PM to join [The Sanctuary] A Gift Of Elements

[Kavala]

Dusk, 30th of Spring, 514 AV

The bonfire she'd built on the beach was truly epic in proportion. Kavala had a lot of places to choose from to induct Xira into reimancy, but for some reason the Sacred Circle had seemed to formal and doing so someplace like the bath chamber had seemed too informal. But with a clear day and the sun rapidly going down, Kavala expected a sunset to rival all sunsets and a starry sky to fill the heavens. Somehow it was fitting for Xira to be inducted in such a way. And so she'd gathered wood, piled it up in the center of a circle only she could see in her mind, and had put a torch to it, letting the dried and storm-tossed wood ignite. The bonfire would last hours. And if it started to burn low, she had additional wood stacked neatly up nearby, enough to feed the fire until dawn.

She would take her time with Xira who was the most part an absolute stranger to her. Oh, she knew his soul, his spirit, but the man that he was in this life was an unknown, and as much as she wanted to walk the world with him again, there were only so many things and so many small steps she could take without flooding his life and inundating him with that which was her. There was a longing there, a need to be with him, to know him, and there was pride that felt foreign for her because she didn't know him. But she knew the pride came from the past. He was her son in another life, birthed of Crescent's body, but in this one he was his own man.

Tonight would be yet another small step in learning who he was and why he was and giving him a gift that would help him stay safe the whole of his life. But it wasn't truthfully for safety she granted him this. It was for something else completely. She wanted to gift him with a dangerousness, a somewhat forbidden fearful tool he could use if he was strong enough to wield it sensibly. Selfishly, without even truly knowing him, she wanted him strong - at least as strong as the next man if not stronger. Magic would be that kind of advantage for him, whether he needed it or not. Kavala had surprised herself when he'd asked for teaching. Would she teach him magic? Her answer came without a single hesitation. Yes, utterly and completely yes. And even if he wanted to know webbing, she'd find a way to bond him to a strider, get him into their pavilion, and that too she would teach him. Vanator and perhaps Caelum as well would see the folly of this, the blind acceptance Kavala had for Xira. But on her own, as he'd asked, she'd not hesitate.

He was family. He was of her. And she loved him whether he realized it or not. It was no less than she'd do for Tasival, Ralac, or even Ia'del. If she had her way they too would have windmarks when they were old enough to be out and about and among the horses. The Konti truthfully, raised as she had been, was color blind to skin tone or race. To her the culture was everything and humans did not have the corner of the market on living wild and from the back of a horse.

So it was that she gathered ingredients just to make the ritual special. She drew from a life further away, from when she was a kelvic in the Suvan Empire. And with a small mortar and pestle she mixed black and abalone seashells, crushing them and adding oil to them until she had a thick paint. Then she mixed more, grinding the seashells to a fine mica powder and adding gum dried from the inner bark of arabac trees to it, thickening the paste and making it so that it would stick to her skin. When she was done, she took her paint and walked to a tidepool that was nearby, still lit by the failing light, and disrobed. Reinmancy inductions required such things anyhow.

She hoped Xira would join her. There was enough paint for him as well.

She used her fingers to trace the lines of paint on her skin, swirling the deep ebony color across her face and neck, running down her shoulders and across her chest. She painted what she could reach and even some she could not see, etching the glittering black paint onto her form and tracing her hopes and dreams for the future across her skin. Sometimes there were pictures... horses running down her thighs and hoofprints up the side of her neck. In other places there were pictures, weapons of great craftsmanship and mountain ranges crossed. She represented cultures on her body as well, leaving in lines for the races she admired - the Konti, the Akalak, the Drykas and even the Isur. She coated symbols on her skin for the important events of her life, giving a tiny childs footprint on her abdomen for each of the three births of her children.

She didn't even make a dent in the paint as she utilized it, filling in the open spaces between the words and wishes with swirls that formed a kind of spell directed at Xira's success. Reinmancy inductions could kill. They were nothing to scoff at. But Kavala thought she knew the strength and depth of his character. They were not blood, but they were spirit, and so everything she did was directed at his success.

She painted a long time, utilizing her body as the canvas, loosing herself in the meditation of the painting. Every line had meaning. Every swirl and spiral was a wish she wanted to come true. Every symbol was who she was and the path she'd walked to get to that very moment.

And when she was done, there was no skin left and the Konti herself was unrecognizable. She looked like something out of a fairy tale, a book written to scare children in the night. Somewhere in the midst of her painting, Kavala had even grabbed handfulls of glittering black mica and had woven it through her hair until the long pale locks were dark deep ebony. It was only when there was nothing else to contemplate, and no skin left to decorate that she stood up, retrieved the paint, and headed back to the bonfire to see who had arrived.

[Xira Hezmek]

The mistress of the Sanctuary was a fascinating person and she often intruded into his thoughts. She was often about, but he hadn't had a chance to socialize with the konti. Such was the busy life of Kavala Denusk. Xira had gathered that she was a talented horse breeder and animal trainer as well as a powerful healer, both mundane and magically in addition to being a sorceress of repute. In truth, she was an intimidating force. Yet she was not some aloof, statue of marble that showed no feelings. Xira had watched her interact with her friends and family. Naturally from a distance, but from his perch afar he had seen the loving kindness that she exuded. She had her children, her brother, Vanator, and all her friends and she cared for them dearly. Such things were obvious, she was passionate and cared deeply for those important to her.

