| Logs |
2012 February 20
| Neverneverwhere |
| Realms |
Retired
| Reality Fault |
General Info
 |
| Realms: Taps Logs |
Eye of the Tiger
Suraksha jerks upright at the howl, her eyes wide with worry, "That -- someone's been hurt!" She darts barefoot around the fire toward the terrible cry, snatching up a blanket and flinging it about her shoulders as she runs for the edge of the wagons. "Suze, get your kit! Someone bring torches, please!" Peering into the growing twilight, she spots Malachai and trots for him, calling, "Malachai, what happened? Who's hurt?!" It's not just 'Chana and Suze that the howl brings on the run. The townies are coming, too -- that howl carries! The last time they heard it from this particular throat was when a youngster in the pack challenged Malachai and would not accept simply being bested. The elder had been furious and broken-hearted when the fight had been pushed to deadly stakes.
Chanticleer was napping in the "attic" of his caravan, and was just rousing himself for the evening's party -- he never likes to miss those -- languidly, almost lazily pulling on a shirt and loose breeches. After the past excitement he's quite, quite glad to have some time to relax. He's still a little uneasy with this town, but more in the sense that he'll be glad to be away, rather than urging Suraksha to hitch up the beasts and careen for the nearest bit of civilization-other-than-this-town.
That's when he hears the howl. He freezes. That did not sound pleasant. In fact, it sounded... well, he's not sure -- and he doesn't like being unsure. But considering they're near a town full of werewolves... he grabs his sword, not bothering with the belt, carrying the weapon with him as he bursts from the caravan. He looks around first for the nearest of the perimeter walkers, second for Sulochana, third for anyone looking to be in distress. Indeed, the caravaneers are converging from everywhere. They are used to having big wolf-dogs with them on guard, after all. Even if they do not recognize the full meaning of the sound, they know it's not a pleasant one. Several of them have grabbed weapons; it's good to be armed when something sounds that angry.
Malachai's face is stony by the time people start to converge, but his tawny eyes are fierce and almost blazing. He raises his hand and points at Rattler, "That one. He is stepping where he does not belong." Townies have arrived by now, along with several of the wolf-formed; they're prowling out behind Malachai, not wanting to get too close. The alpha/elder is normally fairly stolid, but no one wants to get near when his metaphorical hackles are raised like this. Chanticleer blinks, hearing Malachai's pronouncement as he comes up on the group. The sidhe looks at Rattler, frowning. Rattler/Roy hasn't left the caravan's area since the day they arrived! What's Malachai saying?
Suraksha whirls to see who Malachai is pointing at, expecting to see one of the townies hasn't respected the caravan's territory, and Malachai is taking it personally. The Hetaera is, in fact, already mentally composing her attempt to keep Malachai from really hurting the poor unfortunate -- but at sight of Rattler and the other caravaneers behind her, it all flies out of her head -- what is Malachai so upset about? She turns around to the alpha again, her expression bewildered, "Who? What are you talking about, Malachai?" Then she remembers that agonized howl, and re-focuses, "Wait, that can wait. Who howled?! Are they injured?" Suraksha slows her mad dash to a walk... then simply stops partway between Malachai and the other caravaneers. She's still looking around Malachai, visually searching for who must have howled.
The torches brought by the caravaneers are making Malachai's eyes truly flash scarlet now, hinting that Malachai's control may have slipped just a little, "The howl was me. I am not injured. I am angry." He shifts his focus to speak past her to Rattler, "You go too far to touch her like that."
Roy is starting to smirk. He's behaved himself remarkably well... for Roy. In fact, he's been calm and stayed out of the way the whole time -- but now Malachai is calling him out. He saunters forward until he's just behind 'Chana, and then lays a hand on her shoulder. Well, actually he brushes his fingers against her neck on the way, as he asks in a completely insincere imitation of not understanding, "Like what?"
