Fear And Trembling (Edreina)

[Razkar]

66th Day of Fall
East Street
23rd Bell

So much for The Holy One...

One should understand that, even though his life is, in fact, real and not a mere work of fiction scrawled by the fevered mind of some distance scribe, there are certain universal laws one must abide by.

Never, if you are the villain, utter the words "What are you going to do now, boy?", no matter what advantage you think you have. Always heed the advice of the wise old mentor, because they didn't survive to be only and a-mentorin' by being stupid. Remember to act like a hero if you're going to say you're one.

And perhaps most importantly of all... do not scorn the gods in a world you know for a fact they exist. Especially if you've recently met and angered one.

Razkar, it must be remembered, did not have the narrative grasp this humble scribe does, so he wasn't thinking about all that as he slid through the sweat-and-blood spattered sawdust at his feet. The bray of the crowd at the Knuckle Club was a muted roar to him, though the cavernous walls reverberated every cry around ten fold.

The cage was a place for him and his enemy. All other distractions and considerations ceased.

The human was bloody; The Myrian was not. The capital "T" is justified, by the way: that was Razkar's name in this place, or title, more accurately. It had more mystique, perhaps, and it had stuck either way. Most of the crowd was chanting his name, if he'd bothered to notice; the rest were hiding their faces and wondering how best to pay gambling debts to large men with tiny reserves of patience.

Mace Berth was one of them. Unfortunately, he was also the man taking the beating.

Razkar wheeled around to the human's right and feinted with a hook that never made it, then a left, right again, arms a blur, keeping the human guessing-

-drawing his arms up, yes, but that wasn't his target-

Take the bait boy, c'mon-

And Mace did, seeing weakness in Razkar's lower body and lashing out with his left foot-

-only for the Myrian to twist around, facing his sideways all of a sudden, the boot lashing out to nowhere-

-and his right elbow came crashing down on Mace's shin as it was still in the air.

The human cried out and it was swiftly drowned by the crowd. To a watcher, it just looked like his face imploded with agony for a moment before he staggered away, or tried to-

For Razkar was trained never to let an opportunity slide in combat, and he'd had enough of his little... test.

He burst forward and slammed his left fist into the shaved-headed human's kidney as an afterthought. Mace nearly bent over sideways as visions of pissing blood tomorrow and white-hot agony seared through his veins. Razkar's eyes stayed on him; his grin stayed in place.

He hadn't even put money on this. He and his "manager" had a made enough a few nights before, so he had no need of coin. But... what had happened before... in that clearing... the Myrian had to know what had been done to him.

So he went to see if it would strike where it would matter.

In the one place he felt complete.

Mace rallied, screwing up the last of his strength and gall to lunge forward, leading with a right cross-

-which Razkar swayed away from, retaliating with a snake-fast kick to that damaged shin, finally toppling it from under him-

He felt... nothing. Well, nothing bad, anyway. The same control... the same empowering rush from his gnosis and the feral satisfaction of knowing his years of training had proved himself superior to his enemy. Razkar felt it all... and no different. The ink gouged into his chest did not stir or murmur... and that's about when we came in.

Hubris. Never a good thing, especially when deities are concerned.

Mace let himself fall back, tried to roll and backpedal across the sawdust. But the shadow followed him beyond his red-rimmed vision, and when he got back to one knee, forearm jerking up in defense to stop the hammerblow he knew was coming-

Wrong.

-the Myrian's hands jerked out and gripped him hard around the wrist, jerking him forwards-

-onto his knee as he slammed it into his face-

-followed it with an elbow between his shoulder blades, hearing something crack in his vertebrae-

Felt in control. Powerful. Freed from the fear and trembling of the god he'd knelt before the previous day. With one final snarl Razkar twisted the human's arm up, drawing a last keening of low agony from the bloodied human-

-and snapped his head back with an uppercut from his left like he didn't even have a spine. Even Razkar's callused hands hurt from that one, and he was already walking out of the cage before the human's still, sleeping body hit the sawdust...

++++++++++

"That went well..."

Overall, it did. There must have been some time elapse between leaving the cage and walking back to their lodgings, but Razkar barely remembered any of it. He was still floating over the cavern's stones, face nearly bisected by a grin that by Myrian standards would by euphoric and by anyone else's would... not.

The two of them wound through the darkened alleys of East Street, heading back to their hotel, shrouded in fog heavy with salt, a horror bard's dream... but Razkar was far from afraid.

"Perhaps Yahal was not the deity I imagined him to be," he said thoughtfully, not seeing Edreina nearly cringe in disbelief at the words. He scratched at the marks on his chest. "A few moment's pain, as punishment for what he thought were my sins and... oh..."

The echoing footfalls stopped and Razkar's grin vanished. Even in the fug of the night he could see the outline of that pale scar; he'd made his mark on her, sure enough...

Some small voice gnashed its teeth and nearly wept as his presumption. Had he learned nothing? Did he really think he could be let off so easily? But the strutting rush of his victory marred that fragile wisdom... until the despair of that day came back in a rush when he looked at her.

"I, ah..." The male looked away, scratched the back of his head, tried to grasp the words he needed. "I'm... That is, what happened-"

"We're tired of losing money to you, savage..."

The voice was high, almost reedy, but backed up by the shuffling confidence that superior numbers always gave a meager personality like that. Half a dozen patches of shadow suddenly started to shift, moving from doorways and deeper alleys, growing arms and legs... not to mention clubs and brass knuckles.

