[Various Locations]Riders of the Storm - Aren [CLOSED]

[Meera]

"No, I know you are not Semele, not stupid, Aren..." Meera mumbled behind him, half-laughing at the prospect. Meera could have explained why she thought Aren was Zulrav, but then that would be much more effort than Meera was willing to invest in a theory.
"Semele's too pretty to be you." She jested, jabbing at Aren's ego and pride. His mother was... what was it, again, Emphrean?

In a flash she was in the Kulkukan, and being whisked up the stairs she had a small chance to take at look at the interior. That Nys Akalak, Aren's friend, was cleaning up. She waved with her poor hand, but he didn't seem to see.

All but thrown into Aren's room, she was victim to a spinning head of many jumbled thoughts, so when Aren locked the door and inquired about the weather, Meera could not truly piece together his motives.

"Seems windy," She smiled back. Should she kneel, or bow or do something? He was a god of wind, he must be. There was no way Aren would use djed if he knew how, after a djed storm...

Meera untangled her hand from his and took a seat on the edge of his bed. For a woman who had never been invited into a man's room, one would think she would be nervous about the potential situation she found herself in. Meera's muscles did not bow or shiver in nervousness, for though she was formally educated on the act, she had no notion of protocol or any method of courting, and being in the room with Aren was not something that made her uncomfortable. She had spent most of her life sharing a tent with a man twenty years older than her. Being alone with older men was so common in her life, one would be surprised to know she had no previous relations.
Idly as though bored she adjusted her braids, loose and far from perfection. She almost prefered her hair in messy braids. It suited her more. Meera chewed her lip as she looked up to Aren, wondering what the next course of action was. She should go and see her black-and-tan, but something told her deep inside that her horse was perfectly fine.

[Aren]

"Djed storms, huh? Weird," Aren didn't really know what to say, but he was certainly content that Meera didn't seem to be too insistent on discussing the topic to much extent. As the akalak leaned against the door, though, the situation suddenly struck him. The drykas was in his room, behind a locked door, and she didn't look like she wanted to leave. In fact, it almost seemed like she was waiting on him. Aren smiled, as he looked away, eyes scanning the floor. He wanted to kiss her, to hold her in his arms, but something held him back. He knew if this relationship was to proceed even one more inch forward, there were some things she needed to be made aware of. He also knew, however, that revelation of these things could permanently drive her from him. Aren steeled himself, realizing that he owed Meera the whole story, and that he would simply have to trust her to understand. "We have to talk," he said, taking a deep breath, thinking that this was as good a time as any to do it. His tone of voice was of a somber mood, however, and his eyes looked deep into the drykas own, so she knew it was not going to be just a casual conversation. The akalak's body language hinted at a sense of trepidation, revealing that the subject was of a delicate nature, and one he wasn't certain on how to broach. "I..." he started, almost dreading the next words that were about to come out of his mouth.

[Meera]

Meera's head cocked to the side. It was apparent that Aren was nervous, but for the life of her couldn't figure out why.

"We need to talk?" She repeated, her voice displaying her slight confusion. Was he going to admit to being Zulrav? Meera crossed her legs, draping her hands over her knee. Something about the hesitation he had in his voice, the trepidation...

"Everything alright?" Meera stood and approached Aren, her eyes a vision of concern. She didn't like the way he was talking to her. Her stomach felt up in a knot as her hands reached to his arms, giving him a reassuring touch over his scar. Why would she be so suddenly concerned about him? Gods, why did her stomach hurt so much? Was it because he was in some sense of pain? Ugh.

