Closed The Crossroads of Mercy and Cruel Regrets (Merevaika)

[Quzon]

18th Day of Spring, 517 A.V.
Several bells away from Endrykas.

Quzon had left Endrykas within the early morning as the sun crested the horizon, venturing into the faint mist of Spring dew that lightly dampened the lush foliage. As the mist dissipated with the rise of the suns embrace. He cast his emerald gaze over his shoulder, he took note of where the sun was moving through the sky, using it as a compass to note which way he needed to travel to find the city if he got lost.

As he returned his gaze to the landscape ahead of him, Quzon knew he was nowhere near civilization by the look of the untamed wilderness around him. He noticed that the sun had risen higher into the sky, the current time now no longer morning as he lifted a hand to pet down the platinum blonde mane of the midnight colored Seme stallion he strode atop, letting the beast know that its rider appreciated its companionship.

“What are we without the challenge of battle, Zokoztli?”

The Myrian spoke in his native language to the stallion as if awaiting to hear an answer from it. As he atop the horses back, he rapt his calves against the stallions sides three times as he leaned forward to use his body language as a sign for Zoko to walk forward. “What, we with not challenge battle...” He repeated, this time to himself in a ragged type of broken common that lacked the finesse of a proper vocabulary.

Quzon sat dressed as a warrior prepared for combat, clad in a cured hide that wrapped around his body, granting him the appearance of a bear, and wore its lifeless head on his own head like a helmet. He was on the hunt, looking to impart death onto any animal and grant it a worthy death. A meaningful death that would be used to preserve his own existence by feasting upon its flesh.

Tchick, tchick! The Myrian made the sounds by clicking at his teeth to spur the horse onward. His knuckles tightened as his horse started to walk up the incline of a hill, doing his best to avoid leaning too far to either side. Upon reaching the hilltop, Quzon found himself staring down into a small vale; It was the first time he'd seen such a dense collective of trees in several days as he stared down into the wooded valley with an almost non-existent river running through its center.

Even from this distance, he knew that the rainwater from yesterdays storm had caused some type of flash flood to run through. His eyes followed the river run up a larger hill near the entrance of the valley. Quzon assumed that every time it stormed, the rainwater drained down the hills and flowed into the valley making the small river flood.

"We will start the hunt there."

He clicked his heels against the stallion's side. The horse made a single neigh at the pressure against its sides, then flicked its ears before taking one step forward to start walking down the hill.

Then almost out of nowhere, an unnatural sound that disturbed the peace of natures silences lingered on the wind. It forced Quzon to lean backwards and tug at the handlebars to get Zokoztli to stop.

Tchick, tchick! Tchick, tchick!

He beckoned out. The horse stopped gladly, not wanting to proceed into danger. Quzon glanced all around, trying to find where the noise came from. He then canted his head to point his ear towards its source so he could hear it better.

"What is that?" He thought to himself, then tapped his calves against the Seme's sides again to ride off in that direction...

[Merevaika]

Merevaika

The two made their way through the Sea of Grass, heading towards the herd of deer from the other direction. She had her cloak with her - the one that hide her scent - and it was pulled around her tightly, the colours flashing as she moved in Syna's light, but old habits stuck hard, and besides, it was an easier approach from behind. The pair moved slowly, Eryunt winding his way as Merevaika directed, keeping her eyes out (badly) for pieces of dry grass or particularly "busy" sections that would make their approach known.

Her eyes searched through the herd as they went, trying to pick out her target. The straggler, that lingered at the back, looked slow, but also skinny and not worth it. The young ones weren't a good aim either- there were few that were truly young enough to make them a target, and those were tiny. Instead, her eyes settled on a mother, not the strongest looking, but definitely not the skinniest. That was her target.

A head flew up, followed by another. They had spotted them. Focusing on her target more, she steadied a hand on Eryunt, telling him to wait, just a second. He took a step forward, the grass trembling as they moved past it. The deer trembled too, ready to run at a moments warning. Another step. The Drykas closed her eyes for a second, breathing deeply. Focusing her mind on one thing, she let the magic rush to her eyes, the starbursts starting to shine their blood red colour. She blinked a few times, as the paths came into sight, then latched onto one, letting the others fade out of sight. It was strong, of course - it had just been made. A dirty brown, nothing different from all the others. Only at the end of this one was her target. That was what made it important.

