Closed Her Distressing Voice (Kalesse)

[Gideon]

5th of Winter, 512 AV A damp light from the mid-morning sun breached the common room of the Lady's Lap with a yawning stretch of encouraging warmth, dispensing the evening's chill to the far corners of mud brick walls with nary a struggle to be found. It's hazy touch poured serenely over a disheveled array of tables and chairs whose tenancies lie mostly vacant, emptied from the morning crowd whom, not a bell past, had filled the air with hackneyed chatter on the day's upcoming events. Now only the sounds of hollow ceramics could be heard through the beige curtain leading to the backroom, Sabaf's staff working diligently to clean the mess that had remained, already preparing for the steady stream of the afternoon crowd. The scent of baked onion bread still wafted lazily in the air without purpose, accented by the bittersweet aroma of hops and barley from the small provisions of beer that had been served. Its lingering caress allowed a calming ambiance to creep over the desolate breadth of the room. Gideon had arrived early in the morning, which was to say that he had been up all night handling a lucrative contract with a keen interest before stumbling tiredly back to the inn for some rest. Given his choice of seating, the sellsword had picked a more private corner of the establishment to purposefully shun the company of others, nerves given the chance to unwind from near constriction. A smattering of bruises 'mercifully' lined the clothed parts of his flesh where a struggle had been evident, though there was a thin red line of dried blood just above his brow where he'd received a small scratch. It would have hardly been worth noticing if it wasn't for the man's afflicted disposition, hand coiled around the mug of beer he'd been unwilling to let go of until they poured him "just one more glass" with the sort of sad chip on his shoulder that left the staff begrudgingly acquiescent. But Gideon was the sort of patron that erred on the side of politeness when he wasn't feeling so subdued, Sabaf even taking the time to ask amidst his daily rituals if there was anything he could do for his client. The sellsword had kindly declined with the same grieved smile he always offered, shaking his head while muttering a few words of thanks to the proprietor whom seemed genuinely concerned for his business. The human felt a certain admiration towards Sabaf for rising above his people's inclination of showing conceit towards what they viewed to be the lesser races, adopting a shroud of modesty that was so aberrant from common practice. It allowed Gideon to feel a sense of belonging in a place he admittedly felt alien to, which was perhaps the Eypharian's true intention all along. He was running a business, after all. But it was difficult to tell. Sliding the mug back to his moist lips once more, the tepid amber liquid splashed past his tongue and down his throat almost immediately. After a few cups of anything, a drink could easily lose its savor, but Gideon wasn't the sort to pretend he was in it for the taste. By his third cup his muscles had relaxed to perfection along with his head, which was beginning to feel heavy upon his shoulders. The desire to be social again was slowly bubbling within him however, stubbled chin turning over his muscled shoulder towards the desertion of the room. Sighing despondently for no one to hear, Gideon lurched for a moment before sliding carefully up to his feet, the soreness in his muscles little more than a passing thought he would likely bemoan later. Reaching into a jingling pouch, he produced a few coins for the trouble of the meal and extra cups of refreshment, setting it down upon the table with a soft rattle that rolled into a small, sun-touched pile. He found that although his body was relaxed, his mind still craved a bit of intellectual reciprocity. It was so often a thankless deed he committed, gold hardly fulfilling the gap of social equanimity his heart desired. Even those he did business with thought the sellsword as detached from his sanity as when he was working, though that was perhaps more his own fault than anything. Showing softness with men whose hearts were black with corruption and craved the treacherous kiss of power did not feed his own reputation well. Still, a disquieted mind was left wanting.

[Kalesse]

No matter how fast her beautiful gray mare ran, Haizea couldn’t outrun the emotions that her rider was trying to abandon out among the sands. Anhatep was quickly growing closer, the walls looming and expanding to seemingly fill the sky before her while Kalesse’s already serious expression darkened with the addition of a frown; those walls were something that she had though to have left behind this morning, saying her goodbyes to the citizens within before heading back to her tribe.

She thought it’d be another year before she would here amongst the luxury and the perfumes again. The young Chaktawe woman had been torn on the subject of leaving the city behind to return to her tribe as they continued on their way around the desert. For one, Gideon wasn’t going to rejoin her and the rest of the Tatsuwaat. Though she didn’t quite know exactly how she felt about that little detail, she did know that she didn’t like gloom that had settled over her once they had parted ways.

