Flashback [Endrykas/Aquiras Tunnel] Stolen Visions (Sybel)

[Vanator]

Timestamp: 16th Day of Spring, 507 AV
Location: Endrykas, Sea of Grass

A Thunderstorm had rolled over Endrykas late the night before, after Vanator had walked Sybel back to her tent. The Drykas had to admit, he would have enjoyed listening to that storm from within the benshiran woman's abode, from beneath her furs. But a peculiar, unspoken restraint had developed between Van and Sybel. It certainly was not rooted in disinterest. Quite the contrary, Vanator could not remember wanting to be with a woman more than the beautiful Benshiran, and only with iron will had he not insisted on sleeping with her. But something more had developed between them, a circumstance that Vanator could not quite define. It was respect, awe, affection, and a connection at a depth that insisted on patience and exploration, as if, like examining a piece of art, moving too fast one risked overlooking a precious detail. Also, the anticipation that waiting created, the reverence of a pending union, was tantalizing and flavored the potential intimacy with an incredible excitement that Sybel seemed to share. So, after their date, Vanator had left the sultry Eyktolian at the entrance to her tent, with the promise to return for her in the morning.

Dawn came shining brightly, the sun beginning to dry the night rain from the blades of grass with the aid of a cool spring breeze. Vanator had risen early, excited to see the desert girl again. He had asked his young cousin JInna to ready Backlash for the ride, his Strider mare was rather fond of the young girl and would give her no trouble. Meanwhile, Vanator snagged several of his aunts sweet rolls, wrapped them in a cloth and made his way through the wakening city to Sybel's camp.

With a quick combing of his fingers through his long hair, Vanator paused before the woman's canvas dwelling and cleared his throat. Lifting his voice, he announced. "Sybel of the Tents of Alijah, Descendant of Malech of the Sons of Rapa, your mount awaits!"

[Sybel]

The night previous, a fearsome storm had rolled overhead shortly after Vanator had escorted her back to the tent. Rain assaulted the canvas shelter without mercy, the thunderous noise mirroring that which resounded in her head. Sybel lay awake for hours, just listening to the clamor of her own thoughts. The mere idea of seeing the Ankal’s son made her heart pound, but there were so many doubts. It shamed her to see how love struck terror into her heart. True love was something to run toward, not away from. Trauma colored most of the fear, she knew… But there was some unwelcome aspect of true phobia that she could not come to grips with. Commitment on its own daunted the Benshira, which not something she could be proud of.

Her sleep was restless. She alternated between throwing off her coverings and winding herself between them, molars clicking and grinding all the while. Before she even realized, a pleasant voice interjected itself into her half-waking dreams. It was a deep and yet boisterous sound, reverberating throughout her mind. "Sybel of the Tents of Alijah, Descendant of Malech of the Sons of Rapa, your mount awaits!" She giggled sleepily. Vaguely she recognized it as Vanator’s voice, but somehow it didn’t fit. It seemed very close and yet somehow outside of her fragile, dreaming bubble. Her eyes opened blearily, the ceiling of her meager dwelling materializing out of her otherwise restive visions.

Vanator was there to take her riding. “Coming!” She rasped. Hopping up, she nearly bolted from her bedroll. Her head and shoulders emerged from the flap before she remembered with horror that she slept in the nude. With a small gasp she disappeared back into her little home, shaken. With trembling hands she slid on her hide pants, ventilated linen blouse and leather boots. Sybel even took a moment to rake her agile fingers through the nest of her hair, saving curls from the danger of becoming dreadlocks. In the end, there was little else she could to except take a deep breath and emerge from her hiding place, cheeks flaming.

The radiant light of the sun nearly blinded her, its rays enveloping the rugged Drykas in a warm halo. He stunned her even then - dreams simply couldn’t compare. Breathless, she drank him in for a second time. If there was anything more attractive than Vanator at night, it was Vanator during the day. “Hi,” she whispered, melting a tad. There was that knot in her tongue again. “Good morning.” Of course the daydream couldn’t last, not with the embarrassment of her nearly flashing the poor guy. (Or lucky guy, depending on his opinion of the woman’s lithe form.) Sybel was nearly certain he only saw her collarbone at the absolute maximum. But there was no telling the reality, given her somnambulant state of mind.

