A Return to Roots -- Rakhash

[Ashari]

Samheen 21 - Early Morning Tide

"Rakhash? Can we go home now?" Lianelle asked as she looked at him. She looked tired, very tired. "Your arm looks... bad." The blood had soaked through the make-shift tourniquet that the dark adhiel had provided him with from the torn fabric from his own clothes. She still held onto his arm, from prior to the arrival of the Rafao. She was thankful that the leader had shown up when he did, otherwise she might've actually had to fight to keep Rakhash at her side. "I'm sure Yabal is worried about us."

The princess' clothes were stained with blood from the young boy she had been protecting. Dirt and sand covered and clumped where the red liquid was. Her hair was frayed and pulled from the long braid she had tied it in earlier. Many locks had escaped during the heat and excitement of the fighting. She tugged gently on his arm and lead him forward down the road back toward Anurith's Golden Ram.

It didn't take long to get back to the tavern where a candle was burning in the window. Yabal was at the bar milking a glass of brandy as the young couple entered. "You're both alright!" He smiled and it seemed as if the pressure that had been pushing down on his shoulders lifted as he righted himself and came around the side of the bar. Almost as soon as it happened though, he returned to his more somber and stern appearance and looked at Rakhash.

"Where's my carpet?" He arched a brow at the young man. "You better not have lost it, that's a treasure it is. Plus, Tedrin'll have my head if I don't get it back to him eventually." Yabal sighed. "No worry." He shook his head. "It can wait until morning. Come sit and have a drink." The barkeep moved over to his spot and poured them each a strong drink.

"Yabal?" Lianelle queried his name forward. "Could I take a bottle of that upstairs, please. I'm going to have to clean out his wound and it'll be good to clean it out."

He nodded. "Sure thing, princess." He slid the bottle over to her. "But before you two head off, what happened? -- The Rafao and everything, the riot... what happened?" The barman found himself repeating his own words, and so he quietted and waited a response.

[Guest]

Rakhash nodded as Lianelle spoke, dropping the blade in his hand and listening to it as it clanged against the dusty ground. The weariness he observed in Lianelle only served to impress upon him the severity of what had occurred, and the amount of energy he himself had expended in the effort to save their land from tyranny. The wound on his arm seemed to throb and ache, vying for the attention it was bereft of during the conflict itself. The young man closed his eyes, and took in the sounds of the commotion about him, before taking in a deep breath and pushing back the turmoil he felt inside to deal with the here and now. No doubt, he would have regrets and considerations of what had just occurred in the time to come, but for now, the peace that seemed to reverberate from the commotion about them was enough to allay his unsettled emotions.

As the beautiful princess tugged him gently along with her down the streets towards the inn, he walked along fairly complacently, content in the safety he felt in the absence of conflict and enemies. Since he had met the woman, there had always been some fear in the environment about them, some caution against a hidden threat that could have been around any corner. Now, it seemed altogether a more relaxing experience, excluding of course, the weariness and injury.

They entered the Inn of the Golden Ram, and Rakhash instantly felt a sense of relief. The loss of blood, combined with how exhausted he really was, left Rakhash feeling a little bit sick. Smiling as Yabal stood, he opened his mouth to reply, before the man silenced him by pushing the issue of the carpet into the next day. Another reprieve, it seemed. As the barkeep motioned for them to have a seat, the young man almost declined before Lianelle expressed the need to clean his wound. He was tired, and he could tell the Lianelle was tired, and he was in no mood to drink at the moment.

“The Rafao is safe, as far as I know. The riot was bloody, and the army came, but in the end Nadia managed to break the spell that held our leader, and cast out the traitor,” he smiled at the imposition of justice on such an unjust situation. “There will be mourning to do, but I’m sure the gods will favour the dead for fighting so bravely for what was right.” He shrugged absently. “If you want a deeper account of events, I’d be happy to give it to you tommorow, right now I’d kind of like to rest, if that’s alright.” He smiled again, and turned the woman he loved. “I’m sure the princess would too.”

[Ashari]

Lianelle nodded demuredly at Rakhash's assumption she was in need of some rest. "Tomorrow is to be a holiday." She added, through the thick veil of exhaustion. "And there will be a public execution of the traitor. I'm afraid I've already forgotten his name, but he is a bodyguard of the Rafao. It was quite the traitorous game he played, but it seems he has failed. We can be thankful of that, and that the army has been stopped as well." She smiled.

No matter how weary she felt because of it, they had prevented the slaughter of her people, and that was remarkable for such a small group of people. Infact, as she thought about it, if it had been the will of the Rafao, rather than of a murderous mindcrafter, he would've been stopped by a mere four people. That was, until they gathered the other slaves, but it was just the handful of them that planned the event and made sure it happened. It gave her pause, and made her reconsider whether she really feared the leader of the Amon Subhayan.

Yabal finished his strong beverage and pulled in a breath through his teeth to cool the burning sensation in his throat and stomach. It did little to quell the feeling, but he was glad to have heard the news directly from the camel's mouth rather than through a questionable third party. "Makes perfect sense. Make sure to take care of your wounds." He moved around the bar toward the window where the candle was lit. "Get on. I'll see you in the morning. There will be work to do." The barkeep lifted his hand to place it on the opposite side of the candle to blow against. He waited until the couple was moving toward the stairs before he blew it out, and the darkness fell all around them.

Lianelle quickly ascended the spiral staircase, her feet pounding louder than usual thanks to her being too tired to worry about being quiet. She had grabbed the bottle of hard liquor and it made a loud clink against the railing when she accidentally knocked it against it. "Stupid..." The princess mumbled under her breath, but was almost immediately quiet again as they headed to their room. "It's nice to be back, isn't it?" She almost asked if it was nice to be back home, but she hadn't added that on, even though she considered Anurith's home.

Pushing the door open the girl stepped inside and set the bottle down on their small dining table. She could manuever through the room easily in the pitch dark like one can once they become familiar with an environment. Finding her way to a few candles she grabbed the tinder box and lit a few of them before returning to the table and lighting a few there as well. "Alright. Sit down. Let me see your arm in the light. Take off that fabric, too."

She reached over to their bookcase and pulled a bag from it. It was small and she spilled it's contents onto the table. There was the herbs she had gotten when they went to the gnome's together, some bandaging material, and a few other jars that he didn't recognize as well as some other herbs. "This is going to hurt. You want to take a sip of the alcohol first?" She uncorked the bottle, it made a slight pop sound.

