• Closed • Run Away With Me Now

[Kali'rial]

32nd Vhalar, 717, Near Sunset

Muscial Inspiration

Sitting on the floor against the bed in her old room, Kali'rial thumbed the pipe in her hand. It was polished by years of use, and smelt of the herbs Dyn'rial favoured smoking. Her heart hurt, as though it was physically splitting in two. When Xan'nuea had passed away, it had been sad, but it had also been coming so she'd had time to accept it and time to grieve. The suddenness of Dyn'rials departure was a shock, biting into her very bones and leaving her with a pain that almost threatened to suffocate her.

Closing her eyes, the huntress fought back the tears that wanted to come. It was too much, if she started to cry now, she wouldn't stop. How much she had still to say to him, stubborn old fool. Gripping the pipe, a sudden thought popped in her head.

You're an orphan now. No family to speak of. The last of the 'Rial name.

Opening her eyes, the Sev'ryn stared at the ceiling with her vision too blurred to really see. Taking a deep breath, the brunette tried to find a sense of calm, of centre. Exhaling shakily, Kali felt the warmth of a furred body as Sarkis materialised against her side with a soft whine and a gentle lick of her cheek. The huntress reached out to put her arms around the large wolf's neck and buried her face in his fur.

"I am sorry you are in pain Kali'rial, but know you're not without family." Pulling back with a sniff and wiping her eyes, the brunette shook her head.

"You didn't need to hear that. What else have I got Sarkis? My parents are gone, my Nonna is gone, my Poppa..." She couldn't finish the thought, even as the large grey wolf placed his head on her knees and looked up at her with earnest golden eyes.

"You've got me, everywhere and always, but you also have your mate. Is he not family too?" Kali'rial looked at her companion for a moment, before nodded and patting his head.

"You're right. In fact, you're more than right. I need to do something, come on, let's get out of here." Leaving the room, she walked through to the living room and looked at the tanned Biqaj she had left there. Collecting The Huntress from the table where she had left it, the brunette held out her hand.

"Pash, come with me. There's something I need to show you."

----------

Kali was nervous. Much more nervous than she really needed to be, given this was something she'd had been in wanting to do for well over a season now, but when in Ymiden she had planned to do it, at the last moment she'd backed out. There was so much going on, so many feelings and emotions mixed with all the adventures...it had all just been too much at the time.

Now though, was the right time.

"Come on now, it's not that much further." The huntress said with a soft smile, turning her head to look at the Biqaj she was leading by the hand along a well worn path that would through the trees beyond the city walls. She marvelled again at how effortlessly handsome the sunkissed bard was, his gold burnished locks catching the last light of the day as it filtered through the canopy. Soon, when the moon shone in the sky, his skin would glow in the night time as his silvery Biqaj blood shone. It still amazed the young woman how she'd managed to fall in love with someone so wonderful, and to have him love her in return.

Turning her head back again, Kali's smile faulted and became a frown. Why couldn't Poppa have see it that way? The memories of their reunion cut deeply into her heart, burning with guilt and sorrow. Shaking off the thoughts with a deep breath, the brunette continued to lead Pash towards their destination even as the sun disappeared beyond the tree line. It would not take long for it to get dark. Beyond them, scouting ahead was the spirit wolf, invisible and silent in his ethereal form.

[Pash Raj'oriq]

The past two trials had been a blur of yellowing bruises and smeared emotions, Pash having hemmed away his own sorrow that seemed so petty and shallow in comparison to the loss of a person, of family, of life. The darkness of Magani was a shadow that followed him waking and sleeping, not because it was impossible to forget creatures made of that darkness but because life had been stolen—both into slavery as well as poured out in blood, the redness of which was still a contrast in the tall Biqaj’s mind to his own. It was unnecessary, Dyn’rial’s death, and he found himself without the right words to say for a man he didn’t know but who had been all Kali’rial had left of living family.

