Pash may have agreed that Kali’rial hadn’t lived, but it was for different reasons. She was alive and breathing, but the walls of her defenses were so high and so thick, that it was a wonder to him how so much light had gotten in. Underneath the fearful, overcautious dourness of so much unspoken hurt was a very bold, feisty woman. He had seen her, more than once, and yet she was elusive. What glimpses he had seen were like the ancient wonders of the Immortal’s Tongue or the incomparable beauty of living creatures in the Scalroth Jungle—lovely and unique.
This was why. Ah, to change it all, to help her be free of this literal, bloody mess.
“You did live.” He replied softly at her objection, not glancing at her right away as he kept his hardened blue gaze on the creature, “You jus’ didn’t know ’t. Maybe now you can see.”
Kali looked up at him, quietly thanking him for he didn’t know what. He’d just said what he felt was obvious, what he figured anyone with half a brain and at least one eye could see—anyone, except for her. She had felt warm in his arms, a hot brand of existence that had somehow swiftly blazed a mark inside the hull of his chest, but even as she pulled away to hold his hand, the warmth she radiated lingered between them. She turned to the gory beast and yelled. She shouted no with all of her very being at the bloody creature of her nightmares, the terrifying anchor that had held her at bay for so long.
Pash smiled, strangely enough, at the fiery outburst of defiance and change.
Everything began to unravel: the beast glared at them and fled, chased away by sound and people. The dark-haired Sev’ryn turned toward him, but she looked past him. He heard, but only faintly—
—His name, said in fear, woke him, Kali’rial reaching for him in the half light breaks before dawn. His sloop and the familiar sounds of water and the docks filled his consciousness, washing away the forest and the bloody scene he’d been witness to in his dream. Slowly coalescing into wakefulness, Pash rolled towards the lithe huntress who had taken rather kindly to sharing his bed. She’d sat up but he simply curled in her direction, arms moving to touch her, warm hands seeking to wrap around what he could grasp,
“Aye, still here—’m here.” The seafaring musician mostly mumbled, his sleepy voice far deeper than when fully awake, though his tone felt distant, still wrapped in a bit of dreamscape. Where would he be going at this break? Where had he been? The dark-haired Sev’ryn’s body was comfortable and real, and while he could swear he’d just been holding her, it was an odd feeling to wake and find he was not, “Jus’ had th’ wildest dream, though. Y’ a’right?”
This was why. Ah, to change it all, to help her be free of this literal, bloody mess.
“You did live.” He replied softly at her objection, not glancing at her right away as he kept his hardened blue gaze on the creature, “You jus’ didn’t know ’t. Maybe now you can see.”
Kali looked up at him, quietly thanking him for he didn’t know what. He’d just said what he felt was obvious, what he figured anyone with half a brain and at least one eye could see—anyone, except for her. She had felt warm in his arms, a hot brand of existence that had somehow swiftly blazed a mark inside the hull of his chest, but even as she pulled away to hold his hand, the warmth she radiated lingered between them. She turned to the gory beast and yelled. She shouted no with all of her very being at the bloody creature of her nightmares, the terrifying anchor that had held her at bay for so long.
Pash smiled, strangely enough, at the fiery outburst of defiance and change.
Everything began to unravel: the beast glared at them and fled, chased away by sound and people. The dark-haired Sev’ryn turned toward him, but she looked past him. He heard, but only faintly—
—His name, said in fear, woke him, Kali’rial reaching for him in the half light breaks before dawn. His sloop and the familiar sounds of water and the docks filled his consciousness, washing away the forest and the bloody scene he’d been witness to in his dream. Slowly coalescing into wakefulness, Pash rolled towards the lithe huntress who had taken rather kindly to sharing his bed. She’d sat up but he simply curled in her direction, arms moving to touch her, warm hands seeking to wrap around what he could grasp,
“Aye, still here—’m here.” The seafaring musician mostly mumbled, his sleepy voice far deeper than when fully awake, though his tone felt distant, still wrapped in a bit of dreamscape. Where would he be going at this break? Where had he been? The dark-haired Sev’ryn’s body was comfortable and real, and while he could swear he’d just been holding her, it was an odd feeling to wake and find he was not, “Jus’ had th’ wildest dream, though. Y’ a’right?”
