Flashback An Old Vow and a New Face (Ayatah)

[Ayatah]

The fear was too great for Ayatah to conceal as the tiger came bounding towards them. Focus, focus. She forced her attention back to aiming her arrows, but her hits were not so accurate now - hitting the tiger’s side instead of making those all important critical hits.

She had used up over half of her arrows, and was aware that to continue making below-par hits would be a waste of time and resources. She was able to hit a target with impressive accuracy, but doing that when the target was a bolting great tiger was another matter. Focus, focus. She tried again, and her arrow landed in the tiger’s shoulder. It was a better shot, for sure.

The almighty roar from the tiger made hairs all over Ayatah’s body stand on end, a cold sensation running down her spine. Dread and fear coursed through her veins, and she had to concentrate on regulating her breathing.

This tiger was pissed, and he was going to get revenge.

There was something almost… beautiful how the big cat leapt to the tree, it’s great paws swiping for their legs. Ayatah pulled up hers just in time. But she had an arrow in her hand, and as the tiger’s paw began withdrawing away to strike again, she leant precariously forward and planted the arrow into the paw of the beast. It was a movement that she didn’t realize she had done until the cat spat in pain.

From the look in his eyes, it was almost like the tiger knew it had been the woman that had stabbed it in the paw. It struck again, and only because Razkar push her aside, did Ayatah survive the attack.

"JUMP!"

It was more of a graceful fall that Ayatah did, grabbing at her bow on her downfall, but she was unable to keep hold of it, and it thudded to the ground. She landed painfully on her stomach a few branches below, and could not help but screech in pain. It had winded her, and she gasped desperately for air.

"MOVE!"

The best she could do what roll to her back, the branch was wide enough for her to do so, thankfully. Her lungs felt as if they were crushed, and her muscles would not move without screaming in pain. The tiger was above them now, and it swung its bladed foot downwards.

Ayatah cried out as the claws stroked at her stomach. The cut was not deep - she was only felt the tip of the claws - but it reached from her hipbone to just below her ribs. It bought out bright red blood, and Ayatah’s hand went to her bleeding stomach instinctively.

Her other hand went to her dagger. As she saw another great paw heading in her direction, she buried it deep into the tiger’s pawpad. She withdrew it, twisted her wrist, and stabbed it again with the other blade. The tiger retracted its paw with an enraged cry. It gave Ayatah just enough time to slip down to the branch below, a reddened hand still on her stomach.

|| Ayatah's speech || Ayatah's thoughts || Others' speech ||

[Razkar]

Combat of all kinds was, first and foremost, faster than you would expect. Half of training was to make the body's movements smoother, quicker, more willing and able to meet the pulse and rhythm of fighting. Razkar learned that thinking mattered, but reacting was what kept you alive in the heat of it.

Combining them both was the mark of the best warriors.

But as he hung from the branch, half-helpless, and saw Ayatah raked across the stomach, red lines slashed onto her smooth skin, that warrior's composure cracked. His mouth opened in shock as she edged backwards painfully, one hand across her wound, slipping down a few feet to another branch.

She fought bravely. Dagger slashing and stabbing, impaling one of those massive, clawed paws. But the tiger was far from finished, even as blood pumped faster out of its wounds. It breezed across the branch where Razkar was hanging, ignoring him, focused on the wounded, bleeding prey-

-moving past him, then to his side as it slid down to Ayatah's level-

Make it count.

Razkar roared and swung the ax horizontally, burying his ax in the tigers side. Ribs cracked and the head smashed into the other lung. Now the tiger reacted in sheer agony, twisting and thrashing and finally losing its footing, plunging down to the mud-covered ground, fall ripping the ax from Razkar's hand-

-and sending him falling down after it.

[Ayatah]

There was nothing Ayatah could do but cling to her stomach, taking in great gasps of air. Do something, do something. Her mind was thinking a thousand thoughts a chime, and she struggled to calm herself. She saw something huge and striped fall to the ground, dropping like a stone past her and the branch she was sheltering on.

