Skin and Bones (II)

[Kiva]

*
*
*
6th of Spring, 516 A.V

Kiva's bedroom was clean, efficient, lacking the frills of a normal woman's living quarters. No lush rug or curtains, no colorful dresses, candles, or many signs of a feminine touch. The floors were a clean, dark wood, and was rather barren of unnecessary possessions. A place lacking the connection of someone who called it home - somewhere to sleep, but not intended to overly enjoy. The Myrian had no sentimental attachments here.

The bed - pushed up against the wall and beneath a window that allowed sunlight to illuminate the peaceful room - was made. There was a table in the corner, one of the more interesting focal points, as it had a number of things, many cast there with a reckless abandon not found elsewhere in the bedroom. A book, with scribbling and drawings and flower pressed pages. Some humanoid teeth, with dark and rotten coloration, and giant black claws that looked like it had been sawed away haphazardly from a deadly and enormous creature. Kiva's dark blade sat beside it all. Her bag hung on a chair's back, and when she stepped aside for Wikus to join, Kiva slipped off her coat and tossed it on the mattress.

In this part of the Sanctuary, everything was far quieter, with only the sound of crickets, birds, and the occasional bray of a horse echoing inside. The window was cracked, allowing for the spring wind to circulate and permeate the space. It had started to rain, gently with a small sprinkling that cleansed the earth and created music. It was soothing.

"Sit,"

Kiva stepped aside, and went to put down the items she had brought from the kitchen down. Going to the center of the room, she lowered herself to the floor, looking up at the towering man she had invited, "Do you want me to show you now?"

The woman started organizing the items. Bones in one pile, bag of feathers beside it. Rope, needle, thread, knives, bowl all neatly placed. She tried to see what she could be missing, but remembered. She rose, rummaged in her bag a moment and pulled out a clean cloth. It was white and she tossed it to the man to catch. When she did, a smile split across her face, one she quickly tried to kill.

Malediction was fun for her, and now that she was so close to practicing it again, and that she had someone she could confide in about it... it made her eager, "I'm excited," she admitted, casting her eyes to the ingredients. "I enjoy this."

★★★

[Wikus]

Wikus followed Kiva somewhat lazily, finally the soup and the salad having settled and revealing that they had filled him beyond his limits. Overeating was something new to him, as it didn’t happen often in the wild. Now, he not only felt his stomach full and warm, but didn’t feel cold in the rather placidly heated Sanctuary. Civilized life was something he’d miss, indeed, yet it would soon come to an end. Stepping inside Kiva’s room, he’d shut the door behind him and inspect the room. Tidy, organized and clean. Such a big contrast to his own room, which was surely dirtier than the stable stalls. Since it wasn’t his, he didn’t bother to clean it. His home was a tent and he needed nothing more than that. “Good room. Big.” Wikus was impressed she had this amount of space, when he was condemned to roam in an undersized room. His size didn’t quite allow him to fit anywhere, if he was being honest, recalling the Mithryn’s Outpost’s bed he couldn’t sleep in due to its tiny size. Kiva was having a lot more luck. She was also younger than him, which meant she had way more time to find her place in the world. Good for her.


Wikus took a seat in the ground as well, bending his knees and sitting on his rear. Not used to the organization of the female, nor really sensitive about a bit of disorder, he’d toss his shirt into the bed carelessly. “Show me, yes. Let’s see magic.” Stretching his arms and shoulders, he’d gaze out the window to witness the falling rain, eternally thankful to be in the room instead of below the rain. Wikus and water did not mix, most probably because of his fear of it. Even if the female wanted to kick him out right now, he wouldn’t go. Not until the rain had stopped. As the woman dropped the items between them, Wikus’ hands couldn’t help but begin touching it all, taking a hold of a feather or a bone and inspecting it as if making sure he wasn’t going to miss anything. By the looks of it, it seemed to be a very complicated craft. In truth, he was somewhat tense to see what happened. To think that he was to do magic, right here in this woman’s room and under her attentive gaze, was somewhat disturbing. He felt under pressure, as if about to try and tame his first horse.


