[PRP] No Peace to be Found (Shaheen and Shik)[FIN]

[Seussi]

How many days was it now since they had returned? Shaheen didn't even know. They all just blurred into one for the war chieftain, who had found herself a place to sit, to wrap her large wings about herself with her knee's drawn up to her chest and her face buried in her hands. What would have been a lovely location in the forest, surrounded by beautifully tall and elegant trees, ones that reminded her of a home that was apparently not completely lost, was marred by the voices that slithered through her mind, hissing at her, goading her. She had fallen so far in such a short amount of time. She had once felt that she was somebody special, somebody to be admired and respected.

She felt that way no more.

Perhaps she had just flown too close to the sun, and this would have happened even if the islands had not been destroyed, even if insanity had not taken restriction of her life. Scorched and sent tumbling down from up high, an out of control careen that she could not seem to bring under control no matter how hard she tried. She had lost the respect of so many, and now she had even lost respect in herself.

And so she sat, and would continue to remain, warmed only by the tears that slipped free from closed eyelids and trailed down each sun darkened cheek. She had sought out not a single friend since the return, could not bring herself to speak with anybody of the torture that she endured. If only she had just given in to that phoenix all those months ago, she might now be like the others, put to rest, free, and at peace.  

[medigel]

That was the first battle in Shik's memory that he had not wanted to be a part of. The phoenix was one thing, but to watch its contagion spread to several others and change them, to watch the fog play on their memories and dangle loved ones before them like so many colorless puppets . . . That had been the last straw.

Thus for several days straight the executioner had barely left his modest tent, stuck between morose meditation, dagger tossing, and idly carving pieces of wood - each thrown away before any discernible shape could be formed. And when that proved to be only infuriating, Shikoba eventually moved to the outside and strayed away from his home, leaving its piles of shavings to be picked up at some other point.

Really, he just wanted to go hunting. That was the only activity that could consolidate concentration and skill, both being enough to keep his spirits up. Knowing that his aptitude with the bow and arrow was awful, but still wanting to try something new, the horseman had taken with him a sling and several jagged-edged rocks as ammunition; more could easily be found along the way as needed. He was following tracks he was sure to belong to some sort of reptilian creature when he came across a curious sight.

Because he knew those wings and he knew that hair, and gods he knew that bronzed skin - but the familiarity was warped by the fact that it was all in a position of frailty that he hadn't known before in. the horseman stopped, brows raised as he stared at the wilted creature before him and wondered if this was really and truly the chieftain - or if his daydreams had suddenly begun to incorporate people.

"What are you doing." It wasn't posed as a question so much as a surprised statement.  

[Seussi]

Shaheen was not fully aware of anybody else's presence at first. So wrapped up in her own inner self loathing, so lost in a sea of whispering voices that it took her completely unawares, and she mentally chastised herself for allowing anybody to get so near before she knew they were even there. The voice that reached her ears, cutting through the haze she had allowed herself to fall into, made her cringe, both mentally and physically. Of course, it would be him who would find her like this, broken and crying, in a position she had never found herself in before. Her wings automatically shifted, lifting, spreading, curving around to block her from view as she slowly lifted her face from her hands, and hastily wiped away the wet trails from her cheeks, rubbing at her eyes, her other hand falling to the ground, fingers instantly curling around a rock, thumb stroking over it's surface as she let her wings fall away, revealing the chieftain was trying desperately to keep her face carefully blank.

What she did not realize, as she was in no way familiar with what happened when one cried, is that her eyes were puffy and red, bloodshot, and her cheeks were flushed red.

"Nothing. Sitting. Enjoying the quiet." There was never any quiet for Shaheen, never any peace. But lying to him was easier then admitting the truth, even if it was clear on her face.

Ol-j-man

 

[medigel]

As ever, she greeted him with a rock in hand. But even that familiar sight did little to ease him as he stared at the bloodshot chieftain and her curled but useless wings like she was a stranger, not an old friend-enemy-frienemy -- whatever it was they were. And because of the strange reverie he had been host to these past few days, Shik might have actually believed her about enjoying the quiet if not for the obvious signs that she was distressed.

"Get up."

So Shik reacted to stress as he always did: by reestablishing command.

"You don't belong on the ground."

Her face was blank. His face was blank. But their words belied their inner disquiet in different manners.

"We had our time to grieve. Move on."

But Shik knew that for most, there would never be enough time. It certainly hadn't been for him, to have only a handful of minutes with his mentor and family, and pale remakes of them at that. To see them had opened old wounds nevertheless, and Shik had never reacted well to the emotional - much less when it came to those he had thought he had moved past. But when it came down to it, the executioner had simply shut himself down and expected to be better for it in the end.

And now he found one of his hands trembling ever so slightly, as if waiting for the dagger to manifest. For what did every confrontation of theirs ever involve but conflict?  

[Seussi]

She continued to stare at him, daring him to say something, anything. Already she could feel her annoyance with him rising, anger heating her skin. What right did he have to interrupt her, to question what she was doing?

