Closed Losing Fate in the Wind (Nya)

Abashai returns to find Nya.

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While Sylira is by far the most civilized region of Mizahar, countless surprises and encounters await the traveler in its rural wilderness. Called the Wildlands, Syliran's wilderness is comprised of gradual rolling hills in the south that become deep wilderness in the north. Ruins abound throughout the wildlands, and only the well-marked roads are safe.

Losing Fate in the Wind (Nya)

Postby Abashai on July 11th, 2016, 2:40 pm

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The humorless laugh that the Kelvic chuffed confirmed it. What he had hoped was not reality, what he feared was worse than Abashai imagined. Nya was broken, wounded and left to heal on her own.

She called him a fool. She was not the first. His own voice had uttered the accusation many times. Every word she spoke was true. They were essentially cursed by the actions of those pre-Valterrian lives, by the power they created together, held against them by unforgiving divinity. It was, in every visible way, an inescapable fate. Still, Abashai refused to accept it. Maybe it was the desert in him, how the dry wilderness seemed destined to remain scorched and unwelcoming, until the day of rain and the wadi's flood and all that cling to life in the desert are filled to satisfaction.

Nya finally showed some sentiment, albeit an agitated one. It was evident in the sting in her voice, the cat's rumble in her throat. Abashai found a measure of relief in the display. She had not been rendered emotionlly dead, though to shee Nya in such a state rent at him. He never shook the guilt of his part in her misery, and as often as she fought to forget it, he succumbed to it. His eyes followed her to the wash basin, seeing the frustration animated in her movements. When Nya turned and spoke again, Shai could see just how close to the surface the predator cat truly lay.

His face was stony as it turned again to the room before bowing low for a moment, pensive. Then Abashai stood and turned towards Nya. "I cannot make right what I have done, of my own will or against it. I can't deny that the course of our lives has been manipulated, that we have been slated to pay penance for seemingly eternity." He took a few steps towards Nya, his gaze still seeking her moss-green eyes. "But I am still alive in this life, we are. I am not content to hide away, to deny myself any kind of life just to avoid being their pawn. That is not living. Sure, we may do this all over when we meet our fate again. But as foolish as it seems, I can't stop trying to have a life that is mine."

Abashai turned, paced several steps away, idly picking up a long, sharpened wooden stick leaning in a corner. "My belief is that the gods did not bring us together, in the beginning, maybe even with Areesa and Jefrek. We chose to be together, not them. They have simply perpetuated what we willingly chose to fufill their plans." After examining the crude weapon, he leaned it back against the wall. "But if you do not share that belief, if you feel nothing for me, then perhaps I am wrong. I am not here to force you to do anything, consciously or not. If you wish to be left alone here, I will leave you in peace."

Abashai turned again towards Nya, coming within a couple steps of her. His human senses then caught her scent. Not of the perfumed women of the cities, who tried to cover their natural smell with fragrances. Nya smelled of musk and skin and wild plants. He had come to cherish that which others would see as...animal. "But, before you decide, I ask that you be honest with yourself, Nya. You have not only hidden from the world in here, you have hidden from yourself."
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Losing Fate in the Wind (Nya)

Postby Nya Winters on July 12th, 2016, 4:58 am

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Nya watched with a mixture of slowly dawning realization and resignation. He was real. He had to be real. The man she conjured for company and to talk to almost never replied back, and when he did it was with a brief bit of words, a subtle gesture, or even a look. Though she invented him, over and over and over again, she never invented his dialog. This was nothing like she’d expect him to say if he was just a figment of her imagination. He’d curse at the Gods like she had and he’d never ever ever apologize or half-heartedly agree with her but with a spin of his own.

Desert men. She wondered momentarily if they were all like him, strong and determined, not broken by the wind but bent and twisted to accommodate it. And worse… worse still than anything else… the little breezes flittering about the room paused to listen to his words and then agreed with him. She thought them traitors in that moment and would have called them on it had she not been too busy herself processing what the man was saying.

