Private Tales Forastero

A private roleplay only for those invited by the first writer
How dare he.

Amore's scowl deepened and she wished she could see him simply for the need to concentrate her heated glare upon him properly. He lied. He took her from her people, and now he intended to kidnap her to his homeland?

"NO." it wasn't a shout, but it was forceful.
 
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“Okay.”

He approached the horse’s side, and looked up at the Priestess. Without a word or warning, he rose on his toes and grabbed her on either side of her waist. Despite some struggling and the awkwardness of their positions, he somehow managed to pull Amore off the mount and set her on the ground without dropping her.

Hesitantly, as if he had handled something dangerous (he did), he removed his hands from her sides. Kishou looked down on her now.

“Please do not make me take it.”
 
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Being pulled off the horse was less offensive than it was jarring and the Priestess' feet hit the ground with an audible sound of discomfort. Her limbs and back smarted stiffly, the shock of impact running from through her heels and into her spine like a heated lance. She faltered where she stood, purposefully turning her head as if to look away from the sound of his voice.

The seething anger in her chest coiled like a viper and it drove her to do something she never thought she'd feel the desire to do: lash out at Kishou. Feeling his hands drawing away from her waist her own seized his arms by the wrists, yanking the man forward into knee aimed at his groin. Amore couldn't see and she was only at a fraction of her previous strength, but like hell was she going to let him take her away from her duty and her family without a fight.
 
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Kishou's eyes widened and he quietly gasped as she yanked him forward. He turned his hips and grunted when a bony knee struck his lower abdomen and, thankfully, not his groin.

"Oomph-! Please!" The swordsman twisted his arms and reversed the Priestess' grip, now holding her wrists. "Do not make this difficult."
 
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Amore grimaced, silver gaze switching upwards to follow his voice before -

BAM

She forcefully headbutted his face with her forehead, aiming to break his nose.
 
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She would have felt a satisfying crunch as forehead met nose. Kishou stepped back, a river of blood flowing over his lips and chin, eyes watering. His fingers tenderly felt the bridge of his nose, which was grotesquely bent.

"Fuck!" It was both the first time he'd ever raised his voice or used profane language in Amore's presence.

In a small part of anger, but largely out of urgency, he roughly grabbed her bicep and yanked her towards him. His free hand pulled up the sleeve covering the arm he held. Nothing on her wrist. The same free hand felt around her waist for any pouches but came up short.

"Just give me the key!"
 
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Wasn't like Amore to relish in the pain of others but the crunch of his nose and the sudden sound of profanity hitting his teeth did bring a modicum of gratification. That moment was short-lived. As soon as she felt the vice of his hand at her arm an explosion of furious Cortosi left her lips. It was fast, it was forceful, and it was heated with ire.

Struggling to get away and finding she was no match at all for his greater size and strength, she swore biblical curses at the man in her native tongue. In the midst of the encounter she felt her boot shift against his foot and promptly made to stomp upon it with her heel, hard.
 
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As the hard heel of her boot came down on his foot, profanities in his mother tongue rushed forth like a raging river.

"You are so difficult!" He growled and shook her again. "Kuso!" he swore.

His grip around her bicep tightened, and jaw muscles dance as his teeth ground together.

"Are. You. Going. To. Give. Me. The. Key?" in between every word, he gave her a rough jostle, his anger finally getting the better of him.
 
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She was not difficult, she was spirited and willful and unafraid.

Kishou shook her and it only drove her rising fury to a peak. The Priestess had been trained not to lead with emotion, never to let it overcome her senses, but the frailty of her current state and the desperation she felt given her current situation was overwhelming all manner of composure.

A roaring yell tore from her throat as she twisted with her free arm and reached to grab for one of the two swords that always hung at his left waist. Fingers clamped down on a hilt and pulled the blade free, a sudden sensation of familiarity with the weight and balance coiling up her arm. The blade, of course wasn't made for her. It was heavier than her own had been, and longer as well. This didn't stop her - she knew how to use it expertly and perhaps that would be enough to drive him off her. To stall for time until the guards caught up.
 
