• Mature • Hey, Soul Sister

[Vakhanor]

Furious, Vakhanor denied Elyna the privilege of his concern and sat watching the fireflies until his mind had time to process the events that had just transpired. That face, those blonde locks of mangled half a head of hair, Vakh had seen them a thousand times before. There was no mistaking it, Rhea's head lay half eaten at the bottom of the crypt. Hastily removing the note from his pocket, he swore when he could not read it in the light. Rampant with unadulterated rage the smith could feel the fire burning in his heart, it was so close to igniting now.

"Yeah," he said thoughtlessly to Elyna, not paying attention to a single word of what she was saying. Lost in a world of grief, the hope that Vakhanor once held for himself had gone and was replaced by a lost and hollow man void of thought.

Breathing slowly his lifeless eyes lifted onto the noble with a look of scorn "Witch..." the word that tinged on the edge of his thoughts escaped his tongue as a tear ran streaming down his face. 'You don't get to cry,' he had always told himself 'You don't get to be weak.'

'Why?'

Elyna. She was all he had left, how could he hate her? His expression retreated into confusion, defiance and then finally acceptance. The truth was that he had a bond with the noble woman that he had not expected to have with another human being again, she had given him hope and together they had somehow dragged themselves out of the dirt of his brother's death. Bjorn would not have wanted Vakhanor to give up. Getting a grip on himself, the halfblood did his best to ignore the nagging temptation to give in to the fire. Vakhanor dried his eyes, he had to be calm. "Don't ever do that again. You are all I have left now, but I am not your puppet Elyna," he warned in a cold voice and stood "Let's get out of here, this place is unsettling and I need to calm down."

[Elyna]

The Smith clearly had no intention to answer her questions. Elyna tucked them away, storing them for safety and determined to ask them again at a later date. For now, Vakh was struggling and she remained quiet, watching him. Twice she opened her mouth to speak, then closed it again. Would her words hurt or help? The woman had no way of knowing so she remained mute, grateful for the chance to catch her own breath.

Witch

She recoiled back from him, forced her hands into her pockets and looked skyward. Frustration bubbled with anger and she counted slowly to ten, determined not to loose her temper. Vakhanor was in pain, he was struggling, he was angry. She grit her teeth and forced her own feelings aside. He had come to her for help, and she’d so far, only made everything worse. But she wasn’t a witch.

The woman reached out and offered him a hand, “come on…” she helped him to his feet as much as he allowed and silently led the way back towards the outskirts of the city. It was on weary legs that they climbed back up the hill to the home she’d shared, ever so briefly with Malcolm. Elyna hesitated on the doorstep before opening the door for them both. She made short work of stoking the fire and bringing light to the living room, setting a pot of water to boil before dropping onto one of the chairs. She studied Vakh carefully, chewing her bottom lip.

“Vakh…it looked like you lost control for a moment…I know you’re at least part Aukari,” she admitted quietly, “I won’t tell anyone…and I’ve known since the beginning so…” so he hopefully wouldn’t worry about her opinion of him changing. The woman let out a slow, unsteady breath.

“Why did you come to me tonight?” The water started to bubble and she returned to her feet, making a simple tea for the Smith, and her usual ginger laced concoction for herself. It was unlikely they were going to get much sleep in the remaining breaks of night anyway.

“How can I help you?”

[Vakhanor]

A lull of anger hung in the midnight air as the two wandered their way back to Elyna's abode. The house, almost whimsical in its appearance was warm in comparison to the bitter chill of the cold outside. Opting away from the luxuries of cushions Vakhanor diverted himself away from comfort and sat on the floor. An army of tears threatened to break the barrier of his resolve and so he abstained until Elyna finally spoke again.

"I'm not an Aukari, my lady. It would be an insult to their bloodline to call me one of their own," he answered staring blankly into the fireplace. Although he did not believe that statement, it was one that had been taught to him since he was a boy. A long time ago he might have considered himself one, if he hadn't left to live back with his mother but he did. "Yes I am close to losing control, your lack of trust in me infuriates me. The fire tempts all who are of the bloodline, abomination or otherwise. Some abominations are lucky enough they never get it, there are those who are not so lucky. It has been beaten out of me to give in to temptation, never give into the fire no matter how much you want it and never let your emotions rule you. You are like the fire Elyna, I could not live in this moment without you but neither can I give in to the temptation of you," he confessed, averting his eyes to the floor.

