Offerings for Home (Closed)

[Amirah]

--Amirah
Minutes, hours, a day or so passed. Time had no baring in the darkness, it was hard to tell between wake and dream, for the moment in the dark crawled by, as eyes strained, and ears listened for the barest sounds, the answers to their prays and pleas. Through it all the Eypharian slept in a strange valley of safety. The free form stirred beneath the light drapping of chains upon her. As her eyes blinked open the tension of consciousness returned as open eyes met only darkness.

“Has there been any change?” The words were like all her others, were straight to the heart of the matter, frivilty forgone since before their captured, but the tone, was one rarely heard. Not yet the firm voice that gave no sign of fear or wonder, her words were whispered in gentle tones, her voice was soft and still laden with sleep.

--Lye
"Aside from me needing a cigarette?" Lye laughed quietly, which was quickly interrupted by a cough. The chains clattered as he turned his head and covered his mouth with his fists. He'd only woken a few moments before she had, and despite the fact that he was uncomfortably hot from the combination of the near stifling desert heat, and the woman's warm body, he hadn't squirmed or complained.

"No, not really. Well...I was awake for a while last night, listening to them. Watching them. I don't know what the hell they're speaking, or what they're saying, but I catch a couple of words once in a while that I recognize. From the way they act, their gestures, shit like that...I think they're former military. Well, most of them. Maybe they're just disillusioned soldiers who decided to look into more lucrative trades - I don't know. But they seem to want to get rid of us, and make coin." The irony of it stung him him almost enough to make him wince; it was a painful thing to have the tables turned on oneself. He'd always felt so smug and smart when he'd sold someone off to the Cyphrus barbarian tribes, loved that jingle of filthy lucre - and now he was in their shoes.

"They're definitely not the same as the ones that captured us. You uh...you sleep well?"

--Amirah
“What did it sound like? <Did it sound at all like this?>” The woman shifted her hand raising for before the tips of her fingers touched the Akalaks skin, one finger above each eye brown, the middle above the bridge of his nose and her pinky and thumb low on his cheeks. The Eypharian could not see but the feel of the facial muscles beneath her fingers could at least give an idea of the strong expressions that a face would make beneath her touch.

How greatly the Eypharian missed her sight, being trapped within this darkness robbed her of so much. After a moment the woman nodded before sliding away, her body slipping beneath the chains that bound Lye with realative ease.

“Need to borrow this.” The woman said as her hand brushed along Lye’s leg before her hand took hold of the Akalak’s booted foot. The Eypharian moved from woman to woman, cutting the binds with no malice, and little word but a touch of her hand to a head or a shoulder as thanks were proclaimed. She even knelt beside the brunette with no word said and cut away the bindings. At the moment, Amirah left the women to their own devices, she had no plans, none yet, but that would surely change soon.

Sitting back before Lye, the woman thought as she took the time to put the boot back upon the man’s foot. It was more for keeping the only warrior near, armed, than actual politeness, but all the same it was done, however distracted by her own thoughts.

A growl came from her throat, pale teeth peaked from behind dry lips as a look came to the woman’s face of great distaste.

“Damn it all. Have you seen the door to get out of this place yet?”

--Lye
"Well, yeah, of course I have. They shoved me through it when they realized they were just tickling Uriel. It's right over there." The akalak nodded towards the only point of entrance to the pens, then winced slightly, realizing that unlike himself, she could barely see. "Er, I mean, it's about like, thirteen paces away from me, on this wall," he clarified, thumping on the aforementioned wall loudly with his fist to draw her attention to it. "The door was strange though. It used some pully and countermeasure thing; it took two people to open it. But I've got an idea on how to get the thing open."

Awkwardly, Lye leaned over, nearly having to shove his head into his lap to reach his legs. Straining, he tugged on the cuff of his boots, straightening them. Sitting up, he watched the now freed women enjoying their freedom of movement long enough for most of them to cover their head in their hands and curl in on themselves. "Right now, we've basically got all the time in the fusting world...did I mention I could really use a cigarette? I already would have been fusting with the door, but uh, you ever heard of Flux? Yeah, that's why I still haven't gotten up."

The Eypharian paused in the darkness before she rose to her hands and knees and crawled to the Akalak’s side. “Give me your hand. Trust me.”