There was also Chiaja. Kalesse and the Ethaefal had been parting ways every Fall season since they were both girls (or as close to a girl as Chiaja could get), so the pang of sadness that rang in her heart at the end of Autumn wasn’t unfamiliar, but neither did that lessen the sorrow. Twice abandoned, by old friends and knew, Kalesse had cut the goodbyes short, gathered her things and left Ahnatep.

Her tribe never strayed far once they settled for an extended period; the Tatsuwaat had been less than a day's ride from the city, but Kalesse took her time. She walked Haizea when she could have flew over the sand, sitting and eating her meals rather than choking something down in the saddle. There had to be a reason for her slow pace, but Kalesse went out of her way not to try and puzzle out her procrastination.

It took her three days to reach the area where her tribe had settled. Before the sun reached its apex on the third day, Kalesse caught sight of the swarm of tents silhouetted against the sky and adjusted her course towards it, urging Haizea into a gallop as she approached. Despite what she had left behind, Kalesse couldn’t stop the smile from cracking her frown and lighting her face; She had missed her family more than she would really admit to anyone and couldn’t wait to hear her mothers tinkling laugh, feel her fathers strong arms envelop her and welcome her home.

By the time her tribe’s camp loomed large enough for those inky black eyes to pick out details, Kalesse knew there was something wrong. Even out in the desert, there was a rhythm to the life there, the sounds of the sparse plants and the hearty animals becoming a comforting background noise after awhile. But it was quiet now, far too quiet. The air should have been rattling with the laughter of children, the calls of adults and the clang and rustle of gear being moved here and there as everyone prepared to pack up and continue on their way.

With her heart in her throat, Kalesse had slowed her mare and entered the all too silent camp…

The Jackal that lingered to the left of the gate stepped forward as if to stop Kalesse as she cantered towards the opened arch, the Chaktawe snapped from her reverie at the movement. Her face drawn with pain, black eyes were narrowed at the guard before he had made it halfway towards her.

“I was just here not a handful of days ago. You didn’t stop me then, why stop me now?” The words snapped from her lips like a whip, halting the Jackal as he immediately recognized the ornery young woman. Trying to keep her face expressionless and neutral, Kalesse inclined her head, her own way of excusing her rudeness, and continued through the gates. Whether he remembered her or not, the Jackal had clearly seen something in the young woman’s face that stopped him from giving her the hard time she surely deserved.

As soon as she was within the city, Kalesse felt the air sucked from her lungs. If the sound of the place wasn’t bad enough, the smell only added to the discomfort. Unable to be at ease with the walls so close and so high, Kalesse always felt the tension creep up her back and into her neck whenever she was out and about in Anhatep; living in the open desert made it hard to adjust to city life, the sounds, the smells, the people.

The people. They were by far the words, always looking at her with scorn and treating her as if she were the gunk left on their shoe. Keeping her chin up and her gaze focused above the heads of the crowd that swarmed within the city, Kalesse marched Haizea right on through, ignoring the indignant shouts and cries as those individuals didn’t move out of her way quickly enough.

Finding Gideon wasn’t hard. He was almost exactly where she had left him days prior. Without slowing her roll, Kalesse barged into the Lady’s Lap, her flickering gaze quickly finding and resting upon the man in the far corner. A charcoal brow raised in surprise at Gideons slumped posture, crumpled expression and the mug that he nursed on the table before him.

The soft riding shoes that also allowed her to walk easily through the sand made but a whisper on the floor of the common room as Kalesse quickly approached and took her seat across from her companion, settling down into the chair as if neither of them had already said their goodbyes, intending not to see the other for at least some time.

“What are you having?” A nod towards the mug, a hand extended in the wordless gesture of one who expected the drink to be handed over, no questions asked. Keeping her eyes downcast, Kalesse attempted to keep the emotions from her face, her mouth pressed into a hard, pained line while her free hand clenched into a ball as it rested on her knee below the table. Something was clearly wrong. As if her presence wasn’t evidence enough, a cold sort of detachment emanated from the young woman as she sat stiff and upright in her chair, making no conversation past her initial inquiry.