Then she kicked him forward, her heels pressing against his side as she felt him churn into the run, flying over the grass towards the clump of deer, who began to shift in response. They moved as one mass, flowing over the other as they sprung into life, darting left and right between the other deer. Her eyes followed her own determined. The tracks were left in perfect sight as she guided her way towards the herd, carving through the grassland and shifting to keep Eryunt alongside the glowing trail. It hopped left and right, but she kept straight, head tilting to keep her eyes always on it. How had she ever managed to keep track of a single animal when she couldn't see their paths?

Pushing forward, Eryunt forced his way into the herd, watching as they scattered, dividing into several smaller groups. The Drykas tilted sharply to one side, Eryunt's hooves moving quickly to move up with her movements as she kept the trail in her eye. Her knuckles tightened on her bow, finding herself draw closer and closer to her target. Closer... closer...

The deer jumped again, separating from the rest to hurry down the side of a large vale, littered with trees and a tiny trickle of water at the very base. Her eyes flickered up for a second, towards the hill at the other end, where the water flowed in. The magic dropped, her concentration on the path gone, but she didn’t need it any more. There wasn’t anything else to focus on now – and it wasn't long until she had the deer in her hand either. "Towards the hill, towards the river, we'll have it cornered," she spoke lightly to Eryunt, coaxing him forward some more, plan running through her head. As long as she stayed on this side of the deer, she could drive it towards the river and the hill, both which would slow it down. Then it would be an easy shot.

Pressing herself against him, she clicked her teeth and felt herself move to his left, the horse moving to catch the weight of her body. She bounced up and down on his back, clutching her bow with both hands and only keeping hold of him with her legs. His body rippled, rocking back and forth as they made the chase, Eryunt galloping, the Web streaming through him and the wind streaming past. They were one – not just Merevaika and Eryunt, but the Web, Zulrav’s winds, and the Sea of Grass, and nothing could stop them.

The deer ducked and changed direction, darting further to the left sharply, and disappearing further down the vale. This time, she didn't even need to move, her Strider knowing their aim and turning sharply to follow the little thing. It bounced left and right, flashing through the clumps of trees and open ground with desperation in its eyes. Heading straight towards the trap that the landscape had laid out for it. The poor thing had no idea what it was running into – what was waiting for it in just a few ticks.

Determination in the scarlet and emerald eyes, they marked it out through the trees, flashing left and right to keep track of it. Her hand lingered on an arrow, steadying her hands as much as she could with the adrenaline, so close yet so far from making a catch. Under her, Eryunt was perfect, his hooves matching - beating - the hooves of the deer, brushing along branches and grass without a second to notice them.

Bringing her bow up, she notched the arrow, tensing her bow arm as she pulled the other back tight. The string trembled, straightened, grew tense with the movement as it went back further than it had expected. The grip around the horse with her legs grew tighter, losing focus on him, as she...

[Merevaika]

Merevaika

The jolt caused the arrow to shoot into the sky, Merevaika to bring her body straight back down towards Eryunt before she fell. And he was skidding, skidding, falling - the mud under him splattered up with his desperate kicks and steps. She couldn't steady herself, let alone him, reaching out to grasp his mane tight, tighter than must have been comfortable, pulling herself even closer. The bow slipped out of one hand, arrows were thrown across the landscape with no target in sight.

Then his other legs slipped, and she threw herself off, terrified of what was happening. Pushing sharply as she closed her eyes and felt the mud envelop her, she slid against the steep vale until she was caught by another outcrop of trees, branches scratching her skin. Her eyes sprang open, searching for her horse, and she let out a cry as she saw him, collapsed on the ground, coated in mud, and kicking and screaming painfully. There was a bone in his leg, that had pierced the flesh and protruded painfully, flecking his coat with red and causing so much pain she could almost feel it. The rest of him slumped against the bush that had caught him, his head thrown up in agony.

Ignoring herself, the Drykas moved as if in a dream, finding herself by his side without even thinking. She clutched him, tight, trying to ignore his pain, trying to ignore everything. Her hands were wet with blood and mud and she smeared it everywhere she touched, staring at the injury that wasn't her own but killed her all the same. Tears streamed down her face, and she couldn't feel them, didn't even realise. There was blood on her hands, then her clothes, then her face, and it could have been her own; it hurt her enough.

His cries echoed across the vale, a tortured noise that made Merevaika feel like she had been stabbed several times in the chest, and the knife had been pulled round, twisted deeper and further. She moved her hand to his neck, then his back, trying to reassure him and stop him from squirming in pain, but with no idea how to do it. "It's okay, it's okay," she reassured herself more than him, moving in and out from him, trying to stop the beating of her heart and calm herself enough to help him.

But she couldn't. He was in too much pain. She was in too much pain. She let out a yell, a desperate cry for help and for strength, trying to let everything out, but there was too much, far too much, and it did nothing but build it up even stronger.