One stopped in front of him. A plain man, but he swayed with the stink of booze reaching Razkar from there, and his eyes swam with stewing anger and feeble courage.

"Time to teach you some manners."

If Razkar's head was mechanical, the head runt would have heard a very distinct click. The Myrian's eyes shifted from the stammering confusion of a male in love to cold, methodical calm. His eyes became shuttered and intent... and his hands went to his weapons...

"This is not a good idea." He said, and he almost seemed to mean it... until he smiled. "But I know you won't listen, so let us get it over with, yes?"

[Edreina]

"I feel it went very well," Edreina said with a smile, bumping her shoulder against his. Silently, she checked another possible side effect off of her mental list. Since that day in the woods, she had been keeping a constant tally of what was not affected by Yahal's curse until eventually she learned what had transpired. At his next statement, the young woman's freckled face curled in distaste. Has he learned nothing? The answer was obvious: of course he had not, he had not been forced to, yet. A small, black mark on her hand itched and burned at his words, as if wishing to prove him wrong.

But, no... That would happen in time. He would learn... He had to.

And then, he hesitated and she felt his eyes on her scar, the wide, pale one that had been created by his gladius... by his hand. For so young a woman, so much had passed before her eyes, more in recent seasons than ever in her life. Each change was, however, met and accepted with understanding. What change came was for the better, always for the better.

And suddenly, a moment of possible enlightenment was shattered by a voice like metal on stone. It grated against her nerves so badly that it took a moment for his words to register. Gods... A sweep of her eyes brought to her attention 5 men aside from the one that was approaching her. They varied in size, build, but all were silent.

Immediately there was a dull thrumming in her throat as her heart leapt, propelled upwards by fear. They were outnumbered and, unlike the walking armory, Edreina had not brought along any weapons. Stupid, foolish, girl. When they entered the city, Razkar had told her to take her whip everywhere for look alone, to give the impression of ferocity. The coldness in Razkar's eyes would be echoed by his female. Unlike his, however, it was a mask of sapphires, hard only upon the surface. Beneath, her mind and emotions were still roiling for some reason.

Razkar had already proven he could fight still, this terror spiking through her guts must have been something else.

Stay calm... Remember what Ignotus taught you.

Each thug was quickly examined, from the way that he stood to the weapons they carried. Edreina managed to make out he dim outline of a knife's sheath, but nothing else. Apparently, they wanted only to teach them a lesson. If they had planned on killing them, more weapons would have been brought, surely.

One man in particular stood out to Edreina. His paunch shadowed his belt, and his face seemed to be more apt to smiling jovially than scowling as it now did. With the gentle, whispering rustle of cotton on cotton, the redhead shifted her weight slightly. That brought his eyes to her. With a flick of her hair, his eyes were on hers.

Blue, sparkling depths beckoned to him holding his attention. With a cock of her head, Edreina allowed Djed fed impulses to slip towards him. There was the emotion that this was not worth it, that possibly getting his arse handed to him by that savage bloke was not worth a few petching mizas.

The lead man moved, forcing her to break eye contact. With the spell broken so abruptly, the novice hypnotist was a shade more than surprised to see him scoot back into the alley he had exited originally. That left them with five enemies; not much of a step up from six but it would help, she hoped.

Hoping was all that she could do. In a shattered instant, the fight broke out with far less pageantry than she had anticipated. There had been no gloating, no pounding on chests as they attempted to assert dominance before the fight had even began. She did not even see how it started, only felt herself fall into a half-crouch as two of the men decided to focus on her.

"Yahal be with me and Myri guide my instincts," she whispered, pacing backwards slowly. A fighter, the wisp of a woman was not. A keen eye and mind, however, she did have. As they moved towards her and she away, blue eyes remained in constant, darting motion. The first had scars across his thick, hairy knuckles; his arms were built like main masts and would likely be useful only for long coming, powerful blows. It took her only a second to realize that the other assailant was the same. Whoever had given voice to this plight obviously knew which sort to bring to a fight.

"Yer'is manajer, aye?" one growled deep in his chest. The other sniggered, bumping his comrade's shoulder.

"'magin' what she does to keep control o' 'im."

It would never cease to surprise Edreina how men managed to think with their dangling bits in every situation. Despite the pounding of her heart, none of it seemed real quite yet. And so she continued to back away, moving in a small circle so that she could be nearer to the Myrian.

In truth, she did not want to fight them. They were misguided and mislead. If anything, they would just end up hurt and even angrier than before. It did not occur to her that Razkar was at a particular disadvantage.

[Razkar]

"Myri guide my hand..."

There should have been something after that, in the fraction of a tick before intimidation and preparation became a frenzied tangle of swinging limbs and wood and blunt brass. Usually the Myrian would have added "and Dira my blades", but tonight...

Not a good idea, leaving bodies in the street when we're on the cusp of leaving the city. Besides, the Elders weren't happy with a Child of Myri bringing Valentine home. This is all the excuse they'd need. But that doesn't mean I can... make an impression.

A lot happens in a fraction. Had Razkar not been trained and honed for years as a warrior, it might have seemed impossible. But the world is full of things that the ignorant or uninitiated would call impossible. It just depends on perspective.

They weren't any real threat by themselves, but creatures like them always traveled in packs. So, Edreina was his concern, and she was staying close to him... the Myrian grinned when one of the men, sturdy and packing a few extra chin, decided that tonight just wasn't working for him and vanished into the shadows with nothing but the receding sound of sandals hitting coblestones.

