Closed Red Dust (Kalesse)

[Gideon]

83rd of Summer, 512 AV The blistered earth swelled and collapsed in sluggish waves of gilded sand, gentle winds pushing them ever so slowly across the barren landscape. Here Syna’s kiss was death, and the heat that rose from the dust singed those fool enough to expose their skin. The sky was an unyielding blue that fell from the heavens like a still pool of water, lost to the horizon in every direction the eye turned. Only the blazing white star broke its vastness, and the goddesses touch was unwieldy. A trail of footsteps stretched on for miles in a place that held no landmark, wind and gravity showing a lack of urgency in covering the imbalance they brought to the pristine landscape. This was a hell where few tread, and even those built to withstand its relentlessness knew better than to waste the energy while the sun remained in the sky. But one man’s impetuous daring had brought him out to test his luck, and only through Syna's will would he be denied. Sweat dribbled down the loosely clothed spine of Gideon’s muscled skin in sweet relief, stimulating his taxed nerves and soaking into the waistline of his cotton white trousers. A checkered blue and white keffiyeh was pulled up over his scalp and across his nose and mouth to ward off the oppressive rays of heat as well as any errant gusts of sand-swept air. It was a blessing to have such a gift of cloth, as what little wind was offered seemed to catch in its fabric and ease the wroth of his skin. He was mercifully pointed away from the sun so that his beryl eyes could see, the heat building in great tanks of energy against his back. Ahead lay a valley still concealed from sight, the dune buckling and disappearing into oblivion before rising again miles off into the distance. If it wasn’t the destination he’d been hoping for, Gideon would likely find himself wasting hours circumnavigating it, or taking a risk and hiking straight through. A valley this large usually meant some form of life could be found, and more often than not, that life was inhospitable to his very existence. Resources in this land were defended tooth and nail by creatures small and large, even if it was just over a spot of shade to rest one’s tired feet. Gideon did not relish taking life, but his body bore the scars to prove that he was no stranger to it. His very existence by that reckoning seemed almost mythical. With bated breath his hands tightened into balled fists as the great divide grew near, the worn tiredness of his eyes sparkling to life as his eyes crested the lip into the valley. Beneath him lay a dark river of red groves, the afternoon sun touching only those that were furthest across the valley. The keerdash tree was a sacred plant to those of the Red Crow, its roots known to possess what little moisture could be found in such a desolate wasteland. A sudden spring in the desert traveler’s step had him recklessly bounding down the side of the dune in a descent he‘d practiced many times before. His sandaled feet grated savagely against the flimsy surface of the sand, spawning waves of tawny granules that amassed with time. Every few meters he would leap to slow his gaining speed, his body twisting to the side while his hand kept him steady against the declining surface. Chimes passed as sand became gravel, Gideon’s jaw clenching as the smooth land slide became strikingly more choppy. Letting the change in friction run its course, smooth pebbles rebounded off slope and body until he came to a complete stop. From there the transition to more measured steps came easily enough, the outlander eventually reaching smooth boulders worn by time, the soles of his footwear shaving off slim layers of sandstone from the tumbled surface. Down he went, a coolness in the air finding him in the lower altitudes, hopping over rocks and skirting boulders with ease and trepidation, until at long last he found that the world leveled off. Reaching an arm around behind him to ensure that his pack and valuables still remained intact, Gideon’s eyes searched the six hundred feet or so of slope he’d just descended from with appraising eye. And though dust had caked his garments and small pebbles had found their way into the folds of his clothes, there was an expression of contentment glued to his countenance. The last vestiges of spring could be found in the keerdash’s drying leaves, the rich scarlet they were known for having dulled to a burgundy with the change of seasons. Upon bended knee Gideon reached down to the creviced earth with unencumbered fingers, retrieving one of the leaves that had fallen from the branches. Flipping the crumbling foliage over in his hand, he drew its entire body into his palm before drawing a fist around it tight. Only red dust fell between the fleshy gaps in his hand. But he was home.

[Kalesse]

Haizea stood with her head hanging between her forelegs, bottom lip held loosely as she dozed. The Desertbred was the picture of contentment with her back hoof cocked and her tail flicking idly to keep the curious bugs away. Satisfied that the horse wouldn’t wander, Kalesse had found her own bit of shade under which to lounge.

