Closed Until That Day [Ayatah]

[Razkar]

35th Day of Summer
4th Bell
Scattered Bones Compound

Razkar stood by the window and watched the sky above Taloba burn. There was no fear or shock on his face, though, for he knew it was but an illusion. The Sacred City was lit by thousands of torches at night, on every major avenue, in the walls of temples, on corners, from houses. They all formed the same thing: a glowing, fiery patina that settled over the city. It had been the first thing he had ever saw of Taloba, years ago, when he first came.

A glow like some heathen hell, aching through the treeline as one approached, lighting the way for travelers and pilgrims for leagues around...

A smile twitched at his lips for a moment, then was gone. Strange. It had seemed to incredible to him, back then. Awe-inspiring, and so it still was, but in a more... grounded way. Now he knew it was no mythical or unreachable place. It was of stone and bone and dirt and milling thousands, just like every other city.

But it was his city, his people... just not his home.

The young male smiled and his bare chest flexed briefly. He was naked in the half-light of the bedroom, tattoos made all the more stark as there was no cloth or leather to cover them. But at this time, he was always more aware of one of them; one that was no longer just a tattoo.

His gnosis throbbed faintly at the back of his neck, like a tiger at rest. Deadly. Lethal. Swift. Just waiting to be woken...

A shifting of sheets behind him makes him turn. She was still sleeping, and that smile returned, but he bid it stay for a while. Her hair was tangled with exhaustion and twisting as she slept, body on half-covered by the sheets on the bed. She stretched... he feared she would wake... but she did not. Though her arm quested in dreams for his form next to her.

The smile became broader, and the brooding flint in his eyes seemed to fade with it. But it returned when he sighed, face twisted in a brief grimace.

Razkar had come to a decision. For weeks he had ruminated on it. The disasters and problems both of them and all Falyndar had suffered. The final talk they had both shared, entered hesitantly but ending in a declaration of love that took his breath away even now. His Blooding Ritual. His presence before his Goddess-Queen... his questioning...

"I will leave the jungle," he whispered to himself, as if rehearsing, "For the barbarian lands. I will wage war in Myri's name, as is right and just for one of her children. I will take scalps and trophies and all will be for her glory. Ine day, I shall return... and hope to find you here..."

But the male snorted at the words, scratching the back of his head with a wry shake of his head. Oh, very fine, telling them to a sleeping woman. But how to frame them when she is awake and eyes that make your knees buckle moisten with tears?

Well, that is the question...

[Ayatah]

Zeltiva.

It had taken her several days to decide, and she had studied many maps and read two historical books about the cities of the barbarians. But eventually, it became clear that the academic city seemed like Ayatah best option. It was the university that tempted her the most - though the fact the city people spoke Common was also a heavily weighing factor.

She had considered going to the desert, to meet the Eypharians. But there was… something about that plan that made Ayatah uncomfortable. She had spent her life dedicating herself to be a daughter of Myri, to be a true Myrian. It was one thing to leave their Sacred City, but it was a whole other issue to leave it to visit her father’s people. There was another reason as well; one that unnerved Ayatah more than even the thought of leaving her home. What if she did visit the Eypharians, and was happier in the desert than the jungle? It was a preposterous thought, but one that Ayatah could not help but dread. She loved the jungle - or at least she had. But after the past season, she felt out of place. Home was not home anymore.

So she had organised a passage from the Eastern Docks to Riverfall, though that was where the easy part of her journey ended. From there she would need to find some form of cross-country transport to Zeltiva, though she suspected that was easier said than done. She had sent several letters to the Leaping Fish clan - those strange sons and daughters of Myri that housed the small number of barbarians that dare harbour their ships on the Eastern dock - and they had made it quite clear they suspected she would struggle to find passage from Riverfall to Zeltiva. She would need to take what she could… even if that meant sharing the journey with less than admirable characters.