[Aren]

Aren hated to see her so concerned, especially over him, but he couldn't back out now. If he didn't tell her here, he might never again find the right moment. "I... did create that blast of wind," he said, mentally berating himself for being so weak. The thought of losing her over something he had no control over was almost more than he could bear. "It's called reimancy, the control of the elements," he explained, hating himself all the while for being so selfish. Aren had wanted to keep her away from magic, but now he was using it as a shield to hide what he really wanted to say. He pried himself lose from her touch, pacing around the room in an attempt to come to grips with himself. Eventually, he sat down on his bed, realizing that he simply didn't have the strength to take the risk of telling her about his darker nature. Or rather, about the danger it represented. He knew he needed to, but he just couldn't. Every time he thought about what her reaction might be, his throat threatened to collapse upon itself. "I didn't realize the storm would affect me even after it had passed," the akalak admitted, unable to grin or chuckle. It was a sketchy dodge, but it made sense, given the context. It helped that it was all true, as well, lending credence to the lie of omission. Seros smiled, in the back of his mind, at his brother's weakness when it came to this girl.

[Meera]

"So no Zulrav?" Meera said slowly, immensely relieved that the God of Wind did not grow an attraction to the young human girl. Though she was more upset than she would let on, the relief over Aren being Aren, especially after hearing Aren may not be Aren when they were traveling was a major relief, and lessened her anger over the wind.

"Is better than feared," Meera said before she sat down beside Aren. "You just silly, is all." Meera smiled. She didn't understand... reimancy, or the basics of Djed, but she knew it sounded dangerous and stupid to use. She imagined his use of it to be similiar to watering crops after a rain.

"Why use djed after storm? Sounds like bad idea, is why I upset." She smirked to show her teased, leaning her face to plant a small kiss on his shoulder - what she could reach.
"Djed... destroys self, yes?" She asked, the uncertainty obvious in her voice.
"Do not want you destroyed for battle." She could see how reimancy would have its uses. If she ran out of flint and needed a fire, or maybe sending a jolt of electricity to enhance sensations. Meera leaned her head against his upper arm, finding the bed incredibly comfortable. The basement had been cold and hard, and here in the inn the room was warm, the mattress soft and feathery. Even just sitting on it releived tension in her back. The blonde made a small noise of contentment.

"Do not destroy yourself. Please," She made her small demand. "Like you way you are, Aren."

[Aren]

"Don't worry," Aren kissed the top of her head affectionately, unable to explain that he wasn't actually destroying himself when he used reimancy, although the potential was definitively there. "I don't think battle will be what destroys me," the akalak whispered, cryptically. Aren bit down on his lip unconsciously, his mind preoccupied by what had he had just failed to do, out of sheer selfishness. He wrapped his arms around the drykas and simply held her, as if he had come within a razor's edge of losing her. Biting his lip so hard that he drew blood, the akalak realized that his lie was an immensely self-serving one, and he was disgusted at himself for having perpetrated it. Even so, he couldn't bring himself to confess. The risk was too great, or so Aren convinced himself. The only thing left to do was push it to the back of his mind, and hope he'd never have to explain. Of course, chances were that if the day ever came when he did have to explain himself, he'd be having the conversation with the drykas' corpse shortly after his own hands had robbed it of life. That thought haunted Aren more than any other, and he squeezed the girl in his arms tightly, as if the action would ward off the danger. The truth was that she would only ever be safe if she stayed away from him, but despite however much he wanted to tell her that, the words would not form in his mouth. When it came to Meera, Aren was weak, and he knew it.

[Meera]

She smiled at his implication, suggesting she would be responsible for his destruction. She liked that perception, that opinion of herself. Maybe she would destroy him, rend him limb from limb. He certainly caused enough stomach and head aches to warrant a savage beating from the young woman, but she would settle for a kiss on the top of her blonde hair as though it were compensation. He held her close, and would have squished the life out of her had she not struggled to warn him.

"Too strong," She laughed. "Am too small for you." It wasn't a jest made to injure, and she hoped her smile would tell him that much. She stood from his side, their change in height now more conducive to her goal. Her hands rested on his shoulders after she had turned to face him and she kissed him. Her fingers trailed upwards into his hair, her thumbs brushing along the strong, square cut jaw.

