Closed Nox Caedibus [Zith siege]

[Colt]

73rd of summer

It is in the bating of the world’s breath that the storm rings loudest.

Each breath was so shallow that his shoulders were almost still. Each blink was little more than a flicker, something that would be missed if not seen at just the right moment. His frame was coiled, like a snake preparing to strike, and yet he could have been set in stone for the motionlessness that had taken him.

He crouched upon a rise ten or so yards away from the last pavilion of Endrykas, gazing into the west. He hadn’t set up camp today. The tents had been loosened from the travois, but he made no move to raise them. No pit had been dug for fire, no space cleared for comfort.

His Strider stood a little ways off, watching the sunset with as still of a manner as his rider. Akaidras had first begun watching the horizon two days ago. Shahar knew better than to question the animal. The animals always knew first. But today… today, he could feel it. Something deep that made his breath light and quick. Something that ached through his bones and grew a lump in his throat that refused to be swallowed. It vibrated through the bond to she who shared his heart, filling every fiber of his being with the agonizing feel of waiting.

The wind had died.

Something was coming.

[Slither]

Slither waited, patiently watching his Master's odd behaviour. The camp hadn't been set, the fire hadn't been lit. He hadn't been instructed to do so either. And the tension, the adrenalin flowing through the man's veins, seeping through his sweat, singing a primitive song of fight and fear to Slither's sensitive nose. Thus it was clear to the Dhani that something was... perhaps wrong, perhaps right, but decidedly different. Today was not an usual day, that much he had clear; and what he waited - with as much indifference as one could wait something that might very well kill them - was for the nature of said difference to make itself evident. In another time, in another place, he knew that the very same signs that warned the animals, the instinct that told them this almost-magical stillness would break soon; they would've spoken to him too, they would've warned him. But it would have to be a long time past time where they would do so, since they'd been beaten out of him shortly after his captivity started. Now, he realized, grimacing slightly, he had to rely on reading a human's actions; a human who was apparently more in touch with Caiyha than himself right now. He should've felt annoyed at himself, at least ashamed, but there seemed to be nothing inside him that cared anymore - a vicious circle, in which he knew he should be bothered by his own apathy, but the apathy itself kept him from it. He'd walked those thoughts repeatedly, and he had no reason to do so again right now. So he straightened up, stretching his muscles discreetly in a routine he'd learnt from his time in the mines - designed for men, but at least partly effective on the snake-people. His vertebrae cracked loudly, tendons groaning as he pushed them to angles, prepared them for efforts that he really hadn't had to during his stay with the human. Whatever came, he'd be ready - he might not be overly concerned about his own death, but if it didn't matter to him at all he wouldn't be standing here, either.

[Khida]

Red-tinged light splintered off the horizon and arrowed out across the grasslands, painting them in shades which seemed more... ominous... than Khida usually found dusk to be. She couldn't give a reason as to why, unless it were the tension which radiated from within, cast almost like a shadow by the hunter crouched on the rise. Though his actual shadow lay beyond her, stretched across the otherwise featureless grass, she could not so evade the wary anticipation which radiated down their bond -- and wouldn't, truth be told, even if she could. The falcon had come to rest on the travois, when it became clear the hunter was not going to proceed further in making their evening camp. She had waited there, watching him with concern; for all that the dusk wind carried something which made her own hackles want to rise, the Kelvic's chiefest concern was her bondmate, not the nebulous strangeness which gathered in the air. That, they would deal with when it came, as they had all other of their past travails. But he did worry about what might be lying in wait for them in the Sea -- what might be coming over the horizon. There was no directive given through their bond, but Khida took flight in a whir of wings, climbing into the twilight sky for the greater perspective that altitude might afford her. Whatever was coming, the falcon expected she would see it -- provided it came before the sun's light faded entirely.

[Colt]

Every sense was extended to its farthest reach, drowning Shahar in a sea of hyperawareness; every flitting blade of grass sent a shock of adrenaline down his spine, which gathered and roiled angrily without being allowed release. He could feel his tension extending to Khida, even felt it affecting Slither, but still did not turn. Even when his bondmate took to the sky in a flurry of feathers, he remained locked towards the horizon.