Still, Ayatah knew her decision to travel across the Eastern lands would not be an easy one, so she had not expected any different. She would get to Zeltiva, eventually, even if it meant residing in Riverfall for longer than expected, or jumping straight from boat deck to horse carriage.

She would get there.

And today was the first day of her journey. She was leaving the city, the jungle, the land, her loved ones. The day had come round quicker than she expected, and it felt like the poignant goodbyes of the past few days were not enough. Did she really want to leave? Did she really need to do this?

Yes.

And that was the end of that argument.

Surprisingly, she had slept well. No sooner had the she come to rest in bed, had she fallen into a deep, restful sleep. She would need her strength for the following day - physical and otherwise.

But something stirred Ayatah from her slumber. A voice; quiet and low, a voice that she recognised instantly, without even a shadow of a doubt. She had not caught the actual words, but instead just heard the softened voice of her lover. Who is he talking to? Her long eyelashes fluttered sleepily open, though it took a while for her eyes to adjust to the darkness of their lodge.

”Raz?”

Her arm snaked across the bed, though she knew she would not find him there. He was standing by the window; she could just about make out his shape highlighted by the orange glow from Taloba city centre. As soon as she did, her lips creased into a smile. And for a moment, she forgot what the day was bringing to her.

Then she remembered, and her smile faltered - though only slightly. The idea of leaving the man she loved was an agonising one, but her pain was softened by the vow they had made to each other just a few days previous. Their promise was a true one -- she hoped.

Aya slid out of bed, quietly padding towards him until she stood by his side at the window. No other words left her lips, but her fingers brushed up his torso gently until they rested at the back of his neck. He is a true Myrian now, she thought as her fingers touched the skin where his Mark was.

And she could have stood there forever.

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

[Razkar]

The silken softness of fabrics and pelts shifting, and he knew that she was up. He smiled, seeing her without even turning around. She would have one of her sheets pulled up to half-cover herself, as she always did when she was near a window... and Razkar would find her all the more beautiful and tantalizing simply because he couldn't see all of her. A whiff of mystery and uncertainty went a long way...

Aya's footfalls were soft and almost silent; she reminded him of Tinnok in that regard. Perhaps a half-breed trait? He winced suddenly, face lit by the glow of the burning, sleeping city. He had to stop thinking of her like that... but was it not accurate? She was a half-breed, both Myrian and Epyharian. It was part of the reason she was leaving the jungle, after all.

He sighed, mind turgid... and then she touched him, and it emptied like a vase with it's bottom smashed off.

Razkar's sigh became one of contentment, and he let his head fall gently to the side, resting on a soft pillow of her hair. His eyes closed and he let his other senses sharpen. The smell of her... what did she call them again? Fear-moans? He always thought that sounded so morbid for something so sweet and enticing. He preferred to just call it her "musk".

Her touch was far better, though, and when he felt her fingertips brush his fresh gnosis, he felt a slightly blasphemous tremor rush through him and come to a crescendo at his crotch. He stiffened and the faintest whisper of a moan escaped his lips. Finally, Razkar opened his eyes.

She was there. She was by his side and wanted to be, and loved him, and in the glowing light he felt the urge to just fall to his knees before her. But first he leant down and captured her lips with his own. A soft, gentle and tender caress of lips, stroking her tongue, before breaking away and-

Falling to his knees. Some compulsions can only be denied so long.

Razkar breathed against her belly and wrapped thick, strong arms around her waist, fingers stroking up the small of her back. He rested his cheek against her strong back.

A handful of days. That was all the time they had left before she had to leave. And he had a decision to make.

"I did not wish to wake you, my love."