The courier walked along the beach, slowly making his way towards the sign of life and light. He was a month driven by the promise of the mystical illumination. He made his way slowly, valuing the time to think and meditate on his lot in life, the alluring woman who had brought him in to this strange land. Sand sifted against his bare feet, he had learned quickly that boots and sand do not mix readily, as the ocean washed against beach and over his toes. He would have a bit of a walk to go.

What was he to this woman? He was a stranger, an interloper in the lives of those at the Sanctuary. Yet Kavala and the others had welcomed the courier in, treated him kindly. They put gave him a bed and meals, only asking to help out every now and then. There was no ultimatum to leave, indeed, Kavala had at one time implied that she wanted him to stay. There was no subterfuge to the woman though, if she wanted him to stay he could only suppose that it was genuine. Xira raked his hands through his hair, recently cut short, while he thought about the konti woman.

In Syliras the Konti were an integral part of both the knighthood and the city's culture. So it was not that he was overawed by the race. He did not interact with them often, even his konti landlord had been somewhat withdrawn in his presence. He sighed, missing home as he often did when his thoughts turned to the city. The konti were creatures of ephemeral and exotic beauty, with fine features and an inner power, or perhaps it is an inner calm. He could not deny the attraction he felt towards the race on a whole. Kavala brought something out of him however, feelings that he had trouble articulating. Perhaps it was something only as mundane as admiration and the hinting of a love not yet even considered, attraction made manifest. But it seemed so much more complex; she was familiar to him and yet he knew nothing about her. He could not help but feel attached to the woman he was slowly befriending.

Xira had cut the distance in half, the light of the sun dipping down to the rim of the earth and the light of the fire flaring up and taking prominence. Kavala's usage of the mystical arts, something he had never witnessed in person, was as if it were common place for her. She made stone structures out of nothing but the air and her hands. It was an amazing sight. Mustering up the courage to simply ask to learn from her took a deal of effort. Her response surprised him: An unhesitating yes.

Magic was not permitted in Syliras. There were always those that lived to defy the rules or use the kinds of magic that Syliras did permit. As a rule however, magic was strongly discouraged and treated with suspicion. Thus it increased the appeal to Xira. The courier did not make this known to others, and in truth, he himself suppressed the desire. But witnessing magic done so casually had loosened his tongue; the words came out by accident and she agreed to it.

Despite this the young man was nervous. He had no idea of what to expect. Magic was dangerous, every man and woman who ever brought up the subject in Syliras told him so. He could be in mortal peril, but where the knights themselves not also in peril themselves? He was told by his drykas mentor one time, Temur, "Send a mage to kill a mage, that is why the knights practice the forbidden arts". However, he doubted that Kavala would intentionally try to harm him.

Heat radiated over his face as he strode slowly up to the great fire Kavala had built. The sun was beginning to set, Syna's edge meeting Semele's edge. What he was presented with shocked him, his somber mood temporarily forgotten. In the place of the stately, pale konti woman was what Xira could only term as her antithesis. A woman with pale blue eyes looked at him, her hair was ebony and her nude body was covered in whirls and symbols of overlapping design so that her skin appeared to be as black as her ebony hair. He had never heard of such a creature before and his shock had paralyzed him for long moments. "Um.. Hello?" He asked timidly of this dream like creature.

My words

Your words

[Kavala]

Kavala smiled at Xira's greeting, however awkward it actually was. Her teeth flashed against her painted skin, showing bright white in the already quickly descending twilight. She reached out and took both his hands in her own and spoke softly. "You are very welcome here." It was less of a formal greeting than she'd meant to give, but she was excited and glad they were doing this tonight.


"Tonight, what we do, we must do without any clothing between us. Come, close in on the fire and let me help you." She said, drawing him into the circle of the bonfire's light until they were standing right next to it. It was comfortable there, in that place that was not to close and not to far away. There she knelt, like a servant, and lifted first one then another of his legs, pulling his footware free of his limbs and tossing them gently but respectfully away from the light, towards where there was a pile of her own things. If he had socks on, she'd slide his feet free of them as well. Then she rose, her dark stained fingers reaching out, and beginning to disrobe his torso. In this, she was more like a servant than a master, slowly garment by garment revealing is bare flesh.

As she slid the cloth free of his skin, she touched him, running her fingers across his bare body as if she were learning it. And while it wasn't exactly sexual, it was sensual and reverent, as if she were sizing up his body as some sort of temple. Once, twice... she whispered things softly in Pavi. If he had any understanding of the language, he'd know they were things like 'strong' and 'beautiful' and 'worthy'. The Konti was strange in her actions, reverent, as if she saw him as a collective of many things and not just a man standing there.

"Tonight you will receive something sacred, Xira. You must welcome it into yourself and understand that it is yet another tool I give you to harness control in your life. If you fight it, you can put yourself at risk. You must welcome it... wholeheartedly, and desire it to meld with you. Once it melds, it will teach you how to become as it is... and it is not something foreign. It is something of me, my essence, and once you know how to become as it is, you can in turn gift it to others. But some will see it as a contamination and thus treat you as an abomination. You must be ready for this and seek to rise above accusations and misunderstandings. Power is a frightening thing. Tonight I gift you with power." Kavala said, sliding her hands down to his belt, freeing him of it, and then unfastening his pants.