[Gideon]

Ahnatep was not a city one could sew up into a neat little purse of mundane details. Each action had an ulterior motive, every coin a concealed third side. The merchant you traded with candidly in the morning could try and swindle you of your earnings by the evening. Just as people whom you thought were your enemies one day could be looking out for your best interests the next. That was not to say the city was entirely corrupt, though from the men Gideon dealt with, making such a claim was well within his right. It was just that Ahnatep was like a puzzle whose pieces changed shapes by the echo of each bell. A rounded edge became a jagged corner, a hollow gap nothing more than a smooth line. It made his particular profession a logistical nightmare to the inadaptable mind, and forced those who walked its indeterminate path to never trust a soul. Was it rewarding? To a degree. Gideon did not adhere to some misguided set of principles as most men who took pride in their work did. There was not a cause his banner was staked firmly in the ground beside, nor a person he would rely on if things went south. If anything, money was the closest thing he declared any sort of allegiance to short of himself, the sellsword’s heavy eyes leveling with the small pile of silver he’d left on the table for Sabaf to claim. He could almost feel the proprietor’s eager gaze resting over his shoulders at that moment, peeking from behind the tawny curtain that led to the back room of clinking dishes and muffled voices. The Eypharian would wait until his client retired to claim the prize, like a scavenger of the wastes cloaked in the skins of a lamb. It was a service whose rewards he relished with delight. Gideon did not fault the olive skinned stalker for his avarice, however. If anything, he saw Sabaf’s actions as a courtesy to his own privacy, giving his client a few needed minutes of peaceful reflection in the growing light of the lazy morning. The two men shared a common interest in what lay upon the table. The only difference between them relied upon how they earned it. Perhaps to the rest of society, one could look upon the deeds of each man and decide one to be the more honest between them. But in Gideon’s eyes, any deed for the sake of money was one in the same. Whether he was torturing a mark to cough up a debt, or dining with that same mark peacefully to discuss payment arrangements. A service was little more than a service, regardless of its intent or consequence. The warmth from the cups whose contents he’d poured apathetically down his throat had brought a darker tint to his sun kissed cheeks by now, a detached half smirk budding across razor thin lips as he felt the room‘s ambiance shift ever so delicately. In truth, it was nothing more than her shadow stretched languidly across the sandstone floor that gave him notice of her approach, but there were other telltale symptoms as well. The girl’s scent preceded her in the same way that it defined her, a spring’s ocean breeze caught within an early evening’s light, tucked neatly away from the acrid stench of brine. It reminded him of days that preceded even memory, when everything in the world was still virginal, filled with new experiences that were catalogued in no particular order. New parents. New lands. A new life. It was frightening and exhilarating all at once. Kalesse could make him feel this way without so much as lifting a delicate finger, and it was a power Gideon made no attempt to shed light on for either one‘s sake. The boots that whispered sweet nothings across the floor were also a strange comfort, neither boasting her presence nor suspicious enough to raise alarm. It was a quiet sort of confidence, ironic given the woman’s more candid predisposition. But something was amiss in those footsteps today, and had Gideon been of a more collected mind, he might have picked up on the slight nuance a bit sooner. Watching her sit down, Gideon’s expression became as vacant as the wall standing next to him, eyes carefully taking inventory of each piece to the steadily building puzzle. If memory was any good at serving him, which as of right now was utterly suspect, they were not supposed to meet with one another for at least another fortnight. To Gideon this meant either she simply couldn’t resist seeing him again, or the more likely event, something had gone wrong. What are you having? The half filled red clay mug scraped raggedly across the unpolished surface, the tips of the sellsword’s fingers delivering it invitingly towards her palm as the amber contents were momentarily disturbed inside. Any immediate desire to speak was curbed by the pained expression she wore upon her sleeve, allowing the Chaktawe to swallow her fill and set the mug down before Gideon even came to relax back in his chair. Knowing that Sabaf was likely within earshot of their small reunion, Gideon‘s voice tempered itself to a tone that suited their proximity. ”Not the best in town, but it beats what they pass as water.” There were many questions he wanted to ask, many details that his toiling mind would have been grateful to receive. But Kalesse was not a client of his, and had earned the right not to be treated as such. With her, things were blissfully complicated. Where business often saw him torturing another piteous soul for information or recompense, the girl provided a world for him to engage with on an intellectual level. Free of sore knuckles and any lingering trace of guilt. Talking with her was like a puzzle, though most pieces of it did not change. Perhaps that was what attracted him to her the most. There was at least some level of assurance there, something tangible he could grasp. And it pained him from within to see her in such a vulnerable state.