[Guest]

Rakhash slowly slipped into a world of his own as Lianelle better defined the situation for Yabal. He knew what was being said, he understood the ramifications and the results, and at the moment, he found it hard to concentrate on anything in general. The throbbing pain in his arm, coupled with the generally sick feeling he felt deep within his gut, were enough to draw his attention away from the events around him, and to the act of maintaining a relatively calm composure. The young man felt an urgent need to continue on, surely, but through pride and a desire not to place pressure on the princess, he kept silent, awaiting sounds that would demand his attention once more.

As the conversation finished, Rakhash murmured a distracted “Good night,” to the barkeep, and began to follow after Lianelle. She managed less grace then she usually did, but he wasn’t about to fault her for that as he stumbled up in a manner that was still comparatively loud. Reaching their room, he breathed a sigh of relief and exhaustion, and absently worked his arm back and forth, testing the waters for how much pain the upcoming treatment would cause him. As the beautiful woman before him spoke, the “home” she refused to utter seemed almost audible to Rakhash. It was a natural extension of the question, though he understood the possible lack of desire on her part to associate such a word with such a place. “Yes,” he said, managing a small smile, “It’s definitely good to be back.”

At her softly spoken command, Rakhash sat down in one of the chairs, sighing yet again at the pain in his arm and the slight nausea that only served to further inflict discomfort. He drew a hand to the soggy fabric covering the wound, it’s blood-soaked threads no longer much of a relief, and slipped the fabric off to place it on the table. He sucked in air sharply as his fingers rubbed against the open wound, and clenched his fist reflexively. He stretched out his arm, and shook his head slowly. “I think I can handle it,” he said softly, already preparing himself for the paint he alcohol would cause him.

Grinning sardonically, he gazed between the wound and Lianelle, waiting for her to begin the treatment.

[Ashari]

Lianelle's button nose wrinkled as the fabric was pulled from Rakhash's wound. The blood had begun to clot around the makeshift bandage and as he removed it he destroyed the naturally forming scab. Each cell pulled apart and he could feel the tearing of his lifesblood.

Though not squeemish, the princess was unused to blood, especially the blood of someone she loved. She had been protected from much her entire life, but that night she had seen things that seasoned warriors could barely stomach, and she thought she handled it all fairly well. However, it would be difficult to tell for sure until the shock wore off. Lianelle licked her lips quickly and sucked on her full bottom lip, pressing it between her tongue and the back of her top teeth.

"Alright." She let out a burst of a sigh and moved the bottle over his arm, tipping it slowly until the first few drops fell from the mouth. The amber liquid shot downward and then seemed to slow down once directly over his wound, only for them to splash next to it, the slightest hinting of a sensation tormented the edges of his wound. Lianelle adjusted and moved it over a finger's width and then the golden alcohol spilled outward and headed for the opening in his flesh.

Fire seared over the cut. If what he had been experiencing before was pain, then this would indeed be much worse. It flowed beyond the wound itself and the alcohol seemed to swim through his veins burning everything it found. The heat spread up to his elbow and down to his wrist threatening to force him to throw up. "Are you feeling ok, Rak?" Lianelle asked hesitantly as she picked up the sewing needle and thin twine to thread the needle.

She swallowed, this was going to be hard, not only because of the fact that she was going to have to hurt Rakhash, but also because it was just more diffucult to sew flesh. "So, I was thinking of embroidery... maybe a daisy?" She seemed completely serious as she put her hand on his arm and it felt freezing comparatively. The needle pressed against his flesh, but she didn't push it in. Her dark eyes lifted and were swept around with a thick layer of lashes. A smile finally cracked as she looked at him but then the princess turned her attention to the task at hand.

"Here goes nothing. Try not to move, I'll be as quick as I can." Once again she did a deep hot swallow and then gave the sharp tool a final push, passing it through the skin in a smooth motion. There was a tug as the knot caught on the end and then she began moving with more speed, pulling his skin together once again as it had been before the intrusion of the blade.

After a few burns, nearly half a mark, Lianelle straightened and then cut the string with a small knife. "I think that's as good as it's going to get. It'll probably scar." She frowned. The stitchery was uniform all but in the center where the spacing was a bit tighter, not incredibly noticable, but enough so that Lia would see it. "How do you feel?"

[Guest]

Rakhash’s stomach lurched with each movement his wound was forced to tolerate. As the golden liquid slid down his arm from the bottle Lianelle, and streamed down only the wounds edges, Rakhash gritted his teeth and clenched his fists. As the next torrent rushed directly into the wound, the young sucked in air violently through his teeth, and let it out in a harsh grunt. A few tears came unbidden from his eyes, pooling in the corners and then streaming out slightly as he blinked. He fought more tears that wanted to come, forced to do so by some urgent need within to avoid looking weak, and tried to take the pain in his arm as silently as possible. It seemed to him that it might have made him feel worse to look weak in front of the princess right then, than the pain in his arm did at that very moment.

As Lianelle picked up the needle, and threaded the twine through the eye, Rakhash closed his eyes, and took slow, deep breaths. Opening and closing his fist, he worked the muscles of his arm, testing the extent of the pain newly aggravated in the cut. He grimaced, slightly, still fighting back tears and suppressing the nauseous feeling in his gut. “I’m feeling fine, Lianelle,” he said, attempting to project confidence in his voice. The slight quiver in his voice highlighted the façade, however. He laughed as she brought up the possibility of embroidering, perhaps in a slightly more intense manner than the joke truly warranted. “If it will make you happy, then of course,” he replied, forcing himself to sound somewhat light-hearted in the comment.

The weariness that had captivated him as he had walked towards the inn was gone now, replaced by a keen sense of awareness and focus on the injury. The young man looked up at Lianelle as she smiled at him, returning her smile with a genuine one of his own. Even in pain, as in battle, he could take some solace in the presence of the woman he loved, and strength from her radiant smile. As she pushed the needle through, and began to sew, he continued to watch her in concentration. Better to focus on something great and beautiful, than on the actual injury.

The time passed slowly, even trying to concentrate on something else than the process of stitching. By the time it was done, he breathed a sigh of relief, and smiled. “Scar or not, at least it will heal better. I feel better already, and alright in general, all things considered.” He slowly moved his arm around gingerly, looking at the fruits of Lianelle’s labour. “Thank you, Lianelle, very much.” He sat back in the chair, relaxing slightly. “How are you feeling?”

[Ashari]

"Oh yes, it would make me very happy to leave you with an embroidered rose." She winked.

Lianelle bit her bottom lip as she worked over the wound. It was a good thing she had taken to certain of the lady-like duties her father had insisted on, for the stitching was well done. The speed with which she completed the task made it obvious that she was skilled. Infact, the princess rather enjoyed sewing, though she prefered silk over skin.

