Quest The fires of grief prevail (Phoenix)

[Faera Amakara]

73rd of Summer 512 Faera's mind had been occupied for days - beginning with her trip to the Archery range just a few days prior. They had been the days leading up to the one day a year that she both dreaded and cherished. Faera's mind wandered even now as her feet tread over the rocky ground leading away from Mt. Skyinarta and towards the Tomb of the Fallen - the volcanic crater where 13 years earlier, her parent's bodies had been incinerated. Absent though her mind was on the physical aspect of travelling, her feet never faltered - having travelled this path many times. Three days prior had been the exact anniversary of her parent's death - she always went to the ranges on the anniversary dates to relieve her mind, to empty it in preparation for the journey she was taking today. Her father had been an excellent archer. Holding his bow in her hands somehow made her feel like he was still with her - perhaps watching over her smiling as she practiced and continually improved her marksmanship. Her mind shot to a brief image of her father standing strong and tall, his powerful arms pulling on the bow and releasing arrow after arrow - never missing his target. She has been but 6 when they had passed on, but her memory was sharp, even with events that had happened at such a young age. She wondered if even now they were watching, smiling upon her. She had not become Endal like them - and she wondered if that disappointed them. She often felt out of place among the Avora, being skilled at falconry and hunting rather than glassworking or another trade. In truth she could not call any one person her friend. Mostly they avoided the sad, lonely, Avora girl who grew up with stories of her famous dead parent's swirling around her in hushed whispers. Her feet tread slowly but surely onward. Her hands held a large bouquet of wildflowers, just freshly picked and a single arrow with a single feather that Kiimra, her pet Osprey, allowed her to have attached to the shaft and fluttering slightly in the warm breeze of the Summer air. The flowers were her tribute to her mother, who had adored wildflowers. The arrow, her father's tribute. The thought returned - would they be proud of who she had become?

[Phoenix]

The heat that rolled in waves from the vent of the volcano was unbelievable; getting too close would mean the flesh could possibly melt straight off ones face. Ever since Ivak escaped, the Inartan burial grounds were far more dangerous than ever.

A cluster of gingers lingered as far from the pit of bubbling lava as they could. The flat space that had formally surrounded the vent had warped and twisted in the Spring 512 eruption; hardened hills of lava rose everywhere, deep pits and broken, crumbling ledges made other spots equally as unmanageable.

This left one large section left for the mourners to gather. Faera wouldn't find herself far from the group that had gathered before her arrival. With their heads together, it was impossible to see their faces or hear what was being said. Above, a pair of eagles circled just high enough that they were visible only as dark specks.

It happened very quickly: there was a sudden shout and a violent movement from within the huddled group. A tick or two later, a pair of men detatched themselves from the mourners, all of him straightened with shocked looks on their faces as the males grappled at each other, shouting indistinguishably and stumbling about. Clearly, they were having a disagreement.

But the argument was swiftly taking the two towards the open vent. The pair should have felt the increase of heat, but perhaps they didn't care... Either way, if the fight wasn't stopped, one or the other would topple into the molten lava.

[Faera Amakara]

Faera took in her surroundings very quickly as she reached the tomb - noticing the changes that had been caused to the area and knowing immediately that the area was far more dangerous than she had anticipated. She noticed the group of gatherers and headed in their direction.. She would have preferred to be alone in her hour of tribute but the group, by their placement away from the vent, at least provided information about what location was safe. As she moved, two men broke from the group, physically entangled in some arguement. Faera noticed their disagreement was taking them away from the area of safety and towards a more dangerous one. "What the...." she said aloud, as no one in the group seemed to be concerned about the men's movements - perhaps in fear of getting to close themselves to the precarious areas. "Hey!" she shouted, for she was still a few measures away from the the group, "Someone stop them!" But no one moved to help. Faera began to jog towards the group, someone had to stop the men! Her mind began to race and she dropped the wildflowers as she ran. Throwing herself at the men would only push them further towards the lava and her momentum might carry her own self into the molten stream. No, what she needed to do was catch their attention - long enough to stop their movement and bring them back to their senses, which they had obviously lost in the arguement. Faera clutched the arrow in her fist as she grew closer to the men. She could feel the heat blistering her skin like a bad sunburn and knew if they all didn't get away from the heat soon, their flesh would begin to peel and melt away. Raising her fist above her head she stabbed the arrow into one of the men's forearms, who were not paying her any attention at all, and used her momentum in a spinning motion to hurl herself away from the men. Now running in the opposite direction, she looked over her shoulder to see if the man's injury had caused him pause. In truth she hoped his anger would lead him to chase her, for if the arrow to the arm had not gotten his attention, then she was now too far away to help anymore.