The stoic pensive man in front of her was no stranger. Her husband and her bondmate had always been a deep thinker. And though he could react quickly when necessary, he was often slow to respond because he was careful to examine all aspects of the avenue’s revealing themselves to him as his potential actions.

When he advanced, she was afraid he’d touch her. She didn’t want to be touched, not now and maybe not ever. She didn’t even like the feel of her own clothing against her skin. Fur was so much better. But he halted, turned, and retreated. Nya relaxed then, not even realizing she’d been so tense.

She opened herself up a bit, curious and afraid, and felt his own sadness and hope. This puzzled her. Sad? It wasn’t an emotion she’d ever equate to the man before her. Regretful, yes, and resolute. But not sad. He spoke more words, some registered deep within her, and some glanced off as if the afterthought of a rainstorm. She watched him pace away, pick up one of her crude weapons, and continue speaking. She could breathe with him further away. Close up, there was only his scent, and that bothered her more than she thought it would. Not because he bothered her but because she craved it.

Nya hated herself for the thought.

She listened to him further explain. He gave her things to think about, but here and now was not a place for thought. Their encounter was a lot for her, a lot more than she thought it would have been and a lot all at once. They had never shared light words, casual actions, or brief encounters. Everything with them was heavier, more significant, even heavier on her soul than she could have ever imagined.

“You couldn’t anyhow.” She said suddenly, tilting her head and staring at him. It was all she could think of to say. “Force me to do anything I don’t want to do, that is…” She added as a way of explanation. Her words sounded stubborn and almost indignant, as if It was easier for her to focus on that than the other things. “The cat would not let you… not let anyone ever again….” Nya said softly, almost threateningly. Her words were more a growl than anything.

“I’m having a hard time understanding you are real. I’ve missed you. Sometimes I miss you so much my mind thinks you are here and I talk to you. You nod or smile or shake your head, but never do you give me this many words. It’s distracting, all the words, because I’m still trying to decide if you are real. But if you are not real… then what? Am I so far gone that even my imagination gives me you conjured whole and real here before me, travel worn and yet still willing to fight?” She said softly, vulnerability finally in her voice mingled with her confusion. She rubbed her temples and looked uncertain yet again.

“I love you. I’ve always loved you. I’ve loved you since I met you with your pack horse and swimming in the waterfall. If you are real I don’t want you to leave. But if you are not real, I need you too – leave that is - because it’s not good… it’s the cracks inside my head leaking pain and hurting me further.”
She said, speaking openly with the tension and confusion she felt coloring her tone.

“Regardless, there is no peace. Not without you.” As she said that he approached… closer than he had been yet today. She trembled as he did so, flashing teeth but not really in a threatening manner, more as if her expressions were not keeping up with her emotions and lagging behind significantly.

She didn’t respond to his lightly voiced accusation of her actions indicating she was hiding from herself. What could she respond with? She dropped her eyes to the floor at his feet and then studied him from the floor up, finding it easier to look at him than it was to look inside. “It’s too much… too many words all at once…” She said softly, her eyes reaching his thighs, moving up to his waist, and then crossing north to his chest. “I’m not… good at the talking anymore. Not to myself and not certainly to you. I cannot…. cannot even say your name… or even think it. I don’t know why.” She tried to form the shapes of the letters of his name in her mind and it hurt to do so. “Can we just…. “ She gestured lightly, almost desperately, around at the tower, the space, the air between them “… exist for a while? Less words until it is a bit easier?” She said finally, not knowing why that was so important suddenly. And not even knowing, really, what that meant.

Nya couldn’t breathe with him that close. And all the cat wanted to do is purr, the traitorous huntress. She wouldn’t cry, not now, and not after everything that had happened. But she wanted too, suddenly and overwhelmingly so. The kelvic cat tried to move back, but she was still leaning back against the counter. There was no room to pace even. She desperately and suddenly wanted to pace. It was better than tears. Tears served no purpose.
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Losing Fate in the Wind (Nya)

Postby Abashai on July 12th, 2016, 2:29 pm

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In his exuberance at finding Nya, at the chance to say the things he had wanted to say for so long, Abashai had not considered that the Kelvic was not ready to hear them. At least not in the wave of weighty thoughts he had poured out. He had not rehearsed the uncertain reunion with Nya, never practicing some rhetoric or prescribed speech to recite should he ever find her. He simply knew he had to find her, and his tongue obeyed his heart after that.