"Atleast you have a heroic tale to tell, saving a princess during a riot against the Rafao..." She smiled. "Better than most scars that come from a bar fight." Lianelle watched as he flexed his fingers and pulled the muslces tight. When he moved his hand foward it tugged at the stitchery. Once he reached the ninety-degree angle it was the most painful point. "Be careful, don't tear a stitch." The girl reached her hand out and took his in her own, both to still him and to just hold his hand.

"You're more than welcome," she replied. "Me? Oh, I'm fine." There was a small pause, and then she added: "Well, all things considered, of course." Her words echoed his own.

"I need to get back to Nashreen, though. I have this horrible feeling in my stomach like very bad things are happening." She looked tired. There were dark circles under her eyes and it looked like there was a bruise forming at her temple. "They are supposed to be my people. I can't just abandon them." She sighed, these were all things she had said before, and yet she couldn't help repeating herself.

"Rak... I'm really glad you are alright." Her eyes flicked up and tried to meet his.

[Guest]

“A heroic tale,” Rakhash mused, letting out a small chuckle, “Well, at least you realize why I do these things.” The young man grinned mischievously. “After all, why else would I be helping you, if not for the fantastic stories?” He felt Lianelle’s hand grip his own, and his grin slid into a smile of genuine affection. He drew comfort from her touch, and squeezed her hand gently in return. “I’ll try not to harm your embroidery.”

Rakhash let out a sigh as Lianelle mentioned a desire to return to her real home quickly. Since he had met her there had been so little refuge from the barrage of events and circumstances that had tugged and pulled him in different directions, he almost felt sick. He had left his home to find his own way, but had become tangled in plots that were not of his design. One path was freed, one goal achieved, and another variable came into play. It seemed endless, a prison built from the desires of others.

But at the same time, Rakhash had a purpose like he hadn’t known before. So many things had occurred in such a short period of time, he was almost at a loss for words to describe it. As much as he felt right in blaming things beyond his control for what he had done and was about to do, he realized his own desire held him here as much as anything. Had he been given a choice, to go back and avoid helping the girl he had found crying on the street alone, he would not have taken that choice if all of Amun Rah were lain at his feet for it. Fate had opened this course to him, and nudged him to it, but he had traveled it, and now he was devoted to it.

Well, perhaps not devoted so much the path itself, as the woman around which it twisted. Even just looking at Lianelle, the aggravation he felt at having to rush off almost as soon as he had completed a task of epic proportions subsided. The expression of need she uttered was all the justification he required to head forward.

“I wouldn’t expect you to abandon anyone, Lianelle, and I don’t think anyone who knew you would either,” he replied softly. Looking at the princess, the young man felt a pang of concern. She was clearly exhausted, but even that couldn’t stop her from worrying. “We’ll go as soon as we can, but you’re not fit to travel right now. First thing tomorrow we can take Yabal’s carpet and go, but I think maybe you should get some rest.” He smiled in a comforting manner, hoping she’d stop worrying for at least the night.

Rakhash met Lianelle’s gaze as she sought his. “I’m glad I’m alright too.” He grinned sheepishly, then shrugged. “I’m even gladder that you’re not harmed too much, though.”

[Ashari]

"You're the only person who really knows me, Rak." Lianelle sighed. "I mean, I'm going to go back there and have to go back to that life." She looked down at the table, her hand still entwined with his. "Promise you won't let me forget this. All of this, and everything we've done."

The princess's life before Abu`Sahir had been borish and filled with dresses and attempts at escape from learning the proper way to sit or greet her newest suitor. "It's funny, but I don't want to go, but I know I have to. I'd rather stay here and just be with you. I want to be selfish." Her dark eyes looked back up and deep with her she looked hurt by her own yearning to not return to Nashreen. "Maybe we could wait a day or two, just stay here. Would that be wrong?"

She bit her lip in apprehension to his response. Why did she need him to assuage her fears over leaving her people? And really, how would he know? Lianelle had been trained her entire life, groomed for the position she would inherit, but Rakhash wasn't. Somehow, though, that made him more real. His response would be of what he knew, not what he had been told. "My papa is going to want me to marry when I get back. He's going to want me to marry one of the sons of the chief's of the nine."

"That's why I don't want to go back. I can't bear the thought of.. not.. you.. of not being with you. Before, when I was just putting it off, it was out of stubborness. I mean, sure, I had thoughts I'd get rescued and I'd meet some amazing man, but I didn't think that would really happen." She blushed a bit, but hid behind her long lashes. "But now I can't even think of being with anyone other than you."

"How am I supposed to go back to that?"

[Guest]

Rakhash smiled warmly. “You won’t forget it, Lianelle, and you don’t need me to help you avoid doing it, either,” he replied. He watched her closely as she turned her eyes to the table, something that reminded him so much of what he felt like doing so often around her. It seemed so strange, removing himself from the situation, for someone so obviously above him in status and value to claim that he was the only one who knew her, to talk to him in such a close manner. He did know her, though, and knowing the person she was inside added validity to the relationship they found themselves entwined in.

The smile slowly slid off his face as Lianelle continued to speak. “I don’t think you’d really rather be here, hiding from your duties and responsibilities, when so much danger faces your people. You might feel like it, but if you tried to pull it off, do you really think you’d be happy?” Rakhash answered softly, before shaking his head slightly. “As much as I want to, I think we should go and save them from themselves as soon as its viable. Your people need you.” Maybe even as much as I need you…

The young princess brought up the subject of her father’s desires, and Rakhash’s comforting demeanor fell apart. Suddenly, his arm didn’t hurt anymore, the pain itself being drowned out by the feeling of despair welling up within him rapidly. He turned to look at the table stoically, refusing to let his emotion towards the subject show. “I…” he began, but couldn’t find the words to say. The hand that wasn’t holding Lianelle’s clenched into a fist, a lone manifestation of the frustration he felt. “From the day I met you, I knew you were amazing, Lianelle. A princess or not, someone like you deserves everything any man could give her. I don’t have riches to offer you, or glory, and certainly not the blood of kings.” He shook his head, unable to bear looking at Lianelle.

“I want, so much, to make you a queen of all the things that I can offer you, of whatever home I can fashion, of whatever family I can raise, but you deserve to be a queen of so much more. I think maybe the gods willed it to be so, and everybody around you realizes it.” He clenched his jaw, pressing back the desire to cry, or scream, or let something of his emotion out. “You can go back there because anybody who gets to know you will fall in love with you, Lianelle. Someone will find you who will be everything you want, and deserve, and eventually you’ll see what everyone who knows who you are, and who I am, sees. You deserve everything good that comes your way, and so much more than a son of a labourer can offer you.”

