Closed Strangers That Once Were Not (Nya/Valerius)

[Abashai]

When Winter made her rather feral display towards the Black Sun woman, Kialandra hesitated a moment, then only smiled cruelly. The Torturer did not recognize the kelvic woman whose life she had help to destroy, Kialandra simply reveled in the privilege she enjoyed, privileges that Valerius' jealous bitch would never know. Then, after noting the Nitrozian's admonishing glare at the offending wench, Kialandra allowed her host to guide her to the finely crafted dining table. With measured grace, the Salvatrice slid into her chair.

"The dishes look divine, Valerius," she used his name as if it pleased her to speak it. personal connection was key to forging relationships, business or otherwise. Kialandra helped herself to a bit of everything, though she took a portion of each meat. The Black Sun agent exhibited elegant manners, though she did not hide a rather healthy appetite.

When Valerius finally broached the subject of the evening's meeting, Kialandra simply cleared her throat. He was young, and she excused his lack of idle banter that traditionally accompanied such business encounters between members of Ravok's elite. Valerius was young and known to be rather ambitious, having been allowed some authority in the name of his family. The very reason Kialandra chose to engage him in negotiation.

"My...man, has intercepted a comminuque between House Delagato and House Beladon." Both of those families were relatively minor, like the Salvatrices. Both were rivals. Delagato had an in with the Nitrozians with a trade deal. She pulled the small scroll from within her robes and handed it to Valerius. Upon examination, he would find the broken seal still bore the symbol of the Delagatos. "You can read it for yourself, but it appears the Delagatos plan to share some proprietary information on Nitrozian business practices with the Beledon's, for profit." Kialandra's trained voice dripped with innocence, as if the information was a gift offered out of the kindness of her heart. Everyone knew, though, that the only kindness The Black Sun agent ever showed was bent to serve her self-satisfaction.

----

Yes, the anomaly of the keen sense of smell Abashai had developed sharpened, more so as the kelvic slave drew near. But this time, there were echoes of judgments, perceptions about the aromas that were not his own. The sensation was unnerving, but the Chaon found it not as disturbing as one might have thought, there seemed to be...room for it. But what happened next pushed him into a surreal concern. The girl snarled her sharp retort, speaking words that echoed past the curious matter of the scents, words that seemed to strangely resonate in tangent with the fierce moss green eyes he could not tear himself from. As she stormed back to her side of the doors, The Benshiran repeated her sentence in his head. Khopesh, Oud. They were Shiber, everything else she said was in Common, but those two words. Oud. Even he had forgotten that once he played the Eyktolian stringed instrument. But how did this northern kelvic know that? It was a trick, the Nitrozian was up to something, he should open the doors...

Abashai pressed his ear to the door. Normal conversation. His crystalline gaze fell upon the threatening woman. He paced around her, eyes fixed with a narrowed brow. "How did you know that? Witch." He accused, his finger pointing at her. "I swear, if this is a trick," His hand opened threateningly, the mark of Yahal visible on his palm, ..."I will crush your throat before you can change into your precious cat." Yes...that's what she was. The eyes were the eyes of a forest cat, a big one. The human stepped back, trying to regain some composure. Kialandra would not want him killing their hosts slaves. Still, somehow this wench knew him. A distinct disadvantage that the chafed at the Benshiran.

"Let down your hair." He demanded, trying to find something familiar about her, something to confirm the obscure, vague vibrations of...something. Undefined, unsettling but not unprecedented.

[Valerius Nitrozian]

„I’m glad that the food is to your liking“, Valerius remarked. There was something about the way she said his name. Even though he knew that everything she did served a certain purpose, he appreciated the way she talked and acted. In times like these people with manners like hers were hard to come by sometimes. She ate a little too much for his taste though. Valerius‘ manners were exquisite as well, although he ate very slowly and only a small bite at a time. The Nitrozian’s interest in food had always been comparatively small. He mostly ate so that he didn’t die. He was more interested in the things you did while you were eating a meal together, in the social aspects of meals. The only things that tempted him sometimes were Yae Varone’s sweets. As she cleared her throat, he arched an eyebrow. Had he done something wrong? Should he have waited longer and started with more trivial topics before they talked about the reason for her visit? Unfortunately he had little interest in small talk, and his patience was limited. Valerius preferred to get straight to the point. „I see“, he replied as she mentioned the two houses and what they were up to and accepted the scroll. His gaze darkened as he read the message. „I thank you for bringing this matter to my attention“, he remarked as he put the scroll down again and looked at her. He was quite aware that she hadn’t brought him the scroll because she was such a good person and wanted to help the Nitrozians, despite the way she talked. In their circles people rarely did anything out of kindness. She probably expected some form of payment from him. He would, were he in her position. „How can I show my gratitutde?“ he wanted to know.

