Closed Lost and Found (Kalesse)

[Aidus]

3 Winter, 512AV Throbbing, pounding, this was a headache which would never go away. Aidus was still unsure of what had happened. His last memory was falling face first into the sands of this seemingly endless desert. Moyi had been lost. All had been lost. He should have died. Instead, he simply hurt. Everywhere. Flashes of light, swirling, growing, fading, changing, never constant. He had cried out for help, for water, for anything that could make it stop. It felt as though all the liquid in his body had been removed, leaving the Drykas man as nothing more than a husk of his former self. There were moments, moments where he could hear the voices, but he couldn't understand their words. Muffled, distant, foreign. Like he was underwater, the sounds were distorted, but all he knew was they were keeping him alive. Nearly blind, the shapes were nothing more than black blobs, but as suddenly as they would appear, they would disappear. Never for too long, at least that's what it seemed. Until this last time. Though he could never quite tell what was going, there seemed to be a routine, so when it changed, the young Drykas man realized it. But he was just too tired, too drained to care. Sleep came unwillingly. ... Anyone who would enter the room would find Aidus lying on a mat, half the man he once was, deep in slumber. Beside him were a small gathering of what appeared to be personal belongings. That was it. No one else was in the tent, no one was around. It was like they all left suddenly, and had no time for this man and his things. Sleeping peacefully, he was oblivious to the comings and goings of anyone. Vulnerable to any threat, yet at the same time nonthreatening himself. Whatever had occurred found it fit to spare Aidus.

[Kalesse]

“Hard” couldn’t accurately describe the level of difficulty Kalesse had been subjected too in making the decision to return to her tribe before they moved on for Winter. Ahnatep, as much as she disliked it, had quickly become her home, a place she tolerated for the benefits of being near her two greatest friends.

It was impossible to decipher the rest of her emotions as images of Chiaja and Gideon floated through her mind, each of them plucked a distinctive tune on her heartstrings. One greatly outweighed the other in this time of goodbyes, though the young woman refused to dwell and allow herself to figure out which was which. Deep down she knew the answer would be unsettling and nothing that she was ready to face yet.

Not when she was going back to her family. Nothing could spoil that.

Haizea whickered softly, that slender gray head swiveling around to peer at her mistress who, for the last dozen chimes or so, had been brushing the same spot on her flank. The sleek silver fur gleamed with perfection, not a speck of dust to be found; the young woman blushed and placed an apologetic hand on the mares nose. Whuffing against her fingers, Haizea forgave Kalesse while looking for a treat.

“None today girl. We have a long ride ahead of us.” Ears pricked, the mare lifted her head and bobbed it up and down as if in understanding and excitement. A smile twisted the young woman’s pensive frown into a smile and she couldn’t help but laugh softly. “I know. I’m excited to see them too.” It took only moments for the saddle and bridle to be applied, Haizea lead from her stall before the bulging packs were piled on last.

“Are you ready, girl?” The streets of Ahnatep had been more or less deserted in the early morning, so Kalesse was through the gates in no time. At the question, she loosened her grip on the reins and allowed them to slide through her fingers. Haizea didn’t have to be asked twice, immediately taking advantage of her head a surging forward into the sand. Laughing in delight, the young Chaktawe woman sat deep and let her free hands bounce and dip with the wind as it ripped past, the gell-filled pores on her fingers vibrating until her entire hand was numb. Oh, how she had missed this.

It had been three days since she left Ahnatep, having taken her time on the journey, savoring the last few moments alone that she would have for a long time. It wasn’t until dusk was beginning to fall on the third day that Kalesse reached the sea of canvas that was the Tatsuwaat Tribe’s camp.

A boisterous place, there would be the sounds of laughter, song and story mingling with pitched arguments and shouting matches that accompanied too many adults in one place. Children would run and play throughout the tents, dogs and horses making their own voices heard above the din of daily life. Though not all were blood relation, Kalesse thought of them all as family and her heart nearly jumped into her throat when she thought of seeing them all again finally, to hear the shouts and sounds of people loving live and living it to the full. The camp was loud in every good way possible.

Or, it should have been.