She had his limbs free of clothing before he could really protest, if any welled up inside of him. And she stroked that portion of him.... the curve of his hip, the length of his leg, the strong firm flesh of his stomach, with the same reverence as she had the rest of him. And she looked at all of him, her eyes not avoiding intimate parts of his form but gazing at him, challenging him to be proud of who and what he was.

After a time, she rose and left to find the bowl of paint she'd mixed. She returned and knelt before him, offering it up to him. "Paint yourself, Xira. Paint your hopes and dreams all over your body. Do not forget to include your fears and nightmares. Nysel is both, and it is for Him we do this ritual. I cannot help you in this. I can only observe and remember so that at least one person in this world has witnessed your inside come alive and decorate your outside. Then... and only then will we get started." She added, her tone serious and threaded with excitement.

[Xira Hezmek]

It was when the creature spoke that shock overtook the man. This was no ethereal, dream creature. No nightmare given flesh. This was his patron, his benefactor. The beautiful Kavala, the Konti who lived among the horse people and the sons of night and discipline. And... She was completely nude. Instantly he flushed and looked away. Not out of shame, neither for himself nor Kavala. He could not place why he did it, it was perhaps something close to unworthiness, or a fear that his gaze might trigger something he might regret later.

Xira had never seen another woman nude before, at least not like this. He had loved, but it was from afar and completely one sided. Here the man was presented a woman, a beautiful woman, of the race he always admired. What was he to do? She led him to the inner circle of the fire and he dumbly followed, quietly. What was real? What was a dream? Nysel's touch was on the approaching twilight.

The konti helped him slip off his boots, his socks and Xira let her. The act made him think of the horses she so loved, presenting a hoof to a beloved caretaker. Indeed, she behaved as a servant did to a master. The master of the Sanctuary caring for the peasant born courier from lands away, it was surreal. Webbed fingers slid his coat off and then his shirt. Her cool touch was electrifying, the fine hair on his arms and body raised and prickled in waves. Never before had another touched him in this way, and it both confused him as sensations spread across his chest with every heartbeat, and deeply pleased him.

She spoke words both foreign and familiar to him as she assisted with the shedding of his clothes. Words that his mentor might have said, or sounds that were similar but now half forgotten. Strong may have been one, but he could not know for sure. Then she spoke in common. The words that followed sobered the faint, light headed feeling that he had obtained and brought in a reverence to his actions. True, he did not understand fully what the words meant, but took them to heart.

Her hands went to his belt and he put his hands on hers, looking at this transformed person in the eye before looking away. She had an effect on him and it made him nervous. "I... want this." He looked up at her, with more determination, "I just fear... myself, my desire and... rejection." He lifted his hands and let her take the rest of his clothes off. He let himself relax in her presence. He was who he was, take away the clothing, the formal speech, the polite and kind words, he could be no less than he was now, laid bare as he was.

He watched her look at him, take in every part of him and he did likewise. He could not help it if his body responded, ever so slightly, such things were instinct. She was different now, than he first met her. Not that he had seen her nude before. No, her demeanor, what he thought he saw beyond those eyes, were different. She sometimes regarded him thoughtfully when she thought he did not notice, or with familiarity that does not come about with only a score or more of days interacting. The heat of flames warmed half, the encroaching night cooled the other. He focused on relaxing as she knelt down with a bowl, again as a servant did.

Xira took the bowl from her hands reverently and nodded at her instructions. This was the meaning of the designs on her body. He tentatively dipped a pair of fingers into the paint and touched the cool fluid to his body. He started with a crude map of syliras, over his chest, stylized and from memory. It would look nothing like the city he grew up in. He expanded it to faint shapes of the places he wished to see someday. He drew lines that were supposed to be the lights of the north, he drew the mountains of Kalea, a feather for Windreach, and a sun and moon for Lhavit, the port and sister city of syliras, Zeltiva got a boat.

As he worked he lost himself in his terrible drawings. He was certainly no artist, but.. he had a feeling that it was the meaning that mattered, not the drawings themselves. He shaped the bell like leaves of the Vian tree he brought with him, a symbol of an unexpected love of the growing things. He drew a hoof print for Temur, and another for Snow. Every inch of him took a bit of paint and form of black. Designs came to his mind and filled the spaces between shapes. He drew a shield, cracked and broken. Obscure, but a fear of losing control. A sunset was left on his thigh, or perhaps it was dawn, but inside, it was an ending. A fear of being left alone. Yet, it was a hope for new friendships and perhaps one day something more. He looked up at Kavala shyly, but said nothing.

He looked up just in time to see the sun finally disappear beyond the rim of the world. Akajia's veil enveloped the land, only kept at bay by the fire. He smiled, then straightened up. He did not look down at himself, but he knew he was now like her. Fey, wild, dreamlike in appearance. His skin was stained dark and sigils of all sorts were imprinted on his body. His thoughts, his dreams, his past, his fears, his.. desires, all of it decorated his body. Secrets he kept were laid bare, even if they were encoded such as they were. He had nothing left to give to his body, and nowhere left to draw. He carefully set the remaining black paint in the sand.