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The annoyance that was the struggle with the Priestess suddenly became very serious. By the time he realized the sword being drawn from its sheath, he was too late to stop her. The longer of the two blades was in her hand, and he let her bicep go and took a large step back.

He let out a shaky breath. Anger was replaced by anxiety and his hairs stood on end.

"Amore." He called out to her by her name for the first time. "Give me the sword."
 
"Do not!" the words flew from her lips fervently as she took up a defensive stance, moonlit gaze glaring off to one side, "Do not speak my name! I am a Priestess of the Solar Choir and you have no right-" she slowly shook her head, frown deepening, "you do not even have a faith to speak of!"

"How dare you ... how dare you!"
 
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Kishou bit the inside of his lip as he listened to words that stung worse than his nose or foot. He raised his hands and took a defensive posture.

"Because I do not pray, does that make me a lesser man?" he softly asked, then raised his voice, "I can not even say the name of my friend? Is that how you view me?"

He circled the priestess, his feet sliding over the rock around the portal stone, then passing over dirt.

"Poor, dumb, ignorant Forastero," he imitated the Cortosi accent, his anger rising, and with it, the politeness he maintained over several months faded away. "Even if you could see now, you would still be blind!"
 
"Don't you turn this on me!" brows furrowed, the woman's head tilted at the sound of his sandals scraping over dirt, "You lied to me - you're trying to take me from my people, my family, my honor!"

"What kind of friend does this?!"
She shifted her stance, turning to face where she heard him last, trying not to let the dawning hopelessness the lack of vision engendered show. This ... this would never work. She would never serve as a Sword of the Church again and that thought sank into the pit of her stomach like a ball of molten steel.

"I am not running from my home," her hands reaffirmed their grip on the sword, ears straining to hear, "or my duty to my people."

Then, in the distance back from the way they had come, the faint sound of horses moving at speed. The guard was on its way.
 
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"No, you are not running," his tone settled. The sound of beating hooves rose. He had several seconds; less than a minute. He had much more to say, but the time for talking had been spent.

"I am taking you."

Even as the sound of galloping horses became louder, Kishou kicking the dirt as he lunged forward was not drowned out. He waited for her to swing his sword, and with a steeled resolve and keen senses, intended to catch the hilt of the sword and throw the Priestess over his shoulder.
 
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Amore was swift and accurate, but terribly out of her element when it came to fighting blindly. Kishou managed to do just as he sought to, snaring the hilt and her hand and tossing her bodily off her feet. She landed in a heap with a yelp, the air soundly flushed from her lungs. Sputtering, fingers still stubbornly clamped around the hilt of the sword but body too much overcome with the shock of pain and weakness to do anything with it, Amore rolled to her side.

There, just at the collar of her robes, the gleam of the medallion that hung around her neck; the Portal Stone Key.

"...no," a wheeze, arms trying to push herself up again.
 
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A shaky but sharp exhalation escaped his lips. Kishou did not hesitate a moment before prying the sword from her small hands, and he did not fail to notice the medallion that hung out now.

He pulled the horse in the circle and then lifted Amore to her feet. He half-dragged, half-carried her into the ring, and yanked the necklace from her person.

"Sorry," he muttered, ironic since he just flipped her over. He touched the key to the stone, then went and touched the proper destination rune.

Before he could make sense of what happened, they were gone, far from the guards, far from Cortos, and possibly far from ever mending a broken friendship.

The heat was oppressive, the humidity heavy and suffocating. The sun that roared above in a cloudless sky showed no mercy on the pair as its warm rays shone on them. Cicadas buzzed nearby; their sound was obnoxiously loud. It was summer in Oboroshima.

Kishou felt several emotions at once and forgot that he held Amore's arm.
 
More heated Cortosi spilled from her lips, growing louder as the sound of approaching hoofbeats did. Maybe, just maybe, they'd get there in time to stop him. Amore struggled against him but she simply didn't have the strength to get away. As he tore the medallion from her neck she felt her heart sank, "No-" the Priestess shook her head, furiously terrified of what was about to happen next, "NOO!"

Her yell cut out as they disappeared from sight, the last medallion in her possession used to take her to a land so very far away from her home.