It was the silence that chilled Kalesse to the bone; the closer she got, the quieter it was. There were no songs or arguments, no children or animals. Even the wild creatures of the sands seemed to have disappeared, the wind the only thing occupying the forlorn looking tents, whipping the bits of canvas back and forth so that the snapping of the fabric was all that could be heard.

Stunned into disbelief, Kalesse didn’t dismount as she urged Haizea into the camp, having stopped just outside the edge of the tents for a moment or two. Sensing her mistresses distress, Haizea was less than willing to step into the shadows until the young Chaktawe was forced to jamb her heels into the mares sleek sides.

“Where is everyone?” Though the mare had no way of answering even if she did know, Kalesse spoke aloud just to fill the silence and to distract herself from the wrongness that surrounded her. Everyone was gone. Simply gone. And they left everything behind them. “Why would they just…”

There was a sound to her right, both mare and rider jumping nearly out of their skin as a rumbled growl emanated from behind the closed canvas flap of a nearby tent. Haizea tried to rear in her panic, attempting to wheel and flee, Kalesse only barely managing to restrain her mare. Sliding nimbly from the saddle, the young woman moved to her horses head and made calming noises, whispered words that attempted to calm the frightened animal. It took a handful of chimes, but eventually Haizea stood still, her head hanging low and her sides heaving as she puffed, exhausted.

“You stay, I’m going to go see what that was…” Securing the reins to a nearby tent, Kalesse withdrew the dagger she barely knew how to use from her packs and, with it held defensively out in front of her, approached the tent. “Who is there!” Keeping her voice sharp and cold to hide any trembling of fear, Kalesse waited a tick or two for a response. When none came, she stepped back and to the side, opening the flap with the tip of her dagger while trying to keep the majority of her body out of the way; should something try and ambush her, she could probably (hopefully) dodge the attack.

But nothing came.

More shaken than if something had lept out at her, Kalesse took a deep breath and slid quickly into the tent, at the same time that the growl sounded again. With a sharp yell, Kalesse flung herself towards the sound and landed atop something squishy, her dagger held firmly down against it. “Stay Still!”

Panting, Kalesse shouted her order as her eyes adjusted quickly to the darkness within the tent, taking only ticks for her to realize that she was straddling a rather sick looking man, alone and unarmed in his tent, and apparently asleep.

The rumble had been a snore.

[Aidus]

Aidus was unaware of the presence of anyone else at this point. The exhaustion, the dehydration, and the general lack of health had left him a husk, so the approach of a young Chaktawe woman went unnoticed. His condition had left him with an interesting side effect. A snore. A horrific snore, likened to that of a vicious beast, a terrible lion, a sound that none hoped to hear out in these deadly sands. A predator. It was, of course, only Aidus, and he couldn't possibly have been any more harmless, but that didn't stop an aggressive woman from mounting him. If it were any other situation, Aidus would have freaked out and fought off embarrassment. He was never quite sure how to deal with women, so to have one atop him... This time, however, Aidus was barely coherent. He exhaled heavily as she pounced, the air forced from his lungs as the Drykas man felt cold steel against his skin. A quiet moan escaped from his lips, as his eyes opened, scanning the tent wildly until they focused on his assailant. She was blurry, but it was certainly a woman. She was holding a dagger to him, as though he was some threat. The man was nearly dead, and it seemed this woman intended to make it so. Perhaps he had worn out his welcome and whoever his saviors were had changed their mind, deciding to do away with him. Or maybe they were an outsider, taking care of a foe? Regardless, there was nothing Aidus could do. Would his soul return to the web, he wondered? He didn't even know where he was, so he could only hope that he would return to where all his people belonged. With dry, cracked lips, he spoke, his dark eyes fixing on hers. "Make it quick, coward," he spit in Pavi, slowly raising his hand to move his hand in a rapid motion that meant anger. "I've nothing else to lose." He closed his eyes and awaited death. The desert had sent her to kill him.

[Kalesse]

“Speak properly or you’re going to get a belly full of blade.” Unable to place the crude language that lept with such venom from her prisoner’s lips, the Chaktawe woman responded in her own tongue; Kalesse sneered down at the prostrate man as the dagger was pressed a little harder against his stomach. Pavi and Drykas alike were unknown to the woman, never having encountered such before in her days wandering the sands. There was no mistaking the meaning behind the hateful words though, whatever they may be.

