Closed When Twin Hearts Dream of Freedom (Shiress)

[Rook]

Spring 5, 518
The House of Immortal Pleasures
Just Past 8th Bell

There was something to be said for good behavior. Occasionally it brought leniency. In this case, it brought the perfect opportunity.

Rook had asked to see that his lady’s weapons were being properly repaired, and to offer Mizas as incentive for the job to be done quickly. He had little plans to see to the matter today. If he didn’t accomplish it, he would admit failure to his master and accept his punishment. At this moment, tracking down the slave woman was far too important, and Rook didn’t really care what his Lady did to him. He needed peace of mind. There was a nagging itch in him that shouted at him to find the slave, and until he had the kelvic could not rest.

Which brought him here. A place Rook could not have conceived of only an hour ago. The ginger haired, long-legged wolf boy stood outside the unimpressive looking aged brick walls. But those walls might as well have been paper-thin to Rook’s keen ears. Moans echoed from within the interior, mingling with scents both sweet and acrid. Rook stared at the door for a long, lingering moment, composing himself and organizing his thoughts, then finally pushed open the door.

Rook stared wide-eyed at the space’s interior. Lush, silk curtains covered the walls, and beautiful, scantily clad men and women lounged and smiled and mingled with others, plainly dressed but with glazed, excited eyes. The room smelled of perfume and anticipation.

“You look lost.”

A grey haired man called out to Rook, leaning against the corner of a bar. Rook moved to him in several long strides.

“I’m looking for someone,“ Rook said.

“Someone specific, or…?“

Rook opened his mouth to respond, then froze as he saw a figure making his way down the stairs. Luck, it seemed, was on Rook’s side. When he and the slave girl had been confined in their cell, there had been one man who had watched them. If anyone knew where she was, it would be him.

The previous night Rook had encountered a drunk, loose lipped guardsman who had been confident of the man’s location that night. Rook had taken the risk that the man would still be in the area. And here he was.

The sickly sweet stank of perfume radiated off the man. Two sparsely women dressed in sparse, silky garments clung to either of his arms, smiling smiles of pure honey. The man was whispering to them, a conspiratorial smile lingering on his face, when he glanced up.

Two pairs of eyes met one another, one human, one bestial. A flicker of recognition flashed across the man’s face, followed quickly by a reaction that puzzled Rook: fear.

The man shook the two women off of his arms, eliciting curled lips, and sharp stares, but the man ignored them and strode over to Rook, jaw clenched.

“So he’s sending a slave now too?! Listen slave, I won’t be threatened! I told him there was nothing I could do about the girl being taken! Sending her petching cellmate won’t intimidate me!”

He? Who was this ‘he’? Rook didn't have the faintest idea, but this man clearly knew where the slave girl was. Better yet, it sounded as if this ‘he’ whomever he was had some sort of an invested interest in the slave girl. From the man’s clammy face and tense hands curled into fists, Rook saw an opportunity.

“This isn’t going to be a problem, as it?” the bartender asked.

Rook shook his head, at the bartender. “This will only take a minute,” Rook said, and leaned towards the guardsman. “Calm down,” Rook said, mustering every ounce of intensity his body could contain. He had to be brief and simple or else the man would see through his bluff.

“Jorah Hercan. I need to find the slave girl,” Rook said in a low, conspiratal voice. “I’ve been asked to check up on her.”

The man squinted at Rook and a frown creased his face, making his head look like a wrinkled plum. “Your master didn’t tell you where she was?”

Thinking quickly, Rook replied. “I haven’t spoken to him directly. I was asked to find her by one of his underlings. He didn’t know, so he told me where to find you.”

A calculated risk. Whoever this ‘he’ was seemed to have enough connections that he could intimidate a guard. So him having underlings seemed to make sense. From the way the man's face flushed like a tomato, Rook could tell his comment had hit the mark. The kelvic decided on a final, slight push.

“If you tell me where she is, I’ll make sure he knows you’ve been cooperative.”

A mysterious battle raged on the man’s face, a mixture of pride, hatred and fear. Finally, he spoke.

“Well she’s in the Lark’s petching Botanical Garden, ain’t she?!”

Rook bowed his head politely, nodded at the bartender, then turned and strode out through the door, ignoring the intrigued, curious, and angry looks that followed him on his way out.

10th Bell
Lark's Floating Botanical Garden, Boardwalk

Today was apparently a day for new experiences. Rook stared with a mixture of wonder and confusion at the massive ship, bursting at the seams with plant life and bobbing gently just off the edge of the dock. Rook had never in his life seen so much nature all in one place. The cries of strange birds tickled the kelvic’s ears. The scent of water and greenery was nearly overwhelming. Around Rook, people swarmed, laughing and pursuing the various stands dotting the length of the boardwalk. Cheerful screams of children and excited jabbering of adults mingled with the distant call of birds. Rook could feel himself shrinking into himself. The kelvic was not a fan of crowds.