It was hot, though that hardly made a difference to the Chaktawe from one day to the next; they were all hot. And sunny. And dry. But as Kalesse shifted her butt around in the sand trying to find a more comfortable position, she knew that she would never have it any other way. It took a certain caliber to live as her people did, and there was a pride they could all take in that.

With this sense of superiority wrapped around her snug like a blanket, Kalesse fell into a light doze along with her horse. There wasn’t to be a riding lesson for bells still and… well, sometimes there was just nothing better than a nap.

Contentedly dreaming of a swiftly flowing river, one she had never seen before yet some how seemed vaguely familiar, the Chaktawe woman was ignorant to the strange man’s approach. Usually, when out alone in the sands, Kalesse was on high alert, keying in on even the slightest tingling in her fingers. Tumbling down rushing rapids, the woman’s sleeping mind took no notice of the slight vibration in the gel-filled pores on her fingers. Not until the man started the avalanche down the side of the valley, at least.

Bolting upright with a barely contained yelp, Kalesse found her feet and spun in place, one hand extended before her as she searched for the disturbance that sent her entire hand vibrating hard enough that the tips of her fingers were completely numb. The other hand hung at her side and slightly behind her as she automatically began to gather res, cupping it in her palm as those onyx eyes flickered rapidly around the grove.

There! The man tumbling down the slope was extremely hard to miss and Kalesse found herself quietly cursing the fact that he had gotten so close unnoticed. A quick glance told her that Haizea noticed the newcomer as well, her ears perked in his direction though she kept the drowsy horse façade. Dropping to her knees, Kalesse sent the res that she had gathered out and over the ground, spreading it along the slope that lead into the grove so that when the man tumbled over it, she was able to transform the res into more of the loose red sand that surrounded them.

It worked. The man continued his controlled slide, rocketing into Kalesse’s harmless patch of res without any obvious signs of having noticed he’d done so. As a result, the red cloud that surrounded him thickened, significantly reducing the stranger’s visibility.

Leaving her horse where she was, Kalesse slunk between the Keerdash trees and towards the newcomer. He had regained his feet and was stooping at the base of one of the trees, still unaware to her presence. Waiting until he stood, peering at something in his hand, the young Chaktawe quickly gathered some res on the inside of her lips, pursing them as if she was to whistle before blowing quickly in the strange man’s direction. It took a bit of effort, since she was still quite a ways away from her target and had intended the res to cross the space quickly enough, but she managed, if only barely.

When the fine mist of res reached the intruder, Kalesse activated it, drawing from the sand around them so that the man was pelted with a face full of the stuff, a mini sandstorm made specifically for him. Crossing her fingers that his mouth was opened as well as his eyes, the young woman stood and dashed from where she had crouched to stop in front of the tall man.

Waiting for his vision to clear, Kalesse pulled the small dagger her father had given her so long ago from her waistband and clutched it in one fist, her black eyes fathomless as she locked her gaze upon the man. “What are you doing here.” Her voice was firm, not quite a snarl and not much louder than a whisper. The stranger had no idea that most of this quiet anger was the woman seething at allowing herself to be snuck up on. “You don’t belong here.”

[Gideon]

Sun baked fingers opened, revealing the diminished remains of the leaf that stained his skin like flaking rust. Gideon tipped his hand until the small mound coddled in his cupped palm seeped to the cracked earth, a red waterfall that billowed a fine dry mist. The stoic expression on his face hardly told of the story memory was spreading like pandemic straight through his heart; of a family that loved him and a community that spurned him. But that chapter was nearly a decade and a half in passing, and those faces had long since forgotten the one they’d dubbed Outlander. Finally suppressing the last ephemeral memory that had curbed his vigilance from the present, Gideon’s sand-flecked brows narrowed immediately, a sense of alarm rising like cold fire throughout his body. The air around him had changed in a way that was dangerously familiar, reminiscent of a great secret that had once been shared with him by a woman curious of his will to live. But this conjuring was not of her design, and very quickly he felt dread sink in. Barely even given the chance to inhale his own astonishment, the air around him suddenly whipped into a quick influx of sand and debris, pelting his body and clinging agonizingly to his open eyes. If it hadn’t been for the keffiyeh he’d pulled over his nose and lips during his desert hike, things could have fared far worse. The sting dislodged a menacing grunt from his throat as he stumbled back a few steps, free arm swinging vainly before him to shield his face from the onslaught. In his muddled retreat, the Outlander’s back collided with something steadfastly solid, rebounding forward again until a moment later when he regained his footing. Blind and disoriented, instinct was permitted a chance to flow through his veins and dissolve his bewilderment. Roughly hewn digits wrapped around the hilt of his longsword, brandishing the blade with a soft hum against its sheath. Much as he wanted to slash it threateningly, he knew the gesture would only serve to further humiliate him. Instead, as tears finally answered the call of his moisture deprived eyes, Gideon heard the menacing voice of a woman call towards him, beckoning him to answer and turn his body in the direction he felt it came from. The language he recognized immediately, her accent one that told him she hadn’t simply picked it up during her travels. But even given the threatening inflection of her voice, something within Gideon made him surrender to her effort. Sheathing the longsword back from whence it came with the steady hand of a man that wished no rebuke, he lifted his arms before him and showed the curved flats of his palms. ”Water…” was all his parched lips managed, though resorting to the common tongue rather than deferring to tawna. Even his voice sounded in dire need of drink, forced by his own efforts to give more urgency to his words.