He gazed at Kavala, waiting for her instructions.

My words

Their words

[Kavala]

She smiled when he admitted he was afraid but he wanted this. Her teeth flashed white against the black paint on her pale skin. “Fear will keep you safe and cautious and help you decide to run or fight. Welcome it. Without fear, you are nothing but an idiot.” Kavala said softly, then sat back and admired the beauty of his form in the firelight.

Gods he was beautiful. Sure there was litheness to his body and he wasn’t bulked out like an Akalak or some human males were. She didn’t think he’d ever possess that sort of bulk. But he’d be strong, fast, and there were soft places on his body that combat would harden and make stronger. He had space to improve, but what he was now was already something of beauty.

Kavala’s pale blue gaze met his eyes as he painted. She watched him slip from conscious thought to ritual thought where he tapped the energies about him, lost something of his identity, and became the things he manifested on his skin. The healer turned ritualist recognized the maps and horses hooves, but other things were not so easy to tell. The patterns made him look inhuman and larger than life. He drew on himself until what he was on the inside was etched on the outside, and who he was in the world was forever changed.

And when he was done, she took the bowl of paint from him and gently upended the remaining paint into the bonfire, bowl and all. It caught immediately and the fire reacted by licking its flames higher, their orange and yellow glow glittering with a million iridescent colors. The sight made her smile slowly as she watched it for a moment. The bonfire cycled slowly, reacting to the paint and turned green for a time, then red, then settled into a deep cobalt color.

When it was this vivid blue, she turned, retrieved a wicked dagger from her pile of things, and returned to him. She faced him, shorter and smaller in body, but nonetheless equal in presence.

“I gift you with power, Xira. And I gift you with it in the way it has been gifted from the very first time it was discovered. Do you agree to receive it?” She asked, and then waited for his simple yes. That was all he had to say. Once he had, she stepped forward so that her body was touching his, and rose up on her toes. Her lips brushed his, mouth open, and caught his when they parted to breathe in. The kiss was deep, her lips pressing into his, taking, gathering his essence into hers until…

She started pressing something into his mouth. It had tangible form, but it wasn’t anything like he’d ever tasted. It seemed to ooze from her mouth into his, choking him at first due to its unexpectedness. It filled his senses and he could literally swallow it as if it were nourishment.

The whole time she pressed into him, invaded him, her bright eyes were locked onto his. He read a whole host of emotions in her gaze, some tame and some frighteningly wild. There was pride and power there. He certainly saw lust and satisfaction. There was determination and caution as if she wasn’t sure how his body would react to it, but was committed to introducing it.

Then he felt her hand without the knife take his and felt a sharp cut on his palm. The cut went deep and the pain was instant but over in a fleeting moment. Her webbed fingers locked around his, joining their palms and he realized she opened a similar cut in her own form. Power flowed from her there into him, strongly and freely, as she made the connection.

Her knife bit him again. He felt first his right pectoral muscle opened up, then his left one as well. Her knife flashed between them and he knew she was opening more cuts on her breasts at the same level as his own. But she did not connect to him at first, not before he felt the knife dig into his belly just above his sex, letting fresh blood pour out. Kavala’s eyes darkened to pleasure, the type a woman feels when a man is inside her, and she kept kissing him, even through the cutting. He felt the dagger bite again, over and over again until she’d opened a line of wounds from his throat to his sex and did the same to herself. Finally she made a cut on the hand that opposed the one the dagger was in. Reversing it in her grip she cut her own palm there as well.

Then she broke off the kiss. Her gaze was so dark now, it was hard to see its glowing power in only the slowly undulating colors of the bonfire. Then she stepped closer, pressing her skin on his skin so first their blood mingled over the wounds and her body fitted together at the openings. She lifted a thigh up and wrapped it partially around him, letting their bellies touch and their sexes brush so the wounds there could touch and press flesh to flesh. Both hands were linked. Their bodies were molded together from pelvis to neck as she spoke softly.

“Accept me. Accept it. Take it into yourself. Let it change you. Let it teach you how to become it.” She whispered, and then kissed him again. Suddenly the res within her coiled about and attacked through her skin, seeking an exit as if it recognized the ritual for what it actually was. The magic probed at him like an overeager youth having his first experience with sex. It nudged and nudged until it found the matching purposed openings, then slipped inside, thrusting its way under his skin, into his blood, and mingling with his own natural reserve of djed.

Kavala shuddered with the sensations her own body was feeling. She pressed her hips into his and undulated against him as if actually thrusting into his body with her own. Pleasure built, spiraling up and out of control as she drained her res into him, feeding him, encouraging him to accept her power and let it warp his.

She dragged him downward until he found himself on his back on the sand by the bonfire, the Konti sprawled across him, moving, writhing, and making soft noises of pleasure. Kavala broke off the kiss once, twice, grabbing big lungfuls of air before diving back in, feeding him more and more res. She wanted him to take all she could produce, and even now she could feel it flooding his body, filling it, seeding him with power. He could roll her too if he wanted, taking up the top position. To Kavala it didn’t matter. They were joining in a way far more intimate than sex, and far more dangerous. Xira could reject her res and it could kill him. The more she fed him the greater the risk. But she wasn’t afraid for his life. She knew how powerful his spirit was and how ultimately strong his body would be. And she reveled in it because what she was doing in that instant was insuring in the here and now that it would remain strong.

