| Logs |
2010 December 18
| Neverneverwhere |
| Realms |
Retired
| Reality Fault |
General Info
 |
| Realms: Taps Logs |
Can't Fight This Feeling
Bradley stays away that night, despite the siren-call of Sulochana's hungers and sweetness. He knows she will need the time to recuperate, and that her people are going to want to glower at him. Instead he spends the time preparing his thanks. Diana stays home for the first night in a while, and even the girl notices her papa is distracted. She giggles and sighs in the way only very young girls can get away with when she thinks her father might have a crush on the very pretty lady. When Bringer tucks her in she asks him if Sulochana will be coming back, and he sadly lets her know the previous night was probably the last night the lady will be able to spend in town, as the caravan is moving on. He doesn't realize his comment is mixing in the girl's head with other observations, to nudge her toward making a rather precipitous decision.
All through the next day he frets and works on his thanks for her, hoping she will still be in reach with the coming sunset. Up on the mountainside the caravan indeed does not get very far that day. Not only are people worried for Suraksha, but several folks imbibed a bit heavily during the day-after party... they're more than happy to not rush, so they can nurse their hangovers in peace. That gives Fantine -- and several other people -- a chance to do laundry, and so the camp that night is almost festively bedecked with drying wash hanging from wagon to wagon.
Bradley returns to the caravan with a package wrapped in plain brown paper and tied with twine. He pauses at the edge of the caravan's campsite and smiles to himself at the way the laundry looks like the bunting and streamers used for town celebrations. He knows some of the caravan folk are going to be grumpy with him for exhausting Sulochana as he did, so he waits for one of the sentries to happen upon him.
It's Alexander Sokoloff who comes walking through the darkness to him, the big dog next to him snarling. The slight young man holds up the lantern, then raises an eyebrow as he nods once, "Mr. Bradley." He glances over his shoulder, then studies the manitou for a moment, his pale blonde hair shimmering in the firelight... then he grins and tilts his head, "C'mon! I know who you want to see." He waves to alert the next person down the line, who swings her lantern once in acknowledgment, then leads the manitou in. His voice is soft, "She's doing fine."
Bradley breathes out a sigh of relief and nods brusquely, "I'm pleased to hear it. I... didn't come to seek her services. I simply wished to give her something and to perhaps stay with her as she rests."
Alexander grins over his shoulder at Bradley, "I know." He doesn't say anything else, instead walking Bradley to the edge of the wagon ring and waving inwards, "There you go. I need to go back. Good luck!" He laughs softly and paces quietly back out into the darkness. From within the wagon ring several folks look up alertly at Bradley, with varying degrees of curiosity, interest, expressionlessness, grimness, or downright anger.
Bradley has carefully dressed down for the night in trousers, bracers, and a work shirt. He wants to reassure the caravaneers he has not come a-courting. He has met such hostile crowds before and he asks politely, "Is Sulochana asleep?"
Straightening up abruptly from where she was scooping stew into a bowl, Sna'tha's face is dark with anger. Fantine looks a bit frightened, although that's not uncommon for her; Sabrina smiles at the manitou. Little Joe continues strumming his guitar, and Buddy snorts, then growls and goes back to spooning out food for the young people gathered around him. Ohkwa rumbles calmly around his pipe, "Yup," and Sna'tha snarls at him for even talking to Bradley! The manitou gives the sidhe a faint smile, and the woman sighs, then turns and snarls worriedly at Bradley too -- has he no sense of propriety? Timing? Decency?! It's Chanticleer, interestingly, who puts a gentle hand on one of Sna'tha's arms, murmuring quietly to her. She listens, then growls exasperatedly, "All right, all right." She hands him the bowl, then folds all four arms and glares at the manitou, "Now what?"
Bradley bristles slightly and his sense of pride makes him want to snarl back. It's on the tip of his tongue to do so, but he realizes this woman is a gatekeeper at the moment and one must sometimes bribe gatekeepers. He takes a deep breath and says, "I don't wish to impose myself upon her. I simply wished to bring her a token of my esteem and perhaps spend some time with her as she rests. The last thing I wish to do is tax her further while she recovers. She did me a great service and an enormous favor last night. I was badly weakened by getting caught by the dawn."
