[Jade Pond] Darker than the Water [Victor Lark]

[Sophia]

Spring 30, 511

This was her favorite basking area. Always had been. The best part was that it was fairly near her den, and on those days where she dragged her kill back to devour it in the tiny cave, she would often come back here to lie down and sleep through the rest of the day, satisfied with her stuffed belly.

Today however, Sophia did not come to bask. When he had seen the pool and its offer of a good way to cool down in the forest heat, Victor had wanted to try out the water. She was completely fine with this. Sophia loved to be in the water anyway.

She had gotten there first, testing the water with her right foot first. It was the perfect temperature for the day, where not a cloud hung in the sky and the sun shone brightly. Already she began stripping off the borrowed clothing. Victor would show up soon, but Sophia had not cared about her naked state since she had first met him. She only ever wore clothes because it was a gift from him, and thus treasured.

She stepped back a little, only to get more room in order to jump to the middle and make a big, satisfying splash in the center of the calm pool. The chill was refreshing, and she was smiling when she resurfaced, her feet supporting her in the shallow end. Might as well have a little fun on her own until Victor got here, she figured.

[Victor Lark]

Slowly he was beginning to learn the way: the height of the rocks, the placement of the trees, the movement of the sun. Still, it never hurt that she was always there to remind him. When the shining water was in sight, Victor was shortly behind the Kelvic, already unbuttoning his shirt. But as she abandoned his clothes at the shore, he escaped quietly behind a particularly tall stalagmite and secretly skirted the still waters, out of sight.

When her head broke the surface again, she would see him emerging from between the lower branches of a tree that hung opposite. His hands and neck were two shades darker than the skin over his ribs, his smiling face sunken by his new life. The long days in the wilderness were taking their toll on the city boy's body. Sophie did not eat plants, and while Victor had been lucky enough to discover two species safe for eating, he was wary of testing any more. He slept beside her in her long and frequent cat naps, but still he could not keep the fat on. Nonetheless, his mind had not caught up with his body's misery. As he balanced precariously above the pond, he was happy.

He jumped, laughing and yelling as he fell. He was immediately silenced by submergence, his ears full of the water’s muted echoes. He felt the soft sediment beneath him and the bubbles rising up around him. The cool water pulled away his warm sweat and soothed the tree bark’s scratches on his hands and feet. He opened his eyes. They stung, but not terribly. A fish flashed in the distorted sunlight, surprisingly close to a predator such as he. Otherwise, his world was murky and dim, gloriously sinister and peculiarly peaceful.

Then his starving lungs reminded him of his priorities and he pushed up against the earth, arms flailing inelegantly against the thin medium. At its deepest point, the pond could not have been ten feet, but still the Ravokan struggled to orient himself. He managed to breach the surface, but could not keep his head up for long. He covered his panic with a smile, spitting water and kicking desperately as his arms attempted to sway calmly beneath his bobbing head. After a few seconds of that, he was submerged again. This was less fun than he thought it would be.

[Sophia]

It wasn't at all long that Sophia waited for him. It only took a moment for her to spot him, though if the water hadn't obscured her senses she probably could have smelled him from farther away. She wasn't sure that even if she did not possess the extraordinary senses of her race she would not have been able to detect him, for the man had begun to stink to high heaven. Of course, also being a creature of the wild she did not find the odor offensive, though others might have.

She was only pleased to see him, if not a little surprised to see him fully unclothed. Not that she expected him to bathe clothed, just that she had never seen him in this state. He had definitely changed since his life had taken him here, even she could see that. And despite the slightly anemic look to him, she did not find the sight unpleasant.

Victor stayed far longer submerged than she would have liked, but eventually the man resurfaced. She met him with a smile, but that melted from her face as he slowly began to sink again. At first Sophia thought it was another one of his games, but when he did not come back up again she began to panic. Quickly she tore her way through the water to him, diving downwards. The trouble was, she had never been able to figure out how exactly to stay afloat, and so she could not bring him to the surface. It wasn't long before she grabbed hold of him, but in order to get back to where they could breathe Sophia clawed her way across the bottom of the pool, back to the shallow end where she had previously been. Finally they made it to where they could both stand, and Sophia brought them up to the surface of the water, coughing and sputtering.