He paused for a moment, taking a deep breath, and swallowing hard. Rakhash shook his head. “This all sounds so damn logical, but I don’t want it to be like that,” he said, his voice more heated now. “I want to be selfish. I want you. I need you. I feel so much better about who I am around you, I feel like I can do anything, be anything, and that includes a man that could make you happy, even if I couldn’t give you a kingdom. I’m just so damn sorry I’m not a king, Lianelle, a prince, a chief, the Rafao, something, because regardless of what title I hold, I love you.” He closed his eyes, and removed his hand from Lianelle’s. “I’m so sorry. I couldn’t imagine another woman I’d rather be with than you, and I don’t know how I’m going to go on once your people take you back.”

[Ashari]

Lianelle's heart beat so fast in her chest it would've been nearly impossible to tell it from the flapping of a hummingbird's wing. She had waited her entire life to find someone who would love her for who she was who she in turn could love back. Here he was. He was sitting here before her with emotion coursing through his veins like none of the peacocks she had ever met would even be able to withstand else they'd go mad. Rakhash had endured so much in only the time she had known him, and he had come out above it all as only a better man, and all she could do was see that continue.

When the princess looked into his eyes, when he allowed it, when enough of the extreme passion had ebbed, she could see therein her future. Their life together. He spoke of her being a queen of his household, of his family. She wanted that more than words.

Sliding off of the chair, Lianelle moved toward Rak the pace that was between them on her knees. She looked up at him and put their entwined hands on his leg and then sat back on her heels and placed her other hand on her lap. "You're right, I could go back, I could let one of them fall in love with me. And he would love me with everything he could, but it would be a ghost of the love I feel for you, and you of me. I would be haunted by it." Her eyes flicked between his. "They would never really know me the way you do. No one ever will."

She let him remove his hand, albeit it reluctantly. "Just because I go back to my people doesn't mean I have to leave you." There was an uncertainty in her tone. "No, I know it. I will be with you, forever. Anasis willed it to be so." Her eyes sparkled with the hinting of tears and looked up to his closed lids. She swallowed and then straightened upwards, pushing off of her shins. Lianelle rested her elbows on Rak's knees, her arms following the length of his thighs to leave her soft hands at his hips.

"I'm in love with the son of a labourer, and all I need is what he can give me, because all I need is his heart, if he's willing." Her heart had never slowed, and if anything, now it seemed faster, and louder, as it thudded in her ears creating a cacaphony she wasn't sure that Rakhash's response could break through. Silence can be like that, and now, much beyond Gravetide, there were no stirrings anywhere in the building, and even fewer past the heavy walls.

[Guest]

Rakhash gazed down at Lianelle as she spoke, his heart still pounding wildly with unabated emotion as if in answer to hers. The young man had never expected to fall in love with a princess, or with a person as amazing as Lianelle was in every respect, but now that he had, even the thought of losing her was painful. The way she faltered when she said that her going home didn’t mean she had to leave him left him feeling more desperate than before, his heart beating with added vigour. As she reiterated the point, however, he felt somewhat comforted.

The intricacies of the situation left Rakhash angry and feeling as though once again forces beyond his control were pulling the strings. He refused to accept that. He could be twisted and pulled by monarchs and sorcerers, but he would not let any force take Lianelle from him, not even her father, a man of higher station and more power than perhaps he could realistically hope to amass. When it came to Lia, nothing needed justification, and he felt no shame at the selfishness of it. Whether or not her father or her people approved, he was going to be with her.

The young warrior offered her a small smile, an attempt to regain his composure and hide the frustration that still lingered about the obstacles that might lay in their path. He felt a conviction not unlike he had felt before, and his own resolve in addition to Lianelle’s forced some of the negative emotions to subside. Running a hand through his short hair, he let out a small sigh. “If you believe we’re meant to be together, than far be it from me to disagree with you,” he said softly.

As she spoke again, professing her love, Rakhash simply stared at her intently for a moment in silence. Her hands on his hips left him feeling glaringly aware of her physical presence. Even now, Lianelle was so beautiful he still felt awe when he gazed at her. After a moment in silence, he grasped one of her hand in his, and brought it up to kiss it softly. “I’m in love with a princess, and whether she wants it or not she already rules my heart. I’ll do my best to be worthy of hers, always.” He stood up, still holding her hand, and grabbing her other arm to pull her up gently with him.

Wrapping his arms around her waist, he smiled broadly. “So long as what I can offer is enough, princess, its yours, and I’ll never let anyone get between us. Thank you for letting me know you like no one else ever could, for letting me love you.” He stared into her eyes, the depth of which left him enthralled in the search for what lay within them for a moment. Rakhash let out a small chuckle. “I suppose you’re pretty tired though, huh? I’m sorry I’ve kept you awake so long into the night,” he said.

[Ashari]

Lianelle felt perfectly comfortable with Rakhash as they sat together and he kissed her hand so softly. She smiled as he pulled her up with him as he stood. His hands winding around her small body, and finding her back brought a surge of warmth through her from her very core, but had nothing to do with the temperature of the room.

The scents of their bodies mingled, there was still the slightest undertone of her lavendar perfume from the bath she had taken. Lianelle laced her fingers behind his neck and looked up at him. They were both stained with blood, and the coppery smell tugged beneath everything, though on the very outside of their world.

"What you offer me is more than I ever expected, more than I could ask for," she replied and rocked up onto her tip-toes to give Rakhash a kiss. Lia grinned as he mentioned the time. "Yes, it is pretty late. Would be a good idea to get some sleep." She nodded. "I need to get out of these clothes." She slid back down onto her flat feet. "I can't sleep covered in... dirty." The princess changed her mind of where she wanted that conversation going.

Reluctantly the girl pulled from his grasp and went to the small trunk in their room. One of the days he had been working she had seen to filling it with both their clothes. Well, his clothes, and then the clothes she had borrowed from the women of Anurith's. "This will do." She pulled out something light blue and shrugged. "It's clean atleast." Turning she headed for the door. "I'll be back quick."

It didn't take her long to change, but before she came in she knocked, just to make sure that Rak was dressed as well before entering. "I'm ready for bed." She was wearing loosefitting blue pants that cut off just a but below her knees leaving her tanned legs exposed, and a loose top which hung to her elbows. It buttoned up the front with shiny black buttons. Lia moved steadily over to the bed, but it was obvious she was tired, she was grace personified, but there is only so much one person can see before it starts getting harder. Plopping down on the bed she reached her hand out for him.

[Guest]

Rakhash reveled in the moment that Lianelle’s lips touched his, that perfect moment where nothing in the world seemed wrong and everything and anything good seemed to within his reach. As with everything great, however, her kiss was bittersweet in that it had to end, a fact he never remembered until she stepped away and thrust him back into the gloom of the world outside of her embrace. When she smiled at him he smiled back, reluctant to let her go, to put more distance between himself and edge of true utopia. When she unlaced her fingers, though, he forced himself to the unuttered instructions inherent in the act.

