[The Wildlands] Amazing Grace (Closed, Grace)

[Abashai]

Once again Grace did not rush. Abashai had laid out a gauntlet of sorts, inspired by the woman's subtle humor. He assumed, hoped, that his loaded question would garner a reaction. The nature of that reaction would reveal more about her, probably more than several direct questions would. His interest in Grace Cade was not simply social. Every person he encountered could be an enemy, an ally, or someone with the potential to become either. Even Grace's casual but measured actions betrayed her approach to their conversation. She was savoring it, each question, every exchange of information a morsel that she chewed slowly, identifying flavor, discerning details of its content. Once again the golden-haired arecheologist reclined comfortably against the stone, ready to feed Abashai another elusive response. Her replies seemed intended to deflect his inquiries, yet only proved to give rise to more questions in the Benshiran's mind. Not theoretical? No, she did not come across as an academic. Perhaps her profession was more mercenary, perhaps she sold her finds to the highest bidder. But Grace had displayed a true passion when she spoke of her work, not as one that would peddle the notions of truth she uncovered. His analytical mind churned on that line of thought, his head dropping to watch as one hand absent-mindedly traced the dark design on the palm of the other. When she mentioned Kelvic, Abashai's head lifted to look at Grace, thinly veiled surprise apparent in his masculine features. How did she know about Nya? She did not seem to practice any magic, yet she had figured out his wife's race. The Chevas mark. Grace Cade was good, and he could see now how effective she must be in finding the hidden things she sought. Abashia's gaze narrowed almost imperceptively. If she was indeed who she claimed to be, what a useful ally she could prove to be in their search. The Benshiran hesitated, wary of revealing too much about Nya. "She is a forest cat." He replied nonchalantly. "A kevlic bond is both a beautiful and a challenging thing, if it is not abused." Abashai was, of course, an advocate of the Kelvic race. Nya had horrified him with tales of the fighting pits where Kelvic slaves were forced to fight. In parts of Mizahar, Kelvics were bought and sold, used and abused for all sorts of heinous things. His own heart pounded angrily even as he thought about someone exploiting his beloved Nya in such a way. "Markus Kelvic created a magnificent thing when he made the Kelvic." The desert man's face softened, his voice laced with an obvious affection. "There is no friendship like that of Kelvic bondmates."

[Grace]

She felt a little jolt of satisfaction as his response betrayed his surprise, and she lowered her gaze the ground to avoid any glimmer of such that might flash across the matte of gray. Once the moment had passed she looked back to Abashai, determining how to proceed. He had willingly offered up details of the thing most important to him and she had no desire to prey upon his softened heart for fear of shutting any door she may have opened. There was time, of that she was sure. Even if their meeting today were to end abruptly she was quite certain their paths would cross again. "One day I may have the pleasure of meeting her." She released the subject of his wife for the moment, knowing that a confidence coerced is far less valuable than one that is earned. Without prodding she returned the confidence with some of her own, speaking with deep-seated warmth of her father. She gestured to the writings and reference splayed out around her. "These were my fathers. " She glanced at a few key papers. "Well some of them." She offered up the information openly, and came as close as she ever had to inviting his questions. She even went so far as to retrieve a nearby journal, worn and fragile, but cared for so obviously that even as she offered it to him, the warning to take care that flared in her eyes was palpable. This was the first glimmer of a nature so fierce, that to sit there as calm as she was must have taken the discipline of a monk. "Take care." She offered in her rich lilting voice. " Its value is beyond measure." After handing him the book she sat back, watching his treatment of it. Though it was not spoken aloud, he would sense that his handling of this piece of history was a test... the lynch pin that would dictate the future complexion of their dealings. The early pages of the journal were filled with the graphic, blocky writing of a man's hand. The narration was that of a scribe, recording the details of a life. As the pages went on, the hand changed, evolving into the round lettered hand of a juvenile girl. The words were different, more lyrical in their description, and the scope of detail had multiplied tenfold... every nuance recorded. Leaving aside the content, the books appearance told as much about the owner as anything. As the book progressed, the style became refined, still overflowing with passion, but gaining a reserve, a more analytical eye with which to report. Even the shape of the letters changed, though clearly it was the same hand, they shrugged off their 'baby fat' becoming graceful and beguiling, beckoning the reader to submerge themselves in the truth and beauty of the words.