“Sorry,” she said bashfully, gaze dropping to the ground. “I’m always embarrassing myself around you.” Too true. “It’s becoming a talent.”

[Vanator]

Anticipation bordering on anxiety enveloped the Drykas as he stood before Sybel's tent. A moment passed after he announced himself, attentive ears detected what sounded like a giggle before she answered him with a hasty reply. The sound of her voice was enough to make Vanator's stomach flip, which turned to full somersaults at the sudden appearance of her head and shoulders through the tent flap.

Only the briefest glimpse was offered to the Drykas, but in that moment Vanator was able to perceive so much. Mussed chestnut hair framed the warm face he adored, pale blue eyes bright but puffy with sleep. Dark hair cascaded over tanned bare shoulders, golden skin sloped tantalizingly from her slender neck to a generous cleavage barely visible within the shadow of the tent flap. Van's breath caught in his throat, his head tucking back slightly as shock swept her features and Sybel vanished in an instant.

The horseman shuffled his boots in the drying dirt, trying to appear patient, finding a satisfying pastime in recalling the image of Sybel's brief appearance. He was certain she was mortified. It was his understanding that women underwent morning rituals before allowing anyone to see them, as if they were not suitable to be seen straight out of bed. Vanator grinned to himself. The Benshiran was gorgeous, even in the flash of that unexpected glimpse, convincing Vanator that waking up and seeing her just like that every morning would make him more than happy.

His musings ate up the few chimes Sybel required to dress herself, and much to Vanator's delight, she finally emerged from the tent. As lovely as she appeared the night before in her dress, Sybel's riding attire pleased the horselord all the more. Fitted hide, linen and leather allowed the appreciation of the young woman's curves and contours, generous yet lithe. Last evening's persistent thrill engaged again, spiking when he met her crystal blue gaze and the accented lilt of her alto voice once again graced his ears. He managed to close his gaping jaw enough to return her greeting. "Hello Bel." It gave him a small pleasure to use her nickname.

“Sorry, I’m always embarrassing myself around you. It’s becoming a talent.”

There was a crimson flush in her high-set cheeks, and Vanator tried to conceal a grin. "I will take seeing that any day over the beer bath." His grin expanded, taking in a wry curl. Two compulsions had consumed Vanator from the moment Sybel stepped out into the sunlight. The first he now indulged, as he leaned in to press a soft kiss to her lips. The man restrained from the temptation to pour his excitement into the gentle gesture, fanning it to a more intrusive embrace. After a moment of savoring, Van pulled away. The Drykas fulfilled his other desire as his hand reached out to take hers in a finger-entwining grasp.

With a gentle leading, Vanator escorted Sybel across the wakening tent city. He held out the cloth wrapped sweet rolls. "I imagine you have not had breakfast. My aunt made these. We can't have you fainting from weakness and falling off of the horse. That would ruin my plans."

[Sybel]

As she stood before him, he unashamedly looked her over. It seemed Vanator’s jaw had become unhinged, hanging slightly agape at her form. With a start she realized he’d not seen her in normal attire. Sybel so rarely wore a dress that it hadn’t even occurred to her that this might be a new experience. "Hello Bel." His reply came shortly after Sybel’s little revelation. She liked how her nickname flowed with the dark timbre of his voice. She spoke again, this time backed by confidence. “Surprised? This is what I normally wear when not imprisoned behind the bar.” With a slender arm she swept the length her body from head to toe. “I picked the style up in Riverfall. It suits me and works better with the climate than Benshira robes.” For some reason, she felt more talkative than the night before. Despite her fluttering heart she was finally adjusting to the man’s heady presence.

Vanator tried to hide his smile at the recollection of their previous encounter. "I will take seeing that any day over the beer bath." The banter was set to begin already. “I bet,” she replied with a cocked brow, smirking. “Let’s hope you ride better than you drink, or you’ll be hanging off your saddle.” Though a jab, her tone was clearly satirical. “Perhaps you may get to see more of me if you can keep up.” There was a seductive purr punctuating the end of that challenge, her eyes twinkling. The Drkyas would find how irritable she could be in the mornings. Sybel was rarely unkind but certainly bolder and more at ease with her sarcasm given her grumpy disposition. She was many things, but a morning person was not one of them.