[Victor Lark]

He had it under control. He was learning, Each stroke seemed to push him deeper, but he could feel himself nearing the shimmering surface, so close to success. Alas, he was in fact flailing helplessly, raising his heart rate, turning the green water into a thick blanket of white bubbles. Then he felt a tug, and the spotty sunlight began to recede. He was descending into the water's depths outside of his own accord. His chest ached for air. He began to panic.

Before he could sufficiently suffocate, Victor was pulled above the surface and his lungs filled with air like light in a dark room. For a moment, he thought of nothing but breathing, choking, gasping, but then he remembered his danger. He started, looking around for the monster that had tried to drown him, and only saw her. When he realized the truth of the situation, he looked away from her bitterly. Sulking with ingratitude, he said, “I wasn't drowning, I could have saved myself.”

He was more embarrassed than angry, but even he could not tell the difference. As his breathing steadied, he briefly ducked below the water, moving is hair from his face, and when he rose again he looked at her. His eyes were inflamed by the water's touch, making him appear thoroughly upset, far more than his carefully crafted reputation should have allowed. “But thank you,” he said, then added stubbornly, “for your concern.”

He refused to seem foolish for long. They both needed to think of something else. Searching for a distraction, Victor’s eyes settled on his reflection in the unsettled water. There he saw a pathetic wisp of a beard on his chin, tapering to an unattractive point. His first two fingers reached up to touch it. Trying to muster up a new calm, he mentioned through a stiff jaw, “I need a shave, I think. Will you get my razor?” He glanced at the Kelvic for an instant and then his gaze moved on to his trunk, which waited patiently in the sand-dirt.

[Sophia]

She was utterly taken aback by the ingratitude that he displayed towards her. She was normally in the business of taking lives to feed herself, rather than saving them, but even she was able to tell that one should be thankful for a saved life. Instead he practically yelled at her for helping, confusing and frustrating her.

Sophia stared at him for some time, biting her lip, unsure of what to say. There was no anger in her, only annoyance at herself. She had been so sure he was drowning, but now she only scolded herself for not being able to tell that he had it under control. It was clear that he did not, and yet his words and her devotion made her change her confused mind.

Victor thanked her, but it did not mean that she was off the hook in her own mind. It would take more service on her part to make this up. This would start now, as he touched his chin thoughtfully and beckoned for her to retrieve the razor. She knew not what a shave was, nor a razor, but she had common sense. He obviously wanted the fur from his chin gone, she figured, and something in there had to be up to the job. She clamored to the side of the pool and climbed up out.

The water ran off her body as if she were dancing in a storm as she stepped lightly over to the waiting trunk. It took a few moments of digging around in it, but eventually she managed to find a sharp object that seemed perfect for taking off hairs. Happy that she could help after such a grievous offense, Sophia turned to run back to the pool. But she was wet, and the rock was wet from the wild splashing about, and running was not a good idea. Quite suddenly she slipped, falling face first onto the sharp stone. The Kelvic received a long gash upon her forehead and from the razor she held tightly in her hand. Groggy and disoriented, she raised her bloodied face up to stare at Victor.

[Victor Lark]

He turned back to the water as she scrambled out of it, pulling his fingers through his grimy hair. His arms seemed a little brighter now that the filth had been washed away, and without it there was no excuse for the condition of his skin. Scuffs and bruises hung on the once smooth flesh, tainting its old regality and charm. This adventure was not as glamorous had he had anticipated.

A small thud sounded from behind and tore his attention from his body. He frowned with idle impatience as he peered through the corner of his eye at Sophia’s progress. There he saw a flash of red. He pulled himself hastily out of the pond and climbed the slippery rock towards her, tugging his razor from her hand as soon as he could. His free hand cupped her face briefly and he gazed at her eyes with affectionate incredulity. Then he lifted it to her forehead so that he could remove her hair from the sticky blood there. “Oh... Sophie,” he laughed, speechless.

