Private Tales She Who Dares, Wins

[Vaer Nhimei]

There it was again – that far-off look she’d had yesterday. A pinch formed between Vaer’s brows in the moment she paused between his question and her answer. It reminded him of something, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. He brushed it off as Favashi daydreaming about gore and bloodshed.

“You’d look great with an axe." And she would. She'd look great with anything. He nodded approvingly and cast an appraising look at her shoulders, recalling the many times he had seen her bare back. Like many fae, her lithe form belied her strength.

"My teeth, chiefly," he said with a light laugh. "But if I must employ my thumbs, I'm quite fond of the sword. Hand and a half, to be specific." Big Man with a Big Sword. He liked it for its versatility – and because he liked doing the swirly-swoops with it. He wasn't going to say that part out loud.

Vaer ate the last half of his pastry and, licking his lips, eyed another in contemplation.

"How long will it take to get to the Steppes from here?" he asked.

 

[Favashi]

Favashi smiled noting the direction of his gaze and casually moved the plate a little closer in invitation.

"It depends on the Leys," was the only cryptic answer she would give even if prompted another time. Magick worked differently in the Dawn Court, as though the very fabric of the world knew they did not abide by the laws of convention. She went back to twirling a piece of her hair around her finger and watching the gardens, lost in the memories which had arisen before. They felt less dangerous to examine now, like the Mists had dragged them to the surface and now she could view them like she would recall yesterday's party.

"It's been a long time since I've been to the Steppes. They have had some wonderful wars over the centuries," she sighed. "True epics for the bards to sing about. I don't think even a handful of them are still remembered," a sad shake of the head then she turned her golden gaze once more to her guest.

"If you prefer your teeth and claws, do not feel the need to get rid of them. The Steppes are home to all manner of creatures."

 

[Vaer Nhimei]

She slid the pastries closer and he obliged, plucking another from the tray.

It depends on the leys.

Ah, what a mysterious reply. He wouldn’t indulge her by looking alarmed, even if he was slightly nervous. The duanann moved so damn quickly through the ley lines. Black shucks had a considerable wealth of power compared to lesser fae, but nothing compared to duanann. He’d traveled the leys with his father much as a pup and learned that repeated exposure did nothing to improve his tolerance for the speed at which they moved.

Thankfully, his father also taught him an herbal remedy for motion sickness. He made a mental note to take it before they departed. Vomiting on Favashi’s boots the moment they arrived at the battle was hardly the entrance he wanted to make.

Zavali preserve me today. Vaer made the Klehastic sign of the serpent across his person, then took a bite of the pastry. He tried not to think about puking it back up later as she reminisced.

“Thank you,” he said with a warm smile. He felt no such need, feeling more at home in his other forms than this one, but it mattered that she said it, that his comfort mattered – not just because he’d lost a bet and was being tortured with a good time. Vaer couldn’t say why it mattered, only that it made him feel appreciated, seen.

“Have you thought of dictation?” he asked, recalling back to her previous comments about the wars she had seen. “Not to be insulting, but you have lived a long life and witnessed many things. You remember events and people and places that are lost to time; it would be a tragedy to lose all of that history with you one day. Many duanann record their lives, even when they've cultivated the most mundane affinities. I can think of many who would value the tales the Lady of War has to tell.”

There was a brightness in his eyes, an earnest interest that wouldn’t be subdued.

 

[Favashi]

Favashi's lips curved into a half smirk.

"What do you think all the books in my library are about?" Before Vaer could answer however, the Fury of War got to her feet plucking a grape from the crystal bowl in the centre of the table. "Help yourself to the weaponry room, whatever takes your fancy. I'll meet you outside in half an hour," and with that she turned to pick up the large round shield that had been propped to the side and the gladiatrix sword next to it, then left him to enjoy the rest of his breakfast in peace.

True to her word, Favashi was waiting outside the palace by the pond she had greeted Vaer out only a few days before. She had rid herself of the chiton she had been wearing earlier and replaced it instead with the more typical garb of the Steppes. She wore silk trousers that ballooned around the thighs but fit her calves like a second skin, and a long, embroidered kaftan over the top. It was cinched in with a belt from which hung a deadly axe. She had braided her long hair and smudged kohl around her eyes to complete the look.

"Have you travelled the leys before?" she asked by way of greeting when he arrived.

 

[Vaer Nhimei]

If his tail was out, it would be wagging. He began to consider how brave he was, how often he dared ask to visit Favashi to read from her book collection.

He stood politely to bid her farewell, then sat back down to finish his breakfast. He made a short trip to the armory, as she suggested, and spent a few shameless minutes touching and trying out her very cool, very sharp toys. Thinking it would be rude to turn down such a remarkable offer, he selected a sword and tucked it away between for later. There was also armor, perfectly sized to fit him in the style of Steppes. Favashi (or her house) was a thoughtful hostess.

Padding up to Favashi in full black dog form, Vaer's shoulder was level with hers. He was timely, a few minutes before the appointed time.