[Kalesse]

It was a bittersweet success that coated her tongue. Kalesse hadn’t noticed the stranger’s keffyeh, a soft curse escaping her lips when she saw that half her effort had been wasted. “I should have aimed for just the eyes.” The not so silent self-berating continued as the young woman watched the man struggle to see, fumbling blindly for his own weapon as his eyes worked to dispel the grit. Kalesse knew that it was unkind to laugh, but her pride allowed her a tiny tinkling chuckle.

Having taken to leaning casually against a nearby trunk while her opposition struggled, dark brows shot into her skyline when the curved blade was brandished with eerie accuracy in her direction. Had he stepped a few paces forward, that sharp looking tip would have easily sliced her midsection, again caught off guard; a thunderstorm brewed in her eyes courtesy of injured pride as Kalesse shoved herself away from the tree.

With the dagger still clutched in her fist, standing alertly now before this strange man, Kalesse cleared her throat pointedly, as her questions still hung between them unanswered. Still he struggled with the sand, impatient lips parting to scold once more when the raspy word was choked.

“What you’ve brought none of your own? In a desert? That seems a bit foolish.” The words slipped from between her lips before she could stop herself, the quick slapping away of his request assuaging some of the anger Kalesse still felt for her own carelessness. It was unfairly targeted at the main, but he had stumbled into the wrong grove, surprising the wrong sleeping Chaktawe.

Kalesse’s lips twisted in a smug smirk after a few moments, and she decided to throw another barb. “You didn’t give me answers. Why should I give you anything at all?” It was borderline petulance that was saved only by the belated realization that the man had croaked at her in Common. Everyone spoke Tawna, she hadn’t even given speaking it to a stranger a second though. The desert was massive, yes, but it was secluded.

Someone who didn't speak her language! A curiosity lit the depths of those black eyes as a new perspective took control of the young woman's emotions. The novelty of this stranger struck her suddenly, and Kalesse lost the edge to her anger. “Moment.” Her Common was poorly accented and hardly ever used; it had taken a number of ticks before the young woman was able to retrieve the word from her memory. Stepping quickly through the sand, her feet barely leaving an indent to mark her passing, Kalesse rushed to Haizea’s side and fumbled with the straps of her saddle pack. Her small, spare water skin was quickly found and the spry woman was back to the stranger’s side in a matter of moments.

“Take this.” Again, in choppy Common as the skin was pushed into the man’s hands. He still didn’t seem to be seeing clearly, so Kalesse stepped back to watch him as he drank; who knows what the man would do if he opened his eyes and only her face could be seen.

It seemed to take forever for the man to quench his thirst, Kalesse left to shift impatiently from foot to foot, the dagger still not sheathed and twirling between her fingers; the man might be a novelty, yes, but that didn’t mean she had to trust him. “Hurry. I still want my answers. Oh, and your name. I want your name.”