She pulled back and made a fist with her bad hand, to lightly thump his chest in a weak punch.
"Will destroy you if not careful," Again she smiled like a fool, tilting her head to the side to kiss him again. "Am powerful, strong, dangerous." She whispered against him. What was this sudden surge of self-confidence? Why did kissing him quell the build up of anxiety she felt? Was this what... love was? Ugh, she thought to herself. Love was sappy, vulnerable, and Meera was certainly not vulnerable. She was impenetrable, impregnable, a fortess secure.

Meera had to concede, as she took another kiss, that perhaps she wasn't as strong as she had once been. Aren made her weak in all senses of the word. His presence had made her ill to the point of purging, it had made her sad, confused, happy, exhilarated, alive, depressed. It made her so many things at once. Maybe it wasn't love, but it certainly was not platonic.

[Aren]

He forced himself to release her, as the girl struggled in his grip. He had wanted to hold her for just a little while longer, but the drykas had other plans. As Meera's flesh touched his own, Aren felt his strength evaporating. When their lips met, his ability to think clearly became muddled, for some reason. He didn't quite understand how that was possible, but he was starting to get an idea of why. "Perhaps..." he uttered, after her last kiss, "...that's exactly what you might need to do," Aren wasn't joking here. He was smiling, but it was a grin of deadly purpose, as if an insane thought had just invaded his mind. He wouldn't need to tell her about his Other if she could simply defend herself against him, the akalak realized. "I'm going to teach you... how to kill me," he blurted, not quite sure what to make of the idea. Yes, he was physically stronger than her, and yes, his skills in combat made him a formidable opponent. Even the greatest warrior had a weakness, however, and he was certainly no such thing. All the akalak had to do was teach her to exploit any number of fatal weak points he possessed. Of course, he had to conceal the purpose of these instructions as best he could, lest the drykas start to suspect their true meaning. "I mean, if you can beat me... you definitively won't be able to call yourself weak, anymore," Aren smiled, rather pleased by his ridiculous notion. "What do you say?" he asked, hoping Meera was receptive to the idea.

[Meera]

"What...?!" Meera said, shocked very obviously to the point were she thought she had gone insane.

"Could not kill, no, no..." She stuttered as she stood up, her eyes falling to the floor, and her hands flying to her mouth for her to chew on the nail. She viciously shook her head 'no,' almost laughing at the idea that a nineteen year old orphan without windmark could fell an Akalak. Akalaks were warriors, Drykas were riders. The only way she could hope to beat him was in a horse race.

"How could I ever imagine to kill you?" She stared incredulously at him. "Sure, fine," She said, still shaking her head in disbelief. "Teach me to beat you." There was a reason why her request did not specify kill, however, and it was because she knew deep down she would never be able to take a life. An animal was one thing, but a person was a totally other field.

"Maybe I teach you to ride horse, so you could beat me too. Am ... not vulnerable to any other assault. Much too strong." She laughed. She would not be without one final kiss, however, and she took it, a chaste thing, across his lips.

[Aren]

Aren could feel Seros' intense dislike for this notion, in the back of his mind, leading him to believe that he was on the right track. "I hope that when she stabs you in the back, it takes a while for you to bleed out, just so I can say I told you so before we BOTH die!" the akalak's darker personality simply could not restrain himself from voicing his objection to what he regarded as the most moronic idea in the long and storied history of his brother's moronic ideas. Aren just smiled as Seros ranted in his head, now more determined than ever to go through with it. "Good. We'll start tomorrow," he informed the drykas, confident that this was going to work. It would take a while, sure, but since what he was going to teach her was very specific, it wouldn't require the amount of time more general training usually did. "Yeah, we'll work on that," the akalak said after her kiss, all but dismissing her suggestion that he be taught how to ride. That, he thought, was just not going to happen. Not only did he not want to learn how to ride, but that inability would be a great advantage to Meera if she ever needed to get away from him. "Hopefully, the gardens didn't suffer too badly in the storm," Aren mused, as that would be the best place these lessons could take place in.