His leg was too broken. She had no idea where to start with treating it. It had broken sharply – sharp enough to cut through flesh – and she couldn’t do anything. Even if she could get him back in one piece - but with the state of him, she couldn't: she couldn't go alone to get help and leave him, she couldn't carry him back alone either - it wouldn't heal. Not well at all, at least, not properly, and he wouldn't be able to run again. She wouldn't be able to ride him. He'd be slow, useless and an easy target to glassbeaks and night lions and Zith. She wouldn't be able to look after him, not in the slightest, because she still had to hunt, to leave him, and she didn’t have the money to pay for medicines and healers to help him. And she couldn't protect him from anything - he was her protector, not the other way around. He wouldn’t last long, not even a season, even if his leg was treated.

And the pain he was in - he would always be in that pain. She couldn't leave him in it.

Dira had to come again, didn't she? She had to come again and give Merevaika her job in her hands, force her to do what had to be done, what she couldn't do.

Hands trembling, she found her knife, letting it shine in the light. It was sharp. It was deadly. And she had to...

The Drykas dropped it before she could even think about doing anything, letting out another cry of pain to match Eryunt's and burying herself in his fur. Why couldn't she do this? Why couldn't she help him? Her body shook violently against him, begging for Dira to forgive her, to let Eryunt stay and be well. Why? Why did he have to be tortured like this? Why couldn't she do what the gods were waiting for her to do?

Because it was like cutting out her heart. That was why. It was like cutting out her heart and stabbing it several times over. Eryunt was part of her, as much as her arm was. More than that. He had saved her. Too many times to count or to list.

Yet when it came to it, she couldn't save him. "I'm sorry," she whispered to him, "Eryunt, please, please, Dira, I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

The knife was still waiting, glinting and waiting. She turned away from it, resting beside Eryunt, staring into his eyes that were full of pain, and trying to speak to him silently. She wanted to say something – anything and everything – but she had no words. Nothing to give him anymore, and she hated herself for not being there for him like she should have been.

oocSorry for the really long posts, and the fact there are two. I didn't meant to make it this long!

[Quzon]

It was the vibrations in the distance that he felt first. The many stamping of hooves berating the ground in fright as wild game tried to escape. When a singular deer crested a far hill on the other side of the vale, Quzon found himself less interested in it, and more focused on what the deer could be running from. If it was a predatory beast, then he'd have found himself a worthy creature to take a skull or pelt trophies from. However, his brow rose in curiosity once he realized that it was another hunter who chased after the deer.

"Merevaika?" He thought to himself, half trying to remember if that was her name while watching the woman he'd fought along side in the past while hunting Zith. Out of sheer morbid luck, Quzon found himself in the perfect position to witness Merevaika's entire fall.

It wasn't just a calm before the storm. It was a singular moment that reminded Quzon that there were few pains more potent than the silence...

The calm within the monstrosity that was harsh reality, the catching of a breath before one cried, the feeling of weightlessness as you fell, the silent realization of a life forever altered. And then it happened, as if on cue, that terrifying first scream to break the silence.

There was a slow, steady patience that Quzon knew to afford to the situation. He was a reasonably intelligent man, and for the most part, intelligence was just pattern recognition. That said, even the densest of beings could recognize that riding a horse down a hill after witnessing such a violent fall would be a bad idea.

He swung one leg over Zokoztli back to dismount from the horse to land on the ground with a heavy thud. He then started to walk down the hillside into the vale, keeping a hand on one of the Yvas handlebars and lead the seme slowly down to dry riverbed along side the narrow river. His boots splashed in the water as he led the horse across it, then let go of the handlebar. Quzon walked in front of his horse then ran a hand down the stallions nose. "Stay." He spoke in common before turning to run over to Mere.

Quzon completely ignored Eryunt when he first approached Merevaika who laid prone next to the bloody creature. A strong cultural barrier kept Quzon from truly understanding how important a strider was to a Drykas. The Myrian could have been a specter by the way he lingered in the background of the moment, simply crouching behind her, looking over her body to make sure that the blood that coated her body did not belong to her.

His emerald eyes drifted to the blade of a knife that laid glinting on the ground. And when he returned his gaze to the Drykas woman, It was obvious that she did not have the required willpower to end the creatures suffering. Quzon had enough empathy to feel sorry for the woman in his own way. If she could not do it, then he would lend her his strength in her moment of need...