Suraksha blinks up at Roy, then looks back at Malachai, still completely confused. Her voice is gentle, though, as she asks, "Malachai, why would you care how anyone touches me? I can take care of myself, dear -- I assure you that is true." She smiles as she adds appeasingly, "Although your... protectiveness is very sweet."
Rachel is a late arrival to the scene; her eyes are wide in nervousness as she looks at the little tableau that's taking place carefully just on either side of the territorial line. Suraksha glances past Malachai to see the townsfolk, two- as well as four-legged, milling nervously behind their alpha. The small woman frowns thoughtfully, and reminds herself to pick her words very carefully. She doesn't want to accidentally cause Malachai to lose face -- this is a good place for the caravan to pause, even if Malachai cannot afford to become a long-term client of hers.
Chanticleer blinks, frowning. Okay, so... Malachai's apparently never seen a tango before. Why would- then the sidhe inwardly face-palms. Now he sees. He's seen it very rarely in the past: when someone thought that one night with Sulochana made her "theirs." Also Roy, being on the road and away from Baton Rouge and the kingship, is falling into his old, occasionally-charming-but-more-often-than-not-profoundly-irritating roguish and scoundrel-like ways.
Chanti remains quiet; Suraksha will recognize it soon enough and hopefully set Malachai straight. He looks around the encampment, though, frowning and unconsciously flexing his sword-hand. In the past it was just nobles and random merchants who might have thought they had some right to Sulochana, and while they had a lot of throw behind them, they usually knew enough about Hetaerae to not try to press the issue. Usually they just needed a gentle "reminder" of the way things were; usually on pain of public humiliation. But here... there's a whole pack of werewolves outside the camp. The sidhe starts to compose orders -- things he might need to shout out when nearly two hundred pounds of fuzzy fury, and a dozen of his like-follicled kin, suddenly decide to bear down on them.
Malachai is not yet stepping forward, but every line of his body shows how much effort it is costing him to stay on the town side of the line. "I don't believe he has any intention of harming you, my heart. But he is overstepping his bounds with another's mate."
Chanticleer mentally counts down when he hears Malachai use the word "mate," while Roy's drawl is perhaps a bit exaggerated -- people tend to take him less seriously when they hear him like this. "I t'ink mebbe you got some wrong ideas dere." He steps a little closer behind 'Chana and slides an arm around her waist. He himself is still bare from the waist up, and knows from experience what the pair of them look like together. Rattler isn't outright challenging Malachai, but he's not doing anything to calm the other man either.
Suraksha stiffens slightly at the phrases "my heart" and "another's mate," and lets the blanket slide down off her so it's half-draped over her left arm, so she can move swiftly if necessary. She lets her left hand rest lightly on Roy's, and her voice is very, very calm as she says slowly and carefully, "Malachai, I believe we may have a miscommunication here. However, I suspect you may wish to discuss this in..." her golden-eyed gaze sweeps across the milling townies, taking note of emotions: who (if anyone) is amused, who frightened or unhappy or worried, who looks either sneering or triumphant -- then she continues, "in a slightly less public venue?" She waves her free hand towards the territorial boundary as she adds, "Would you -- just you, please -- care to step inside to discuss this further?"
Chanticleer remains quiet and alert, in case Malachai doesn't immediately get the delicately subtle and gentle hint. Oh, wait: werewolf. Subtle? Well, weirder things have happened. As Suraksha offers Malachai permission to come into the caravan's area, the sidhe steps back a little. Best not to be too threatening. Even if Malachai alone could clobber him, it will not be the sidhe -- and if he can help it, nobody else in the caravan either -- who will give the town elder the excuse to do that.
One of the young men of the town that 'Chana recognizes as a shifter has stepped up close behind Malachai. He's been sneering slightly and has crossed his arms over his chest in a gesture some men use to make themselves look broader through the shoulders. His voice is low, but the words are intended to prod and needle Malachai, "Sure. Step right over there so he can challenge you in the territory you gave them." The comment is meant to carry, and it does. There's some nervous muttering amongst the townies -- this doesn't look very good. After all, didn't the public mating ceremony just happen last night? Is Malachai possibly starting to get too old to hold onto the pack -- if he can't even hold onto the woman he's claimed as mate?
