Theme: emotion_ghost
Time spent: Legit week and a half
The Sun-Ring. The cruel taunts and jeers of the crowd to the dying masses below. The cries for mercy followed by the guttural sounds of death. The days while the sun was awake were brutal to live through in Meridian. Ulara took refuge in the silence of the night. She entered a secluded garden which held a fallen Sawtooth from the ring at it's center. Her Kestrel guards were kind enough to leave her with all she needed to scrap and salvage it- her spear, a heap of rags, and a bucket of clean water.
She bowed low, mumbling pleasantries to her wardens as they left her to her task. Straightening herself, she ran a hand over her new fancy silks and ribbons to smooth out the crinkles. Steely gray eyes returned to the Sawtooth and she braced herself for the task ahead.
“I am truly a prized bird in a gilded cage.” she muttered miserably. Her voice was low and rough. The lights of the city sprawling below her enclosed garden twinkled, mirroring the stars above. A small part of her wished to lean against the low stone wall and observe all that was before her. Yet the task at hand beckoned to her.
Ulara knelt before the large fallen beast, it's frame curled around her diminutive form. The scent of blood assaulted her senses as she inhaled the cold night air. The water felt chilly as if the sky leaned down and kissed it. She brought the wet rag down on the beast, wiping off the blood and gore from it's head. 'Forgive me' she whispered silently to herself. The onslaught of guilt hit her then. This beast was one of the ones she brought to the ring. How many people had it killed?
'Survive. Prevail...but at what cost?'
Her eyes stung, shoulders sagged and shudder. Her breath hitched in her throat and she sputtered. A song came to her then. A song from her childhood back when she had a Werak. Her shaman would sing it to the dead whether they were man or machine. Now, in the glow of the braziers and the faint moonlight above, she too sang this song. A soft prayer that escaped her lips as she continued her work cleansing the Sawtooth and slowly removing it's protective plating. Her mournful voice was a low rasp on the breeze like the rattle of dried branches and leaves on a tree. It was something easy to miss for those who weren't listening close enough.
A Carja noble passing in the night happened to catch the sound of strained yet haunting melody. Though he couldn't catch the words, his heart ached for a reason he couldn't understand. Curious, Fashav followed the sound to it's source. He paused outside the archway of lonely looking garden. There he found a Banuk woman crumpled before a looming Sawtooth. Stained hands, running red with blood the of the fallen, worked quickly to remove eyes of the beast. The sight of her bloodied hands gave her pause. Her voice cracked, an off note had slipped from her quivering lips. Silence now filled the garden between them.
She had managed to wrench the eyes out just as her song ended. Ulara held it to her chest as she curled into herself. A shudder ran through her body and Fashav realized that he missed his moment to approached. Instead, he tried a silent retreat.
The wind picked up, moonlight slipping behind the cover a thick, inky black clouds as the distant patters of rain echoed. The light of the braziers around them shifted and flickered, dancing across their bodies. Her twin braids that brushed against the ground, swayed in the breeze. Long, thin hair like fine silk was brushed out of her eyes and pinned behind her ears. The watered down blood on her hands smeared against her cheeks. Fashav- uncertain of how to respond- halted in his tracks. A small sense of responsibility welled in him. It was his people who were responsible for the atrocities of the Red Raids. It was his tribe to bare the blame for this woman's pain. In a twist fate, his hesitation also caused his downfall as he stepped on one of the many leaves that littered the area. He glanced down in panic and brushed the dead foliage away with pointed boots. When Fashav's gaze returned, he found that the Banuk woman was nowhere to be found.
He stood flabbergasted, eyes scanning the garden. He had only looked away for a moment. “Hello,” he called out gently, “I didn't mean to scare you.” He raised his hands up in a form of surrender. “I mean you no harm. I simply wanted to ask you a few questions.”
A shift in the shadows near the furthest corner of the garden caught his attention. Hiding among the bushes, pressed up against the stonewall was the Banuk girl. Her footsteps were light. He noted the way she shifted her weight carefully was like that of a beast in mid-hunt.
She motioned at him from top to bottom. Anger clouding her judgment, emboldening her choices. 'A Carja nobleman in all his silks and finery.' She rolled her eyes and shook her head in disgust. Ulara looked over the broad shouldered man whom towered over her. Sun-kissed skin wrapped in fine silks of red, gold, and purple sleeves with ribbons caught in the breeze like feathers on a bird. The word handsome came to mind as she squinted as his face, catching small details in the dim light.
'What do you want with me?' Ulara shot him a glare.
With a tilt of his head, Fashav gave her a quizzical look. He rubbed the back of his neck and gave a little shrug. “Look. I am going to have to be honest, I have no idea what any of that meant.” He seemed genuinely puzzled. He tapped a finger on his throat. “Can you not speak?” He was beginning to doubt that he heard any singing to begin with. Perhaps a little less wine before his next walk?
Ulara felt her face to the tips of her ears heat up. She tugged her twin braids over her shoulder, fingering the puffy ends. “I can.” she spoke softly, her voice sounding strained. “I forget at times.” Straightening up, Ulara stepped out of the bushes. “What does his lordship want with me?”
He noted the emphasis on lordship. A grim reminder that he is the bad guy in this situation. Fashav put his hands up again. “Unyielding Fashav. You can call me just Fashav though. As I said before, I simply wanted to talk.”