[Abashai]

Grace was an intriguing woman, subtle, coy and perceptive. Abashai found her elegant effort to control and conceal what he saw of her true persona only made the discovery of that persona more tempting. There was no spark of infidelity in the Benshiran's heart, though Grace was admittedly attractive. Abashai was adamantly faithful to Nya. However, there was growing interest in this stranger, if only because of her uniqueness and apparent depth. Abashia nodded as Grace deftly directed the conversation from Nya to herself, much to the Benshiran's relief. He leaned forward as he sat on the stone, elbows on his knees, eying more closely the myriad of scattered documents surrounding the woman. She apparently carried on the work of her father, a very honorable thing in the eyes of a Benshiran. It also shed light on the intensity with which Grace appeared to undertake her work, for bearing the posterity of a parent's life work was typically borne with much passion. The nature of that work gave rise to questions of its purpose. Was it to simply gain knowledge? Were there specific things they sought to find? Was there a particular Truth Grace and her father had sought? Cautious in conversation, the man's inquiries were withheld for the moment as Grace reached for something in particular. Though the writings spread around her seemed to be treated with mundane deference, the worn journal she had retrieved was handled with much care. The book was held out towards him with such deliberate reverence that Abashai's eyes darted from the weathered item to Grace. Her gray eyes flashed a steely admonition of tentative trust and a vague threat if that trust was betrayed. The step the woman had taken to open something of herself was not lost on Abashai, nor was the consequences should he abuse that trust. The Benshiran acknowledged his understanding with a slight, solemn nod and a sincerity in his blue-green gaze as he reached with both hands to take the journal. He had held sacred and powerful things before, holy writings, enchanted weapons, mysterious things. He treated Grace's book with similar respect, running his hands gently across the stained cover and scuffed binding. Slowly leafing through the pages, Abashai could see the progress of the life of this work and its authorship, from the father to the child, the child growing to adulthood. The content was detailed, and Shai only skimmed the running pages of notes on archeological findings, speculations, values and histories. The writings at the last portion of the journal were the most evolved, the script elegant and the reading descriptive and at times esoteric. After a long moment perusing the precious pages, Abashai closed the journal and, with the same care the owner had afforded the item, handed it back to Grace. The desert man's voice broke the silence with a sober, accented tone. "I can see this is a work of the heart. I respect the diligence with which you have carried on your father's work. I believe there is a great need in our world to understand what has lost to the past." Grace could not know the depth of Abashai's conviction on the matter, how he, as Ardrem, had spent several incarnations with Nya in pursuit of powerful artifacts lost to history. "I fear I would not have the patience to sift through the sands of time for shards of the past and then try to piece them together." His gaze scanned the ruins again, the sound of the workers still audible over the small rise. Looking back to Grace, he gave her an almost apologetic smile. With the creaking of leather and the rustle of his heavy wool coat, Abashai shifted in his seat to reach into a pocket of his outer garment. He pulled out a small statuette, glanced at it with a smirk and then set it in his palm. The Benshiran held the item out towards Grace. The figure was of a black and white monkey, two fingers of one hand pointing to its eyes, two fingers of its other hand jutting forward as if pointing at the woman. "This is not as significant or dear as your journal, but it is rather curious, and holds poignant memories for me." His hand lifted slightly, an indication for the woman to take it.

[Grace]