The rest stayed. Razkar sent up his muttered prayer and-

The bearded man to his right swung first, rustle of clothes and low "whoosh" of wood through the air alerting him. Ah, dirty fighters. At least there was one thing they had in common. But they didn't press the advantage of numbers, waiting for Bearded to strike the first blow, a backhand leveled at his head, putting the savage on his knees so he could be taught some-

-only for Razkar to jerk forward at the waist, rough club whistling over his head, swing opening his chest-

-and Razkar was already moving, twisting his body around to the right, quick movement giving more speed and power to his rising left foot-

-that slammed into Bearded's crotch, doubling him over-

"Fucker!"

The other two woke up - the Mouth who'd spoken and Minion, on his left, now at his back - and attacked with all the feral, unpredictable viciousness that Razkar was expecting. He knew he'd take some lumps; you always did in a melee. He threw up his left arm and a set of brass knuckles aimed at his skull instead bounced off his arm-

-and he kept twisting, kept swinging, right arm coming up, inverted, burning gnosis at the back of his neck numbing the agony in his arm for the moment-

-as he hammered his elbow into Minion's face and sent him sprawling away in a shower of teeth.

But he left himself open to the Mouth, who came in low and fast with a snarl, aiming steel-shod dockworker's boots for Razkar's crotch, forcing him so slide and sidestep away-

-not fast enough.

There was a sick, slithering laughter and Razkar fell down to one knee, shin on fire, seeing the yellowed teeth and grog-sozzled eyes of the runt above him. But the Mouth was taking too long, savoring the moment, enjoying his brief deluge of power-

"Fucking warned you, bastard." He raised the sap in his hand, leather-wrapped oak by the look of it. "Now you canFUCK!"

Razkar sprang from bended knee and wrapped his arms around the little bastard's waist, followed by two hundred extra pounds of wounded, angry Myrian. Now he felt his gnosis start of snarl, demanding honor and insult be satisfied on the hide of his barbarian. The Mouth grunted as Razkar slammed him into the wall, flailing madly at his back until a dark, inked hand shot out and gripped around his wrist, Razkar's head rearing up before him-

-then slamming forward brutally, cracking his nose under the weight of his forehead-

-and he let him tumble, clutching his nose spurting blood and screaming, turning with cold, righteous anger to the last two, probably menacing-

-Edreina-

-going down-

"NO!"

The Myrian screamed out the word pregnant with rage and grief as one of the last two caught her clear across the face with a backhand. She'd glanced away for only a moment, keeping the two big men wary, but sparing a glance to see how Razkar was progressing-

-and one of those shit-born cunts took advantage, meaty arm cocking back, swinging out-

-the crack of knuckles battering her fair skin reaching down and ripping into his soul-

-his heart-

-his chest-

A fraction. That's all it takes for your world to change.

Panic and grief ripped through his system, but they spread from the curse of Yahal on his chest, black ink without light nor animation, but... curiously alive. Awakened. Poison coursed through every limb the Myrian possessed where but ticks before there had been nothing but intent strength. But it went deeper at the same time, seeping into his soul, sapping his energy...

Only the Blessing of Myri kept him for succumbing back into that abyss of fearful trembling that he'd felt before, when...

"Yahal..." He managed to murmur, face twitching and morphing between pain, confusion and sheer, unbridled hatred. "Yah... al..."

It wasn't crippling. Stunned and shaken, Razkar still knew a mortal, fight-ending wound when he experienced it (either giving or receiving), and this wasn't it. He grunted, limbs tingling and agonized, shaking, unsteady but still lethal. Then... it came...

Despair, thick and black like drowning in the middle of an ocean at midnight... it flooded him. His clear, cold, tactical analysis became a mix of muddled thoughts that he tried to grasp like one would fog. Where once there was thoughts of vengeance, too, now there was muddled flashes of Edreina screaming, bleeding, violated-

All thoughts that drove him back down to his knee.

He felt the beings he'd battered down to the cobbles begin to rise. Some part of him that would always be immune screamed from an infinite distance that he had to get up!

You must! You must fight!

I... can't...

You would lose?! You would admit defeat?!

Weak... tired... no point...

The voice, whatever it was, clearly knew him well, and tried a different tack: You would abandon another female?!

Razkar blinked longer than he should have. Bearded, Minion and Mouth were on their feet again, eager for payback and now they wouldn't settle for broken bones and missing teeth. But the Myrian focused on forcing down the pulses of pain rippling through his muscle now... or tried to. Whenever his mind battled them, tried to force them back... they renewed... flowing like waves from his chest-

-and the Myrian gritted his teeth, letting the Blessing of Myri and the Curse of Yahal fight, war, stalemate and balance across his body. He would need them to... and he rose...

OOCAll hail the great Box God Edreina, for producing the beneficent and gnarly template! Perfectly fits the tone, thanks love!

[Edreina]

For their size, the bastards were, as it turned out, far from slow. In the time it took her to realize that she had been knocked across the cheek and was falling sideways, the other one had already moved in caught hold of her wrist. Another explosion of pain racked the young Svefra and she found herself gasping to breathe as he yanked her forward and slammed his fist into her gut once, twice... and then let her fall to the cobblestones. Fiery waves danced about her face, catching on her parted lips as she panted, hand coming up automatically to rest upon her screaming stomach. It attempted to revolt, but she held her dinner in place.

"Hm. Guess the bitch isn't as tough as she pretends to be..." One laughed, moving around her.