He took her gently by the hand and led her carefully back to the water. There he dipped the razor in and shook it to rinse it, then closed it and held it between his fingers as he wetted the wound. It was a shallow one, a scrape and not a cut. Before it was thoroughly cleaned, he leaned close and kissed her brow softly, leaving a few red spots like paint on his lips. Then he lifted more water to her face, his amateur fingers perhaps pushing too roughly as he washed the last of the blood into the water. He smiled, inspecting the tender flesh, and said, “Don’t worry, that should heal quick enough. You have to be more careful, you know. You may not always miss your eye!

“Here.” Victor regarded the razor again, opened it. He lifted it to his own temple and without hesitance broke a thin line there, which readily filled with blood. His brow wrinkled in a wince and a single drop separated from him and fell to the pool, dissolving like poison. The water tinkled around him like slippery chimes as he closed the distance between them. Their breaths mingled. His thumb collected a touch of his own blood and he moved it to her lips. He was not forceful; if she recoiled he would shrug and find some other change of subject. But his narrow eyes promised contentment and forgiveness, suggested that obliging him was the best course of action. “Now we can match, see?”

[Sophia]

She was not sure what to do. Her brain was befuddled, it felt like she was underwater again. She looked down at the crimson that dripped from her head onto the wet stone and did not register what it was or where it came from. And suddenly he was there, holding her and smiling. She blinked rapidly as the confusion melted away, leaving only a painful throbbing that felt as if all the deer in the world had lined up to stomp upon her head one by one with their heavy hooves.

She stood when he bade her to by taking her hand and walked with shuffling steps to the water's side. Childish tears welled up in her eyes as the pain increased from the movement. But soon she had forgotten it in the almost clumsy care he took of her, washing away the red and kissing her to soothe the pain.

Silently she stared on as the man took the razor and slashed himself across the forehead, creating almost the same mark that she now bore. The Kelvic had no way of knowing that this type of behavior wasn't exactly common in the 'civilized' world, but she reacted the way she figured he would want her to. She only stared up at him, straight into his eyes as the blood upon his finger dabbed onto her lips.

"Match?" She echoed in a soft voice. Her body was reacting strangely to his touch, becoming warmer and more flustered. And yet Sophia had a child's mind, and did not know how to answer this new feeling. She only knew the pain in her head, and the comfort of his touch as he held her.

[Victor Lark]

“Yes, darling,” The word tasted odd on his tongue, despite how right it felt in his head. “We match. Like lovers.”

He lowered his hands into the water again, eyes lidded heavily in a glance at her mouth. His chest touched hers barely, brushing her breast and nothing more, but with the slightest stretch of his neck he joined their faces in a soft kiss. It was a fleeting, teasing encounter, leaving both their lips redder than before. Just as soon as he seemed to cling to her, he withdrew. His eyes searched hers for their reaction, as they usually did, but there was a budding affection there that he had not felt before. It was a pleasant feeling, but it was marred by confusion and unfamiliarity.

Blood was already welling again on both of their brows. It would heal soon, he had said, but not instantly. With a sudden flourish, Victor rose again from the water and tore clumsily to the yet open trunk, where he retrieved a bottle of wine--well, the man who had given it to him called it wine, but the drink itself was of an inordinately high proof, made for cleaning wounds rather than drinking. He removed the cap as he returned to her, then sat on half-submerged rocks with his feet in the water. “Come here,” he beckoned, pouring a small puddle into his hand. He wiped her wound and then his, cringing at the familiar sting of a cleaned cut.

Then he lifted the bottle and took a hard swig. He was not unaccustomed with the taste of drink, but this one burned hard in his young throat, temporarily warming his head and heart. His brow throbbed hotly as he offered the same to Sophia, trying not to let his grimace linger and dissuade her from following suit. “Delicious,” he said, countenance spread into a more than forgiving grin.