As the female moved, he looked up at her and followed with his gaze. Catching the flying cloth, he’d inspect it as well and for a second wondered as to why she needed that. Was he forgetting something? It hit him then – the blood. The blood apparently held power, not only because it was supposedly used in this magic, but also because she had drank it. He drank too, and despite the taste he wanted to believe what she had said: that drinking an enemy’s blood would make him stronger. Truth or not, it was something that wouldn’t hurt trying in the future. Her confession came next, Wikus raising his brow. “Good. Then do it. Maybe I get excited too.” Clearly more nervous, he cleared his throat and shifted a bit in his seat. If she was speaking the truth, his concepts and thoughts about magic would change. That couldn’t’ be ignored.

WIKUS

Thanks to Kiva for this amazing template.

[Kiva]

*
*
*

Kiva nodded when he told her to begin, "This will take time. Be patient," She took one of the knives and and scraped along a leg bone, both tibula and femur, cleaning them of cartilage. Ideally, she would have the sun bleach it, allow some time for the carcass to fall off or be dyed. Once she had just the bone remaining, she scooted closer to the male, leaning close so that she could see his work, "Look now," She turned it over in her hands, gathering another one, "Leg bones," she pointed to his own leg, "Leg bone. Purpose of jumping,"

"Make ankle decoration."

Kiva wiped her hands off on her pants, gather the string and placing it in her lap. Hunching over, she steadied the knife in her hand and cast a look at Wikus, "We etch purpose of piece now." Carefully, she dug into the bone, scrapping slowly and meticulously. Ridges began forming where she carved and she was cautious. She attempted to carve a circle, holding her breath and switching her hold to the very tip. The Myrian frowned, setting down the knife, "Too small to carve with this. I will have to draw." Kiva set down her utensil, opting for a needle instead. She looked over at the ex-Drykas man, eyes washing over the number of tattoos on his skin, "Will you give me ink?"

She showed him what she meant, pretending to roll the flat side of the needle above his arm, and then using the fine point to draw on the bone, "Circles are important. It's what gives it purpose. Then our blood will give it power."

The Myrian tried to hand the needle to the man, so he could put ink on it if he wished. When she caught his eye and noticed his nervousness, she smirked, "Do not be nervous. Malediction is not scary. No flash, no surprises till the end. Would you like to try?"

The bones were sitting in her hands, "We share."

★★★

[Wikus]

Wikus nodded and studied carefully the female’s work. Removing the cartilages was obvious, as otherwise they would eventually rot and shatter the piece, besides attracting pests and putrefaction. Nodding, he’d watch the female’s work and the brief explanation. “Wait. If you take leg bones but put them in hand…” Wikus would tap his forearm. “… maybe more power when pushing?” He was trying to understand the limitations. If they made this decoration, then perhaps its place could be changed depending on the situation. If this was true, its uses would be many more. Nonetheless, he’d return to watch the female’s work, pretty aware that the knife wouldn’t do much against the tiny bone. At her request, he’d extend the palm of his hand and form an improvised cup with it, letting the ink escape his flesh and forming a small ‘pond’ of the black substance, resting his elbow on his knee so that the female could access the ink whenever she needed. Truthfully, this ability was very useful at times. Wooing women, drawing… Truly, it had a lot of uses.


“Woman. How are circles? What look like?” If the circles gave the item meaning, then he needed to know what kind of circles they were. Nonetheless, he didn’t halt her job. “Continue.” Despite her comment, he didn’t quite bother to relax. He was still doing something he never believed he would. In a way, he was thankful that this woman was teaching him this, even if he didn’t know if it had a real use. These last few winters his learning had been stuck up, and it had taken a toll on him. In his youth, he used to learn something new every day, a new skill or a new activity. Ever since his exile, he had missed those simple joys of being busy or arriving tired to lay in bed. “Thank you. I like this. Learning. Makes feel young again.” The female may not have realized this, but he wasn’t a boy anymore. Drykas didn’t reach his age, especially those that weren’t born with the lineage of an Ankal. Warriors and foot soldiers like him were the ones that died in a field, eaten by a pack of animals or lost in the middle of the night. The quantities of tattoos he had gained was abnormally high, so many that his skin was starting to feel small whenever he looked for a location untouched by ink.