Sna'tha looks indignant and horrified, drawing breath -- and Sabrina smiles as she rises to give the sidhe woman a gentle hug. Sna'tha looks slightly exasperated as the other woman grins around the tall woman's shoulder, "Good evening to you, Mr. Bradley. Please forgive us for being concerned for Sulochana; she clearly thinks very highly of you." Sna'tha looks sour and mutters something under her breath about silly young girls, and Sabrina grins, hugging Sna'tha again before she says encouragingly, "Come on, Sna'tha -- you know her feelings would be hurt if we turned him away." The small audience watches with grim interest, quiet amusement, or rueful agreement, as the sidhe finally sighs and turns towards the wagon, muttering gracelessly, "Oh, all right, he can sit with her-" she glances back, glaring over her shoulder as she snaps, "But no waking her up!"
Bradley again has to rein in his urge to snap back and defend himself verbally; luckily he has had all those years of practice in controlling himself. Solemnly he nods, "I promise not to disturb her. I will be happy to simply wait out the night with her as she sleeps. If she wakes on her own, I'll give her my little token. If not, I will leave it."
Ohkwari rises, padding silently over to rest a hand on the sidhe woman's shoulder, "He'll be fine with her, Sna'tha. Go rest. I'll keep watch." For only a fraction of an instant Sna'tha's emotions are clear on her face -- the worry, the affection, the fear for her godsdaughter as she looks up at the massive man -- then she simply nods and turns away, not looking at Bradley. Sabrina smiles over her shoulder encouragingly at Bradley as she leaves with Sna'tha. Ohkwari glances over at Bradley, tilting his head towards the wagon in silent invitation.
Bradley inclines his head in thanks and slips into the wagon. Once there he carefully sets the small parcel down on the little fold-away desk, before settling on the stool that sits by the lady's bunk. From the foot of her bed Alg opens slightly glowing eyes, where he's tightly curled up. He studies the manitou for a second, bares his jagged teeth once in silent warning... then relaxes and lets his eyelids mostly close after letting the manitou know he means business.
Bradley's heart clenches slightly at the innocent loveliness of his lady-priestess in repose; then he carefully takes her hand, to hold it while she sleeps. Sulochana's lashes are dark against her exhaustion-pale face, and she sighs softly, her eyelids fluttering a bit. She blinks groggily at the figure next to her for a moment, trying to figure out who it is... then she realizes it's Bringer, and he can feel the wash of relief flood through her. She smiles in weary sweetness and relaxes again, her fingers squeezing lightly against his for a heartbeat. The manitou's heart leaps into his throat as her eyes flutter open, and a wash of dulcet happiness floods through him as he realizes she recognizes him despite her grogginess. As promised, he sits with her through the night as she sleeps, rising only when he feels dawn approaching; he does not want to get trapped again.
Ohkwari quietly cracks the door at about that time, also concerned for the other manitou. He nods and steps out of the way -- the tiny porch really isn't big enough for both of them -- so Bradley can exit successfully. Alg silently watches Bradley exit... although this time the goblin seems less warning and more relaxed. Apparently making Sulochana happy makes Alg happy too. Bradley nods silently to Ohkwa and looks around, taking a deep and reluctant breath as he steps into shadow and away. He makes it home safely with the aching surety that his lovely priestess will be out of his reach with the next sunset.
It's late morning by the time Suraksha wakes up and doesn't feel groggy. She can feel the wagon moving, and Alg sits up and brightens as she pushes herself up on an elbow and looks around. "Pretty lady better now! Alg guard." The goblin looks around, then reaches for an object on the desk as Fantine smiles shyly at Sura and offers her a dipper of water. There's a small basket next to the loogaroo filled with tasty smelling food as well. The package is perhaps four inches wide, six tall and an inch or so thick. After some food and water, Sura looks down at the twine-and-paper wrapped package in her lap. "What's this?" Fantine looks mystified, shaking her head; Alg yawns and curls back up at the foot of the bed, his voice matter-of-fact, "Lady's. Blood-smell-man return it."