At least it was easy to get lost among the crowd. No one gave the kelvic more than a glance. There were countless slaves here, many of them Kelvic in both human and animal form. Rook watched a young girl walk up to a payment booth, fingers twined through the fur of a glazed-eyed black and white dog. She put a pair of coins in the hand of the smiling attendant, and she and her companion quietly stepped onto the gangplank and onto the garden.

Rook ground his teeth quietly. The hawk-eyed gaze of the attendant would be a difficult thing to avoid, and no one would let a slave enter the park on their own.

“But I want to goooooo!”

A shriek pierced the hum of conversation on the boardwalk. Rook turned towards its source. A young woman, with long black hair and sharp brown eyes pulled at the arm of an older, well-dressed man with an impassive stare.

“You know perfectly well that your parents would not approve of you wasting time on such… frivolites.”

“But Hesta and Lorra and Abby are all going! Why can’t I?!”

The man rolled his eyes with a look that betrayed a lifetime of tolerance. “I will not pay for your entrance, Miss.“

“Petch you and your shyke!” the girl shrieked, then turned and stormed into the crowd.

“I will be waiting for your return at the ravalosa,” the man said dryly, and turned away from the girl, stepping back into the crowd.

Following the girl was no difficulty. Her great stomping steps and exaggerated gestures made her glow within the crowd.

Rook caught up with her and gently touched her shoulder. She spun around, body tense and fist raised ready to punch. Rook took a quick step backwards and raised his hands placatingly. “If you let me come with you, I’ll pay for your entry into the floating garden,” Rook told her in a flash of words before she decked him in the middle of the crowd and drew the guard.

The girl quirked an eyebrow and lowered her fist. “Why do you want to help me get in there?” she asked.

“My master went in without me and I have to fetch her,“ Rook lied. “You can't get inside as a slave without your master.”

The eyebrow dropped, followed by a growing grin. “Great! Let’s go!” She grabbed Rook’s hand, much to the kelvic's discomfort, and dragged him towards the entry booth.

“What are you called, slave?” The girl asked as the pair of them moved through the crowd.

“I’m Rook.”

“Hmph. I always wanted a kelvic you know? Daddy said they were too expensive though.”

Rook made a quiet, noncommittal noise.

“I’m Kala,” the girl added.

“Nice to meet you,” Rook replied, careful not to forget his manners around his would-be ticket to the boat.

The pair of them waited in line while Kala chatted about her family’s wealth, and how she and her friends were going to be enrolled in the Institute soon and they really just wanted to have fun while they could but her father was being impossible and wanted her to stick to her studies and it was agonizing and here was why. Rook continued making sympathetic noises until they reached the booth, where he fished out the two gold Mizas and handed them over to the booth attendant. The bored eyed woman didn’t even glance twice at Rook.

“Enjoy your time!” she said to Kala, not even giving Rook a glance. The girl grinned and bolted onto the ship, Rook’s hand still grasped tightly in hers.

Rook stared about him in wonder as the garden opened around them. The area was composed of a dense jungle of trees and exotic plants. Rook stared as a monkey jumped from one tree to another and he had to clinch his teeth before instinct sent him sprinting after it.

“Guess you have to go find your master huh?” said Kala. The girl had spent a long moment staring about in wonder, but now was glancing around quickly, peering behind trees.

Rook nodded to her question.

“I gotta go find my friends! See you later!” the girl replied, and turned from Rook to head deeper into the garden. Rook doubted that, but he didn't say so.

The kelvic waited till the girl was out of sight, then he gently pulled a fragment of cloth from his pocket.

The cloth was the remains of the cloak of the garment Rook had been given by his former master Ruby. Rook was not sentimental; he had not clung to it out of a desire for remembrance. It had a much more practical role, being the last thing the slave girl had touched.

Rook inhaled the garment slowly, allowing his nose to drink in the scent. With the one-of-a-kind smell fresh in his mind, Rook turned and pushed deeper into the park, senses alert and expression intense. He would find the slave girl and end this crazy itching in the back of his mind.

Rook

[Shiress]

Shiress stood stoically in her nudity, as large tears welled and fell from emerald eyes that glared defiantly at her Master. The man all but shook as he stood before his slave, red faced and furious.

"Say it!" Radcliffe Lark screamed inches from Shiress's face as the crop he held rose once more. Pushing djed into the glyph etched into it's handle, he flicked his wrist, and as the leather struck Shiress's side the man's words became hypnotic suggestion as djed spilled from the weapons opposite end. Shiress cried out from the lash, knees going weak, but her eyes never left her master's gaze.