[Ayatah]

Against the glow of Taloba, the other lodges of the Scattered Bones looked irregular and weird - but there was something incredibly familiar about those small forms gathered around a great orange flame. Ayatah recognised each one even in such poor lighting: Quinneth’s solitary lodge, closest to the bonfire and most central to the compound; her mother’s, where Paira and Vesta would be sleeping (assuming Vesta was not snoring too horrendously); the children’s lodge, which always seemed strange to be so silent. The Scattered Bones were quick to build new huts, so when it became clear Ayatah’s latest romance was not a passing one, a new lodge was built specifically for Razkar and she. It certainly made a pleasant change to not have to share her sleeping area with her cousins, and despite the small size the hut was clean, tidy and more importantly theirs.

She thought back to the past few days, and felt a hunger that would never be satiated. No, she could never have her full of him; his smell or touch or voice or lips. But those memories would have to do for the next… Myri only knew how long until they would be reunited. Ayatah glanced to the far corner of their room, eyes falling to the parcel of belongings she would be taking with her. She would be travelling light, taking only a few changes of clothes, a book, a vial of Eypharian perfume (just in case she found herself near the Desert) as well as the usual things a Myrian was expected to take. Her possessions were bundled into the most precious of them all; the pelt of that tiger.

His sigh caught Ayatah’s attention, and she looked back upon his face, expression softening as it always did. The most selfish part of her wanted to beg him to come with her, to plead and pout until he could not say no. The miles that would eventually exist between them seemed all the more terrifying as she pressed herself against him. Never again would they have a chance to be so close.

And then he kissed her, and the pain and worry left her body through a sigh. Her body responded in the most basic and aroused of ways, finding herself trembling under his touch. He dropped to his knees and those arms that made her feel so safe, so wanted, snaked around her waist. Her fingers brushed his hair, his shoulders and face.

"I did not wish to wake you, my love."

”I know,” she said, surprised at how hushed her voice was. This was one of their final moments in Taloba alone together, she realised with sudden dread. At that thought, she also fell to her knees, crouching on the ground so they were now level. She wanted to imprint everything about him onto her memory so forgetting her own name would be more likely. ”But any extra waking time spent together is nothing to complain about.” She smiled, though it did not hide the anxiety she felt about this day.

She lent forward, hands resting on the ground beneath her as Ayatah imprinted her lips upon his. She would drink up everything about him, filling every one of her sense with little else.

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

[Razkar]

Her touch and the warmth in her flesh... those he would miss most of all. So hard to describe, but perhaps that was because such things were meant to be beyond words. They could not trap them or label them, parcel that wondrous rush of skin on skin into the drab confines of reference. Razkar squeezed her closer, hungry for her warmth and life. Then she spoke and his eyes flickered upwards, but she had already put a smile on her face.

He sighed. She was a smart and beautiful woman, but she had much to learn about deception. He could see the twitch at the corners of her smile, the sadness massing behind her eyes that made her almost more radiant. Fragile, almost. He rose and cupped his hands under her rear, lifting her up gently and grinning wide as he did.

She swore in a most undignified fashion for a young Myrian lady (though she probably heard most of them in the Barracks during her service). He chuckled deep and bass in the back of his throat, that low, husky tone that he knew she loved. One good thing about her being of some barbarian stock: she as small enough for him to do that.

Razkar carried her over to the bed and despite her protests, she wrapped her arms around his neck.

"We may need to... delay your visit by a few days." A wry eyebrow answered his words and he knew her mind was already working around what trickery or ecuse he had concocted to keep her in Taloba. But she wouldn't be expecting this. "I need to gather some things. For our journey."

In the shocked, frozen silence that followed, he traced the line of her jaw with his rough fingers. She was so far beyond his own worth he could scarcely believe she was here. Sometimes he had nightmares that it really was all an illusion, that he was trapped in some awful dream within a dream, and when he woke he would be alone again.

Razkar had been woken, but not in that respect.

"I have decided. I will go to the barbarian lands, on a Pilgrimage."

