A Chance Encounter (van, ronan)

[Vanator]

Vanator bid Kashik goodbye with a kiss and a pat on her arse, then kissed their baby on the head. It was sweltering, and Kash was going to take the baby to the river let him splash in the river. Vanator was going once again to look over the striders in hopes of finding a prospective replacement for Backlash. Turning towards home, Van sighed. It had been three days since Khiara had revealed what had happened between herself and Ronan Windsong. Since then, a coolness had fallen between the drykas and his vanthan wife. Vanator had considered tracking Ronan down and confronting him. But dealing with Ronan out of rage could lead to actions he would regret, or at least could damage his pavilion. He feared he would snap, like he did with the she-zith last season. Wiping the sweat from his brow with a blue rag stuffed in his belt, Van looked up towards the pavilion. Khiara was out of the tent. She needed to get out, she had been cooped up too long. She had found some one to help her get around, and Van figured maybe his cousins Thaladon or Gregan had stopped to help her. Shoving the sweat rag back into a pocket, the Denusk heir changed course and came up behind Khiara and his cousin....only, it was not a cousin who his wife leaned against. It was him.

[Khiara]

As Ronan moved closer, the young vantha could feel a warm blush rise to her cheeks, flattered by his comment. Her lips turned into a soft smile as he moved closer, awkward moment between them unnoticable to her. Eagerness to head to the coral overcame any misgivings she may have had, and as he offered assistance she couldn't help but laugh.

"You don't need to carry me, but thankyou for the offer. I just need a hand, or an arm. Thankyou." Reaching out, Khiara curled her hand lightly around the crook of Ronan's arm, sighing with relief at the added support. Nodding at him with a smile, the young woman began to walk forward.

"Are you staying nearby? Perhaps we could organise to meet up one evening at the Trough. Vanator wouldn't say no to a good mug of mead, and I'm sure you'd love meet Kashik and the baby. They are amazing people." Tucking her hair behind her ear, Khiara looked at Ronan with shifting lavender eyes.

"They are the ones who brought me back when I thought I was lost forever."

[Ronan]

She leaned on his arm for support, wilting under the sun, and then they began to walk off again towards the coral. "Vanator? Kashik? Those are Drykas name, yes? Who are they... friends?" As they moved, he became aware of someone watching from the distance. A blonde haired, male Drykas. A stranger, no doubt, but Ronan raised an eyebrow nonetheless. He had a strange feeling run down his back. "And how are you feeling?" he asked. This sun was intolerable. He wouldn't blame the Vantha if she just melted to the floor right now.

[Vanator]

It became clearer as Vanator came up behind the couple that it was no Denusk whom Khiara leaned against. In fact, he knew very well who it was. Ronan Windsong. The husband, already heated by the sweltering summer sun, now grew hot with anger. He had assumed Khiara understood that she was not to be around Ronan. They had kissed, and Vanator would not tolerate the man even touching his wife again. Tempering his rage, Van stepped up beside Khiara. His eyes remained fixed ahead, his voice tight and controled. "I see you have found help getting out for some air." He said, in a deceptively calm voice. His head turned and his eyes met hers, the serene lavender of the vanthan's eyes already swirling with the gold of distress. His gaze was hard, the flecks of gold in his brown eyes seeming to flash. Then he focused his attention on Ronan, and his gaze turned threatening. His voice, however, remained subdued, though an underlying edge arose. "How kind of you, Ronan, to visit another man's tent and take his injured wife in your arms for a walk." Vanator's right hand, hanging at his side, balled into a fist, but the Denusk simply glared at the younger drykas.

[Khiara]

Vanator's voice made the girl jump, and her shifting golden eyes turned to him lightning quick. She knew it looked bad, but Goddess they were in public. There were other people who knew her, knew him, all around them. And she just needed to get out.

"Vanator, Ronan didn't come to me. I was out here already. I wanted to go to the corral, to see them. And.." Already she had taken her hand from the young man's arm. Swallowing she looked at him, her cheeks red.