With the same deliberate care with which she had handed him the journal, she retrieved it from the Benshiran, punctuating the exchange with a nod and a soft smile. She placed it on top of a low stack of similar journals close to her hip. When the dark man reached into the pocket of his coat, Grace straightened, her interest peaked. With her elbow resting on a steepled knee, she leaned forward just a fraction and her eyes took on the look of a child waiting for a great surprise to be revealed. When the small quirky monkey was revealed her eyes sparkled and her head cocked curiously to the side, gray eyes flicked to Abashai's face and then back to the palm of his hand. Without taking her attention from his offering, she reached to her necklace and unthreaded her glasses, sliding them onto the bridge of her nose with a graceful movement of habit. She hugged her arms to her chest and leaned forward, first taking in the physical details without touching it. As she leaned closer, curiously looking at the statuette, one hand raised to her face, a soft fingertip riding a line back and forth across her lower lip. As the movement of her finger stopped, she looked up at Abashai, her eyes bright with curiosity, her finger began tapping on the center of her lower lip and then she very carefully, with both hands, reached out to take the prize. Every discovery, it seemed, garnered her undivided attention. With the statuette in hand, she leaned back, turning it over and over. She laughed softly, holding the monkey on a flattened palm with its boney little finger offering her a warning. She lifted it to eye level, almost staring the monkey down and then finally spoke. "It possesses much gravitas for a tiny monkey. " She grins. She turns her hand to look at all sides of the monkey, using her limb as a viewing pedestal. "I suppose you might interpret it a few ways. A warning?" She looks at him to gauge his response to her first interpretation, and then returns her attention to the monkey. "A guardian?" Again, she checks in for his response. "Or perhaps a show of bravado, in the face of disadvantage." She turned the statue over, looking for any markings or maker or artisan. After several moments of investigation she carefully offers the statuette back to Abashai. "What a curious little thing. If I were an optimist... I would choose the second option. "She smiles, slipping her glasses free and returning them to her chain. "Where did it come from? I've seen other small statuettes, but never one with such bold intent. Most that I've seen were ones of a more subservient complexion. Yours seems more than ready to take charge." She smiles brightly, and then suddenly sits up straight-backed, looking past Abashai. "Jasper!" She brings two fingers to her lips and out comes a sharp clear whistle. "Six steps!" She watches, as the golden red horse looks back at her, tosses its head, and takes exactly six steps back. She smiles and makes a sweet clicking noise with her lips and tongue. Her attention returns to Abashai and she speaks with a gentle, affectionate tone. "He tests me, always making sure that I've one eye on him. That would be Jasper, my companion." She narrows her eyes, considering a thought for a lingering moment, and then stands. Grace is a tall woman, deceptively so, but even as she brushes the dust and sand from her clothes it is clear that her height offers no hindrance to her grace and agility. She carefully dances through the collection of papers, maps and journals to emerge on the outside edge next to the Benshiran. "Come, I will introduce you." She beckons him with curled fingers and begins making her way to the horse. "He likes to play with me, getting too close to the dig sight." She flicks a gaze, with straightened lips toward the careless banging and scraping of the men working. "It is not a safe place for one who carries all that weight on such tiny ankles." When she reaches the horses side, she runs a flattened palm over his top line, then threads her long fingers into his mane. "Are you feeling neglected?" Jasper turns, thumping his head gently against her chest, where it remained. Grace reaches into her pocket and pulls out something, presenting it to the horse’s velvety muzzle. As Jasper is mouthing softly at the treat in her hand she glances back to see the Abashai has followed. "This is Abashai." Her demeanor with the horse is one of protection and love, and as she stands there virtually holding his head in her hands she reveals a much softer view of her personality. "You do like horses?"

[Abashai]

Grace examined the monkey figurine as if he had handed her an artifact from some lost emperor's tomb. She wore those magnifiers on her nose that scholars and tinkerers used to see the finer details of their subject, and the woman appeared every bit the expert as she combed the statuette with her analytical gaze. Abashai found it amusing that she treated the object with such curiosity. She could not know its significance, or its unique nature. As the woman examined the piece, the man examined the woman. She was a bit of a curiosity herself. In appearance, Grace was quite young, unable to conceal her youthful features behind those studious glasses. But everything about her demeanor spoke of maturity and experience. In a brief thought, he wondered what she knew of Areesa Tallshade. But he held his tongue, listening to the archeologist as she posed her questions about the monkey, wondering if he should answer, or if they were rhetorical. With a smile Abashai received the small figure back, keeping it in his hand as he took a breath to answer her questions. But his response was cut short as she called out. Her gaze drifted past his own to some point behind him. Th Benshiran turned to see the woman's horse nearby. With a soft grin, he stood and followed her to meet her steed. He approached cautiously, as he did with any animal, making sure the horse could see him clearly. Grace suddenly appeared her age, a girl with her horse, the two nuzzling and displaying affection for one another. His smile broadened as Grace introduced him, and he took a few careful steps toward the mount, slowing reaching out to stroke the tall dun's mane. "He is a lovely animal." Abashai paused, reflecting on Grace's question, the wording indicating that he should, indeed, like horses. "Yes, I love horses. Sus there.." His head tilted towards the Desertbred grazing nearby, "... has accompanied me from the Burning Lands, for two years he was my only companion." I find I enjoy the company of animals as much, and sometimes more so, than people." He suddenly looked down at the monkey statuette in his hand, and flashing a wry grin at Grace, he turned and threw the thing as hard as he could, the object hitting the ground and bouncing until it settled out of view at a distance. His gaze turned back to Grace, an ornery twinkle in his eye. Then he glanced at the weapons dangling at her hips. Abashai liked weapons, and hers piqued his interest. "I assume you know how to use those, may I ask how you learned?"