His comfort for her had been a quiet one, present and attentive because he knew she needed him but not as wordy as he was known to be. When she’d wanted to go back to her home and stay, to figure out what to do with all that was left, he’d come with her, giving her the space she needed, alone in the living area for a few bits. His thoughts shifted inward, remembering his return to Ne’Haer just under an arc ago after the shadow beasts had attacked his home, after his brother had died in the fighting and his father had been crippled defending him. If he’d been there, would his fate had been the same? He hadn’t dealt with the loss well, nor had he wanted the responsibility that Traek had all but begged to hand over to him. He’d abandoned them in their sorrow and need because he hadn’t been able to process it all.

And here he was desperate to not repeat himself, feeling guilty that it was easier to stay for his lover than it had been for his entire family. Perhaps it wasn’t. Perhaps he’d just changed.

Whatever the truth was, his heart ached in the hull of his chest, heavy with a sense of loss that didn’t just belong to him. When Kali’rial asked to take him somewhere, Pash reluctantly agreed, knowing the break, knowing the sun would set soon and wary to be outside the safety of the city walls. He’d insisted on leaving armed, of being prepared, lest there be some horrifying repeat of all that had happened just trials before.

Once satisfied with weapons and his domain bag, he let her lead him out of town, her hand in his and a gentle mercy in the smiles they were still willing to share between each other. While so much of his surface self appeared a physical creature, his needs were often deceptively simple, the complicated tangle of his emotional life was much more of what really defined him. In all of the chaos, the calming threads of his feelings for the dark-haired Sev’ryn had somehow managed to hold everything together. Pash caught the way she looked at him, her amber gaze warmed by a lover’s bias but unquestionably sincere,

“Where’s this place we’re goin' an’ why can’t we go in th’ daytime, qau’ma?” The seafaring musician asked with a grin, tide pool gaze watching with equally unconcealed admiration how the lithe huntress moved with practiced ease through the forest, bare feet so sure of their steps and her well-muscled, familiar body in motion with a confidence he didn’t have on land, let alone in the thick wildness outside of Desnind,

“We shouldn’t stay out too long after dark.”

[Kali'rial]

32nd Vhalar, 717

Watching her steps as they walked, Kali'rial smiled at the bards curious yet concerned words. True night was a dangerous mistress, especially since the events of the Magani, but the huntress knew this place. It was safer then most places in both Scalvoris and Desnind, given the hunters that visited it frequently and perhaps the strange influence of the ghostly child that was rumoured to protect their destination.

Within just a few bits, the trees opened up to reveal a beautiful sight. Before them ran a shallow river, shin deep if one was to stand in it, that flowed tamely over rocks to create miniature waterfalls. The water was cool and crystal clear, dark in the evening, and perhaps would have been darker still was it not for the iyo fluttering around the air like fireflies of various colors, their caterpillar forms glowing in the trees surrounding the river. It was truly magical to behold.

"It's called Toṣïbẹẹrẹ Whakamātao, after an old story. There was a young child that came here when it was wild and rough. He fell in, and he drowned, but the stories say his soul remained here to tame the river and make it safe for the rest of the Sevir." Looking back at the man, she let his hand go to allow him freedom to explore the beautiful place, moving to stand in the cool waters with her bare feet. It felt good, and the huntress could resist closing her eyes to just breathe.

It was easy to forget the pain of the past trials in such a moment.

"This place is safe, at least mostly. The Little Child protects it, and hunters come so often that wild creatures rarely appear. The scent of Sev'ryn scares them off."

Opening her eyes again, the brunette reached into her coin pouch where she had been holding something precious to her. Turning the item over in her fingers, Kali'rial watched the inked Biqaj as he moved, the silvery glow he released complimenting the iyo light in a curiously perfect way. The nerves she felt before faded, as she realised that this was exactly the right time.

"Pash Raj'oriq. You changed your name, and I understand why. I understand the meaning behind it, and I feel like when I say it my heart could burst. But," The southern born woman moved through the waters as she spoke, wanting to be face to face with the seafaring bard, to let him hear her words clearly. Looking up into his aurora born eyes with her own golden Immortal granted ones, she hoped that it wasn't too soon.

"...I realised today that I've lost...everyone. Except you. And I've changed too. I should have done this ages ago. I should have introduced you not as Pash Raj'oriq, but as someone else. Something else." Kali was getting lost in her words, trying to explain to him the importance of what she was leading up to. Her heart ached for the loss they had both experienced these past trials.