Through the pain, Edreina felt something spark to life in her chest as her heart accelerated once again. A natural, primal fear came with being forced her hands and knees, being beneath viscous eyes. With that fear, came adrenaline. Unlike any other time, her adrenaline hit her like a tidal wave, washing over her and imbuing her limbs with an innate strength she had never felt herself capable of. Though she was still, she felt it. It burned her blood and sparked in her bones. It coursed through her arms, pumped through her legs, and sped through her heart.

She turned her head a fraction to the side, and saw Razkar hit the ground. Gods... no... If he was down, too... No... In an instant she saw more age, more weariness in her features than ever she had seen before. Though the pieces had already been in place, the realization clicked that this was their curse, and their blessing.

Yahal... be with me... An instant after the thought echoed through her still mind, she realized that he already was. He was the strength and her limbs and he had battered away the fear clouding her mind.

"Just petchin' finish it... She won't need much more..."

"Nah... I've got a real plan for her... That Myrian petched with my coin. I'm gonna petch with something of his..."

Despite the fact that she felt like she could pull a cobble from the ground, she knew that would not suit her long if she was truly able to. Her mind raced, but it was the controlled sprint of one who ran miles each day, not the frenzied run of one consumed by panic.

The distinct clatter of a belt being undone was an alarm bell in the young woman's ears.

"Are you kiddin' me? I didn't sign up for this shyke!"

From their feet, Edreina could see that one had stepped in front of the other, but she worried over which one it was. Djed burned in her chest, begging to be used. But how... She turned it over rapidly in her mind, formulating a possibility for either. If it was the man who planned to defile her, she would send him the feeling of her anger, her rage, her willingness to bite off his manhood if given even the barest of a chance.

But, the one she ended up using was the one that she imagined if the more sympathetic man stood before her. Djed pooled in her eyes, swirling and awaiting her instruction. Despite still being fresh to the art, she knew enough to send the most basic emotions.

Terror. Innocence. Pleading.

Those were the emotions that left her eyes as they met the first attacker, the one that had backhanded her. For a fraction, the leg he had been pulling back to kick her in the jaw hesitated. But, he was resolute. After all, this damned woman had helped the Myrian hustle him out of a five-day's wages.

As the kick swung forward, everything seemed to move more slowly, as if Edreina had more time to process it. Instinct kicked into action and she reached up and caught his kick in her hands. The look of shock in his eyes was nothing compared to the look that came as she twisted it savagely. Possessing more power than she expected, Edreina watched as, instead of forcing him to twirl in the air and fall flat on his face as she hoped, his ankle rolled and cracked from the socket. She still needed him on the ground so, even as he was screaming and his limbs going weak in shock, she ripped him forward and into an odd kneeling position. Then she gripped his shoulders and rose, pushing him onto his side as she moved towards the other and tripped, stumbled back to the ground.

The man with the undone pants gasped, taking a half step back in surprise; he had not expected such ferocity from so delicate looking a female. Despite failing, Edreina lashed out across the other man and gripped the would-be rapist by his pants. In a move that would have, at any other time, been hilarious, Edreina ripped his pants down his legs and then towards her. His legs left the ground and rushed back towards Edreina, pulling him onto his back. While he was still recovering, the Svefra rocketed to her feet and rushed towards Razkar. Well, she stopped to aim a nice, hard kick at the bastard's ribs as she passed, hopefully ruining a few of his ribs.

It was at this point, when the second man cried in pain, that the others had clued in on what was going on. One of the men around Razkar rushed towards her, fist pulled back. A flash of red hair hung in the air an instant after Edreina dropped into a crouch, just below his punch. Her hand curled into a fist and she pushed herself out of the crouch, arm snapping upwards in the same movement.

It collided with the man's jaw, and she heard something snap, rending the air around them and sparking silence. Somehow, the greater power in her legs added to the surprising strength of her punch, allowing her to snap the man's head back with such power that he rose from the ground. The thud was the sound that broke the silence as the two remaining men turned to her, caught in a look that suggested being trapped in a nightmare. Somehow, the Myrian and the Svefra had fallen, but it was the waif of a woman that rose and took down three of their friends in an instant.

"Petch... She's one of those Flux fighters!" One gasped, taking rapid steps back until he stumbled.

Deep down, she knew she was near the end of the Djed she could use before she started to overgive, but a little more would not hurt, she hoped. Again, she let it pool in her eyes, hardening them and narrowing her eyes slightly so that she read of intimidation, that she would do to him what she had done to the others. The second man still standing managed to flee a bit more gracefully than his comrade.

The others were groaning, well, except for one. In the part of her heart that had not been marred by this world, she worried for him; she had not meant to hurt him so badly, only scare him off like the others. And then there was the man whose ankle she had broken... He had not wanted to treat her as badly as others... But he still wanted to hurt her. What you did was right! Stop doubting yourself! "Razkar... Raz we have to move..." And then, with a quaver in her voice, "C-can you?"

If he could not, she would help to move him into one of the alleys until it passed, using her Yahal-strengthened muscles to move his bulk. If so, she would help him stand and then move as quickly as she could towards their room pending no further interruptions.

[Razkar]

He was dreaming. He had to have been. Mizahar may have been a world of mages and monsters and miraculous feats, but all of those things were, in their own way, somewhat logical. There was a cause and effect at work, some... history. But when Razkar got to his shaking feet and his vision began to clear...

No. No petching way.

Then Edreina dashed by him in a scarlet-haired blur, moving almost faster than his fuzzy mind could follow, to his side, where a looming,snarling shadow was hurling a furious fist-

-and she punched, just like he'd seen her done before. Her form wasn't perfet, but he approved that she was using her legs to add yet more force to the blow-

-that connected-

-and knocked Mouth clear off his feet-

-breaking his jaw in the process-

-and sending him crashing down to the cobbles... five feet away.

