Closed Damsel in Distress [Shahar]

[Naiya]

Rue

Summer, Day 25, 513 AV

She had just come from a merchant's shop and stopped at Maybell's for a rest before continuing on her way home for the evening. She showed Maybell the things she had bought at the older woman's request, an archery glove and an armguard. She has been practicing shooting at targets and had gotten her arm in the way of the string, it wasn't her first such encounter, but a more severe one that convinced her she did need the bracer after all. Mostly she had gone out because she was going stir crazy with nothing to do but lay on her bed roll and heal.

Her windmarks were still fresh and painful, but she couldn't stand the recommended recovery -bed rest. The elder woman smiled at Rue's explanation, understanding clear in her face, and offered her a fine linen dress that needed the knot work embroidery that Drykas were so well known for having. Maybell bundled the dress up, adding a second paper wrapped bundle of uncut cloth for Rue to 'use as you will'. Rue knew what it was and welcomed the woman's gift, a distraction for while she rested.

"Are you sure you can take it all?" Maybell asked, watching as Rue carefully loaded her things into her arms. Rue nodded more assuredly than she felt. She had left her strider and her knapsack at home in the small corner of the pavilion she had to herself. Her horse she had left because she could not ride him, and he was all too likely to try and push her around in his usual playful manner, and her bag was abandoned in favor of just carrying her coin purse at the waist of her dress because the bag was heavy and coarse and would rub on the sensitive skin of her back.

While both decisions had made sense when she made them, she was beginning to regret them as she made her way towards home, loaded down so that she could barely see. She ducked behind the shop, walking down a less busy path in hopes of avoiding most of the street traffic.

"Excuse me," She murmured, stepping around a man who stood outside a nearby shop front, and in the process stepping right into the path of another man who bumped into her, nearly knocking her off her feet and sending a startled sound out from between her lips.

Two large arms wrapped around her and her items, settling her back on her feet with her things intact. "Ah, I'm- Thank you." Rue spoke, but the first man's voice drowned hers out as he spoke, not releasing his grip around her smaller frame.

"Watch where you're going, Ren, you nearly killed the lady!" The man, Ren, laughed.

"A shame that'd been too, eh? She's a pretty one ain't she, Landon?" When the first man, Landon, laughed, it was a different sound. Lower, more of a chuckle and distinctly masculine, it chilled her.

"Let me go, please." She added the last as a precaution, she didn't want to get herself into any more trouble than she had already managed to stumble into. Landon squeezed her tighter, leaning down over her smaller frame so he could whisper into her ear.

"And why would I do that?" He asked, breath heavy with the scent of drink. Too late, she thought, trouble had already found her. She muffled a pained sound as he gripped her more tightly, readying herself for the struggle she could sense coming.

She tossed her head back, connecting with the side of his face, then before he could recover she ducked out of his loosened grip and turned to run. She didn't make but a few steps before a hand struck out and grabbed her wrist, yanking against the mark left there from her accident with her bow and causing her bundles and gear to scatter across the ground.

The force of his pull swung her around and she found herself face to face with Ren, the smaller of the two men but still towering over her at something like five or six inches taller. She turned her hand in his grip, using her trapped arm to send his elbow into the air where she could use it to move the rest of his body. Her free hand grasped his elbow, pushing up and towards his head to knock him forward then to the ground.

It would have worked, drunk, his balance was shot anyway, but half way through the motion the stretch of her back reminded her that she was technically wounded and the sticky sensation wasn't just sweat anymore.

She cried out as the pain washed over her, nearly encompassing her entire body, and it was all she could do to stay on her feet. She gathered herself, landing a low kick to the man's knee before spinning around to find his partner.

Too late, she saw him just before he swung and she only just ducked beneath the blow, returning one of her own to the soft spot just below the ribs. The next thing she knew Ren pushed her forcefully against one of the support poles of the tavern they had stumbled out of. She hit her back and her head hard, the pain and the hit to her head causing the world to take on a soft, slow quality.

When she tried to move he shoved her again and she fell against the support reigniting the searing pain in her back. There was something sticky on her neck, she noticed, and her back too. One of them, the bigger one - Lenden, Landen- yelled something at her, but she only got pieces of the words.

"A woman like her would be lucky to have a man, a real Drykas to teach her some manners, to show her who's boss, and maybe let her share his bed."

But dazed as she only got small parts of his angry words.

"Lucky... a real Drykas... who's boss... bed." The last word was the only one to really reach her and she spat at him, guessing the insinuation. A hand across her face split her lip and knocked her to the ground just inside the empty tavern, her legs tangling in the fabric of her dress.