Suraksha has been watching the guy out of the corner of her eye; Malachai may know his townsfolk, but 'Chana's been handling (and, when necessary, manipulating) men more subtly, and for far longer, than Malachai. She can see, too, the uncertainty in the eyes of the other pack members, at the upstart's sneer. She doesn't wait for Rattler and Malachai to bristle at the other wolf instead of each other. She steps forward smartly so she's standing slightly over the territorial line, right up in the guy's face and in his personal space. Fiercely she snarls up at him, "You dare insult me so?! I demand your submission -- now!" She's guessing on werewolf behavior there, but she's internally quite willing to personally take on this guy in a hierarchy-settling fight, instead of letting him whittle away Malachai's support like this. She actually likes the elder and his townfolk, even if he's seriously misunderstood his relationship with her. She also knows if Malachai is pushed into a battle for hierarchy in his pack... he'll be that much more riled up when he can finally turn his attention back to Rattler and herself.
Chanticleer mentally grimaces, and braces himself to prepare for whatever Suraksha might want of him. But her sharp command at the werewolf surprises even him, and his jaw drops a bit. Indeed, 'Chana's sudden apparent fury and demand of submission sends a ripple of uncertainty through both sides of the line. The townies are wondering if she's agreeing that she is the new alpha bitch. The caravaneers are quietly starting to herd the children away from what might become a fight. The upstart stands taller than 'Chana, but that's not unusual. He looks down at her and flashes her a grin that shows teeth too sharp to be entirely human, "Don't see why I should unless you actually are planning on being the old wolf's mate."
Chanticleer does not like this. He glances around, looking for Joe or another of the watchmen so he can signal discreetly to have a few watch for flankers, but for most of the rest to be ready for something ugly to happen here. He knows Suraksha can handle herself in a fight -- but if this turns ugly, numbers may be needed. Joe is nearby and nods back to Chanticleer, signaling that he's on it. Luckily, the townies seem to be respecting the boundary for the most part. The wolves are prowling closer, however. They know the start of a challenge when they hear it.
Suraksha's laughter is taunting, "Oh, yes, that's a good excuse to hide behind! Always best to pretend you're not a coward by yapping nonsense about not being able to attack a woman, right?" With flouncy mockery she crosses her arms in a ridiculous parody of his own gesture, then murmurs sweetly up at him, "Do you need to cower often behind excuses, puppy?" Suraksha's pronunciation of the word "puppy" fairly drips saccharine contempt. She has not noticed any females near this young upstart either, so she adds with cutting amusement, "Let me guess: you have trouble with women yourself, and you're trying to compensate for your... limp reputation, yes? Does that happen because strong women frighten you? Oh, that must be why you're assuming I'm someone else's property, mm?"
Chanticleer blinks again. If she's trying to provoke the hothead into a fight, she's doing a remarkable job of it. It doesn't help that there are one or two small snips of laughter from the townies, quickly hushed. The sidhe moves quietly towards Roy, trying to hopefully stave off the ex-king's almost certain urge to leap to Suraksha's defense both verbally and physically. Malachai starts to turn to the upstart, snapping, "Back down, pup. This fight is not yours."
Roy is still smirking as he says, "Best don' let ma cherie hear you tellin' her not to fight her own fights." He's not relaxed yet, but he looks relaxed to someone that doesn't know him -- who doesn't realize that he gets quieter the angrier he gets.
The young wolf's eyes blaze with embarrassed anger and he reaches out, pushing at 'Chana's shoulders with both hands, "Don't speak about things you know nothing about, outsider!" The way he says "outsider" sounds like a particularly vile curse.