Tenderly he approached and pressed his lips to hers, the soft feel of his mouth urging her to mold to his shape. It began to dawn on her that despite time and place, she’d always react to Van in that way. It was over too soon for her liking, holding some measure of chastity. Still, the sweetness poured into his touch was too good to resist, even in her half waking state. His hand slipped into hers, fingers interlacing as was their way. It felt so right, even then. It hadn’t been a mistake to hold back; the culmination of their desire would be better for it. When she had a moment to look at him, his boyish grin infected her quicker than the plague.

He began to lead her across the way, holding up a hastily tied cloth for her to see. "I imagine you have not had breakfast. My aunt made these.” He bore them proudly. ”We can't have you fainting from weakness and falling off of the horse. That would ruin my plans." So he was scheming then? Sybel eyes narrowed with her widening smile, deliriously happy to have a man take charge. “What are they?” She asked politely while eyeing the bundle, suddenly feeling peckish. Ah, the power of suggestion. “Of course,” she continued whilst scrutinizing his offering, “I wouldn’t ruin your plans for the world. You’re the boss.” Her smile became toothy as she shifted her beaming gaze back to him.

As they walked she sighed, a little embarrassed for her bad attitude. “I’m not a morning person,” she offered by way of explanation. “So if I seem unnaturally testy, that’s just the evil manifesting. Pay it no mind.” There was never a moment something wasn’t dismissed with good humor. It’d become such habit that it was developing into a bonafide trait. “Shall we eat first my dear?” The Benshira inquired, clearly ceding the power to him. For all the freedom she held dear, being the dominant party was always so exhausting. Vanator had a easy masculinity that she appreciated. Drykas men were notoriously strong willed, which was actually an attractive quality to Sybel. So long as they understood where her boundaries lie.

OOCI'm SO SORRY it took this long! My priorities are all scrambled. Forgive me!

[Vanator]

Vanator's appreciation of Sybel's functional yet form fitting apparel was apparent to the young woman, who was more than willing to explain its origins. No, garbing such a lovely girl in the voluminous robes of the desert would be a shame. The pants and blouse was much more to the taste of the Drykas man.

“Let’s hope you ride better than you drink, or you’ll be hanging off your saddle. Perhaps you may get to see more of me if you can keep up.”

"Oh, I don't think I will have any trouble keeping up!" His grin was laced with mischief. Vanator was not sure if the woman understood his idea of riding together, they would be sharing the same horse. Sybel exhibited the sharpness of wit that she aimed at him early the last night, before their conversation turned to deeper things. The rather brazen teasing sparked a deep-seated flutter at Vanator's core, one that would persist as long as he was in the presence of the beautiful Benshiran.

The Denusk guided her again through the encampments of Endrykas, drawing tactile excitement from the feminine hand he clasped. "What are they?" Once he had mentioned the rolls, and the potential for ruined plans, Van was not sure if her inquiry regarded the bundled goodies or his intentions. The Drykas chose to answer the former. "These are Denusk rolls, I think you will like them." He replied, clinging to the bundled pastries. "I have already eaten, but I hope you will enjoy some while I finish preparations." Sybel may have just awakened, but she was willing to converse, and Vanator again fell into a lively exchange with the witty girl.


“I’m not a morning person, So if I seem unnaturally testy, that’s just the evil manifesting. Pay it no mind.”

"Evil huh? What dark depths have I yet to plumb?" He turned a mischievous smile to the dark haired woman. Van did not consider her behavior particularly surly, he preferred to call it sass, not unlike the spirited nature of a fine horse. Though some women would find the comparison to a horse unflattering, to a man of the horseclans, what could be more appealing than an woman that encompasses the quality of a fine horse...beauty, strength and spirit?