[Phoenix]

Neither of the men noticed as the young woman pelted towards them, the arrow that was meant to be a tribute clenched in her fist. Faera's effort was not wasted, her stab striking true, the sharp arrowhead slicing easily though the weather toughened skin and burying deep into the muscle.

Of course, the now injured man's first and only reaction was to roar in pain, yanking his arm away from the source of this new attack and spinning to face the unseen enemy. His brother, the one with his back to the lava, took advantage of this distraction and took a swing at the back of the injured man's arm. "Ha, Gotcha, Jaq, you idiot." The coarse laughter was swallowed by a roar of anger and pain.

"Kell, you PETCHING SON OF A-!" Taking the arrow by the shaft, Jaq ripped the head from his flesh and flung it towards the open vent of the volcano. Huffing and puffing, a halfhearted jab was sent towards Kell's head, Jaq's eyes still searching for the source of the arrow.

Faera would hear a guttural yell from behind her when she was spotted, one that gave no doubt of a pursuit. It was only a few moments before Jaq caught the young woman, his superior strength and size working to his advantage here. With another angry yell, a meaty, blood soaked hand was extended, fingers grasping and catching hold of a hunk of the woman's hair. A sharp jerk brought Faera not only to a halt, but sailing backwards, only Jaq's hold on her keeping her from crashing to the ground.

With a satisfied growl, the big man tighetened his grip and spun the girl around to face him, bright green eyes mad with what could only be grief. But grief went only so far, and had morphed into mindless rage during the scuffle with his brother. Jaq couldn't comprehend that perhaps the girl had only been trying to help. She had hurt him, embarrassed him. She had to pay.

"What do you think you're doing, whore?" Jaq's voice was hoarse with rage as he pulled Faera up closer to his face; since he towered over the young woman, she was left to balance on her tiptoes. "What was the meaning of that? You realize you're going to pay..." A sharp jerk of her hair as Jaq bared down harder upon her. "...Right?"

Talk him down. The voice that slipped into her mind, echoing slightly and overcoming all her own thoughts, was very familiar, though Faera couldn't put her finger on why. Reason will win this. Use your brain.

[Faera Amakara]

Faera ran as hard as she could, but she wasn't fast enough for the man in pursuit of her. She hadn't really thought through the entire plan, acting on impulse rather than insight, and any opportunity for planning came to a grinding halt as she was yanked backwards by her hair hard enough to make tears spring instantly to her liquid gold eyes. Then suddenly she was spun and facing the man who had received the bite of her arrow. His eyes were blazing in rage and....grief? The faint metallic odor of blood clung to him. He sneered at her and spat, "What do you think you're doing, whore? What was the meaning of that? You realize you're going to pay......Right?" He jerked her hair as he spoke to punctuate his meaning. "Petch. Now what?" Faera thought. Suddenly a voice crept through her mind - distinctive and familiar yet somehow unrecognizable, but very much not of her own mind. Talk him down. Reason will win this. Use your brain. "Sir!" Faera gasped through the pain in her scalp, she spoke hurridley, trying to get out her reasoning before he decided it wasn't worth hearing. "I'm sorry. I saw you and the other gentleman getting too close to the heat and I was only trying to get your attention." She took one deep breath to build up courage before she continued, "Would you rather I have let you and he both die? If you must continue your quarrel, please, Sir, continue - but don't risk your life over it." She paused a moment, then said softly almost to herself yet loud enough still to be heard, "Have not enough bodies been thrown to the lava?"

[Phoenix]

Good... The soothing voice drifted in between Faera’s own thoughts once more, a soft and gentle encouragement. The young woman, trapped as she was by the angry man’s big hands, would nonetheless feel heartened by the disembodied voice. She had heard this voice before. She knew it… but it had been a very long time since it had spoken to her.

“So you think to ‘get my attention’,” Jaq piqued his voice in a poor imitation of Faera’s own voice, “you would stab a petching arrow into my arm, eh?” Those empty eyes continued to glare down at her, a miracle in and of itself that he could hear a word she was saying through his anger. Men.