The humidity and scent of summer was a shock. All around them the noises of a foreign land teemed a an unfamiliar chorus. Amore breathed a hoarse gasp, half clinging to the man that had dragged her away from any hope of returning home.

"What have you done..." she murmured, eyes searching blindly, breath hitching in her lungs for a beat, "what have you done!?"

"LET GO OF ME!"
 
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Without a word, he released the priestess. The Portal Stone was amidst a clearing among tall, thin trees. The stone itself seemed to be a shrine of sorts; there were offerings scattered about the ring, and even a large shimenawa was tied around the stone. Perhaps, aside from the scholar that visited, the stone was never used.

"Amore, I am sorry." He turned to her and finally spoke. "When you are healed, I will not stop you from returning to Cortos."

This was for the best. Taking her was for the best. It had to be.

Just then, he was reminded of his nose. It was swollen. Hard to breathe. He brought a hand up to it, and after quick breaths to prepare himself, set his nose with a loud crack and gasp. Tears filled his eyes once more, and he blinked them back.

His spontaneous plan worked. They were there. As he stood and took in his surroundings, a single question swirled in his mind.

What now?
 
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At the release of her arm Amore crumpled to the ground at the foot of the portal stone. The Priestess wasn't crying, but her level of distress was visibly high. Kishou had quite literally taken her entire world away, brought her to a place that he, himself, had run from, and promised return with no assurances that it would ever come.

She shook her head, red hair coming loose from the braid after their scuffle, and allowed the trembling of her heart fill her lungs with unsteady breaths.

"You know I can't..." her head continued to shake, before her voice burst from her lungs with volume and force, "YOU KNOW I CAN'T BE HEALED."

All answers thus far had pointed to a lost cause. Wise mages and aged sorcerers had tried their magics in vain. Experienced Apothecaries had tempted every trick they knew and some they hadn't. Only magic could heal broken magic and so far the results had spoken for themselves.
 
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He turned to and frowned at Amore, the sight of her tired and defeated form greatly saddening the swordsman. He wouldn’t have let her go if she was going to fall like that.

“I know that we haven’t exhausted all of our options,” he replied quickly. Sharply. “Those that can help you here would have a different perspective, different methods to treat you.”

First, was the matter of actually finding people. He just needed to find a familiar place to get his bearings , or even better, somebody to point him in the right direction.

Kishou looked at the sky. It was already nearing noon.

“Let me help you onto the horse.”
 
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As much as admitting to things beyond her control brushed against the grain of her proverbial hackles, Amore had no other choice. She could be furious with him, she could scream at him, she could attempt to attack him again, she could refuse to move.

None of those choices suited a woman of her stature and training. They were suited better to a petulant child, and that was not at all how she had been raised or trained by the Church. If nothing else, she couldn't live with herself by living such an affront to her faith. Grace, dignity, intelligence, wisdom, strength, power, and the willingness to evolve to survive - those were the hallmarks of a Priest of the Solar Choir. Amore could feel the warmth of the sun upon her, and it was brilliant she knew without having to see it. Wherever they were, it was summer and likely midday.

Wherever the sun shone she would find solace in the presence of the Bright One.

The Priestess steadied her breathing and inhaled deeply, releasing it over a slow exhale. After a moment she carefully pushed herself to her feet. Her face was still red with anger but her surface distress had boiled over into a slow simmer. There was nothing more for her to do than to take this wayward journey, but that didn't mean she had to enjoy it.
 
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The swelter of the midsummer day did not wane. The swordsman walked for what felt like an eternity under the sun, only passing clouds serving as a temporary respite from the oppressive heat. Sweat dripped from his chin; his clothes clung to his skin as if soaked by rainfall. When leaving the Portal Stone, they passed through sparse woodland before reaching an expansive plain. To the west, mountains. North and south, however, the plain stretched beyond sight.

The reins in his hand, Kishou led the steed and woman atop it through knee-high grasses without rest. Hours of walking and silence, only ever broken by singing cicadas. Even as the sun retreated over the horizon and marigold streaks and blue sky mingled into a beautiful, vibrant gradient of colors in the now-cloudless sky, the heat and humidity endured.