The couple entered the compound of the Denusks, attracting the smiling eyes of not a few family members. None approached, allowing the heir to pass through without a fuss, knowing Vanator's aversion to over-attention. Behind the large, blue-striped pavilion, near a side tent, a small Drykas girl stood next to a dun-colored mare, a yvas was already strapped to the horse's back.

Vanator turned to Sybel with a wide smile, the anticipation apparent in his gaze. "This is my cousin Jinna," he gestured to the tawny pre-teen, "And Jin, this is Sybel." Vanator's gesture was sweeping, as if introducing a dignitary. "You are pretty..." the girl giggled, "Van likes pretty girls, but I think you are the prettiest." Vanator shot her a mock evil eye. "Hush you!" He tousled the youth's long mane, then gave her a gentle push at the shoulders. "Thanks for getting Backlash ready, no run along to your chores."

Vanator released Sybel's hand to caress the Strider's dark mane, leaning up to the mare's ear to whisper some unheard greeting. Then the Drykas handed the wrapped biscuits to his companion. "Have all that you want." He winked and disappeared into the small tent, emerging with his arms full. He methodically packed the yvas, a small leather bag at the back, a rolled blanket and two waterskins. Then he slung his battle ax from a loop and strapped his bow and quiver to the tack as well. Patting Backlash on the haunches, Vanator turned towards the Benshiran.

"I hope you don't mind riding with me, I want to keep you close... for safety reasons of course." The look in his eye and the curl of his smile indicated safety was certainly not the sole reason for the arrangements. He hoped Sybel was alright with it. With skilled movement, Vanator mounted the Strider, scooting his rear to the back of the yvas, making room in front of him for Sybel. With a pat on the leather seat before him, the horseman extended his hand towards the woman.

"Shall we ride, my desert jewel?"

[Sybel]

His approval was much appreciated though unsurprising. Drykas wanted their women strong. Then again, no assumptions could really be made about Vanator. Even his continued favor came as a surprise. She’d been a little too sleepy to think of it earlier, but as they walked the insecurity began to fester. Perhaps her staying power was evident in the fact that they hadn’t made love. Still, it was unfair to think he was courting her just to get between her thighs. Other women no doubt would perform that function just as well. Plus, she’d resolved not to make assumptions. Not all men were lecherous dogs - just some of them.

"Oh, I don't think I will have any trouble keeping up!" He exclaimed, though there was a hint of bemusement in his tone. Her brows furrowed. Sybel hated feeling as if she’d missed something. The way she’d thought of it, they’d be riding two separate mounts. The Benshira resolved to suspend any more thought until after she’d eaten. They moved quickly through the various tents, clasped together for all to see. Her heart quaked at how clearly he bestowed his affection. The prying eyes that followed were intrigued, irritated and amused. Vanator’s proximity alone was intoxicating but the idea that their budding relationship was no secret gave the wild woman an even stronger glimmer of hope.

"These are Denusk rolls, I think you will like them." He indicated. "I have already eaten, but I hope you will enjoy some while I finish preparations." Sybel said nothing but her lingering gaze spoke for her. The pointed interest showed that she was indeed far hungrier than she’d realized. Her stomach gave an impatient little gurgle, and she was half-tempted to glare at it. At her warning, he seemed completely unphased. "Evil huh? What dark depths have I yet to plumb?" She laughed a bit, looking upon him fondly. “You’ll see. You’re lucky I like you,” she teased with a knowing grin.

They finally reached his dwelling and the nerves set in. Sybel had never once been formally introduced to a man’s family and it dawned on her that she might be in over her head. Mercifully, he guided her straight through the living area without hesitation. A small sigh of relief escaped her lips. Those who’d loitered in the tent seemed happy at the sight of them, which served to hearten her a bit further. The Denusk Pavillion was not as judgmental as Kavala had led her to believe.

Once in the stable there was an adolescent girl who stood next to the horse. She had sandy hair and wore an innocent expression. "This is my cousin Jinna," he gestured to the youth. "And Jin, this is Sybel." The desert-dweller gave her a welcoming smile. “Nice to meet you,” she said politely. Jinna opened her mouth candidly. "You are pretty..." Sybel giggled. ”Van likes pretty girls, but I think you are the prettiest." That of course was all the time she’d be allowed. Vanator immediately shoo-ed her from the room. "Hush you!" He cried, mussing her hair affectionately. ”Thanks for getting Backlash ready, now run along to your chores." Begrudgingly, she allowed him to push her from the space.

