[Riverfall City Gates] A Whole New World [Issima]

[Sama'el Sunsinger]

Riverfall City Gates 2nd Fall, 511 A.V. Both Sama'el and Issima had been so excited that they were up and ready to go before Syna rose, though he took several minutes to sing Her into the sky before he swung by the Firesong pavilion to pick her up. The Ankal didn't seem to see anything too untoward with Issima accompanying him on his business trip to Riverfall, and so they rode all day. They could not travel as fast as her Strider's fleetest paces because Dohaina was pregnant and Sama'el would not stress her with a day long sprint, so they traveled at Horse's pace, which was fast, but not the same as a Strider on the Web. It was good to be in the saddle again, though he looked a strange sort of Drykas without an yvas. He was going to have to train Horse to the yvas sooner or later. But the light was turning that syrupy golden, the magic hour, as they galloped up to the gates of Riverfall, and finally they slowed. It had been some time since lunch, but part of him had wanted to see how well she rode. They were, after all, the people of the horseclans.

[Issima]

Issima had been longing for this day, this moment, for weeks and months now. Escape. Freedom. From a bit of the responsibility she had inherited, from the pitying glances of loving family members, from the warmth that surrounded her so much it was nearly suffocating. She wanted to feel cold. To feel alone. She wanted the quiet, the isolation. Sama'el hardly counted against that, because he was the avenue guaranteeing her this experience. Besides, the handful of times they had spent together, she found herself fond of him. Issima would have called him friend, if anyone had asked. Menali asked, often, but Issima deflected her in the same gentle way. If her pretty blonde cousin wanted to learn about the man she hoped so desperately to marry, then she needed to do it herself. If there was selfishness in this diversion Issima wasn't consciously aware of it. She had come to hope for Sam's happiness, and a family seemed to be soemthing he wanted very much. Goodbyes had been simple, if sweet, though the tiny cousin who had somehow become her responsibility wept and wailed furiously, first for Issima and then for Sama'el, when he arrived. It was sad to leave his pink, tear-streaked face behind, but Issima was more than eager to be off. Away from her family for a spell, away from her homeland. Rare were the opportunities to ride so furiously for so long, especially now that she'd been saddled with domestic responsibilities. Issima was content to be silent for a good part of their journey. Aponi was the best of friends to her, and feeling his strong frame beneath hers, moving so elegantly through tall grass, was soothing. Both rider and horse seemed to exhilirated to be uncomfortable or fatigued, and when at last they slowed near towering gates, Issima turned a wide-eyed, inexplicably pleased expression towards her escort. "We're here? Just like that?" Her eyes turned back to the gates before her, and she mused aloud. "So close..." Her fingers knotted affectionately in Aponi's mane as she leaned over to murmur softly to him. Quiet words of praise and appreciation. He shuffled and tossed his head. "Am I to play the part of your would-be bride, Sama'el, or shall I be your sister?"

[Sama'el Sunsinger]

"So close in the Fall, yes," he said, gazing over the somewhat familiar landscape and then at her, limned in fiery sunset orange, and smiled. "Would you rather play the sister or the bride?" Turning the tables back on her might not have been witty or especially charming, but his wit was honest and his charm purer, more innocent, than anyone had a right to expect given the hard roads he had walked and ridden. They didn't look much like siblings, but he imagined the vagaries of human coloration were as strange to the Akalak as the nuances of their jewel tones were to him. He was invigorated by the day's ride and the company, but his body was strong again after his summer illness and the slow recovery of his constitution. "And would you like to eat first or find lodging? See the sights?"

[Issima]

The city already seemed remarkably beautiful, even if they were only at the gates. Issi lifted arms overhead and stretched as much as she could atop her mount, and then slid from his back gracefully. It had been a very long while since she'd ridden so much at once, and so the reprieve felt nice, too. The weight of her body upon her own two legs. She gave Aponi an affectionate pat, and then stepped closer to stroke Horse's elegant nose. "What do you think, big boy?" she half cooed, in that sweet voice reserved for horses. "Would I be better off stuck with him by blood or pledge?" The delight of the realization of a dream had made Issima almost giddy, and she grinned first at the horse, and then up at her rider as the slender Drykas girl stepped around to stand at his knee. "I've had enough brothers for one lifetime. I'll masquerade as your intended bride, and you'll be forced to shower me in attention and kindness," she teased. Brothers were good to their sisters, too, she knew. But the thought of pretending such aside Sama'el made Issi uncomfortable for reasons she didn't want to explore. And so, in the name of adventure, and since her cousin need never know she'd done it, Issima chose the more exotic, the more romantic of the two options. "Perhaps we could do all three. Find a place to drop our load, to give the horses rest. Then we could grab a bite we can eat afoot, and see everything? I want to see something before we have to sleep."

