A Life for a Life

[Sama'el Sunsinger]

15th Summer, 512 A.V. Sama'el's wife had spent the bulk of her pregnancy in various states of despondency. This had weighed heavily upon him, for he had tried everything he could think of to cheer her, knowing that such melancholia might harm the unborn child, or the unborn cub, the which they must protect both as penance to Oriana and because, bear or human, it would be their child. They all watched her, none quite sure how her inner pain might drive her to act. Even Sama'el, who knew her best, did not know her as well as he expected to when they had lived together for years. They kept their eyes on her, but she was not imprisoned among them. That, one might suppose, was how she managed to escape. Some animals, wild or domesticated, would flee the society of their families to die alone. Perhaps that was what had gotten into her head, but when she was nowhere to be seen for the noontide meal, Sama'el began to ask questions. When nobody had seen her, he set his empty plate aside and vaulted out of his body to race around their camp in an outward spanning spiral upon the Web that had become much more robust since he and Kavala had laid an Origin in the Sanctuary's temple. From the low-lying Web, his spirit would leap above like a fish to look down from Syna's eye until he found her. She was about a mile off, in a secluded copse of trees, but open to the sky. Her skirts were open, hiked up, her pale skin revealed, her body in distress. Sama'el was white as a ghost when he returned to his body, up and moving before he could even register the tingling of his fingers and toes as his spirit knit itself back into the entirety of his body. He grabbed Denen, more forcefully than he ought, and dragged him toward their horses. At Denen's tent, he spun the healer around, holding him by the shoulders and over-enunciating, "Get your kit." To the others, he warned, "Stay here." While Denen got his things, Sama'el called Dohaina, Aponi, and Durno. Issima's Strider seemed somehow aware of what was going on, and deigned to submit to her rider's husband's will, and Sama'el had ridden Durno in search of Denen, and trusted him as well. He didn't bother with yvas. They were Drykas, all of them. Once Denen was astride his stallion, they rode. Though Sama'el had ridden the Web while his body rode horseback before, it was unnecessary now. He knew where she was, and had followed the easiest route back. Now he was following his own spirit's trail back to her, and Denen, a horseman too, kept pace. When they came to her, Sama'el flipped off of Dohaina's back before she had come to a stop, so in sync with her that such acrobatics were safe. The Striders formed a circle around her body as if protecting her from the dangers of the Sea of Grass. Sama'el came down hard on his knees beside her, but her skin had an unhealthy pallor, her eyes were rolled back in her head, and she did not respond to him. There was blood coming out of her, too much blood, and a confused, blind little bear cub moving around before her, trying, perhaps to find her. With a choked sob, he gathered the cub to him, paying no heed to the blood and the other fluids associated with mammalian birth, getting him out of the way so Denen could save her. "Save her," he croaked, not knowing if Denen would hear him. "Save her, please. Please, Mother..." But it was anyone's guess if Oriana heard, or cared. She might even be watching with glee at the dying mother, the aggrieved father, and the helpless, hapless cub that somehow knew the hard planes of Sama'el's stomach was not the same as the welcoming curves of his mother.

[Denen Sunsinger]