The young man kept his eyes on the princess as she as she gathered clothes to change into. Sighing as she left the room to change, he began to again feel worry over how the events of the next few days would turn out. He was going somewhere where he could expect to find no approval, no confirmation that he was any more worthy of being loved by a princess than logic made him feel he was. He was about to face an opponent in the other people Lianelle loved, an obstacle he couldn’t just fight or intimidate. Oh, and there was a civil war taking place, or about to, that he had to try and help stop.

It was of course worth it. Everything he was doing was worth it if he go to be with Lianelle.

He changed quickly into a fresh set of clothes comfortable enough to sleep in and yawned, sitting down on the bed and gazing at the wall in thought. “Come in,” he said, when Lianelle knocked on the door. He was amazed by how naturally graceful she was, even this tired. Next to her, he must have seemed like a clumsy, lumbering ox. “Wow. I didn’t think anyone could look as beautiful as you just getting ready for bed,” he said with a grin. When she reached out for his hand, he grasped it in his own. “Tomorrow will be a better day,” he said, before letting out another sigh simply of exhaustion.

[Ashari]

"We're going to be alright, Rak." She held onto his hand and nodded. "We just have to remember to breathe. This has nothing to do with them, we are worth keeping. I believe." A yawn pulled at her and she couldn't help allowing it. Lianelle smiled and her eyes watered a bit from it, creating a glassy sheen.

"Let's sleep." And with that, she scooted down and grabbed the blanket, ready to push away the desert night and be with the man she loved, comforted by his presence.

<center>..-^-..-^-..--^--..</center>

The next morning Yabal came up to their room and knocked, hard, on the door before opening it. Both Lianelle and Rakhash were still in bed. "You need to leave now if you plan on leaving at all. The Rafao has sent out his guards to find both of you. Here." He tossed the carpet onto the floor, which last either of them knew, had been left at the Simbahan. "Hurry. Gather your things." The barkeep stood there waiting for them to move.

Lianelle was fuzzy from sleep, and had a hard time catching on to exactly what was happening, but she still crawled out of bed and started pulling the clothes she had found and stuffed them into a bag.

"I'll go downstairs and get you food and water for the voyage. It will take you some time to reach the villages." He looked at them both. "Be quick." And then the bartender turned and went back out the door, closing it behind him.

"Ugh..I don't think I slept enough." The princess said groggily as she continued to pack with as much speed as she could muster at the early mark. "So what was that about today being better?" She looked up at him from her bent over position and her eyes glittered. "Maybe tomorrow, eh?" The side of her mouth lifted in a half-smile.

[Guest]

OOC: Sorry for the wait, been busy.

IC:

The battles of the day were not to begin when the princess and her guardian reached their destination, it seemed. At least, for Rakhash, the first fight he was forced to undertake on this day was against the comforting darkness of sleep that gripped him so tightly. Even as Lianelle moved out of the bed and began to pack up her belongings, the young man kept his eyes closed in a vain attempt to hang on to the relaxing state that Yabal’s knocking had dragged him from. Letting it a moan of frustration, he forced himself to sit up.

Sliding out of bed groggily, he stretched his arms above his head, before grunting and pulling his injured arm back down to his side. Reprimanding himself silently for forgetting about the injury on his arm, Rakhash shook he head. Well, at least stretching the sewn gash aided in waking him. Running a hand through his hair, he blinked voraciously and gazed to some of his belongings. He sighed, and then set to work packing up his clothes and items of personal belonging into a bag.

“So much for the Rafao having a sense of gratitude, I guess,” the young man growled as Yabal left the room. It irked him that he had risked so much in order to help a leader that he had recently begun to question deeply, only to have the man do nothing to shed the image Rakhash had begun to form of a tyrant. He was too deeply concerned with escaping to let it bother him too much, however. The notion that the Rafao was invulnerable had been shattered, and he found himself without the sense of awe and fear that had once pervaded his thoughts about the Lord of Amun Rah. The fact that that lord was now chasing them seemed like a much smaller thing, after the events of the past few days.

Rakhash let out a chuckle as Lianelle joked about their situation. “Who says it can’t be a better day still? Don’t tell me you’re going to let a little thing like the Rafao chasing you bring you down,” he replied with a surprising amount of merriment. “You’re still going home today, right?” He smiled in reassurance, hefting up the bag he had packed.

[Ashari]

OOC: Oh yah, yah. Busy busy, of course.

IC:

Rakhash could feel as the stitches tightened when he stretched his arms out, not quite painfully so, but enough that he'd know they were there when he squeezed his fist shut as one did when stretching like he had done.

"Gratitude is for the weak." Lianelle said sourly. She also didn't have the best opinion of the leader at the moment. "I'm sure he needs us for some reason." The young woman shrugged and sighed deeply.

Looking over at Rakhash as he spoke, Lianelle couldn't help a full smile from spreading over her soft lips. "You're right, he isn't so big and bad, now is he?" The princess stood and lifted her pack with her, slinging it over her right shoulder. In that one movement she didn't look like a lofty princess anymore, she was just a woman on a mission, avoiding a terrible path which the fates had placed her upon. "Yes, I am still going home, and that's because of you, Rak." Her grace, overwhelming at times, floated her across the room to him. She wrapped her arms around his waist and pulled him close, just to feel his warmth and smell his scent and be near him.

"Come on, we better get down stairs." The princess moved toward the door and opened it. She turned around and looked at their room. It had, for a short time, been home, and she would miss it, no matter how cramped or different from her old pampered existance. "I'm going to miss this." Her dark eyes looked up at Rakhash's, and she bit her lip to keep from frowning. "Oh.." She stepped back in the door and grabbed on of the books from the shelf. It had been the one she had been drawing in, and writing in. "Don't really know what Yabal would do with this anyway." The young woman stuffed it under her arm, and took Rakhash's hand in hers.

Downstairs the barkeep had gathered another bag, and it seemed to already be full of all sorts of goodies, it was nearly bulging. "When you stop, try to do so in one of the oasises. They will give you the best coverage, and they usually keep some warmth because of the plants that are there. There is always water around, check the wide-leaves, they often have reservoirs with lots of clean water." Yabal looked at the couple. "And keep out of sight." He pushed the bag across the bartop. "I suggest you go out to the poor district." Here he looked at Rak. "You know where the east wall is broken apart? Go out through that, there won't be anyone guarding it. Becareful, it isn't exactly safe." Yabal sighed. "Walk around the perimeter of the wall, when you get to the western wall -- where the guard tower with the blue flag is, then you can get on the carpet."