Suraksha easily ducks under the shove, and when the young man stumbles a step or two forward onto the caravan's territory she nods grimly, "Challenge accepted. Come, time for you to bare your throat, puppy." She whirls to stride into the wide, grassy space between the nearest wagons and the edge of the field, then stands there facing the townies, fists on her hips as she snaps, "Come, come, don't keep us waiting, craven! Shake a tail." Her gaze flicks to Malachai and softens from the angry disgust she directed at the young wolf -- to quiet sternness, "Malachai, you must promise not to intervene, please. None of my people will; you and yours must not either."
Chanticleer murmurs to Roy, "That includes the both of us, too." Suraksha's gaze flicks over to check her people then, and she smiles at them -- she's glad most of them look unworried. Some of them, in fact, are quietly betting on how long it will take the wolf to surrender, which causes her to giggle. Roy grins at Chanticleer and drawls, "Hell, boah, I ain't gonna fight dat asshole for ma cherie. 'F I'm gonna fight, 's gonna be de big cheese." Suraksha grins and winks at Chanticleer and Roy, dimpling at her sweetheart. She has no idea that makes her look about 13 or 14 right now, standing there barefoot, loose-haired, and in nothing but a light, damp tunic.
Fantine comes running out of the wagon circle, holding one of the Hetaera's light wraps. Suraksha thanks her, and as Fantine holds the blanket so as to block her from view, Sura hastily switches clothes from the long tunic to the light wrap. She hugs Fantine, who returns the hug and then darts away again, and the small woman beams cheerfully at the growing crowd. "So, we ready here?"
Malachai is glowering in consternation at the upstart wolf and snapping, "Meshek. Keep hold of yourself!" To Roy he says, "Surely you aren't going to just let this happen?" Even as he's talking, though, the young townie man surges forward, his pride bruised too far for discretion. He's fast and he's lithe, but he's used to fighting other men.
Suraksha glances at Malachai and waves, apparently ignoring the incensed Meshek, "Ahem, Malachai, yoohoo! I'm over here, dear -- and only I decide whether I'm going to fight someone or not, please!" She is not actually insultingly disregarding her opponent -- she has him in the corner of her eye, and can see her godsmother clearly for signals -- but she's sure making it look like Meshek is so far beneath her notice that she's almost forgotten him!
Roy's grin broadens at Malachai, "Tole ya before: she fights 'er own fights. Might be best you put a muzzle on yo' dawg." Hearing himself called a dog, and the woman's apparent indifference to him, makes Meshek see red -- his lunge turns into a different motion as the change starts, overtaking him in his anger and frustration. Chanticleer tries to look mild and unconcerned, but the sudden charge can't be good; he tenses. If any of the other townies decide to take advantage of this, then he and his people will be ready.
Suraksha sighs in exasperation as the young townie falls to the ground and starts writhing in the change. "Well, darnit! I'd hoped to get this over quickly, but if he's going to waste time in changing..." She rolls her eyes and shakes her head, "Sorry, everyone. Might as well make ourselves comfortable for the next ten minutes."
Fantine calls from the sidelines, "Would mam'zelle perhaps like the cup of tea while waiting?"
That causes a quiet ripple of chuckles amongst the caravaneers, and Suraksha appears to be considering the offer for a few heartbeats... before she smiles and shakes her head, "No, but thank you, Fantine! It would be rude not to invite the puppy as well, and as you can see he can't use a proper teacup right now. Also, we unfortunately don't have a nice tea doggie bowl for him."
The change will indeed take a few minutes, so Malachai snaps to Rachel to fetch the pelt and fetch it now. If 'Chana is going to insist on doing something so foolish as to take on a fully-grown werewolf, he will make sure she is at least on level footing. Some of the townies are starting to get angry at the taunting and there are some murmurs about disrespect, but the older folk point out that Meshek is the one being foolish here. Malachai meanwhile decides his anger with Roy is secondary -- he is starting to strip down as well, preparatory to shifting himself to keep his young kinsman away from his mate long enough for her to have a chance to use the pelt.