The sun had touched the distant line between sky and earth, and was making her way beneath the darkness. Though he could not look directly at her descent, he could still see the shafts of gold that continued to soar through the reddening dome above, the shafts that were rapidly receding.

It was with patient resilience that purple crept up on the red, steadily beating back the remainder of the day as it always did.

Syna continued to fall, until only her crown remained.

The world took a breath.

The sun disappeared.

It was like a great cloud, at first, and Shahar narrowed his eyes in an attempt to sharpen it, for surely no cloud could move so quickly. It seemed to rise from the skyline itself, hiding the brilliant red that still claimed the sky, darkening it, warping it into a red the color of blood. It was then that he heard it: the high drone, something like sand being poured onto the ground. But it grew louder, clearer, until he knew with a jolt of fear that it was a sound made of many voices, but instead of words they used piercing cries and clicks and screeches that layered over one another to make a single, horrible, endless cacophony.

He snapped from his vigil almost violently, wheeling around to face Slither and turning his head to the sky. Come down, he signed, every muscle in his body screaming fear and run, find safety. His gaze snapped to Slither, and it was with a jagged shout that tore at his throat that he tossed out Common.

“Slither,” he commanded, “Get on the travois. ” He gestured to where Drelah was still harnessed. “Now.”

He turned to call Akaidras, but the stallion was already by his side. The hunter leaped into the yvas and whistled sharply for Drelah, bidding him to follow, now, important. The Seme’s eyes were wide with fear, but he pranced nervously over to his master—he wanted to run, to get away from the screaming cloud that soared towards them with the speed of Zulrav himself.

Shahar’s eyes landed on each member of his family, making sure that they were all there, and only then did he let Akaidras surge forward, leading them all towards the safety of Endrykas.

The Zith were coming.

[Slither]

The sun began its descent just like any other day, uncaring for the worries of the three people underneath it. And, when its fiery gaze finally sunk under the horizon, leaving nothing but the dark of the night, there was but a moment of silence, a bated breath from the world. And then the Zith rose, a screeching, flapping mass of bodies taking to the darkened skies, a maelstrom of ferocious activity whose only focus, it wasn't hard to tell, was in the hunt of flesh and blood, a spreading wave of destruction that would leave the Sea of Grass bereft of anything other than its namesake. Slither held back a shudder, incapable of distinguishing anything beyond the mass that was blanketing the skies, but knowing that there could be no good news coming from that. The expectation from before had, as always, led to an unpleasant outcome - in this case, whatever this howling mess was. He was commanded to get on the travois by his Master, who seemed to have recovered faster than he had from the image, and was already preparing to depart immediately. And Slither saw no reason to stay here any longer, either, so he quickly complied, becoming part of the horse's cargo once more - he would've disliked the way it made him look just like another one of the man's properties, if he'd had any issue with that. But now, in a situation urgent enough to force the wordless man to speak... if there was any time when those concerns might be irrelevant, this was it. The falcon descended from the skies, perhaps having gone up during the show, perhaps before while Slither was reveling in the almost forgotten primal feeling of the situation. They were all setting in barely a couple of seconds since the nature of the tension had revelaed itself but, judging by the speed at which the predators crossed the sky, even that might be too much. The Dhani pumped his fists as his travois moved - slow, deliberate clenching motions. He felt no fear, he felt no concern. He felt no anger, either - but rather, like a distant spectator who was uninvolved with all this, he watched the hunters as they attempted to close the distance between them. And he knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that if they grew closer he'd be left on his own to fend them off, while his Master's faster horse carried him away to safety, but even that didn't manage to elicit more than a mild annoyance from the Dhani.