Lianelle squeezed Rakhash's hand. It was sort of a lot of directions, but they could handle it. "Thank you, Yabal. For everything." She took a deep breath to keep from crying. "And thank Rylas too, I didn't really get a chance to." Yabal nodded. "And the girls, for the clothes.. and just everyone." She closed her mouth then, because if she opened it again she knew she would cry.

"I will." He looked at Rakhash. "Good luck, son. Oh. And you're fired, by the way." Yabal smiled. "But if you ever need a job, or a place to stay, you are welcome here."

[Guest]

OOC: Le retour de triomphe...hopefully...

IC:

Rakhash nodded grimly as Lianelle spoke her cynical thoughts on their leader. Cynicism had, in recent times, become a more prevalent force in the young man himself, walking hand in hand with the doubts that had risen about his faith, and about figures that he had looked up to from a young age. No longer was the institution of the Rafao above corruption and deceit, an unflappable force of order and justice. It had become clear to him that for justice to be found in the world, those who deserved it would oft times have to forge their own, rather than have it enforced by those with power.

Justice, it seemed, had become anathema to power, and those who held it. After all, in a just world the most powerful man on the isle would not be chasing a young man and a princess who had, in all reality, helped him. Then again, in a different world, he might not have met the woman before him that was more amazing in every respect than anything his imagination had ever conjured.

Silently, the bodyguard thanked Anasis for her charity.

A princess’s luminous smile broke the state of inquisition he had found himself in, as it had frequently since Rakhash had found Lianelle huddled, scared, on the streets of Abu’Sahir. His smile showed itself, unbidden, in response. As the beautiful woman glided across the room and wrapped her arms around him, Rakhash reveled in the moment, taking in her scent, impressing the sensation of her warm body against his into memory. “I’m glad, then,” he said softly, “that I could be the one to take you home. Regardless of where we go, it’ll be home to me just because you’re there.” Letting out a sigh as she drew back and urged them onward, he nodded in determination.

“I’ll miss it too,” he said as Lianelle rushed back to grasp her book of drawings. He let out a small laugh. “I’m sure he’d frame your drawings, or sell them for a hefty amount. Good art is hard to come by sometimes.”

Descending the stairs, Rakhash led Lianelle over to Yabal, and listened intently to his instructions. He nodded as the barkeep went over the directions, mentally noting the places he spoke of, bringing up memories of the poor district. “I understand. Thank you for everything you’ve done to help us Yabal, I won’t forget it.” Waiting silently as Lianelle spoke, Rakhash’s brow furrowed slightly. Rylas? Our neighbour? Why would she need to thank him? Pushing the thought aside as something to talk about later, he let out a small yawn. Then, smiling, and nodding, as the large man offered his support and goodbyes, he turned once more to Lianelle. “I know the way. It looks like we’ll get to see part of my old home after all.”

Taking her hand in his, he clenched it tightly. “Shall we?”

[Ashari]

OoC: Welcome back!

IC:

And the memories came to Rakhash in a flood. They washed across him, visions of the places he had played in youth, places his mother had warned him of going once he was of an age where 'because your mother said so' just didn't hold the power that it once did. She spoke of places where the street urchins outnumbered the good working-class citizens. They were people that would be better off in a jail, away from the regular people as they slowly spread their disease of destroyed morals and disapointed worlds views. Some were ex-slaves, others had just been born into extreme poverty and never did anything to escape it. She might've said: They were better off dead. But, that, when said to an eleven yahren old seemed a bit extreme. Plus, Rak had always been a studios youngster, she imagined he'd stay out of trouble.

If only she could see him now.

The rumors of his arrest would've tricked down even to the poor district. People who knew his name, and those who knew his family name, would know about it, and gossip - such an idle pastime - was prevalent, especially among the women. She would know of his treason against the Rafao. For that was the charge that he had been given. She would've heard it by now, and so would his father. He hadn't been the one attributed to the saving of the Rafao - no, his head was still slated to be removed, or would've been, had he not escaped with the aid of the beautiful princess that even now walked beside him.

They made their way out into the cold morning air and Lianelle pulled the hood of her cloak over her hair. It was still fuzzy and dishevelled from sleeping. She hadn't had a chance to brush it out as she usually did. The princess didn't seem much upset by it though. She looked over to Rakhash and smiled. "We're gonna be fine." As she spoke a plume of fog escaped her full lips as they formed the words. "You alright with both of those bags and the rug? I can carry the rug if you want."

She'd help him if he let her. It was going to be a difficult voyage - with or without the aid of the magical carpet. If she could help at all, it wouldn't just help him, but her too. The faster time they made, the better.

Abu`Sahir's streets were ominously empty as they moved through them. No one who wanted to be in the trade district would be out this early. Not even the merchants of Foreigner's Court had yet to venture out to set up their stalls or to open the doors to the permanent stores. Everyone still slept - especially the courtiers who were well known for slumbering through the entirety of the morning into the afternoon waking just in time for a light breakfast before lunch.

"Did you want to say good bye to your parents?" Lianelle asked as they moved across the cobbles that were filled in every groove with particles of sand. Everywhere was filled with sand. People tried to sweep it off the steps of their houses, but it always collected again. "We don't have to, I was just thinking... you might not see them for a while."

[Guest]

Rakhash opened his mouth to speak quickly as Lianelle offered to carry the rug. A negative response seemed reflexive, a natural reaction to the situation. He stopped himself quickly, however, furrowing his brow slightly as he thought harder on the subject. At some point, he would have to stop acting like nothing more than a bodyguard, and start acting like someone who felt he deserved her respect. He wasn’t just protecting her anymore, was he? He was in love with a woman who loved him in turn. That very description made them partners, equal and no less.

As much as the young man would be willing to carry the weight of all the objects he held, and the weight of all the problems the princess would ever face on his shoulders, he couldn’t keep treating her like she was absolutely helpless. She had proven otherwise quite unequivocally on several occasions. Quietly, still frowning slightly, he handed the beautiful young woman the magical rug. “I suppose,” he said lightly, a small smile on his lips, “that you’re capable of handling it.”

Rakhash gazed at Lianelle as she took the rug from him and positioned it to carry most comfortably. Her hair, mussed and unkempt, didn’t seem to detract from her beauty in the least, and even the cloak she wore seemed more than just a simple cloak on her. People said that love made everything beautiful, but Rakhash was positive that it was more than that. Throughout the world, the young man could imagine no creature more beautiful than her, more perfect in every respect. Perhaps his emotions did provide some embellishment to that fact now, but whether in lucid thought or through myopic haze, his opinion on her was unchanging.