At that, though, Suraksha takes several steps forward and throws out one hand in a commanding gesture, "No, Malachai! This is my battle and mine alone. I was the one insulted by being treated like property, and I am the one who demanded submission. Do not intervene!" She snaps to Rachel, "That means no pelt, you understand?" Malachai slowly seems to be grasping the idea that Suraksha might be irritated at him too over that. Rachel shakes her head in mute apology and takes off for the house. Malachai is still her alpha.
On the sidelines by the caravan Sna'tha is standing still and silent, her sharp-eyed gaze flicking back and forth. She nods once in approval as Chanti and Joe make sure the caravan is protected on all sides -- there's a quick drum of hoof beats as the Amazons shift position to guard the encampment's flanks. Near her, Alan is crouched by where Rattler leans casually against a barrel. The bodyguard is watching intently -- he knows something amazing is up and he doesn't want to miss a single step or throw! He's never seen any one person take down Guy, the werewolf back home, while he's in wolf form -- but from the casual way Sensei and Alan's boss are standing, his king's lover is apparently going to do something equivalent.
Seeing Meshek changing makes Chanti shake his head. "He's lucky we're not the backstabbing sort." [Or Unseelie], he mentally adds, which makes him almost crack up with how technically inaccurate that is. [Or from the Courts at all. They love getting at someone when they're vulnerable.]
Suraksha gives Malachai an exasperated look at Rachel's darting off. "Why didn't you stop the poor thing?"
Malachai says, "Because I can't let you fight him like that. And if he kills you while he's in that shape and you're human, I will have to kill him. It is one of the worst sins we can commit."
Suraksha shakes her head and says slowly and carefully, "Malachai. Not only do I categorically refuse to use the pelt... but you. May not. Fight my battles!" She turns and studies the young shifter, wondering if Rachel will get back before he is four-legged.
Malachai seems torn, but he's stopped stripping out of his clothes. Sna'tha tips her head to Chanticleer, suggesting the sidhe get close to the territorial border -- some of the wolves are starting to get restless as Meshek goes through his shift. Malachai is the quickest shifter of the townies, and he still takes a few minutes. Meshek takes more. Chanticleer nods almost imperceptibly to Sna'tha and moves closer to the border, standing ready. He doesn't stare down any of the town wolves, but he does remain present and ready, his sword visibly at his side. He glances around, then whispers to one of the runners to ask Sna'tha for something sharp and/or pointy, and silver. It only takes a moment or two for Chanticleer to have one of Sna'tha's poniards in his hands. The tall sidhe tests the balance of the poniard briefly before making it not as visible as being simply in his hand; that would be tantamount to waving a lit torch at someone, with this crowd.
Suraksha folds her arms as she turns and paces away from where Malachai stands. She stops some 20 feet away from Meshek, with plenty of space around them both, and studies the frothing, snapping creature with some pity as she waits. As he seems to be becoming more wolfish she calls calmingly to him, "Meshek, for the last time: you may simply yield, and I will think none the worse of you." She doesn't expect it to work, but she feels she really must give the poor boy a final chance... and she's starting to feel a touch guilty at the murmurs about her teasing too hard. In a way she feels sorry for Meshek; he truly has no idea that he's bitten off more than he can chew.
Meshek cannot really comprehend what's being said to him in this in-between state. The townies have seen it before, and those that know Guy in Baton Rouge have seen it a time or two as well, but this sort of shift both looks and sounds painful. Finally, however, Meshek is on his feet. Normally a shifting wolf will take some time to shake their fur into place and orient themselves, but this one doesn't. The moment he has all four feet beneath him, he's leaping at 'Chana, obviously uncaring of the tabu. Malachai is on-edge and starts over the boundary as Meshek leaps, snarling at the young wolf to stop right now! It's doubtful Meshek hears any of it.
