Reunion

[Shaqira]

　　

37 th SPRING 517
Kuahala Estates

　　　　 Syna’s light filtered in through the hollows in the clean, smooth, white walls, basking the goddess in Her warmth. Although goddess she was not, so she would have called herself, if not for the fear of invoking the wrath of those whose birthrights were wholly divine.

It would be a forgivable mistake at a glance. Gilded skin glistened in the late morning light, while long, luscious wavy hair, dreaded in a few places, cascaded down her back as the maiden lounged on a bed not her own. Cheekbones delicately painted in faded rose, arms with an artwork of gold painted in spirals, her hips exposed by her dress equally decorated in stylish, gold geometrical shapes.

The maiden was propped up on a rolled wolf pelt, in her top-left hand she held a leather bound book and in her middle-left was poised a stick of charcoal. Her nose wrinkled lightly as the hush hush of the charcoal against the parchment filled the quiet. Her hands leaned lightly, so as not to smudge the outlines already done of a man and a dog.

The subject of her drawing had been one of the merchants she had travelled with. Quite handsome, for a human sailor, she thought. She moved her hand in light, airy strokes, inside the lines of his face. Creating grey strokes down the right of the representation, on the opposite side to where she imagined the light to hit his features. The concentration was intense in the line wrinkling between her thick brows.

As her light strokes took her charcoal toward the centre of the drawn face, she halted then. This point took an expert gaze, to shade where the light and curves of his visage would meet. The artist decided she had not the patience for this portion of her drawing. Huffing a breath through puffed cheeks, she flopped the journal and charcoal down beside her, and reclined in the bed with a faint smile.

Though, it was not a lover’s bed she found herself in. “Brother.” Her voice greeted the six-armed man who had just stepped into the room. His sister, the owner of that voice, set down her book and charcoal, lifted her three right arms to settle them more comfortably above her head. She had not even turned to face him, the subject of her greatest affections.

She was playing at aloof, pretending lofty ignorance. “How did you get yourself into this mess.” There, a smile, lilting at the tips of her rosy, painted lips, as a deep brown, seeing gaze swept the apartment with a whimsical hint of distaste. “This is not home.” She drawled the word, home. Home. Those monumental palaces, forged in gold and marble, a jewel in the heart of the desert.

Finally, her gaze alighted on her dearest, and Shaqira swept up in one graceful arch to her feet. Tucking her lower arms back, she breezed over toward him, a whirlwind of beige floating fabric of her dress, and wolfish grin. “Surprise!”

There was a child-like lilt to her tone then; even though she, revealingly, flaunted the body of a woman, her heart sung with the immaturity of one accustomed to a sheltered life. Reaching up to clasp her brother’s cheek and jaw in her topmost right hand, she leant up on tip-toes to plant a kiss passionately on his lips. Too intimate for comfort, but brief.

When she broke the embrace, she still clung to his shoulders with her upmost hands, her middle clasped around her waist, her lower perched on her hips. She clucked a giggle and beamed up at him as she took in his expression, amusement filling hers with a playful pout as heavily kohl-lined eyes flickered over his features. “Did you miss me?”
　　

[Rhodri]

Rhodri stood on the plateau that was behind his apartment. His deep, earthy eyes scanned the vast space that stretched out before him to the beach below and the sea beyond. There were so many things that he could see. To the south was Rookery Park and to the north was Wyser’s Tower and the waterfall that had something to do with tears. The handsome man smiled to himself then turned and slipped from his cloak. He was shirtless and barefoot –a training technique used at the academy back home- and holding his rope dart with the tail in his lower left hand, the chain in the middle left and the blade in the top hand. He had scarce knowledge of the weapon with little practice beyond holding and swinging the thing. Living in a city of renowned warriors had a way of encouraging a man to increase his physical prowess.

He began by arranging his arms in a way that had the top and bottom hands back while the middle one was forward which gave him some tension to the line. Rhodri made repeated pairs of steps that included a right step and a left lunge accompanied by a hip swing. The motion was what he needed to generate the high amount of momentum to toss the dart. After three rounds of this, the Eypharian turned and faced the rock wall where he had used a loose rock and created a square the size of a man’s torso. There was about ten feet of space between the target and the weapon. Using the steps he had just practiced, Rhodri added in the sweep of his arms. He threw the top hand first and pointed the dart at the intended box with the middle arm coming almost immediately behind and releasing the coiled length of chain.