"I have something to give you." She said softly, looking down at her closed hand between them. Taking one of his own with her free one, Kali'rial pressed a bone carving into his hand. It was about two inches, and smooth from years of handling.

"I've had it for years, hidden away in my room. I collected things along the trade routes, pretty or curious little things that were special to me. If Nonna and Poppa knew they would have made me get rid of them, useless frugal things of no worth. But they were worth something to me. This was special because I didn't know what the creature was. I still don't." The brunette waited for Pash to look over the item, allowing him to examine it whilst she collected her thoughts for her next words.

Carving

[Pash Raj'oriq]

Led by his lover as the sun set, the trees thinned and gave way to a little shore and a shallow, tumbling river. Water washed over rocky levels and the strange glowing insects—iyo, he’d learned in the Xanthean—lit up the entire area in a way that rivaled the stars. It was beautiful, perhaps one of the most beautiful things he’d seen in Desnind since he’d viewed it from the air on the back of a giant moth. Smiling, he relaxed visibly at her words, though it was difficult to entirely shake off the weight in the hull of his chest darkness now seemed to anchor him with. She gave the place a name he couldn’t quite yet pronounce, the Xanthean language full of strange vowels his mouth felt clumsy to form and his tongue slow to shape.

She released his hand and waded in, allowing him to pause for a few bits to look around, tide pool gaze taking it all in while she told the story of the river and the Little Child before she grew quiet. Safety felt fleeting lately, but he smiled at the dark-haired Sev’ryn anyway, watching her in her silence with her eyes closed while he slipped off his sandals and curled toes into damp earth. His broad smile went unseen for those wordless moments, violet currents swirling in his gaze not out of place in the context of his passionate layers of feelings.

The water was not swift-moving and cool. Fresh water was still a different sensation that the seafaring musician couldn’t put into words, Rakahi having far too many ways to describe U’Frek’s domain that didn’t translate into a coherent Common thought. Pash waded to meet her and she spoke quietly about his new name. Kali’s tone was weighty,

"Somethin’ else, qau’ma?" With his choice of name, he’d also been rather honest with his intentions, and when his lover said something else, his expression softened. For himself, the lithe huntress had become someone else, someone he hadn’t been looking for but needed to find, and as she spoke it seemed as though Kali felt much the same. Much had been lost in less than a handful of trials, and while Pash had not lost irreplaceably, Kali’rial had truly lost the last bindings of family that kept her tethered to what she had once been, to who she had been raised to be.

She had something to give him? The warmth that spread through the hull of his chest and tickled the back of his neck was unfamiliar. A confused rush of anticipation raced with his pulse when she took his hand, though what she placed against his calloused palm was not what he expected, if he had expectations at all,

"It’s a whale." The seafaring musician answered shyly, looking up from the carving that was probably in whalebone itself, running a thumb over the shape of it, "You’ll see ‘em when we travel. Bigger than those beasts in th’ harbor, but most whales ‘re somewhat harmless. They sing. Really sing. I’ve heard them, in m' ship an' also as a noch—an’ I—their sound—"

Pash stopped talking suddenly and bit his lip, fingers curling around the carved whale, his first memories of such song his first real connection to music. Hearing the singing of whales under water while swimming as a child had fascinated him and opened up a current of conversation between himself and the father of his mother, his grandfather who’d taught him to play the lute, whose lute Zanik had held and played … which was … broken and splintered now.

The tall Biqaj’s breath hitched and he forced himself to refocus on Kali’rial with tears hot in his eyes, "—What’s this for? Why’re y’ givin' it t’ me here an’ now?"

He wasn’t as dense as his words, the Empath feeling between the words and the quiet, watching his lover’s expression and hearing her tone of voice. If this was a particularly specific moment as it seemed to be, then what the dark-haired Sev’ryn surely didn’t know was that Pash was prepared in kind. He grinned, not bothering to wipe his cheeks with the back of his hand, patient.

[Kali'rial]

32nd Vhalar, 717

Whale.