He should’ve died long ago, yet instead here he was, sitting in the wooden floor of a room, watching the rain fall outside and learning magics by a younger woman from a distant land. Glancing outside the window, he could swear there was someone on the other side, a naked woman dancing in the rain without a care in the world. Wikus blinked, and despite his curiosity he returned his gaze down onto the woman’s work. He wanted to learn more, even if she had taught him a lot for the day. “Yes.” He’d say, eager to try his own hand at the drawing of these circles. “Use finger with ink and draw shape of circles in wood. I clean after. I need see circles good to draw.” Offering the ink pool that lied in his hand, he’d wait to see how she’d react.

WIKUS

Thanks to Kiva for this amazing template.

[Kiva]

*
*
*

"Circles are like this," Kiva rose, gathering her old notebook and resuming her seat. She flipped through a few pages, mostly notes and tidbits of knowledge scrawled on textured pages in her native tongue. When she found the page she was looking for, she held it out. Circles littered the page, a set for practice, and they were drawn in crude ink. They varied in size and confidence, and she studied them.

Despite having her journal, she conceeded to drawing on the floor. The room was not hers, but he had offered to clean it. Able to control the ink, Kiva guessed that meant reabsorbtion and had seen on multiple ocassions him shift it across his skin. She found a spot untouched and dipped a finger in the pool he provided, the blackened substance coating her finger.

Kiva pressed it against the floor, creating the motion as fluidly as she could. She stopped once to reapply ink to her digit, and showed him the result. "In Malediction," she began, "Circle holds power and purpose. If the circle breaks or fades, item is useless. I want..." she paused, trying to think of how to word her next sentence. What did she want, "I want to show you."

She demonstrated what she meant by attempting a little outline of a hen on the ground, then placing it in a circle. She drew another, beside it, but much higher, drawing another hen like shape inside it. The details were crude, but the animal was distinguishable enough. It's body was lifted from the ground, jumping, with wings outstretched as if flapping. The next circle she drew had the hen's silhouette, back on the ground.

"See? We put something like this on bones. Hen jumping, but bones too small for this. Words work too. Like this." Kiva crawled on her knees to a more open part of the floor, but not before dipping her hand in his ink once more. She had to pause, thinking of how to spell the word in common. Closing her eyes briefly, she let the unfamiliar letters toss around in her head, "We write 'soar' in circles, we see if it works. Then when circles complete, we add our blood." She did as she could, her letters cryptic and messy. Her circles were much better, and she looked to her companion.

Kiva had never thought herself much of a mentor, but with all the information she was sharing, the woman was very aware of her own speech. She had talked much today, more so than she had in days. Maybe weeks.

"I talk too much. You teach me something now." she smiled, suddenly self conscious at being the instructor.

★★★

[Wikus]

Wikus watched her and her work, frowning at the knowledge that was slowly budging within his head. Eventually, he believed he had understood the lesson. There had to be some sort of reference to what the desired effect should’ve been. If he was using the bones of a dog, he could’ve pictured a dog with its mouth open and foaming to perhaps gain the bite strength of it, or used a word like bite to complete the circle. So, in a way, there was some sort of choice as to what the effect of the magic item would be. At least, about the desired effect. Kiva had commented that this magic was unpredictable, thus setting a seed of suspicion in Wikus’ mind. Resting his head on the palm of his free hand, he’d ponder for a while to try to organize all the information he had gathered and make a sense out of it. The silence reigned over them, salve perhaps for his breath escaping his nose and the sounds that filtered from the window, the rain muffling pretty much every sound. He looked at the circles, the ones on the ground just like the ones of her notebook which he’d not doubt to pull from the female’s hands.