[Nya Winters]

Winter grew more agitated as the Benshira paced around her. She could hear Kialandra and Val speaking, about nothing important or interesting, so her whole focus was on the Benshira. He crowded her and she retreated, then he followed her and demanded she let down her hair. She was focused on something else, something deep inside her that was uncoiling and reaching out to the Benshira, like invisible fingers of power probing at him, demanding him, making he... to ... to.... everything about her wanted him, all of him, and even his close proximity, his voice, his scent, his appearance... all of it drove a need in her. She needed too... too...

.... bond.

She bared her teeth, growled softly at the back of her throat, and felt his hands suddenly on her hair. Winter rejected everything about the bond because of rejection... deep heartfelt rejection. She didn't know where it was coming from, but then and there, as easily as that, she could feel her soul wanting his, and the tendrils of power involved in bonding reaching out to him. Only him.

She shuddered.

His words, his request, had gone unanswered and unacknowledged so he was moving on his own. Hands reached out, tangled in her hair, and harshly yanked the coif from its position. Brindled hair so dark it was almost black tumbled down her back and coiled at her waist in reckless curls that were so difficult to tame. The kelvic's hair had all the colors of the forest in it: the speckled shadows of deep darkness, the deep green of moss and the bright green of spring, the thin blue highlights of bodies of secret water treading through trees, and the occasional blond strand that reminded him of light streaming through ancient trees both warm and golden.

Winter almost had more hair than she had body. The loose hair softened her features, made her look even more feral, and practically glowed with vitality. There was no way with hair like that anyone could mistake her for anything but kelvic and anything but a forest cat. Brindled, almost forming its own rosets deep within, it was the perfect camouflage.

And as Winter stood rock solid, unmoving, fighting her own internal battle, Abashai could remember suddenly, sharply, that he'd ran his hands through that hair before or hair much like it, often, and caught fistfuls of it. He'd buried his face in it before, and knew its fresh foresty scent.

And he could feel something else too. There was a broken link, a connection, a need arising in him. It called up pictures of a stranger wandering in a forested land running across a feral girl, younger, and playing with her in the water. He had no face, no name, no recollection of where or when. But he remembered the intense need - to touch her, to feel her, to talk to her, to be around her. That need filled him now, and it was almost like invisible lines of power - a weaving of djed - rose up in him and wanted to encircle her, tangling him to her.

On Winter's part, she stood frozen, trying to understand what she felt and why the stranger effected her. He was a big man, built solid, but he moved like a dancer. Light on his feet, his hands showed he knew how to use the weapon in them. Rough. Calloused. They'd feel good on her skin... on her bare skin. She stared at the hollow spot where his spine curved down from his neck, the space his flared shoulder blades stretched out, and how his lower back curved around to flare over his well muscled rump.

She wanted to curl up there, safe, and occupy that empty space. It felt like hers... like she had every right to it. And that made her feel strange inside. Burning. And she thought of the prison, and the men, and how they'd used her. And she should have hated them, and she should have never felt anything at all ever again for creatures like Abashai. But his sudden action, demanding her hair be let down and doing so himself... shot arousal through her.

She turned, blinked, and stared at the man and felt the heat rise in her. Heat. It was almost a sudden onslaught and she felt aggressive, far more aggressive than usual. Her eyes narrowed. He wasn't worthy. But she knew it was a lie. He was strong enough. He'd proven it before. She could almost feel his teeth in the back of her neck pinning her down.

Winter almost dropped to her knees in submission. But instead she snapped at him, exhaling his scent as if trying to get the stink out of her nose because it would get the emotions and images out of her mind.

"Who are you?" She growled, the sound hypnotic and compulsory.