[Sama'el Sunsinger]

"Very well, then, my love," he said whimsically, rolling out of his saddle like he was falling, but turning it into a sort of waterfall movement to land on his feet. He had been drilling his acrobatics to help him regain his old strength and dexterity, but his truest grace came with horses. He kissed her cheek with the cobra-strike speed of a boy stealing a kiss from the girl he admired. He took her arm in his and walked up to the gates. "But remember," he said seriously, "if anyone asks, you are a Kuvan and betrothed to Sama'el of the Watch. Some will remember me from last year, and you don't want to be mistaken for a Nakivak unless you would like to bear children for some huge Akalak warrior." He grinned then to soften the harshness of the warning. That said, he introduced himself and his would-be bride to the guards, putting them on the roles as a betrothed couple. The Akalak would envy him his beautiful, young, and probably fertile woman, but they would respect his previous claim. A more full disguise would involve Cheva marks behind their ears, but Sama'el counted it a sin to counterfeit the holy blessing of union. Then he led her into the city proper toward the place he had stayed the previous time he rode here, though then he had been on Watch business and had not had to pay out of pocket for lodging. All the same, he wanted Issima safe, feeling protective and possessive even if he only possessed her as part of their ruse. Their horses stabled, he carried their saddle bags up to the room and let her in first. There was, unfortunately, only one bed. "Don't worry," he was quick to say as soon as the door was closed. "I'll sleep on the floor." There was a more comfortable looking armchair, but he would have had to twist up strangely in it, certain to awaken with cricks in his muscles. A hard floor needn't be uncomfortable. There was a rug and his body was tired.

[Issima]

If the guards could see them from afar, the ruse would already seem convincing, if only for the playful flirtation between them. Issi lifted her fingers to press to the place where he had stolen a kiss, now dusted with pink. "Incorrigible," she teased, her fingers curling easily enough into the arm he offered. Walking so very close to him felt nice, especially as a coil of nervousness rolled inside of her stomach. The mental image of a giant blue man trying to procreate with her was an unsettling one, but Sam was warm by her side, beneath her hand. Sama'el spoke with a quiet confidence that would have calmed her, had it not been for the forthright way the guards looked at her. It wasn't leering, exactly. Not quite inappropriate, but somehow measuring. Issima decided it was her imagination run wild, and glanced elsewhere. To Sam's sleeve, where it brushed against her arm. And then they were into the city itself, the place she had dreamed of for weeks now. Not because it appealed specifically, but because it was other. Fascinating, too, a civilzation hewn into an impossible and beautiful locale. Issima was wide-eyed as they journeyed through the city, following Sam with blind trust. The sight of those enormous blue warriors was a bit more intimidating than she might have predicted, and so she tightened her hold on her keeper and walked closer to him. She didn't feel as if she might be plucked up, and she trusted Sam to keep her safe, but still. She suddenly felt so small, and helpless. "It's beautiful here," she breathed to her escort, just before they made it to the lodging. The room, even if it had only one bed, was a point of fascination for Issima, too. She finally released the death grip she had on his arm to drop onto the edge of the bed, bouncing a little. "Can you imagine, one place always? It's so strange! I like it, though," she said, dropping back to sprawl across the bed. Absently, one hand lifted to her dark hair, fingers folding into the braids there. They were tight, her favorite aunt intent upon having them last for days with no trouble. Issima had no intention of keeping them in, though. They marked her so clearly as a Drykas, at least in her imagination, and she just wanted to be Issima for a few days. She didn't think Sama'el would mind, but it suddenly occurred to her that, if they were playing at being intended, she might ask. "I would like to wear my hair down while we are here, Sama'el. Loose. Will that offend you?" Too restless to remain still for too long, Issima had already sat up and though her hand stilled, awaiting his opinion on her dark hair, she curled her legs beneath her and smiled at him. "Are you very tired? I can learn patience if you would prefer we sleep before doing other things. Am I speaking too much? I just...Oh, Sam. Thank you." Issi reached out to grasp his hand, which wasn't difficult in the small room. She squeezed it meaningfully.