In the quiet moments between words, the light breezes that accompanied the Stormwarden lingered lightly, curious zephyrs watching, and no doubt counseling their mistress. The Benshiran saw Nya's internal struggle written out upon her face, in the shifting of hands and darting of stunning green eyes. He felt her dilemma in the reawakening unity, admonished himself not to overwhelm her. It would have to be her decision, just as she made clear. Patience, he reminded, give her time.

He heard the cat and the woman in her words, veiled warnings and honest professions. Words, unpracticed, from lips that were unaccustomed to expressing lengthy thoughts out loud. They were words that breathed hope into his languishing sails. Perhaps it was selfish to find encouragement in her confessions, for the man sensed Nya wished it to be different, wishing that she didn't love him, didn't need him in any way. Abashai did hear what Nya needed in the meantime. Confirmation and space. He could afford her both.

Cornered. Abahsai felt the sensation coming from Nya. He slid one foot back, turned slightly so that he was not facing her head on. It was a small movement, but lent his posture the attitude of being open, as opposed to confrontational, in essence, giving Nya a means to escape. "I promise, I am very real, Nya. I know you can smell it, I know you hear it in my voice. If you wish, you may touch me, and know for certain." Shai made no move towards the she-cat, did not extend a hand for her to clasp, but kept them at his side. If Nya wished to test his authenticity, she was free to touch him unhindered and on her own terms. Abashai compelled himself to respect her space, though he wished to wrap his arms around her, to feel her in his embrace again, to stroke the tangled, brindled mane, as if they could give one another strength simply from holding one another.

"We can exist together." Abashai affirmed. He understood, even if she didn't. Nya was an extraordinary woman, for she was more than a mere woman. She was the cat, and the beast too had to be considered. He loved them both, almost as if they were separate beings, for they were two sides of the same person, though they infused one another. Abashai had learned to considered both in most everything. How he had related to Nya was as much on the terms of the animal as it was the woman. Eye contact, physical touch, gesture, formless sounds, even scent were means of communicating without words, and as deep and meaningful or more than mere words could be.

They had spoken their peace, understood for the moment the ground upon which each of them stood. They could be together in the scarcity of words. Lengthy conversations could wait for pensive starry nights.

"I want to stay." The man confessed.
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Losing Fate in the Wind (Nya)

Postby Nya Winters on July 12th, 2016, 9:14 pm

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When the man moved, shifting his lethal form to the right and back slightly, opening up the space the cat within Nya relaxed a bit. He knew her, the mannerisms and the tendencies, and that reassured her a bit. With the space between them more open, Nya’s mind was more open to listen because she wasn’t dwelling on feeling trapped.

The visage claimed himself real. He sounded real, smelled real, and indeed everything about him seemed to indicate he was actually there and not just something she’d conjured up in her mind to reassure herself that life could be normal or at least at one time was.

Then he invited her to close the space between them, to investigate for herself, and to touch.

Nya dragged in a deep breath. It was one of those moments – the turning points – where she could drive him away or approach and see for herself if her senses were deceiving her. He continued speaking, inviting her to exist with him and the words made sense in a way that she could have not explained. She moved, a step closer, the woman in her wanting to know the truth. The cat in her growled and her two sides squared off with each other. Nya long thought the cat was stronger, but sometimes the woman won out. They hadn’t always been at such odds… in a time long before him and long before Ravok, they had been one creature equally and beautifully balanced. It was that creature that the man before her had bonded with and eventually married. It was that creature the man had loved.

Nya half hoped he wasn’t real even as her feet carried her closer, her mind making no conscious decision to take him up on his offer. If he wasn’t real he couldn’t hurt her. He couldn’t reject her. He couldn’t remember what he’d seen in her prison cell adjacent to his and she couldn’t remember what had happened to her while he watched.