“So if the circle gone then magic also gone?” He had to ask the question again despite the female having explained it thoroughly. “If we use ink on bone, then it… um…” Unable to find the word, he’d take one of the bones and dip it in the ink pond that laid on his left hand. Afterwards, with the same hand he was holding it, he’d run the thumb across the inked part of the bone in which the ink was easily smeared. He kept doing it, until he managed to show a rather clean part of the bone that was unaffected by the ink. “See? It gone easy.” Carving the bones would be almost impossible, for the precision needed was surely not to be found in none of the two individuals that shared the room. Without a word, he’d absorb the ink pond directly into his hand to eventually not leave a single sign of ink on the flesh, and afterwards he’d wrap his hand around the partially inked bone whose ink would be absorbed without any problem. If he wasn’t mistaken, his ink level were still below the normal quantity he held, as he didn’t feel any sudden pain in his flesh due to the ink’s absorption. That was good – the pain of absorbing ink was very feared by him.

Returning the bone back to the pile, clean as he got it, he’d lean forward and place the tip of his finger on the ink she had drawn on the floor. The circle soon began moving, as if pulled towards his skin in which the ink was absorbed onto his flesh and began traveling up his flesh – some sort of black veins connecting the fingertip to the nearest tattoo that was on the backside of his palm. It was then that he pain hit him, a groan of pain coming forward as the man almost collapsed right there. He felt it then, the pain of absorption. His tears didn’t take but a second to start falling, eyes closed shut with strength as he gasped for air. The sensation was similar to getting a new tattoo right there, but this time there was no hammering and no pain in regular periods, but instead it was a constant and intense pain. A loud groan escaped him once again, yet he kept the finger in its place as the ink kept traveling. Soon enough, it was gone as fast as the female had painted it. Panting lightly, he’d now place a finger on the silhouette of the chicken with its flapping wings and undergo the process once again. A chime later, he took the notebook and absorbed the small and better done circles that laid there.


It was then when there was a change in his body, or rather in his tattoos. They started swaying on their own, lightly at first yet eventually becoming alive. The tiger on his belly blinked, his eyes looking around as his tongue relished his snout, the eagle on his chest starting to flap its wings and eventually flying off across Wikus’ body, flying across his flesh and becoming smaller as if it was flying into the distance. The flowers of his arms began spinning, letting one of their petals fly off into the flesh and landing somewhere new, the old flowers withering right there while the new petal was regrown into a new flower in a new location. The tiger head looked with appetite, and its mouth began catching the petals and tearing the flowers, devouring them before the flowers grew out of his ears. It was a story that the tattoos themselves were forming across his skin, changing and doing as they pleased for now they were alive.


Wikus gazed down on his flesh to see what was happening while he recovered from the pain, the tiger head becoming smaller as it moved to his forearm and winked at him, before the snowflakes of his arm began piling up and forming snow on the tiger’s fur which forced him to retreat back to the chest. “Look now.” With his pure will, the tattoos all died right there and instead moved to create the absorbed shapes, exact copies of the drawings the female had made in both her notebook and the ground itself. They were everywhere on his flesh, at least at first. He drove all the ink into the right side of his body, which was completely black now that the ink was compressed there, the left side of his body being completely clean from tattoos and for the first time displaying his true pale skin, the scarring from the tattoos still there. He took one of the feathers and used its tip to draw on his flesh. He drew a circle, ordering the ink to follow wherever they felt contact. He was using his own body as a paper, and the ink of his tattoos came wherever the feather tip touched. He drew a circle and imitated the female’s drawing, forcing one of the absorbed shapes to manifest beside it so he could have a reference. Copying was never so easy.