She stopped in her tracks, running her hands over her braids. Ulara weighed her options. If he really was a nobleman, he could easily have her killed for her defiance. Should she risk her life talking further with this man? Or should she retreat and leave her work for another day. If she gets another day... In the end, she sighed in defeat.
“Ulara,” she replied, “My name is Ulara. I am Banuk-” She paused and shifted uncomfortably. Her eyes darted away from him and to the sky as the first droplets of rain fell on them. “Shaman.” In the back of her mind, she spoke the truth. 'Exile.' She pulled her braids taut. “What were you questions, Unyielding Fashav?”
The slow drops of rain turned into a light mist. Fashav retreated to an alcove near the entrance of the garden. He motioned for her to follow before brushing off the rain dew that collected on his skin. “Let us come out of the rain first.” He settled on a cool stone bench and pat the empty space beside him. “I promise I don't bite.”
Ulara glanced back at her work, now being cleansed by cold rainwater beating down on it. She sighed heavily and joined the Carja in the shade of the alcove. A small shiver ran through her body as the wind caught her damp skin. Once settled, Ulara found herself warm. Between the heat radiating off his body and the brazier beside her, she managed to combat the encroaching cold. Before she could let go of her tensions though, she spotted the red of blood covering her hands. She buried her hands in the collection of excess fabrics in her lap and begun to scrub viciously in hopes of ridding herself of the reminders of her guilt. “You had questions, Unyielding Fashav,” she muttered. “What were they?”
His eyes lingered on her desperate scrubbing. “I was wondering about that song you were singing.” Fashav felt a pang in his chest. He stood and undid one of the many sashes wrapped on his body. He shoved it out into the heavy rain. “I have never heard such a sad song before.”
She could feel the heat return to her ear tips. “Ah. You heard that.” She clasped her hands together and begun to tilt her head side to side in thought. “It's an old song from the Werak that raised me.” The edges of her lips twitches upward to a somewhat melancholic smile. The Banuk woman could feel the bite of the cold on her face contrasting the warm hands of her grandmother, the shaman, as she smiled down at Ulara. The memories of a time long past flowed back to her like water to the sea. “the shaman sang it before salvaging a machine or when one of our own pass. She believed it would soothe the spirits as they ascended.”
Fashav nodded and returned to her side with a damp cloth. He held out a hand for her as he took his seat. “May I?” he offered, gesturing to her hands. A part of him wanted to ask more on the Banuk's culture and religion, but decided he will table it for now. He was sure he would find her again and assail her with more questions then. He smiled softly at her instead.
The kindness had taken her by surprise. She placed her hand in his and was surprised by how gentle he was. It's been awhile since she had a touch of kindness. A long time in fact. The last she can recall was before her family died. She was, but a child then. Her hands melted in the warmth she found in his. She felt her heart quicken and flush of heat running through her system. Ulara cleared her throat, seeking distractions from her emotions. “Was that all you questions?” Her eyes which had been drawn to him, darted away. Instead, she chose to watch the gentle fall of rain from the eaves.
“No,” he replied. Fashav took a deep breath before asking his next question. He peeked up at her through his lashes attempting to gauge her emotions. “And the Sawtooth?” He felt her stiffen in his hands, her body tensing from the grim reminder.
“I was salvaging it...as was my right.”
A calloused thumb brushed against the crux of her thumb and pointer. Her heart nearly jumped out of her chest. It eased her in a way she couldn't fully understand though. “I hunt and bring down whatever the Kestrels order me to.” Ulara paused to give herself a moment to steady herself. Conflicting emotions ran wild through her body, slowly overloading her. She breath deep the scent of rain and perfumed oils. The feeling of rough hands through soft silk encasing her minuscule hands. “If and when my catch dies in the Sun-Ring, it is brought here for me to salvage.”
Fashav nodded in response, running the silk over her individual fingertips. “What do you use the parts for,” he asked. “If you don't mind me asking that is.”
“To upgrade my spear.” She nodded in the direction of the Sawtooth. Near the now abandoned bucket and rag was a spear whose center glowed a faint blue. Fashav squinted at it, catching bits and pieces of wiring and machine parts worked into the wood. She could see the curiosity on his face. “It allows me to send a shockwave that stuns the machines. I call it Stormcatcher. It is why I became rather valuable to the Kestrels. Also why I have some special privileges.” A sense of pride ran over her thinking of her creation. Fashav chuckled in response.
He released her hands, giving them a gentle pat. “There. The blood is gone.” He watched as she drew her hands back towards her, wringing them as she did. He brought the cloth up to her face and wiped away the smear of blood on her cheeks. This man yet again took her by surprise. “Are you here every night?” The rain begun to let up and small slivers of moonlight now shifted through the garden.
“Mm, no.” She shook her head, smiling faintly. “Only nights when a machine I bring in is defeated.” Ulara leaned in closer. “If you wish to meet me again, I am on the training grounds most days. I would be happy to answer any more of your questions. It would have to be brief though.”
Fashav stood and bowed his head. “The rain is beginning to let up. I best let you return to your work.” He took her hand into his and brushed a fingertip over the top of her hand. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Ulara.” The Carja nobleman bowed one last time at her before taking her leave.
“And you, Unyielding Fashav.” she whispered as he left, leaving her secluded garden feeling more empty than ever.
Comments: A 2k fluffy Horizon fanfic that I had been dying to write. This is my second draft. xP emotion_ghost