He smiled broadly at her, as though trying to silently say the things he felt that time and circumstance seemed to make inappropriate as audible words just then.

Focussing back to the situation at hand, adjusting the bags he was carrying, Rakhash turned in the direction of the poor district. Beginning to walk, he let out a sigh, and watched as his breath was made visible in the early morning air. He stopped as Lianelle spoke, considering her words. “I don’t know what I’ll say to them, Lianelle. The things they’ve heard can’t possibly be any better than what Rafao has put out there. I’m a traitor now, a fugitive,” he said, his voice somber. He shook his head slightly. “You’re right, though. I should talk to them, clear up what really happened. At the very least, I should say good bye…” He trailed off, thinking, then smiled again. “…And they should meet you, I think. It’s only fair, given the traumatic experience I expect trying to face your father is going to be like.” He chuckled, then began to walk again towards the place he had grown up.

[Ashari]

"Oh oh.. I can handle it," Lianelle teased as she took up the rug and swung it over her shoulder so as to better distribute the weight. She had helped her servants before with laundry and the moving of her furniture and so was stronger than she might appear. The princess, being rather trapped in her very small environment, found solace in changing the arragement of her life via the things in her room. It was a physical manifestation of change - a change she could never actually make happen, but one which had been suddenly and violently thrust upon her.

"Goodbye Mother, Father! I'll be back to visit before you know it!"

Muriel had held onto that notion, she had hoped her son would be home soon, had hoped she'd be able to pull him into the hug she didn't get a chance to give him when he left last time. She had cursed at Arafna after she found out he had encouraged their son to make off like a thief into the city - without a proper good-bye to his own mother! But, her husband was right about one thing, she would've guilted Rakhash into staying, she would've looked at him with her big brown eyes, brown eyes which Rakhash's so mirrored. She would've cried, and she would've held onto his shirt, and told him he could discover everything he wanted right from their doorstep.

It might've worked, she told herself. After gossip began to circulate that Rakhash had been arrested in the streets, and brought through the town with a guard at his front and back, on his way to the Palace -- to the dungeon -- well, she began to truely wish that she had coerced him into staying. He wasn't ready, she told Arafna. Too young, too head-strong, he had done something foolish. It was, of course, all a misunderstanding which the Rafao would realize immediately, she reasoned. But then she heard of the execution, and the subsequent escape, and her heart broke.

Arafna and she had been fighting since then, perhaps had fought with more passion than even those in the riots. Muriel blamed him for the loss of their only son. He understood that, but he still had the stoic belief that it was a misunderstanding. For, his son had been raised with values, and no jaunt through the city would've changed that.<hr>"My papa won't be that bad," she lied, and smiled, giving him a wink. "Yes.. he will be, but, you're ready! I can tell." The young woman nodded and moved over to hold onto Rak's hand, her wrist bumping against his playfully before she took hold. They started to walk again, and it was only half a mark later when they arrived at a familiar doorstep.

It was a simple house, two floors, but only two rooms per floor, making it quite rectangular. Like many houses in the area, the roof sagged a bit, especially in the rainy season, but for now it was holding strong, and kept out the desert cold that surrounded them. A chimney spit out smoke with as much intensity as the couple did. Windows were already alight with candles, both of his parents were awake at this mark, his mother setting about her housework and preparing food for his father's day. His father was getting dresesed and ready for his work. It was a good routine, one that worked. It also involved them being in separate ends of the house, which was a good thing considering the state of their marriage lately.

"Quiet..." Lianelle said. "Knock, or just go in?"

[Guest]

“Well, I certainly hope so,” he replied with a chuckle, “I mean, facing down Rafaos is one thing, that doesn’t scare me any longer. You’re father, on the hand…” He trailed off grinning, gripping the princess’ hand and beginning to walk briskly towards their destination, his old home.

As the half a mark or so passed quickly, Rakhash found himself somewhat immersed in his surroundings. He had been here recently, it was just that everything had taken on a different tint to him. In the days since he had left, he had experienced so many things, so quickly, that the normality of what he now faced seemed, in and of itself, abnormal. Strange, the conflict of views that existed in his own mind. The young man wondered absently at what Lianelle must be feeling at the same time, experiencing all these places for the very first time.

His reverie broke upon his old home coming into sight. Sights and smells, memories and feelings all rushed back to him in a torrent. The simple home he once dwelled in stood as he remembered it, the light from within seeming to beckon him to return. Rakhash found himself doubting whether or not his return would be as welcome as it would be under normal circumstances. He brought trouble with him now, a danger that’s attached to any fugitive. Certainly, whatever reaction he received, it would be better to make it a quick visit. There was far too much to do, and no point in risking anyone he loved more than he had to.

That included the woman he now walked with, and the danger she faced by staying in the city.

“Let’s just head in,” he said, raising an eyebrow and he opened the door. “Mother? Father?” he called into the house, taking a step in and pulling the young princess in behind him. Rakhash smiled at the familiar scent of his mother’s cooking. “Anyone home?”

[Ashari]

"Alright."

Homely ambiance. There was an aura around one's family home, the place where they grew up. Rak could remember when the house looked so huge that it even the Rafao would envy it. Of course, then he began to grow like a weed, and by the time he hit adolescence his lanky teenage form didn't appreciate the size of the building anymore. However, it still had that feeling of safety. His mother and father had made it that way. Each board that Arafna nailed into place to insure there would be no leaks during the rainy season (though he always missed a few) had made this house a home. Every meal that Muriel cooked and then served with the three of them sitting together (or occassionally four if one of Rakhash's tutors stayed to eat) had made the kitchen a place of gathering.

It had staled. Not to say it was gone, no, but there was something else in the air as well. It was the same tension during the riot, right before everything errupted.

"Rakhash?" Arafna had just woken a short time before, and he stepped to the front door from their small sitting room where he had been looking over his orders for the day. He was wearing a loose-fitting brown shirt which wasn't laced all the way up the front, leaving a V of exposed chest. His breeches were black and hung down to his feet which were covered in warm socks that Murial had knitted for the cold mornings when the floorboards were still chilled from the midnight air. "Wha-where have you been?" His hand reached out to clasp Rak's and brought him into a warm fatherly hug - his arm wrapping around his son's shoulders and squeezing him with perhaps more feeling than he had since his boy was actually a young boy. "By Anasis's Grace! Who is this?" He looked behind Rakhash and spotted Lianelle and the let his son free of the embrace. A big smile was on his face, both at seeing Rak and even of his companion.

"Muriel! Muriel, get in here." He called toward the kitchen.

"Arafna, I've got to make your breakfast, and then I've yet to finish packing your lunch, not to mention that the bread for dinner hasn't even been started!" The woman hollared from the kitchen.