Clank. The dart was not only several feet to the right and a few more short but it had tangled itself into the first few links of chain and rendered itself useless. With an alternating pull of four arms, both right and left, Rhodri drew the weapon back to himself then reloaded his grip to try again. He positioned his feet then looked to how he held the projectile. He adjusted his lead so that there was more time where he would be allowed to loose the coil. Based on the Eypharian’s last throw, he figured that there was simply too much left to right momentum. Ready for another go, he made his first step then the second which used his hips to transfer his body’s power into the upper body. He threw the dart with great force and watched it sail then gently tossed the chain ahead trying not to detour his initial shot.

Chink! The dart nailed the wall. It was still a few feet wide –this time to the left- but it was even with the box and the chain had plenty of reach. Rhodri grinned and felt the elation that accompanied the success of training. While not a full victory, in practice as long as one was moving forward there was cause for enthusiasm and careful praise. The young man had not been given such luxuries as a youth under the tutelage of his father and uncles but such was the way of things when you belong to an important family. The desert brat didn’t care because he was no longer in the circle of influence. He had been cast out and was forced to earn his way back. With a set jaw, Rhodri recoiled the weapon and prepared for another shot. Every attempt at perfection; every round of work and every ounce of sweat was a building block to the temple which would one day honor the man whose name translated to ‘famously powerful’. So he threw the dart at the wall.

Over and over again for almost a bell, the aristocrat practiced his secondary weapon. He was drenched in sweat from the sun and the work but there were other things he wanted to accomplish today so Rhodri coiled up his weapon and slung it over his head and shoulder with the dart tucked into the chain. The young man dropped down onto his palms while his core and back muscles went rigid. This kept his body straight as if he were standing but kept him suspended upon his hands and feet. Eypharians don’t derive the same kind of benefits from normal pushups in the way that the inferior races do since they have six arms so to make it more beneficial and more challenging, there is a game of switching that takes place. If the hands on the right are even numbers and the hands on the left are odd while the feet are lettered ‘a’ and ‘b’, then the pattern goes like this: 1-6A, 5-2B, 3-4A, 1-4B, 2-3A, 5-6B, 1-2A, 3-6B, 5-4A and the final rep in the set of ten being all six hands at once and no feet. This requires a great deal of core strength as well as balance.

Rhodri moved slowly up and down as his arms burned from the exertion. His muscles strained and his body ached- especially his abdomen but he refused to give up. He went through one set of ten and held his feet aloft which caused him to shake a bit. After replanting his toes against the dusty rock, he went through the course again but forced himself to pause for three ticks each time he lowered his body to the ground. By the time he completed the second leg lift, he was spent and collapsed onto the ground for a time. Eventually, the young warrior rose to his feet slowly and looked down at the mess he had become. He picked up his cloak and dusted himself off as he languidly made his way back to apartment. The chain had become an agitation so he simply carried it in his hand.

When he opened the door, he was quick to discard his weapon and cloak into a pile near where he kept his ruck. Rhodri froze when he heard a voice but it was not fear or worry that held him in stasis. He was almost afraid to turn around as a mocking line rippled through his ears like the wave of a morning bell after a rough night. With his broad shoulders turned just slightly and his back to the bed, the man looked back to see from the corner of his eye the source of his stagnated state. Sprawled upon his mat was a lean and luscious figure that was accented by Syna’s kiss in every way from glistening body art to well-made clothing but the luster of smooth, golden skin and long wavy hair seemed to radiate a divine presence. The corners of the Eypharian’s mouth curled up into a smile that more closely resembled a sneer. Not all of the divine were pure in nature and this being was among that class. The big man pivoted and brought himself to the center of the room where the lithe figure had danced to meet him.