How had it come to this?

Nightsong

[Colt]

Thoughts of the crater did not often rise in Shahar’s mind, busy as it was with grass and horses and throwing spears and whatever else came at him during the days that he had spent shadowing the city of tents. Now, however, it rose with a vengeance; the solitude, the quietness—it pulled at him, almost like a physical force. Of course, anything was better than being lost in Endrykas.

The crowds in the streets had eased somewhat as the sun began to make its descent, but it did not do a great deal to ease to hunter’s tension. His head felt like it was being crushed from all sides, his throat was swollen and it was difficult to swallow, even to breathe. He had been looking for a supply pavilion and had lost his way hours ago and he really, really wanted to go home. He wanted to brush Akaidras and hug Khida and make sure Slither was alright and great petching Zulrav, if he spent much more time in this accursed tent city he would rip someone’s ear off.

Purple swam before his vision as claustrophobia took hold of his heart, crushing his chest until he couldn’t move his lungs properly. No one saw him stumble from the street into the thick of the tents, pale and appearing as if he was about to fall over. In a few strides Shahar couldn’t hold on any longer; he fell to his knees, and it was all he could do to keep the contents of his stomach down. Still, he was no longer on his feet, so his swaying was a much smaller issue. It took only twenty seconds for his vision to clear.

The hunter stood slowly, careful to keep his breathing slow lest his claustrophobia return. The walls of the tents around him were far too large, far too constricting; where was the wind? How was he supposed to breathe in here? His pace was tight and paranoid, and his forehead had become clammy with sweat. His hands shook with trapped energy with nowhere to go, and he was sure an eye was twitching. He needed to get out.

It was then that he caught the faint sound of voices. Shahar bared his teeth in exhausted anger; were even the alleys not safe? The voices were ahead, but if he walked quietly then he might be able to go past them completely unnoticed. With that in mind he began to walk just a little more slowly, his feet falling just a little more lightly. This was what allowed him to catch the unmistakable sound of fist against flesh. He stopped.

The words were gruff and slurred, marking that the speaker was very inebriated. The words themselves…

His need to get home became suddenly less pressing. The hairs on the back of Shahar’s neck stood on end and he sank into a half crouch. A few jagged steps took him round the pavilion that hid the voices, still vibrating with the pent-up need to defend himself against something intangible. But now, it seemed, he would have an enemy that was tangible.

It had been seasons since he had uttered a sound like the violent and primal snarl that ripped from his gut when he slammed into the closest of the men. One eye twitching, the hunter pulled back a lip to expose flashing teeth in threat; Drykas hands had woven the cloth on his body, carved the javelins at his back and forged the axe at his hip, but the man himself… all that seemed Drykas—all that seemed human—had fled from his posture, and in its place was a snarling, savage beast that just happened to be in the shape of a man.

He snapped his jaw and slashed at the man he had slammed, nails scoring three deep scrapes along his cheek. Another step, a punch to the stomach; the predator continued to push, forcing the man back up, and, with his enemy so removed from his senses, he met little resistance.

That is, until his companion found it prudent to club the hunter in the head. He stumbled and his vision swam, allowing his first opponent opportunity to recover. The predator staggered, clutching at his head with one hand, and the two of them squared up on either side. They were ready to fight.

[Naiya]

Rue

Rue only paused a moment to wonder what sort of animal had made it this far into the safety of the tent city before she scrambled to her feet. She searched the dim tavern for a weapon, settling for a mostly empty glass mug that was heavy in her small hand.

Armed she moved back to the front of the tent, hoping the two would be distracted enough by whatever had stumbled upon them that she would be able to slip away, but the scene she came upon changed her plans.

A new Drykas was standing before them, more animal than man in that moment and ready to fight. His movements were quick, flowing from one to the next with the same feral grace that you would expect from anyone who could produce a sound as he had. Human nails turned to weapons and, Rue was pleased to see, it seemed her rescuer was more than able to hold his own against the drunken man. That is, until the second man stepped in, ham like fist connecting with the new arrival's head.

When they had maneuvered the man between them it was time for her to step back in, and thanks to the distraction provided she was ready to do so- this time more prepared for the pain that would come with her actions.

She slipped out of her cover in a crouch, directly behind the smaller man, Ren, striking as his weight shifted onto his front leg. She kicked the back of his knee, taking his balance and sending him into the dirt on his knees. The heavy mug in her hand served its purpose as she broke it over his head, his hair saving him from the glass, but not the force of her two handed blow.

He fell face down in the dirt, and Rue hoped when he woke from his nap he would be sober and repentant.