The smith had intended just to show Elyna the place he used to go when he was younger to relax, talk and laugh. Unfortunately none of that happened and here he was, sat back in the same place he started in a worse position. Stuck in dirty clothing that smelt like it'd been dragged out the sewer, Vakh grimaced down at it. Everything had just been too much for him, he never thought he would have to face hurting an innocent again and Rhea's death... he breathed a heavy sigh, running both hands through his hair. It had been a long trial. "I should go before I stink out your house even more."

[Elyna]

Tea stewed the woman carried it back from the kitchen area and stooped to set it carefully beside the man, a peace offering as she returned to her chair. She kicked one foot then the other out of her boots and left them tangled on the wooden floors. Mug cradled in her hands, she curled her legs up on the chair and turned to watch Vakh, struggling not to flinch as he continued to insult her. Elyna wasn’t entirely sure what he meant by fire, but she didn’t think it was a good thing.

Dark eyes lowered to her drink she blew across the surface to cool it before taking a careful sip. Something about the ginger was starting to have a soothing effect. Not only did it mean she could eat, but it helped her muscles relax and she savoured the taste. Something she hadn’t made since Malcolms departure. Another pang of regret and loneliness as she looked up and fixed her gaze on the Smith. He said he’d wanted trust, and she swallowed her questions and her advice. Not that it was wanted.

“I didn’t realise that everyone with part Aukari blood…was at risk of the flame,” she admitted quietly. It made her worry even more about Malcolm. He’d never mentioned it, but then…his Father was far from a normal human man. She swallowed a larger gulp of tea and lowered the drink, still cradling it, more for comfort than warmth on the hot night. Her shirt sleeves were rolled back to the elbow and at his suggestion of leaving she scowled, tired, “don’t you dare try walking away,” she snapped before taking a larger breath, willing herself to calm down.

“I’m a Skyrider,” she lifted a brow, unimpressed, “I spent so much of my time cleaning out Volarean lofts that it could smell like a sty in here Vakh, and I wouldn’t know,” it wasn’t strictly true but she hoped it made her point clear. She didn’t care how he smelt, she was certain she didn’t smell much better. But she was used to the unenviable odours that came with the job. Malcolm too, he was a man. He was sweaty sometimes and a bit smelly, especially when he came in from the horses. Her eyes narrowed, daring Vakhanor to break and run and stood up herself.

“Take a candle to the bathroom if you want to wash up,” tried smiling at him and departed instead, padding barefoot across the boards to the bedroom. Mal hadn’t left much behind, so she didn’t have any of his clothes to lend the Smith, but she could change herself. In the depths of her sewing bag she retrieved one of Yoreths old shirts, something she’d never gotten around to mending. It was musty, but it was probably better then what the Smith was wearing. She set it down on the table for him and returned to her seat. Watching the stars blinking beyond the window for a few long moments, fingertips trailing over the rim of her mug.

You are like the fire Elyna, I could not live in this moment without you but neither can I give in to the temptation of you. They were hard words to forget, or brush aside.

“I’m sorry Vakhanor…I don’t…mean to be any more than what I am,” she looked up at him, “I’m just someone who makes a lot of mistakes. I’m human, all human,” it was a terrible joke but she hoped to try and steal a smile. The conversation was tense and she wasn’t sure it was helping him.

“…will you tell me who you were before?” The woman ventured softly, “have you always lived in Rynmere? I-” she tried piecing together what she knew of him, and came up short “I know you’re older than I am, and you didn’t always have a little one at your heels. What happened Vakh?”

[Vakhanor]

Darkness entered Vakhanor's expression as she stood, challenging him not to leave. Raising his body from the cold flooring the smith turned his back to the light, towering over the noble and mirroring the tenacity in her eyes "And what will you do if I do leave Elyna? Hurt me? My little brother? My mother? My lover?" he fumed, grabbing her by the collar "Three of them are dead and I am so god damn close to getting blown up by this immortal fucking curse placed upon my bloodline that I am struggling even now to control." It was there again, swelling inside of his heart like a burning pyre drawing him closer to self-destruction. He bore into her eyes for a trill longer before pushing back against her chest and letting her go.

His eyes followed her as she left the room, thankful for her temporary absence. Angry, he wanted to smack the wall until his knuckles started to bleed and he could finally feel the pain again. Control was slowly giving way to his primal instincts and he could feel himself on the edge again, just like he had been when they had tried to break his mind so many years ago.' Breathe my love', the soft sound of Rhea's voice ran through his head and tears streamed down his cheeks. The woman who loved and calmed him was dead. Stood over the mantelpiece Vakh studied the cute little objects scatted across it with envy, why was he denied so much?