The idea of a massive sea creature doing something as graceful as singing was a strange one, none-the-less beautiful in the impact it seemed to have on the moonlit bard. His miraculous violet eyes were brimming, and whilst she knew the color of passion, the brunette sensed the Biqaj wasn’t being consumed by the often lustful emotion. It was passion for the moment. The huntress watched as he focused on her again, being sure she didn’t look away in embarrassment or fear, hands brushing his as though she was unsure whether to hold them or not.

”This gift has great meaning to me, and by giving it to you it’s a sign and a promise of the trust that I give to you, something I will not break.” Smiling, Kali’rial took a deep breath, pressing herself to continue talking even if she was shaking with nervousness. His grin was infectious, even if she felt her own eyes stinging with unshed tears.

”Pash Raj’oriq, áidà, qua’ma. You are so many things to me, my light in the darkness. My beacon of strength. With you, I can face anything. Everything. I want...” Her voice gave out, thick with emotion. Taking another breath, the Sev’ryn closed her eyes and breathed steadily out before opening them again.

”I want to ask you to be my dabi uaya, my bonded. To forever stand as one with me.” As the iyo glowed around them in the night air, Kali’rial looked over the sunkissed face of the man she wanted to spend the rest of her life with, a tremor catching in her throat.

”Usually after accepting one another as dabi uaya, our parents would organise a date and a ceremony for the bonding. Family and friends would attend to celebrate and acknowledge the bonding, before everyone eats and drinks and dances. After the celebration, the promised dabi uaya would complete the bonding with a small ritual, palm to palm. Once bonded, dabi uaya are then free to bare children together. To create life and families together.” Laughing gently at the bitter irony of the ceremony requirements, Kali’rial shrugged.

”I don’t have parents to set a date or a ceremony for us, but I don’t care. I want you to be my promised, with or without the stupid ritual, because I know in my heart it’s right.” In the eyes of her people, without the parental ceremony it was no more than an engagement, but the huntress didn’t care. As long as Pash could understand what she felt, what she wanted for them, what this truly was. Standing in silence, the water running gently across their feet, the Sev’ryn finally dropped her golden gaze to their hands, not quite holding his but also not apart.

”If you’ll accept me, that is.” She said softly, almost in a whisper.

[Pash Raj'oriq]

Her smile was purposeful, and she kept brushing his hands as if she wanted to hold them. So he took hers, lacing their fingers together so that the little carved whale pressed against both their palms. Teary-eyed and full of far too meaningful words, Pash moved closer so their sore bodies were touching, battered from the difficult trials previous in Magani. His grin only widened somewhat sheepishly as Kali’rial blended their terms of endearment and affection, the words between their languages carrying different weights but the same meanings.

The tall Biqaj blinked at the new word, but it wasn’t because he didn’t understand what it meant, “Dabi uaya.” He repeated somewhat breathlessly, the hushed baritone of his voice no less warm with emotion than her own, "Promised one." He said in Rakahi, before he made sure she understood just how much he agreed,“Th’ word is th’ same—qau’ma—m’ heart doesn’t change jus’ because ‘f a ceremony. It feels as though it’s always been for you, m’ heart. Jus’ waitin’.”

Pash wasn’t attempting to make light of the situation, aware of the weight of his lover’s loss, of her lack of any family at all now. That was a heavy burden and one he only vaguely understood, having lost a brother but not a parent, his grandfather having passed only shortly before he set sail eight arcs ago. She laughed dismissively and the seafaring musician slid his hands from hers, moving up over her arms to take her face in his palms, bone memento looped between his fingers,

“Qes, Kali’rial. Qes djal—yes, please.” He wiped her cheeks with calloused thumbs, having wiped far too many tears over the seasons, over the past two trials, though he wasn’t ashamed of his own, either. He leaned to kiss her then, standing in the cool water of the gentle river with the iyo and the trees and the strange wildness of Desnind that hadn’t been made entirely ugly by the shadow of Magani. Lingering with the weight of their shared intentions, with his honest acceptance, with his similar desires, he slid his hands away from her face and for a moment it may have seemed as though he was going to let them wander. Smiling against her lips, he pulled away reluctantly,