[Grace]

"Sus." She spoke the name as she looked over at Abashai's horse. "He's beautiful, the grass here," She makes a sweeping motion around them. " is a sweeter variety if you'd like to bring him ov-" Her words were cut short as he launched the monkey out of sight. Her eyes went wide and as fell back against Jasper, leaning there with the first look of surprise he would have seen on her face since the start of their interaction. "You are a curious man." She looks at Abashai, seeing a recognizable flash of mischief that she'd seen so often while looking at her own reflection. An eyebrow rises as he asks his question and she glances down at the Tiger Hook swords. The curiosity regarding the out of sight monkey was making the fine hairs on her neck stand up... but she was quite certain the Benshiran had reasons for every action he took. For the moment, she would resist her usual instinct to question everything.. but just for the moment. Her hand moves to rest on the hilt of one of her swords. "They would be rather cumbersome and useless things to carry with me each day if I did not. Don't you think? " Her eyes and demeanor had lost any reflection of the youth she still possessed as she smiled at him. But had she really answered his question? Her eyes were drawn to the place the monkey had disappeared...but she deliberately looked back to Abashai. That little flash in his eyes was very intriguing to her, there was a thrill deep set in the pit of her stomach at seeing that which she was so familiar with in herself. "You look as though you have a great secret... one you are dying to tell me. Let's have it. " She smiled at him, the look on her face was that of a worthwhile opponent, determined and clever beyond appearance. She slid the glasses from her nose and returned them to their usual place around her neck. An absent hand reached up and ran along Jasper's neck while her eyes remained locked on Abashai. Even in their short acquaintance, she knew to be prepared for anything, or was that just a function of her character?

[Abashai]

Abashai was pleased to see the look of surprise on Grace's face as he casually tossed away the monkey figurine. She seemed to pride herself on having control of the conversation, only revealing of herself that she which she wished to have seen. The Benshiran had managed to elicit an involuntary reaction, and it brought a wider smile to his face. The woman recovered quickly as the man changed the topic to her weapons. She turned his inquiry with a clever response, a deflection of sorts. She was still curious about something, as her lingering gaze betrayed. She saw a secret, coaxed him to tell it, and Abashai was surprised at her boldness. Secrets were not shared with strangers. He had secrets, ones he would not tell. But he knew what she saw, his simple trick waiting to be played out. The desert man reached out to gently caress Jasper's strong neck, his eyes casually examining the fine animal. "Secret? My, what makes you think I have a secret? And even more, what makes you think I want to tell it?" He paused, his mind suddenly shifting to Nya. He could feel her absence, a void in his conscious where his mate's own being seemed to reside when they were together. He truly felt half of a whole without her. Abashai wondered what this place, what Grace would smell like with Nya's sense of smell. He felt a twinge of worry, not liking to be away from his beloved mate for long. He reached out to find her, brushing against her consciousness. She was hunting still, and seemed in no distress. He sent a message, telling her he was safe and well. He would have to tell her about Grace when he could. He did not want Nya to feel he kept a secret from her, nearly impossible with the incredibly intimate nature of their bond. Abashai was conscientious of whom he spoke to, for Nya could be a jealous cat. After a breath, Abashai was back. His gaze settled back on the woman's gray eyes. He had stoked her curiosity, and for the moment, he held sway of their encounter. The smile that had waned as his mind wandered returned, and it took a wry curl. He held open the pocket in his coat, the one from which he had pulled the monkey. "Reach your hand in here." He spoke, the look of a mischievous child in his bright blue-green eyes. If Grace had the courage to obey, her fingers would wrap around the very same statuette that he had thrown away.

[Grace]

Grace was just a little bit miffed at the flash of satisfaction on his face, she'd been honestly surprised, and that was rare. But instead of dwelling on her misstep, trying to figure out how she might have avoided it, she let it go, just this once. Her analytical mind cringed just a little. Turning her eyes to Abashai, she needed to get her control back. As always, losing the upper hand made her feel like she was naked amidst a crowd, much too vulnerable for her comfort. "It's written all over your face. " She watched him, recovering a sly smile as she crossed her arms over her chest. "But if you'd rather keep it to yourself, I will abide that." In the next moment there was a change in his face, as though some part of him had left the conversation. Without saying another word, she watched the movement of his expression. Initially, there was a flash of panic... not much, just enough to be seen, then it appeared as though he would not be found anywhere near here, were she to spend the whole day looking. Where did he go in that moment? Like the unspoken secret, everything was right there on his face, should a person take the time to look. When the distinct feeling of comfort and love colored his face, she knew immediately, and looked away for a brief moment, feeling as though she were eavesdropping. When she looked back there was a flash of something that seemed like guilt, but it was so quick that she began questioning whether she'd really seen it. Then without ceremony he was once again present, holding open his coat pocket for her to explore. What a curious sort.. Her arms still crossed, she leaned forward, at first trying to peer into the pocket to learn its secrets, but she had little success. So without announcement, her hand shot out with the agility and whispered touch of a master thief, emerging from his pocket with the monkey clasped between her long fingers. This time, she kept her surprise will hidden, narrowing her eyes as she felt the muscles along her jaw tighten. She offered the first, most explainable reason she could think of to once again be holding the monkey. "You have more than one?" She turned it over in her hand, noting the same exact markings as that of the first monkey, it was identical if not exact. Her lips pursed a bit as she investigated it, every now and again flicking her eyes to the Benshiran to see that same satisfied grin. She took her time in commenting further, feeling the need to deflect away from herself and set him a little off guard. "Did you find your wife?" Her eyes flashed with a flame of mischief as her mouth curled into a smile. You do not know who you are up against...