Denen could not remember ever having been grabbed thus by Sama'el. From the first day they met, Sam had been gentle and careful, as if afraid he would break Denen. The sudden grasp of powerful hands on his arms startled him, especially given their location, and he had to catch himself from crying out in surprise. Needless to say, when he was torn forcefully from his work, his eyes locked upon Sam's lips, and he didn't even consider arguing. He could see the urgency in Sam's face, could feel it in the roughness of his hands, and he complied without thinking twice. Like Sam, Denen had done what he could to keep watch over Issima after the mess with the bear. He'd been deeply disturbed by the story, reminded of legends he had been told as a little boy. Of course, he hadn't imagined that such a thing would actually happen, and prayed valiantly that it would be only a hollow threat, that the goddess would have the decency to not bring harm upon an innocent life. It wasn't that Denen didn't believe in penance. He was, on the contrary, a devout man. There were, however, fears of what this punishment would do to Sama'el's young bride. Robbed of her baby and compelled to carry a creature. There were limits that people had, after all. His own had been tested, and his faith had been rewarded, but he worried that Issima would not be able to handle this. The punishment, after all, was not just delivered to the wrongdoer, but to the innocent as well. That struck deeply with him and perturbed him. But it was not his place to vocalize this concern, and as he was attempting to keep Issima and Sama'el's spirits lifted, he forced a smile and made himself as pleasant and amiable as was possible. But here he was, being dragged along after Sam, and his hands were surprisingly steady as they gathered together his kit. It was a matter of seconds before he was ready, and once he was, he followed Sam to the horses. He had allowed himself the mask of sternness that came with an event such as this. Whatever it was that had disturbed Sam so would be clear soon enough. He simply hoped he was prepared well enough for what lay ahead, and silently prayed that it didn't have anything to do with Issima. He settled against Durno's back, and the stallion snorted in recognition. He tossed his fine head and followed eagerly after Dohaina and Aponi. He was young, after all, and though male, Dohaina ruled the roost. Denen tightened his knees about the Strider's sides to encourage his speed, lifting his seat as he did so to keep from being unpleasantly jostled. The horses pounded across the grass, led by the young Ankal. He was nowhere near as acrobatic as Sam, but he dismounted in a hurry, even before the dust had settled about Durno's hooves. His feet did not rest more than a second before he was after Sam, and to his knees alongside the woman's listless form. The pack met the grass, and he flipped it open immediately. Quick, keen eyes took in what they could, and immediately, his heart sank. Denen had spent his life in houses of healing. He knew a lost cause when he saw one, and he could easily tell a soul that had passed from this realm to the Web, even while the body still showed faint signs of life. Still, this was Sam's bride. His first wife. Hadn't Sam lost enough already? He focused himself a moment and his Mark glowed brilliantly. His slender hand rested against her belly while the other sought about for bandages. Gods, she was too far gone, and he knew it. Yanking his tunic off, he thrust it at Sam. “Wrap it and cl-clean it.” He meant the cub, and he hoped Sam would have sense enough to understand that. He needed to focus Sam on something other than his dying wife. His brow creased, dark hair falling into his face as he lifted her hips up and braced them on his knees. His stomach had tightened, and he fought back the urge to pull away as he pushed bandaging between them to staunch the flow of blood for the seconds he would need to thread a needle. But he could feel, even as blessed Rak'keli's Mark worked at her hurt, that this was an injury beyond him. The soft, trembling sigh that left her lips, and the sudden, absolute stillness caused him to draw back his hands and gently lower her to the earth, giving her the modesty she deserved. The dignity this birth had robbed her of. The needle was forsaken, and he pushed himself to his feet. His hands were covered in her blood. Denen felt bile creeping up the back of his throat as his head bowed and he whispered a quiet prayer, first to bid farewell to the young woman, and then to thank Rak'keli for at least allowing the cub to live.

[Sama'el Sunsinger]

Too emotional to argue, he took Denen's tunic and began to wipe the infant cub clean. A mother bear would likely lick away the effluvia of birth, but he was not so far gone as to try that, knowing it would likely make him sick. But he did what he could, knowing he would do the rest when he was able, and there was something so vulnerable about the slick, blind creature, that he understood a paternal bond even if Oriana had changed his species. It was a boy, he saw, or a male cub. An heir. When Denen stood up, though, he realized something was wrong. "No." He scrabbled up to Issima's body. "No, no, no, no, no! Issima..." But with his back to Denen, his friend could not see his mouth shape the syllables of pleading, or commanding, of her secret name that he only whispered to her on the darkest of nights under covers and in their tent. But he could not keep her when Dira claimed her. He could not make her stay. He screamed, frightening the newborn, and pounded his fist upon the ground beside Issima's head over and over again. Somehow, though, the arm that held the newborn was tender and gentle despite the violence flowing through the rest of him.

[Denen Sunsinger]

He screamed, frightening the newborn, and pounded his fist upon the ground beside Issima's head over and over again. Somehow, though, the arm that held the newborn was tender and gentle despite the violence flowing through the rest of him. He knew he needed to check the cub. Animal or not, this was Sam's child, and it was his job to make sure the infant was healthy. He grit his teeth as Sam shouldered past him, knowing better than to try and pry the poor man from his wife. Still, he knelt down next to him, and gingerly reached for the cub. “S-Sam,” he coaxed, soft, awkward voice shaking. “Let m-me...” But if he was refused, he would not push the matter. Not yet. Gods, he'd let Sam down. He had been too late. He didn't have to see Sam's face to feel the vibrations. He held his breath and took a step back. It wasn't right for him to intrude upon this, whether or not he was Sam's lover. When Issima had been laid out, he would cradle Sam's head and whisper reassurances to him, but for now, he kept back, waiting for the cub to be placed in his bloody hands. In truth, he was frightened. Sam's roughness lingered, and he did not wish to feel the anger that surged through his Ankal's frame unintentionally directed at himself. He wanted to apologize. To plead with Sam to forgive him, but Denen knew, despite his guilt, that she had been beyond him by the time they arrived. Still, gods, it burned.

[Sama'el Sunsinger]

Sama'el was torn between grief for Issima and joy for the cub, who was his whether in this shape or any other. He was torn between violence and tenderness, and then there was Denen, the horses, who seemed a bit spooked by his display, and all the people back at the Sanctuary who depended on him. This was too much, but the Great Mother had warned him. He just didn't understand why the innocent were punished for his transgression. If he had not killed that drowsing bear, Issima would have died earlier, their son still unborn. And Denen and Leto, Ronan and Sandar, the horses too. He did not understand why the burden of penance was so weighty; he wanted to, but he could not. When Denen tugged at him, he knew he should have handed over the cub, but he didn't want to be remiss in his paternal duties. Trying to decide what to do while surfing the tide of his emotions, he pulled Denen to him, the cub cradled, squirming between them as he sobbed on his shoulder. There were blubbered words, but it was perhaps best Denen couldn't hear them. Perhaps it would fall to Denen to remind him of Issima's dignity, that she must be laid out for the animals and the elements to reclaim her mortal shell while her spirit walked the Web and found reincarnation.