[Gideon]

Burning tears fled from swollen red eyes, cutting a winding path through a thin film of dust-caked cheeks, and disappearing beneath the worn fold of his keffiyeh. Through this misery, any semblance of control seemed impaired, a silent blessing given the fact he didn’t have to mislead his assailant into thinking their native tongue was foreign to his ears. Instead, he resigned himself to simply stand, wavering without sight to command balance, and resisting the urge to rub fitfully at his eyes. His patience, he hoped, would pay off. Accepting the skin of water she offered delicately into his grasp, Gideon’s chin dipped in appreciation before taking a cautious step of his own back. Pulling away the mask to his scarf and tossing it casually across his shoulder, a grimace that had been hidden before was now manifest. The unrelenting pain had become oppressive in the moments it had taken her to fetch his request, but the last thing he wished to gamble against now was the possibility of damaging his eyes. Tipping the lip of the skin close to his nose, he inhaled its contents intently to ensure no other tricks were being played. Somehow the thought of washing his eyes out with oil seemed a cruelty only the blackest heart could fathom trying. But, seemingly satisfied, he raised the skin above his head and craned his neck to stare level with it, a small stream splashing over his wounded eyes which began to blink feverishly. The world which had been little more than shades of dusky light quickly took form, the trees given back their definition while a new face was given depth. As his blinded suspicions had previously led him to believe, she was indeed Chaktawe, a lamentable sigh passing between his lips when he realized how poorly armed she was. Even so, it hardly troubled him to conclude that a little reciprocity was in order. Mindful not to waste more water than was necessary, Gideon drew the skin to his lips and began swallowing purposeful mouthfuls of water, throat bulging forcefully with each draught he took. Closing his eyes joyfully and with a deep breath after his last drink, concentrated Res slowly began to pour from his tongue back into the skin. It was one of the first tricks he’d learned when roaming the sands, subduing the chaos that often fled from its watery solution each time he attempted summoning by the effort of his hands. In this way, water poured smoothly down his throat rather than splashing uncontrollably over his face. It also eliminated the need for a watering container like the one he was holding now. Disgusting though it seemed, the Res Gideon slowly conjured was poured into the container, returning to it the volume from which he‘d stolen. It was more time consuming than he’d hoped for, but once the task was complete he opened his eyes and smiled sweetly towards the woman who’d shown some ounce of kindness. Never was there a place that stressed the necessity of water more than the desert, and the unfaithful gratitude he bestowed seemed almost theatrical. Handing the skin back over peaceably while keeping a stolid eye upon the woman’s dagger, Gideon raised his palms deferentially and backed away. There was a different air about him now that pain had subsided and thirst had been quenched. It was almost as if he knew something she didn’t. Speaking to her once more, this time his words were uttered in a language she would immediately recognize as her own native tongue. “Here’s my answer for you, Awahtoklo…“ The subservient smile he’d kept lingering upon his simpering lips suddenly turned menacing upon the third retreating step, beryl eyes twisting into chaos as their hue rapidly intensified. A swift and severe twist of his right hand whipped the contained Res into motion, and quite suddenly the skin which he’d returned stretched violently in all directions. Spouting water from the mouth like a geyser, the inexperience and chaos of his control overwhelmed the cradled mass, a mere second passing before a loud POP deafened the air around them. The spray of water erupted in all directions, a frothing mass of explosive moisture that was swallowed quickly by that which it touched. But Gideon’s interest in the culmination of his work was hardly of his concern. Before even the last drop of water had fallen and silence pervaded in its aftermath, the Outlander once again had his sword drawn. Leaping forward in long strides that kicked up small spouts of accursed sand, his hope of catching the woman off guard would be lost to the precious seconds if he did not act quickly. Spinning the blade around in his rugged palm such that the flat end became his attacking edge, Gideon raised the ancient blade skyward and struck wildly down towards the glinting edge of his opponent's dagger. The very muscles in his right arm seemed to pulse with electrified energy, tightening against the white cloth of his sleeve which had been splashed not moments ago. He just hoped that his vision, still hampered by a tear provoking burn, would do his aim some justice.

[Kalesse]

Something about the way the stranger took the skin from her grasp, gently and as if he was unsure that it was really there, made Kalesse wary; had she been parched, the offered liquid would have been snatched up in ticks flat. Those solidly black eyes tracked every little movement the man made, slightly put off by the fact that he had hardly taken stock in anything around him let alone…

Kalesse’s mildly observant train of thought was derailed when the stranger lifted the water skin to sniff. Humph. He didn’t trust her, and Kalesse found herself bristling at the mild insult. It wasn't until she realized that well… she had attacked him and was standing there with a drawn dagger in her hand that she sighed and allowed her hackles to go down. Blowing it all off as still reeling from the surprise of this strangers initial appearance, it wasn’t until he then began pouring the life-giving liquid onto his face that she made her thoughts heard. “Hey! That’s precious stuff! What are you… Oh!” Feeling rather foolish, the Chaktawe woman bit down on her bottom lip and stifled the remainder of her protest.