[Sama'el Sunsinger]

He just laughed quietly as she marveled vociferously about the whole experience, nodding as he set their things in order. But he didn't answer any one of her questions until she wore herself out, at least for the time being, whereupon he sat down on the bed beside her and began to undo her braids for her. They were, after all, betrothed. At least that was their role to play for the rest of the trip. He had less practice at it than most; his own hair was barely long enough for braids, though Denen insisted on plaiting at least some of his hair with beads and feathers. Sam treated Issima's hair as gingerly as possible, knowing this hair was connected to her sensitive scalp and not just so many reins tangled, whose tugging would harm nobody. "This is your adventure too," he said softly, remembering how good the simple pleasure of someone's hands in one's hair could be. "You will not offend me in any case. Wear your hair how you like. Dress as you wish. We will do what you wish. I only have some business with the Drykas down at the Sanctuary. Other than that, I remain to be sure no Akalak claims you for his brood mare." He grinned a little, though he would not feel entirely at ease until they were back in Endrykas. When it was just him, he felt little fear. With her as his responsibility, that changed somewhat. "Talk as much as you like," he added. "I will not grow weary of your voice." It sounded rather like a promise.

[Issima]

Issima might have anticipated his cavalier attitude about her hair. Sam did not seem uptight, nor overly concerned with the trappings of any society. He had ambitions which were appropriate for a young Drykas, but he hardly seemed the legalistic, obsessive sort. What she did not anticipate, however, was his weight on the bed behind her, his gentle fingers against her scalp, or his soft voice so close to her ear. Issima did not like braids, and never had. Her mother had always been empathetic and some of the most pleasant memories Issi had of the woman were the hours she would spend with her head in her mothers lap, watching the firelight dance and consume the wood while her mother loosened her braids and then stroked her scalp to relieve it of the ache. It had been so comforting, so very familiar. This was like that. The braids had been too tight, and Issima did not realize how much they had pinched until Sam had released them all. Her entire scalp prickled, but not in a pleasant way. It was only his fingers against her sensitive scalp that provided consolation, relief. Issima made a little noise, something like a moan, and rolled her neck so that his fingers could reach higher. "Blasted braids," she complained breathily, damp eyes fluttering closed. Her sense of balance changed then, making her sway. Her hands sought a source of balance, and found his knees. Immediately following his permission to chatter as much as she might like, Issima fell silent. Talking would only ruin the sensation of his hands in her hair, which she obviously appreciated very much. Issima was scarcely self-indulgent, but she allowed herself a long moment of this pleasure. And then, with a regretful little sigh, she turned her head to peek up at him, close as he was in proximity. "Will you be such a generous husband, Sama'el of the Watch, or is this all the ruse of courtship?" She smiled, a sweet, sleepy sort of expression. His hands had done much to mellow her, so that even in her playful humor she seemed much at ease.

[Sama'el Sunsinger]

As he worked her hair free, he wondered how curly it would be on its own, not kinked up and curled by so long bound up. There was a certain, natural reaction he had to touching a woman and eliciting such sound, but he ignored it as best he could, even the hands on his knees. But she was teasing him again, and he smiled as he always did. Still he wondered what it would be like to make a husband's claims upon her right then and there. "I, ah... can't say for certain." He cleared his throat. "Having never been a husband before. But I like to think I would always have time to care for my wife. It wouldn't be a proper sort of marriage otherwise, would it?" He finally left her hair in a loose twist over one shoulder so it would be out of her face, then retreated a bit to sprawl over the foot of the bed. Sama'el stretched slowly and magnificently to the tune of cracking joints and a chorus of grunts and then looked over at Issima, thinking it wouldn't be so bad if she decided to stay in for the evening. They could eat, talk, go to the baths to clean the travel grit from their skin and hair, and be new people to explore Riverfall the following day. That was on difference between Endrykas and Riverfall. The tent city sometimes went through dry areas where there wasn't enough handy water for frequent bathing, so many Drykas took dirt baths, the grit of it gently abrading away impurities. Here there was always water.

[Issima]

"There seem to be all sorts of marriages," Issima replied conversationally, "all sorts of 'caring'." With her hair draped across one shoulder, as he had placed it, she lifted one hand to idly curl in the silken locks. She sat where he had left her as he reclined at the foot of the bed, young and bright with crossed legs and the flush of travel still upon her cheeks. "But you seem so earnest in everything you do, Sam. It is hard to imagine that you'd be skilled at all in any sort of deceoption." What that had to do with the previous line of thought she had no idea, but the words were out before she could even consider them. She felt sleepy, and hungry, and too cozy to do anything about either. The walls were an absolute novelty, and the enclosure felt so private, so safe, especially with her guardian lounged so closely by. "I don't know why I say such things," she observed through a yawn, reaching behind her to claim the pillow that occupied the bed. She curled about it, dusty face leaving smudges behind on the soft linen. "But you've promised to never tire of hearing it, right?" she said, twisting his words, if only a little. "Perhaps we could eat, Sam, and then rest. As much as I'd love to see everything, I'm afraid you've nearly put me to sleep playing with my hair. Now you know how to defeat me single handedly. Too much longer and I'd have been sleeping like a kitten."