"Sayana is my Master." she said, teeth gritted with pain.

Radcliffe slung the crop away and, with two long strides, wrapped his hand around Shiress's neck, pushing her hard into the wall behind her. Coming close to her face, his words spat droplets of spit into her eyes, fingers tightening their hold. "I will pull this defiance from you with pain, slave!" And, with a hard fist to the side of her face, Shiress hit the floor, her head rebounding off the wooden planks. From a distance, she heard her master's command to take her away, then felt herself being lifted from where she attempted to curl into a ball.

Rough arms slung her, unceremoniously, onto the floor of another room and she heard the door slam behind her. For a long time she lay there, shaking, using every bit of strength she had to hold tormented tears at bay. Giant red welts streaked her ivory skin, some showing dots of crimson, as for near a bell, the slave had withstood her new Master's fury. Blood trickled from her lip from where he had struck her in the face, gently she rubbed a trembling hand across the bruise forming and slowly curled into herself.

How had it come to this?

Again?

Even Sayana hadn't unleashed such pain and torture on her. Elijah Jordan had, though. He had beat her, hit her, starved her, and for the same reason; her gnosis. To be such a blessing bestowed, Bala's mark was nothing short of a curse. Some days earlier, Shiress had become so distraught that she attempted to claw the mark from her leg, but, of course, it remained, albeit covered now with scabbed over scrape marks. So far, she had refused to use her gnosis and despite the fact Radcliffe faced her defiance, and refusal to acknowledge him as her Master, with torture, have her healed, only to torture again, she continued to be relentless in her stubbornness.

Shiress came awake, not remembering going to sleep, as booted footsteps entered into the room. Ungentle arms yanked her from the cold floor, and a deep voice sounded close to her ear, as yet again she was marched stumbling from the room to endure her Master's enchanted weapon once again. "You know he enjoys this, don't you?" a male's voice said, "he wont stop until he gets what he wants."

"Neither will I." Shiress replied, cutting her eyes up to the guard with a weak, recalcitrant smile.

Nearly a bell later, Shiress was thrown back to the floor in the same room, more bloodied and bruised then before. It was a long while before the slave stirred.

The door opening again brought the girl back to the surface of consciousness. "Elias?" her words were not even a whisper, but she knew it was not her warrior. The time between beatings was getting less it seemed. Shiress bit back a sob, heart racing, wondering how much more of this she could take.

[Rook]

Rook might have enjoyed the gardens if he hadn’t been so intent in his search. The place positively seethed with life and activity, and for Rook’s observant eyes and inquisitive personality, there always seemed to be something new to see, or hear, or smell. As Rook passed by a group of tightly clustered ferns, a green lizard raised itself up on its hind legs and let out a raspy hiss. Rook curled his lips, revealing his sharper than human canines, and uttered a low growl, sending the lizard fleeing to the safety of the ferns.

The floating gardens were quite large. Rook scrutinized the signs leading between the areas with his slightly-better-than-illiterate reading skills, squinting to make out the words. This way the Aviary. That way the Lookout. Around him, people chattered and laughed and swarmed, making it difficult for the wolf boy to concentrate on his task. There were so many strange scents swirling about him. How could he possibly pinpoint the scent of the slave woman? Rook briefly considered taking to his wolf form to heighten his sense of smell, but at the moment there were too many people swarming about. He didn’t want to draw attention to himself, so he would only change if he could do it without anyone noticing. Deciding to simply pick a direction, Rook headed towards where the sign indicated the Lookout.

At center of the ship loomed a strange giant stone structure that reached to the sky. An earthen ramp lead to the top of the tower, and dozens of cheerful ravokians filed up and down ascending to the top of the tower and descending back down again. Rook casually sniffed around the area, but he still couldn’t catch the woman’s scent. Rook had little interest in the top of the tower, unlikely as it was that he could spot the woman from a distance, but as he moved forward Rook’s ears metaphorically perked. Underneath the tower a black pillar, marked with the same black sun burned on Rook’s flesh, flickered gently red from the light of candles lit around it. Rook eyed four black jars, heavy with coins. The scent of sage stung Rook’s nose and burned at his eyes. Rook rubbed the tears from the corners of his eyes and blinked away the sting.

Had Rook’s eyes still been bleary, he might have missed it. As it was, he had just managed to blink away the tears, when a person appeared, as if by magic. The man, paying Rook no mind, lifted up the jar most heavy with coins, then replaced it with a second, empty jar. He bowed his head towards the black sun respectfully, then vanished into the darkness past the flickering light.