Right. He had sand in his eyes.

Waiting for the impromptu shower to finish, the young woman felt a satisfied smile curl the corners of her lips. “Feel better?” It was a rhetorical question, and it was a good thing she wasn’t expecting an answer, for the strangers eyes immediately took Kalesse; bright, bright blue, clear, and sharp despite the sand bath they had just received, they were completely and utterly foreign to this desert dweller. She watched him carefully as he looked around, her smile broadening into a grin when those eyes landed on her and something flickered within their depths.

So focused she was on his gaze that Kalesse took the skin back wordlessly, a reflexive incline of her head as thanks. Her own gaze travelled over his face with silent appraisal, steadily moving downward until she noticed that he was stepping away, his hands upraised. Only then did the young woman snap out of it, finally noting the curious weight of the skin in her hand. It should have been nearly empty…

His tawna was terrible, rusty to the point where Kalesse wrinkled her nose in distaste. With a scoff, Kalesse flipped her hair over her shoulder and opened her mouth to correct his grammar when the gravity of the situation hit her.

“Wait!” Dropping the skin into the sand, Kalesse stopped the idle twirling of her dagger and gripped it firmly in her fist, raising her free hand before her as if that would make the man stop; she had felt the gathering of his djed too late, since she hadn’t thought to look for it.

Kalesse wasn’t a fighter, and this strangers quick action quite literally knocked her off balance; her water skin exploded against her leg from where she had dropped it to the ground, propelling her sideways and head first into the sand; it was only her quick reflexes that saved her from face planting as she caught herself on her hands.

The gel-filled pores on her fingertips felt each step as the man sprinted towards her, reading the vibrations of the sand. It wasn’t much of a warning, but it was enough. Spitting the grit from her mouth and blinking furiously to rid her lashes of the sand, Kalesse flipped onto her back, her tiny dagger raised in what defense it could offer. Metal screeched on metal as that huge (in comparison) blade slashed down towards her face. The angle that she held her dagger caused the strangers blade to skitter down, its path deflected down into the sand rather than directly at her throat.

With a strangled cry, Kalesse pushed herself to her feet, throwing herself directly at the stranger as she did so. Putting all her weight into her shoulder, the young woman could only hope to unbalance her larger foe and give herself enough time to get back on her feet. Should that fail, a few twists would allow her to slip from his fumbling grasp, though it would undoubtedly be much messier.

Stumbling away, only a lifetime of living on the sands allowed the woman to keep her feet. Straightening and brandishing her little blade before her once more, Kalesse pointed herself towards her enemy and took a couple quick steps backwards. “Haizea!” The shout was clear and commanding, as those twin pools of onyx never left those bright blue eyes.

But the mare hadn’t needed the call; upon hearing her master cry out, the small gray had dropped all pretenses of a nap and rushed to the young woman’s side. Though all ten of her fingers tingled with the movement of the beast, those of her left hand vibrated infinitesimally harder, telling Kalesse exactly where to expect her horse. Without taking her eyes off of the stranger, the young woman put years of practice into motion and reached up just as Haizea bolted past her, grabbing hold of mane and bridle as she twisted, pushing off hard from the ground and flinging herself onto the back of the horse.

Landing on the saddle on her stomach, it took only a rotation of her hips to allow her left leg to swing up and over, her butt planting firmly in the seat. Gathering the reins in one hand and digging her heels into the gray mares side, Kalesse turned the horse in a sharp semi-circle, pulling the mare to a stop in front of where the stranger stood.

“What in the petch was that?!” Kalesse eyed him warily and for any signs of sudden movement; the young Chaktawe knew her limits. She wasn’t a fighter and had no problem running away from something bigger than her.