[Abashai]

Kialandra knew all too well the protocol, the ritualistic tit for tat woven in the fabric of politics and business. She was certain that Amanda Nitrozian would have educated her nephew in the rules of engagement. Valerius could rightfully have asked where she acquired the information, and Kialandra was totally within bounds to evade or outright lie in response, for they all knew that theft, deception, espionage and murder was the course of business, for everyone.

Valerius seemed quite content to have the information without details of its acquisition. As he had already demonstrated, the young elitist liked to cut to the chase.

„How can I show my gratitude?“

The Black Sun Salvatrice was not interested in currency, she was not a mercenary or petty thug. Kialandra was building a power structure, leveraging wealth and influence with the power and authority of service to Black Sun and her Lord. Alliance with the Nitrozians was just another step towards her goal.

"Well, certainly anyone who would sell an ally's secrets to a rival can no longer be trusted. It would be a shame for the Nitrozians to loose business because they have no supplier. Fortunately, the Salvatrice's deal in the same trade that the treacherous Delegato's do." The sultry agent's tone remained conversational, sufficient though to convey her suggestion without actually voicing it. She hoped that the Nitrozians would do more than cut thier ties to the Delagato's, she hoped they would pursue their own punitive action. Maybe she would offer Abashai's skills in such efforts.

----

He didn't care about propriety, or offending their host, or even what Kialandra would do...the wretched slave knew the man who barely knew himself. That was what broke his temper. Abashai did not know who he was, other than what his Mistress told him, and distant memories of a young man in the desert. He did not share his dismay with Kialandra, did not want her to see him as weak. But flashes of memories and haunting dreams persisted, disconnected and tormenting in their obscurity. All he knew was he had lost much more than the lying Black Sun agent had told him. And now this animal was toying with him.

Abashai watched the tumble of brindled waves cascade from its ties. The curls unfurled like a beautiful thick blanket. The Benshiran knew the colors, every mottled pattern of the Kelvic's voluminous mane, it was the coat of a Talderian Forest Cat, it was locks he had run his fingers through to untangle nits and free twigs and leaves, it was the musky scented hair that fell over his face as a woman sat astride him in an intimate union. The Chaon staggered back a step, his hands coming free of her unbound hair.

Who was she?

She looked different now, the feral green gaze framed by unruly dark strands. He wanted to touch it again. He longed to touch it, to be covered by it. But not only the hair. He he saw the man and the girl in the forest, he knew the power that drew them together, he knew they would be bonded. And he knew the magnetic draw that tugged at his being, wanting to press against her, to have the hair in his face, to some how join her very spirit with his. Abashai knew what it was, because he had felt it before. The compulsion to bond, a Kelvic bond.

He was accustomed to submitting. Kialandra was his mistress in all ways, even between the sheets he bowed to her desires, serviced her in any way she demanded. But as he stood before the snarling kelvic, no shred of civility or social constraint upon her, Abashai was consumed with the desire to subdue the cat, to exert his will over her, claiming her for himself, for he had earned it, he had proven his worth and virility, she was supposed to be his...

"Who are you?"

The clamor in his head silenced at the sound of her voice, deadly and familiar. Abashai didn't know who he was, who she was, or why he was so powerfully drawn to her. What had Kialandra done to him? His breath came in quick pants, his core burning, his mind beside itself as he tried to understand the surreal circumstances.

"Abashai... we were..together once." He muttered. That much the Benshiran knew. He was feeling out of control of the situation, trying still to pull any explanation together. He didn't know who she was, what they had, or how it ended, other than badly. Had she betrayed him? He stalked around the Kelvic, scowling back at her. Abashai wanted to strip her...to look for clues in her skin, or was it so he touch the scars that he knew adorned her flesh?

"Who.... are you?" He demanded. "Are you bonded to the Nitrozian? What are you?" Even as the words left his lips, he knew she was not, the bond was calling to him.

