Lifelines (Kamalia and Satu, closed)

[Gromhir]

36th Day of Winter, 509 AV Continued from here. The chosen of Syna and Leth fall from the sky into the sea. Through this, they are washed ashore and born again into a land that they once knew. They find themselves washed up on the beaches of the mizaharian lands, ready to start their lives anew. But not everything that is washed ashore is a chosen one of the gods. Some things seem forgotten by the gods and suffer at the hands of man. As the foam and waves crashed against the soft muran sands, a lone figure crawled up the beach. Exhaustion and pain wracked the formerly powerful body. The pristine white coat blighted with bloody welds. It collapsed on the shore, dropping the small item it was carrying in the sand. The poor creature had no idea of what was yet to come. But the day had not started well. -------------------- Wrapped up under the sheets of her bed, the eighth daughter of Nokomis Timandre would sleep blissfully. Her dreams carried her away from her sweet Mura and to a land all her own. A land of peace and harmony where she could exist without worry and care. Her violet eyes shut off from this world and staring into Nysel’s realm. Her partner would curl up in front of the door. His vigil never complete until Syna’s rays blessed the balustrades of balcony. He might sleep but it would be light, should anything try to threaten the young Timandre. This night was different. Nysel refused to allow her in to her chosen paradise. Gromhir heard her quiet moans, fearing the worst, the Ivaski moved towards her. Kamalia struggled against a world he could not defend her from. The massive creature curled up on the bed next to her, hoping that the warmth of his body would lead her home to him again. The Kelvic did not sleep that night. He watched, patiently waiting for the moment she awoke from her troubles. If he had only known what she had saw then. It was not until Syna’s golden rays finally hit the Konti Wizard’s pale skin that she awoke to his huge form. As her eyes finally opened, she seemed groggy, more so than usual. Kamalia placed a delicate hand on the massive paw of her bondmate and gave a melancholy smile. For a few moments, both were content to simple look at the other. But as Kamalia returned to this realm fully, her eyes widened in what Gromhir could only describe as fear. “I want you to take something with you today.” As she turned away from him to reach for something, his body broke down into thousands of pinpricks of light. They reformed into the body of a man who hastily wrapped something around his waist. “You did not sleep well, Kamalia,” it was almost a question but not quite. “Would you like me to tell them you are not to be disturbed?” His words seemed to fall on deaf ears as she turned back to him with something clutched in her hands. “I want you to take this, Gromhir,” there was firmness in her tone that overpowered the worry he knew she felt. He looked down at what she held. Wrapped in a sheath was a creation of delicate and deadly beauty. The carved whalebone Suvai of the Konti was a weapon few other races would wield willingly. “Please, keep yourself guarded.” The weapon was poisonous to all over races on Mizahar. It would slow those it wounded; weaken them so that the end would come all the swifter. Gromhir placed his hand on hers for a moment. “I cannot use such a thing,” Gromhir spoke slowly, it was clear he did not understand or did not wish to. “How will you keep yourself safe?” he hated the thought of using a weapon and the thought of leaving Kamalia without a way to defend herself. His words however seemed to bring a small amount of hurt to her eyes. “I have my magicks,” she replied, forcing the Suvai into his hands. “I am safe in the care of my sisters.” Gromhir knew there was no way of convincing her to keep it. If she wished for him to have it then he would carry it with him. “Pray be safe in your hunt.” -------------------- Little did he know how right she was at that moment. The Ivaski heaved himself to his feet once more. He had to make it back to Mura. Kamalia may be in danger. She would need her Suvai if she were. Grasping it between his powerful jaws, he pulled himself up the beach. He could not put his loft forepaw to the ground. It sent pain coursing up through him. How had this happened? Why had this happened? Gromhir continued on. The questions did not matter, he had to find Kamalia. -------------------- It was such a strange request, especially coming from a Konti. They were more used to netting vast loads of fish on the wide-open sea. Now they were waiting patiently for a fish to swim into a net that was very different. Even the fish was different. It was a lot smarter than what they were first bargaining for or a lot luckier. Caliel preferred to think it was the second one. It made it feel more like the open ocean that way. That was where he belonged at least, not up in these white trees waiting for something to happen. Still, they’d set the bait and it was just a matter of time. It wasn’t that they minded. She’d offered a high reward for what she wanted done and Caliel and the lads could not refuse such a pretty face. The way she moved her hips when she walked, the way she spoke in that soft, seductive voice and the trail of her finger over his bare chest. She spoke of so much more promise than just Miza but he wasn’t going to admit that to his men though. They had the bait ready at least. The tracks all led here and they were all waiting in specific areas for him. This was their last chance should they fail however. If they did not bag this fish, then they would have wasted a day in port for nothing than false promises. He could not fail his sultry white lady. He would do what she asked and then claim his prize. It was simple and easy, like she had said. For everything he appeared, the creature was still dumb. They could probably take him in a fight if need be. There were enough of them to overpower him. All he’d