[The Wildlands] Amazing Grace (Closed, Grace)

[Abashai]

Timestamp: 10th Day of Winter, 510 AV Location: Unamed ruins, Wildlands Status: Closed, tag Grace Cady Abashai had heard the ocassional pinging of metal on stone in the distance. It was an unusual sound to hear in the Syliran wilderness, at least one he had not heard before, and it made him curious. Nya had gone to hunt this day on her own. He had prayed for a good kill for his wife, some meaty prey that would sustain the Kelvic forest cat. He knew too, that she would faithfully bring something back for him. Even now, if he stood quiet, he could tap into her being, feeling the Kelvic's primal instincts churning as she tracked some quarry. It was seducing and compelling. But Shai did not linger long, and did not contact her, leaving his bondmate to her stalking. In the meantime, the Benshiran conducted his morning devotions and performed the mundane chores of tending to his arms and armor and the couple's supplies. But the desert man grew restless as the hammering continued. Deciding to investigate, Abashai donned his chain mail, cumbersome but necessary, and his khopesh before preparing the horses, (he could not leave them unguarded), and rode through the hardwood forest on Sus, the pack horse tethered behind. The erratic clanging grew near, intermittent as Abashai neared the edge of the forest. It opened up to a rolling meadow, brown, windswept grasses partially concealing the ruins of some ancient structure. A group of men worked amid the large, rough-hewn stones, some chipping at rocks with small tapered hammers, others sifting through holes hacked out of the hard ground. The Benshiran remained concealed in the woods, turning to travel the edge line to circumvent the field. Once on the other side, a distance from the rest of the group and hidden by slope, a single individual seemed to be working. She was perched on an old broken stone block, intently scribbling in some bound journal. His curiosity piqued, Abashai held still. He reached out to Nya, the distance reducing the bond to a simpler acknowledgment of general emotion and, detecting nothing out of the ordinary, dismounted and proceded out of the woods towards the pale woman.

[Grace]

With her journal situated between long steepled legs, she sat, scribbling furiously. Wearing wire rimmed glasses that were clearly not her own, she continually fumbled with them, pushing them up the bridge of her delicate nose with her middle finger. As she wrote, she would continually refer to pile of parchment that spread like a skirt from her hips. She stuck the quill between her teeth, biting gently as she unfurled a large, ancient scroll, holding it as thought the very fabric were made of gold. Her chin lifted, lowering her gaze to properly peer at the scroll through the ill fitting glasses. She studied it carefully until catching site of the stranger over the top of the page. All motion stopped as though frozen and her eyes focused on him...still as a statue , she watched. Several moments passed, neither with comfort or discomfort, they passed in a vacuum as she sized him up and then she lowered the scroll, rolling it carefully as she watched him like a hawk. Her pale eyes held focus as though she were ready to attack. After removing the quill from her teeth she poke, her voice had a soft lilt that matched better her sweet face, than her fierce eyes. Oddly, as the words emerged, her attention returned to her journal, speaking to him as nothing more than a passing curiosity. "If your interest ventures further than standing there staring at me, then proceed and come here. If it does not, than you are free to go, as I will do nothing more interesting than I do now." After pushing a strand of blonde hair behind her ear she began writing once more, clearly aware of whether he chose to approach or not, but offering no more of her attention until he faced her.

[Abashai]

The woman seemed out of place, considering the harsh Wildland environment amid which she so casually sat. She seemed more suited to sitting at a desk, or in a library in Zeltiva or something, with her pen and paper and old scrolls and those strange seeing things scholars seemed to where only to look over them at you with condescendence. Which, oddly enough, the young woman then did. The man froze as she stared at him deadpan. What first appeared to be a kind-faced girl had suddenly become an authoritative woman with unamused gray eyes, who seemed unhappy to be interrupted. Abashai was not a man easily intimidated, having seen things few mortals have experienced. But one glance from this person gave the Benshiran pause, as if he were back in the Seats of the Sons, entering the office of an irritated instructor. Then the librarian spoke. Abashai chuckled at her, not derisively, but honestly amused by her candor and lack of pleasantries. There was something to be said about someone who did not beat around the bush. He had learned to appreciate that trait living with Nya. There would be no dainty pleasantries or polite meaningless conversation with this woman. The desert man shook off his hesitation and allowed his curiosity some room. leaving the horses graze, Abashai drew closer to the studious woman on the rock. "Can I ask what is going on, what are you doing out...here?" He motioned with a wide sweep of his hands. He assumed it was some archeological or academic endeavor. Given the nature of he and Nya's monumental task, such activities warranted some attention.