She was close now, far closer than he had been moments before when the panic had started to set in. This action caused no such response though. He was holding still. He wasn’t crowding her or staring at her or trying to control her one way or another. The only thing he said as she drew close enough that their breath’s mingled was that he wanted to stay.

It tore at her heart. She slipped behind him, knowing she couldn’t see his face, not yet, not during this… and rose up on her toes. He was tall, almost a full hand taller but on her toes they were almost eye level. She inhaled deeply, crowding his back, and buried her nose in his hair. The softness of it caressed her face and she closed her angry haunted eyes and just inhaled. Her hands reached forward and he would feel them rest on his shoulders. She traced the length of his back with them as he felt her nose bump his skull again. She was a heat at his back, her safe spot, where she’d first learned he’d allow her to touch him. Nya had spent her first days and weeks as his bondmate curled up in the small of his back. To her it was a refuge and a place where she could judge accurately if he was real or something she had imagined in her wounded state. He should have vanished at the first inhale. And when she had reached for his shoulders her hands should have passed right through his form. They didn’t. The man was solid beneath her grip, warm, living and real.

Tears spilled from her eyes even though they were closed. She didn’t need to see with her eyes because she could see with all the rest of her senses. He would feel the wetness on the back of his neck where she nuzzled down to the edge of his hairline, lips playing with the strip of skin beneath his dark curls. She traced the area there, above his collar and below his hairline and dragged her jaw along it. She didn’t care if her face was tangled in his har, she was too blinded by tears to see anyhow. Nya marked her scent along his neckline, running her jaw back and forth, over and over, as if she didn’t realize she was doing it.

Her hands came up, wrapping around him from behind, and then she leaned in, holding him gently and loosely with her hands skimming his waist then chest. She turned her head so her cheek rested between his shoulder blades. Her breath slowed, matching his calm measured breathing. The man had always been calm, even in the heat of battle and even at the worst times of their lives. His calm brought her a measure of peace. His scent surrounded her. His breath was her breath. And for a moment she could feel his heartbeat rock solid and steady.

The tilt of the world, the sense of being ready to fall or lose her balance at any moment, vanished in that instant. She opened her eyes, the bright green gaze partially obstructed in the dark waterfall of his long hair. The world felt quieter then and even the ground beneath her feet felt more solid. She took a breath with him and then another until finally she whispered his name quietly.

“Shai.”
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Losing Fate in the Wind (Nya)

Postby Abashai on July 13th, 2016, 12:50 pm

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The moment seemed longer than possible. A cool breeze drifted in through the open window to brush against each of them, a silence falling between them, yet spared from being awkward by the trill of songbirds out on the roof of a fallen shed. Abashai's breathing shallowed, patient yet anticipating. He had made the offer, resolved to allow Nya to come to terms with his arrival as she saw fit. His features were warm and placid, yet an anxious tension held taut his nerves as he waited.

Though the kelvic avoided his gaze, she neared her former lover and bondmate. Closer, slowly she approached. Abashai's heart tapped at his ribcage a bit quicker as Nya's breath kissed his skin with its warmth. He did not move, his hands remained lowered and still as the woman moved behind him, so close she brushed against his garments. Shai wished to turn his head, to watch her, but he vowed to remain still. He did not fear her, though she was strong and could harm him suddenly if she wished. Then, he felt her warm breath again as is sifted through his mane to his neck and scalp.

His eyes slid shut, remembering the comforting sensation of Nya curled up behind him. In so many places they had laid down to sleep that way. The memory, alive at the very real sensation of her behind him again nearly made the man hum with satisfaction. But he resisted, instead tilting his head slightly to the side and forward, to afford Nya freer access to his neck, coveting her touch. The light weight of her hands settled on his broad shoulders and his heart leaped in his chest. Nerves scintillated at the touch of her lips against his skin, and Abashai drew in a deep satisfying breath.

Lean arms wrapped around him, his arms lifting slightly to allow them to lace around his torso. A small rumble droned in his throat, the man's purr coaxed out by the fulfillment of a lost sensation. Abashai had not truly understood how much he missed Nya's closeness, her powerful presence and soothing touch, until that moment. There was not only comfort in that embrace, but somehow it gave the Benshiran strength, encouragement and profoud pleasure.