“What makes you think a...a Dek Licker like you has any right to tell me what to do?” The growl was hoarse, as if Jaq had been screaming, but the grip on Faera’s hair had loosened a bit. Kell cleared his throat from behind his brother and that seemed to calm Jaq further, despite the fact that Kell was with whom he had been fighting. However, the man seemed unable to simply back down. Perhaps it was a pride thing, or just idiocy, but either way Faera was quickly yanked by her hair, enough to put her off balane before she was shoved bodily away from the big man and sent tumbling to the rough stone.

“I don’t like to hit girls, but it seems like I might have to teach you a lesson…. No, Kell, try and stop me and I’ll throw you in the petching lava.” Jaq held up a hand to stave his brother off, who had stepped forward with a sound of outrage at his brother’s challenge.

Satisfied that his brother was placated for the moment, Jaq turned back to Faera and spread his feet shoulder width apart, raising a brow with a condescending smirk twisting his lips. “Well, girl? Come at me.” And he opened his arms as if to welcome her into an embrace.

The voice that hade given Faera advice before was silence, but the young Inarta would be able to feel the presence weighting heavily in her mind as if whoever it was sat watching and waiting to see what she would do.

[Faera Amakara]

OOC: I just got Fae's Priskil gnosis approved, this post reflects that, just FYI. _____________________________________________________________________________ “What makes you think a...a Dek Licker like you has any right to tell me what to do?” Faera gulped, her words didn't seem to have any effect other than to make the man angrier - if that was possible. And truly, what right did she have? She had no answer for that. Only that it had seemed the right thing to do at the time, now she wasn't so sure. She was roughly tossed back and challenged. Now what?, Faera thought. There were no soothing words this time floating through her mind. Wonderful. She let out a heavy breath of air - she had gotten herself into this mess, she supposed she would have to get herself out of it. The problem was, she was completely unarmed, and very much at a sizable disadvantage in this confrontation. The man would simply crush her. Faera's gaze flicked to the man called Kell who had protested a moment ago against the challenge. Perhaps he'd step in? Faera doubted it. It seemed this man in front of her had some kind of authority over Kell. Or perhaps Kell was simply frightened of him - and perhaps rightly so. Faera's gaze drifted back to the man in front of her. It was as if all time was in a standstill, he waiting for her move, she deciding what to do, Kell rooted in stone, and the familiar voice now oddly silent. Her fingers flexed into and out of fists - Faera unaware of the soft glow of light streaming from her palms, finally held them up in surrender. It would do no good to fight this man. "You seem bent on engaging in a quarrel, Sir, but you won't find one with me." she said.

[Phoenix]

From where she perched, unseen, on an outcropping of stone high above where the young woman faced off against two men twice her size, Amakara watched with those keen golden eyes; not a movement was missed, and all the words that passed between the opposing parties easily reached her ears. But what was she waiting for? The girl was clearly in trouble. A few of the Wind Eagles who patrolled the skies above the burial grounds tossed an inquiry at the perched bird, but Amakara turned them all away with just a couple words. It is her test.

Below, Jaq and Kell continued to be belligerent, advancing to the point where Faera had no choice but to either run or stand with her back pressed against the too-warm stone. The Tomb of the Fallen wasn’t meant to be an all day hang out; the heat was intense and within a bell, individuals would start feeling the effects of the increased temperature.

Whether or not Faera realized this was a different matter all together; as the two men faced off against her, Kell seeming to have decided to take his brothers side, the young woman’s head started to swim, her limbs beginning to feel shaky and weak, and it seemed the heat was only making Jaq angrier as well. This was not going to end well.

“I’LL FIND A QUARREL WHERE EVER I PETCHING WELL PLEASE!” The roar cracked through the steamy air with suddenness that even made Kell jump, breaking the silence that had stretched between them for so long. As the yell morphed into unintelligible sounds rather than words, Jaq lunged forwards and made a grasping motion for the girl he had backed against the wall.

Amakara didn’t waste a single tick, talons digging divots into the stone as she launched herself into the air, wings tucked down against her size as she fell into a dive. Like an arrow from a bow, the Wind Eagle sped towards the lunging man, wings flaring wide as she pulled out of her dive, the buffet of wind enough to send Jaq cartwheeling through the air to land sprawling on the stone a dozen feet away. Without a word, Amakara used the momentum remaining from her dive to propel herself back into the air, disappearing behind another outcropping of stone before Faera could really get a good look.

Kell had retreated quickly back to the group of mourners from whence he and his brother originally came- all of whom didn’t seem to notice any of what had gone down. Jaq moaned and floundered on the ground, his arm bent at a grotesque angle beneath him, his good arm uplifted in a plea when he saw Faera looking in his direction.