have to do was give the word. But the lady wanted it done subtly. Having his men come back with bloodied faces and clothes was not the most covert way of doing things. He spotted movement. It was what made him such a good fisherman after all. He could see the schools of fish moving in the water, or their shadows at least before anyone else. He was never wrong and sea and he was not wrong now. It did make him wonder what was so special about this man that she wanted him taken out of the picture. But she was a Konti and she probably knew better than he did. Why did he have to keep reminding himself that it was for the money and the woman? He’d never had that problem before. Then again, he’d never been asked to murder someone before either. The man moved with some sort of animalistic grace in his movements. His eyes darting left and right like he was reading some sort of text off the ground. Every now and again, he’d stop, breathe deeply and look around before continuing. Still, it seemed he had fallen for the bait. Closer and closer, inch by inch the noose was closing. He stood right underneath Caliel’s position at one point. He thought it was over then but he kept going right into the spot he wanted. It could not have been more perfect. The net had heavy stones tired to it. It was dropped from the trees with an almighty noise and hit the ground hard. The animal man looked up too late. He shifted to move but it merely sealed his fate further. One stone crashed into his head and the man collapsed as the others bounced like pinballs off his now limp body. It was a perfectly executed catch. A cheer rose up and they moved to bind him as the woman had told him to. A leather collar tied tight by rope to his hands and feet. The perfect gift. -------------------- His entire body blazed like fire. He had pushed himself beyond his limits already just to swim down shore to here. Even the slightest twitch he put his body through caused a tongue of pain to lash across him like a whip. He could feel every cut and bruise, the dull pain along his side, the throbbing of his head. The world swam before him as he lost his grip on this reality once more. -------------------- “Wake up!” Gromhir slowly pulled his eyes open to brightness of Syna’s glow. He reeled backwards and fell. There was a roar in his ears as the sounds of the world around him slowly returned to him. At first he thought it to be waves, but after a few moments it became clear it was laughter, harsh laughter at his expense. Underneath the human racket he could hear waves crashing against rocks. Where was he? The world shift around him as two men pulled him to his feet. They smelled of the salty sea air, sailors. The net! He was suddenly aware of where he was. Below him stood a sheer cliff face, the waters below churning violent as they slammed against the rocks. The sea was angry. Was it at him? What reason did it have to be angry with him? He looked after its daughters; he did his duty to the best of his ability. Had he failed? Kamalia! He couldn’t sense her. Where was she? He wasn’t near Mura, he hoped her sisters were taking care of her. Maybe he should have asked Satu to protect Kamalia while he was away? What if the sailors had come for her as well? He barred his teeth in a snarl and tried to break free. His hands and feet were bound. A collar wrapped tight around his neck. He was trapped! Panic set in. Memories flooded his mind for a moment, memories he had forgotten for so long. No, he had to stay calm. There was a way to escape surely. There had to be. Kamalia, he had to find her. He had to warn her. He focused his mind for as long as he could, trying to reach out to her across the bond they shared. “Wait! I remember you!” spoke up one of the sailors. “Yeah! That white wolf! Oh, my friend, you have angered her so. Whatever you did to your beautiful lady friend, she wants you dead!” She? Kamalia? Why would she want him dead? She had warned him to be careful today and she had been right. She HAD been right! Gromhir’s heart sank. Had he not been good enough? Did she not trust him? Surely not. She could not want him dead. He could not think like that. “You human ball of filth!” Gromhir spat at the sailor that spoke. A deep growl leaving his throat. He heard a laugh from the sailors again in reply. There was no warning to what happened next. Falling was a strange sensation, especially when bound so you cannot move. He rolled and twisted sickeningly in the air, the waves below rushing up to him dangerously fast. The air shattered with a slap as the Kelvic hit the water, side first. Any air remaining in his lungs quickly forced its way out of his body with the force of the impact. Stunned, he sank like the stones tied to his bindings. Pleased that their job had been done, the sailors left Gromhir and the cliff to return to Mura. Their part in this tale was over. Numb from everything that had occurred today, Gromhir was unsure how to escape the ropes. He hoped Kamalia was safe. Maybe she would find her suvai on his body when it was washed ashore. The suvai! Of course! It had been hidden inside his breeches. If he could just reach the handle… Curling himself up, he knew he didn’t have much time. The slackened rope allowed him to reach the weapon. Carefully, he cut the ropes binding him but he was falling deeper and deeper. He could feel the pressure of the deep slowly closing on him as he struggled. His arm and side were sore from the landing. Free from his bonds, he tore off the collar. His body burst into lights. If Ivaski were not strong swimmers naturally, he would surely not have made it to shore. -------------------- The dull thud of his heart woke him from his involuntary slumber. He was in human form once more. Lights danced before his eyes. Kamalia! Her Suvai! He reached around for it but stopped. A slender figure draped in white robes stood before him. A small, three pronged object twirled in her hand. Gromhir tried to focus on her face. “…Kamalia?”