[Xira Hezmek]

For once in his very short life, Xira was without his shell. Everything about him was painted on his skin, the small, the large, his hopes and fears. Designs of lesser importance than the ones already mentioned. Symbolically and mentally, he had systematically let himself be bare. It was he himself who took down the barriers. He was vulnerable, raw and open to the Konti. It did not occur to him that it went both ways, that Kavala might be just as open to him as he was to her. To the courier, guest of the Sanctuary and Riverfall, Kavala could shatter him.

He flinched as the great fire roared with color, the fire hissing and crackling as lights rose high. Xira could smell something new, a sweet scent added to the dusky, smokey scent of burning wood. He was too mesmerized by the colors and the beauty of the flames in general, now blue, that the next moment Kavala had a cruel looking dagger. He took a step back, unsure of himself. However, the words she said lent him courage and he did not turn away nor give in to his fears. Kavala was a healer, not a killer after all. "I do, M'lady." He gave a shallow bow of respect to her and when he straightened she was against him.

He was surprised to say the least when he found himself pressed against the woman. Xira was tempted to step back but he stood his ground. Instinctually he desired to wrap his arms around the woman, his benefactor. Something deep and primal that showed him what he should be doing where his mind simply did not know. Instead of embracing Kavala he let her stand toe to toe with him, flesh against flesh, and lips locked to lips. His first kiss.

He closed his eyes briefly, but they opened up as something pressed into his mouth. A fluid, jelly or ooze, he could not place which, filled his mouth and slid down his throat and windpipe. He choked at the unexpectedness, he almost pulled away until he realized what it was. Magic. He forced himself to accept it. The mysterious substance filled his belly, nourishing him. It coated his lungs, but did not suffocate him. It invaded him, she invaded him, yet he could not say it was malicious, just... passionate.

Two pairs of blue eyes looked into the other as they kissed. What he saw was far different than what she saw. In his eyes was a vulnerability that comes only with repeated pains. There was lust, but it was an unsteady, shaky and shy lust of the inexperienced. Confusion and a tinge of fear of the unknown hooded those eyes, but Kavala lent him her determination.

His rational thoughts at this point were gone. It took the bight of the wicked knife across his palm to bring him back. Instinctively the sharp pain made him draw back, but her hands found his with identical cuts and a connection was made. He could feel it. He laced his fingers into her's and held her hands tightly, his fingers digging into the back of her hand. More pain bloomed across his body, even if he was unable to see it. All he saw was those icy blue eyes as blood met the cool air and slide down their "tatooed" bodies. The worst was above his sex, that sensitive region made him grunt deeply in pain yet he kept the kiss.

Then they were apart. Blood mingled with pain on both of their bodies, obscuring the pictures. He felt different, something was changing with him. Even without his conscious mind working as it should he felt stronger, more powerful. Then Kavala came up to him and pressed their bodies against each other even closer than before. Corresponding wounds met, as did their sexes, their hands and the rest of their bodies. Her words echoed through her mind as they kissed again.

His body was eager, as was hers. Once again power flowed into him, but not just from his mouth or his hands. A connection was made between them, as if the flesh were being made into one. If things kept at that rate, Xira would lose all control and that would be so physically as well and be a virgin no more. The invasion she launched at him turned to something more, it was an ecstasy beyond anything he could ever imagine. Their bodies moved against each other and they were not conscious of what they were doing.

All fear, confusion, vulnerability and other emotions were driven from him. Lust took him over as they slid to the ground. She was atop him, the connections of power unbroken, and once again he wished to wrap her up in his arms. Xira had no desire to break the connections, not even his palms. The roles between men and women did not matter to Xira, but instincts were king in this realm of intimacy. The two tangled together, they rolled and he was on top. He pinned their joined hands above her head and kissed her deeply, roughly and wantonly. As he did he drank from the nectar she gave him or perhaps forced upon him. The changes inside him accelerated. He could feel them.

Together they were made one in all ways. Spiritually, magically, physically. He accepted her. All of her. Her power, spirit, her personality, her body and the gifts she gave him. In return she clearly had accepted him, he had little to give in truth. Much later he would realize that he would support her, with or without this power. Even if after this they did not become lovers, he desired deeply to be her friend and be close to her.

What he was from that moment changed into something entirely new.

My words

Their words

[Kavala]

If this had been anything but a ritual induction into reimancy, Kavala would have lost herself to the moment entirely and reveled in the unexpected meeting of mind and body that she experienced with Xira. Even though she knew him, and had a history with him, in this form and life he was a totally different man with new experiences and new blood. His soul was familiar though, and she gravitated towards it in a way that she wouldn’t have expected. The fact that her Res took to him so powerfully, melding with his body and in turn reacting to his Djed and jumpstarting his own Res production was proof enough. The connection ignited things within them that Kavala hadn’t anticipated but she delighted in nonetheless. He was perfect. He was powerful. He was everything the ritual demanded and met the challenges she offered him fearlessly. The moment their mouths met and he swallowed the Res she gifted him; she knew he’d thrive as a mage.