"There are no arms around me. Honestly, it was simply an offer to help, when no other would." Although Khiara knew why Vanator was mad, understood it and didn't deny it was warranted - she also felt a small anger in her stomach. There was a whole responsibility for Vanator, and a baby for Kashik...but Khiara couldn't lay in the pavilion melting away forever. She didn't lay blame on either of them, but even five minutes to help her out for a while could have...avoided this.

[Ronan]

Ronan watched as Khiara pulled away from him, and this Vanator stood, all over bearing presence and accusation. His eyes blazed with something, and his defence of Khiara was immediate. Was this her... partner? "I... I'm sorry," he stuttered, "I didn't mean anything..." He looked at Khiara, lost. Suddenly, guilt washed over him, yet he wasn't sure what he had done. And then heat rose to his cheeks. He had kissed this woman. He had shared... feelings for her. She was taken all this time... God's, I'm no better than Siyana. He turned to face Vanator, the man was imposing, and he stood like a sentinel. Ronan wasn't scared of the muscular Drykas, merely overawed. He wondered just what he had gotten himself into. "It isn't what you think," he said carefully. Was that diplomatic enough? By the look of Vanator, it seemed he'd know soon enough.

[Vanator]

Vanator had moved in front of the two, bring them to a halt. His eyes fell to his wife as she proclaimed the innocence of the situation. Vanator and Khiara had already made their peace over the kiss. The husband had been convinced not to seek out Ronan for a confrontation. Now, as his gaze darted to the man, Vanator found he had his chance to confront Windsong afterall. Glare returning to Khiara's, Van's eyes softened at his wife's worried face. But her words had a lingering sting. "it was simply an offer to help, when no other would." Her last statement had a barb, intentional or not. It inferred, in front of this stranger, that he, his first wife, and his family, had somehow been neglectful of her. The statement was true, apparently, and Vanator felt a pang of shame, hurt and anger in it. But to say it in front of the man who had feelings for her, was infuriating. "My apologies if I have been neglectful of you." He replied flatly. "How lucky indeed that another man came along when we Denusk's were too busy to aid you." As soon as the words left his lips, Vanator regretted them. Khiara was a kind-hearted woman, and would never intentionally dishonor his family, or speak ill of them. His regret was reflected in the gaze he gave Khiara before he turned his eyes to Ronin. "You and I have had business to tend to for a while, Ronan Windsong. Indeed, this may be as innocent as you claim. If it were another man I would be grateful of the assistance to Khiara. I am not so jealous as to keep her stowed away where she cannot interact with others and to make friends." He took an imposing step towards Ronan, a scowl clouding his face. "I do, however, take issue at a man who had shown more than an innocent intention towards my wife, had stolen a kiss from her, suddenly appearing again at her side as if she needed rescued." Vanator reached over to Khiara, pulling back her raven hair to reveal the Chevas mark on the olive skin of her neck, then revealing his own matching mark. "Tell me you did you not see this? That she is wed to another?" Van was not an irrational man. He understood the dynamics of the conversations between Khiara and Ronan, the language of loss and pain. It was a conversation like that which brought Khiara and he together for the first time and bound their hearts in a way no other woman had. He too, had stolen a kiss from her that night. But the image kept threatening to prick at him, the image of the man before him pressing his lips to those of his wife. It took great effort to resist the primal response in his gut, to strike Ronan with his fist. The Denusk sighed. His wives were young and beautiful, such affections would have to be expected from other men he supposed. They were harmless, until a line was crossed. Unfortunately, Ronan did cross that line. Vanator's gaze once again darted to Khiara. He knew what he was going to do next would hurt her, even anger her. He regretted that. But it was a matter of honor and he believed even Ronan, if he were drykas at heart, could not deny him the right. It would be short, almost ritualistic, a single act of vindication of a husband who had been slighted. Van's eyes turned back to Ronan. His body followed, twisting to supply power and force to the balled fist that raised up and back, then was unleashed at the younger man's jaw.