[Kamalia Timandre]

There are those who think and those who dream. And there are those who dreamed who experienced heartrending marvels that thinkers could only dream to imagine. Sometimes, the most wondrous thing about dreams was that fleeting, transitory moment, when you find yourself perched between slumber and wakefulness, and you could not tell the difference between reality and fantasy—and when just for that one moment, you felt with your entire heart and soul that the dream was true, and the dream actually happened. The sheer heartrending beauty and surreal emotions mingled interchangeably in a mirage, where the blurs between consciousness and forgetfulness reach out like binds for one’s emotions. Sweetness and bitterness. Pain and longing. All of these emotions would shape into the form of one’s greatest wish. But before you could savor that feeling, a moment before you realize that what you see and what you feel was only a fleeting dream, reality would snap shut and clench tightly around you like a painful embrace. You were only dreaming. All those resplendent fantasies you dreamed about were only a poignant delusion. Sometimes, we fervently yearn to prolong the dream to make it all the sweeter— for loveliest were the things that surely must die, short-lived as a kiss, ephemeral as butterflies, fleeting as the fall of vian-blossoms. For a while, for a split second, that was what Gromhir felt and saw. The pulchritudinous visage of his konti bondmate, Kamalia Timandre, was elusive as song, fey as twilight, surreal as a passing dream. It was the first image that touched his mind, the first name that graced his lips after the seemingly endless vistas of sapphire sea and crimson suffering. The image was a false one, however, conjured only by his desire to find Kamalia waiting for him with open arms. As his azure eyes finally regained clarity, Gromhir would find that the exquisite visage before her in white gossamer raiment was indeed ethereally beautiful, but this beauty was one without familiarity, one without warmth. All that glinted upon those tempestuous blue eyes was another sort of desire. It was the gleeful desire of a madwoman reveling over an unnamed triumph, over an unseen victory, as if she were relishing carrying out an endeavor which the kelvic himself could not comprehend. The raw strength which was housed within the male’s body was more than apparent to her appraising eyes, as every bruise and rough formation that weaved its way around the masculine figure would attest to. Normally, it was something that even the crafty and practical suvaimaiden would strive to avoid, but her hatred simmered and brewed too strong. Violence was not out of range in the attrition that palpitated her convictions that day, for the wheezing lungs and the bloodshot sclera thoroughly gave his weakened state away. The kelvic was obviously wary of her at first, but the moment that he called her "Kamalia", a frighteningly fervent desire to both lunge and laugh at the young man coursed through her entire body. The animal-boy just dared to call her by that wanton witch’s name! Fury lashed through the konti’s eyes, followed quickly by a flicker of indecision. Her cool, placid mask was back in place so quickly that Gromhir, had he not detected this, would have wondered if he’d imagined her initial response. A burst of anger eked its way out from within; she had devised this plot methodically, casting layers upon layers of plans, yet the enmity that slipped unbidden towards her heart had not prepared her for this. Here it was—this man, the representation of that wench’s happiness, still alive and running full tilt for home. Her hands were free of constraint of the moment, but how they itched to draw her gleaming blade of whalebone to rend and tear his flesh apart. But there was a better way. Given the true complexities which had braced her for every unthinkable scenario, there was not a tinge of panic or chaotic upheaval to be found inside her. A healthy course of cool confidence ran through her mind instead, a subtle plan which operated in a way not unlike that of a grandmaster of board games. While her machinations were not always executed to perfection, she nonetheless had the ability to back up a botched plan with another one. Gromhir was vulnerable, and his fate depended upon the konti now. The lady’s movements were satin and gossamer; her sugar-white hair draped her slender stature, all the way to the small of her back. She was tall, carrying the grace and lithe of a dancer and dressed in raiment that left her arms bare and hung low over her lush breasts. She knelt beside the unclothed male, and slithered slender fingers across his chiseled chest, before her alabaster hand began to stroke his face. “I am not Kamalia,” she said softly, sensually. The fleeting notes of vanilla and vian blossoms lingered in the air, its fragrance sultry and aphrodisiacal. “You must forget Kamalia. Forget the Timandre family, and forget the Konti Isle.” She lifted the suvai with her other hand, showing the familiar, glinting weapon to Gromhir. “She had asked me to slay you. She saw no value in holding you any longer, no value in your living,” she half-whispered, her touch was cold. “But… but I simply cannot take your life away—or anyone’s, for that matter. I hate to see blood spilt needlessly. She had taken your love for granted. Forget Kamalia. Forget the Timandre sisters. Come with me and I shall give you warmth and healing.” She rose, movements sinuous and fluid, and offered a hand to the injured male. -------- Blithely unaware that her future was being shaped on the shores of Vaska, beneath the surface of the Silver Lake, Kamalia Timandre drifted in arches as she floated over a flourishing bed of freshwater mussels. Sunlight filtered through the waters, turning the lake into a silvery dreamlike world. Her white hair floated about her like nimbus, and her arms laced with glittering, iridescent silver patterns seemed to waver with the movement of the water. Gills, small and shaped like thunderbolts, slashed the sides of her neck, and her garments were caught in the water, slowly echoing the motion. Today, young konti women gathered corals and harvested pearls. As daughters of Laviku, the konti cultivated pearl farms, both in saltwater and the Silver Lake, looking after several beds of pearl-producing mollusks, some of which boasted exquisite specimens just waiting to be plucked. Pearl harvesting was among Kamalia’s favorite activities when she was just a little more than an infant, and memories of her childhood enfolded her in a tender embrace. From time to time, the girl would find small and simple treasures on the lake bed— hand mirrors, silver forks and shiny trinkets, which she collected with a childlike fascination. The colorful scenery of white sands, sedimentary rocks and different varieties of fish seemed to sing to her in a chorus of entrancing bubbles, beckoning her to play with them. There, in the gleaming paradise of White Isle’s fresh water beds, the konti swam in perfect harmony within the realms of Laviku, at peace with the creatures that inhabited his placid kingdoms. Spotting a large, open mouthed specimen resting on the silver bedspread, her velvet eyes beheld a very large and exquisite silver ball, lying serenely on the mussel’s boughs. She gently drove her lithe body with fluctuating speed towards the shell, a gleaming knife ready to pry the pearlescent orb off its regal nacre. Yet as the sparkling pearl gleamed into her deep violet eyes, the smile on her face dropped like a glint of rain from a bud, her heart suddenly grasping the flickering of the arcane chains that connected her to her sentient half. Her seer sensitivities were gripped by a terrifying conviction that something was wrong. Very wrong. Not knowing what it was that clenched her heart so tightly, she called out to the other pearl divers in a series of clicks and whistles, before whirling upwards and swimming towards the muted halo of the sun.