[Kalesse]

Sparing not a single moment to glance at the liquid inside, Kalesse lifted the mug as soon as it filled her palm, tossing its contents into the back of her throat without caring to even savor a drop. The alcohol burned on the way down, eliciting a quiet sort of groan from the young woman as she closed her eyes and settled back into the chair, the mug still cradled between both of her hands. The silence between them spoke louder than either of the companion’s body language, Kalesse neither elaborating or looking Gideon in the eye.

Tipping the cup to her lips once more, still lounged in her chair and completely closed off, the Chaktawe winced as she swallowed the stale liquor; a shake of the mug gave only a little splash of a response. Pushing what remained back to the man perched across from her, Kalesse whistled sharply to call for more drink, raising two fingers into the air when Sabaf glanced up. “Finish it up.” This was to Gideon, the proprietors sour glare pointedly ignored as she settled back into her chair. “Guaranteed this next batch will be even more watered down.”

In the short time that she had been sitting there, an alcohol induced flush had colored the young woman’s cheeks, though her expression stayed tight, the wary sparkle in her eye only brightening as she seemed to struggle with the emotion being kept locked down within her. The alcohol had done it’s job of removing the acrid taste of bile from her throat, burning away all physical remnants of the last day, failing only to loosen the tension the muscles that held her back and shoulders stiff as a board.

But that was what the next drink was for.

Dragging a nail along the crack of the table before her, Kalesse settled a hooded gaze upon the wanderer, the majority of her opaque eyes hidden beneath her lashes as if they could serve as any sort of protection from the questions she saw percolating beneath Gideon’s quiet exterior. “Might as well ask.” The sadness she had felt having made the decision to leave this man behind but a few days ago mingled with the sour reality that he had, for all intents and purposes, been quite content to continue his jobs in Ahnatep. Gideon wasn’t the only one missing the subtle changes of their companion, personal feelings overwhelming the intuition that develops between traveling companions.

“I’m not going to cry it all out on your shoulder. I wouldn’t be back here if something hadn’t gone wrong. We both know that.” The anger was defensive and prompting, as if Kalesse hoped to instigate some kind of reaction out of the man. Sabaf plunked down two more clay mugs as she spoke, giving them both a hard look before he turned sharply and returned to his work. Scooping up the drink closest to her, Kalesse knocked back another large swallow while she waited for the response she tried to elicit, trying not to wince as the bitter drink scoured at the ragged remains of her throat, torn and abused by the heart wrenching sobs Kalesse had shared with no one while alone in the red sands.

[Gideon]

“Finish it up. Guaranteed this next batch will be even more watered down.” Gideon’s lips twisted wryly, the luster of his eyes now no more than a weary grey, dulled by events beyond the grasp of his control. Dusky lines scrawled across his features in petulant cursive, making the traveler look more intractable than what came naturally. But to the well acquainted, it was just the sign of troubled thoughts leaking to the surface. Taking the mug gruffly in hand, instinct bade him to hastily squelch whatever agent of darkness was availing him. He was nothing if not a creature of habit after all, and habits were enslaved to things such as vice. The comfort he had relied on countless times before, however, suddenly felt hollow and vapid in his hand while sitting there. The mug froze, hovering between table and parched lips, as Gideon’s features softened unexpectedly, and the breath he’d been holding slowly relaxed. It came back down, pushed aside as though it were a small child being silenced of its wanting attention. His gaze instead became intently focused on hers, placid as an untouched lake and twice reflective. Even through her goading he remained unnervingly collected, which could have just as easily roused her passions further if it hadn’t been for his hand snaking its way across the table. Silently his fingers threaded between hers, the rustle of their skin and the fabric of his stretching sleeve filling the quiet. The pressure he applied was gentle at first, pleading with her to unwind just enough that she might lose some of the tension he saw poised in her shoulders. His thumb coiled around to the back of her palm and brushed it with a tenderness rarely expressed, watching with pursed lips as she tossed back the fresh drink Sabaf brought them. Gideon‘s continued to remain untouched. “Whatever it is,” he began carefully, his voice a deep and soothing baritone, “need not be said here.” Certain conclusions under such circumstances were not difficult to imagine. Arriving days before she was meant to return, with not a word spoken as to the status of her family whom she‘d gone to visit, and no visible signs of serious injury plaguing her, Gideon could only assume something had happened. Something terrible enough to isolate herself from him…from the world. “Perhaps it would be best to retire to my room. Some privacy, for whatever you may need.” Tugging his bottom lip back into nibbling teeth, the rest of his expression became pensive, eyes darting casually to where he knew Sabaf to roam behind his curtain. If what the traveler suspected was within a few suspicions of being true, then such discussion was best left behind locked doors and away from prying ears.