[Gideon]

The sweeping arc of his sword felt sluggish and crude in his grasp, the design failing to lend itself courteously to nonlethal attacks where the flat end was thick and the shape ungainly. The cry of metal pierced air in savage defiance, shuttering the echo of an exploding skin who contents had been soaked greedily into the ever-thirsting earth. The woman’s arm bent reluctantly against the compulsion of his blade before she managed to direct its momentum harmlessly to the side, too late for Gideon to realize the err in impetus. His right foot tangled with the hook of an unseen leg, the subtle correction in his faltering step arriving a moment too late as he was forced to topple gracelessly over her, torso first. Linen wrapped hands sprang out before him with three fingers still clawed around his weapon, grating against the unforgiving earth that stung the balmy flesh where callus could not be found. Rolling into an improvised ball, sand sprouted in plumes all around him, coming back around to his feet which immediately kicked against the ground upon purchase and drew him back to an unsteady balance. Her shrill battle cry at this juncture seemed birthed from the eye of a rising temperament, body bounding through the unsettled divide which separated them as she aimed purposefully with her shoulder. Twisting loftily to the side, the impact she succeeded in grazed against his midsection, a muddled grunt emanating from the desert walker’s thin lips as he quieted a grimace. Lifting his arm over her slender back, his fingers wrapped roughly around her hip, wrenching her free and shoving her harmlessly behind him. He watched her do well to keep balance while stumbling backward, a chapped smirk flourishing midst his clouded features, the grip on his weapon reaffirmed as he flexed his whole hand around it. Then, quite suddenly, the woman called out a name, harkening to the ears of those presumably within their vicinity and drawing Gideon to a new plateau of adrenaline filled apprehension. The quick trot of horse hooves quickly mitigated what suspicions he’d been fostering, but nonetheless ushered him to sheath his sword and draw out his bow instead. Sweeping the strung weapon from around his shoulder and over his head, Gideon’s right hand slithered behind him and uncapped the quiver where a small nest of lethal shafts lie in wait. Brushing his fingers gingerly across gray fletching, he picked one from the bunch and swung it around to the string. In the time it had taken for her to mount, his hand had knocked the arrow and drawn the string back, poising his eye against the sighting and aiming straight for the woman’s chest. In a cold and intemperate voice, he ignored her quarrel and settled his shoulders. ”Down from the horse or I’ll set one through your heart.” He hoped their proximity was intimidating enough to encourage her compliance.

[Kalesse]

“Really?” The word didn’t hold all of the condescension that Kalesse had intended and was instead expelled rather breathlessly, her chest heaving slightly from the tussle. The young woman was not one for fighting and had never bothered to put forth any effort in its practice; the resulting retreat she had been forced to make had her brows drawn low over her eyes in a scowl. Now, with an arrow pointed at her and simply no way to escape before it struck her or her horse, all she could do was bluff.

The ticks flashed by and Kalesse still hadn’t dismounted, carefully watching the man and his arrow for any sign of movement as her brain wracked for some kind of answer. Obviously, she couldn’t just give in; the woman felt her pride take a fatal blow even at the thought. No, fighter or not she couldn’t be outsmarted.

However, neither was she an idiot. This man was an inegma, and she hadn’t even gotten his name let alone any other pertanant information about him. He could, quite possibly, not even know how to use a bow. Or… his aim could be deadly. But was the satisfaction of besting her opponent worth the possibly deadly gamble?

Haizea, sensing her rider’s unease, started dancing in place, the powerful muscles in her hindquarters rippling as she began to gather her strength under her and prepared to bolt. “Shhh shhhh, easy girl.” Kalesse could see the whites of the mares eyes as they rolled to better focus on the man with his weapon; the Desertbred would really have no idea what the bow was, but she could most definitely sense the hostility it represented, and her instinct was telling her to flee.

Shortening the reins and pulling Hai’s head to the right, the young Chaktawe clamped her right leg down and pulled the mare into a tight circle. Once, twice, three times around they went, Kalesse holding tightly as the horses head bobbed in frustration, until she felt the tension disappear from under her seat.

Leaning forward to pat the mare lightly on the neck, praise murmured softly in her ear, Kalesse cast a covert glance in the Strangers direction. Yep, he was still there, and she was still alive. “Good girl. Very good girl.” The whisper held a veiled note of triumph. Haizea simply flicked her ears back towards the sound of Kalesse’s voice, tossing her head with a loud snort before she pawed at the ground. Unhappy though she might be, the mare would stay put.

Straightening, Kalesse turned Haizea with the gentle pressure of her legs, dropping the reins and lifting her hands above her head in a gesture of submission. “Don’t shoot.” A smirk curled the corners of her lips as those deep, black eyes widened in feigned surprise and fear. Kalesse thought she had him now. Sliding slowly down from the saddle and landing with barely a sound onto the sand, she gathered the reins, pulled them over Haizea’s head and clucked the mare into motion.