“I take drawings, but I can only change size while on skin. If I return ink, size will be same. Draw a small circle with small hen, smaller as possible then I take and put on bone. Ink still easy to…” He took the bone to make her aware of the word he had to describe earlier with an demonstration. “… that. Ink not good for bone. Maybe we use this for practice, but if ink gone easy, then item not permanent. We find bigger bones next time and use knife. Can we use circles and magic on fur and skin?” And with that, he finished his small improvised circle and showed it to the female. Much worse quality, both in circle and of hen silhouette. He had no talent whatsoever. Once over, he’d simply release the ink and the tattoos to do as they pleased in his body, the tiger head returning to its place and starting rotate in joy in a layer of flowers. If the female was attentive, she could spot the tiger winking to her. Wikus, on the other hand, had his features as plain and serious as usual. “I have no magic to show you. I know nothing.” Feeling a bit guilty to present himself as useless as he was, especially when the female had taught him so much this day, he’d now try to return the favor.


Setting his torso straight to remove most folds of his flesh, he’d concentrate of the frame of the female just as he saw her. He’d run his eyes up and down her frame, trying to catch the details of her flesh, the colors, the posture and her attitude. And just as his eyes saw it, a similar copy would appear on his torso, just like a mirror of the female. There was a slight delay between her movements in the room and her image on his flesh, and the details seemed to fade away or become blurry if his eyes focused on one spot of her for too much. He need to keep washing her over with his attentive and concentrated gaze to retain the details in his flesh, yet the image was quite vivid to be merely done with ink. The colors were matched perfectly, and by Wikus’ will he sent some of the flowers from his original tattoos to coat the displayed image of her, forcing them to enter her braid yet not with much success as his artistic skills were not enough.


Soon after the poor attempt, her image on his torso began waning, becoming blurrier and blurrier as the attempt to include flowers in her braid had apparently messed something up, and it all exploded in ink that soon regained its original shape, the flowers, snowflakes, tiger and eagle returning along with snakes, petals and faces that came and went, playing on the flesh as if they were on a distant world. “Draw small circle with hen, I absorb and put into bone. Test magic.”

WIKUS

Thanks to Kiva for this amazing template.

[Kiva]

*
*
*

"You're right. Carving would be best. The ink vanishes."

Wikus, after showing her what he meant, began reabsorbing the ink, and Kiva sat upright, eyes widening as he struggled with the pain. An invisible cruelty carved at his skin, hurting him, until all the mess they had made was gone. She didn't know the act would be so painful for the man, and for a moment, Kiva wasn't sure what to say. There was no physical ailment she could heal, and so she watched, hand hovering, not sure if she should intervene or not. And then... he was done, tears in his eyes and breathing heavy, but he wasn't surprised or overly concerned. This pain... it was a part of him, of his own trick.

The season before last, Kiva had been untouched by the powers other citizens of Riverfall struggled with. There had been an announcement. Something in the city was off, and while she was sure most had lost thier tricks, Wikus appeared to be different. 'Interesting.' While Kiva struggled to find the words, the ex-Drykas appeared to be finding some of his own.

His explanation of his own power was simple enough. She nodded, wondering how she would draw such fine details with her finger. She would need to do it on paper, but the idea of scribbling on a resource she didn't know she could get again made her unsure. One of Black Rock's main exports was paper, and it's material was perfected. The Myrian would have to pay a hefty price anywhere else for something so simple. There was more paper somewhere in the Sanctuary, but walking around too much... it was likely she would have to borrow it from someone. The only room she was sure had some was Kavala's office, and Kiva did not intend to go in there. And if she ran into the Konti, no doubt the woman would ask questions. The Myrian had suspicions that the pale woman knew about their practice, especially in her own domain, and if she didn't, Kiva had no intentions of telling her... yet.

A hand lifted to touch her chin thoughtfully, and when she lowered it to look at Wikus, her mouth dropped in silent awestruck wonder. Upon Wikus' skin, his tattoos separated, the colors blended and melded together, this trick seeming to be much less antagonizing than the first.

