, this castaway with a past...He was her guide, here. Her trainer. Her mentor. Could that be what this was all about? Learning how to trust? Ishara frowned softly, uncertain and lacking much proof to back up her notions, judging by the rapid return of her pulse pounding in her ears...

"I'm not suffering."