Her eyes widened slightly, and he was not surprised. The Pilgrimage was something of a rarity for their people those days, especially after the Valterrian when their numbers had drastically decreased. Clans, regiments, fangs, even individuals left the jungle to work as mercenaries or reavers in the barbarian lands, spilling blood in Myri's name and spreading her glory to the distant lands beyond her light. Razkar had thought to do it one day, but... then came the Storm.

Now the impulse was back, stronger, a means to heal and cleanse himself. The Jungle was not where he wanted to be, not anymore. Perhaps he was selfish, but staying in Taloba... it would only make him worse. He felt it and he knew it and he had decided.

But Ayatah was not leaving for war. Not blood. Not scalps or trophies. She was leaving to pursue knowledge, with a mind that could devour libraries.

Such different paths could not be side by side.

"I... I can travel with you to the Eastern Land, over the sea, past the Black Rock. But there were must part, for my trail will take me... somewhere I know you do not wish to follow..."

[Ayatah]

It felt so undeniably good to laugh with him, it was if there were no worries or fears lurking in the world outside -- or even that the world beyond their little lodge simply did not exist. They giggled and chuckled, kissing in between and simply enjoying themselves. After a season of hurt and pain, laughter still felt a little strange, but only in the same way rain feels odd after a draught.

Then came those first puzzling words - and Myri, they were confusing. Ayatah frowned and leant up on her elbows to pay careful attention. They had to delay her visit? But it had taken so much effort to ready herself to leave. She wanted to get it over and done with; the quicker she left, the quicker she would return.

"I need to gather some things. For our journey."

Our journey… He said ‘our’ journey.

She barely felt his coarse hands trace her face. ‘Warriors hands’, she had called them once as they lay in bed, toying with each other as young lovers do. Those hands had killed so many times before now, but they bought just as much pleasure and security as they did death and blood.

Ayatah’s eyes were wide, her lips pursed and head tilted aside. ”Our…?” her voice trailed off, but luckily he provided a swift explanation.

"I have decided. I will go to the barbarian lands, on a Pilgrimage."

If she had been puzzled beforehand, now Ayatah was nothing more than flabbergasted, and her expression said as such. A Pilgrimage? She was familiar with the old tradition of which he spoke about, though that did nothing to dissolve her disbelief at what her lover had just said.

”The Reaver and the Reader,” she contemplated aloud, quoting the name of a book she had read as a young girl. The story was of two people who differed in the fundamental way that the novel was named after. Despite the obvious differences between them, when the two individuals met in a city tavern one night, they became firm friends and met each year to compare stories.

She looked back upon his face, a tired smile on her lips. They had a few more days together, or weeks, or however long it took for them to cross that narrow strip of sea. ”We will leave together,” she said, fingers touching the side of his face. She landed a kiss on his lips before speaking again, ”and perhaps we will return together.” It was a romantic idea, at least, if a little of an unlikely one.

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

[Razkar]

”The Reaver and the Reader...”

Razkar let the grin spread over his face. Ah, yes, he remembered that tale. One of many that Ayatah had stacked in a chest on one wall of the lodge, covered at all times lest the humidity damage the precious parchment. She had read it with him once, and he liked the Reaver. A good, strong, honest Myrian warrior... and the Reader was much like his Aya.

Though the genders were reversed. Can't be perfect, after all.

"Yes, I suppose it will be something like that," he said, twining his fingers in her hands, marveling at her smooth touch. He found himself running his hand over his lower arm idly, just to enjoy the little intakes of breath as the tickling sensation rushed through her, "But we shall meet up more than once a year, I hope..."

”We will leave together and perhaps we will return together.”

He held onto that kiss jealously, hungrily, greedily, denying her even breath as their lips met. How many more chances would he have like this? The two of them, alone, not a stitch between them, without anyone to judge or interrupt? After the next few days, perhaps...