A hand flapped in her face and Kalesse swatted it away, growling in annoyance; the sneer returned when the offending limb was brought to the ground with little to no effort on her behalf. Though she might not be strong compared to a man, Kalesse could hold her own.

And she had just slapped him down like a baby.

Respect had to be earned. Strength and honor were virtues that were to be upheld, even when death sat on your stomach with a pretty face and menacing black eyes. “You’re as weak as a baby.” A bit of the pressure eased up, the tip of the dagger sliding from the slice it had made in the man’s stomach. Watching as a droplet of blood dangled from the end of her blade for a tick before falling to mingle with the narrow stream of the stuff that trickled to pool in his belly button, Kalesse sighed.

There was no honor killing his one; though darkness lingered around the pair, a fitful breeze plucked at the tent flap, lifting the canvas from its resting place. Kalesse had spotted the sheen on his brow and exposed flesh, the sickly pallor to his face that spoke volumes of his condition.

Not a lonely wolf, set to pick off the weakest of the bunch to survive, the young woman redistributed her weight so that, while still hunched over him, Kalesse instead balanced on the balls of her feet rather than allowing him to bear the brunt of her weight. He hadn’t attacked her. There would be nothing lost if she just were to walk away.

[Aidus]

The woman's retort came with such vigor and spite. She had the energy to hate, while Aidus barely had what it took to remain conscious. The cold steel blade touched his skin, and when she added pressure, lightly split the mans flesh, greedily drinking up the blood which came forth. She wasn't just going to kill him. She was to torture him for some crime comitted, a wrong done, yet his sin was unknown to Aidus. Her words were foreign, but her weapon spoke volumes. When the Drykas man opened his eyes, however, his countenance changed. His eyes had come into focus, but instead of a killer's rage, he found pity as again she spoke. When the blood trickled, contempt flickered in the weary man's eyes. All the while, deep black orbs looked down at him, judging, deciding his fate. He awaited the plunge of her dagger, likely into his gut. He would suffer instead of dying quickly like he desired. He could almost feel the now familiar steel invading his flesh already, and yet... The death blow never came. "What are you doing?" His words came quietly, a tone of defeat in his voice. The Pavi faded as he locked eyes with her. What was her goal? What was clear was that she didn't understand him. In Common he made his next move. "You kill me?"

[Kalesse]

Having thought nothing of the language gap between them, Kalesse sat in silence after the three common words traipsed through her mind. It had been a long time since she had used Common and as a result, her response was rusty, her speech lilted. He was lucky that they shared a language at all… but then again, who didn’t know Common.

“No…. Stupid.” The dagger was waggled before his face to reinforce the fact that it was not sheathed within his guts; it was impossible to miss the unspoken condescension as the young Chaktawe wiped the blood that stained the weapons tip on his dirty and tattered clothes, wrinkling her nose as if even touching the steel to the cloth was nauseating.

Even though they wouldn’t have been able to ever communicate in their own languages, Kalesse found herself resenting this sickened man for forcing the awkward language upon them, greatly reducing her apparent intelligence in their need shared words. As a result, the young woman’s nose stayed in the air and she pointedly kept from looking at him as she slid from his abdomen to the sand.

“Sands kill you. Goodluck.” Despite the well wishes, it was obvious that he wasn’t really intended to have any, long black locks cutting as sharply through the air as her words when she rose and turned to exit the tent. Kalesse made it as far as the flap, which was pushed aside and her head stuck back out into the elements before she froze. A moment of silence commenced, broken only by a loud snort and the pounding of hooves on sand.

Choking down a yelp, Kalesse fell backwards into the tent with none of the dignity that she had gathered about her when she started to leave. Onyx eyes were wide as they stared out of the flap and the dark shadow that loomed across the exit.

“Be nice, Kalesse.” A deep, resonating voice spoke in Tawna to the woman, who gulped and wordlessly nodded her head, her gaze flickering to the floor of the tent as the great black stallion lowered his head to peer inside at his charge. Sunajia sparkled in the sun, a glittering ethereal shadow that stared balefully at the Chaktawe woman.