It only took a dozen steps for Kalesse to be within arms reach of the stranger. He would have had to adjust his aim after she dismounted, but whether or not the arrow was still pointed at her heart, Kalesse stood boldly before him, her hands on her hips and the big gray mare eyeing him from over her shoulder. “Would you really shoot a lass, after she gave you her water and everything?” A brow rose with her question, the near grimace that had dressed her lips now blossoming into a rather winsome smile. Kalesse knew her limits. She wouldn’t be able to charm herself out of this one.

The opportunity was too good to pass up however, and a languid lowering of her gaze along the strangers form occupied the next chime or so of silence. Unable to properly appreciate the stranger upon his appearance, Kalesse took in everything, her glance cool and appraising as if she were simply looking over horse stock for soundness. When those black eyes reflected again in his bright blues, the smile returned and her expression told plainly of her judgment: Decent enough.

“Now what am I supposed to think? Haven’t seen a stranger for seasons and the first one to appear tries to gut and…” Glancing at the bow with it’s arrow still in the string, the smile now curling with a little scorn, “shoot me… Well, it seems like hospitality means little anymore.”

Turning away from the stranger, offering him a clear shot at her back as she walked away, another subtle blow at the man, Kalesse tied Haizea’s reins to a low hanging branch of a nearby tree. “I haven’t gathered my res, I haven’t even picked up my dagger.” Turning her head to look over her shoulder at the man once more, the scornful act was dropped and Kalesse sighed.“What is it that you want from me, then? It can't simply be blood or you would have shot by now, and if you're lonely... well, you don't have to do it by force. I'd be more than willing to oblige.” Another flicker of her eyes, reminiscent of the one she had raked him with only moments before as a soft laugh escaped her lips.

"Well, speak up. I have things to do." A hand motioned to where, in her rush to aid her master, Haizea had dumped the Chaktawe's gear and left it scattered in the sand.

[Gideon]

Apparently the woman’s selective memory worked well in her favor, Gideon’s eyes still burning red from the storm of sand that had temporarily blinded him. It took all his willpower not to blink as she dismounted from her horse, the point of the armor piercing round carefully trailing her movements as she stepped cautiously towards him. A small but nonetheless callous smile tugged against the right side of his face, smug satisfaction over the fact that he’d bested the one who had initially ambushed him. With string still poised to strike, he could feel the tension in the bow begin to wear at his bent arm, fingers trembling right around the time her curvaceous frame turned from him. She enjoyed speaking. That much was clear. But so very few words actually had an impact the desert traveler’s sensibilities these days, and her taunting hardly drew even the slightest scintilla of frustration from him. He’d fared far worse slurs and provocations from more cretinous dogs than she, the Eypharians taking a special place in that void. They had honed it down to an art form, and only once had he ever shown an outburst. After that it was not likely to happen again. But the desert traveler already knew what his answer was to this riddle presented before him, and no matter how threatening he appeared to be, dealing in death was not something he took lightly. Not to mention it would have been a waste of a good arrow. Relaxing his tension on the bow, Gideon carefully lowered the weapon to his side, a finger from his left hand curled around the shaft of the arrow against the rest to keep it in place along the string. There was no telling if this sortie would go back and forth in tricks of magical trade, so it seemed prudent to keep his guard up. Once she had finished speaking however, Gideon had taken a sudden interest to his sand spattered clothing, a right hand gruffly patting away the lifeless earth that shed from him in droves. ”I just assumed you were doing more than enough talking for both of us,”his gaze leveling once more with hers as he showed no sign of admiration for the obviousness of his own mockery. Only time allowed it to settle in, a gentle sigh heaving his muscled shoulders before he pressed on. “I came here to find rest. Now if you don’t mind…” His bloodshot eyes scanned the groves beyond the woman’s own personal struggles, to where the keerdash were thickest and the shadows heaviest. Somewhere in there was the perfect oasis for his tired feet to rest. As long as this one didn’t intend to have the final say in their encounter by another attack, he was content with going on his way. He’d seen enough Chaktawe in his life not to be drawn in by curiosity to this one, and his legs were so…so tired. It was like a wave of water had suddenly come crashing down around him, knees buckling out from underneath as a nauseating migraine swept across his scalp. Shock tore through him like a sail unfurling against its mast, Gideon’s first thought drawn to the woman whom he feared had been the cause for his sudden departure from normalcy. Falling to one knee that cratered the earth, his torso spun to the side as the grip on his bow released. No longer in control of even his own faculties, the man’s body pelted the floor like a sack of wet grain, arms sprawled chaotically to the side. He was left in stunned silence, unaware of the effects his overgiving had caused.