After a moment of recovery for her hands she moved again, moving so that she could see both men, unsure if one or both were her enemies. She lifted her hands in front of her, arms outreached and with open hands ready to hit or block at moment's notice. Landon, the man still standing, gave her a disgusted look and she grinned at him.

"Not so pretty any more, huh?" That tended to happen when a man discovered that the pretty girl in front of them could toss them around easily enough. Rue had made peace with it, and if she was being honest, she was proud of it. She shifted her leg, falling into a wider stance, she would be ready for whatever came at her next.

Nightsong

[Colt]

He shook his head, still disoriented, but managed to catch the solid thump of a body hitting the earth. One of his attackers seemed to have found himself prone, while the other had become suddenly distracted by whatever had brought that particular event to pass. It gave the hunter enough time to regain his senses at least—and that was all he needed.

Not even sparing a glance towards the woman standing over the unconscious drunk, he slammed the man again as soon as he was capable. The upright one stumbled into a pole, giving the hunter ample time to snag the back of his shirt and swing him around, over a raised foot and send him tumbling to the ground. The inebriated Drykas was still conscious, but only barely. His snail-like writhing would be easy for even a child to end, but the hunter made no more moves to continued his assault—not when his claustrophobia had reached the zenith of its attack.

He sank to his knees, clutching at his burning chest with one hand and his head with the other. He couldn’t breathe. The tents were closing in around him and his skull felt like it was being crushed and he needed to get outside and he needed to get outside now!

[Naiya]

Rue

Rue hesitated as she watched the Drykas collapse in on himself, clutching at his head and chest like he was in pain. The other drunk lay mostly still on the ground, his partner lay at her feet, she was free to go. She could have left. Picked up her things, went home got cleaned up, and not moved again until the next morning when she'd had some time to let the burn of her battle fade into nothingness.

Something had happened to the man, though, when he selflessly jumped into her mess and rescued her. The least she could do would to be to return the favor.

Cautiously she approached the man, worried that he might lash out at her if he thought her an attacker. "Are you alright?" That was a silly question, obviously he wasn't, but she continued anyway. "Sir, please let me help you. Tell me what I can do." She kept her voice soft, comforting, as she approached him, wary of his reaction.

She eyed the two mostly unconscious men on the ground and decided that they needed to, if nothing else, move away from the others. "I'll help you up, we can move away from these men, get some air, anything." She murmured almost pleadingly. She didn't know what was wrong with the man, and she could do little until he responded to her. She touched his shoulder gently, hoping to garner a response from him.

Nightsong

[Khida]

At first, Khida had no understanding of what struck her. Separated from her bondmate by near half the span of the city, the falcon perched atop his tent, as was her wont even now; that Shahar was now aware of her Kelvic nature, her ability to take human form, affected Khida's daily habits hardly at all. She looked on as Slither prepared the evening meal, and did other of his usual chores, content to wait for Shahar's return. Or... nearly content. For in truth, something nagged at her, a persistent tension which had the falcon fidgeting ever so slightly on her perch. She felt... uneasy. Not the unease of a storm, and the reddening sky was clear besides; not an unease she could ascribe to anything in the camp. But it ate at her all the same. A sudden, vivid surge sent the peregrine into the air with a flurry of slate-feathered wings; she rose up high above the tents and wheeled around on a vector chosen purely by instinct. She wanted the widest of open spaces around her, and indeed had the vast expanse of the sky practically all to herself as the day faded... yet this fact did nothing to soothe the tension coiling in her core. Khida gave it what it seemed to want, and still it ate at her, pushing her onwards. Onward over the city, above tents and broad avenues, horses and dogs and humans... ...on, until outer and inner perceptions abruptly snapped together in a unanimous stop. For that form there was intimately familiar, even if his situation was not: half-supported by a stranger, two males sprawled before them on the ground. But Khida understood, then, that the strange and unaccountable tension had not in fact been her own. Dropping down towards a nearby tent, coming to land on one of its supporting poles, the peregrine decried -- loudly -- the circumstances she found the humans in: ki-ki-ki-ki-ki . Any ear might readily interpret the falcon's stridence as a scold, and in fact it was. But when she'd finished, Khida paused, then cocked her head and whistled a softer note towards them, what seemed more like a concerned query.

[Colt]

He was vaguely aware of the woman’s voice, even though the words themselves were lost in the crackling buzz that filled his head. Weakness shot through him in a manner not unlike pain, but when she touched his shoulder he couldn’t react—all he knew for sure was that he needed to stay on the ground, to ride out the waves of hot and cold until they had run their course. Wait, he signed with jagged motions. Wait.