Puzzled, Rook moved forward into the covered area. The sound of footsteps echoed above him, oddly muffled, as if the room were underwater. Something Rook couldn’t identify made Rook’s hair stand on end. It was like a soundless voice, warning him of… something. Rook skirted around the strange structure like it might bite him, then moved towards the back of the room where the man had vanished. The area was empty. Only a cold stone wall remained. Intrigued, Rook gently ran his hands along the cool stone. His fingers touched something rough against the smooth surface. Gently Rook pushed against the bump and felt something click. To Rook’s shock, a chunk of stone opened in the floor, revealing a dim pathway descending downwards. Rook only hesitated for a moment. The unsettling presence at Rook’s back, as well as his need to find the woman pressed him forward.

The passage downwards was lit by an array of brightly lit lanterns. The contrast between the vibrant greenery from above and the cold, impersonal wooden innards of the ship was like night and day. Rook proceeded forward cautiously, breathing rapidly through his nose to catch the scents mingling about the ships innards. From the human scents crisscrossing the area, Rook could tell that this area was not high traffic. Still, Rook proceeded carefully, ears perked. If he got caught, he might not have another chance.

The wooden bowels of the ship creaked, masking Rook’s footsteps. Several times his keen ears caught the sound of feet pattering against the hull, and he ducked behind rigging or storage boxes until the footsteps passed.

What am I doing? Rook wondered, dreamlike as he picked his way through the the tight wooden corridors. Rook had no illusions on how dangerous what he was doing was. He was not only disobeying his master, but also breaking into a staff only area of a resort. He could be killed for this. At the very least, if his master found out she would punish him severely. So why?

What was it about that slave woman that drew him so? Rook had been convinced that he needed to ask her for confirmation about the things she had spoken of, of freedom, of no creature being under the boot of another. But now Rook wasn’t so sure. That initial logical reason had morphed into something else; a furious, growling need to find that woman, regardless of reason. It forced Rook onwards. He couldn’t have fought it if he wanted to. If that meant risking terrible punishment, maybe even death, so be it. The risk paled to the need.

Rook paused behind a stack of boxes to refresh himself on the scent. And as his nose inhaled the scent, something in his mind clicked. Somewhere in these maze like corridors, he could smell her. Heart leaping for a reason the wolf boy didn’t know, he made haste, following the scent.

Cautiously, Rook peered into an empty room. The sight of the place made him shiver. Blood peppered the room like raindrops. A single bloody whip lay propped against the wall. Rook moved a single finger downward and scooped a droplet of blood onto his finger and sniffed it. The blood was the slave girl’s.

Rook shivered, suddenly full of anxiety. She was hurt. Where was she? The room was empty. Struggling to calm himself, Rook inhaled again. The scent of blood left an acrid taste in the back of Rook’s throat. But it was fresh. Fresh enough to follow.

In his haste, Rook was nearly caught twice. Only sheer reflex sent him diving for a hiding place each time. Finally he stood before a single door, a simple wooden storage room dotted with blood. Rook took a deep breath and pushed his way inside.

“Elias?”

Rook was appalled. The slave lay in the corner of the room, naked and covered in dozens of bruises and lacerations. The stink of blood and pain covered the room like a shroud. Who would do this to a slave? Why?! A beaten slave reduced efficiency! There was no reason! Furious for a reason Rook couldn’t fully explain to himself, the wolf boy rushed to her side. Remembering how the woman had been ashamed to reveal her body to others, Rook ripped his cloak off his back and draped it over her body. She didn’t seem very coherent. Rook touched the woman’s cheek and felt her clammy, cool skin.

“Thief,” Rook said, suddenly realizing he didn’t know her name. “What happened?” She was hurt. Badly. What could he do? A long red welt ran down the woman’s shoulder and towards her arm, peppered with the red of blood and gently oozing. Rook leaned forward and gently licked the fleck of blood off of her.

Rook

[Shiress]

The feel of the fabric being draped across her didn't register to the slave, so much was her anticipation of being pulled from the floor to face her master again, and the voice that followed the kind gesture seemed only a dream of a fond memory. The healer had come, Shiress surmised, the only one in these days of captivity that had shown her a modicum of kindness, but no -something was vaguely coming to the forefront of confusion; the voice had called her "thief".

The sensation sliding across her shoulder pulled Shiress fully awake. Opening her eyes, she turned her head and, slowly, youthful features swam into view. Cautiously, the girl pulled herself up to a sitting position, tugging the cloak tighter, close to her chest, studying the boys face, not fully sure if she was seeing who she thought she was seeing. One hand came free of the cloak and pushed back chestnut locks from her eyes and still she stared at that familiar face, not saying a word, lest the boy might vanish, and she would then come awake from this dream.

Slowly, deliberately, Shiress reached out a hand toward Rook's arm, almost as if the Kelvic was in his wolf form and she feared he may bite if she moved too quickly. As the slaves fingertips brushed the boy's warm flesh, Shiress gasped, emerald eyes jerking to his gold in pure astonishment. "Rook?"she whispered, eyes wide, "how.." Shiress's eyes roamed the room as if to remind herself of where she was, then fell forward, wrapping her arms around the boy like he was a long lost friend, "how are you here?" she whispered, tears brimming in her eyes.