[Grace]

When he had committed to approach her, she closed her journal and offered her full attention to the Benshiran. Taking her glasses off, she threaded the bow through a chain she wore around her neck, and let them hang there like a necklace. She relaxed back onto her stone seat, outstretching one of her long legs. Until he was next to her, she said nothing, simply watching him with keen eyes, taking in every detail of the man. At her hip, nearly hidden beneath a stack of fragile papers peeked out the hilt of a sword, and at her other hip flashed the lethal, hooked point of its mate. She made no movement to retrieve them, but sat relaxed, watching her guest approach. Her face was that of a girl, slightly rounded, with full pouting lips, and a pale pink hue flushed over her cheeks, giving her skin a soft glow. She looked harmless, sweet even, while in contrast, her finely toned body and penetrating eyes looked fully capable of wielding both swords as the maker had intended. When he reached her, the very corners of her mouth turned up in a faint smile. She brushed a long hair out of her eyes and looked up at him, listening to his words, and carefully wording her response. "Of course, you are free to ask what ever you wish. " That was the scope of her response, making it clear that he could ask any question, but if it was her inclination not to answer, she would refrain. "Grace Cady. And you are? "

[Abashai]

Abashai approached with the appearance of a casual gait, yet every bit cautious. Many enemies he and his Kelvic mate had made, and the Benshiran was always careful. He also never forgot the likes of Kiphos Shaik, an acquaintance with the unnerving ability to change his appearance so convincingly that when he appeared as a woman, his true identity was in indistinguishable. As realistic a woman as the one perched atop a stone before him. She set aside her work to address him, which Abashai found encouraging. But as he drew near, observing and examining her as he did with all strangers, she did pose some interesting dichotomies. In appearance a youthful innocent, attractive and fresh-faced, yet possessing the gray steely eyes and casual confidence of an experienced woman. Likewise, where at first she seemed academic and intellectual, the detection of not one but two bladed weapons at her waist, and the hint of lean muscles concealed along her deceptively lanky frame inferred the woman was much more than a jotter of notes and a student of dusty scrolls. Likewise, she seemed unconcerned that Abashai was in fact larger, armed and armored. The desert man could be seen as imposing, tall and broad-shouldered, chain mail beneath his heavy coat, a broad iron khopesh strapped to his back. Shoulder length hair blew unkempt in the light breeze. Numerous markings adorned his body, from shiber characters tattooed to his cheeks and forehead, to the spikes inked on his wrists, to the curious symbols etched into the palms of his hands. Abashai could see her response was calculated, delivered as directly as her first words to him, but the intent behind them unmistakable. She commanded the conversation, it would abide only to what she wished to discuss, and she would have no regrets should it end at any time. Acceptable conditions. The stranger offered her name as well, and the Benshiran took it as an invitation to enter the dialogue. He replied in his thickly accented Common. "I am Abashai." She needed to know nothing more than that for now. "I assume this is an archeological dig. What is is you hope to discover amid these moss-covered stones and shards of broken pottery?"