Then, without warning, something pierced the veil he had fallen prey to. He couldn’t define it, not entirely; it was like a warm stone in his gut, one that remained immovable despite the claustrophobic attack washing through his body. It was there, but it was also not quite there, though it gave him something to cling to as the storm passed its peak. It was the inexplicable knowledge of not being alone.

He raised his head, but did not look at Rue; his gaze was instead focused upon the sky, following something hidden in the darkness. Within moments the flutter of feathers through the air fought its way to his ears, followed by familiar ki-ki-ki-ki-ki. Khida.

The claustrophobia was beginning to subside, and through the cloudy haze came a tumbling mix of relief, gladness to see her, gratitude, and the desire for her to stay near.

He swallowed great gulps of air as his skin once again began to feel. The sticky heat of the summer night still pushed at him from all sides, undaunted by the sweat upon his bare back. He straightened, but the rush of blood to his head stalled him from rising; he needed to move as slowly as haste could allow. The walls of the tents were still closing in, choking him—out, he said to Rue, outside, open. Desperate.

[Naiya]

Rue

He told her to wait, and so she did. Not all together comfortably, either. Not that he looked any better off than she did, but with three different men crippled at her feet, Rue looked not the victim of the situation. Tension dug at her, and so she paced a short path hoping to burn away the feeling.

Rue jumped at the harsh calling of the bird, tension and adrenaline rushing back to her. Her desire to help had kept her near, a debt owed to the man who had helped her, but she was beginning to wonder if she needed to seek help for him beyond what she could give. Worry kept her tethered, hovering, useless. Pain was beginning to return to her, reminding her that the dampness on her back was more than just sweat, and that soon her back would be one burning spot of agony.

Much to her relief the calling of the bird perched across from them seemed to help the man pull back from his trouble, he straightened further and finally offered Rue an alternative to waiting.

Out. Outside. His hands moved in jagged movements that spoke of his need. They were already outside, the darkening sky was proof of that, it must be then something else. Open. Desperate. More words that spoke of the same.

Beyond the tents? It wasn't safe, but then again, maybe it wasn't so safe within them either. It was the only thing she could think of, so she would take him to the edge of the city.

That posed another question, how would she get him there. He didn't seem as though he could walk on his own, did she offer him a hand? A shoulder? She couldn't carry him, that was clear, but with his help she could probably take most of his weight.

"Leave the city?" She questioned, hands signing 'open space', 'close' and then an offering, pressed towards him with the lingering slowness of sign that spoke of a question posed 'I will help you?'

She moved closer to him, having not realized how much space she had put between them, and offered her arm to brace him.

Nightsong

[Khida]

No clear answer came in response to the falcon's whistle, from either man or woman. Khida shifted on her perch, from one foot to the other, fidgeting with unease both her own and otherwise. Her bondmate's distress continued to beat at her from within, but its tenor shifted; he seemed to rally himself, perhaps even around the Kelvic, as hints of gratitude and appreciation threaded in around the rest. The falcon chirped again, not questioning this time but reassuring in timbre, as she tried to project a sense of support towards him. The cause of his state eluded her still, even as he signed towards the woman -- the gestures were not ones she could interpret -- which meant she couldn't fix the problem. But she would surely remain beside him as long as she might. The woman seemed to understand what he tried to communicate, addressing him in Pavi both spoken and signed. She stepped nearer to him and offered support, to which the falcon tipped her head the other way, considering them intently. She guessed the woman meant to help the hunter move somewhere -- perhaps back to the camp? She glanced in that direction, sighting on a tent whose profile was just visible in the gloom, more an impression than anything else at this range. Khida whistled again at the humans below, to attract their attention, then flew over to the other tent. Landing with great deliberation on the nearest pole, she turned back to see if the woman had deciphered her intent to guide.

[Colt]

He heard the woman’s inquiry, but he did not see her signs between the darkness of the night and the darkness of his eyes. Khida sent another chirp, one of reassurance and comfort, and he felt her worry like his own. Already he could feel the attack almost gone, leaving a thundering headache in its place. He hurt and he was tired, and all he really wanted to do was to go home.

He managed a jagged nod when the woman stepped closer, offering an arm. He took it shakily and hauled himself to his feet. Though he swayed a bit, he remained upright, and was in enough control of his senses to catch the flutter of feathers as Khida took to the air.

Ah, he saw was she was doing, and he was thankful for it. He was still disoriented, and certain that he wouldn’t have been able to find his way back on his own. He subconsciously kept his hand on the woman’s arm, half-signing Ruby, Topaz, between, outside, before moving to follow his bondmate.