"I do not think so." He said, and the hurt in her eyes forced him to kiss her again, if only the dull that pain for a moment. Then when he broke away, he pressed his forehead to hers and smiled. "But when we do return, we shall find the other waiting." He chuckled at how nonsensical that sounded. "Well... you know what I mean. I made a vow, Ayatah. I will return. Cleansed and with a steadier heart than the one I have now. I am still young, Aya. I wish to reave in the world like my ancestors did, see the breadth of Mizahar at least once... if only to find new races to offer to the Goddess-Queen."

In later days, Razkar would reflect on how savage and hideous that would sound to the barbarian races he would walk among. The idea of "seeing the world" only to slaughter the people you found there... such an objective was beyond cruel, beyond primitive, to those "civilized" people. But to Myrians... it was, in fact, an honor.

They were the children of the Goddess of War. They were her chosen warriors. They bought her gospel to them with bloody blades and the mortal test of warfare.

There was no higher glory. But not all thought that way.

Like Aya.

"But that is for tomorrow." He said, voice a shade lighter, tugging the covers over them and lying on his side, facing her, hands roving over her body. "For tonight... we have each other. I want these moments... locked in my mind. Burned into my memory." He cradled her cheek in his hands and shifted closer to her, front of his body flush against her... very flush, in one particular place. "They will sustain me, my love, as much as food and water. In distant lands and with barbarian peoples, the thought that..."

His voice cracked almost imperceptibly, but he knew she noticed. Oddly enough... it didn't matter. She was his, and he was hers. Razkar found it hard to conceive of a life without her... and he did not care if she knew it.

"... that you will be one day returning to me, and will love me through time and distance... that will carry my feet as much as the grace and strength of the Goddess-Queen..."

[Ayatah]

Ayatah had been told before now that words were nothing but sounds carried by the wind, and that actions meant a great deal more. That night, she began doubt the truth behind that statement.

Their voices were still low and quiet, for fear of waking any of the children who slept soundly in the closest lodge. But the quietness and secrecy of their words were more than made up for in the sincerity, devotion and love in the message. Each time he paused for a breath, Ayatah would plant a kiss on his mouth, sometimes trailing her lips across his jawline or down his neck.

”I wish to reave in the world like my ancestors did, see the breadth of Mizahar at least once... if only to find new races to offer to the Goddess-Queen."

She understood the calling he seemed to hear for himself. Although her own would take Ayatah down a completely different pathway, both of their futures shared an important similarity: leaving the jungle. There was a sense of pride to what he was saying, and she also felt it for him. The Myrians of old very often would travel to meet the barbarians and preach the word of Myri, killing those that wouldn’t listen. But it was a dying tradition; to her knowledge, less than a handful of men and women took on the challenge each year, and it was not unheard of for at least half of those to return within a season, dishonoured and humiliated. But those that survived amongst the barbarians for longer were perceived as the most faithful to Myri, as well as the bravest and most skilled warriors. And without a shadow of a doubt, Ayatah knew Razkar would be the former.

”And you will be successful,” she said, earnestly, wanting him to understand just how highly she regarded his skill and faith. ”If anyone is going to spill blood in the name of our Goddess-Queen, it can only be you. You’re a true solider to Myri, Raz. We are lucky that you are on our side.” She was far from a superior warrior in their army, but Ayatah had shared the company of green recruits and seasoned soldiers alike. The former had marvelled at the skill of the tall tattooed male in the training yards, and even the stiffest of fang leaders had to nod their approval when they saw or heard of his conquests.

Aya mirrored his movements, shuffling closer to him and quivering when their bodies pressed together so tightly. The smallest intimacies between them still quickened her heart, made the breath catch in her throat. She bucked her hips, creating more friction between them in those most intimate of areas. It was not out of lust, though (not entirely, at least -- they were still young and hey, urges!). No, her actions were as much out of adoration and love than simple hot-headed, spine-tingling desire… Though that didn’t stop the tiniest of moans emanating from her throat.