Hands were soft. While dry, without her oils, or cleansing, were still soft, the muscles in her hands were strong. There was skill in her hands as her fingers pushed and manipulated his skin and the muscles beneath it. She manipulated his hand rubbing it between her own, and her knowledgeable fingers, she was not using the true skill of her profession and but the barest basics, things even commoners knew enough to do to gently relax the muscles o the hand, her fingers moved without thought still pressing gently upon points of pressure to slowly relax the muscles that extended up the arm and slowly the mind.

“Feeling any better?”

--Lye
"A lot," he said with a sigh, the usual anger completely vanishing from his voice. The painful cramps in his forearm and hands began to slowly, but noticeably disintegrated under the firm touch of the eypharian, and the flux inflicted pain wracking his muscles ebbed at first, then flowed out of the limb as though someone had pulled the stopper on a drain. "I sort of thought I was bleeding on the inside." He laughed about that, despite its grim overtones; he'd learned of the heavy consequences of using the magic all on his own. Sometimes he suspected that Arkoh had taught him flux just to let his nephew be torn apart from the inside with it.

"Uhm...thanks." Lye cleared his throat and squirmed a bit, shifting his weight and wincing, feeling awkward. While he wasn't going to say it, he was still too exhausted to stand up on his own and investigate the stronge locking mechanism of the door. "Just gimme...I dunno, a couple of hours sitting here. Maybe I'll take a nap. Maybe. You still can't see too well, can you?”

--Amirah
“No, I cannot, but thankfully my job is to feel with my hands, more than see with my eyes the visual cues. Lay down, please.” Amirah shifted to her side and waited until he Akalak laid down upon his back on their clean potion of the cage. He made noise, but stil the Akalak laid down for her and at this side the Eypharian rose to her knees and leaning over the Akalak too one hand into each pair of hers and began again. To each hand of his hand between each of her own, Amirah’s fingers gently began to stroke the skin and muscles. Taking care to manipulate the wide array of pressure points the hand had to offer in unison. Her fingers squeeze and pressed upon the points said to relieve the pain of the head and back, that were spoken of to clear the mind and free thoughts.

This was all simply a start, starting with the hands and focusing upon them to help ease the tension of the muscle of the arms and shoulders, yet this was nothing like the effect of her manipulating the arm and shoulders directly. While she moved gently and applied steading pressure to each point she was attentive to the hands in her care. Her motions were firm yet gentle and luxuriously unhurried despite the situation and danger they were in. She was a competent practitioner, and while her motions were smooth and fluid, they were still not second nature. Not in this darkness nor with the unfamiliar body and clothing of one she could not see. Yet her ministrations were better than nothing. Yet most of this was hidden by her doting attention and slow ministrations, making each touch like that of lovers.

Truthfully, this was not done out of the kindness of her heart, now was not the time to be giving out, free massages of all things, something she’d bring up another time, as in when they were not captured and him unarmed. But after a night of rest or at least a few hours worth he was still unable to move, making him absolutely useless to her.

She needed him fit, needed him ready, to fight to run, whatever it was needed for them to survive. For her to survive. Damn it all, them. She was not so foolish to believe she would have done so well on her own. And the fact that the Akalak felt so inclined still to protect her was a comfort that had not been acknowledged until they were tossed within the pitch black cell. It was a strange worry for those first few dark moments of her protection gone, or that he was injured, and they were not of the matter of her safety now compromised.

Yet that could have no baring. Romances always seem to develop under stressful situations, something in their natures that made people bond to another in those stressful times. While it surely helped to ensure their survival, this being defiantly the case. For it to develop beyond that… could not do.

The massaging hands moved down to the Akalak’s arms slowly just as before.

“Rest. Please. I can at least watch over you here. I doubt anything can happen that will not stir you.”

--Lye
For a moment, he eyed her suspiciously, almost forgetting the brief moments of forced kindness she'd given to him. They were appreciated, sure, but Uriel had spent quite a bit of time reminding him that she needed him more than he really needed her. Still, he was broke; she had robbed him in cards and dice just as efficiently as he'd robbed many others at knife point, and he needed her alive and healthy by the time they reached Ahnatep to collect his money. With a pained groan he couldn't manage to suppress, Lye leaned to his side and flopped weakly onto the floor of the cage, slowly stretching out.