Razkar blinked. Surely he'd wake up soon... but if he didn't, he quietly amended his thoughts to "some", instead of "no"...

Only then did he see the rest of the carnage wrought. Three of their attackers were left, all down and ruined. Mouth was most definitely out for the night, jaw hanging loose and blood trickling from it. One of Edreina's rapists was curled up like a fetus in the womb, vomit trickling from his lips as he tried to breath deep with two broken ribs. The last squirmed and writhed around, howling like a banshee giving birth and staring at his dislocated and broken foot; it should not be pointing that way...

The shock of it... the sheer surprise and impossibility... the Myrian felt that chase away the horror of the last few moments. Edreina stood before him, her concern in her voice cutting through the mist in his skull and the fatigue in his limbs. Their enemies were down or fled; no more threat. They were safe. She was safe...

"Razkar... Raz we have to move... C-can you?"

The Myrian found that he could. He looked at her, not knowing whether to be convinced the world had gone mad or he just had. His limbs were like lumps of lead, still, not painful but refusing to obey him on time. His legs shivering slightly, but then he took a breath... took it deep down to his lungs...

... that dread and sickening weakness was gone. The male blinked and held up his hands-

-which moved exactly as he wanted them to. For long ticks he just stood there like an imbecile, making sure he could still move on time. What had happened? Where had that... curse, gone to? The tattoo... no, it was still there. Would it happen again? What caused it? Why, at his lowest moment, his most desperate time, why did Yahal choose then to strip his strength -

An insistent arm jerked the Myrian from his reverie. Edreina was the sensible one, now; the one not wanting to be found among a trio of broken thugs. Razkar's mind snapped back to the present, ignoring all concerns for now... taking her arm and they moved together, clutching each other, but all the while the chittering buzz in his ears would not abate...

What gave her such strength? It was more than just the rush of battle-

Is she marked as well by that bastard? But he gave her power... possibly power over you-

Razkar snarled the thought away from him like a tiger would an annoying house, stepping faster to lead them through the labyrinth that was the East Street and Denvali Quarter. Soon the architecture began to change: the established squalor of East Street replaced by the cobbled-together poverty of the shacks and converted warehouses of the Quarter.

You must have answers! This is... intolerable-

What else has been done to you? What further curses are in store? You sight? Your ability to even hold a weapon-

She is stronger now. But what... what was the cause-

He ground his teeth to drown them out but they were always there, scratching at the back of his eyes, insistent and Goddess-curse-it-all, he did want answers! But he was enough in his own mind to top her from walking into the front door of Wallis' boarding house. Razkar looked her up and down, drawing her eyes to the spatters of blood and bruised flesh.

"Backdoor."

She didn't argue; neither was in the mood for it. Like rats running back to safety and sanctuary they scurried up the back stairs, breathing shallow and ears pricked... but no-one stopped them. Fire glowed from downstairs, the roll of chuckling, laughing drunks and the clinking of glasses. Wallis was busy. Good.

Then they were in their room, Razkar stumbling in numbly as Edreina closed it har-... no, she closed it softly, because she at least had some sense, then locked it firmly, turning her back on it and sliding down...

To see Razkar pacing, energy crackling off him like a dark cloud bought to earth, eyes flashing with accusation and bewilderment. The Myrian unhooked his weapon harness with a snarl, hurling them onto their bed with more violence than he'd fought his enemies with.

This ignorance... it as utterly unacceptable. Whenever his mind peered back at those ticks of weakness, the betrayal of his body, the only thing he could truly rely on this world, a dread filled him that he instantly converted to anger, directing it only one way-

-through an accusing finger at Edreina and a growl he'd never used with her before-

"What... What... was that...?!"




OOCHey, I tried out using the two codes since he lost the curse a little way through it. I dunno... I'm in two minds about it. What do you think

[Edreina]

She turned the handle before letting the door click into place so that it would close quietly. That anyone had the gall to disturb them, she doubted highly. But this night had not gone right so far and showed no signs of changing. When the lock thundered into place - Or was that just the blood pounding in her ears? - she sighed and collapsed backwards against the door, bringing her knees up to her chest.

If she were to be honest, she wanted to cry our of terror. Whatever had happened that night was more than she could handle in a single moment. But, Razkar looked to be worse off and she wanted not to burden him further. And so she resigned herself to trembling, mouth pressed firmly against her knees. Yahal trusted that power to me... He must have seen that I would be able to cope with it and learn how and when to use it... But... Gods that was terrifying! Every few ticks her hand twitched, remembering how it felt for a bone to snap beneath her now bruised knuckles. Perhaps from being struck, perhaps from recounting the actions of her own flesh, her stomach roiled and threatened to revolt.

"What... What... was that...?!"

His tone of voice was so jarring that Edreina immediately transitioned to defend herself, pressing flatter against the door and placing her hands flat on the ground on either side of her. Two sorts of terror stared up at Razkar through such wide blue eyes. In them he could surely see her own lack of surety and how the night bothered her so deep that her soul squirmed away from it.

"I've... I've only the slightest idea..." The whisper was broken, but honest. Trembling fingers rose to brush hair from her face, to distract her from the looming Myrian for an instant. For an instant, the darkening of her knuckles lined up with that blooming on her cheek and she winced at the thought of her pinky finger even brushing it. "It must be Yahal's mark... a-affecting you, I mean." For whatever reason, she still shied away from him knowing that the god had shown her favor while cursing him. In her moment of fear, she built upon the lie. "When I looked over, you were weak and dazed... I must-... I must've moved differently to you."