Earlier, Suraksha slightly loosened her wrap's belt. As the wolf scrambles to his feet she crouches slightly, her golden-eyed gaze intense on Meshek. When the insanely furious wolf leaps with a screaming howl directly at his tormentor, several of the townies wince or groan, and some glance hastily away as the big wolf comes down, fangs bared, towards the tiny woman-
-who suddenly isn't there any more. Instead, exploding upwards with a deafening roar to meet the wolf, an enormous tiger catches him in both paws, knocking him back and down to the ground beneath her! The wolf's insane fury is eclipsed in a heartbeat into shrilly yelping, atavistic terror -- his tail is pinned flat against his upturned belly, which is pressed down under one massively clawed paw; his eyes are clenched shut, his throat completely bared -- the young wolf is so utterly shocked that the poor thing even pees submissively on himself!
Chanticleer briefly relaxes; he was pretty certain Suraksha would become the tigress to deal with Meshek, but now that she has there's very little the wolf can do to her. He turns his attention to the townies, lips in a thin line. He isn't daring them to do something; he's urging them silently not to. The townie wolves had started to surge forward, but the roar and shocking, instantaneous appearance of the tigress has startled them all. Alan too has surged to his feet, eyes huge. The caravaneers, however, are watching the display as if it is something they see every day. The bettors are upping the stakes now, while Malachai stares in stunned incredulity at the enormous tiger. There's a small spatter of tiny hands enthusiastically clapping, and a shrill, "Yay, Mommy!" The caravaneers chuckle, and there's a bit more relaxed applause and a friendly "Well played!" from someone else in the caravan.
Alan turns his stunned expression on Roy, who seems nonchalant about 'Chana's sudden change. He blinks and says almost accusingly, "You knew!"
Roy smirks, "'Course I knew."
Sna'tha is surreptitiously re-sheathing a silver dagger as she murmurs, "Of course he knew, Alan. Think about attacks during the times she was there."
Alan blinks slowly -- then snorts, "So that's how Moynahan got taken down."
Roy smirks again, "Well... wit' some help." Sna'tha raises an aristocratic eyebrow and gives a lady-like hmf! of disapproval at Rattler.
Alan shakes his head amusedly, "This is where dat whole t'ing about going out unguarded came from, ain't it?"
The slender sidhe snorts again. However, after a moment of thought, Sna'tha brushes a slender finger across her lips in a "shh" gesture as she glances inquiringly at Rattler. Tilting her head and flicking her gaze for an instant at Alan, she murmurs to the disguised king, "He knows to...?"
Rattler nods and turns to Alan, "You know to keep hush 'bout all dis, yeah?" Alan actually looks slightly offended, and then catches the glint of humor in Roy's eye and subsides.
Out on the dueling field, the big tiger growls once down at the wolf pinned under her big paw, her tail lashing slowly back and forth... then she raises her huge head and rakes the silent, stunned townies with a slow stare. The townies are all staring in shock and fascination. Malachai has already come across the territorial border -- he was invited, after all -- and is creeping toward 'Chana with something like pain on his face.
Suraksha turns her broad, striped head to watch Malachai's approach, then casually (and gently) bats the shrieking wolf away, back towards the other townies. The young wolf tumbles, his screeching cutting off, then scrambles to his feet and scuttles hastily away, still submissively terrified. The immense tiger glances back at the approaching Malachai, then sits and starts cleaning one paw so she doesn't look quite so fearsome. She's guessing Malachai, as an alpha of some decades, will not flee her -- but there's no reason to incite his betas to attack in his defense.
Malachai's tawny eyes are suspiciously damp in the torchlight and he blinks several times as he approaches. His heart is in his throat as he observes the enormous cat that sits where his diminutive mate was moments ago. He's shaking his head, heart aching as he says, "You... no wonder you were..." He shakes his head again, "I should have known when you were so big... but... what are you?"