The soft drip of tears kissed his skin as the single sound he had craved, had braved the desert and the wilderness to hear, brushed against his hears.

"Shai."

He could no longer remain still. His hands slowly rose, gliding along her arms until they laid gently on top of hers as they settled lightly against his form. Abashai could feel her pulse, in her hands, against his back. It was the same rhythm persisting in his chest. His lungs expanded in sync with the pressure of Nya's breasts rising and falling against him. It was as if a stubborn gear, misaligned and fouling the works for so long, had suddenly slipped into its place and the contraption began to run smoothly again. When they first met, it was the kelvic bond that first tied them to one another. Love came afterwards, then the Unity. But in the tower that day, it was not the submission to the Kelvic draw, or even the curious shared living essence that overcame and reunited them. It was simply love that brought them together again.

"Nya," Abashai replied, husky, gentle, but with a steady tone.

No more words were needed, and for a time they stood just like that, apart from time, recapturing in a simple embrace the years stolen from them. Abashai quieted his mind, silencing logic and rationality, the mind of man, becoming solely present in the moment, as he had learned from Nya. No thought of what was to come was allowed to taint the reunion as Nya and Abashai began to heal one another.

Shai was not prone to tears. It was nearly a sin to waste moisture in his desert homeland, but the swelling in his chest and the tightness in his throat had the same effect. For better or worse, he was home, for Abashai had learned that it didn't matter where he laid his head, if Nya laid her's next to him, he was home.

Shai understood, it was only the beginning. It would take time for them to heal, to learn again how to live with the shared awareness of the Unity. Already, nearly as strongly as the rekindled love flared within him, Abashai felt the pull of her Kelvic nature, beckoning for him to fill the need bred into her kind. Another deep breath drew in her scent, worry exhaled like toxins leeched from his being. Taking one of Nya's hands, Abashai lifted it to his lips, pressing kisses to her palm. The emptiness was filled, the dark chased away by the returning fire.
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Losing Fate in the Wind (Nya)

Postby Rufio on February 22nd, 2017, 9:42 am

   
g r a d e s
  

a b a s h a i

:
xp

Tracking +2
Trapping +1
Observation +5
Socialization +4
Storytelling +1
Rhetoric +2
Persuasion +1


lores

Abashai: Feels a void in his heart where Nya once filled
Sylira Location: The Eventide Outpost
Sylira Location: The Kabrin Road
Sylira Location: The Wildlands
Sylira Location: The Bronze Woods
Tracking: Identifying a rabbit trail
Tracking: By prints in the dirt, a tuft of fur, trampled underbrush, scat, markings on trees
Trapping: Setting a ground snare
Tracking: Recognizing Talderian Forest Cat prints
Talderian Forest Cats: Stealthy, intelligent & deadly
Nya’s parents: May have perished in the Djed Storm
Nya: Not trusting that Abashai is real
Socialization: Giving space to another with body & voice
Abashai’s love for Nya: The cat & woman both
Benshira: Not prone to crying for even tears waste water in the desert
Abashai & Nya: Reunited


n y a

:
xp

Observation +3
Socialization +4
Interrogation +1
Investigation +1
Philosophy +1
Rhetoric +2


lores

Nya: Marks the stages of her life like the rings of a tree
Sometimes people do things out of love & not greed
Nya: Older, less enthusiastic, cautious, recluse
Talderian Forest Cat Habits: Patrolling territory
Talderian Forest Cat Habits: Marking territory to warn off other cats
Abashai’s scent
Interrogation: Asking a direct question to cut to the heart of a matter
Nya’s parents: May have perished in the Djed Storm
Philosophy: What is real and what is the mirage of a broken mind?
Abashai: Strong, determined, stoic, deep-thinker, unbroken
Nya: There is no peace without Abashai
Nya: Prefers pacing to tears
Abashai: Is real
Observation: ‘Seeing’ with all the senses
Nya & Abashai: Reunited



  
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