[Grace]

Her use of movement was very economical.. remaining as she was, slightly 'dug in' , so to speak. She hugged her arms around her chest and leaned an elbow on her raised knee, narrowing her eyes just s bit as she considered his question. Before answering, she glanced around at her tools, maps, journals. "Abashai....."* She repeated his name, giving it a new sound simply by adding the lilt of her voice. " Benshira, is it?" She lifted her hand and absently placed it along the column of her neck, letting it rest over the scrolling image of a long feathered quill. "By appearances, you seem a capable man. What does anyone hope to discover amid 'moss-covered stones and shards of broken pottery'? "She repeated his words verbatim, clearly listening to everything he'd said. Taking a pause, she looks him over, noting those things apparent and not, committing each to her memory. She met his eyes once more and answered his question. "The truth. Not as relayed and revised through years of impartial retelling, but the truth that can be gleaned from the source." When she actually spoke more than a few words, her eyes held a passionate fascination with her subject, offering the first real glimpse of what fire lay within. She opened her arms, motioning those treasure that lay carefully fanned around her. "This is the source... and it will tell me everything I need to know." She sat back once more, satisfied that she had answered his question. Both legs were outstretched now, and she casually draped one over the other at the ankle, moving with languid grace as she made herself more comfortable. "That is a substantial blade for one who seems only to seek information." She did not waver.. her muted gray eyes still locked upon his with confidence and underlying sense of entitlement. "Or is there a second goal to your visit? What do you hope to discover amid these moss-covered stones and shards of broken pottery, Abashai?" Her eyebrow peaked, almost imperceptibly... and for the first time, a soft smile upturned her pouting lips.

[Abashai]

Abashai stood, not relaxed, but more at ease as he continued to evaluate the nature of the young woman before him. His arms crossed over his chest with a rustle of thick fabric, chain links and creaking leather. His countenance was polite but not open, the wariness still visible in his crystal blue-green eyes. Grace was very deliberate. That much was easily apparent. She was in no hurry to answer him, without words establishing again that she was in control of their interaction. 'Abahsai' rolled off her lips as if it were familiar, seeming to deduce his origin as much from the sound of his name as from his appearance. The tall desert man nodded an affirmation, though from the tone of her voice, he could tell she already knew for a fact that it was Benshiran. A slight grin curled at the edges of his lips indicating his delight in her perception. The Benshiran watched her casual movements, noting the inked feather on her neck as her slight hand rest against it. Her youthful and innocent features had given him a first impression that he now questioned. Tattoos, weapons and her confident air, both piqued his interest and garnered his caution. As the curious woman continued, it became apparent that she was assessing him both with her ears and her eyes, even as Abashai evaluated her every move and utterance. Gray eyes lit up as she spoke of truth and history. It was the sort of answer one would expect of a scholar, philosophical and impassioned. Grace's explanation was more esoteric than the pragmatic swordsman would have liked. But it was clear that was all she would reveal for now. That in itself said something about her. Abashai shifted his feet, hands lowering to rest on his hips. She returned the inquiry, seeming to subtly question his intentions, as any wise woman alone with an armed man should. But her eyes remained locked in his gaze, no hint of fear visible. And surely she did not bear those blades at her hips for adornment. Abashai turned his head slightly, as if to look at the hilt of the arcane blade jutting over his shoulder, then glanced at her own weapons before meeting the gray gaze again. "We live in a dangerous time, even those who only seek knowledge must fear for their lives." Abashai really did not fear for his life. His life had proven to mean very little in the wider scheme of things that havd been revealed to him. His grin expanded to match the one Grace had displayed. It was a game of sorts they played, a parlay intended not only to discover what the two of them would reveal, but what they would not. "I am simply a traveler passing through and came to satisfy my curiosity." The Benshiran refrained from mentioning Nya, seeming wise to do so for the moment. His gaze trailed to the aged documents surrounding her, then to the scattered remains of the ancient structure around them. His hand lifted to brush a stray dark lock from his face before resting a foot on a roughly hewn stone. "What secrets has this old pile of stones revealed." He ventured to press on, still unsure if his intrusion was welcomed or not. But the Benshiran had had very little conversation with other humans, none as intelligent and interesting as Grace. He loved Nya with every fiber of his being, everyday was an adventure with the forest cat. His mate was intelligent and ceaselessly interesting, but her mind and soul were feline. Nya. If he stayed longer, he would have to contact her, she would be very concerned that he spoke alone with a stranger. Abashai leaned his arms comfortably on his raised knee. His wary mask waning, a more friendly smile lighting his sun-darkened skin. "Or, are those secrets just for you?"