[Satu]

The beach was tranquil even amid the crashing waves and the crying gulls. Satu’s inner calm was not disturbed by the other Konti women also enjoying the day. The rhythm of the waves crashing in and floating out filled her spirit with Laviku’s strong pulse and she felt buoyed by his strength. She walked the long stretch of beach until she found a pleasant spot and dropped her belongs to the sand. The grains were dry and loose and the afternoon sun reflected a sparkling light, while still holding a hint of midday warmth. A playful wind tossed her white hair about her face and shoulders, and whipped through her clothes as she spread her blanket neatly on the light colored sand. Directly onto the blanket went her things: towel, slippers, and the small package of refreshments she had brought along. Removing her outer cloak, she attempted to fold it, but the fabric only billowed out in the persistent wind and in the end, she conceded to its sporadic will and rolled the cloak into a ball.

Soon her body would be sweating with exertion, but the Konti decided to keep the over-sweater on for now, at least until after the practice warm-up. A slight chill in the air made small beads of skin rise along Satu’s arms, but slowly the sun would warm her; as if its rays could kiss warmth into the suvai-fighter’s scaled skin.

Swinging her arms wide, she loosened her shoulders with circular movements, and then followed with a series of hip rotations to open the joints. Lowering herself down upon the sand, Satu then sat for a round of leg stretches. The first delicious pull of muscles during warm-ups always brought a joyful smile to the Konti’s face, as she tried to extend further each session to perfect her craft. The warm up consisted of a series of proper stretches for the arms, legs and spine, each segment designated for a specific muscle group. Satu took her time in each posture. To a Konti, with their longer lifespan, there was always time to do something well without rush.

Once warmed, Satu pulled the knotted sweater over her head and tossed it aside, not quite reaching the clean blanket. Underneath, she wore a white tunic, tied with a pink beaded sash. The white, calf length trousers she wore had bits of sand already clinging to the backs of her legs and cuffs and she did not bother to brush them off. It was now time to work.

Rounded, feminine footprints left depressions in the sand as Satu left her things and moved closer to the packed sand near the surf. She was determined to practice her duel wield today, not only to refine her technique but also to impress Suvai Mistress Nitvin. Satu had not forgotten the horrible, heavy feeling of her mentor’s disappointment and she was still trying to calm her own inner guilt as well. Which was why she was here today, to prove to her teacher that… what? Satu didn’t honestly know. Kamalia had needed her help and she would gladly give it again wholeheartedly if there was need. Could that be so wrong? These thoughts interrupted her tranquil mood and Satu frowned, pushing them aside. The press of emotions from that day had clouded her mind and left her confused about her own feelings of the situation. Shaking her head, Satu wanted the focus that weapons training provided her and she smiled to herself, ready to provide the needed distraction.

She was here to practice her duel wield, an incredibly difficult skill, especially as she was still only a beginner. The amount of work it took to master it was great, but she was driven to perfect her craft. To move the two blades simultaneously, but with different outcomes of movements and speeds, took practice and focus. It was Art. The Dance of the Suvai was beautiful and deadly in it self, but adding the dual wield, it became something much more.

Determined, Satu started with the basics, returning to her weapons forms. She would walk herself through, with time and focus. Choosing the Lonely Winter Engagement Stance, she stood, head bowed and arms down and crossed before her. The suvai, twin blades of gleaming white, were an extension of her arms and shoulders. She stood, conscious of what the Stance implied; ‘…though Icy winter Foes descend down upon you; it is always Beneficial to be still Within.’

Her right foot slid behind her in the sand as it lengthened and she stood in a half-lunge position. Slowly her arms rose, still crossed. Then she brought them to shoulder level reaching out from her, the right in front of her body and the left behind. The suvai held at ready. Carefully, she moved through the rest of the forms, her feet and arms soaring with purpose. Then back one step, back another step, the arms changing positions and directions. She moved her feet slowly and gracefully, and moved the suvai separately in their paths. A flash of sunlight hit one blade and it gleamed magically as it twirled in her wrist, then she brought the other around in reverse.

Beginning to move faster, her arms swung around as the weapons changed position, the strong wrists slashing and blocking, turning and twisting. The blades twirled, first one and then the other. But she wanted them to move simultaneously, and she stepped and turned to strike with both blades, wind milling her arms… And then whhissshh, the left blade went flying into the moist sand, only to land with a splash in a small pool of water.

Forcefully blowing hair away from her face in annoyance, Satu walked to retrieve the blade, footprints leaving deep impressions in the wet sand. Wiping the blade and her fingers free of muddy silt, the suvai fighter tried again. This time the Konti attempted a leap with twirling blades. She stepped, turned, and wind milled her arms again for the strike. And then… dropped the left blade. A curse in Kontinesse escaped her lips, but the force of it was lost in the melodic and magical sound of the word

Satu bent to pick up the blade in the now pooling sand and wiped its length along her white pants with more aggression than needed to clean the blade. Taking a breath, she centered herself and quickly rotated her body to the left, spinning her arms and the suvai with them. First one and then the other, until finally combining them into the dual movements she had been striving for. And this time, she managed to hold on. A happy giddiness filled her with delight! And she moved to another stance…

After the lengthy practice session, Satu sat on the sand, arms hugging her long legs. Her white pants were covered in the wiped silt from the stray suvais, and a fine sheen of sand stuck to the delicately, scaled pattern on her skin. Her paleness and the lightness of the sand combined into a shimmering vision of the classic Konti woman on the beach. But she was not at peace, even though she was pleased with her practice. Uneasiness had begun to tinkle her senses, so she packed her belongings to return home quickly.