Petch! He could very easily have been asking about the attack itself! You don't know that he-

Well of course he did! I took down three men without blinking! Gods if he didn't notice that then the curse is worse than even what I've seen!

She sighed and wrung her hands, looking down and away from him. Would he see the bright black mark on her palm as it contrasted her pale, golden skin? Almost guiltily, she hid her arm behind her knees as she clutched them closer, still pressed rigid against the door. Silently... Silently she prayed that her explanation was enough.


OOCI like it it! That makes the mental transition as jarring for the reader as it was for Razkar. Only thing I can say is perhaps take the bottom image out of the top and the top out of the bottom to make it just a hare better.

[Razkar]

"I've... I've only the slightest idea..."

His breath came out in burst, almost snorts, like an exhausted bull, but his eyes never left hers. The pain and confusion on her face... Razkar found himself ignoring it, even as his heart wrench and twisted in his chest at the idea of that. He needed answers; he wanted to know what had happened to him!

"It must be Yahal's mark... a-affecting you, I mean."

He screwed his eyes shut as if doing so would block out this awful night... but when they snapped open again, she was still there, hands on either side of her head, staring into the floor and then up at him. An eel of doubt slithered into his mind at her words... his frown sharpened...

Razkar had been among scum, sellswords, thugs, mercenaries, slavers and killers for over a year, now. He'd dealt with men to whom honor was alien and deceit was second nature. They couldn't have survived in that mortal netherworld of violence and greed, otherwise.

He knew when someone was lying... or holding something back.

No! You don't know that! Why would she do that to you?! She has never lied, and she isn't lying now, so-

"When I looked over, you were weak and dazed... I must-... I must've moved differently to you."

The breathing stopped like someone put a cork in his mouth. Eyes as black and pitiless as a rattlesnake's flashed to hers... and he stood... very slowly... and in his slowness was a menace there she hadn't seen before. Betrayal flared in his eyes, disbelief warring with it across his soul, and behind them both a raging grief for what he'd just heard.

"You struck down three men... with your bare hands... in ticks..." Razkar stepped forward, each one so soft on his bare feet, but they sounded like tombstones being dropped on the cobblestones. "I saw it. I... I know I saw it... and I saw them after... whatever struck me, had gone. You punched one man so hard he left the damn GROUND!"

The Myrian moved so fast and fierce that the sheer violence of the movement... jolted his mind like a lightning strike. Suddenly he was... watching himself. Watching himself reach down and grip her wrists, drag her to her feet, face contorted like a man tortured and damned, tears threatening to soak through his eyes-

"Why did you lie?!" He growled, timbre a dangerous, unstable twitch away from a scream of anger, face inches away from hers. "Why?! What did you do! What do you hide... from... me...?"

His mind was like a metal ball bouncing around a tin bucket, finding no peace or purchase anywhere. Emotions howled and echoed around his mind and yet he held on, head jerking round to see something that caught his eyes, some dark smudge on pale skin that stood out, something... new.

On her palm. And on her other one.

Razkar's face turned up slowly to Edreina's... and the world at large held its breath.

A fraction. Less than that. The time it took for a thought to race down from the mind and into the limbs that would birth it. So many flickered before his eyes, and only his shock kept his arms mired.

Liar.

Deceiver.

Enemy... Enemy...

She lied to us...

The words groaned into life on his chest. There was none of the paralyzing fire of before; the polar opposite of adrenaline where his Mark of Myri had been stymied and corrupted by a sheer, leaden disconnection between his mind and his body. Now there was only a cloud of mindless, thoughtless... fear...

Razkar shook in front of the Svefra. His teeth were clenched and his eyes vacant, unwilling and unbelieving to allow this to happen. No! It would not happen again!

A fine sentiment, some would say... but all the will in the world from a man is naught to the curse of a god...

"How..." He whispered, slumping down to his knees, no longer even finding the will to stand anymore, dragging her with him. "How can... I trust you... again...?"

The words rebounded around his mind and Razkar felt his breathing begin to race, matching the crazed drummer his heart had become, pounding and pumping so loud he could see her lips move tearfully but... he couldn't hear... he could do anything...

You are weak.

You are flawed.

Cursed.

A great swell from deep in his chest rose like magma from a volcano, burning through the shroud of dread and despair, jerking his head back up and snarling through his lips... torn with hate and disgust and the real, true, selfish core of his fear and trembling.

"I can't... protect you... anymore..."

Razkar let go of her.

OOC“I'm not upset that you lied to me, I'm upset that from now on I can't believe you.” Friedrich Nietzsche

[Edreina]

Even as she was being hauled to her feet, Edreina clasped her hand and turned away, half-hiding herself behind a veil of hair that was lank and lusterless because of her recent exertions. And finally, she just... stopped...

The fear that had been making her motions pathetic and borderline sniveling hit a wall and simply stopped. Almost defiantly, she opened her eyes and stared at her lover. She should not have to be ashamed of this gift! For whatever reason, Yahal had seen her fit to wield his gnosis and all that went with it. That meant she had no reason to be hiding, especially not from Raz. After all... they were lovers, dammit.

And then, so suddenly, Edreina saw that light reenter his eyes.

His words, they were a knife to her soul. One of only a handful of times she had ever lied to him, and this was the one that mattered the most. Gods damn it he made her feel like a monster. Legs normally so strong lost their strength and she felt herself fall down with him, trembling mildly again. She had been wrong, so very very wrong to think for a moment that she could have hidden this from him, that he would not react badly when he did find out.