Finally, the fingers of his hand disentangled from hers as he reached out to pat his mare. The free hand gave her the cloth-wrapped rolls. "Have all that you want." He encouraged, turning to his steed. As he began to work she sat and unfolded the little snack, eyeing it with undisguised glee. When he back was sufficiently turned she began to devour them, making no pretense at formality. The sweetness was just right in relation to the thick, full bread. It was delectable and before she knew it, she’d eaten every last one. Guiltily, she jumped to her feed and wiped the sticky residue on the backs of her thighs. He must have seen it, as they were all set to go.

"I hope you don't mind riding with me, I want to keep you close... for safety reasons of course." That explained the look in his eye earlier, then. They’d be riding with one another. That was fine by her. He seemed well-equipped to travel through the grass and she was willing to place herself in his custody. Her eyes twinkled. “Of course.” She replied, eyeing him with a mixture of desire and love. He smoothly mounted and gestured for her to follow, holding out his hand.

"Shall we ride, my desert jewel?" She grinned and took his invitation, following suit. Once on the saddle she felt incredibly tall – more so than when riding Eplah. The feeling of their bodies huddled so close together sent shivers wreaking havoc down her spine. One hand rested on his knee behind her. The temptation to run it up his thigh was nearly an urge, but she suppressed it. “Lead on, brave warrior.” Her voice was only for him to hear.

[Vanator]

Backlash only shifted slightly as the woman settled into the yvas in front of the Drykas. Vanator was heady with excitement. To a Drykas horseman, there was little that was more satisfying than the feel of a Strider's barrel between your knees, feeling its broad chest expand as it breathed beneath you. A Drykas rider had great power and grace at his command. That joy became euphoria when the yvas was shared with a young, beautiful woman, with Sybel in particular. Neither man nor woman were shy, leaving no space between them as they shared the leather seat, Sybel's feminine form molding against Vanator's sturdy frame. A slender hand rested on his knee, and the Drykas wished for it to slide up as much as its owner felt the urge to move it. Composing himself, Vanator realized he had one more introduction to make.

"Backlash, this is Sybel. Sybel, this is Backlash." The mare swung its head back at the sound of her rider, her noble head nodding as if in greeting. Then he made ready to depart. His hands reached around Sybel, to rest on the bar at the front of the yvas. "If you need to, you can grab hold of this to steady yourself." His head was just behind her's, to the side, and he spoke gently, his mouth close to her ear. "But feel free to grab whatever you wish if you find the need." The broad smile could be heard in his playful voice. Vanator's hands slipped from the hand hold, pulling back just far enough to rest them on the gentle curve of Sybel's hips. With a nudge of his knees, Vanator urged Backlash forward. The Strider took an easy walk, and Vanator used the hands on the woman's hips and his own body pressed against her to help her match the sway of the horse's gait, so all three moved in a smooth, fluid motion.

Vanator guided the Strider out past Endrykas' perimeter posts and into the tall grass. His eyes surveyed the landscape, already alert. Discerning his bearings, the Drykas again employed knees and heels to direct Backlash in the desired direction. Being attentive to the world around him was proving a challenge, his awareness consumed by Sybel's presence, from her aroma, earthy and spiced, to hold on her swaying hips, to the pressure of pelvis against pelvis and thigh against thigh. It all heightened his being, from nerve to muscle to flow of blood, all affected by the woman and Vanator's quickly deepening affections for her.

He allowed some distance to accrue between the tent city and themselves. Tearing his focus from the desert girl, Vanator looked out onto the grass. With a small measure of concentration, the glowing strands of the djed Web became visible to the novice webber. Viewing the Web was a small indulgence, providing the Denusk a sense of completion. Man, woman, horse, land. To the Drykas horseman, it was life in its perfection. For a moment, Vanator found something he had ached for, wholeness. His hands slipped from Sybel's hips to wrap around her abdomen.