[Gromhir]

Matalla knew little of Kelvic. In fact, none truly knew much about him and his past especially. The path that Gromhir had followed had been one of trials and hardship with little time to rest in between. Each time he had rested, it had been brought to abrupt end both before and now. The Ivaski saw his life repeating the same cycle, time and again. This was just the cycle restarting again. He would endure it as he always had.

The world swam before him in blurs of colour. The dark blue of the ocean depths. The pale blue of the open skies dotted by clouds. The golden glow of the sand as Syna reflected off its surface. The browns and grey of the cliffs surrounding the beach. Then finally the small white blur of the figure before him. He hoped it would be Kamalia to find him, to save him from this torment but maybe that was not to be? He could feel it like a hot brand on his heart. A stab of anger in the creature before him. Only for a fleeting moment but it was there. But his mind was a mess. He did not know up from down right now. He only knew the emotion for a brief second, at who or what it was directed he could not say.

The world came into focus rather sharply as her hand danced over his chest. He flinched. His entire body was tender and sore through to his core. All that had happened weighed heavily on his mind, on his soul. Had his time here on the isle truly made so weak? Had his former endurance waned in the safety of the isle despite his attempts to keep himself on the edge, to keep himself in shape? Of everything, his left arm hurt to move most of all. It was not broken but it was definitely sprained beyond belief. Maybe in the fall? He could not say but it hurt to think. His head throbbed.

Matalla was clearly not Kamalia. Beautiful, maybe so, but not Kamalia. There was something different about this Konti. She was not relaxed. Something had her riled up, agitated. But in this state he could tell so little about her. It was his duty to protect the Konti as a whole, to understand them and to serve. Although he had an overriding duty to his bondmate above all, he was still one of the iconic guardians of the White Isle and it was his nature to protect them. So why was this one suffering from so much unrest?

Forget Kamalia? Forget his bondmate? Could he do such a thing even if he wanted to? He had searched all his life to find her and now he had to let her go? He may only be just short of three years old but that was much of his life. After finding Kamalia, the hole that had developed had been filled completely and she had taught him a lot. He had made friends, found a place he could co-exist with the rest of Mizahar. Everything just seemed to click in to place. Now he was just supposed to forget her, forget what he knew, what he was. He wasn’t sure he could do such a thing and even so, if he remained here, she would surely find out.

Why would she want him dead? Why was this Konti speaking these words? If Kamalia wanted him dead then why did she not just do it himself? Why did she not just send him away? He would have done as she asked. Surely she new that, if that was what she wanted. But if she wanted such a thing, why would she give him a means to defend himself? This made no sense to him. She had not quite been herself recently? Maybe she had been planning this for weeks now?

He looked up to the Konti, the coldness of her hands soothing some of the pain he felt. Gromhir’s eyes were full of pain. Pain partly from his condition and partly from her words. Why would Kamalia want such a thing as to kill him? Was it the magical addiction setting in? Or was there truly something sinister behind her that he had seen? He swore he would not let this happen again. Why had Nature led him to this? He had followed the path laid out for him, had he not? The Kelvic groaned, the questions weighing heavily on his mind and soul.

Kamalia would not do this. She was not capable of doing this. No, she had been sincere this morning. Why did he doubt her? The pain in his eyes seemed to wash away like the waves of the very beach he lay on. A determination filled his eyes and burned fiercely within them despite his vulnerable physical state. He had endured through worse and now would be no different. “Do not,” his breathing was shallow and even speaking was painful. “Try to. Deceive me. Kamalia would never.”

Gromhir closed his eyes as pain surged through him a moment. But he would not succumb to it. He would not accept that truth unless he spoke to Kamalia. Surely this Konti knew that? He was Kamalia’s bondmate. He would not die; he would not leave unless the orders came from her mouth and her mouth alone.

[Kamalia Timandre]