Then she saw something smaller fall, as well, and she with horror, she realised that the tiger had dragged Razkar to the ground with him. He appeared to be without his axe.

Do something!

This time her body reacted, and she moved her hand from her bleeding stomach. Her fingers wound tightly around the handle of her dagger, and she pushed herself up to her knees. The pain flashed through her, but she gritted her teeth and ignored it.

She would not let him die because of a scratch to her belly.

There was a look to her eyes that was different to the barbaric aggression of the Myrians. It was a cold, distant look that could be found in the eyes of her father. Whereas half of her blood was the savage Myrians, her father’s people were deadly in a different manner. Silent, calculating, cold and without a hint of redemption.

The tiger had suddenly become no longer a living thing, but a mere obstacle in her life. It would simply have to be removed.

She moved downwards in the tree - it seemed slow to her, but an observer they would have been impressed with her speed after being slashed so harshly as she had just been.

Ayatah could see the scene better now. Razkar had crushed the animal’s side, revealing broken ribs and pulsating veins. Blood poured out of the animal, it’s life source dwindling rapidly. The attack from Razkar had certainly startled it, but it was not dead. Yet.

She was on the ground now, almost forgotten about her wound. With surprising tranquility, she dragged the blade of her dagger along the tiger’s side.

|| Ayatah's speech || Ayatah's thoughts || Others' speech ||

[Razkar]

Something had crunched in Razkar's side when he hit the ground; if it hadn't been so sodden and soft, it would have been several "things", not to mention his arm. But the impact was enough, jarring every bone he had and sending him crashing to his side-

-a shadow fell across him and he rolled out of sheer, primal instinct-

-just as the tiger swiped at where he'd been.

He managed to get up to one knee and saw it raging, roaring, bellowing its fury to the jungle. But it was slower now, breathing so hard its flanks shuddered with every exhalation. It limped, paw that Ayatah had slashed and ripped now a useless, bleeding mess of flesh and fur.

But it was still growling, still approaching, eyes screaming at him that there was still one death left in it...

Razkar growled back and unsheathed his gladius with a trembling hand. He remembered what he had thought his morning: that he would be too close. But what choice did he have?

But Ayatah would be safe. He could see her now, in the branches, looking down on them. He breathed in, and braced him-

She landed next to the tiger and slashed at its side with a dagger before the noise from her feet hitting the ground had even hit the breeze. Her face was what stunned him: cold, silent... remote. As if the tiger, a vast, monstrous creature designed solely to kill, was merely a problem to be solved with the right blade at the right time.

The beast roared again, tumbling to one side, but snapping around towards her even as she jumped back-

-away from Razkar-

-exposing the side of its neck-

Razkar felt his lips draw back and a screech of barbaric victory that was the voice of his entire race burst from his mouth as he thrust forwards, springing forwards from his bent knee-

-burying the gladius into the tiger's neck, right up to the hilt.

[Ayatah]

It had worked - the tiger’s full attention was on her, not Razkar. Her dark eyes seemed glued the beast, wide and wary of its movements. It was dying, but there would always be some fight left in such a beast. She didn’t even appear to be breathing as she slowly stepped away from it, golden eyes of the tiger looking into her own.

Until something made the tiger jolt, and Ayatah saw… fear in those eyes. Something had made it realize that the battle was loss, and that the Myrians had won.

A noise - something that could only be a war cry, broke Ayatah’s attention.

She looked behind the tiger, and the expression in her eyes completely changed. The coldness and distance melted away, familiarity and… something else replacing it. The tiger was no longer the object of her attention - she knew that whatever Razkar had done had ended the battle.

The tiger would hurt them no longer.

It bellowed out, but it was its swansong - the last roar of a great beast as it came tumbling down to the ground. Where Razkar had appeared from, Ayatah had not seen. But he was alive and safe, if not a little bruised and battered. And that was what mattered, that’s what the battle had turned into for Ayatah.

She finally exhaled, expelling cold air through her teeth as she watched the tiger twitch and sigh desperately. He was fallen, defeated, and within a few moments, he would be dead.