Suraksha blinks bemusedly, "Blood-smell... do you mean Mr. Bradley, Alg?" The goblin snorts relaxedly and nods, his eyes already drifting closed again, and Sura laughs softly, stroking Alg affectionately before she grins and says to Fantine, "How exciting! Let's see what it is!" She unwraps it carefully, her eyes bright with happiness. Fantine is watching interestedly as well, leaning forward to see. Inside the packing paper is a small book, canvas covered and with only a few dozen pages. Like most modern books, the pages are hand-sewn into the cover and the paper itself has the rough and sensual texture of being hand-made. On its pages, written in a lovely and flowing script, are excepts from the book of Shakespeare in Bringer's library. He has copied out the entirety of A Midsummer Night's Dream, and several of the excerpts which they quoted one another the night she saw his library. Inside the front cover is an inscription: "A token by which to remember how a hunger can be a good thing. -B"
Suraksha's breath catches as she studies the exquisite little gift, and her eyes fill with tears. Her slender fingers stroke the beautiful paper almost reverently as she murmurs softly, "Oh, Bringer! This is... gorgeous! I wish... I wish I could thank you in person for this." She sniffs, smiling through the tears, and adds to Fantine's anxious look, "He's a dear, kind man. I'm going to miss him."
Several hours later, Sulochana is up and dressed. She's sitting on the driver's bench of her wagon next to Fantine, happily reading aloud to them both from the beautiful little book as the loogaroo guides a laconic Amanda along the path up the mountainside. The Hetaera has been given strict instructions to only rest and recover -- and to let other people do the work for a bit! 'Chana is also silently and surreptitiously watching for the big boulder which marks the edge of Bradley's territory. As it draws slowly closer and closer through the day, and the wagon train continues winding gradually but determinedly up the mountain's side, the young woman realizes she's not going to get a chance to thank Bradley in person for his extraordinarily generous gifts to her. When her little painted wagon passes the huge, snow-capped rock, Sulochana's expression is wistful for a moment, and she glances back towards Roseville, down the still snowy-patched mountain's springtime flank.
For a moment she considers calling a halt here for the night -- but then she looks up and realizes there's still several hours of daylight left. The entire caravan held for a day, for her... she cannot in good conscience delay them further. She sighs softly, turning to face determinedly forward again... but also sends a small, slightly wistful prayer of sensual affection, thanks, and continued strength back to the still light-bound manitou in the town behind her. She smiles pensively to herself. Maybe she'll read aloud from the book tonight for those of her family who would appreciate it. She'd like them to know how kind the manitou was, as well.
Back in Roseville, Bradley waits out the daylight in unusual restlessness. He sits in on Diana's music lessons, even though it means keeping all the blinds carefully closed -- which causes no small amount of consternation to the teacher. He moves from room to light-tight room in the house, almost prowling, and reaching out with his senses from time to time to judge how long until it is safe to go abroad. He has been considering throughout the day; he knows how caravans time their travels -- he has, after all, been in the business of trading for many years now. Caravans starting out from this coast will be moving through Donner Pass for the next several months, hoping to make it through the Great Desert in the milder parts of the year; to not get stuck in the months when all there is are days of searing heat and nights of chilling cold. They will travel to the east coast and try to ride out next winter there before turning back west with the goal of squeaking through the Pass again just before winter closes it down.
The manitou wonders if he can convince them to stay for longer when they return in two years or so. Of course, he considers, that is going to mean rather a large change in the politics of the town. It is not a prospect to which he looks forward. He does not like to put himself into the public eye, but Aurelias' reign really can't last very long if the town is to survive -- if Bradley himself is to survive in the town. When the sun finally sets he nearly bursts forth from the house and into the shadows. Is she still within the bounds of his territory? He knows her route and flies along it, moving slowly enough to make sure he doesn't overshoot them if they are there, but quickly enough to catch them if they are at the far edge.
Halfway there he switches to his native form, wanting to conserve all his energy for traveling -- even though he knows in the pit of his stomach she has outstripped him... perhaps a messenger in the morning, to send his fervent regards and maybe ask some token from her in return -- a small, tangible remembrance to hold onto in the intervening years when his hungers will be banked and his nights empty of the holy woman's passion.
Further up the mountain, the caravan is successfully encamped and in good cheer -- they should be through the pass in a day or two! After that it's mostly a steep downhill, and then much easier going. There's an air of quietly pleased anticipation; Donner Pass is a significant roadmark on the route, after all.