[Khiara]

The barbed words hurt, cut deeply into the young wife and her golden eyes showed it as Vanator's own reflected regret. Her gaze dropped to the ground as he spoke, the vantha trying hard not to dwell on the feeling welling in her. Of course, he was angry. Why wouldn't he be? And words always came out senselessly in anger, and she should just let it be. But the comment made her feel more than just guilty or accused. It made her feel like the outsider she was. Not a drykas, or a Denusk. But a stranger.

As the golden skin man reached to move her brunette locks aside, Khiara resisted the urge to draw away. It felt like she was a zibri marked by it's owner being displayed and tagged for market. Or in this case, that it was off the market. Her eyes glanced up at Ronan with shame and apology, wanting to speak in his defence but afraid to stir any more trouble. Leave, just walk away her mind shouted at him, wanting to draw Vanator away and settle their personal issues behind closed tentflaps. People were looking now, interested in the domestic squabbles of those around them for gossip around the campfire. Khiara's cheeks burned even more, her pride and honour chipped and bared for all to see.

She heard her husband sigh, and for a moment she believed perhaps he had taken a moment to reflect. Perhaps he would simply acknowledge the situation and move on. Instead, he turned and pulled his hand away from her, fisted and following through towards the jaw of the younger Ronan. The punch was not just in his fist, it came from the twist of his hips, the tension of his shoulder and the arch of his arm.

"No, Vanator!" Khiara yelled, already to late to halt the act even as her small hands reached out to stop his arm, horrified golden eyes turning to Ronan. She felt the blood drain from her face, ashamed that it had come to this, over her!

[Ronan]

First it was his words. Cold, dry, sarcastic - and laden with seething rage. And then the fist came. Ronan had no time to react. Oblivion came quick enough. A taste of blood filled his mouth, crimson seeping from his nose. Agony flared up, blazing across the bottom of his face as the fist collided with his jaw. He cried out, tipping his head to one side and staggering. Vanator stared at him, eyes blazing like coals. Ronan turned to Khiara for help, but she could only watch in shock, tears filling her eyes, hands pressed against her mouth. What could she do? This was her husband... he had been so blind, so ignorant. "I..." he stuttered, trying to stand up to the man. The pain came and went like the tide. "I didn't know. And that's the honest truth."

[Vanator]

The altercation was over in a moment. Vanator's fist had connected with Ronan's jaw with solid satisfaction. His anger at finding the man with Khiara, and the realization that he had humiliated his wife with his own accusing words, was poured into the right cross. Ronan took the hit, but he did not retaliate, he did not take a defensive posture. Vanator did not want to fight Ronan. He was not worried that the younger man would steal his wife. The assault was simply an act of vindication, a ritual that restored the Denusk's honor. As far as Vanator was concerned, once he had hit Ronan, the two men were settled up. Shaking out his hand, sore from striking the man's strong jaw, Vanator nodded to Ronan. Perhaps, somehow the young man was telling the truth. When Khiara had first told her husband that she felt nothing for Ronan, that his kiss was uninvited and unwelcomed, Van had believed her. His brown eyes glanced to the vanthan's, her irises richly gold in distress. He drew another deep breath and turned his gaze back to Windsong. The husband's tone was calmer, his rage spent on his attack. "Windsong, I do not want you coming around my wife. Good intentions or not, you have shown you have feelings for her, do not complicate your life by becoming a part of hers." His voice was subdued, but edged with a thin hint of threat. Khiara was kind, a beauty, exotic even among the drykas, how could he blame the man for falling for her? Turning back to Khiara, Van met her gaze. There was no apology in his eyes, but there was understanding. He put his arm around her waist. He knew she may not have desired for him to even touch her, but he was going to support her, just as she had allowed Ronan to do. "I am sorry for the words I have spoken to you. I don't understand, even after our talk, I find you with him. I don't understand why." It was a conversation that was better conducted in private, but his statement was as much rhetorical as it was an call for explanation. They would, however, discuss it further once they were alone. Vanator looked again at the younger drykas man. The Denusk hoped the man had learned a lesson.