[Khida]

Nothing revealed itself to the falcon's eyes as she climbed into the air. Summer's amber grasses, bathed in orangey dusk light; the poetic might have said the grasslands seemed sparked to fire, if fire ever came without smoke and angry heat. The sky above glowed with the vivid rainbow of day's last gasp -- violet in the east shading slowly through azure, then rapidly to watermelon, orange, gold, and fire-red in the west. Beneath that colorful dome, nothing stirred. The cattle stood still. The horses stood still. Even the Drykas around them seemed to take notice, looking to their animal companions, to one another, and back again; they seemed to slow, to look around and talk to each other or to their beasts. But it was not them the falcon needed to see, and after a brief survey, she turned about and directed her attention once more outwards as sunset's glow began its inevitable fade into night. Motion. A vast darkness, moving, like a great flock of birds setting out for migration. But no birds Khida knew were so large, nor shaped as these -- no, the large, dark winged forms in their multitude called up another memory entirely. The memory of a predator who had chased her halfway across the sky, caught her,shaken the Kelvic until she shifted, and then vanished... ... but something about this mass told her these would not leave so readily. The falcon cried alarm, unnecessary as it was -- everyone who heard the drum of black wings, the shrill cries of night hunters, knew to be alarmed already. And she turned back, afraid -- not for herself, but for those below, for the one whose life was more important than her own. The hunter signed to her, summoning her down; Khida went, willing enough to cede the sky to the bat-beasts' greater numbers. But she was not willing to land, and flew a low arc past the travois towards the hunter and back around the other side. Even as he did, she stood watch over them all, for all that the falcon Kelvic could do no more to hold back the oncoming Zith than she might the ocean tide...

[Colt]

The stallion’s hooves seemed to barely touch the ground as he sped towards the city. Shahar leaned back as Drelah fell behind, weighed down by so many things. Akaidras paused, switched his lead, then again, frantic to get into Endrykas but pulled back by his rider and the duty any lead stallion would feel towards a herd member. He slowed for Drelah to catch up, then put on a new burst of speed. Another command to slow, and he let the Seme catch up again before sliding into another sudden sprint.

She wheeled just above them, over to the east and then back again. He saw her, and he feared, feared for her safety and was overcome by a single, piercing desire for her to stay close. Already he could hear the shouted alarms, the stray scream of fear and the clanking of so many weapons drawn and readied for the oncoming storm. But these did not concern Shahar, not as his family concerned him.

Inside the city, chaos was breaking. People ran from one place to another, seeking shelter, defense, finding their loved ones. A shriek pierced Shahar’s haze of frenzy, and he turned to see a woman on the ground, having leaped back in shock at the sight of the gigantic snake-man on the travois.

“Drelah!” he shouted. “Come!”

The hunter threw himself to the side, and Akaidras neighed in protest but still slipped between two pavilions, where there was far less space but no people. The Seme snorted in fear and did as asked, pulling the travois—and Slither—out of sight. Why hadn’t he thought of it before? Slither, he was a Dhani, a creature of obscure legend and bed-stories. The Drykas would have at him as easily as they would any Zith!

Shahar bid Akaidras to slow, much to the stallion's displeasure, and the horse danced restlessly as Shahar spun him around and passed Drelah, blocking the Dhani from sight.

The Zith were growing louder.

Shahar slid onto the ground and approached Slither. The usual tiptoe he adopted around the Dhani was no longer there; his posture was full and poised for combat at any moment, but he did not draw his weapon.

“Slither,” he said, throat already raw from words. “Danger. They,” he gestured beyond Akaidras, to the Drykas scrambling to prepare for disaster, “fear. Fear you. See monster. They—”

His words were cut off by a scream of pain, and he suddenly forgot what he had been saying. Then thunder, and wingbeats, and he knew the Zith were here, and all he could think was the silent scream for Khida!

[Khida]

Close, be close battered at her from within, unrelenting summons which warred with the instinct to flee, to take cover -- but the internal conflict was brief, its outcome inevitable for the falcon Kelvic. Khida came about again as the hunter dismounted, as the ominous darkness drew close enough for more than wingbeats to be heard. The bat-beasts shrieked and snarled as they came on, whooping with malicious energy; no doubt, they intended those cries to strike fear into the hearts of their prey.

They succeeded.

The Drykas ran, and hid, and gathered weapons; Khida could see little of their frenzy past the pavilions, but she heard it. She heard the cries of horses, and the lowing of cattle, and the alarmed exclamations of humans which took on an altogether different timbre as the Zith arrived. Black wings blotted out the sky, and black wings descended, a child's scream piercing the thunderous din.