As the manitou emerges from shadow at the boulder that marks his territory, he cries out -- the achingly lonely call of a hunting owl in the twilight. His hands are up, pressing against the insubstantial border that holds him back. It is not a solid wall, more like the wall of a balloon: it can be pressed against, pressed out with great will and strength. He looks longingly along the road and blinks slowly. What he'd taken at first for the glint of stars in the crisp spring air is firelight. His heart leaps and he hoots eagerly, the sound echoing through the trees. Could that be the fires of the caravan?
Drifting on the night air with the curious clarity one sometimes gets on foggy mountainsides, he can hear short snatches of the soft strum of a guitar and the clear purity of a woman's singing voice. A welter of emotions flares in his breast and he cries out in the voice of the owl again: hope and fear and need and longing echoing on the night breezes. They're so close. She is so close. It shivers through every fiber of him and he wonders: is it possible he can reach her? If it can be done, it will be difficult, but he must try. The manitou puts his hands against the barrier and leans, eyes closing as he pours all his will into pushing. It's not that far. He remembers this land. The land for leagues around here belonged to him once. Maybe, he prays, it remembers him.
As he leans against the soap-bubble wall, he feels it giving before him, stretching out. At the same time he feels the whole sphere of his influence trying to enlarge. He throws his head back and almost crows his exultation. He has not been strong enough to reclaim territory in at least decades. Putting his head down and letting all thoughts outside reaching the edge of the camp fade away, he begins to push. He moves with the implacable singlemindedness of an ox opening the land in the spring, pulling a plow behind him -- but this ox is an owl, and what he opens up the land for is far more primal. Every step takes a supreme effort. He is not simply creating a tunnel through which to meet the caravan; he is widening his territory as a whole. The places that are all not already filled up by someone else are starting to be pulled into his demesne. He almost has to claw his way along and he can feel how much of his newfound strength will be spent to do this. But he does not care! A hunger long thought dead has rekindled, whispering of the desire to explore further.
At the encampment people are relaxing, resting, finishing off dinner, chatting and enjoying each other's company; it's been a good day, and everyone is relieved to see Suraksha is better again. She does her best to reassure everyone, carefully not glancing back at Roseville as she'd like to, and when Fantine shyly asks, the tiger-woman is happy to read some Shakespeare to those who'd like to listen. Consequently she's as shocked and alarmed as everyone else when the dogs suddenly go crazy, and Emmett comes running in, gasping something about an incoming... nightmare?! Everyone is on their feet, gathering weapons, torches, staring worriedly...
When Suraksha spots the straining figure, she recognizes him -- or thinks she does -- but... that's impossible -- he can't be here! ...can he? She glances over to Ohkwa, her eyes wide, "Is that -- is it Bradley?!" The bear-manitou is already in bear form, bounding forward with startling lightness for his massive bulk. He stands at the edge of the firelight and roars in warning -- his family, his territory! He shakes his massive head uncertainly at Suraksha's query; he's never heard of this happening before... but to be fair, he's no longer that familiar now with how the few remaining bigger, more conceptual manitou behave. Striding forward, shaking his heavy horned head and bellowing in anger, Buddy comes swinging his huge axe, and Suraksha can see both Alg and Sna'tha leaping up onto rooftops, while Chanticleer draws his shining sword and steps forward as well. Others are picking up crossbows and other weapons, or hustling away children, and the dogs are howling and making short, snapping dashes forward at the straining dark shape.
In the uncertain shadows of the firelight, the oncoming being looks misshapen and horrifying. The flaring wings make his shoulders look too large and his head is obviously not human. The spread and straining arms and the trembling in the whole form look like something maddened stalking toward them. Truly, however, it is simply the terrific strain of pushing against all the years of stagnation and stillness, all the time Bringer has held his hungers in abeyance and been restrained by that. For leagues around, the edges of his territory are pushing outward, sliding back over land where he used to roam freely. Every foot, every inch, costs him dearly.
As he hears the sounds of the caravan and their mobilization, the manitou raises his head, golden eyes gleaming in the shadows around him, throwing back glints of gold at the firelight of the encampment. He spots Suraksha and his heart surges in his chest, making it feel as if his entire being is lighter. Fingers claw at the edge of his territory, pushing through as if swimming through half-congealed syrup. He screeches heartbreakingly. He can feel how much of his new-found strength has been used to get this far -- but she is so close! It is like looking across a mile-deep chasm at the lights of home.