Mura, the Pearl of the White Isle, shimmered in the highsun, gleaming like an opal teardrop upon a quilt of silver. Here, the konti played, worked, dreamed, schemed, and occasionally, loved. Here, the daughters of Avalis and Laviku, seers and healers and dreamers, basked and lived in a bottled dream. It was a dream that slowly slipped through their fingers like fine silver sands. Sand through an hourglass, steady flow of grit, forming a mountain shape, trickling away moments until the fall of the last grain. This was the passage of time through the eyes of a High Oracle of Avalis, one who could see the past, present and future. Through the porthole of divination, time slowly trickled down, falling, drifting, streaming as the Konti teetered on a doorsill between dream and darkness, between starlight and shadows, between dawn and dusk. Whether or not the Isle was ready to be spat from the dream and plunge into an ocean of wakefulness, the High Oracle was not sure. That hourglass, which there she saw, grain by grain, drop by drop, from the upper to the under-glass do sands of time trickle down, like goddess tears encrystalled. There was still time, before it stills, sand frozen on the bottom. She would turn the hourglass over, new moments to tick, streaming from top once again. Yet there she stood, alone in this task, and the dream dimmed and dimmed at every tick. Even as the future gleamed bright as sunshine, the High Oracle saw an umbrage falling upon Mura, and there was no way stopping it. The hourglass and the dream shall soon be shattered. Shahal Timandre stood at the heart of the Augury Halls, a vast gleaming single-room spire that resembled a wentletrap shell made of pearlescent material, the divination chamber of the Timandre family. The spiraling walls and floor looked as if they were carved from a giant pearl or nacre, and several pools and fountains of vision water sang in a melodic murmur. Dominating the room was a raised platform upon which sat a massive black pearl. Shahal the Farseeer stood before the scrying pearl as she communed with her goddess. The seer stood fully six feet, a towering woman by the standards of the konti, with silvery radiance that lingered about her like captured starlight. Hair the color of spun silver, streaked with sun-gold strands, spilled from the corona of her head to her long and graceful legs. Thick pale lashes framed her eyes that seemed to have swallowed a violet twilight. Time did not manifest its passing upon her impossibly beautiful visage, for she had the fresh pulchritude of a young maiden, yet all of Konti Isle knew that the High Priestess of Avalis was more than two centuries old. She was among the most powerful diviners in the Konti Isle, and in the full favor of her goddess. Shahal was in deep contemplation and silent communication with her goddess, until a white-robed figure burst into the halls, shattering the High Oracle’s reverie. “Kamalia, that little witch has gone, too far!”fumed Ordona Su’akadva, a priestess of Avalis and a sinspeaker, quivering with wrath as she stomped into the divination halls. “What enterprises did my granddaughter design this time?” Grandmother Shahal asked with a placid smile, emphasizing the relationship. A single silver eyebrow rose to warn the lesser seer to tread carefully. “Mischief, irreverence and sacrilege. Your granddaughter has been spuriously misbehaving like an insolent varmint, ” stormed Ordona, her ample bosom rose and fell indignantly beneath the white, silver-trimmed robes of a priestess. “Just the other day, at the Suvai Pavilion, when Matalla Shivkani took a break and decided to imbibe from her waterskin, Kamalia froze the liquid midway within her throat with foul magicks!” Shahal sighed. Kamalia had spent only a few days at the Suvai Pavillion, yet she was a perpetrator of nearly a dozen pranks. She knew well that Kamalia disliked suvai fighting, but the High Priestess knew that she would need to learn the ways of the suvai if she were to survive in the near future. “ Yesterday,” Ordona continued, “ at the morning service, your granddaughter had the marvelous idea to slap Matalla’s hindquarters with a wind-whip while she was kowtowing before the Altar of the Seer Mother.” Shahal sighed again. Matalla Shivkani belonged to a prominent family that, although notorious for lacking patience and their ineptitude for fortune-telling, had contributed greatly to the city's trade and commerce. If Kamalia had truly gone too far, she might soon see clan rivalries in the Taviasa. “And on that same day,” Ordona added, “during the bowl-scrying session, Matalla’s hair caught the flames from the nearby candlelight. My visions had shown me that the witch commanded the winds in the direction of Matalla Shivkani as the poor girl concentrated, bent over her bowl." Another sigh escaped from the Grandmother's lips. “Kamalia, of course, snuffed it out—with the appropriate element, if I might add,” Ordona said finally. There was a short interval of silence, before the High Oracle smiled again. “Has my granddaughter been amply chastised for her crimes?” “Amply chastised, yes,” Ordona replied dryly. “But she does not stop, and these crimes are not a trifling matter. We all know that magic fractured her mind. She is unhinged. We must send her away from the Konti Isle before her madness and foul sorceries spell harm to our people!” Shahal’s smile died like spent candlelight, and her eyes glinted dangerously. “Should that time approach, Avalis will reveal to me and show me what to do. See that you do not presume to instruct me, Su’akadva.” Ordona froze as it came to her how badly she had misbehaved. The priestess fervently genuflected. “May I implore your forgiveness, High Oracle, and the absolution of the Seer Goddess,” she said, before whispering a frenzied prayer to Avalis. Shahal smiled again, wryly this time.“How is Satu‘s mastery with the suvai? And Kamalia?” “Satu is doing admirably well,” Ordona said calmly now, and her choice of words more gentle. “With the suvai, she moves like a dancer of the tides, graceful as the waves of the ocean. She shows an astonishing aptitude for undersea fighting and predicting her opponent’s movements. I must say she is the most promising practitioners of the suvai blade, not unlike your granddaughter Marishka when she was young. Kamalia, on the other hand,” Ordona’s voice lowered,” is incredulously ignorant with the basic stances and parries of the suvai, and she wears out too easily. She disgracefully knows nothing about the intricate protocols and rules of underwater fighting, far below the tolerable standards of a suvai apprentice.” “It is your responsibility, and Suvaimistress Valmara’s, to fill in these gaps,” Shahal reminded her gently yet coldly, eyeing Ordona with a wintry smile. “With strict disciplinary actions and faultless training regimen, Kamalia will not have time for capricious mischief.” Ordona stiffened, yet there was no way she could parry that. “So be it. I shall notify the Suvaimistress to instruct Kamalia better in