[Abashai]

If Grace was surprised to find the monkey figurine in his pocket, she was more adept to conceal it. Abashai felt a bit mischievous, like a boy pulling a prank, the woman more like a girl as she peered into his pocket, as if to expect a frog to jump out. His smug grin persisted. His smile faded into an expression of mock disappointment. "A duplicate? Surely you do not take me as some juvenile flim flam man peddling pathetic illusions to children!" His smile returned, a glint of sincerity returning to his crystalline blue-green eyes. He held out his hand, palm up in an unspoken request for the item to be returned. "I cannot tell you for sure what it is. I cannot get rid of it, no matter what I do, it always returns to me. It is a reminder, I believe. A curious creature, a monkey of sorts identical to that statuette, aided me during a very dark and dangerous moment. It saved my life. At the end of the day, he was gone and that appeared." As he gazed at the thing in Grace's hands, his eyes glazed over, his smile flattening. That day bore many painful memories of battle and suffering, a day both he and Nya should have breathed their last. But the gods once again stepped into their lives to alter their fate. The light of his presence returned to his eyes and Abashai shook his head almost imperceptibly. "So, the little critter felt it necessary that I never forget him." The Benshiran's eyes lifted to Grace's. She had regained her air of confidence, which she brandished by revealing her understanding of his silent musings. She knew where his thoughts had been, his mind on Nya. There was a taunting twinkle in her eye as her coy grin returned. Grace was proving to be a woman to reckon with. Abashai could not disguise how her question unnerved him. "She is fine..." He offered tentatively, his gaze swinging away towards Sus and the pack horse. Grace was perceptive, certainly a trait honed in the attention to details her work required. He did not like to be so easily read. Nya knew him, inside and out, in every physical, emotional, mental and spiritual way. And it was her right as his bondmate and wife, and inescapable since she was resurrected with substance of his own life force. But only she was welcomed to know what resided within his head and heart. "Grace..." He strove to turn the subject, "...Have you met resistance in your work, those who deem what is dead and gone should remain so?"

[Grace]

Grace turned the figurine over once more, looking at the details before setting it gently on Abashai's open palm. She listened to his telling of how he came to possess it and commented. "It does not seem like an experience you would ever forget. Perhaps if not today, there will be one day you will elaborate." She sees the look on his face and the not so subtle closing of a door when she asks about his wife. As he looks away, she takes a few steps back, offering him a physical as well as mental respite from her observation, putting between them a small buffer of distance. Her hand slips into her pocket to retrieve another treat for Jasper, holding it just below his muzzle as he muffled into her palm. When Abashai's attention returned to the present, she lowered her eyes and spoke in a quiet voice. "This is why most of my time is spent with Jasper." She looks up to meet his eyes. "It is my natural state, to observe. Nuance, is like a a siren call to me." She shakes her head, catching her lip in the clutch of her teeth. "Please accept my apologies if I've...intruded." She strokes her hand along Jasper's neck and he lets out quiet nicker. With her eyes still focused on the Benshiran she leans against Jasper comfortably. There is a quick flash of regret in her eyes as she starts to consider if her insight had taken her too far into his personal limits. Upon hearing his deflective question, she glances at her work area, and takes a moment to consider her answer. As she pauses, her left hand lifts to curl over the scrolling feather imprinted along her neck. Finally, she lets her eyes move back to his. "Of course." She nods. "But to date.. my will to discover, has yet to be met with enough resistance to stop me." Determined gray eyes now watched him. Slowly and deliberately she crosses her arms over her chest, still leaning against Jasper. " Is that your belief Abashai? Do you believe there is no place in the present for the secrets of the past? " She cocks her head to the side, surveying him with some measure of anticipation.