[Valerius Nitrozian]

„How … fortunate.“ The hint of a smile was visible on Valerius‘ face as Kialandra mentioned that the Salvatrices dealt in the same trade as the Delegatos, and the tone of his voice had changed just a little. This didn’t sound like a coincidence to him, but he didn’t really mind. „I’m glad that you are offering to be our new supplier, Kialandra. I agree with you, the Delegatos cannot be trusted any longer. I would prefer to do business with you instead. I can imagine that this cooperation will be beneficial for both our families.“ Here he paused for a moment to take a sip from his glass of wine while he looked at the woman that sat opposite of him. He was happy that she had come to him with her message and not to some other member of his family. The head of his house would be pleased to hear that he, Valerius, had helped uncover the Delegatos‘ treachery and gained them a new ally in the process. It would increase his influence within the family and Ravok as a whole. „We might go as far as stopping all contact with them and taking certain measures to ensure that they know what it means to betray House Nitrozian’s trust“, he murmurred thoughtfully. „Wine, Kialandra?“ he asked. He had noticed that while she had eaten, she had not drunk anything yet. This seemed like a good occasion for a drink to him. Things were going well so far, exceptionally well in fact.

[Nya Winters]

His questions filled her mind with pure rage. There was nothing else to describe how she reacted nor how his vision grew red with the haze of hatred that suddenly filled him. She narrowed her moss green eyes at him and had she not been kelvic and rather been something else pure energy, she would have exploded in a burst of the emotion - so strong was her reaction. She twisted her lips up, growled, and said...

"Winter... Nya Winters." And then she shifted. It was as if the rage inside of her could be contained no more. The forest cat barely fit into the foyer space, the entrance into the dining room. Furniture was shoved, the little statue the benshira had picked up was knocked violently from its stand. Paws flexed and five daggers apiece protruded from them as the big cat yowled her rage and burst through the doorway and into the dining room.

Memories flashed through her mind, coming in waves, released as if by some flood. Her damaged shattered mind pulling itself back together at the sound of Abashai's demands and his soft spoken comment of them having been together.

No. No. No. He had rejected her. He had broken the bond. Because of her. Kialandra. The woman was dead as far as the kelvic was concerned. The kelvic was across the room in an instant and made to leap up onto the mahogany table. It would not support her weight though and crashed down, ending up being nothing more than a spring board for her leap. She was on the black sun priestess before the room could react, screaming with an unholy sound. Claws sank into the woman's shoulders and the weight of the cat hit her full force, bringing her down. Valerius was ignored. Any servers were ignored. Nya's whole world focused on Kialandra. Even before the woman could scream, Nya's jaws closed around her head. The woman's head came free of her body with a sickeningly wet sound as the dire cat tore it from her body. Claws shredded the robes beneath her, teeth flashed, and in moments the giant forest cat had reduced the guest to nothing more than a bloody pile of met.

It was satisfying. It was arousing. It was everything the big cat thought it was as the woman's blood filled her mouth and stained the Nitrozian floor. Dira came and went so fast that no one saw her as the big cat stood over her kill, the black sun corpse not even twitching.

Nya lifted her head, screamed her victory, and looked directly at Valerius as if to challenge him to the right to do what she wanted. No. Those days were gone. She would do what she needed to do.

Releasing the body, the flesh holding no appeal to her for a meal, the cat backed away, whirled, and paused for a moment. She scented deep, lifted her head. She meant to run. And she was going to follow the scent the woman held close to her until she found her residence. The woman had something of hers, something living, that while not of her body should have been. It was easy to see what she was going to do. Nya was going to flee, with all her memories intact, straight through the kitchen and onto the street and find the child that should have been hers. Steal it. And be away from this wretched place of misery.

[Abashai]

"Winter... Nya Winters."

If the name meant little to the Benshiran as she spoke it, moments later it would be the key to crushing truth. Had the events occurred solely in the physical environment around him, Abashai, sound of mind and resolve, could have retained the ability to react. But as the cloud of pinpoint lights surrounded the kelvic, only to unveil the massive forest cat, something happened. Two minds, broken with fragments of memories and visions they could not connect, found each other, one puzzle piece fitting into another, human mind and feline awareness making severed connections...and Abashai knew not only who the woman was, but who he was.

"NYA!" He screamed as the giant cat sprung after Kialandra, venting her astounding rage, rage Abashai felt. He knew as soon as she turned Nya was going to kill his mistress....his handler, his torturer. OH gods, he had broken the bond, Kialandra had turned him against Nya, he had abandoned her and let them destroy her. The fact rang out from the Kelvic's mind, demanding the Black Sun woman's brutal demise. The Benshiran could only watch as Nya ripped the head off of the woman, rent her flesh from her bones, sending a fountain of dark blood to spatter the floor, the walls, the demolished table, the Nitrozian.