suvai.” Grandmother Shahal nodded. “Keep me informed of Satu the Heartseer and my granddaughter’s activities.” Ordona lifted an eyebrow, puzzled as to why the matriarch of the Timandre family concerned herself with the progress of the heartseer, but she knew better than to ask. Again she genuflected, and left the tower noiselessly. Alone once again, Shahal faced the massive black pearl. On it she saw Satu the Heartseer, with strings attached to her every joint, as if she were a puppeteer’s marionette, seemingly lifeless. Beside her, Kamalia stared back at her grandmother, smiling, yet with a smile that had no compassion, no warmth. Her violet eyes vacuous, and the dark coils of magic spiraled around her slender form. ---------- Something flashed in the konti's eyes at the kelvic's defiant faith in his bondmate. The coolness of her gait shook with fury momentarily, as she retracted her open hand away, a cheated, arrogant look creasing her features with uneasiness. The things she had seen, the feelings she had felt, dating all the way back to that meeting in the Suvai Pavilion had made her ready for this particular situation, that much is assured. Her eruptive feelings, however, threatened to blot out the sun from her mind and botch the order of things she had lined up for him. There was something so easy, so temptingly warm about the man that she wanted to cut and spill, and the thought swam around her mind like a school of fishes. "The natural order... Remember the natural order," she thought as she shook off her desire to kill him. The sad smile that was in her lips earlier returned, and so did her composure. It was enough to allow her to approach him slowly, one hand raised in the air in a gesture of calm, the other primed and readied Kamalia’s suvai and severe his neck. "It is true, unfortunately," she whispered in a soothing voice, her eyes devolving into a ballad of acted sadness. "She had such a... cold and furtive look in her that scared even me," a laugh burst through her mind, which brought a split-second smile into her mouth before she continued. "She said that she didn't want a burden, an obstacle. The words of her mouth painted you a hindrance to her magical studies, a baggage in her life. Her heart belongs to magic, and it showed her true colors. She asked me to get rid of you because you would not allow her to progress further with her magic. But I could not bring myself to hurt you. I would never hurt you." She had caught Kamalia's addiction to magic the moment their fates entwined in the training grounds. The exquisite shroud of power which left her drunk, it was all evident in the lost bewilderment in her face and the irregular beating of her heart. She had seen it as clear as day in her mind, all those times in the past that she struggled to fit her addiction in. to control it, to put it to rest. She had tried, and she had failed. The nefarious suvai practitioner had seen it all. The laps stopped a few feet away from the struggling man, during which the maiden began to unwind her partly-transparent shoals, letting them be cast off to be taken away by the strong winds by the sea. Her skin started to reveal itself more and more to the kelvic, for even a man with his eyes shut could not have resisted the sight to be seen. The silver scales that wrapped her shimmered in the rays of Syna's gentle light, and despite her art, what was supposed to be soft appeared just that way. A few more exertions of effort and all her coverings had been brought to sway, with all of the Konti's imperious glory free to be perused and, seemingly, touched. Letting both hands fall to her sides before beginning to move closer once more, the subtlety of the actresses' fake dilemma began to reach out more and more, with the proximity finally dying with a gentle touch to his shoulder. "Let go of her for she has abandoned you. Let go of your memories with her. Come with me, and I shall take all your heartache away." It was all so strangely emotional; all of what he was and what Kamalia was was laid down before her like a buffet table, with his fears and insecurities serving as the appetizer. But it was also, quite literally, a physical desire, involving his blood, his guts, his life. It was to be the main course. She might not be able to crush her rival, yet she would be sure to crush her heart. ---------- Kamalia wafted onto the shore, her wet clothes clenching her skin tightly like a wrap of ice on a shard of steel. The wind blew down on her smoothly, yet she felt little of the chill; her heart was pounding at her chest, making the feeling of tenseness and worry even more pronounced. Her face could barely hide the confusing feelings which her intuition was telling her. It was as if there was something calling out to her, pulling her towards an unknown destination. It didn't even require her to think, for her feet seemed to know better where to go. All Kamalia could do was wrap her alabaster hands around her body, letting the breeze and the sun do the work of drying her as she went along. The absence, the deep static in her mind made her perceptions of her surroundings blurred and hazy. The trek seemed to take forever and a day, but she had no idea how much time had truly passed. Unblinking eyes of muted velvet stared down upon her traveling feet, though the content of her sight alternated between emptiness and reality with each step. Crushing loneliness, a mysterious burden with a metaphorical hammer using her heart for a nail, the feeling of danger and a need to be somewhere else. These were what guided her to the Laviku's doorsteps at the ends of Mura's shores. When she came to her senses and snapped out of her trance, the wide expanse of the sea greeted her, filling her lungs with salty air and the sound of repetitive waves. She searched inside her for a reason to her momentary delusion. It wasn't a vision, so it couldn't have possibly been from Mother Avalis. No, it was more like feeling the pain of another person while he was relating a sad story or a tragic event. It reached out, rather than poured out of her own constraints. Her eyes widened in terror. Gromhir. It was Gromhir who's calling her. Violet irises frantically searched the surrounding area for anything that can lead her to her beleaguered bondmate, the crashing of the sea against the shore paling in magnitude to the depth of her worry. Her teeth clenched together when she found nothing in the landscape. Feeling her knees buckle and weaken, the need to cry began to manifest in her dejected face, with only the gulls flying overhead there to hear her sadness, yet she held the tears back. Like a quick bolt of lightning, this disappeared the moment her peripheral vision caught the image of a familiar friend. Renewed strength propelled her forward in a sprint, the details surrounding the girl on the sand growing more and more familiar with every forced breath. Finally she crashed into the white, finding herself face to face with her one-time savior, Satu. "Listen, Satu. I need. Your help," she breathlessly declared.