Self consciousness pricking her, Shiress released the young man, and pulled her cloak tighter, suddenly aware of her appearance and the weakness she must surely exude. "My mast..." she swallowed the word, then continued, "Radcliffe Lark, he's a slave owner, and he brought me here." Shoulder's slumping, Shiress again scanned the room with vacant eyes, "He doesn't like it when I don't obey."

Despite it all, the girl gave the boy a soft, reassuring smile. "Don't worry, a healer will come soon and she will heal me." Shiress didn't mention that the Lark would have her healed, just to beat her more, but still, the smile lingered, and the slave reached for Rook's hand, squeezing it for a long time. The girl's mind was a whirlwind of torture--yet again. In fact, her current state was more mental pain, rather than a physical pain. Radcliffe's magical endeavors to claim the slave's loyalty was trounced by the claws of Sayana's craft, long sunk into the flesh of Shiress's will. For long bell's the Lark had attempted control, only leaving his failure to ignite an uncontrolled fury that unleashed upon Shiress, but still, the girl stood defiant and intransigent, unwilling to douse what Elias had so diligently ignited within her.

Unwilling to forget...him

In silence, Shiress's head lolled, her face falling downward, as thoughts of her soldier, her savior, beat against the confines of her mind. Raising her eyes, she stared long ticks at the Kelvic, before speaking, tears again flooding in eyes that had all but given up hope "Why have you come here?"

[Rook]

The woman stared at Rook groggily at first, but as her eyes widened her vibrant green gaze collided with Rook’s amber eyes. Her fingers brushed against Rook’s arm gently, a tender touch. The feeling heightened as the woman threw her arms around Rook’s shoulders. The wolf boy shuddered, confused. He didn’t know what a kind touch meant, but he suddenly craved it, and he hugged her back fiercely. The kelvic met the woman’s emerald gaze as steadily as his shaking conscious would allow him. He felt his heart leap into his throat as she spoke his name. She remembered him! One half of him felt elated, but the other half seemed matter of fact: of course she remembered him. It only made sense. But why? Why did it make sense? His own master had cast him aside with hardly a thought. Why would this woman remember him? Particularly after all she’d been through, as revealed by the wounds carved into her flesh?

Rook pushed his wandering questions to the back of his mind. This was not the time. Instead, he focused on the woman’s question.

“I found a hidden door that led down into the ship,” Rook said. “On the top of the ship, in the tower. I followed your scent. I remembered it because the cloak I gave you smelled like you.”

In explanation, Rook pulled out the scrap of cloth that he had kept close to his heart. “I kept it because I remembered you,” Rook said.

The kelvic felt a small kick of frustration in his gut. He knew that he wasn’t answering the question that the woman had asked, but how could he explain himself if he didn’t fully understand why he was here in the first place? Words were not his strong point, particularly not when they were tied in with these strange tangled emotions that he couldn’t think of how to voice.

She pulled away from him suddenly and Rook felt his heart plummet from his throat to his stomach, but he kept his face passive despite his hammering heart. His ears pricked at the name Lark. Rook knew that name. He had heard his Master mumble it in frustration at least once.

Rook’s eyebrows creased in concern as the woman spoke of her master not liking her not obeying. He could see how such a strong-willed woman such as she might be hurt into obedience. “But, to do this…“ Rook whined softly. “Why have you let it go so far? Is what he asks so horrible?”

The little scraps of pride and arrogance Rook had built up from his time with Ruby were stripped from him in his master’s presence. For some reason, this woman before him represented the last dying speck of Rook’s defiance. He couldn’t imagine defying his master to the extent this woman had. Pain didn’t bother Rook much, but having his body marred to the point where he couldn’t function? What could make the woman let it go so far?

When the woman spoke of the healer, Rook felt a little better. “When the healer comes, will you do what your master asks you?” Rook asked. “He will only keep hurting you if you keep defying him.”

When the woman’s head fell forward into her hands Rook rushed to her side, hovering inches from her anxiously, a soft whine catching in his throat. When she looked at him, eyes full of tears and sorrow, Rook’s ears rang at her words.

“Why have you come here?”

Why? What a question. If he knew would he even be here? It was as if his coming here was an attempt to answer that question. Why did you feel you must come here? What drives you find her? Why?

“I-I don’t know,” Rook said. His voice trembled with emotions incomprehensible to him.

He reached out to touch the woman’s shoulder. “I thought that I wanted to ask you again about what you told me back in that cell. That everyone should be free. But that’s not it.” He shook his head helplessly. “You’re in my head and you won’t leave.”