What right did he have to command her?

Her body stiffened at his words, her body straightening slightly, her face tilting up as her eyes narrowed. Her wings twitched slightly, spreading slowly before folding in neatly behind her. Her face remained blank, but the anger was clear in her eyes. He did not get to talk to her like this. He had no right, it was not his place, and what control she had allowed him to have over her in the past no longer applied.

But he was right. She did not belong on the ground. She very stiffly pushed herself to her feet, rock held in a white knuckled grip at her side.

"I'm not grieving for them." She spat out. Indeed, she hadn't even cared when she'd sent her parents on there way. To her it had been a relief to see them gone, to know that she would never have to see them again. She took too dangerous steps towards him, her stance clearly aggressive. She was not grieving for them.

She was grieving for herself.  

[medigel]

The rock. The gods damned projectile Shaheen loved so much to use against him. It was just like her in every way, Shik thought in his growing anger: blunt, hard-headed, and unintelligent.

But it meant a fight was coming, and oh did Shik like being right.

A split second after she stepped forward, the executioner reacted with a leap forward, a hand sailing to grasp the arm which held the rock, nails pressed as he moved forward. "Then stop your weeping," he answered simply.

HP: 40
Damage: 3  

[Seussi]

Weeping? He thought that she was weeping? Okay maybe she was a little bit, but that wasn't exactly the point. She had never cried about anything, never, not once in her entire, incredibly long life. She had just never cared enough about anything or anyone to feel that tears were worth her time.

Except for herself. She cared about herself a lot.

She continued to glare up at him defiantly, her eyes rimmed in red, the skin around them slightly puffy, though not bloodshot because the whites of her eyes had returned to a dark, stony grey.

"I've stopped." She hissed, taking another step forward to get all up in his personal space when suddenly her rock wielding arm was in his tight and painful grasp, claws digging sharply into her skin. Her breath caught in her throat, her eyes flickering towards his hand then back up to his face, and she allowed her expression to soften, as her grip on the rock itself loosened, letting it fall to the ground with a dull thud against the cold, damp earth. Why was he doing this. Why---

"Why do you care?" Emphasis on the 'care'. Did he care about her? Did she care about him? Would she react the same way if the roles had been reversed and it had been her finding him hunched over on the ground? The answer was an obvious 'yes'. But did that mean anything.....

Her head hurt, and not just from crying, but from overthinking, and from spending too much time trying to make sense of the voices in her head. She closed her eyes for a moment, seemingly relaxed, like she had managed to calm herself down.

Then a knee was very suddenly and very rapidly raising up to meet Shik in the stomach.

HP: 37
Damage: 5  

[medigel]

The effect was predictable: he wheezed as the air was forced out of his lungs and backed off, relinquishing his grasp on her arm and rubbing the spot she had kicked. "'Why?'" he repeated with a small hiss. "'Why should I care?' I've asked myself that recently. Why do we follow this cycle, Shaheen, and question ourselves even when we know what the end result will be?"

Lowering his hand, Shik took his stance with narrowed eyes. "You've never broken before. Why let the dead do so?"

HP: 35
Damage: 0  

[Seussi]

That took her aback a bit, because she wasn't sure what the end result was that he was referring to. The fighting or the...other thing that she chose not to speak of but always started with the kissing. He was backing off so she did the same, frowning at him from where she stood, but keeping herself poised and ready, knowing that fight was imminent, accepting it as it came as naturally as breathing between the two of them.

She shook her head a little, a futile attempt to clear her head. She had asked him why, and his answer was vague at best. Maybe a more direct question was needed. "Do you care?" She couldn't ever tell, it was so hot and cold between them. What were they to each other? Friends? Enemies? Something in between? Certainly in the past she would have just considered him her rival, somebody to compete against and banter with and insult, and yes, occasionally it would break out into a fight. Obviously things had changed somewhere along the way. It was always fighting now. Fighting or..the other thing. No middle ground.

Except for when he had cured her, however temporary that had been. She had been normal for a time. Middle ground had been easy to tread on for a short while.

And there he went again. Blaming her breakdown on those who had died and not on the obvious. "The dead have not broken me. They are dead. They hold no power anymore." He was an idiot, but she was not about to help him. He could work it out for himself. She surged towards him with a powerful stroke of her wings, turning her body into a swinging kick aimed for his chest.

HP: 37
Damage: 3  

[medigel]

"Then what does?" Shik retorted, hefting his dagger anew as he raised a hand to block her kick from winding him again; still he staggered back. "Is it the Insanity? Because you've never let it break you before now either." More and more he was heaping the criticism on her because it felt satisfying to do so, to be the authoritative figure. If he had had the ambition as a younger man, he might have challenged Shaheen for her birthright, challenged the whole concept of War being a matriarchal society just for the sake of the challenge itself.

But here they were: both tainted by something different but equally virulent and self-destructive, feeding off each other like parasites. Where there would have been a friendly spar, now only something hollow lied.