[Satu]

The walk back along the wind sweep beach held none of the reflective qualities of the outgoing trip to the makeshift practice area. Thoughts crowded her mind regarding the wrongness she felt within, and it frustrated her that she could not decipher the direction from which the feeling came. She looked to the sky for answers, “Avails, I need direction…,” she thought.

And lo, in the haze of distance, Satu saw a figure approaching, it would be long before it reached her even though they traveled towards one another. The sense of urgency filled her once more and she found herself hurrying forward in the slowing sand. They moved towards one another, like two edges of the surf coming together at peculiar angles.

It was a girl. Satu could now see the long, silver hair shimmering in the haze. Nearing, the details became clearer. It was… it was…, the Suvaifighter frowned. It looked to be… Kamalia? What was she doing here? And the subtle warning sensations she had felt earlier now chimed more loudly as Kamalia rushed towards her, asking for help.

Satu’s hands reached out, gently holding the young Timandre’s forearms as she searched the violet eyes before answering. Where was the source of unease? It clouded around her friend and sent its reaching tendrils into Satu’s own Heart. They had not spoken since the incident at the Pavilion, but the HeartSeer felt the need to offer aid once more. She could not say ‘no’ to Kamalia Timandre.

“Of course, of course I will help you.” She gave the girl a reassuring smile, though she was unsure herself, “I am here for you…” How could the Konti be turned away? Even if the worry coming off her was distressing Satu’s psyche and undermining her relatively good day, she could not do it. Even though a heaviness and a grief churned more deeply inward.

“But you must tell me… what has happened?” And where is Gromhir, your Ivaski, in your time of need? Satu thought, but was too polite to say. A gull wheeled overhead, demanding scraps of food, as it called out in its powerful, barking voice.

[Gromhir]

The bare Konti form was a sight to behold. No man could resist the pure fey and ethereal beauties that were the daughters of Avalis. The sirens of Mura had enchanted men from all corners of Mizahar and while many were good in nature, there were some who were not as graced with good nature. Through a misfortunate series of events, one such Konti had been twisted such that she sought to use her natural charms and graces to enchant a male to do her wishes. Any human would have been driven insane by the charms and be putty in Matalla’s delicate and dextrous hands.

But, Gromhir was no human. The natural form was simply that to the Kelvic. The subtle and beautiful lines of the Konti were utterly lost on the Kelvic who cares little for clothing or lack of it. It was not the form in front of him that caused Gromhir to doubt himself, to doubt his bondmate. It was the vile words that flowed from her mouth. They pierced his heart like a burning blade. How could this Konti make this up? It seemed to ring so true. It played on the insecurities he had always felt. He had never had a reason to distrust Konti before. Should he start now?

Kamalia’s magic was an addiction, a drug that he knew she could not get enough off. He’d felt it through their bond before. The pleasure that wracked her body as she whispered words in a language he didn’t understand. The bliss and ecstasy that reverberated through her veins like liquid fire. In some twisted way, he envied what spell casting did to his bondmate. It made her feel powerful and pleasured; she seemed to enjoy the whisper’s company. Had she ever been like that with him? Had she ever felt the same way with him? He thought she had but what if he had been wrong?

It dawned on him that what this Konti spoke could have been true. Ever as she placed a hand on his shoulder, she could see the determination, the steadfast resolve began to wane in his cerulean eyes. Everything seemed to fit the more he thought about it. She had been more distant the past few days, she had not been as talkative when they were alone, less willing to share what was on her mind and he’d had trouble getting through to her. Was this the reason why? Had she been plotting his downfall all this time?

He had never liked magic. But that story was not one for now; it was one he would not share. Did Kamalia really have such a problem with him trying to protect her from herself? Or had he failed to protect her at all? Had the whispers corrupted her completely and she saw him as nothing now? The very thought pained him more than anything he had felt today. He could endure more physical punishment than what he had received today but knowing that Kamalia saw him as nothing, as expendable maybe he was better off drowning after all.

There was no hiding such a heartfelt pain from Matalla, she could see it well up in his eyes and a single tear escaped the eyes of the Kelvic. It scolded him like a hot brand on his flesh. He had never thought Kamalia capable of such cruelty. She had welcomed him into her house, provided him a home, food. But most of all, she had made him whole. She had been the thing he was searching for, made him complete. For the first time, everything had felt right with his existence. Had she really thrown it all away in the name of magic? To be come more powerful? She was ambitious, he knew that much but would she leave him behind because of it?

How could she give up on such a bond? How could he give up on such a bond? The fire leapt back up again, burning brightly in his eyes once more. “If she is lost…” He struggled to even speak yet pushed himself into a sitting position. “Then I… should help her.” There was a flash, a reflection of Syna crossing his eyes. Something didn’t so much replace the fire as move in front of it. The blue eyes took on something more feral. The thought of Kamalia in danger had rekindled the furnace inside the Kelvic. Canine teeth in the man’s mouth elongated slightly. He had been led by Nature to Kamalia. It was his duty, his joy to protect her, even from herself.

The image of beauty before him forgotten, he focused solely on Kamalia. The man pulled himself to his feet, something akin to a drunk. He stumbled, completely unsteady but unwilling to give in. Gromhir ignored Matalla and once more set out in the vague direction of Mura. His making little progress but he would try, regardless of the pain. He had to try.

---

Caliel watched the two figures. His trusty harpoon held firmly in his right hand. He waited in position as instructed. The time was not now. They were still too far away, still not near enough. She had been right though. If all went well, his men would have their treasures and he would have his and maybe peruse these ones later as well. Despite such beauty, they had a job to do. They could appreciate such stunning figures later and teach them to appreciate him and his men. After all, they would be seeing a lot more of each other. Caliel licked his lips, this would be delicious.

[Alice]

Mura Experience Award Please update your CS accordingly! Experience Points Awarded: Gromhir - 2 pts Swimming, 2 pts Acrobatics Kamalia - 2 pts Running, 1 pt Swimming, 1 pt Rhetoric Satu - 2 pts Suvai Fighting, 2 pts Dual Wield, 1 pt Acrobatics Lore Awarded: Gromhir - Lore of Resisting Seduction, Nearly Drowning, Liberation from Chains Kamalia - Lore of Feeling Pain through the Bond Satu - Lore of Helping a Friend, Desperation Comments: A thrilling read! The plot is really interesting, and Satu, your training descriptions are as marvelous as ever. Picking up and continuing this thread is still possible.