Oh yes, she had certainly picked up on how his voice suddenly seemed quite strained. ”You cannot return to something you have not strayed from,” she said pointedly, wearing that playful smirk she always did when she said something witty or clever.

Then her smile changed into something softer, and there was a new delicacy to her voice. ”Distance and time mean nothing to me, or my adoration for you, Razkar” it would be obvious to him that she was doing her upmost to control her own voice from betraying the emotion that lay behind her words. ”I will continuing loving you even after we have parted, and long after we are reunited. You have me, Raz.” And then once again, that familiar glint was in her eyes, and she dragged her lips from his ear to neck. ”And you have me for as long as I breathe.”

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

[Razkar]

”You cannot return to something you have not strayed from.”

Razkar's lips twisted into an amused grimace and he shook his head in wonder.

"You always were the wordsmith, my love. One wonders where you would be if your oratory were to be put exclusively in the service of the Goddess-Queen..."

”Distance and time mean nothing to me, or my adoration for you, Razkar. I will continuing loving you even after we have parted, and long after we are reunited. You have me, Raz. And you have me for as long as I breathe.”

He sensed the tension returning to her voice, the slight quiver that promised moisture leaking from her eyes; one thing he never wished to see. He softly whispered for her to hush, then rubbed his thumbs gently over her eyes, kissing over every inch of her face before bringing her close to him. With her head in the crook of his shoulder, he rocked her gently.

"Past the vines and through the trees... Over seas and foreign lands..."

His singing voice was not much, and Razkar would be the first to admit that (well, without a flagon of palm wine in him, anyway), but hushed and reverent... he hoped it would comfort her.

"Tis no span or time we count... That bars us from each other..."

Soft, smooth rustling in the darkness. Her legs entwining with him further, pressing herself against him so he almost gasped at the end of that line.

"When we smile and greet in flesh once more... We shall say, "But twas a chime, my love!"..."

He didn't know the rest of it. But when his lips closed on her again and the latent lust in each other finally spilled over, tinged and fortified by an undeniable desire to drink deep from their respective lover once more in the Sacred City, it did not matter.

Taloba glowed beyond the lodge and the twisting, gasping bodies within.

[Ayatah]

He did not reach the end of the song, but Ayatah rather liked that foreshadowing; they would meet again in due course, though that definitely did not mean the end of their own melody. That was up to them, when they were reunited.

Night continued onwards, bringing with it morning that highlighted the two heated forms lying next to each other amongst furs and desire. Perhaps she slept a little, though Ayatah was not certain. Her judgement of time had been warped by their late night conversation, but she was sure that dawn had come too quickly for her not to have slept at least a bell.

The window threw an elongated slice of sunlight onto the bed, bathing them both in a warm ethereal glow. In the sun, Ayatah’s skin glinted ever so slightly with gold, but it no longer bothered her like it had done as a girl. Instead she smiled dreamily, stretching in the light before turning to her side.

”It’s morning,” she said quietly, bringing her leg upwards and half-wrapping it around his waist. But it was no longer her final day in Taloba, and that thought alone bought with it a huge wave of relief that waved over her -- not unlike the golden sunlight from Syna. Thank you Myri. Thank you, thank you.

It was a rare thing for her to be the first one up. Usually, his warrior duties called for an earlier start that her own (on the extremely rare occasion she would not be helping in the infirmary). But something had stirred her that morning, a fresh optimistic feeling that had resulted Ayatah awaking with a smile on her face like some child on their name day.

It was still early, she knew. The rest of her clan were only just starting to wake, and somewhere the still unnamed season-old baby wailed for his morning feed. They would all be expecting her to leave today, and they’d wear that same ‘I’m-happy-for-you-but…’ expression they had donned as soon as she had told them her decision to leave. But a new plan had been drawn.

”Time to -- wake up -- reaver,” she whispered, her sentence separated by tiny kisses she laid on his lips and nose.

Ayatah would have stubbornly argued there was no better way to start the morning.

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