HP: 32
Damage: wordsss  

[Seussi]

What was he doing? Was he just trying to aggravate her more, to throw around the word 'insanity' like it was absolutely nothing? Of course, just the mention of it seemed to make the whispers intensify gleefully, and she shook her head, not at him but at them as though doing so would be enough to knock them out for good. Of course, he wouldn't know that she wasn't shaking her head at him.

And if he was trying to get a rise out of her, it was damn well working. Rubbing her face into the fact that she was no longer strong, that she was breaking and no longer felt a need to scramble for repair. Her heart felt heavy, her gut hallow, her life tainted with grey. But the anger was always there, quick to rise, and to fill the gaping hole inside of her. She let it show in her eyes, her fury with him, this stupid man who couldn't have just left her alone, or kept his infuriating mouth shut. She stepped closer to him, weapon gone for the moment, chin tilted back slightly as she gazed straight into his eyes with her own insanity afflicted ones, then reached up two hands to grab at his arms, her nails which were not nearly impressive as his own digging into his skin as her grip tightened.

"It's just as you said." Her voice was cold, steely, a shroud for the many emotions that threatened to overtake her again as she forced out the words.

"I am not what I once was. I am no longer worthy of my title. I have no place here. No reason to be any longer. Nobody will care once I'm gone and consumed. I'm just accepting the inevitable, but that doesn't mean I'm going to do it quietly or without regret. I'm allowed to feel sorry for myself, Shikoba." The last words were growled, and she let her hands fall away. She knew she put herself in a vulnerable position, that he could really hurt her in this moment, and she just didn't care. She'd welcome the pain, embrace it as she always had, because it was all that was left to her that she could still appreciate and understand.

HP: 37
Damage: 1  

[medigel]

How the mighty had fallen. It disturbed him to see her so accepting of her fate, to have seen Shaheen bent on the ground in tears not moments before. She was right: this version of her wasn't worthy.

He dug his claws into her shoulders in response, staring hard at the woman. "Fester in your self-loathing if you wish. You are a bone that has mended wrong, and the only way to correct it is to break it again," Shik hissed. "This I will do until you decide to stand on your feet and forget this nonsense about being consumed. Like it or not, Shaheen, I care."

And he displayed his caring with claws down her arms followed by a forceful kick.

HP: 31
Damage: 7  

[Seussi]

His words were like salt on open wounds, the truth behind them stinging painfully, seeming to sear right through her. Somewhere inside of her she knew this is what she needed, that he was trying to help her, in his own way. But above that, a seething mass of indignation. She hadn't asked him for his help. This was none of his concern. She bared gritted teeth at him, tempted to lunge, to summon her dagger, to go for his throat even now while she stood, leaving herself wide open.

A hiss of pain escaped through those teeth as claws raked down her arms. Tears welled up in her eyes again, this time unbidden and uncontrolled. She could feel the raw, burning heat left behind from the vicious attack on her flesh, a split second before a foot was burying itself in her gut, doubling her over, sending her stumbling back with her feet scrabbling for purchase against the damp forest floor.

She forced herself to unfold her body, to stand up straight, amber eyes glaring into his, the malevolence behind them practically enough to bore holes through his skull.

"Do that again." Maybe, just maybe he was actually right. Maybe at some point she would break, and when she mended again be stronger then before.

HP: 30
Damage: 0. We saw this coming a mile away.  

[medigel]

Shikoba, for all his frustrating mannerisms, was a simple man with simple thoughts and simple pleasures. A singular one was watching her fall away, ingrained from the months he was a colt still dealing with everything being a competition with her. But he was also pleased to have Shaheen ask him for deliverance, for more. Him.

A simple request required a simple answer. His mouth curved into a mirthless smile as he flicked the blood off his hands and advanced forward. The unadulterated fury was like a magnet to him, the hate a welcome drug. Every scream, every glare, every hit she would throw at him from here on out: all of it would just add to his bloodlusting high.

With a beat of his wings, Shik threw himself forward to claw at the chieftain as she had so kindly requested. Anything to tear out the weakness in her.

HP: 31
Damage: 7  

[Seussi]

She'd asked for it, and well, Shikoba sure knew how to deliver. To her credit, she didn't try to back away, didn't try to dodge to the side. She allowed him to lunge at her, to let his claws sink into her repeatedly, embraced the pain that stabbed through her, the warmth and smell of any blood that managed to trickle forth before her Fear shield took care of the wounds.

Eventually she pushed against him, the pain becoming too much for her to endure anymore, and with a beat of her wings she put space between them again, her right hand coming up to slide beneath the cloth that he wore around his neck, pressing a bloody print against his chest, her breathingh a little uneven and ragged.

But it still wasn't enough. She still felt...wrong. Off. Different. Weak.

Unworthy.

"Is that all you've got?" An angry mutter, as though he had been the one to stop, and not her that had moved away.

HP: 23
Damage: nawp