The khopesh clattered to the floor from nerveless fingers. What had he done?

Abashai fell into the Unity bond again, finding the familiar connections. Deathly silence filled the room, just the sound of air being sucked into the bloody cat's nostrils. Nya wasn't done. She was not concerned with him, not yet. there was something else. She wanted something else, he could smell the boy she sensed. The baby. His son.

Debris scattered as the forest cat charged from the room. Abashai snatched up his khopesh, roaring. "NO!" He raced to try to catch the great beast. knocking aside anyone that stood in his way, the Benshiran ran into the kitchen and through the door that had just been obliterated. He caught a glimpse of Nya racing down the street. He knew where she was going. He called upon a power he had avoided since coming up from below. He drew on his ennervism, its energy shooting through his body on the flow of adrenaline. Strength pulsed into his muscles and he shouted with the sensation of its power. With a desperate glance at the retreating Kelvic, Abashai charged down the street after Nya.

[Valerius Nitrozian]

Valerius Nitrozian was currently a very happy man. The evening was going exactly the way he had hoped. The meal was delicious, the wine the best they had, the slaves were all behaving – including that troublesome Kelvic – and Kialandra and he were about to agree to a deal that would be beneficial to both of their families. He smiled and raised the bottle of wine to fill her glass. He didn’t mind playing the part of the servant on such an occasion. As he heard the noise coming from the foyer he frowned. „Excuse me …“ he murmurred to Kialandra, hoping that the incident wouldn’t lower her opinion of him. He had just mentally complimented the Kelvic for her good behaviour, but apparently that had been premature. What was she doing now? Was she fighting with Kialandra’s bodyguard? He would have to have a word with her. He would punish her. If something went wrong because of her, he would send her back to Aunt Amanda! He was tired of her! „I’m sorry for this small disturbance. I’m sure it …“ he started to apologize as the door abruptly burst open. For a moment he just stared at the large cat, not understanding what was going on. As she moved across the room, towards the table at lightning speed, his eyes widened, and he dropped the bottle. It shattered with a loud sound, and wine covered the floor, but for once he didn’t care. His mouth stood open, but no words came out. He just watched in shock as she jumped onto the table that broke down under her weight. He had never seen her like that before! How could he ever have thought that bringing her into his house was a good idea? He didn’t scream. Nor did he do anything to help his guest. As Nya’s jaws closed around Kialandra’s head he just watched in horror. He was not a hero, and he definitely wasn’t suicidal. So after a moment the Black-Sun-wannabe and self proclaimed future lover of Rhysol did what any sensible man would have done: He disappeared under the remains of the table so that he wouldn’t get in Winter’s way. If she wanted to eat his guest, so be it! Better Kialandra than him! She could have her! And his servants! Maybe she wouldn’t see him if hid. Maybe she would refrain from killing him as well. He stayed under the table for chimes after she had run out of the house, head bent and arms around his knees. He only came out of his hiding place as the first servants and guards that had been attracted by the noise appeared in the doorway, glaring at them. He didn’t want to hear a single word. His clothes were disheveled, and as he wiped across his forehead with the back of his hand, it was full of blood, Kialandra’s blood. He shuddered. The sight made him sick. What was he supposed to do now? An important guest had been killed in his house, by his Kelvic! His father would punish him! Her family would demand his head! Why in the world had he brought this Kelvic into his house?

[Verilian]

. . Thread Award . . Abashai +1 Rhetoric +1 Intimidation Lores: Killing for Kialandra, Old Senses Returned, The Call of the Bond, The Memory of Nya Winters Nya Winters +2 Intimidation +1 Unarmed Combat Lores: Cleaned up for a Formal Affair, Old feelings awakened, The Call of the Bond, The Memory of Rejection, Memories Returned, Valerius Nitrozian +3 Rhetoric +2 Politics Lores: Preparing the House for Guests, Ravokian Table Manners, Delegatos cannot be Trusted, Murder in the Nitrozian House You Question My Logic? : There wasn't a lot I could reward here, despite it being an awesome thread but.. Um.. if there are any questions about the XP award, feel free to PM me. (I don't know why I keep this section, lol. I almost never use it.) Notes: Quite an enjoyable thread. Too bad Val couldn't get that deal on paper before Kialandra was killed, though. Oh well.. anyway, great read, you guys. Keep on writing!