And then her world crashed down around her again as he felt him tear away from her, physically and mentally.

No... Nononono! After all they had been through, this is how it would end between them? Because he was too petching afraid of who they had become? Because he was so self-centered that he could not handle her being stronger than him? It was so painfully preposterous that she a hard, cynical laugh was barked through tight lips.

This was wrong... This was not how it was supposed to be... If only... If only she could make him see... And, like that, the mark on her palm flared to gentle life and gave her the courage to do so.

Despite the gentle warmth and induction of courage, the fiery wrath incited in the Svefra's soul was an entirely different breed of flame. "You've got to be petching kidding me..." Bright red locks danced as she shook her head, then again as she looked up at him sharply. When usually her eyes danced like the waves of the Suvan, they were hard and prismatic as they rose to his, resolve apparent in an instant. "When have you ever kept me safe? Ever since I've met you, I've been in constant danger. Sometimes, that danger has only been exacerbated by your love of glory and of battle!" She sighed through her nose and shook her head, grabbing the Myrian by the face and forcing him to hold her gaze.

"I chose this life, and all that comes with it. No matter what changes have been made and will be made, we can make it. You can make it through this. You need to stop doubting yourself and realize that you are stronger than the curse. Instead of giving up so damn quickly you need to start thinking about how to work around it." Her lips found his once, hard. "I believe in you. Don't you dare prove me wrong, Razkar..." All she wanted was for him to believe as she did, in his ability to be the man she knew him to be no matter what attempted to bring him down. Together they had fought through so much... This was just one more thing...

[Razkar]

Had the Myrian been himself, he would have just been surprised. Edreina had... a steel to her. As much as he'd seen in the females of his own people, but it flared up in the most extreme of circumstances. The last time he'd seen it... she had caved in the skull of a man. With a rough club. And scared off two others. That alone had taken its toll on her, but now...

Now she stood her ground, terrible and awful and beautiful, if you had the eyes for such a thing. Had he been himself, Razkar would have. He would have been proud, he would have swelled with admiration for her coming into herself...

But, as has been already implied, he was not. And he did not.

"You've got to be petching kidding me..."

The Myrian's gaze was jerked up by the sheer sound of it; she didn't even need to touch him. It broke through the miasma of muggy depression his mind was mired in and his jaw nearly dropped when he looked up... and saw her swimming eyes harden. Like an entire sea suddenly frozen into unbreakable ice. Her hair, lank and lifeless before, looked fit to bristle and spread around her like a cobra's hood.

"When have you ever kept me safe? Ever since I've met you, I've been in constant danger. Sometimes, that danger has only been exacerbated by your love of glory and of battle!"

Ah, now, that would do it, though. Downtrodden though he felt, Razkar was not about to hear his entire life denigrated by one who simply didn't know his people. Despair fled in the face of anger, a rage and indignation he could tap into... and if it put flight to that paralyzing dread, Razkar embraced it.

"That is what I am, female! I am a warrior! A Child of Myri! You knew that the chime you met me, and I never hid it!" He shook his head, rising with her now, glancing away with his face screwed up into a disgusted grimace, feeling the power of the curse subside slightly as his anger replaced it. "But you? No. You lie to me. You-"

"I chose this life, and all that comes with it. No matter what changes have been made and will be made, we can make it. You can make it through this. You need to stop doubting yourself and realize that you are stronger than the curse. Instead of giving up so damn quickly you need to start thinking about how to work around it."

The Myrian's jaw dropped, lips trembling at the sheer naivete of his lover. Did she really imagine things were so simple? So... easy?! That you just snuffed out a candle in your mind and that was that, no more doubt or weakness? And more than that-

"You have no idea what that felt like!" Now he was shouting, uncaring of whether or not anyone complained or came a-knockin'. Woe to them if they decided to. "What it feels like even now! I-"

Then she did it, the fucking...

Razkar's words died before he could even spit them; his lips were pressed hard, like the most wonderful and erotic of slaps across his face and right then, all his delicious indignation was derailed.

"I believe in you. Don't you dare prove me wrong, Razkar..."

The Myrian's mind went blank for precious, eternal ticks. Nothing but the soft sounds of them in their room... the sputtering lantern... every tiny sound only enhancing the anticipation, like a lull in the midst of some great battle.

But there was no pain. No dread. No paralyzing of his limbs nor murder of his resolve. Razkar simply stood there, his mind plodding now, not racing... but something was gaining speed... something that grew from fuzzy feelings to words that were old and just would not let go-

"You believe in me?" He said, breaking away from her, and the Svefra winced internally. She knew that tone: he was getting into a rhythm. "Yet you wear the mark of the one who cursed me? You pray to him now? Like Laviku? Like Myri?!"

Razkar spread his arms wide in a single, violent snap, taking in the tiny room and the whole world.

"Then where is he?! What is his point and purpose?"

His hands came back down, or one of them did, the other leveling an accusing finger at her. The Myrian took a breath, readied himself to unleash a torrent of... of...

She is still here. Because she chooses to be. She could have left, burnished by a god's favor, and left you. But she is still here... and not just out of obligation.

Slowly, with the long sigh that he gave as partner to it, the hand and the finger lowered... as did Razkar's rage. Only a bitter, cynical weariness was in his eyes now, crinkling his nose and shaking his head at the sheer ignorance of the one before him.