"You look very fierce," he remarked with a wide grin. He had to admit she could have made anything look fierce.

But then she asked if he had traveled the leys, and Vaer sighed.

"Several times with your kind. I get motion sick, but this will help," he answered.

He sat back on his haunches and held up a paw. It had been a paw, but was now his hand, sleek and darker than his usual charcoal grey. A cup of tea appeared, pulled from between, and he lapped it up quickly. With the turn of his wrist the cup was gone again. He sat up to his full height, signed himself with his paw in a serpentine pattern in prayer to Zavali, and looked to Favashi.

"I am ready."

 

[Favashi]

Brazenly, Favashi ran her fingers through his thick black coat as he came to stand beside her. A smile tugged at her lips as he bestowed his compliment but said nothing more on the matter; what was there to say when she knew it to be true? Prided herself on it even. She released him as he sat back and watched with curiosity the way in which he so easily moved from one form to the other, shaping himself to fit his needs as and when they arose. A darkly seductive whisper wondered how he might use such a gift in other ways. She had to sink her teeth into her bottom lip to stop herself from asking like some youthful maid.

"Please try not to be sick on me, it is hard enough to get blood out of silk," she flicked his nose and flashed him a teasing grin. Then, before he could retort, she wound her fingers once more in his fur and stepped with him through the between and onto the leys.

They arrived atop the crest of a hill affording them a perfect view of the battlefield below. Undulations filled the air alongside the rhythmic clash of weapons and the sounds of dying screams. Dead already clogged up the plains and people with red armbands to mark them as medics rushed from one corpse to another. Very rarely did they set up a flag to signal a soldier still breathed. Favashi took a deep breath in to fill her lungs with the scent of home. When her eyes opened they seemed to glow. The power that had always thrummed beneath her skin now unable to deny.

"The ones that wear the fur rimmed helms are those marked to die," the other Khan had paid the right amount for her blessing, she would honour the Deal. "But I won't be mad if you get... carried away."

 

[Vaer Nhimei]

On the short list of things that fae were just as susceptible to as mortals was the urge to pet a dog. Being a dog, Vaer always welcomed it. He was, after all, totally and completely pettable. His deep ebony coat was silky and parted easily between her fingers.

They were off before he could amuse her with a reply, slipping between and becoming part of the leys. To Vaer, who felt most at home in shadow, the blinding flow of magick was an assault of color and light. He clung close to where he sensed Favashi in the current beside him, her power shielding him as they sped through the veins of the world.

When they returned to a corporeal state on the other side of the leys, the din of the physical world slammed into his senses. The battle was already underway.

Vaer took a step forward. His ears pricked up, his long nose lifted into the air, and his golden eyes swept over the battlefield. They were in the thick of it, but their position atop the hill permitted him the perfect view. He took in Favashi’s information with a curt nod. He gave her no humored reply this time.

As the Fury of War desired, so it would be.

His head lowered and the stoic and mannered Vaer slipped away as if tucked between. In his place stood the Penance of the Wild Hunt, a beast feared and renowned for his capability and willingness to wage a war such as this. They were there to sway the tide. He trusted in Favashi's greater plan and laid his mores aside. He could pick them up after their deed was done.

He waited for Favashi but left the hilltop at her side, loping down the slope and into the fray with his teeth bared. The black shuck broke into the melee and his great paws struck the first human with the furred helm, knocking him to the ground. His jaws closed around the man's throat and his cries were silenced as Vaer ripped. Blood squelched down Vaer's chin, hot and heavy, and he moved on to the next.

 

[Favashi]

Favashi stood for a time simply enjoying the scene of Vaer's wanton destruction as he ripped through the lines of fighters. Soldiers turned from the challengers they were facing towards the sounds of screaming and snarling, hesitating as they decided whether to rush to their comrades aid, continue their own battle or flee entirely. It cost many of them their lives.

"Beautiful," the Fury of War sighed and pressed a hand over her heart. All this potential that he kept such a tight leash over. The chaos and destruction he could cause if he just let go... it was a tantalising prospect. Could she sway him to the Dawnish way of thinking? Could she convince him to give in to the natural urges he clearly ignored? If only he could see himself now how she saw him. Ferocious, powerful, beautiful. She lingered there atop the hill top enjoying the view a moment more before descending into the fray herself.

The battlefield was delicious chaos.

Favashi moved among the throngs like a Goddess given flesh. One moment she was amongst the cavalry, yanking soldiers from their mounts and burying her axe into their skull. The next she was amongst the archers, burying their own arrow in the soft tender flesh of their jugular. Her delighted laughter rose above the sounds of death.

Eventually she found herself in the middle of the fray and the ranks before her parted. A tall brutish looking man stepped forward. His nose was bloodied and out of joint and there was a deep cut in his upper arm where he had not raised his shield quick enough, but there was a bright thrill to his eyes and there, upon his chest, was the unmistakable likeness of Favashi.