Mirrors were not a common commodity for the woman. She used them little, not usually overly concerned with her outward appearance. Kiva normally found out how she looked to others by their reactions. And on a few occasions, the reflections on water. Seeing herself was always strange, but as she watched her image form on the man's skin, felt his eyes taking in her features and body... it was embarrassing. Drawn to the illusion, she scooted closer, trying to remain still, so she wouldn't disturb him. The colors were crystal clear, and on his skin was her face looking back at her, dark hair and dark eyes somehow bright. Her lips were full and her complexion was clear. She was not the ruddy teen she somehow remembered herself to be. This was a woman.

Kiva felt exposed. Flowers bloomed in her hair, and the tattoos shimmered like ripples in a pond. Wikus focused, trying to keep the image, but soon it exploded and Kiva breathed once more. When she looked up to meet his eyes, she smiled.

She liked that.

The Myrian gave a soft hum, embarrassed, but impressed. Flattered. She retrieved one of the feathers and wiped off the tip with the rag. Lifting higher on her knees, she reached for his hand and softly, she said, "Ink, please."

A request, not an order. Her tone was softer than one she had previously used with the man, some would say friendly. Gentle. There was an inner conflict with the Myrian, struggling with the need to put him beneath her, with separating herself from a non-Myrian. But Wikus... he was being really nice today and she had had walls up for years - Since leaving Taloba. It would be nice to relax for a day. Just one.

The bearded man wanted her to draw, so she would draw. "Let me see your face." The only skin Kiva could see untouched by tattoos already, she would draw there. She lifted the soft side of the feather towards his left cheek, "This I will draw hen and circles, this-" she pointed to the other, "I will surprise you."

She wanted to draw on him, and she waited to see his response. If he allowed her to, she would have to get close, focus intently on the fine details on her work. Hold his face to steady it. The thought of being so close to him... despite their previous run ins... It was strange. She had never seen the details of a deyhan's face so close before. He was pale and his face was hairy, but was he like another Myrian? Did he have outsider in his eyes? "Then you can move them on bone?"

★★★

[Wikus]

Wikus wiped his forehead despite any lack of sweat, afterwards wiping the tears that had fallen down his cheeks. His facial expression, plain and serious as usual, was focused on the female. He had hoped his display of his power had satiated the female’s eagerness to be taught something, and apparently he had succeeded. However, the effects of his ability on the female were somewhat more intense than he thought. Something had changed in her, in her motions and in her words, and that was alarming for him. Not used to sudden change, the swift transition of attitudes in the female brought some wariness in him. He had seen those attitudes before, usually in those people that had finally made a choice – choice that revolved around stabbing him. Squinting his eyes as he looked back at the female, he realized the only way she’d be able to stab him is with one of his hen’s feathers, which relaxed him a bit. Lacking any experience to enlighten him as to what was happening, the Myrian’s smile still felt awkward to see despite having seen said expression more and more in the female’s lips. She was different when she smiled, reason why he never smiled back.


At her request, he was somewhat dubious at first due to the softness of her voice, yet nonetheless he complied. Forming a cup with his palm just like before, he’d let some of the ink escape his pores and form a new pond of the black substance for the female to use. The next part of her request was somewhat stranger for him – his face? Watching the soft end of the feather with a cautious frown, his mind began trying to find answers for the surprise the female had in store. In truth, he didn’t know if he could absorb the ink’s memory from his flesh, which he had never tried before. It sounded logical, that was true, yet it’d be safer for the female to just use her notebook and Wikus to absorb whatever she had drawn afterwards just like before. He could wipe the notebook clean of any ink and leave it like new, the paper’s only defect being the trail of the feather tip that was left there as a scar. It’d be a good experiment, and there was nothing to lose. “Not know. Maybe. I try. Don’t ink beard, woman.” Sighing, he’d lean forward and allow the female to draw on his face, as the palm that contained the ink pond was left between them for her to server herself whenever she needed.