The shaking of his head intensified. “I don’t even know your name…“

Rook

[Shiress]

Freedom

Shiress pulled away from Rook, drawing into herself, eyes downcast. Standing, the girl took a stumbling step, paused for the world to quit spinning, then made her way to a wooden bench and situated herself in the corner where wood met with the opposite wall. Wrapping the cloak taut around her, almost as if it were a barrier between her and pain, she pulled her knees to her chest, and sank her head down, world around her, Rook included, suddenly going black.

Freedom. That was all the slave heard, and that was all that it had taken for her to withdraw into herself -into her safe place. If there was such a place now.

Like existing behind a glass wall, Shiress could see freedom, life unchained, painless...happy. She could see the colors of it, the feel of it, could lose herself in the want of it, but was always out of reach of obtaining it. Shiress remembered the conversation that Rook had mentioned and she could also remember believing what she had told him, but now, now was different - Shiress had lost that hope. She had been betrayed by a man she had thought she might have loved. Or so, she had talked herself into thinking herself betrayed, or might have been betrayed.

Little did the slave know, though, that it was her master that had planted that crafted and malevolent seed. He had known the truth, of course, had known that it had been Elias that was betrayed, his bold and heroic plans sundered by none other than himself. He had often smiled to himself at the thought.

Somehow the man had known about Elias's plan with Shiress and had used it, twisted it, marred it, and had planted it deep within the confines of his new slave's mind with his magecraft. The blackness had taken root quickly, spreading its lies like a diseased vine. Doubt, mistrust, betrayal, abandonment; It hadn't taken much for the quake within her to begin, shattering such a weak, fledgling hope and confidence that had been born of what...debt? love? lust? petching?

A promise?

'That man has a life, he has no time for you, a mere slave'. Did you honestly believe that someone like Elias Caldera would' he had hesitated then, searching for the appropriate word to use. Shiress knew that he had deliberately not used 'love' as if that should have been a given, but he had continued with, 'want..someone like you? A Ravokian Ebonstryfe Soldier, a hardened warrior of Rhysol, settling for a slave? All of a sudden wanting and desiring...a slave? Risk his life for a slave?' Every time he had called Shiress slave, the word had been sent forth on a crafted shaft, barbed with djed, hitting its mark like a fist blow against her consciousness. Radcliffe had slipped around her, coming in from behind, his craft soothing, gentle, as it had brushed her mind, oh so subtly.

Leaning into her, he had slid his hands down the front of her shift, cupping each breast almost seductively, but his touch hardened to the point that Shiress had screamed in pain, but the whisper by her ear was much more gentle, as his hypnosis taunted her, djed leaking from his poisoned words 'but you were nothing more than a piece of ass, isn't that right?'

Radcliffe Lark had beat her then.

Shiress's head shot up with a gasp like coming out of a deep dream, emerald eyes finding the Kelvic's in a flood of tears and confusion "That freedom was a long time ago" she said, battling to dominate the barrage of emotion suddenly exploding within herself, anger often the victor " I did have hope to be free, even a dream of it then, Rook, but," she smiled and there was no humor in it "Elias....I....someone was betrayed and still I sit in chains." at a sudden loss for words Shiress fell quiet, eyes locked on the Kelvic in a pleading stare, but for what she wanted from the boy, even she didn't know, but it was there, nonetheless. At length her eyes fell away, defeated.

"I'm not one to talk of such things anymore." she added, dejectedly "You need to find your answers elsewhere, my friend" Head falling back against the stone wall, eyes focusing on the rooftop, she said...

"My name is Shiress"

slave

[Rook]

Shiress

Something about her name made Rook’s heart want to both sing and cry at once.

Rook could all but see the scars crisscrossing Shiress’ heart, juxtaposed with the wounds of her flesh. An elaborate weave of pain, heartbreak, and helplessness. Rook had followed her as she moved to the bench against the wall, cloak wrapped around her as if it could protect her from the outside. The kelvic hovered nearby as the woman drew into herself. When she finally emerged gasping, Rook flinched backwards, though he was quick to bridge the small distance between them.

The words she spoke baffled the wolf boy, as did her demeanor. Rook understood pain very well. He knew how it could eat at you, break you down and turn you into a shadow of a person. Rook had been born into pain. That long year of suffering in the kelvic research institute had shaped Rook into something hateful and suspicious, and only the singularly long year under Ruby’s care had molded him into a creature who could function in society. But despite knowing these things, Rook almost couldn’t believe the words coming from Shiress’ mouth.