Her heart thudded against her breast, her chest heaved, and her stomach throbbed in agony. But her mind was inexplicability clear. Her fingers released the dagger, and it fell to the ground with a dull thud.

There is always afterwards

The tiger was no longer on her mind, but something else had taken over. Stepping around the dying beast as if it were no more than a child’s toy, Ayatah had almost forgotten about the gash in her stomach as she made her way forward.

There is always afterwards

There was a new look to her eyes now, one made of determination, relief and something else, something new and strange. She had become the hunter - but of a different sort.

Finally, Ayatah got her hands on the prey, on his chest and shoulder. Her own body slotted against his, as she had done only once before - though it seemed so long ago now.

She pressed her lips to his.

|| Ayatah's speech || Ayatah's thoughts || Others' speech ||

[Razkar]

The tiger didn't roar now; it sighed. A great huff of stinking air as it toppled over on its side. Razkar fell with it, hand glued to the bloody hilt of his gladius. He withdrew it slowly, reluctantly... and the creature moaned.

The Myrian male tried to hate the creature, but he couldn't. It was not human, or Dhani, or Fish Person, or even one of his own kind that had tried to harm him out of malice or spite. It was a proud and beautiful creature... but he had to kill it.

He pressed his hand against the bloody fur, eyes boring into the dying, fearful, black orbs inside the tiger's own head.

"Go from your pain into the next world, brother," he whispered, raising his gladius again, "And find peace."

Another thrust, between its ribs, into its heart... and the tiger's eyes closed for the last time...

Razkar paused for a moment out of... well, it had to be respect. Then he withdrew his gladius and rose to his feet. His chest and arm was caked in fresh blood. He was tired, so tired, and they still had to get-

They. Ayatah.

He turned around and she was stalking towards him. He opened his mouth, eyes fixed and worried on the three slashed across her stomach. Then he saw her own eyes. And her walk.

Stalking. People used that word often. But now, it was accurate. But why-

"Are-"

Then she grabbed him with both hand and...

The jungle stilled. This was their afterwards. A bloody gladius dropped from bloody hands and neither of them cared as he reached up to cup her cheek. The sheer softness of her shocked him to his feet and held him there. His heart raced and then stopped. Superlatives were simply not enough, and before he could help himself he caressed her tongue with his-

-and broke away, actually sputtering like a child.

"We-We must-"

She pulled him back with a strength she never knew she had.

[Ayatah]

"We-We must-"

”We have done.”

It was a simple answer. They had done the hardest part of the task. They had risked their lives, suffered pain, and ended the life of a great beast. To Ayatah, they had done more than enough to warrant these quiet moments.

We have done what we came to do.

Ayatah had never been a patient woman. She understood priorities, how some things needed to wait for others to be completed before they could begin. But she had waited - they both had. It was their time, when the first part of their job was done and the second part had not yet started. It was the in between, and the only time they would be in the jungle without being under the constraints of a task.

There were too many uncertainties upon their return to his village. Although he had assured her she would be welcome to stay for more than a night, it was not enough. There was no definite that this would happen - whatever this was. There were still doubts, still things that might stop it.

But Ayatah had to do her best to clutch at what she desired, even if she could not describe exactly what it was.

He had kissed her back - that much so knew, so his breaking away and spluttering had not been through lack of want, but concern over the next job.

”We deserve these in-between moments.” Her words were barely a whisper; he would rely on the shape of her lips faintly against his own to know what she had said.

Her lips met his again, this time softer, with more tenderness and less desperation than before. The hand on his chest ran slowly downwards, ending on his waistline. The feel of his muscles, and his body against hers, made Ayatah smile faintly as she kissed him.

The task of bringing the dead tiger to his village would be nearly as tiring as battling the beast. It would weigh huge amounts, and with Ayatah’s clawed stomach, she would be of less help than she would like. The majority of the carrying would fall to Razkar most likely, unless they waited long enough for her stomach to heal just enough to clot and stop bleeding. But that would take a couple bells at a guess, and she was not sure of how much time they had before they needed to leave.