"Fine, if you'd like to miss your son visiting..."

There was a silence in the kitchen where there had been the sound of clanking pots and a spoon against a bowl mixing furiously. The familiar face of his mother appeared in the doorway a flicker later, and she looked incredibly tired, but smiled. "We-we heard you were going to be killed." The woman swallowed, and her eyes were welling with tears already, just at the sight of her son.

[Guest]

Rakhash reveled in the emotions and memories that seemed to emanate from that house. Every creak and groan in the floor, every scent in the air and mark on the wall, held something of his past in it, a piece of his family’s history ascribed to each one. It was a nice change to be in a place that wasn’t altogether new to him. He smiled, and turned to the woman he loved. “It’s not a palace, but its home,” he said softly. Silently, he hoped she didn’t think any less of him because of his childhood home, and the cruel light that her own must have cast on it. The worry passed quickly, however. He knew Lianelle was not the kind of person to change her mind about someone based on their belongings.

The young man’s smile widened as his father stepped out of the room before him. “Father!” he replied, reaching out enthusiastically to meet his the man’s hand. Wrapping his arm around the man, he hugged him back, expressing how much he had truly missed him without words. “I’ve been staying at an inn, the Golden Ram. A bit nicer than what’s around here, for sure,” he said, backing up. As his father expressed surprise at his companion, Rakhash’s smile widened even further. “This is Lianelle, father,” he trailed off, suddenly finding himself at a loss for how to properly introduce her. “I…we…I met her the day I left.” He looked at her expectantly, hoping she would introduce herself.

As Arafna called for Muriel, Rakhash anxiously waited for her to come. Appearing before him, he tried to find the words to begin to speak, but found himself halted and his expression soured by his mother’s voice first. “I was…” he replied after a long pause. “For doing what’s right. They need to have me before any such act can be performed, though, and as you can see, I’m here only with a person I wish to be with, and not with any of the Rafao’s guards.” He shrugged. “It’s really why I came. I’ve got to leave Abu’Sahir, and quickly, and I wanted you to know. I’m safe now, but perhaps not for too much longer if I stay here. And…there are things that need tending outside of the city walls.” He had trouble finding a way to begin the tale of where he had been and where he was going, so he let his words set in. Perhaps, it would not be entirely necessary to tell them every detail of the events. “How…how have things been here?”

[Ashari]

Lianelle watched with a bright smile and wide eyes at the reception from Rakhash's father toward him. It was... beautiful. There wasn't another word for it. She could see the tension leave Rak's shoulders, and she realized how much his life had changed since he left this place. His home. Quite out of the blue she wished she was from here so that he didn't have to leave. She didn't want to take him away from all this, and she felt so very compelled to stay as well. Lingering thoughts of her people faded to the background as Rakhash's father noticed her, and her companion stuttered out a response.

Dipping into a well rehearsed curtsey that was just a bit awkward thanks to her nerves, the princess smiled at the older man. "Yes, Lianelle Viridan. It's a pleasure to meet you-" She tentatively stuck her hand out to be shaken as she spoke, and Rakhash's father pulled her into a similar hug as the one he shared with his son, though a bit more brief.

"Arafna, and it's a pleasure to meet anyone who can stand following this kid around." He jerked a thumb over to his son and winked at the young woman who had hardly expected such an amazingly good reception from Arafna. Of course, he didn't know the trouble she had gotten his only son into. That was probably for the better. Otherwise he might have hated her deeply.

Muriel, however, would be much more difficult to win over. The worn woman looked at Lianelle quite like a bug for a moment as her baby spoke. She was leaning heavily on the doorframe, as if she needed it to support her else she might faint from the shock of seeing him, and the tears that had been threatening to surface now welled to the surface and spilled down her cheeks. "For what's right?!" She shook her head, and Arafna went to her, taking to his wife's side for perhaps the first time in days. It was the first time she allowed it.

Arafna cleared his throat. "We've been getting by, son. Worried about you. We had hoped you'd come by the day after you left.. or perhaps the one after it, but, you didn't. And then the rumors started." Muriel wiped her eyes on her husband's shirt's shoulder. "Mostly your mother worried, though," he said in clarification which was entirely untrue.

His mother looked briefly at her husband with a slightly raised brow, and most of her tears were gone, and she was just thankful to see her son. "Where are you going?" Muriel asked, but, any answer was interrupted by a swift knocking on the door. It was a sharp noise, and actually wasn't on the door, but on the doorframe. A doorframe which Rak's hands had wrapped around more times than he could count as he skipped out the door as a youth, slowly growing taller and taller.

Now, however, the person who stood in the door was very much the opposite of him. Where he was a he she was a girl, though one not notice it at first sight, thanks to her cropped short hair. She was short and thin - lithe - in a way that one might think adhiel or fae, though her ears weren't pointed and she looked very Amunic in her colouring whereas, Rakhash was broadshouldered and tall. They shared the colouring, atleast. Her luminous brown eyes looked into Rakhash's. They weren't dark like Lianelle's, instead they were an almost glowy tan nearing the complexion of her skin.

She was somewhat out of breath, as if she'd been running. "Rakhash Muraden?" Her voice was strong, but still young. She held a piece of folded parchment in her hand, which she proptly held out infront of her. "Via the royal guards." Her bright eyes took in the visages of the people around him. "A group searches for you, they are lead by a dark adhiel. He sends you this correspondence."

Rahkash--
I don't know your business, and I don't know what you have done, or are doing, and frankly I don't care. What I do know is that during the riots you have save my life--127 yahren, and I treasure them all--so I owe you.

I'm sure you have no doubts that you are...a man who is being searched for. I'm sure you have also figured out that I have some connections with those who are looking for you, but they are not nearly what you think.

These men killed thousands of my cousins...I survived, and I am here alive, but it's not exactly as if I can leave at any moment.

That's enough chatter: Ionis himself has charged a man with hunting you down, along with some other goons. I know the man, and I know the goons, and I know you how you can avoid them and get to some reasonable amount of saftey.

There is one catch: I go with you. We are both prisioners in our own right, one of us soon to be more than the other.

Find me, I'll be floating around the inns and taverns. If you do the same, I am sure we are bound to run into each other...shouldn't be to hard to spot the dark ahiel.

Don't get all gushy on me, you saved my life, and I have a consciene--

Jadmai

PS--How's the girl?

"Sir, I know what you did at the Market, I know about those you protected." She rolled up one of her long sleeves to expose an arm covered in fresh wounds that had been tended to, but weren't bandaged now and then she looked at Lianelle. "My thanks to you both for your help. My life would be forfeit were it not for your bravery. I would gladly tell them that I know not of what happened to you, if you ask it of me."