"Sirothelle. I left. It's a long story I'm to tired to talk about," Vakhanor said in defiance, slowly beginning to crumble as he raised his voice to Elyna "Why did you bewitch me! I didn't even get to fucking bury her head... her stupid fucking beautiful head."

Leaving the shirt where Elyna left it, he moodily removed his own and tossed it into the fire as he cast aside the kindness she offered "Is life a fucking game to you Elyna? Is that what it is? You said you'd stop me drowning, THEN WHY ARE YOU FUCKING WITH MY MIND!!!" Rage took over him and he could feel his blood begin to boil, the flame ever bright within his beating heart, coaxing him toward it.

"Can you see it?" he asked her. Warmth tingled at the end of his fingertips as flame trickled across his skin and began to slowly burn his flesh into cinders "It's beautiful." Captivated by the flickering light, the smith became wide-eyed with obsessive excitement. Pain betrayed his senses and he laughed, staring Elyna in the eye as if he had found enlightenment "the world will burn."

[Elyna]

It seemed like every attempt to comfort and calm the man, only made him angrier. She’d take a moment in the bedroom to straighten the new collar and gather herself before returning and asking the gently probing questions. It wasn’t often that the Skyrider felt fear for her physical safety, but it had caught her by surprise when he’d taken hold of her shirt and pushed her away. Elyna couldn’t help if the fear, still wasn’t quite for herself, but for the new life she was desperately trying to protect. For that reason, it was tinged with anger that the man would lay hands on her, even so mildly and she made the silent decision never to tell Malcolm. Expecting that he would have been cross. Protective over their baby, even if the sentiment didn’t extend to the mother, and why would it? She was a soldier, first and foremost.

“You told me to trust you,” she fought to keep her voice low and level, still trying to calm the man, “I don’t want to hurt you Vak-” the words cut off in shock as flames became apparent on his skin. Clearly burning him like they would any other person, but coming from him as well. The woman didn’t hesitate. The bucket in the kitchen was always kept filled with well water, ready for washing, boiling or cleaning in general. It was re-filled at least three times a day to keep it fresh and the muscles in her arms were growing used to the heavy winch to haul the bucket back up again.

Vakhanor was distressed about someone’s head? Had he seen something she hadn’t? Whatever it was, the burning was getting worse and she grabbed the bucket, wasting no time in her dash back around to the main room. She steadied her balance and threw it over the man, dousing him from head to toe. As the last splash settled she ran for the door, back to the well. Bucket back on the hook it was cast down into the depths and hauled back up with protesting muscles. Elyna dragged it back to the house, ready to act again.

“Vakh I need you! Please…please stop…”

[Vakhanor]

Wrath became his ally and the moments he allowed himself to fall were the sweetest. Fire spread across his arms and burst outward from his chest until he became a pyre of burning light, this was his freedom. Laughing nefariously Vakhanor had a menacing look in his eyes, thick with his lust for the flame's destruction. He yearned for it.

Then came the pain.

In a single fell swoop of a bucket splashing a body of water over his smouldering skin, Elyna quenched the fires of Vakhanor's soul and brought him back to grief, sorrow and agony. Dropping to his knees, the naked smith bellowed a mighty roar and clenched his fist into wrecking balls that smashed onto the ground in frustration. Vakhanor knew he was an angry man, to stay here was to condemn a lovely, innocent young girl to his demons and that was a thing he didn't want to do.

Droplets of water dripped from his skin, hiding his tears. He had returned and could finally hear the sound of Elyna's voice pleading with him to stop. Lifting his eyes to meet her, the guilt of what he had done to her set in "Forgive me," he begged on all fours "My anger isn't for you, don't ever let an idiot like me touch you."

Taking deep and slow breaths Vakhanor could feel the tensity of his muscles relax as he unfurled his palms and sat back onto the ground, trying to ignore the cool pain of the thin sheet of water that clung to him. "Thank you for saving my life. Twice over, I owe you" he said between his breathing and secured the shadow of his thoughts.

"Down in the crypt, I stopped to fight your... Spell," Vakhanor resorted to the word, not entirely sure what had happened nor was he in half a mind to question it.

"I saw the head of a woman," he continued, a lump in his throat breaking the flow of his speech, "Rhea... It was the, face... of my lover, my Rhe."