Shiress had been Rook’s light. As Jessica shaped the wolf boy into her ideal slave, Rook had remembered the slave woman and her assertions. She had spoken with absolute authority. Utter confidence. There had been no trace of doubt. And a tiny little seed of hope had sprouted and budded inside Rook’s heart. A dream of a world where he answered to no one except those he wished to answer to. Where his only authority was his own. It was a daring dream, but Rook craved it now. It was a hunger that ate at him. He had been sure Shiress would have the next step, for even as he craved freedom he also hungered for guidance.

And yet, here she was, claiming to have been betrayed, claiming to know of freedom no longer. Asking him to look elsewhere for the answers he knew he could only find with her.

Rook’s disbelief slowly faded, replaced by an emotion the kelvic was mostly unfamiliar with. It started with a deep, bubbling indignation that slowly solidified, hardened, and sharpened to a razor point. Rook felt his lips curl, and without thought revealed the sharp, wolf-like points of his canines.

“I risked everything to come here!” Rook snarled. “Everything! I tracked you! I followed your scent! I snuck into this boat past patrols! I used every ounce of my cleverness to come here, and you tell me to go elsewhere?! What happened to you?! Where is the proud slave who told me to never stop fighting?!”

Rook’s indignity, his anger, threatened to swallow him. His hands trembled with emotion. He took Shiress by the head and pulled her head up, and turned her to look at him. His copper eyes burned with conviction. "You are not allowed to give up!” Rook all but howled. “I won’t let you!”

Something other than emotion was stirring in Rook, and he had no context to place it. It was as if a maelstrom of invisible light, curled tightly around Rook light a hardened bud, gradually began to bloom and unfurl. The petals of invisible light, slowly, gently, began to stretch their way out towards Shiress. The harshness with which Rook spoke was contradictory to gentleness with which those petals extended towards Shiress. They were hesitant, permissive, as if asking permission before proceeding. They caressed at Shiress’ shoulder, probing politely as if searching for something. Rook didn’t know what they were. He had no control of them. All he knew was that they felt right.

Rook

[Shiress]

The words, as well as the tone in which they were spoken, that suddenly elicited from the Kelvic both shocked and confused the slave. Green eyes flew to Rook, anger brimming, but the look on the boys face quieted any response, and she had to look away from that shame.

Rook was right; he had taken a great risk to find her, but why he had done such a foolhardy thing, Shiress couldn't fathom. Had her words, her faith, honestly made such an impact on the young wolf, so much so that he would risk so much just to find her so that she might elaborate? Well, he was barking up the wrong tree, or slave, as it were, for that fight had been lost to Radcliffe Lark.

Rook's hands suddenly pressed against either side of Shiress's head, undeniably forcing her green eyes up to meet his golden, his words piercing through her anger like a freshly honed blade, straight into her heart. Shiress was so tired of crying, so tired of sorrow, but in that instant both settled on her like a bolder. Tears streamed down her face as she bravely held Rooks gaze, lips parting to speak, but then closed suddenly, green eyes going wide.

Something was happening to Rook, coming off of him. She saw nothing, but a sudden invitation grew in her core, beckoning her, and she could sense strings of energy coming toward her, from the boy, tapping against her skin like gentle touches from a butterflies wing. There was no fear, but a sudden will, or wanting, a need for her own acceptance suddenly overcame Shiress.

And she yielded to that feeling.

As soon as she did so, she felt ropes of her own energy reaching for Rook's, seeking the other's end, entangling themselves, embracing themselves together. Beneath this play of energies, Shiress's free hand slid forward, linking her fingers though the Kelvic's, squeezing his hand, just before the tendrils went rigid, linking Kelvic and human.

Shiress let out an involuntary gasp, as every emotion she was feeling suddenly double and some she wasn't feeling suddenly appeared. It was nearly too much, but she knew it was Rook she was feeling. Letting her head fall gently forward, she rested her forehead against the Kelvic's. Squeezing her eyes shut, the slave knew that she would love this boy for the rest of her life. Slowly, drawing in a breath, still not lifting her head, she whispered, breathlessly.

"We just bonded, didn't we?"

[Rook]

Those invisible strands of white light gently linked with Shiress, as though they were always meant to be there. Because they were always meant to be there. Her fingers intertwined with his seemed a physical manifestation of those weaves of light being bound together. Thousands of beautiful brightly colored lights exploded somewhere in the back of Rook’s head. Rook had no words to explain it. No context for it to make any sense to him. Suddenly he could feel the might of her confusion and fascination, mingling with that of his own wonder. This. Rook couldn’t have ever imagined this.

Maybe somewhere in the back of his head, Rook had wondered about bonding. His restlessness certainly drove him into the streets often enough, stalking up and down the canals like a cat on the prowl for a mouse, his ears and nose honed for an invisible scent and sound that he was certain he would recognize the moment he caught it. He was aware on a rational level of what a bond was and more or less how it worked but he hadn’t really ever considered directly pursuing one, not seriously. It had seemed to him a thing that would happen to other people, not him. But then again, he wondered dreamily, wasn’t that what all this had been? His relentless pursuit of tracking down Shiress. Had it all been for this? He didn’t really even have to question it. Of course that was what this had been for.