"Thank you for coming. I can't tell you how much this means to me." He spoke into her ear, a thick, emotional tone that surprised even himself. A hand lifted to brush aside her deep brown hair, making way for the soft kiss pressed against her neck. It lingered only a moment, yet the man savored it. Hands moved, lower this time, resting on her hips just about the bend of her thighs.

Vanator's head lifted, near hers still, but his voice was brighter. "Do you want to see how fast a Strider can gallop?"

[Sybel]

Despite the years she’d spent in Endrykas, the Benshira had never been atop a Strider before. Sybel felt content to be so arranged – horse, woman and man. Her body flush against Vanator’s was a perfect fit and it made her imagine the possibilities that might follow. She blushed at the thought. He was happy, she could tell; Drykas were incomplete without their horse. Add in a woman and they had the world at their fingertips. "Backlash, this is Sybel. Sybel, this is Backlash." Much to her surprise, the horse turned to acknowledge her. “How do you do,” she responded with a wry grin. Vanator’s capable hands reached forward to pat the bar sitting before her. "If you need to, you can grab hold of this to steady yourself." She nodded, her head bobbing ever so slightly in front of his. She’d ridden countless times before but he didn’t know that. Plus, it was her first time ever saddled with anyone else – excepting when she had been very small.

His warm mouth was abruptly at her ear. “But feel free to grab whatever you wish if you find the need." The ghost of his breath teased at her. The woman shifted her weight in reaction, giving the sensation away. It was completely impossible to hide how incredibly wicked he made her feel, given their seating arrangement. Instead of responding with words, the webbing between her thumb slid up his thigh. It was a slow, sultry gesture. Two could play that game if he really wanted. “I think I know what to grab…” She murmured. It was a little over the top but she was feeling absolutely wild.
The Drykas’ hands rested on her hips snugly so that they might all fall into stride. Secretly she suspected it was more than that, but certainly wasn’t about to file a complaint.

Van seemed completely at ease despite the danger they might face. His easy posture helped her relax. She ceded control to this newfound lover with a small sigh. His woodland scent seemed to ruminate all around them and that blessed aroma engulfed all else. Sybel’s hand slid back to the cap of his knee, absently caressing its surface. By the way she moved she was not exactly a novice rider, but certainly no expert. The Benshira kept the motion of the horse despite her stiff, upright bearing. It was difficult, adjusting to a brand new steed and riding with a stranger all at once. They rode in silence for a time, the dull cadence of Backlash’s hooves echoing off the grass. There wasn’t an adequate way to express how her heart swelled to be sitting against him. Sybel felt happy and safe. That was a feeling she hadn’t experience for what’d seemed half a lifetime.

Having a penchant for reading her thoughts, Vanator leaned up to her ear once more. "Thank you for coming. I can't tell you how much this means to me." His tone was rich with unspoken feeling. One hand lifted from her hip to sweep the hair from her neck, leaving it bare. His light kiss sent her shivering. “No.” She replied, just as emotional. “Thank you.” It was all she could manage before falling to pieces. That would be terribly inappropriate given all the fun they were bound to have. Taking a deep breath, she steadied her heart.

It seemed he too recovered, because in a tick he spoke again – this time with far more enthusiasm. "Do you want to see how fast a Strider can gallop?" He wouldn’t see, but her smile turned to a smirk. “I thought you’d never ask!” She exclaimed, leaning slightly forward in anticipation of their flight. The walk had been nice but Drykas horseclans boasted some of the fastest mounts in Mizahar. Sybel was eager to experience that for herself.

[Vanator]

If Vanator had ever doubted that the day would be an exciting one, Sybel dispelled those doubts. Sleight of hand and almost seductive in word, the woman enrapt her Drykas man with anticipation. Her comments teetered on bawdy, and received a guttural laugh of approval from the masculine Denusk. Whether they would be able to resist the intimacy they had stalwartly delayed or give into the powerful draw between them was yet to be seen. One thing Vanator knew, the longer they waited, the more precious and desirable Sybel became, and the more he wanted to experience her in every fashion.