[Elyna]

For a moment, the building flames over his body had been beautiful. Awful but beautiful. Still, it was with relief that she set the heavy bucket down on the floor. It sloshed as it landed, overfilling and spilling over the floor and soaking her trousers from the knee down. The fire was under control, for now. Elyna left Vakhanor alone once more, tugging the thin blanket from her bed before returning and kneeling beside him. She wrapped the cloth over his shoulders, afraid that he’d be too cold with the water still slick over his skin. But then, she found herself wondering if those of Aukari blood ever did get cold? It wasn’t something she’d asked Malcolm, but remembered him preferring the south to the north.
Gentle, Elyna shuffled to kneel infront of the man, holding the blanket it place around his shoulders as she offered a faint smile, “Vakh, you have every right to be angry with me…what you can’t do, is hold everything in. Things are shit. I mean they’re really shit sometimes and that’s where you are. At the bottom with everything coming down on top of you…but I’m here. You can’t owe me anything, because I’m your friend and friendship can only be given freely,” her dark eyes scanned his, hopeful.
The woman lent forward and pressed a kiss to his forehead before returning to her haunches. The water soaked up by her clothes and the blanket she’d offered.
“I’m sorry,” she breathed, “I’m sorry you’ve lost her…would you like me to go back? I don’t mind…I’ll bring her back and we can bury her, properly,” Elyna, more than most knew the importance of being able to mourn.
Her spell…the woman touched her hand lightly to her forehead. Yes…well…maybe another time she would explain that she wasn’t a witch.

[Vakhanor]

Tamed of his wrath Vakhanor shivered beneath the warmth of the blanket, his burnt fingertips unable to cling to the cloth without stinging. Heat was slowly returning to his body.

"No Ely," he asserted, mustering a sorrow filled smile "I've lost her, I'm not going to risk losing you too. Closing his eyes the smith indulged in the soft simplicity of her consolidation, this was what he had come to her for. Still writhing in the open air the burns on his chest denied him serene comfort, so he took what he had. And although it hurt he reached out, searching for the tranquil reassurance of her warmth as his coarse fingers brushed against her smooth hand and weaved through the spaces between her own.

Immersed in the momentary bliss of sanctuary he became void of the desire to speak and allowed the tears to roll down his cheeks, and for the first time in many a year let his fragility be on display to someone other than the beaten pillow that lie at the end of his bedroll. Long had Vakhanor had bared hatred, for longer had he hidden his sadness and he cried, for all the times that he had never been given the chance.

Almost twenty bits passed before the smith was ready to move or speak again, the shock gradually waning from his system "Water," he murmured as he lifted his body from the floor and utilised the blanket around his lower half to hide a fraction of his nakedness that he was suddenly aware of. Red and ripe with sweat underneath his skin, he needed to cool burns to stop the swelling of the flesh before it go too late, so he could then bandage them. "Sorry to ask, could ya help me with these? I can't reach my back," he requested, stumbling around the house in search of the bathroom. Luckily for him the intensity of the heat had only started to spread before Elyna had thrown the water over him and had not reached his face, working would be hard though.

[Elyna]

Tired, the skyrider had done little more than sit with the man as he cried. Occasionally reaching up to stroke fingers carefully through his hair as her own heart beat slowed to a more sedate pace. As the quiet was broken only by the Smith’s tears and sobs Elyna found that she was sat in the end, shoulder to shoulder with him, with her gaze fixed on her stockinged feet. Her thoughts drifted further and further away to the cause of his pain and back to Burhan. She was responsible for the man beside her, and his heartfelt agony. Better, she reminded herself. She had to be a better person.
Vakh stirred and she forced herself up on weary legs, “the bath is just through here,” she directed, and carried the bucket through, setting it down beside the tub, at least sat in the bath the rest of the house wouldn’t flood. “However…” She wondered if it wouldn’t be best to go down to the shore and let the sea ease the burning and work its salty healing magic. She shook her head and dismissed the plan as the extent of the burn became apparent. She scowled, eyes narrowing as she realised how much pain he was going to be in.
"Vakhanor," her voice dropped low, and dangerous and she pointed "get in the bath," she ordered and held her hand out for the blanket, exchanging it for a sponge. "You want running water, use the sponge to drop it over your chest and I'll do the same for your back," she collected a second cloth and knelt beside the tub with a sigh "you're such a...fool...Vakh..." the hand that squeezed water over his shoulders and let it run down his back was gentle though, despite her frustration.