The night sky darkened by the second, painted blue on blue, one stroke at a time until the canvas of the day's sky washed into darker shades of night.

Only then, after a day of walking in the unforgiving heat, did they happen across a shelter. Sturdily built from clay but too small to be a home, it appeared to be an old, abandoned storehouse. Perhaps it stored rice for a village that once was, but was no more. The walls were nearly crumbling, and with every warm breeze, it felt as if the thatched ceiling would fall in on them.

It would have to suffice.

"Shelter, Amore." The Forastero, if he could even appropriately be referred to as such in his own homeland, sounded tired. Weak, even.

"We should stop and eat. And sleep."

In the saddlebags were dried meats mostly and some bread that, given a day or two longer, would be stale. A skin of water dangled by the saddlebags. It lasted them the day, though it would not last long into the morning.

There was a small portico at the storeroom's entrance; wooden beams supported a thatched roof. Kishou hitched the horse to one of the beams and helped the Priestess off.

"How are you feeling?" he quietly asked.
 
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Amore could not remember the last time heat had ever bothered her, but the stifling humidity of the day wasn't something she was exceptionally familiar with. The Cortosi coast had its dewy days, but nothing quite as sweltering as this. Not to mention her wardrobe was all wrong for it. Elbion was a temperate place, cooler than wherever she was here, higher in elevation as well. The silk she wore, thought light, did not breath nearly as well as she would have liked.

By the time Kishou finally stopped, announcing shelter for the evening, Amore was near to melting off the horse. Saddle sore beyond a doubt, if he hadn't helped her down she would have crumpled right onto the dirt. A withering breath answered the man's question as she steadied herself against the sweat-slicked shoulder of the horse. She was sore, lightheaded, and exhausted - all things he would likely be able to tell simply by looking at her, but she wasn't prone to complaining.

Not to mention she wasn't the one that had walked the entire day.

"Fine," she replied shortly, "all things considered."

She just needed to sit down, somewhere - anywhere other than a saddle.
 
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After helping Amore off of the horse, he grabbed some of the dried food from a saddlebag.

"Good, good," he weakly mumbled and guided her through the narrow doorway into the kura. The floor was tatami and was firm, yet gentle to step and sit on. Kishou let go of Amore's arm before finding a corner to slump into. Lacking any form of grace, the swordsman almost collapsed onto his rear. He set his swords on the floor next to him and let out a loud, heavy sigh.

"Do not go anywhere, okay? Here." Kishou lightly tossed the sack of food near Amore. It landed on the floor with a light plop.

The walk was, of course, exhausting. Painful, even. His leg bones screamed at him, his feet ached, and his eyes grew heavier by the second. Only after stopping did he realize how tired he was.
 
Whether that had been a command or a request, Amore gave it no response. She was, of course, considering an imminent and impromptu departure after the man had fallen asleep. The Priestess even believed he'd likely be out in a matter of minutes - the fatigue in his voice was clear and the sound of his body slumping to the ground supported the notion. She set herself down in the corner opposite him, pulling sweat-slicked hair from her neck with a mild startle as the bag landed by her feet.

She could wait him out and quietly gather the horse, mount up and point it in a direction it seemed willing to go. Horses were trained to follow paths faithfully, so even if she couldn't see she could let the horse find the trail. Eventually they might cross with another person.

Someone that might be able to help her.

But she knew very little of the language beyond basics and was grateful that Kishou had agreed to teach her that much. How to explain who she was, where she came from, and her predicament? Would she even be welcomed by a stranger here? A clear outsider, a lone woman. Kishou had spoken of the beautiful landscapes and the abridge history of his homeland, a bit of the lore ... but of its customs and culture she knew very little.

Where was she?

The quiet of the evening broke into a gentle hum of nightlife. A cooler breeze passed through the doorway of the kura. Amore drifted off thinking of the challenges she'd face here even on a normal visit without her disability - compounded now by everything she didn't know and couldn't do. If she was being tested, she felt she'd been set up for failure.
 
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