Suraksha gives the elder a wry glance, but is too polite to suggest this is the pot calling the kettle black. Roy steps forward, his expression grim as he lays a hand on the enormous velvety head -- a foolhardy thing to do with a pure tiger -- and Suraksha rumbles affectionately and rubs her head against Rattler's side. He staggers slightly before he braces into her and snaps, "She's ma cherie an' th' momma t' my baby girl -- an' a honorable Hetaera who fulfill her contract wit' you even t'ough you drug her las' night!" This was not generally known amongst the caravaneers; there is a low murmur of disapproval.
Malachai stares almost blankly at Rattler for a moment -- then his eyes track away to Fantine as the shy woman murmurs softly from behind Rattler, "She is my bokor. She saved my life -- and then gave it back to me." More quiet, firm voices murmur reply as the caravaneers move forward to stand in a small semi-circle behind the big tiger, although they're careful to keep their encirclement respectfully open on one side, so as to not alarm the townies: a quietly growled, "She reminded me I was human," a thoughtful, "She's been mah inspiration most alla mah life, really," a heartfelt, "She saved me from mobsters and gave me a job!" a warmly amused, "She's my little sister of the heart -- even before she rescued me from kidnappers," a snarled, "Alg's pretty lady!" and a snapped, "She's my godsdaughter and don't you forget it, young man!" Giggling youngsters bouncing together call out, "Auntie Sura taught us tumblin' 'n how ta dance, cuzza Momma 'n Uncle Alex taught her 'bout pickpock- ow!"
From the back of a restless pony at the corner of the encampment an Amazon calls out, "She's Mama Nightmane and we follow her because she takes care of her clan, of course!" There's a startling sort of gurgling squeal, and the girl on top of the elephant -- so large that it even makes the tiger look smaller, as it paces out of the the shadows of the encircling wagons -- laughs and says, "Gajara says she's the Matriarch!" Caravaneers are smiling and nodding as they murmur together, and Fantine is offering the tiger her tunic again; Suraksha steps back a bit as the little loogaroo slides between the awed townies and the tiger's head, holding up a blanket so the smaller woman can change shape and outfit again.
Chanticleer bristles a little at Malachai's comment. "What are you?" he says, in a tone that seems to indicate: 'there's a lot of strange people in the world; does this matter?' But as others say what she is to them, he adds, "She is the owner, protector, and guardian of this caravan -- and I would follow her into Niagara, and into the Bayou, into the Great Plains... and even back into Faery." He shakes out his hair then, letting the glamour drop. There are gasps from the townies as Chanti's glamour drops and they see the rooster sidhe in his true form. Chanti's act of exposure causes several others of the caravaneers to drop their own glamours and step forward as well. Malachai doesn't lower his eyes -- it is not in his nature to do so -- but he is looking from face to face slowly, trying to take all this in.
Suraksha is in human shape now, pulling her ebony waterfall of hair free of her tunic's collar and tidying herself up with Fantine's help -- and like Rattler, Malachai's besotted gaze is, for the moment, all for his beloved. He almost misses the small, fierce voice as two young children dart protectively in front of Rattler and Suraksha, glaring up at Malachai. They're both much less than ten years of age, one with Suraksha's midnight hair and the other with the white gold of the Sokoloff grandkids. The smaller one, Rohana, clenches her fists and snaps, "She's our Momma n' Auntie an' you can't have her!" This causes some affectionate chuckles in the caravan and even a couple of quiet smiles from the townies.
Malachai falls silent, sadness on his face and a couple of tears sliding down his cheeks as he goes to one knee. They look so different. Surely one of them is adopted... and the other is the dark-haired man's? He speaks gently, used to dealing with children, "Mates belong together, little ones."
Malachai is interrupted by a slightly restless movement from Rattler, but this time it's the newly-arrived small girl of about 3 or 4 years who is holding on to Rattler's leg as she speaks. She's hugging a much-loved, floppy stuffed animal with the other arm, and her voice is gravely sweet as she pipes up, "Mommy b'longs to us, mister wolf. But we share sometimes... if you know the magic word."
[Previous Log] [Index] [Next Log]