Frown and stiff as always, his eyes would carefully follow the females’, following her motions salve if the feather tip was too close to his eyes, situation in which they would close. His features up close were just as imagined from a distance – perfectly smooth, healthy beyond imaginable, handsome beyond words. There weren’t any scars or imperfections in his features, the old cuts and wounds having been healed and their scars having adapted into the beauty of his entire being. His skin was warm to the touch and extremely soft, yet the flesh was somewhat thin due to his low daily ingest, his features being somewhat hard to the touch due to the bones that stood beneath. His breathing was there, deep yet fast, while being completely silent without a single whistle-like sound present as he inhaled and exhaled through his nose. The beard populated the majority of his face, and despite its perfect shape it was clear it was in need of a light trim in the mustache area. Some wrinkles and crow’s feet were present in the upper side of his face, enhanced perhaps by the constant frowning and that reveled his somewhat advanced age. Blue eyes, clear and cold, stared down at the female, shaking a bit as if scared or nervous. Nonetheless, he was there and he wouldn’t move. “Do it, woman.”

WIKUS

Thanks to Kiva for this amazing template.

[Kiva]

*
*
*

A silent nod, and then Kiva was dipping the hen feather into the palm of his hand. Ink coated the quill, and she used his finger to wipe away any excess, lightly scraping the angle of the nub against his skin. When she sat back, she stared at the man, thinking. 'What will it be?' she mused silently to herself, tossing her braid over her shoulder and scooting to a comfortable position. When she brought the quill to face, she raised it to one cheek and kept her touch light as she began to draw.

Memories of painting the skin of childhood friends played in her mind, "I have painted clan mates in Taloba before hunts. Before dances. I was painted many times as a child." She remembered the coolness of the markings on her skin, set to dry in the hot sun. Her eyes began looking past Wikus, to the memories of the past.

Kiva's hand continued to move, re-imagining the circles and etchings she had done on the floor, occasionally stopping to redip the quill or shift her body. The hard floor dug into her knees and when she squirmed the ink rebelled. Losing control, her hand slipped, sending ink dripping downward.

"Don't move," Acting fast, the Myrian lifted her thumb and licked it, using one hand to hold Wikus' shoulder the other to toss the quill to the floor and wipe at the falling ink. The spit on her skin and thumb smudged the ink, but she wiped it on her pants and repeated the motion.

Lips pressed together in a thin line of concentration, Kiva scrubbed at the mark, not wanting to ask Wikus to assist her further. She was a big girl. She could handle it. Finally the mark faded to a dull grey, but it would be fine. The Myrian regathered the quill and continued to work on the fine detail of the work, completing the circles. When it came to them, she slowed, meticulous and detail oriented. She would not be distracted.

"I am finished," she muttered, pulling back and releasing the breath she hadn't realized she had been holding. Outside the rain picked up, the pattering turning into a heavy downpour. The thick clouds dimmed the room's natural lighting and Kiva looked over her shoulder for a lantern to light.

Thunder clapped, followed by lightening, "Now the other."

Kiva had promised a gift of some sort, and she paused to think. Nodding to herself, she flexed her fingers and rolled her shoulders as she planned the line work. More than once the quill moved, hovering over his skin as she imagined her piece. The soft expression of before had faded, leaving only a smirk of intrigue.

The quill dipped and she drew carefully, with fluid strokes. Firmly, she took Wikus' chin in her hand, blowing on the ink as it dried, least it dribbled towards his beard. She struggled to keep the piece small, not lead it to obscure against the bride of his nose, and created arches and simplified lines.

A neck, some legs, a body and tail that curved. And then a long line, wobbly, but straight enough, sticking from the drawing's chest. On Wikus' left cheek was a very simplified figure of a horse, a spear jutting from its heart.

Above it, she drew a circle - a sun. And beneath it, she wrote in very cryptic handwriting a word she only knew how to spell in Myrian. She blew on his cheek once more, admiring her work. Then, with much relief, she leaned backwards and went to retrieve a lantern.