Quzon left her knife on the ground and drew his own hunting knife from where it was sheathed on his belt. He stood up from his crouch to walk around the both of them in a circle, letting the woman have some type of 'last moment' with her horse. He made one full circle before approaching Eryunt's head from behind, then crouched down onto one knee.

He set the knife to the very top of the horses head, at an angle right between its ears to strike directly into Eryunt's brain. The tip of the blade touched to the horses head as he placed his other hand onto the butt of the knife. Then using both of his hands, forced the blade down into the beasts skull. Stabbing smoothly through its skull and right into its brain. "Is, beautiful death." And in one last act, twisted the blade to leave the horse brain dead on the ground. He withdrew the knife and wiped it clean on the fur of his armor.

"Everything die. It was time. I take you back, Endrykas. If not want horse death go waste, want me harvest horse meat so you feast on it? Honor it life, by let it death ...sustain.. you life?"

His common was broken, but he made sure to think about each word before speaking. As a man who did not like seeing waste, Quzon assumed that her hunt for deer was now over and would most likely not have a meal for the day. So offered to butcher her horse to feed her; for most likely the rest of the season, and give honorable meaning to its death.

[Merevaika]

Merevaika

She wrapped herself around Eryunt, pulling him close to her. There was someone near, she had noticed, but the Drykas couldn't focus on him, not now, not with her horse... It took everything in her not to yell out and scream and shout into the horizon with her pain. He was her life, her everything, her Strider and now the thread that gripped him was breaking. And no matter how tightly she held him, arms stretched across a body that had flown over the Sea of Grass countless of times, she knew he was going to leave her.

"Eryunt... I can't have you leave me. You've always been there for me - when I lost everyone, every time, when danger stared me in the eye and you saved me. I can't... Be strong. Be brave. Let the web always be your home. Come back to me. Come back to me. Stay with me!"

The man crouched near them, doing what had to be done but what she could never bring herself to do. She pulled Eryunt's head into her hands, holding him still and staring into his eyes, shushing softly and crying under her breath. He thrashed violently, before he sank, motionless. Gone. Gone from her and she finally let it all out in another scream, that did nothing.

There were words - the man was speaking, but his words were in another language to her, drifting away before she could even think of listening. Eryunt's words were the only ones in her mind. His neighs and snorts and screams, the nickers and the blows and squeals that had filled her life before. That she would never hear again. Her world was silent, and this man's words were not important.

Merevaika pulled herself closer to the dead horse, feeling his blood soak into her. "Feis zul rhotame," she whispered into his motionless ear, before giving a deep sob, inhaling sharply as she shook with the realisation what had happened. Then her hands moved quickly, pulling across his back and finding the yvas in her hands. While they shook, it took a few tries, but she managed to pull it loose as her eyes brimmed with tears. The yvas bags... the grooming kit... she scattered the possessions wildly, moving like a tempest with tears flying as she tried to do what she had to.

A brush - a brush - her hands could barely hold the brush as she brought it up to his lifeless body, pressing against him too light as she had done when he was only a colt, and she was only a child. The dirt came off, slowly, but the grooming missed all the good spots. He didn't protest when she pressed too hard, he didn't enjoy the scratching along his neck, there was no friendly noises or movements - or the stubbornness that matched her so well. His coat gleamed with each stroke, pulling the mud and blood off him as best as she could, and she cried and groomed in silence, for a final time. She would never feel his coat again, never brush her hands over it or coax the knots out of his mane.

The comb caught in her hands, her fingers in his mane, and she choked on it, pulling the mane back in her hands. He would have protested at that, at the little clumps that made his mane wild like his beginnings. In her mind, the first time she saw him, the time she bonded with him, flashed like it was only yesterday. It had meant to be forever. It was meant to be forever.

Her eyes snapped up to the man, anger flaming in her eyes as she tried to push the blame onto him. Onto someone - anyone - rather than her stupid, recklessness for making him run there, for making him go too fast and lose his footing.

"You!" her voice rose above what he said, "You killed him!" She rose, placing the comb above his head with his other possessions. The knife hit her boot as she stepped forward, but she kicked it out of the way, knowing hurting this man wasn't what she really wanted. Instead, she leapt forward with her bare fists, ready to smash against his chest, both feebly and full of emotion. "You took Eryunt from me! You took... you took..." and she collapsed into tears, falling forward into him. She meant none of her words, she knew that. He had done what she had meant to do but couldn't. But that only made her anger stronger.

[Quzon]

Maybe he was being too pragmatic for the seriousness of the situation. He stood looking the horse over, trying to decided where best to start butchering the dead horse for its good meat while Merevaika still chose to talk to the future carrion for vultures. When he did not get a reply to his question, he turned his attention back to the woman as she spoke to it.