[Grace]

Like Abashai, her dealings with others, aside from those she sometimes employed to aide with her work, were few and far between. The life she had chosen was solitary, most of her relationships were with those that had been dead longer than she'd been alive. That said she did enjoy conversation, when it held her interest, as well as the company of others, so long as they knew their place. "Curious..." She paused to think about the word, watching as his stance became less stoic and noting how he leaned in ever so slightly to speak with her. "That I believe." She continued to wear a sweet smile. "It's 'simple' that I take issue with." She dissected his answer as she probably did with every answer she received, her very nature making it a habit. "You do not strike me as a 'simple' traveler. Quite the opposite, if I was to speak frankly." She smirked, seemingly ready to laugh at the bit of irony in her last statement; clearly, she spoke nothing, if not her truth. " Simple." Her smile grew a little wider, and moved from polite to disarming as she leaned over, reaching into a pack that sat by her side. "Are you thirsty, my simple friend?" The last was added with a caste of humor, her words teasing him ever so slightly. " The dust can fill your throat and make it almost impossible to breath." Her words were clearly footed in experience. She pulled out a smallish jug and one mug. After uncorking the jug with her teeth, she poured from it, filling the mug. She replaced the cork and then the jug without ceremony, placing the mug on the stone at his feet. "I've only one mug, so you'll have to use mine." A sly smirk played on her lips and she added... almost for fun. "I can take the first sip... if it concerns you. " Again her eyes flashed brightness, hinting at a playful nature that better matched the appearance of her, but that she had locked away. She relaxed back, returning to a restful spot leaning on the stone at her back, but however casual she may have appeared, beneath her calm shell, she was always ready, wound like a spring with eternal tension. For a lingering moment, she watched his reaction, gauging how he met her offer of hospitality. She noted the respect with which he approached her, one tempered with caution. She began to consider whether there was a woman who had schooled him in that posture, or whether it was more the fact she was a stranger than a woman. The more focused her consideration, the more likely she thought that there was a woman. For she had doubts his treatment of a man would mirror his treatment of her. Regardless, she was enjoying the dance they had begun, wondering what would be revealed in the end. "Now your question." Having offered and provided a drink, she paid it no more attention, moving back to their conversation. "They are not secrets at all." She tucked a small braid behind her ear, causing a faint jingle of beads, metal and glass, a musical surprise woven into her blonde hair. "You just have to be willing to search. As yet, those things I have discovered are but threads of the whole. Ask me when I lie about to die, and I will tell you everything I have learned." On her instincts, she ventured an educated guess, bringing it to light in her next question. "You seem half of a whole." She paused, watching his eyes. "If that is the case, why are you alone?" She was guessing, based solely on his treatment of her, and his response would provide her with answers. Like dropping a stone in a glassy pond, the ripples of his reaction would give her more information than any verbal answer he might provide. She briefly considered that his counterpart might be poised out of sight, ready to overtake her, but it seemed paranoid and in conflict with what she had already discovered about Abashai.

[Abashai]