[Sophia]

The Kelvic's body felt hot as if the sun had reached down and held her on the inside, despite the coolness of the waters around them. The wound and her head pulsated painfully, and yet the pain seemed far away. Against the sweat and water the blood ran down freely, much like the small waterfalls in the very pool they resided in.

And then his lips met hers, and the sensation it brought was hotter than any sun. It was only for an instant, but in that instant the entire being of the little lost girl shook to her core and suddenly flooded back into her. She remembered everything now, where she came from, her family, why she had left. The fractured mind of the beast had been mended, and Sophia was helpless to stop the mental blast.

And while her mind struggled to cope with the onslaught, her body was doing much of what it was used to doing- obeying him. Like a conjured creature she took steps forward, her eyes never breaking from his while they were still in view. It was the pain that brought her back as he rubbed the alcohol onto her forehead to clean the wound.

Sophia blinked rapidly as the effects of both pain and romance cleared from her system. She watched him drink the burning liquid that he had poured onto her, and it had a visible reaction upon him. Victor offered the bottle with a strange look, and the Kelvic took it in curious caution. The aroma seared its way into her nostrils, but the scent invoked a memory. Her parents had smelled this way on occasion, and while they never allowed her to partake in the drink, they always seemed to be far more cheerful after having it. Something like that must be delicious as Victor had said, she figured, and brought the bottle to her lips and took a cautious drink.

The taste was like eating a knife. Besides the burning, it felt as though her tongue had left her throat and decided to stick to the top of her mouth, and already she felt the whirring rush of warmth rising to her head. But once the gagging had ceased, she found the after effect to be interestingly pleasurable. She was underwater again, but this time she was not drowning. A slow smile spread out onto her lips as the alcohol swam to her brain and brought on its sluggish feeling. Sophia felt good now, despite the unfortunate events of the past hour.

[Victor Lark]

Victor regarded the razor in his hand a moment before he lifted it tp his jaw and deftly removed the overgrown hair with a few raw strokes. He was rubbing the water over the fading burn when she handed the drink back to him. Immediately he discarded the tool between the rocks and tipped the large bottle back again, then let it dangle between his fingers as he glanced down at her. That charming smile remained on his lips, though it had begun to hang sloppily with the effects of the drink. Silence fell for a few moments and he stared at her face, everywhere but her eyes, trying to gauge her expression where he could not before. A bony thumb moved to her temple to wipe away the last wet dot of blood on her otherwise drying skin. He could only imagine what sort of browning pattern had formed on his face.

Her features seemed softened, perhaps because of the wine, which she obviously had not tasted in a while. Wordlessly he held it out to her and, with his other hand, gently took hers. Then he slipped into the water again, urging her to follow. The cool water soothed his body, which had accumulated a familiar, yet presently uncomfortable, heat. Though it was already thinning, an unfortunate disconnect still persisted between his mind and his lust. He was distracted by his unending investigation of this beautiful, inaccessible creature, who perpetually refused his questions while happily answering his commands. The warm glass with its sloshing innards remained between them, available, as he put himself close to her again, finally meeting her eyes. His fingertips brushed the hair on the side her face, then moved to her chin, her shoulder, her waist below the water.

If she looked hard enough, she might see a question in his eyes, longing not for her body but for her secrets. “I love you,” he said. It was less an affirmation and more of a suggestion.

His touch lingered, forgotten, at her hip. He paused a moment before it became appropriate to speak again, yet still he whispered. The words wallowed in an affected passion. “Why do you stay here, Sophie? Don’t you want to live among people?” Maybe if she associated the innocent question with pleasure, she would answer more fully. Perhaps the alcohol might have loosened her tongue; at least, it had a presence on his. “I think you have forsaken the world, and forgotten your kin,” he accused, his voice newly risen to a vigorous mumble, “What can you care about, out in the wilderness? And for whom?”