“What I feel in m’ heart is th’ same.” Pash offered quietly, shyly, such an admission sounding strange when spoken out loud no matter how much he’d considered it over the short beginning of the season, perhaps since early in Saun. It seemed that time had flowed both swiftly like a current in their lives since they’d met and yet also somehow slowly, particular moments weaving a rich tapestry of bright, vibrant feelings and brighter purpose, “I don’t need a ceremony, though m’ people make promises t’ each other with one, too. Together, we make ourselves both but neither, an’ I accept that choice—”

While he didn’t think his parents would entirely object to such a union, he’d already made decisions that set him apart from his clan. Perhaps now had his father asked him to stay, he would agree, and he could almost feel how achingly close they were to Ne’Haer—just a handful of ten-trials by a boat that wouldn’t have been The Muse. He didn’t want to come home that way, though, he wasn’t ready, and he knew they’d have to head back to Scalvoris and make the longer journey in his sloop before he was truly prepared to present them together as one to his family.

He moved to reach into the bag he’d brought with him, his domain bag that was full of plenty more things he didn’t need in this moment to find the one thing he did,

“—th’ choice t’ be as one with you, Kali’rial.” Reaching for her hand with his free one, his other now held two things, though his calloused fingers were curled around them both. Turning her palm upward, he opened his to reveal his own token of their heartfelt promises, a ring:

A ring!

It was a careful mixture of Scalvoris Yellow Dragon wood and Egilrund glass, made resilient through a rather careful discussion with an Egilrund alchemist. While both elements were obvious, together the landscape created on the ring almost looked like the tide washing up on shore. It was a purposeful blend of what Pash saw them as, a representation of their togetherness, Biqaj and Sev’ryn.

He grinned, clearing his throat as if something was stuck there, but his heart had filled the entire hull of his chest and there was no sound that would budge it except for his quiet, serious words, “M’haps this is what folks exchange in a fancy ceremony, but have it now. M’ feelin’s between whenever that’ll be an’ this moment won’t diminish ‘r change so much as grow stronger an’ brighter. Now’s as good a time as any t’ me. I love you, Kali’rial, an’ m’ promise to-trial is for forever as far ’s I’m concerned, no matter what y’ wanna call it.”

That was probably as formal of a promise as the seafaring musician was capable of making. It wasn’t with his usual eloquence, for it was clear he struggled to string a sentence together coherently with his broad grin and tears on his face, far too full of unspoken emotions and thoughts than the ones he managed to say out loud. Perhaps had he said the same in Rakahi it would have felt less informal, but he meant it all. He wasn’t one for convention, much to the chagrin of his family and his misadventures across Idalos, but he was sure of how he felt for the dark-haired Sev’ryn. If he was sure of nothing else anymore, he knew so much of his life paled in comparison to a few short seasons with her in it.

Ledger, etc.

Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee. Feels.

Item	Cost
Egilrund glass + wooden ring	75gn
2 materials	+10gn
Preparation of Glass	+10gn
Preparation of Wood	+10gn
Hard as Steel	+10gn
Sealing	+10gn
Total for one	125gn
Two of them	250gn

I have paid for 2 of them, but here Pash is only presenting one at the moment. The other is his.

[Kali'rial]

32nd Vhalar, 717

More songing

Lifting her tawny gaze to meet his as the Xanthean words spilled from his lips, Kali’rial drew in a deep breath as Pash repeated them in Rakahi, her heart singing at the sound. To her, his native tongue was beautiful, and to hear her words spoken back in the Biqaj’s language was almost poetic. Immortals the seafaring minstrel could be speaking her own heart, it was as though her sheltered life had been especially made just for him, preparing her and holding her fast so the stars could align and they could meet.

Smiling through tears that were now welling as the inked bard shifted his hands up her arms to her face, she couldn’t help but laugh again a little nervously as he grinned at her and shake her head as though to imply she was all out of words. Her lip quivered at the pang in her chest thinking of her losses so far, unable to stop the tears that escaped to disappear in the cool clear waters around them. Bringing her hands up to rest on his chest, the brunette huntress looked into the depths of his captivating gaze, her heart all but thumping out of her chest.

Yes, Immortals he was saying yes.