Sybel fell easily into the gait of the horse, lithe form keeping her bearing steady as hips and spine swiveled to match the rock of the mount. Of course she would know how to ride, Vanator thought, having come up from the deserts. But riding a yvas was a bit different from a saddle, and the lack of bridle and reins sometimes put off outsiders. But not his desert gem.

The enthusiasm Sybel expressed at the prospect of riding a running Strider pleased Vanator, though he expected nothing less from the woman who had revealed some real daring. As the Benshiran leaned forward in preparation, the Drykas squeezed his legs around Backlash. His hands rested on Sybel's thighs loosely. "Hold on." He admonished.

With an undetectable signal, Vanator sent Backlash into a dead gallop. The mare seemed as excited as her riders, and she launched into a run, powerful hooves digging up divots as she propelled herself forward. She was making good speed, her long dark mane fluttering behind her, just as Sybel's chestnut locks whipped around Vanator's face as he leaned around her. But Backlash was not up to full speed.

Suddenly, the Strider broke into a new gait. The Drykas mare made contact with the djed web beneath them, drawing on it to gain incredible velocity. Her hooves devoured the grass as they raced across the open ground, the ride smooth and steady. Sybel could hear Vanator laugh with joy over the roar of the wind in their ears as they both instinctively leaned forward further. He pressed himself against her. Strong hands reached for her shoulders, sliding down lean arms until his hands rested over top of the Benshiran's. Then he laced his fingers with with hers.

Slowly, Vanator guided Sybel's arms up and out, until their limbs were outstretched at their sides. Van held her close to him, using the press of their bodies to ensure she stayed securely in the yvas. Riding a racing horse like that was something Vanator had done from childhood. Freeing and almost frightening, the sensation was the closest thing he could think of to flying.

[Sybel]

Leaning forward was not necessarily the right course of action, given Vanator’s tone of voice. "Hold on." She was half-tempted to ask where, but didn’t want to press the issue. Instead her deft fingers laced around the yvas’ bar as they took off into space, the mare’s gait breaking into a run. Her dark hair fanned out with the wind, surely blinding the rider seated behind. The speed was impressive, Sybel had to admit. Eplah was getting a little older and couldn’t quite run full tilt the way she used to. Sybel’s barking laugh was swallowed up by the roaring air around them.

Abruptly, they subtly lurched forward into a more rapid pace. Her heart nearly vaulted from her throat - their speed was unreal! Sybel’s pulse raced alongside the streamlined mount. The woman was completely exhilarated. Vanator’s victorious peal of laughter touched her ears and she chorused along, delirious with joy. His hands grasped her gently, sliding down her arms to lace into her trembling fingers. The Drykas’ body was completely aligned with hers and she could feel the pounding of his heart, too. Never before had she experienced such complete harmony.

Very carefully he outstretched both arms until they were level with their shoulders, like two pairs of fleshy wings. Never had Sybel dreamed she’d know what it was like to fly and yet now she felt it. Soaring through the air with a strider as their guide, she saw now how their culture had truly been formed. She understood the legend of the mighty strider Ravikas, flattening the earth and making way for their ancestral Sea of Grass. The idea a horse could run faster than the wind itself left a deep impression on her heart. Sybel felt she comprehended a part of Vanator she never would have otherwise. Her chest swelled with gratitude.

Sybel gave a triumphant ’whoop’ as they ran. She pressed her agile body even further into his, reveling in the sense of completion she found there. Idly she wondered where they’d stop to rest, but it was easily dismissed. The woman couldn’t care a whit if they ever returned at all. They’d scour the earth from the jungle to the sea and as long as they were together, the scenery was irrelevant. Her aqua eyes absorbed the vivid green scenery that blurred past. The rolling, open earth was welcoming. The horizon held unlimited potential. For the first time in that day, she noticed the crisp blue sky above. Van’s presence had a way of disarming her so completely, she began failing to notice obvious details.

“Where are we going?” She called back to him, her voice touched with humor.

OOCSorry for the lack of length! I didn't want to assume we'd done anything we hadn't!