[Kalesse]

Well, that was not at all what she had expected.

A slight widening of her eyes was the only thing that belayed Kalesse’s shock at Gideon’s gesture, the warm pressure of his hand sending a shiver up her arm that stiffened her fingers and locked her elbow straight as the out-of-character softness in his voice stabbed viciously at the barrier she had erected around her emotions to contain them.

Neither warmly entwining her fingers in return nor pulling out of his grasp, Kalesse negated the need for a response by tipping the mug to her lips and slowly, but steadily, draining the swill within. The clatter of hardened clay on wood filled the space between them, the young woman avoiding the all too intense gaze of the man beside her by simply staring at the table between them. He spoke again and, almost reluctantly, Kalesse nodded. “We will go.”

Allowing her fingers to linger within his grasp while she pushed her chair back and stood, the proud woman continued to skirt his gaze as a slight pressure of her own was expressed, her fingers curling briefly before necessity broke the handhold. Inching her way out from behind the table, Kalesse paused to fish a coin or two from somewhere inside her clothing, dropping them to thunk loudly on the table as she waited for Gideon to stand and lead the way to his room. She knew where it was, of course, but that look he had given her. And the touch… too much would be presumed. Plus, he had left his drink un-drank. That was not okay.

“I will meet you there.” An excuse to compose herself that she hoped he would overlook, Gideons drink found its way into Kalesse’s hand, the contents dumped just as quickly down her throat as the others. It wasn’t about taste, at this point. Kalesse knew that she would have to talk as soon as that door was closed behind them, ensconcing the pair in as much privacy as a rented room in an Inn could provide. The alcohol helped to lubricate her pride, something that she’d always had a hard time swallowing.

Leaving the coins as payment, Kalesse walked slowly and steadily towards the stairs that lead to the rooms in the Lady’s Lap, her careful movements meant to hide the unsteady wobble that already characterized her steps. Long rides across the red sands and even longer days with little food had exhausted both her mental and emotional faculties. Drinking on an empty stomach had been a poor choice but, as she saw it, there was little other option. She had to tell him… somehow.

Though the really let on very little to one another, Kalesse understood Gideon in a way that she hadn’t connected with anyone else. Sure, she knew the likes and dislikes of her family, knew her tribe by name and face and voice, but never had she allowed herself to get close enough to a person that their feelings, emotions, and reactions were just as important or potent as her own. Holding herself coldly aloof from all of that was how Kalesse functioned.

Worrying about how Gideon would react was new, painful, and distracting.

Allowing the door to the room swing closed, Kalesse stood just inside the doorway looking at the toes of her scuffed leather shoes, wincing visibly when the door schicked softly closed. The silence was oppressive, the weight of it pressing so heavily on the young woman’s shoulders that her knees buckled and she moved swiftly through the small room, seeing only the bed and collapsing upon it.

“They’re gone. They’re all gone.” The room was expressionless, empty and bare to Kalesse’s eyes as she flickered her gaze back and forth, looking but not really seeing anything at all. “The tents, the food, all the things… but no people.” Emotion choked her, pushing the words from her mouth faster than she would have normally let them go. “I searched but I couldn’t find anything. The tracks were all but blown away.” From the floor below there was a loud thump, a screeching yell and raucous laughter. Wincing violently away from the sound, Kalesse gasped aloud, a startled sound that also spoke of the tears she refused to shed.

“Damn these worthless sands. They mask all trace of my parents. They’re gone, Gideon.” She looked at him then, the tears that pooled all but invisible as the opaque expanse that was her gaze swallowed them. “What am I supposed to do?”