Between them the power sang as proof.

Raw elemental energy flared up between them and ignited passion that she welcomed. It had been too long for her, and truthfully Xira was perfect. She loved it when the dynamic changed and he rolled her, pinning their joined hands above her head. Kavala stretched for him, arched her back, and accepted what he offered back to her, feeling the Res between them equalize. It was beautiful, indescribable, and it felt so deeply sacred. When he lifted his head to breath, she drank in large breaths as well, her icy blue eyes never leaving his own rich blue gaze. And when their bodies joined, it felt natural and right to her as a sheen of sweat formed on their bodies and blended their paint together, reforming words and pictures into swirls and whirls that gave them entirely new meanings. Kavala was vocal in her pleasure and did not bother to move quietly beneath him. He knew by how she moved and the joy she expressed that he was doing everything right.

And when they reached the pinnacle of their pleasure, Kavala disengaged her hands to wrap around him, pulling him close and severing part of the link that had res flowing back and forth between them and the various cuts. The Konti whispered the words ‘thank you’ as she was still wrapped around him, her body trembling in release against his. She slowly released him while she still shuddered and took a long time to quiet. Once she did, the Konti shifted them both, taking charge, until he sat up legs outstretched and her sprawled across his lap, their bodies still joined. Her legs were wrapped around him and they faced each other where they could softly talk.

Though she didn’t speak, not for a long while, opting instead to lean her head on his shoulder and catch her breath as her body calmed itself down. Her hands stroked his back, tracing his spine gently until she leaned back and caught his gaze again.

“I’ve lead you blindly into this. Partially I did so because I wanted to make sure you were strong enough for this and ready for it. You were. I had no idea how ready.” Kavala shifted slightly, lifted her head, and nibbled his lips playfully a moment. She was all business with her words, but her body and her actions said something completely different as Xira got a look at her softer side.

“In all of us there is a power. It’s called Djed. It is not infinite, but remains a constant. It gets expended just like our breath or our blood and needs to be replenished.” She dipped her gaze to his chest, and frowned at one of the bleeding wounds there. The Konti gently swiped a hand across it, healing the slice she’d made in his skin. As she spoke, she touched him other places, her warm glowing hands molding his skin back to the perfection it was before her blade had bit into it. Any pain he was feeling, especially the stinging from where the paint had gotten into the wounds, would vanish after she’d tended it.

“To use Reimancy, you must use your djed to make Res. Res can then be manipulated into anything you want within your element. When you are first inducted, like you have been tonight, you must absorb a foreign mages res. That res then shows your djed how to make res. You know how now… your djed has learned from mine. Your body has tuned into mine and taken my knowledge for yourself.” She shifted then, rolling her hips and breaking the rest of the links between them, including where his slowly softening body was buried in hers. She nipped his jawline apologetically and gave him another soft kiss. He smelled good to her… like clean male, campfire, and the black ingredients in the paint.

“When you are first born to reimancy like you have been tonight, then you will receive your first element. It will not be until you have fully embraced that element and learned to control it that you will get a second one. You will get a third one thereafter, and when you’ve mastered the three you will get a fourth.” Kavala spoke with a soft voice, one that was interwoven with pride and satiation and a hint of excitement.

She reached out and took first one hand then the other, healing both his palms. Then she held them gently before her and worked them into a cupped position in front of him, between their two bodies.

“You should concentrate Xira. You are overflowing with Res thanks to the ritual. Let it slide out the scars on your palms or from between your lips and fill the bowl your hands make. Let it express itself and tell you what sort of reimancers you will be. Go on… I’m eager to see.” Kavala said, her breath finally having calmed in her chest and her body scooting slightly away from Xira to give him room.

[Xira Hezmek]

They remained together for long periods of time. He was filled with magical energy and satisfaction of their time together. Xira's arms wrapped tightly about the konti and his lips found hers once more before breaking once more. He did not mind that the woman took charge, in fact he welcomed it. She was a strong kuvan woman and that gave her all the rights in Riverfall. It also helped that Xira, except for what they had just gone through, was rather mild mannered.

The two must have looked a sight. The courier and the healer indulging out in the open next to a beacon of multicolored light. They were both covered in black pain with designs that meant very different things for two very different people. Even with that, they were covered in cuts, some still connected by links of magic. Magic, blood, paint and clean sweat mingled together as the two completed the ritual.

He sat with the konti with his arms wrapped around her waist and back. She was thin; he did not know her full history but what he gathered was that it was trauma that brought this thinness, in some way or another. He rested his chin against her head, revelling in the combined pleasure of the magic, the left over sexual energies and the simple act of being close to the beautiful woman. This evening had gone far differently than he expected. Rather than a dry lecture over the intricacies of magic the cascade of events that led to his induction and... well the passions they were still enjoying. The courier turned mage lightly traced his fingertips along the curves of her marked body as she felt up his back. " That was amazing Kavala." He said simply, nuzzling into the top of her head.