Quzon never cared much for other people or their plights. Even now he felt disgust at her sign of weakness. And yet, would respect in this strife. It would be a great challenge for her to rise above her own anguish, then find a deeply personal victory over herself. However, It was the sincerity of her pain that shook him to his core. Her pain seemed to emanate from the woman like the heat curling off a festering wound.

When she started to remove the horses yvas bags, he started to silently clean up after her by gathering her possessions for when they needed to leave. He gathered each item up in a nice pile on the ground. Quzon felt the need to make himself scarce, at least for a chime or two, so went to look near the point of the fall for anything that might have been dropped... giving her a private moment to groom Eryunt for the final time as he walked up the trail.

He absently began picking up scattered arrows, letting his eyes drifting too and fro until he'd found the bow that fired them on the ground. The Myrian picked it up, then walked back to place all of the items down in that same pile near Merevaika. It was the least he could do to help her. His eyes snapped back to her once she yelled at him.

The Drykas woman was not wrong.

He had mercifully put her strider out of its misery. But unlike Eryunt, all he could do to help support her was simply be in the moment with her. When she approached him in tears, he could tell from the way she hit him that all she wanted to do was stop the pain. Stop the fear. Stop the death.

"I'm not sorry," Quzon said in a soft, low voice in common. His arms wrapped around her once she fell against him, hugging her close to consul her. A faint hint of sadness crossed Quzon's expression at that, but for the most part, he managed to keep his countenance impassive. "Your sadness, it wish you dead. He spoke in broken common, trying to really think of the proper words to get his feeling across.

"It want, you. Stay here and die. So, hate me. Fall not kill horse, I kill horse. This not you fault." His voice was stern as he looked down at her. As Quzon looked at her, he lifted one hand to sharply slap her across the face. It was a slap partly used to shock her into reality with the sting of pain. After all, they were both still in the middle of the Sea of Grass far from the city. And also make her hate him, because no one likes being slapped.

Even if it wasn't a true reason to hate, he agreed to be the focus of her hate if it would let her move on with her life. "Now, get things. We go back Endrykas. There nothing here, only sadness."

[Merevaika]

Merevaika

There were arms, around her, but they were nothing, not the body of Eryunt, not his warmth nor his comfort. Through his common and her own, she barely understood his words. Sorry - was he? Was he? She couldn't tell, still choking on her own breath, her own tears. She had no idea what he was saying, and she couldn't stop to listen and decipher his words, because her mind had been flung on other things. Only words slipped through the barricade of tears and pain, words about death. About how he killed Eryunt. About... how....

Something hit her cheek, hard, rough, sharp. The stinging rippled across her face, tingling where the tears had fallen, but compared to the pain inside her, they felt like nothing, only a sharp way to drag her out of her thoughts and back to the Sea of Grass. Her eyes fell on the man with distaste, irritated because of the interruption and the blow and hating him for everything so she could have someone to hate that wasn't herself. Because he killed Eryunt. It was her fault, still, but he had done it. He had - he had-

She spat sharply at him as she turned, not waiting to see his reaction and found her things, piled together beside his dead body. That bow... he had always slowed when she got it out, his gait had always seemed to smooth. What other horse would know to do that, how to, when to? What other horse did she fit together with, horse and rider, as she hunted, as she rode, as she lived and breathed?

Her mind refused to tell herself the answer as she slowed, avoiding his dead, lifeless nothingness, and gathered her possessions. They slotted into her hands, across her shoulder, but where was the quiver to hold them? With Eryunt, of course, and she had to find her way back over, place the left over arrows in their place. He was a hunter's horse, and the world better know that.

As she did, she found the anger rise in her, fist growing tighter and tighter around the wood of her bow, until her knuckles were as white as his bone. She couldn't just leave him, she couldn't just get her things, go back, as if nothing had happened, as if she hadn't just lost her other half. And this man... Who was he to suggest that she could, that she should?

All of a sudden, she flung the bow down towards her feet, to the side, out of her way. Her eyes flamed red with anger, and she span where she stood, stumbling forward towards the blue muscled man with fist clenched-

Her mouth opened, spewing out the best noises she could make, as she toppled towards him-

And she attempted to make impact, all her feelings and anger and pain loaded into this one shot-

Straight towards his chest, eyes flashing, tears pouring down her cheeks.

Her whole body pushed into the blow, following through wherever the fist fell. She couldn't care if it left her defenceless, left her open for attack. It didn't matter - Eryunt was gone, nothing mattered anymore.