In this moment, Rook felt more right then he ever had before.

Shiress’ words barely registered. The kelvic felt her soft forehead press gently against his. Rook abandoned all decor in his emotion. Rook flung his arms around Shiress’ neck, surges of delight and pure unadulterated joy surging through their bond and into Shiress so she could feel the emotion as if it were her own.

“Yes!” Rook cried out. He shouted the word with his heart too, unable to contain the happiness threatening to consume him. They were bonded. Bonded. And he had been bound to the most remarkable and wonderful person he had ever met. There were no words for Rook to explain his joy. But fortunately, there didn’t have to be.

Rook

[Shiress]

Shiress melted into Rook's embrace, holding him as tight as he held her. She could have remained that way for an eternity; it was what was meant to be. It was, indeed -right.

"Well, isn't that just the sweetest..." came a voice from the doorway.

Shiress's body jerked in the Kelvic's arms, fear surging through her like a lightening strike, raw and dominate.

The figure lifted a heafty arm, motioning dismissively "No, no, don't rush off on my account."

The healer motioned for the Kelvic to sit and Shiress urged Rook down beside her on the bench. Hazel, as Shiress knew her, a twice Rak'keli marked healer, as round as she was tall, and just as sassy, waddled confidently into the room. "Good thing those guards ran off with your Master to see to some commotion or other, else you may have been overheard" she gave Rook a long, appraising look, before swinging her gaze to Shiress, hands propping on amble hips. "Well, I'm guessing you two wasn't 'specting this, eh?" she bobbed her head, reaching for the slave to examine the many areas that needed to be healed. Same was with my husband when we first bonded, came out of nowhere." the healer cackled, eyes drifting away momentarily as she lost herself in memory "The old bear nearly gave me heart failure when I first came up on him." she added, shaking her head with a smile, then sobered with a hard look at Shiress. "Guess I wont be seeing as much of you now that ya bonded."

The healer must have seen the incomprehension in Shiress, for she clucked in annoyance before explaining further. "You probably already feel this here Kelvic's emotions?" she asked. Shiress nodded. Looking to Rook, she asked "And you probably felt fear from Shiress when I entered? Well that's not the only thing you two are going to be feeling and sharing." She paused, letting that sink in before giving Shiress a knowing look. "Your bondmate can sense your pain, my dear, and it's going to take him a while to be able to make out what's his and what's yours."

The woman's deft hands probed at Shiress's chest, pressing hard against a cracked collarbone. Shiress let out a loud gasp of pain, then her eyes went wide, jaw dropping as if it had come unhinged, as she stared in amazement at Rook's reaction. Mouth working soundlessly, she glanced from Rook, to the healer, then back to Rook. "You felt that?" Shaking her head, she regarded the healer with a new found understanding. "I see what you mean." Shiress was no longer the only one that would suffer under the hands of Radcliffe Lark. The thought made her shudder.

Hazel nodded "Your aches and pains, hunger, emotions, even your whereabouts isn't just your own anymore, my dear." she swept her aged eyes over Rook.""And neither are yours, young Kelvic." Shiress's eyebrows shot skyward. "He will know where I am?" she asked, shocked. Hazel grinned "He will sense it, yes, and you will sense his." she said, straightening. "It'll take ya both some time to get it right, but it'll come eventually." she clapped her hands together, smiling at Shiress. "Ya feel better, my dear?"

Lost in the wonderment of her knew found knowledge, the slave hadnt even noticed that her many injuries no longer hurt. "I do, thank you." Hazel turned her gaze on Rook. "Her master will return soon, Son, and you don't need to be here when he does. I think ya got some more time, as I seen him marching off the gardens with a guard at each hip, but he saw me, too, and knows..." she twisted her eyes toward Shiress without moving her head "...or thinks he will have another go at his slaves defiance."

Sighing, the old healer shoved a hand in her satchel and pulled out a small bag, stained at the bottom with grease spots, shoving it toward Rook. "See she eats, then see yourself off the gardens." She handed Shiress a waterskin, turned, and disappeared through the doorway, leaving the girl with a load of worry on her shoulders. Rook could sense her pain! Wrapping her brain around that thought was a difficult task, believing it, though, was absolute -she had witnessed it and the thought of causing Rook pain...

It was unbearable.

In that moment, Shiress knew that she couldn't give up hope for Elias to come to her. She couldn't stop fighting. Lifting her emerald gaze to Rook, Shiress smiled, as her arms wrapped around his shoulders. She embraced her bondmate, obsorbing the feel of him, before whispering.

"I wont give up"