The huge bear darts around to behind the nightmare figure, snuffing heavily -- then he lumbers hastily back to Suraksha, communicating with her. She's sure it's Bringer by now, though. As she tells Bear, the solar plexus chakra is going crazy inside the entity, and both the heart and crown chakras are flaring madly as well... so unless some doppelganger can copy Bringer's insides as well as his outsides, Ohkwari is simply confirming for her. Her wide-eyed gaze is on the struggling figure as she waves an arm, shouting to the others to back off, and for Buddy and Chanti to protect them -- it's all right! She takes a deep breath then, a bit nervous... then she smiles at Ohkwa, murmuring, "All right, here I go. Back me up, please, if necessary?" She steps forward, holding her hands out towards the night creature... then waits for him. She's not sure precisely what is happening, but this struggle is clearly of enormous significance.
When she steps forward and holds her hands out toward him, Bringer of Night and Passion calls again, the sound somewhere between a sob and a screech. So close! And she is awaiting him, beckoning with eyes and arms. With a terrible effort he shoves outward, making his territory push out those last few feet -- but it is a 'last few feet' in an enormous circle, making each step cover miles. A few more steps and he stumbles to his knees, just feet away from his priestess. Even in this form the longing and exhaustion in his eyes is clear. He holds out his hands, wings flared wide as he reaches desperately for her. He does not think he can go an inch more.
Buddy sways slowly back and forth on his heavy cloven hooves, his gusty snorting uneasy. Next to him Chanticleer is a smaller, slim, dark figure holding a shining sword, standing utterly still as he too watches. Behind them their audience falls silent, mesmerized by the power of the struggle they're witnessing. Even the giant, worried bear calms a bit as he watches from behind the tiny woman. She steps forward lightly, reaching out her hands to rest them gently on the manitou, and her voice is soft, "Bringer? It's all right, sweet man... I don't know what's going on, but you're safe..." She continues her calming speech with quiet reassurance, her slender fingers stroking through the ruffled feathers as she wraps her arms about him.
Bringer wraps his arms around Sulochana's waist and the manitou's native form melts into his human one as he sobs against her stomach, whispering in the lilting and sweet language of the people that used to walk this land. The small woman strokes his hair, her fingers running gently through the sweaty strands, and holds him as he slowly recovers. Without looking away from Bringer she murmurs, "It's all right, Ohkwa. You can tell everyone to stand down," and then her voice continues its soft, soothing reassurance. She doesn't know what the ancient manitou is saying, but she can't help responding to his clear need.
After a moment he pushes himself to his feet. The steel soap-bubble of his territorial border shivers along their skin as he wraps his arms around her, lifting her up into a kiss that pours over her. It carries his hunger, the effort it took him to come to her, and the delicate dark watercolor of the world seen as shadows. When it finally breaks he whispers, "Please come back to me when you can?"
Suraksha is breathless, clinging dizzily to Bringer for a few heartbeats after that kiss. When she can speak again -- she has to clear her throat first -- she murmurs huskily, "I -- I'd be a fool not to, sweet man!" She's feeling a bit shaky from his intensity; it's rather like being drunk. Suraksha is a bit relieved he's asking her to return, though; she'd been a bit worried he'd poured out that effort to come 'retrieve' her. She's very, very fond of him... but she can't stay. She has a caravan family. She's glad he seems to understand that.
When he's better, Suraksha will help him rise, getting a shoulder under his arm and assisting him to her wagon. The manitou leans on the Hetaera as he's escorted there. Fortunately it's on the side of the circle he came from; she gets him seated on the tiny back porch and brings out blankets and furs to wrap around them both, cuddling him up against her. She hums softly, stroking his hair and waiting until he's ready to talk. He slumps and breathes deeply to try and recover some energy. Passing out doesn't seem to be a danger, but he is exhausted.
Suraksha has water brought for him, and a hot bowl of stew if he wants. She doesn't know how else to help him resuscitate except for giving him blood... but that thought makes her insides tighten up with nervousness. She'll try all the other options she has before she'll consider that one. For now she just continues to sit with him, make sure he's warm and comforted and cared for... and cuddle him. It takes some time for Bringer to be mobile again. He devours the stew and pours half a gallon of water into himself. When he is a little more coherent he smiles with heavy-lidded eyes at Suraksha and murmurs, "I am sorry to intrude." There's an obvious dry sense of humor in his words.