"You came," he dropped to one knee and bowed his head. His sworn guard followed suit.

"You made the deal," she inclined her head and licked the blood from her fingers. "Your first born's blood in return for victory."

 

[Vaer Nhimei]

The soldiers parted for him like a school of fish for a shark. There was little room for them to escape, however. Pushed back against their peers, their fear and confusion made the first few simple prey. There was no challenge in it. They cried out in fear for loved ones, for their companions and leaders. None of their calls were answered. Vaer dispatched them efficiently. Blood soaked his maw and neck, making his dark fur glisten in the sunlight.

Finally, the demeanor around him began to change. One bearing the furred helm bellowed and charged, wielding his weapon bravely against the dark beast in their midst.

A thrill of adrenaline shot through Vaer as the man hacked downward with his blade. He dodged, dipping to the side and snarling. His golden eyes lit with a wild light, but he didn't toy with his enemy. He lunged, catching the sword between his teeth and ripping it away. Before it had settled on the ground, he was already tearing its owner's guts from his body.

It took a little while for these things to catch on. One man's bravery before falling inspired another, who in turn stirred courage on another. So it went until it was finally a fight and not a one-sided slaughter.

Vaer carved A path parallel to Favashi, turning with her advance into the center of the battlefield. There, the bodies were already thick on the ground. Vaer's paws sunk into flesh and innards and the air was hot and thick, closing with blood, sweat, and piss.

At last, she reached ally lines and Vaer veered to follow in her wake. She'd carved a bloody path. Of course she had; he expected nothing less from a duanann of war. Emerging across the line into the ally army ranks, Vaer licked his chops as he trotted to catch up to her. He might have continued at his previous task, but he was curious. He wanted to look upon the man who had summoned Favashi's glorious wrath.

He was, as expected, just a man, but his armor was emblazened with a very familiar visage. Some duanann worked privately within their domain, but clearly subtly was not Favashi's perogative. No, she stood before them tall and proud, licking her fingers as if she'd been nibbling jelly pastries at tea, and they bowed at her feet. Words failed to capture her in that moment.

Vaer felt something twist deep in his gut. Respect? Desire? Something in between those, to be sure. He swung his long nose from Favashi to the man bearing her image as she confirmed her tribute.

And what a steep price he'd been willing to pay. Vaer passed no judgement; the butcher wouldn't point fingers at the hangman. He continued to lick his muzzle clean.

 

[Favashi]

The great man bowed his head again in agreement.

"It is worth it, to see these pigs eradicated from this world," Favashi had a feeling he would feel less passionately about giving up his child if it had been born a son, but her intelligence said his wife had birthed a girl before he had taken to the field. It did not matter to her, they all bled the same, but it did make her lips curve into an unpleasant smile. This man no doubt thought he had cheated her. She would have to think on how to resolve that.

"Great Goddess, will you give me the strength to win as we bargained?"

Favashi ran her eyes over the expectant eyes of the men surrounded him. War waged beyond them but for now they stood in a small bubble of peace. Weapons were turned away by her magic before they could spear them cowardly in the back. She seemed to ponder it for long enough the man before her began to sweat with unease. In the end she reached out to gently cup the mans chin and tilt his face up towards her. In answer she leant down and kissed him with her bloody mouth. The man's body seized and began to shake as though in great pain. His men nervously grabbed at weapons and watched until finally she let him go.

His eyes when they opened had a glow about them. Indeed his whole being seemed larger, his skin glowing, like a figure who had walked off the pages of a legend right onto the battlefield. He picked up his mace wordlessly, turned as though possessed and with a battle cry returned to the frey with his men streaming behind them. Favashi ran her hand through Vaer's soft fur.

"Shall we go collect my prize?"

 

[Vaer Nhimei]

Some things were made only to be witnessed once. When Favashi tipped her faithful's chin upward, Vaer felt the air strain, stretched thin as power surged from between. It was controlled, precise, perfect, and his entire being – mind, body, and spirit – thrummed.

It happened as quickly as thrilling kisses do. The mortal man glowed with the raw vitality of the world when Favashi lifted her lips from his. They would write songs of this moment, Vaer realized as he watched the man bellow and charge. Favashi's kiss would be the first moment of his triumph.

"Shall we go collect my prize?”

Ah, but there it was: the tragedy. No hero's song was ever free of sorrow and loss. Vaer watched the man go a for moment more, then met Favashi's gaze.

If he didn't die on this outlandish holiday, he hoped he got the chance to hear the songs written about this day. He hoped at least one of them captured the way she, too, was glowing. Great Goddess, the man had called her, and that's what she was. She was effervescent, radiating the power as she had imparted, bloody and ethereal in the height of her affinity. Vaer could feel it coming off of her like heat from white-hot iron. He wanted to pull away. He wanted to be burned.

“Lead the way, Great Goddess,” he replied. He stepped one paw closer to her so that his fur pressed against her shoulder.