The Sev’ryn let out a sound that was something between a sob and a laugh, tilting her face to meet the lips of the Biqaj with joy and relief, almost wanting to hold him to her as the bard pulled away with a smile. As Pash’s hands moved, Kali nodded at his sentiments, not trusting herself to speak without falling apart with the overwhelming emotions that flowed through her. Watching his calloused hands move to the domain bag that was now a constant companion, her smile turned slightly confused, amber eyes dropping to the bag then back to his face.

As his golden tanned hand took her own, Kali looked down, following the movement as Pash turned hers upward to place something in it. As the sunkissed man opened his hand the huntress gasped soundly, her free hand moving to her mouth with shock when the beautiful ring was revealed, the iyo light catching the smooth brilliant blue of the Egilrund glass and shining through to gently illuminate the Dragonwood. It was like the ocean washing on the shore, a perfect and beautiful representation of their own racial joining. The Biqaj spoke, quiet and serious, confessing again his love with or without ceremony.

“Pash I...” The Sev’ryn began, lifting the ring to examine it with a sense of awe and speechless emotion. Her gift paled in comparison if one were to compare beauty and costs, Kali was sure of it, but the values spoke the same words.

Love. Promise. Commitment.

“It’s breathtaking. How long...” A sudden realisation dawned on the huntress then as she slipped the precious gift on her ring finger. Pash had not expected her to propose, so there was no way he prepared this for the exact moment. The Biqaj had clearly been planning to give this to her, somewhere in the future he had made plans.

Committed plans.

With a hearty sob Kali’rial hrew her arms around the man, raising up on tiptoe and crushing him tightly in a warm embrace whilst squeezing her eyes shut against the salty tears that spilled forth. Pulling back with her free hand pressing against his stubbled cheek, she sniffed and laughed and cried all at once, kissing his lips in a series of happy smacks.

“I love you too, Pash Raj’oriq, so so much.” She whispered, pressing her forehead against his with a hitched breath and a sigh. Immortals, if her heart didn’t feel like it would burst from her chest with emotion. The southerner felt her throat constrict with the sudden urge to cry, not just in happiness but in hurt and loss and anger.

As they stood in the cool clear waters of the beautiful river, Sarkis broke the sounds of the night with a long low howl. It was haunting, an appropriate celebration from the wolf. Kali’rial looked at the canine with a smile, shaking off the tears and stepping back a little from the bard.

“Let’s get back to the village. Whilst this place is relatively safe, the forests beyond can be a little less so.” Admiring the ring on her finger once more, the brunette Sev’ryn led him from the waters and towards Desnind.

There wasn’t anyone to excitely share her news or joy with, but then even if Dyn’rial had survived that wasn’t going to happen anyway. Damn stubborn old man.

[Pegasus]

Pending!

[Pegasus]

And again, I'm going to give you both feedback here. What a beautiful thread - I love it. I love that Kali asked Pash, but Pash already had the ring and the two of them just stepped together in the next step on their lovely, lovely journey together. It was really poignant, really fitting and I loved it. Full of emotion, made me cry, beautiful writing and lovely story. I can't give you separate feedback because the way you wrote this was so in synch with each other that I have to just say bravo to you both. A beautiful story, expertly told.

Pash

Points

XP: 15

Fame: None (no one there to see it etc)

Loot

all accounted for.

Knowledge

Caregiving: Comforting one in sorrow when also hurting
Detection: Knowing when there's more on her mind
Linguistics: Words of love's promises in any tongue
Linguistics: Xanthean: Dabi uaya means promised one
Rhetoric: Accepting a proposal! Yes!
Rhetoric: Promising yourself to another
Sociology: Engagement across cultures
Sociology: Ceremony optional

Non-Skill Knowledges:
Kali'rial: Proposed to you
Kali'rial: Put a ring on it

Kali'rial

Points

XP: 15

Fame: None

Loot

All in order

Knowledge

Discipline: Pushing back the pain and moving on
Discipline: Finding your courage to make a move
Navigation: Leading another through the jungle
Rhetoric: You can be an orphan even as an adult
Sociology: Sharing your cultures bonding ritual
Sociology: Asking someone to marry you—eventually

Non-Skill Knowledges:
Pash Raj'oriq: Said qes!
Pash Raj'oriq: Already had commitment plans