His eyes softened from the hardened gaze to one of a more playful aggression. Rhodri accepted the kiss and allowed her to linger for a moment with her hands on his shoulders. Then, with a wink, he instigated something they had not done in some time –a ritual of their childhood. His middle hands snapped out and took her by the hips below the bone where her curves were widest and where her own fingers could easily brace upon his grasp. Slowly, big brother lifted little sister from the ground then began to tilt and twist her to his right. His upper and lower hands helped shift and support her weight which was not hard given the difference in their size.

Shaqira went from facing him on the floor to floating up towards the ceiling while getting a rotating view of the small housing unit. Rhodri carefully but firmly walked her body up until they were facing the same direction but his sibling was hoisted to where her waist was just in front of and to the right of his face. His lower hands each cupped the tops of her feet while his middle arms supported her legs; the left leg was straight and pointed at a steep angle outwards and down while the right was folded at the knee and her foot tucked up against her thigh much in the same way some people stretch before running or climbing. His upper hands supported her torso with the left pushing into the left side of her arched back and the right reached around to apply flat pressure from his palm against her sternum. If Qira remembered her part, the right pose would make it look as though she was leaping through the air with power and grace.

This was a move they had perfected in the shade of the family’s personal oasis under the desert stars when the world left them alone. Qira was the princess of the sands and Rhodri was her warrior and constant savior; grateful to be of service to the daughter of the gods. The joy his heart felt to see and hold his little girl –for she was his- was enough to make his chest ache. The elder Eypharian took many a beatings and even a few humiliations to prevent her from bearing the brunt of her actions. His female kin personified arrogance which led to rash decisions fueled by poor judgment often resulting in disaster.

Rhodri felt the nostalgia fade and gently lowered her back down by alternating his hands along the tight muscles of the dancer’s body until her heels were placed between his bare feet. He wrapped his middle arms around her torso and pulled Qira back against his sweat-tacked abdomen. He held his lower arms around her waist but with his palms up so she could take his hands while the upper arms relaxed down around the girl’s shoulders and crossed under her chin and over her chest with palms down to take another set of hands. The Eypharian was a human blanket, shield and shelter for his little sister and this was a stance of comfort that they held during times of turbulence. She didn’t know it yet but Qira would soon learn of the tumultuous situation in which her actions had placed her.

“I missed you the day I left…” Rhodri said quietly and rested his cheek against the top of her head. “Then I realized how quiet the world could be and forgot all about you!” He chuckled to himself but would hold her fast despite any struggling. After a few moments of peace and remembering fond times of childhood innocence, the elder sibling released her. He moved to where he had a somewhat fresh pot of water and a cloth then began to slowly and methodically wipe and rinse away the dirt and grime.

With his back to Qira, he began a short speech. “I assume father and mother didn’t send you so that means that you’ve run away. While my soul rejoices that you’re here, you must understand that this can only be temporary.” He paused while the damp cloth passed over his face and rubbed at the grit which clung to his cheeks and forehead. There was so much he longed to tell her but he knew if he pushed too hard right away that she would do something even more foolish. The girl was the only one he knew more stubborn than himself...possibly –save for one other exception.

[Shaqira]

　　
　　　　 The Eypharian’s gaze softened and Shaqira felt the thrill in her belief that his gaze only softened for her.

“Did you miss me?” She had pouted, and her brother placed his hands on her in a familiar way, a familiar pattern. As she felt herself lifted to her tip-toes, and upward still, her heart soared and her features shone with a gleeful grin.

　　　　Memory bade her respond with squeezing taut abdomen for balance, reaching up with her upmost arms, her middles taking to his shoulders, her lowest bracing against his bare, sweaty chest. Until he had her lifted so high with his hands supporting her feet and thighs and abdomen. Without an ounce of doubt in him she leaned into his grasps.

With as languid a grace as she could pull into the flex and flow of moving her muscles, her fingers unraveled from where she grasped his at her hips and extended up, forward, as she arched her back exaggeratedly. A swan arching wings, ready to lift itself to the sky.

　　　　Her broher knew her heart—stepping into the role of valiant warrior so she could indulge herself in fantasy. In her brother’s grasp she was a princess, an empress, a goddess. He, her protector, hero.