Then she spoke. During their passion he had not realized the pains of his cuts across his body. It was not that he endured them, he simply forgot them until the moment before they were healed. The glowing warmth he felt gave way to the dull ache of many wounds, some stung painfully from the mixture of blood, now partially dried, and the black paint in his cuts. He watched in amazement as the woman used her divine gifts to close the wounds. The aches and pain of his body slid from him like that of a coat from his shoulders. He gave a soft sigh of relief now that only pleasure remained.

He nodded as she explained the magic. The idea of Djed, the magic the must have filled him. The word was foreign to his tongue and he pondered what language it was but did not ask. Reimancy was the magic he asked to learn, and Res was what he fed upon. Fascinating. He was momentarily distracted by the break of the final links of djed and physical. He suddenly felt lonely, despite being with another. It was as if already he was going into withdrawals from such an intense and intimate connection. His lips found hers and nodded for her to continue.

He would learn an element tonight. He rolled the words she spoke in his mind slowly, trying to understand exactly what it meant. The two were in a serious mood, but the afterglow of the ritual and the power imparted to him made him desire to cuddle Kavala more then anything. He wished to wrap his arms around her and protect her, even though should something happen, the opposite would be true. He forced himself to focus, and understand.

The final wounds were healed as he watched and she had him cup them together. They were still tangled together even if they were no longer one, facing each other. He looked up at her for reassurance briefly, caution holding back the overwhelming Res built up inside him. Xira let himself concentrate on his scars. To his surprise something moved within him. He did not fully understand what, but inside him something was being torn away as he focused. A violet tinged fluid filled his hands from his palms, his cupped into a bowl to hold the Res issuing forth.

Exercising the magic was unlike anything he had ever done before. The physical sensation was not far different from the feeling of shedding something ailing the body, or releasing one's self from an uncomfortable position. It was a difficult sensation to articulate but in general it was pleasurable. He grunted at the unexpected pleasure.

What sort of reimancer was he? Staring at the pool of Res filling his hand to the brim, his own djed, and considered what it meant. He was to let the magic express itself to find out what he could do. So what did he do? He let go. Xira closed his eyes and let go of all preconceived notions on what magic was and wasn't. The world was concrete in front of him, no matter his thoughts and perceptions. He could not get away from them, but he would strive to be objective about this. He was neutral about what would come next.

He opened his eyes. The Res had been replaced by a glittering white sand that started to slide through his fingers even as he struggled to keep it in his hands. He looked up at Kavala, confused and mystified. "What does this mean?"

My words

Their words

[Kavala]

There was something to be said about a new discovery. When this discovery involved oneself, there was always a miracle factor involved. Kavala watched Xira’s hands pool with res and then the res turn to sand and a wistful smile played across her lips. She remembered her own induction and what had come of it. Her hands too had been full of sand. She watched as it cascaded through his fingers and glanced up to catch a fleeting image of his surprised gaze measuring and figuring, trying to understand what he was seeing. The question was really rhetorical. Even though he’d just asked it, Kavala knew he understood what the sand meant even if his brain hadn’t yet had a chance to process what his eyes were seeing.

She reached out, smiled, and captured the sand that was falling through his fingers in a cupped palm, salvaging some of it. He would want to remember this day. She caught his hands just as the last of the sand drifted out of his cupped palms and bent her will to the magic as well. The sand he had created paled out and moved under her guidance. Res of her own making mingled with it, reformed it, and caused it to slither like a tiny snake across his palm and encircle one of his fingers. It was the ring finger of his right hand. The sand wrapped around his finger, coiling in on itself, and then hardened. It smoothed out and became granite hard in a material that seemed somewhere between stone and ceramic. The material immediately started to warm to his body temperature as the new stone ring gleamed. Its coloring suited him, swirling with a multitude of dimensions that somehow invoked a sort of inner peace.

“You are a Geomancer. Earth called to you first. I have no idea how the other elements will fall into place, but for now stone wants to claim you as one of its own. Earth was my first element too. It’s not as life-giving as water nor as flamboyant as fire, but it will never do you wrong, Xira. It is how The Sanctuary was made. Good solid stone is protective. You must have something deep inside that covets shelter and stability.” She said, shifting her stance and slowly uncoiling from where she was wrapped around him. Kavala stretched, standing before him, still looking inhuman with the coating of body paint that had so smeared due to the evenings activities as to make her skin face and hair look entirely black. She didn’t look Konti, not at all save for her almost inhuman blue eyes. And he could imagine he looked the same, all the black for his art having smeared and blended across his skin to tint his own countenance. His own deep blue eyes held a keen glow to them as well.

She reached a hand down and offered to help him to his feet. Their size difference was evident. He was both bigger and stronger

Then she glanced towards the sea. "Do you want to walk down to the water with me? The paint will come off in the surf." She said gently, knowing the sand would help as well. They were done with the ritual and he was fully inducted - in more ways than she had anticipated - but there were still things to do. She took his hand and together they walked down the beach until they had waded in to the water waist deep. The waves were gentle as it was almost an ebb tide. Kavala scooped salt water up, glad to have already healed his wounds, and gently dumped cupped palms full of water over his shoulders and chest. She bent down and grabbed up handfuls of the sand that she stood on and began rubbing very gently at his skin, causing the paint to stream from him in black rivets that stained the sea dark around them. At first her motions were utilitarian, worried only about the need to cleans his skin.