The world spun around her, as if someone had yanked the ground from beneath her feet. Only she was not standing, but flying... and the world remained in its proper orientation. No, this jarring pull came from within, from the hunter who stood stock-still, frozen like a rabbit in the eyes of a hawk.

Red eyes gleamed over the roof of the pavilion beside them, suspended above a crescent of malevolent glee.

Khida dove, shifting as she went, arms and shins crashing into the earth. The Zith flinched back from the light of her change, but she hardly noticed; her sole fixation was in scrambling up over the travois, hauling one of the hunter's javelins free from its mooring. She couldn't contest the Zith effectively as falcon -- not with the ending of the day, nor with so many in the air. But she could make this weapon count for something, as she planted herself between the bat-beast and her bondmate.

A furious, possessive determination swept away her fear, overwhelming and pervasive as the tide. Any predator that wanted him, would first have to go through her.

Common | Pavi | someone else

[Colt]

A thousand black wings passed overhead, screeching and screaming with joy and with bloodlust that had yet to be quenched. Shahar reached for his javelins, but his hands met only air and for a single, terrifying instant, Shahar feared he had lost them. But no, he remembered they were on the travois, with Slither, and a quick glance confirmed as much. He turned, had taken half a step towards them before a hiss broke his stride alongside a shadow landing on one of the bordering pavilions. He turned, and when he met those yellow eyes his heart stopped.

Images long forgotten resurfaced with a violence that rooted Shahar to the spot, superimposing themselves over the she-Zith that eyed him like a particularly appetizing slice of meat. Images of different eyes, red hair and a malicious smile and a pain at his core, deeper than any blade could wound, a pain that had been endured over and over until even the wound couldn’t heal, only wait until its moment to rise again and choke him with the remembered smell of refuse and sickly sweet poison on wicked clawtips until he couldn’t move, not even to defend himself, until he could only wait as the Zith moved closer.

A flash of light slammed him back into his own body and startled the Zith into a momentary pause. He felt her crash into the ground, and the sheer force of her presence became an anchor against the wave of unwanted memories.

Khida was on her feet before Shahar could offer his aid, darting to the travois and freeing one of his javelins. The bond between them rang with the intensity of her possessiveness, her conviction, breaking over his mind like the ocean and casting aside the painful images with her fury. Shahar reeled for a moment, gasping and grasping and holding on to the clarity it gave him.

Because Khida needed him now, and against such a knowledge as that, everything else could be overcome.

The Zith was moving again, having recovered from Khida’s unexpected appearance, and Shahar moved to his bondmate’s side. There was no time to get a javelin of his own with the beast so close; his hand reached instead for the axe at his hip, hefting it from the center of the shaft. It was heavier in his hand than he’d expected, but not so heavy as to make it unwieldy; it was solid in his grip, gleaming in the dying light as the Zith crept closer.

The past be damned. There would be two for this beast to go through tonight.

[Khida]

Undaunted by the show of force, by the presence of two humans where there had been one -- more meat rose from the depths of Khida's memories, an echo of a voice she desired never to hear again -- the bat-beast hissed. Laughter, or aggression, or anticipation; she could not have said what. But in that moment, that beat which seemed to stretch on forever, she felt as though ice shattered, night shattered, giving way to light and warmth. He stood beside her, strength and determination echoing her own, each reinforcing the other both within and without. And they would stand together, against whatever came.

Including this beast.

It swept down in a motion not quite leap, not quite glide, wings a great black shroud billowing to either side; as it did, it howled an earsplitting cry from which Khida could not help but flinch. Still, she stabbed for its eyes with the point of the javelin, an attack which met and blocked the bat-beast's own reaching claws -- or perhaps the beast batted the spear away. All Khida knew was that the javelin torqued sideways in her hold, then was yanked away altogether, her fingers failing to maintain a secure grip. Unarmed, overshadowed, she instinctively retreated from the swiping claws and the large, looming figure behind them. The Zith tossed the javelin away, disdaining any but its own natural armament, and pressed forward into the ground the Kelvic had surrendered.

In that moment, its focus shifted to the hunter, the weapon he carried. The bat-beast hissed again and sprang for him, closing the gap, claws grasping and teeth snapping.

Common | Pavi | someone else