[Denen Sunsinger]

Denen knew keenly the agony of loss. He recalled, too, how Sama'el had coaxed him through the darkness of such a robbery. While Reth was no wife, a Strider was bonded, and to the Drykas to whom they belonged, part of the soul. And then, atop of this, he had mourned Sama'el as dead. That was not something he could readily forget, even though he had been blessed with his return. He knew how dearly Sam would need him there. He allowed Sam to tug him close, and wound a thin arm about his friend's shoulders. His face tucked against his neck, and he allowed comforting vibrations to resonate in his face and chest, while his free hand gently felt the squirming cub over. He needed to be sure it was all right. After a moment, the second arm slipped about Sam's shoulders, and he kissed his cheek gently. He lifted a trembling, bloody hand and cupped Sam's head to his shoulder. His body rocked, as if to comfort a screaming child. He had to remain strong. He had to comfort Sam and support him. If it was Sam's duty to protect them all, this was his. Chevas mark or not, he was bound to Sama'el. “S-Sam,” he prompted gently. “L-Let me...hold him. You...m-must carry her. She must...She must be prepared t-to...move on. She...c-cannot...be left like this.” The words were difficult, but necessary.

[Sama'el Sunsinger]

Sama'el kissed his hand, blood smearing, and placed it on the cub's head in a benediction, ceding him for the moment to Denen so he could will himself to proper action. He struggled up on weak legs and scooped up his wife's still warm body. She seemed so light he had to bite back his voice, else the Akalak might come with weapons bared for all the ruckus within him. Aponi's eyes were rolling, hooves stamping, clearly aware of what was wrong and just as clearly upset. Sama'el waited, almost cooing to the agitated stallion until he nuzzled his dead rider's hair, then let his head hang low. With a heavy sigh, Sama'el said a word and the stallion knelt that he might mount without undue effort. Dohaina and Durno whickered comfortingly, as if they too understood, commiserating, and they waited for Denen to mount his own Strider. Then they traveled, silent tears streaking their way down his face so hard and acidic that the sockets of his eyes ached and his cheeks burned. Several miles blurred past until he found the perfect spot, high and rocky, overlooking the Suvan Sea, but also with a view of the Sea of Grass. There he dismounted after another reverent kneel from Issima's bereaved stallion, leaning her pale, beautiful body up against a twisted cypress tree, arranging her with tenderness and care. Her body would feed the intrepid tree and any scavengers bold enough and fortunate enough to find her here. Her substance would return to the Sea of Grass, except for the little that might find its way into the salt water to travel as she had always wanted to do. He closed her eyes, kissed them, and stepped back, shaking. "Compassionate Dira," he murmured to the psychopomp, "take her to your bosom. Let her return to her people in due time. Oriana, Blessed Mother, see how your daughter has paid for my crime."

[Denen Sunsinger]

What more could he do but stand, silent, as his friend bid farewell to his young bride? Denen had seen loss in his young life. It was part of the Drykas way. But that did not make it any less painful to see those who were close to him suffering. Sam had lost so much already. Sam had suffered more than any deserved. Bitterness rose in the back of his mouth like bile, and as Sam trembled, Denen drew near him and slipped his slender fingers about a broad hand. He kept the cub cradled close to his bare chest. He would act, as far as Sam would allow, as mother to the poor thing. "W-We will m-mourn her," he offered gently. "She will...She will r-return some day." But the words seemed useless. What comfort was rebirth in the face of such pain?

[Mist]

Thread Grading! Sama'el XP/Skills: +2 Leadership, +1 Webbing Lore: Noticing the absence of a wife, My son the bear, Losing Issima to Dira, Gaining a son from Kihala, Laying Issima to rest, Item/ Consequences: N/A Additional Notes: An interesting thread, obviously a character development point. I found the whole thing with the cub baby interesting. It made me want to read on Oriana again. Though also kind of made a twisted sense, since she is the Goddess of both bears and parenthood, which were both combined in the odd punishment she laid down. * *** * Denen Sunsinger XP/Skills: +1 Observation, +2 Persuasion, +1 Rhetoric, +1 Riding Lore: A grab of desperation, Not giving up even when its hopeless, Being to late, Feeling bad even when there was nothing you could do, Balance of Life: One to Dira and one from Kihala Item/ Consequences: N/A Additional Notes: Uhm, I just noticed, but you have rhetoric as a skill twice, one at 2 pts, another at 8 pts. Not sure what that is about, but it needs to be fixed, or combined, or whatever. Any who, besides that, a good thread. It is always hard to convey emotion in text, especially when it is such a hyped up moment IC. -If you have any questions about the grade, don’t hesitate to PM me.