[Kalesse]

Though the stranger had intended to let his sentence trail off with suggestive purpose, Kalesse made sure to cut him short as she turned her shoulders away, talking back over at the man before she completely spun away. "No, actually, I don't mind. If you knew anything about the sands…”

Muttering softly to herself as she stalked away, Kalesse left the man to his business. The whole ordeal had frustrated her beyond belief; she hadn’t even noticed her fists as they clenched at her sides, nor the stiff, affronted posture her back and shoulders had adopted. It took a conscious effort for her to relax both, a sharp exhale through her nose the best she could do at quietly releasing her irritation.

How had he gotten to her so badly? He hadn’t been in her life for more than half a bell and she already wanted to smother that infuriating twinkle in those blue eyes with more sand, while the tips of her fingers itched for her dagger handle. Never before had she used the weapon against a person, and neither had she intended to do so. But this man….

A low growl escaped her lips and Kalesse stopped, taking a deep breath and closing her eyes. He had denied her all the answer to her questions, survived her surprise attack and still managed to best her on top of that. She had managed to give him far more information about herself than he had revealed. And he spoke Tawna, yet his face looked utterly alien to her. In her tribe, hardly anyone dared to tell her no, and this stranger came along and so neatly swept her feet out from under her. How had he so succinctly gotten under her skin? The answer was blaringly obvious, yet Kalesse chose to ignore it.

And it was driving her wild.

Opening her eyes, jet ice chips at this point, the young woman stalked over toe where Haizea had dumped their gear. She hadn’t bothered to take her tent and other equipment, so it was just a scattering of food and other necessities left to gather.

“Oh, how dare he!” Haizea flicked a lazy ear towards her in response to the muttered fume, though the mare didn’t seem interested at all. That didn’t stop Kalesse, however. “Rolling in here like he owns the place… Totally uncalled for…. Just defending myself!”

A startled snort from her horse instantly brought Kalesse up from where she was stooped gathering her supplies, whirling and fumbling at her waste for her dagger; with her nerves, pride, and patience all frayed, the Chaktawe woman was completely on edge. Wide eyed, she flicked her gaze around, looking for the source of Haizea’s discontent. The man was nowhere to be seen, though he had been walking away from them but a few moments before. Had she been so distracted that she hadn’t even felt him sneaking up on them?

Moving to put a hand on Haizea’s flank, Kalesse murmured softly to the beast. “Whats wrong girl?” The gray mare snorted again and bobbed her head and that was when she felt the vibrations on her fingertips; a larger movement than a footstep or two… was he running?

Cautiously, Kalesse moved over to the nearest tree, her footsteps light and quick. A glance around the trunk showed her nothing of the strangers retreating back, causing her brow to wrinkle in confusion. A dodge to the next tree brought her closer to where she had originally left the man behind. Another quick peek and…

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.” Stepping out from behind the tree, Kalesse stepped into view of the man laying in the sand on his side, eyes unfocused and what looked like pain crinkling his brow. “You think I’m going to fall for that? Get close enough so you can grab me or…or something.” But the grimace was too real, triggering a memory that drained the color from the young woman’s face. He looked how she felt, the first time she had overgiven. It was easy for a reimacer to spot, once they’ve done it to themselves.

Instinct told Kalesse to rush to his side, help the fallen comrade through their struggle; you stuck together in the desert. Only the strong survived, but that didn’t mean even the strongest didn’t have their own moments of weakness. A few steps were taken towards the man when Kalesse remembered: This man was not her comrade, nor her tribe. He wore no red across his eyes, like she. What did she owe him? He insulted her, not to mention bruised both her pride and ego, and clearly thought himself better than the mighty desert he didn’t seem to understand. He hadn’t even had any of his own water.

Torn, the woman stood, switching between crossing her arms over her chest and propping her hands on her hips. Ticks stretched into chimes and Kalesse still hadn’t moved, but as the man lay stretched there on the sand, something shifted inside the woman and she heaved a sigh, gathered up her pride and tucked it away as she moved to kneel by the man’s head.

Kalesse knew that the overgiving effected each individual a bit differently, so she kept her voice pitched to a low whisper when she asked “What can I do to help?”