"This is not a game, Reina. This is a cold, cruel world and any weakness given to you is given by an enemy. That is what your precious Yahal has done!" Dark fingers clawed at his own chest and raked white slashes across those damnable words. "What would you have me do? Huh? Thank him? Praise him?"

The metaphorical thunderstorms started to gather over Razkar, but finally he could give vent to his anger and he was not about to stop now.

"All my life, the one thing I could rely on was my own body. My skill. My profession, my calling, my... my life, as a warrior. And he has taken that from me, for when I need it most, all that skill, years of training-" he snapped his fingers with a contemptuous hiss "-gone! Useless! No good to me, or you, or anyone!"

He knew he was avoiding the question. Some part of him was shaking its head and hanging it with sheer embarrassment, but Razkar didn't care. This wasn't a challenge, or a blessing in disguise. It was a curse: those things are one-way, and if he had no priest of Yahal to rail at, Edreina would do just fine. But it managed to steer him back to the subject at hand, chest heaving, eyes wide and furious, but... spent. Tired. Weary and utterly... fed up.

"I will overcome this, I promise you that. But not out of some fealty to that winged bastard, who has done naught for me but scorn and judge and defile my flesh and my mind. So stop acting like this is some strange gift."

The Myrian shook his head, rank disappointment steaming off him.

"I never expected..."

His mouth worked but the words wouldn't come. Even now, giving full rein to his turmoil... he couldn't bare to lash her further with it. She was, and always would be, one that he loved.

Razkar just shook his head and held it, as if doing so would stop it splitting apart. He just wanted to sleep. He wanted oblivion. He didn't want to face the night and the uncertainty of dawn, the cold acceptance that he was not the warrior he'd been merely a day before. But her words rankled with him... reminded him to much of faces distant in his past... of Aya and Wolf and his mother and others...

Life is hard. Life is often cruel. But we are judged not by how we face those hardships, not what they take from us.

Did you think it would all go your way, boy?

Razkar sat on the edge of their bed, staring at the floor, morose and sullen and everything he did not want to be around her. He flicked a glance up and grimaced at the pain on her face, knew his heart would make him pay for it later...

Hey, given what she is capable of now, she might do that for you.

A low, mirthless chuckle rippled sadly through the room.

"Bastard of a way to finish our time here, isn't it?"

[Edreina]

The young woman recoiled as if slapped brutally across the face... again. Her body rose erect in a single motion and she all but loomed over the Myrian with a cloud of flaming red hair and stony blue eyes. But, for all of the rage in her soul, the part of her that screamed and wished for it to become verbal, she was still and stoic. If Razkar were to examine the woman that had given him her heart more times than she could count, he would see the unwavering belief in her features even before she started to speak. When finally the words finished forming in her mind, they slipped from her lips as smooth and as steady as the gentle rolling of a stream.

"Me? Of all people?" There was a sharp breath through her nose, but that was the only sign of her distaste for the conversation, for the clouded mindset of her lover. Could he truly not see? Or was the blindness selective? "Razkar you'd best be glad this is coming from me. If I were any other, I'd probably be bleeding right now... And that is precisely the problem." She moved a step nearer to him, hands resting gently upon her hips. There was no tension in her fingers, no sign of frustration. Contempt was there, but only in that minute way that someone resented being the bearer of bad news to one too bullheaded to even acknowledge her points.

"Think about this for a second... humor me. I heard you out, and now it is my turn to speak my part. You've spoken against one of my gods and cursed me for my naivety. The least you can do is listen to a few words..." Her eyes hardened even further and in such a way that said she left no room for arguing. "You say that you've spent your entire life training your body for a sole purpose, and that is evident. You can surely smite any man you see, make him fall to his knees and weep like a babe before your prowess... But what will happen when one day you rush into battle, as is your way, and lose every year, every moment you spent perfecting your art simply because you were too full of poisonous bravado to consider that bulling your way through a situation may not always be what is best.

"What does every great commander every great..." For an instant she hesitated before continuing roughly in his own tongue, "fang leader," before returning to one she was more familiar with, "have in common? Not that they can win battles, but that they know how to fight each one, where to hold back, what technique to use for each situation, and to trust those around them to do what they command and what is right. Your problem is that you think only of yourself and of your way. Everything you always do is right, Razkar. Even hurting others is right so long as it gets the job done, hm?" The scar on her shoulder seemed to glare at him in the dim light.

"Yes, I see this as a blessing in disguise for you. Call me naive, call me blind. But don't for even a single second think that having to adapt and learn a different way of living will not make you a better warrior in the end. Yeah, it'll petching suck worse than any other trial you've faced or training you've endured... But in the end Myri will have a greater warrior." With that, she seemed to sag visibly, but only after she had turned on her heel and marched deliberately around the bed. The entire spewing of belief had run without pause, and any interruption he had attempted would have been viewed as a school of fish before a whale; eventually, he would get the picture; she would not stop until her message had been received at the very least.

Arguing went against the very core of who Edreina was, but this was something in which her heart and soul believed. More than that, she loved Razkar and hated to see him so consumed by hate and contempt; a vile beast dwelt beneath his skin that night. Arguing, frankly, exhausted her. She wanted to speak no more that night... Only to curl up beneath the rough sheets and pretend that all was well until Razkar was asleep. She hoped to cry, once that was so, to wash away all of the arguing, the malice, the vileness of the night, and even her own actions in a sweet, salty release. Her soul shuddered as she slipped beneath the sheets and she shivered with the realization that she probably would not feel the warmth of two strong, muscular arms representing all that she saw to be safe and constant in this topsy turvy world. He would need time...