Again, a sound of surprised relief left him before he could nip it in the bud as her hands again began to press into him, bleeding out the soreness and stiffness plaguing his powerful, yet, at the moment, crippled form. Tension melted from his neck as she again worked only on his hands alone, and his head dropped to the floor, the rough wood pressing into his cheek. Both pairs of her hands moved across his back, and slowly, his eyes began to slip closed. She had mentioned something about her job involving her hands, and it was easily clear to him just how she had managed to not bat an eye at the exorbitant price he'd whipped out to escort her from Riverfall to her home.

"Two hours," he mumbled quietly, sleep pressing down on him, smothering, unable to raise his voice. "Just two...and if...something...anything ha...ppens...scream...kick me in the ribs...if you can..." His voice became quieter, until finally, he fell into complete, dark bliss, his taxed body far, far from his his blissful mind.

[Lye]

The creaking of dry rope of the sand of falling, sifting sand brought the akalak to stir out of his satisfying, deep sleep. His opened in slits, his vision blurry, the bright glow of desert sunshine sting angrily at his pupils before a shadow passed over him, giving him a brief respite from the needling, annoying pain. With a grunt, he lifted himself off the floor of the cage, brushing stray grains off his cheek and chin as he got to his knees, swiftly growing used to the invading light. He realized then that the sounds had been the raising of the door - a slight sneer pulled at his lips - it seemed as though he wouldn't have to be fiddling with the mechanism, after all. Climbing to his feet, he flexed and stretched his arms, a yawn escaping him despite the danger.

He couldn't help but be amazed; most of the cramps, aches, and hot knots of tension had all but vanished. Curling his hands into fists, while the joints did not sting from the fatal beatings he'd given to the original slaver crew, the cuts upon his knuckles still burned - but that momentary discomfort was easily ignored. The akalak squeezed the strong muscles of his forearm with one hand, and turned his head slowly towards the temporary Eypharian comrade. The cold, serpent-like look in his eyes, and the almost mocking feel of the smile could tell the woman that the woman that had woken from slumber was not Lye.

"Against the wall!" The woman in the cage scrambled to throw themselves against the back of the large, mobile cell, but the akalak turned his head towards the voice barking the order, his blood chilling, humored smile never once faltered as he shuffled towards the back at his own leaisure. Three men had entered; one whose face was hidden in wrappings of the dune walkers, a small, rather stout man, whose stature made him think of an Isurian, and a third with a finely trimmed, dark beard, his nostrils, ears, and eyebrows glittering with gold rings. The veiled man and the short man held crossbows on their captives. As soon as everyone was against the back wall, they began to talk seriously between each other, discussing the best places to sell their properties.

"I wonder though, what an Akalak is doing so far from its precious Riverfall?" The smirk on Uriel's face began to stretch further, becoming a dark jester's grin. The peirced man and the short man shrugged, and the veiled one stepped forward, holding his crossbow in a resting position. "Maybe we could take this one to Falyndar? The Myrian's are particularly fond of - " The veiled man had made the mistake of glancing back towards his friends and taking his eyes off the blue skinned killer. Uriel's hands darted with startling speed from behind his back and wrapped around the crossbow and man's trigger hand. His strength barely challenged by the human, the akalak jammed the weapon under the man's chin, who fired the bolt into his own skull by his shocked, kneejerk reaction of squeezing the trigger. Spooked by the effortless, quick kill, the short man fired off his weapon, his own bolt punching into the back of his dead friend's neck.

The peirced one took a step back, eyes wide with fear and surprise. The short one began to curse furiously, struggling to reload his crossbow. Uriel reached around the corpse he still clutched, tore free the bolt in its flesh, and hurled the body across the cage. It collided into the short man, and the akalak followed quickly, thrusting the bolt through his eye like a dagger. Sighing, he rose over the two corpses, and then frowned disapprovingly at the fince crimson spray that had splashed across his ragged shirt. "Blast and damn your eyes, sir. Well, eye," Uriel muttered, his smile faltering for a moment before he turned his dark gaze on the lone survivor of the three.

The peirced man seemed to have forgotten the door, and backed up against the closest wall, groping at it with clammy hands. The akalak grinned widely, tapping slowly, thoughtfully at his chin. He admired in particular the shirt the slaver wore; dark blue, long sleeved, with black emobroidery runnin down the arms, chest, and stomach. A hood pooled around his shoulders, surely to keep the sun off the man's head. "Well, say there, sir, that sure is a fine...beautiful shirt you have there..." Uriel began to chuckle as he approached the slav er, his hands tensed.