　　　　Wavering in her balance, the dancer flexed and tensed those muscles in her abdomen, her thighs and calves and sides consciously against the sway and pull of gravity. When those sinews and tendons grew tired, burning pleasantly with the stretch, and her brother began to gently lower her to her feet again she was panting lightly.

Her cheeks glowed, complementing the hue dusted there. As her brother embraced her, she felt his hard chest against her cheek and sighed. Home was wherever Rhodri was.

　　　　“I missed you the day I left…” His words honey to her ears, and she expected him to respond just so. The sweat glistening across his gold-hued complexion disturbed her from his grasp sooner than she might have otherwise. Her expression flashed with indignation when he chased his affection with teasing. “Then I realized how quiet the world could be and forgot all about you!”

As he withdrew from the hug she shoved at the barrel of his body with her right uppers and middle arms. Well, if that’s the way he was going to be. “I assume father and mother didn’t send you so that means that you’ve run away.”

　　　　The sister planted her lowest-left hand on her hip and swung out her hip just for extra posturing, awaiting some reprimand about safety and the family reputation and anticipating it by lining the tip of her tongue with sharp accusations of his deeds for ammunition.

He took a different route, though, and his next words stung at her a smidgen. “While my soul rejoices that you’re here, you must understand that this can only be temporary.” Oh, the stubbornness sparked. With an exaggerated sigh and the hint of an eye-roll, the Eypharian sister made a show of her disinterest in this talk of not-staying.

　　　　“I left a note, they know I am here with you by now. You can’t send me back so soon."—as if he could make her do anything—"Those suitors mother and father have had in mind for me, it was dinner here, bow demonstration there, dancing every other evening for prospective in-laws. As soon as you were gone—like salivating dogs.”

Her middle arms wrapped about her waist as her skin rippled with her distaste. Certainly, having a brother with a protectiveness such as Rhodri's was useful in these situations, which required her be perfectly civil with cocky aristocratic Eypharian men. This was her way of saying: she missed him.

“Oh, Rhodri, the ship-ride here was just awful. There was no one of worth to speak with. I haven’t bathed in weeks.” Shaqira did not make do with basin and cloth well, no, to her bathing was almost a religious affair. When her tirade of complaints finally ceased, her gaze was distracted by the sunlight cascading across the floor from the plateau and her thoughts drifted to her purpose for the journey.

　　　　“What will you do here? How do you live? I had to come see you,” make sure you are upholding the family honour, glory and reputation during your banishment were her unspoken thoughts. “Besides, you would just be lost without me, brother,” she sing-sang, as if she had not just lamented to her brother her craving of his company.

Her gaze sought his then and, while there was a lingering taunt dappled in the shadows of her smile, for once there was a curiosity untainted by judgement dancing in her eyes. Shaqira really did wonder how her brother was faring without the teat of their parents to tap for gold and influence. In her own, intrusive way, she was concerned about him.
　　

[Grim Ravenwood]

Your Grades

Rhodri

Skills:
Observation: 1
Weapon – Rope Dart: 2
Bodybuilding: 1
Endurance: 1
Seduction: 1
Rhetoric: 1

Lores:
Location: Rookery Park
Location: Wysar Tower
Every Shot is one aimed at Perfection
Shaqira: Younger Sister
Shaqira: Arrogance Personified
Shaqira: Princess of the Sands

Shaqira

Grades Withheld

If you decided to come back, feel free to shoot me a pm, so we can sort things out!

Grader's Comments:

Per Goss' request, I will try to be less petty and grade the threads I have skipped lol

In light of that, please disregard the message I've sent you. But, onto business...

So, I've awarded two points for the "Rope Dart" weapon due to the length and quality of the text that described the training. Kudos for being the only person I've ever done that for (twice). Likewise, even if Rhodri did not try to seduce his sister per se, I believe that kissing, intercourse, and such acts are all to be put under the seduction skill. But if that bothers you, for whatever reason, we can work something out.
Likewise, if there are any problems with the grade itself, be it skills, or lores, feel free to message me, so that I can look into it.

One last thing, you still only have two lores listed under the "Lores" section of your character sheet. It'd be awesome if you updated them to reflect the ones you've received.

Great read, by the way!

As always, Death guide thee, sandwalker~
Grim