★★★

[Wikus]

Wikus patiently waited for the female. His face was still and stiff, as usual, just as much as his body. He was surprisingly tense despite the otherwise relaxed stance he seemed to possess. It was very awkward for him to be close to someone else, and Kiva was currently the closest he had felt in a while. Perhaps it was for this reason, for her voluntary approach, that he was somewhat more aware of her. Every once in a while he’d shoot a quick glance towards her, his face not daring to move to difficult her work, he had no other option but to let her use him as a canvas. “Me too. Before hunt or before morning, we coat skin in ash, then clothes, then armor. Covers smell and not allows for smelling by prey.” He’d pause for a while, letting the female work. “Sometimes many pavilion, big tents with more tents inside, come together for party. They paint me then. Never went to party.” Another pause, in which the female corrected one of her mistakes with a finger. It was… strange. Not bad, but also not good being the sentiment Wikus associated to her current attitude.


He felt really awkward, indeed, and much more tense than usual. His experience with other people was minimal, and so he had nothing to compare her actions to. Cold and distant most of his life, when these smalls acts of proximity came along he could only feel like a hare slowly being trapped by a winged predator. Such reaction wasn’t normal, that much he knew, for he had been baffled at how friendly and casual touching someone else was for everyone around him. They cupped their cheeks, nudged themselves with elbows, and slapped their backs as they laughed… Still, there was no way for him to fix his distrust issues, as he had accepted long ago. The woman certainly didn’t seem to care about proximity, which was something worth of admiration by him. Of course, he wouldn’t share this as secrets were worth more when they exclusive. At last, her words brought not only the end of her task, but thunder along. Wikus was startled, almost jumping in the spot as his eyes shot up towards the female. It was coincidence, yet at least he was certain he was not leaving this room. Now while the rain still poured with such force outside the walls.


“I absorb.” He said, and he did, letting the ink slowly enter through his pores and its memory joining in with his tattoos that were, just like before, enjoying their freedom. Wikus brought up his hand to see her work, the circle small and reduced yet still presenting all the details. It was a good job by the female, so he nodded to let her know of his approval. Turning the other cheek, like cowards usually did, he once again glanced over at her to try and figure out what her intentions were. Her face, unlike when they first met, had shown many expressions he didn’t quite know how to interpret, and the case was similar with her current smirk. She must’ve had a very powerful imagination to make herself smirk with only her thoughts, which was also something Wikus was envious about. Nonetheless, he had no comment for her as he simply exhaled deeply before letting her get her way. ‘Surprise you’ she had said, only fueling his curiosity. She had surprised him already by not burning the building down or shattering the stone walls with her bare fists.


Zoning out while she worked, only when she finished he finally awakened from his slumber. She seemed done, even if she didn’t announce it. Thus, he absorbed the ink to finally see what she had done. The more ink he absorbed, the less pain he felt when absorbing it, yet the more issues his skin had. It was strange. This ability was almost as an addiction by itself, teasing and demanding more ink yet causing more trouble the more he absorbed. Last season he had overdosed on said ink, having chased a young boy that could pass through walls as if they were not there. While Kiva was looking for the lantern, Wikus moved by the open window, in which the cold breeze and faint humidity bathe on his skin. Thankfully, there was still some light gray light that allowed him to see what was on his flesh.


And so, he rose his forearm and, with the help of the light, he saw it all. Forcing his tattoos out of the way to leave room for the newcomer, he saw a horse running under a bright sun, running in place as if to symbol the eternal plains. He was about to dismiss the tattoo in anger when he saw what came next – a spear ran through the horse, and blood began pouring in insane amounts over his skin, the horse going stiff and dragging itself on the ground as the red stains covered his entire forearm, ending the picture. Wikus blinked and turned around, going to face the female with a strange expression. Leaning back and resting his rear against the edge of the window, he shook his head at first as he glanced back down at the tattoo. Only after seeing it again he finally rose his face and, perhaps for the first time, displayed a wide grin. The expression was so rare in him that perhaps it looked awkward. It was certainly genuine, and despite no sound of laughter coming from him, he certainly seemed to have enjoyed the surprise.


“What does word mean?” He asked, letting the rare expression fade away as he rested by the open window.

WIKUS

Thanks to Kiva for this amazing template.