Grace was not only very intentional in action and word, but engaging. Her smile spoke an invitation to engage in a dialogue that would require his full attention, for the young woman surely took to heart all that she heard, sifting each phrase for meaning as she sifted through her ruins for 'truth'. The Benshiran's smile widened, but offered no retort to her accusation that he was more than he appeared. It was quite apparent that both of them were more than they appeared. With curiosity he watched her draw the mug and jug from her pack. Her subtle jibe earned a chuckle from Abashai. He watched her pour the liquid into he cup and set it down before him, instead of handing it directly to him. He stood again, leaning down to take the mug. "Unless you have the Talderian flu, I have no issue with sharing your cup." His own grin turned wry, appreciating her relaxed humor. "I am grateful for the drink. Where I come from, it is customary to offer a visitor a drink of water. It is also an insult not to accept." He lifted the cup in salute to the woman before taking a long drink. Over the edge of the cup he could see Grace watching. She was the inquisitive type, and she seemed to be examining him like one of her old scrolls. Abashai smiled behind the mug. There were things he would let her discover, others he would not. The Benshiran resumed his eased posture, one foot propped on a stone leaning on the raised knee while he sipped at the cup in his hand. His glance darted toward the horses, who seemed intent on grazing on the grass amonst the stones. Just as Grace seemed to study his words for their true intent, Abashai hung on the woman's words, spoken with such thought and insight. They were like the passages in the Penitas, the Benshiran sacred writings, rich in meaning and intent. And not always easy to decipher. He nodded in understanding. He did understand, if only that humans could spend a lifetime of discovering and still not reveal all there is to know. He wondered if even the gods knew all truth. He drained the mug, setting it down near her pack, but not drawing too close to the woman. He returned to the stone, this time seating himself upon it, facing Grace. He had entered a level of comfort in her presence. Not comfortable, but a degree of confidence that she desired to converse, and that the intrigue he found in her was mutual. That suspicion was confirmed as she made a more personal, and rather insightful, inquiry. Half of a whole. That statement was probably more true for Nya and Abashai than maybe anyone in Sylira. Even as he spoke with Grace, he could feel the very real absence of his mate, literally half of the enhanced perception their bond provided fallen silent. His hand moved unconsciously (or perhaps consciously) to brush aside his hair, revealing the chevas mark on his neck, a stylized design of a oud and khopesh entwined with a feline image. He could not hide the mark, so there was no sense in lying about his Kelvic wife. Abashai found it difficult to lie unless lives were at stake anyhow. "It is true, I do not travel alone, my wife is with me. She is hunting now." The Benshiran left his response at that, instead turning his attention again to the meadow around them for a moment. His gaze returned to Grace, a more playful grin offered to the woman. " I assume an intellectual like you takes all you learn and go to some loftly tower in a cozy university to ponder your discoveries?" In truth, as academic as Grace spoke, she did not appear to be the professor type. He was beginning to see her as the type penetrating ancient tombs, dodging traps as her poor hired minions fell to poison darts and pitfalls.

[Grace]

Grace watched as he drained the mug, returning it to its starting point. She reached into her pack to pour herself some water in the same manner, with the cork trapped between her teeth she listened to his response to her assumption. Ha! I knew it! The little voice in her head responded, partaking of its own smug celebration. As she let the water pour into the mug she heard his question and paused… looking up from beneath long pale lashes. Her answer was delayed as she forced the cork back into the neck of the jug and leaned over to place it in her pack. Once she had returned to her relaxed posture, back resting against a stone, one corner of hr mouth lifted and she answered. "My use of those things I discover is less theoretical than you might think." She takes a long sip from the mug. "I am a practical woman who appreciates a little dirt on her hands." Her smile increased. She found the conversation about Abashai much more interesting than talking of herself, so having answered his question, she turned the tables once more. After all, reciprocity was the key to any good conversation. When she'd asked about his status as half of a whole, she made sure to note each physical detail of his response, from the clearing back of his hair to expose a telling mark, to the unconscious smile and the hint of sadness in his eyes. What he had with his mate was truly a partnership... two halves of a whole... and the feline image he wore tattooed on his skin confirmed a far deeper bond than that of mere lovers. " A Kelvic is it? I have never had the pleasure of Kelvic companionship in any form. I would imagine there exists a shorthand, an honesty that it inescapable." She thinks quietly for a moment, taking pause to sort out her own opinions. "That is something I would greatly appreciate in more people." She smiles. Delicate fingers lifted a key that was worn around her neck and began turning it end over end as they spoke. It was the first mindless act she had employed, having grown more comfortable with the Benshiran; she allowed the betrayal of her less telling habits. Her fingertip traced along the edges of the key following its contours as she watched him. "What manner of cat is she? " She focused again on the marking, enjoying the intertwined cat with the kopesh that clearly mirrored the one at his back. The questions were flooding her mind, but as with everything, save sex, she was methodical and willing to wait for discovery. At the moment, it was hardest for her not to gather up a journal and record each nuance of their interaction, but she refrained... for now.