╨╧рб▒с ¤ ■ ■ R ng the once missing hand up.
Backlit by the
window, she turned about to study it. Tears blurred her eyes
and the new hand
began to shake. The rest of Thist's body catches the shiver and
she snapped
her hand into a fist and turned away. Trying to master
something within, she
raised her other hand to cover her eyes.
Sitting on the edge of her chair, Flame looked as if she would
say something.
Her teeth shut with an audible click, as she instead chose to
wait for Thist,
content to let things go at the present pace.
Another tremble took over Thist's body, every muscle tightening
dangerously.
A hiss began, the words inaudible.
Flame let go a deep breath, every desire screaming at her to
move to hold and
comfort Thistle, yet...an instinct, old and buried, told her to
remain. In
the back of her mind she heard Warrior snarling to attack. In
the end, she
remained.
Thistle turned to look at Flame over her shoulder, a corner of
her mouth
curving into a smile...a deadly one.
Emerald eyes blinked, any hope held therein draining away in
the light of
tragic understanding. She had just met the Mongrel...
The Mongrel rose smoothly and turned to face Flame, every line
of her body
poised to strike, though she seemed to stand with hands resting
at her side.
Her voice was low and hissing, the words never the less hammer
blows to Flame,
"Mine is the hand that shall vanquish in your name..."
Warrior surged through their shared body, thickening the vocal
chords and
darkening emerald eyes. Before the Mongrel could continue with
the Creed, she
ground out the next lines, "You are the strength that will keep
them
immaculate and just. You have forsaken the honor of life
granted at birth so
that you may be the instrument of purity, of truth, of
deliverance..." She
watched Thist's mouth, saw it follow the words of the Creed,
sometimes loud
enough to hear, other times not. Her head tiled as Warrior
peeled their lips
back from their teeth, "I know all about it."
With a cold nod, the Mongrel smiled coldly, saying, "Thank you
for my hand."
And in the next instant was on Flame, delivering a fierce
backhanded blow.
A roar tore from their throat and Flame forced them to take the
backhand,
grabbing Thistle by the shoulders and continuing the motion.
She hefted her
feet, planting them in Thist's middle, and heaved. Finishing
the roll to her
feet, Flame turned to face her opponent, ready for whatever
would come next.
Landing on her feet near one of the weapon alcoves, the Mongrel
sunk to a
knee and reached low and slightly behind her. With a deft
movement she
brought up a silver MoonClaw from its hiding place. A feral
grin stretched
her lips as she saw the involuntary shiver that took Flame at
the sight of the
gleaming weapon. Liquid in motion, she rose and began to
circle, her lips
moving quietly.
Flame reached behind her, two iron Dahn Jasan coming to her
hands quickly.
She followed Thist's movements, always sure to keep her in
sight. A snarl
colored her words, "You wish to dance so soon?"
Her goal the door, the Mongrel continued to circle. She
blinked a couple of
times at something, the hardness in her eyes wavering for only a
moment before
she glared and snarled, "Stay away from me...Quickning."
Letting the name
ring like the most foul insult, she stepped back out the door
and quickly
retreated.
Flame finally dared in that instant to reach out with her mind,
and drew
back, stunned at the barrage of impressions she got. Staggering
a step, she
sheathed her weapons and quickly followed the Mongrel out the
door. "Khyaris!
Wait!"
Without looking back, she raced out of the House, across the
beach. Sand
scattered beneath feet that staggered. The roar of the ocean
faded beneath
the clamor of remembered battle. A new wave of synesthesia
crashed over the
Mongrel, revealing the moment her creation began. Her new hand
throbbed in
remembered agony, the sight of the bleeding stump that the
Lyeazic had left
bright in her eyes for sever▄еeB How long had she watched Thistle sleep? Hours? Days? It
didn't matter
really, she would watch forever if it was necessary. Exhaustion
tugged at
her, the effects of the massive amounts of Healing she had done.
Deep bags
pulled at her emerald, bloodshot eyes, and the fading scars from
her last
fight stood out on her pasty skin. And yet, she could not make
herself sleep.
She noticed that Thist's breathing had quickened slightly and
made herself pay
attention.
Thist laid still as consciousness came slowly to her. Eyes
remained closed
as she tried to access some memory. Almost immediately she
realized she was
without her companion...pain. And to amplify that thought...she
recognized
the sensation of restraints on *both* her wrists. Grey-green
eyes snapped
open.
Warrior trembled in reaction to the look in Thistle's eyes,
something in them
bringing the predator's instincts surging to the surface. Flame
took a
silent, deep breath and spoke in a low, even voice, "How do you
feel?"
She stared straight up at the stained glass tryptic in the
skylight window.
Her eyes narrowed as the picture brought memories clashing back.
With her
mind jumbled by the images and feelings evoked by memory, she
caught movement
in her peripheral vision. A deep breath, each scent on her
tongue a story,
pulled into newly Healed lungs fed the awakening of her senses,
her
synesthesia.
"Easy...you've been out for a little while...take your time
waking up."
Flame kept her voice even, deep and soothing. She hoped that
the woman lying
before her was even close to the Thistle that had disappeared
into the black
land of the Elves.
Thistle held very still, the familiar vibrations in the voice
filling the
last pieces of her sensory evoked memory, the components
clicking together
almost painfully. A collage of images tumbled through her mind
then...from
the day she revealed the room as a surprise to Flame, to the
last night they
slept together underneath the stained glass skylight. Her life
before being
the Mongrel opened to her, vividly colored and
completely...useless...
Noticing that the other in the room held her breath in wait,
Thist closed her
eyes and nodded once, very slowly, very carefully.
"How are you feeling?" The words came out nearly as a relieved
sigh. Flame
vibrated with uncertainty, her tired senses strained to catch
something,
anything...
"Like a dream," Thistle whispered, eyes rolling about the room.
"A dream.
This is a dream. It has to be." Dark eyes close as her voice
faded to
nothing.
Concerned, Flame leaned closer, her voice picking up
conviction. "No...no
more dreams. You are home Thistle...your real home...remember?"
Thistle opened her eyes to look out the skylight window once
more. They
flicked over to look at Flame for an instant, before gazing
again out the
colored window. Her face remained emotionless, a perfect frame
for her
voice...matter of fact and cold. "I remember."
Tilting her head, as if to listen for something, Flame sighed
heavily.
Whatever she had been looking for she had not found. Warrior
rumbled
warnings, something making her want to bare her teeth and dig
her claws into
the ground. Despite the caution in her self-sister, Flame waved
her hand,
dispelling the restraints with a small golden flash.
Her wrists flexed once, then she was still for long moments.
Flame opened her mouth several times to speak, then settled
finally for, "It
took a while, I had to work in sections...but it is whole.
Please tell me if
you experience any pain because of your new hand...so I can
repair it right
away." She babbled the words out, unsure what to make of this
quiet being
upon her bed.
She began to move slowly, bringial moments. Rage tore the
synesthesia away, and
she spun, knowing Flame would be behind her. The silver
MoonClaw flew the
space between the two women, and buried itself into Flame's
shoulder.
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