She just hoped that he would not back away again.

|| Ayatah's speech || Ayatah's thoughts || Others' speech ||

[Razkar]

”We deserve these in-between moments.”

Her lips stampeded any rational impulse he had at that moment. Soft and moist and tasting of the same desire he felt for her. Her hands moved down his body, every brush sending a fresh tremble of excitement below his waistline. When they stopped just above them, he almost lost control.

Thoughts rushed through his head in frantic anarchy. Lust, desire, passion, but others, more pragmatic, trying to supply him with facts. The fact that within three bells the sun would set, and they were at least two from his village... and that was without the huge tiger. The fact her wounds were fresh and still bleeding, attracting Goddess knew what other predators.

But these were distant thoughts, calling to him like figures to a ship that had long departed the store. There was just here, and him, and now.

His hands roved down her shoulders, sliding down her sides under her shoulders... across her ribcage... gripping around her waist... pulling her further into him.

He turned his head and the kiss grew deeper. More ravenous, but still just within the boundary of control. Razkar wanted to look back on this fifty years from now and know it was not just his body shouting orders here. It was something more.

[Ayatah]

Even the jungle seemed to become quieter, as if to allow the two young people to finally enjoy their reward of each other’s bodies. There was a sort of… calmness throughout, but Ayatah did not notice.

She would not have noticed if it had turned dark, or morning had come, or some great tragedy had happened to everyone in the world but them. All of her senses were completely preoccupied with Razkar; his smell, the taste of his mouth, the sound of his breath and his touch --

Oh Gods, his touch

A sound that was very much like a moan came from her throat as Ayatah felt his hands fall to her waist. She happily obliged when he pulled her closer, and her body responded by gently pushing against his.

She wanted him - every cell of hers ached to have him closer, closer, closer to her until there was no difference between the two of them. Images of their bodies writhing together flickered through her mind, and she imagined how his body would feel on top of hers.

But there was something else, as well. She felt something that did not fit with lust or simple desire. It was a want of something deeper. Not just sex, but closeness, a bond. She did not just want him sexually - although she certainly did -, but she wanted him in other dimensions as well. She desired to make him happy, to see that smirk on his lips again and hear him laugh.

It was something new to Ayatah, and somewhat terrifying. But at the same time, it was perfectly natural and… right.

It would never be just… sex Ayatah finally realised, that would never be enough. I want… more

A hand of hers interlinked with his own, her fingertips running over his and she pulled him ever closer. She was willing, and as she let the kiss become ever deeper, she made sure he understood.

This moment would certainly live with her for her lifetime, and she hoped that it would be the start of more memories.

|| Ayatah's speech || Ayatah's thoughts || Others' speech ||

[Razkar]

Her fingers wrapped around his hand and with that one gesture, some... permission had been given. No, not permission; that implied an inequality in power and that was not the case here. Razkar could no more force himself upon her than he could grab the stars from the sky.

It was more an admission. That she wanted what would follow as much as she did. She was... choosing him. The feeling was as frightening as it was wonderful, but he refused to let any doubts hold him back.

He had gone too far to back out now.

No regrets.

The two of the sank to the muddy ground. His hands were moving without his mind's input anymore, sliding under his clothes, eyes closed, lips and tongue caressing hers.

The jungle did not still for long. Birds cawed. Insects chirped. Things stalked and slunk and padded and skittered. But they did not disturb the two.

A bell went by like a chime. Less. A blink, it seemed, and Razkar found himself behind her. Both of them on their side, her back pressed against his front, one arm wrapped around her torso, the other cushioning both his head and hers.

He nuzzled a thick (and, by now, decidedly untidy) mass of curls, inhaled that scent he would remember for decades, and smiled. He was content.

"I hate to be the voice of reason," he said, playful and sad in the same tones, "But we should probably get moved."

He looked around them. Namely the fabric around them. Razkar chuckled and smirked and tickled her side.

"Or at least get dressed."