Suraksha sighs and smiles, shaking her head amusedly before she hugs him tightly and leans her forehead against him. She murmurs, "You scared us to death, silly man. I'm still confused, though. I thought you said that big white boulder was the marker for the edge of your territory."
Bringer's voice is a little croaky as he laughs and says with dizzy, exhausted triumph, "It was! But you were so close!" The longing and determination whisper through the words.
Suraksha looks confused, "What do you mean, sweetheart? We're about... oh, a mile, mile and a half past it." There's a hint of regret in her voice as she adds, "I watched it... all day long. I was hoping we'd stop before then, but..." She adds more worriedly, "Is everything all right? You've not been displaced or anything, have you?" Then she blinks as his words register, saying slowly, "You... you grew your territory?! Like I was asking about?" Her face lights up hopefully.
Bringer laughs happily at the joy in her face at the realization. He wraps her up in his arms, still feeling like he is not sitting squarely in his body, "You gave the strength! Oh, blessings on you. Blessings on you, Sulochana Xopuchmata!" He kisses her intently for a moment or two. "Blessings on your house, Sulochana, the Woman of the Fiery Kiss!" He is almost chanting, almost singing. It is clearly a ritual.
Suraksha looks shocked for a moment, returning the hugs automatically -- then she gets lost in the kisses. She has to blink a few times to regain focus after that, her golden-eyed gaze smoky with growing passion -- and then her eyes widen in shock again as she listens, clinging tightly to him under the blankets wrapped around them both. He's naming her -- this ancient being is gifting her with a Name! She laughs shakily, her eyes filling with tears of happiness, and hugs Bringer tightly, "Oh, Bringer -- thank you! Thank you! This is -- I mean -- no, you can tell, can't you?" She kisses him hard and fierce and passionately, trying to share her near ecstasy at having so wonderfully earned another Name. When she has to pause for breath her eyes are shimmering in the firelight, and her lips curl in a small, joyous smile, "You can feel it, can't you?" She sniffs, rubbing her eyes, then smiles shakily at him again, whispering, "Thank you, wonderful man."
Bringer smiles and rests his hands on her hips as she pours all of that into him. He makes a happy sound, like a large humanoid cat, as he soaks up all the loveliness. The manitou seems a little stronger after every kiss, "Thank you. You have given me back much."
Suraksha tilts her head thoughtfully, still smiling. Her eyes are bright with pleasure as she asks, "Is it just me, or are you strengthening as we cuddle here?" She grins, raising one hand to trace gently affectionate fingers along the curve of his cheek, her voice teasing, "Did you use up most all of your strength getting here, silly? Am I going to have to do naughty things with you to make sure you can get home safely?"
He laughs throatily and slides a hand along her side beneath the blankets until it rests spread-fingered on her hip, "You aren't obligated to, but it would surely help me recover from the effort it took to come ask you for some small token of remembrance. Something small to hold me through until your return?"
Sulochana smiles slowly, "Let me think about it, all right?"
It takes curling up with her for a while, her slim form pressed close and her silky hair tangled through his fingers, to recover more fully. Bringer of Night and Passion tells her with quiet joy of this amazing feat of expanding his demesne, of increasing his power base -- which she inspired! -his priestess and holy muse. He sings softly to her of night and passion, of male and female, of slow dying and the realization of creeping anomie -- followed by the struggle, the fight to regain fierce passion, to live once more! -that she's unwittingly gifted to him...
The two lovers end up spending the night together, unplanned and unstructured. She's still concerned for him, so he steps them through shadows to his home, bringing the night and passion together for her just as the two of them bring together male and female, deity and priestess, creator and muse, into a spiritual supernatural gestalt where the whole is somehow greater than its independent parts.
Well before dawn the manitou gathers her close against him with melancholy pleasure, returning her safely to her wagon. He lays her gently down on her little fold-away bunk, kneels to share one last kiss with her... and then, before he vanishes for good that year, she gives him one last precious thing to remember her by. With gratitude and affection for all he has become for her, for all they have shared, she gives him a very personal token: she cuts for him a long, thin braid of her hair, bound at the ends with silken ribbon and still smelling faintly of her. Bringer ties the silky little braid around his wrist for his journey back to his home. He must make sure in the next two years to make his territory a good place for his priestess to return.
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