She gave him room to do the same for her if he so made the choice.

But when she touched his face, working the paint off with a combination of the salt water and just gentle rubbing, she paused to meet his gaze, her motions slowing. "I have inducted many people into reimancy." She started out softly, almost like a confession. "It gets intimate at times. But for me it has never gotten that intimate. I'm sorry if I took advantage of the moment, Xira. It should not have happened. I am, however, not sorry it did. The ritual was beautiful." She said, stepping forward to mold herself against him in the surf. She dropped her sandy hands to his waist, then reached up behind him and ran them down his back, working the paint off in an intimate way. It was as if she was in a full healer mode, her hands trying to wipe away any of his pain and confusion, any of his uncertainty or regret.

The Konti said nothing more, not wanting to ruin the moment by filling it with regret. To her the ritual had been beautiful. It was certainly not one she'd soon forget. For a few heartbeats, they'd joined arcanely and physically, as at least one of them started a new chapter in his life.

[Xira Hezmek]

Xira could not help but be in awe of both Kavala and himself. Her mastery of magic was unparalleled, and the thought that he might one day be like her filled him up just like the power... that djed, her djed filled him now. The sand that he held cupped in his palms was quickly falling away. It was a miracle, like creating water from nothing. He had made sand, earth. Even as he watched Kavala cast a spell herself and the sand that fell away was captured and tranfigured to a ring. He had a ring already, but it was a symbol of his unknown past. This was a symbol towards an unknown future.

The stone ring was warm to the touch, it felt... different than other rings and other stone. He touched it experimentally with his other hand. His fingertips grazed the colorful, opalescent ring as he admired it. It was warm to the touch. In the changing firelight it sparkled and felt far deeper than it actually was, a trick of the light, but there was something in its creation that felt truer towards that.

She spoke then, explain what he was. That Earth called to him, or he called to it. He nodded as her words filled the space between his ears. Her words and her prose were mystical, philosophical and arcane. He only partially understood it, but it made a certain amount of practical sense. The newly instituted mage, he the apprentice, was able to conjure forth power. His power became stone. What he would do with that stone... remained to be seen, but it was something beyond the mundane.

If Xira had the choice he would have kept the close and intimate touch for as long as possible. Unbound as he was with Kavala offering a hand to let him up, he yearned for her touch once more. He thoroughly enjoyed the touch of skin against skin; he felt hollow and alone without it. Xira nursed his withdrawal from the intimate and stood tall over the konti woman. Of course, it was only a couple inches, 4 or 5, but their difference was obvious.

"Of course Kavala." He said softly. Hand in hand they went down to the sea, the cool air a shock from the warmth of the fire and each other. Into the placid waters they went, the waves were as if Laviku himself drew back the tides in welcome to his daughter and the man that he might have approved of. Still he sucked in a breath at the shock of the cold water.

They then washed each other. Her hands scooped up water and sand and scrubbed away the paint while his hands did the same to her. It was different this way though. Where before they were wanton and carefree, they were now slow, methodical and gave attention to detail. Xira supposed he was beyond blushing at touching another woman, all things considered. But he made special care to use the sand and the water to remove the paint from Kavala's torso, over the taunt, corded belly and chest. His hands moved about her hips and across her back as she started on his face.

He blinked as she spoke but then nodded to her words. He knew that he was not her first, even if she was his. She had children, he knew that for her to have this magic that she would have had this exact same thing happen to her. She pressed herself to him and he took her into his arms. "I understand Kavala. I will admit this was not what I was expecting, that perhaps I could have restrained myself. But... I did not, and I didn't want to either. I do not regret anything we did so far tonight. It was indeed beautiful and... I am glad I got to share it with you.." He trailed off, in the darkness he was blushing and his voice obviously became rather shy.

Perhaps it was the post ritual feelings, but he felt very attached to the konti woman at that moment. Instead of speaking further he lightly pressed his lips against hers and then leaned his forehead against hers. He stood with her for long moments, the darkened waters around them lapped against their nude bodies. He felt mixed that evening, standing there with the master of the Sanctuary, a very successful businesswoman, now a colleague, a mentor and a friend. Joy and djed filled him, satisfaction settled in his bones, the deep pains of his perceived past hurts were forgotten and he was allowed to enjoy time with someone that he truly felt comfortable around.

He broke the contact a moment and smiled at her. "Here, let me help you with that paint" He murmured softly, using wet fingertips to very gently scrub away the pain of her face. He traced along the delicate curves of her face. If he were blind, he could be mapping it, seeing with his fingers as the paint washed away. Satisfied that he got most of the paint off he gave her space and then slid himself down into the waters. With the water up to his chest he smiled at her then dunked his head back. Salt water covered his face and drew away the last vestiges of pain from his body. He was clean.

When he came up for air, rather than stand up again he simply floated in the water next to Kavala. That night was not only about learning about the subtle and arcane, but enjoying life's simple pleasures. He was newly reborn after all. He playfully splashed water at the konti, she who was as much a fish as a woman, and floated himself back to shore. He used his hands and arms to "walk" in the water until he brushed against the shoals. He sat on the beach, watching the konti before her, waiting for her to finish cleansing herself.

"Thank you Kavala" He said to her with a smile.

My words

Their words