05-09-2014, 05:05 PM
Connor's hand was offered in kindness, but Tehya didn't take it. Self-reliance shored up the need for human contact, and she had no use for the concern; even well meant as it was. She was not some fragile doll to need the protection, and while she did desperately wish to crumple and cradle her head in exhaustion, iron planted her feet instead, and her tired expression offered no smile. Such defeat would have seen her dead in the past, and she'd slip from consciousness entirely before she stopped fighting or admitted to the weakness. The isolation of her world was a stone fortress without a chink of light. She couldn't take his hand. It was for the same reason she never asked if he was okay himself. Nor Elias.
Her dark gaze instead caught on the abandoned fire extinguisher. Within the hollowness of her skull Connor's words buzzed, and she was struck numbly by his competence. The way he seemed to know what he was doing, confidently attacking a creature even she'd never seen before. It was impossible, and she almost wrapped her fingers about his wrist and dragged up his sleeve to see if he wore a tattoo, though she doubted she'd find one. Connor was too earnest to be Atharim. His heart was too good. His intentions too pure. Because although her people cast themselves the role of protector, the heart of them was warped; choked by religion and hate and dogma. His courage had not been forged in their fires.
Though it took her a painful moment, she would have at least spoken, but Elias stormed in to fill the breach, dark and pervasive as the Ijiraq. Vitriol dripped from his tongue. Accusations. Had she been more steady on her feet, she might have confronted his arrogance to speak for her - even if he only echoed words already armed on her tongue, she still had a tongue with which to speak them. She would have stamped out the childish waves of dispute, and she would have walked fiercely away from storm if it refused to calm. That, if she'd not felt so insufferably weak. Instead the feuding vortexed up around her, her brow only descended into a frown, and her gaze sought escape in the promise of the oncoming train.
If their agression pinched her expression like it pained her, listening silently also offered explanation. When Connor tried to name the creature, she knew it was not just a brushed encounter with darkness that had informed him, but one of her own people. It was dangerous knowledge. So many myths and folktales were born from the seed of fact, and countless civilians skimmed the supernatural world unknowing everyday. But knowing the truth slanted your perspective irreversibly. Tehya had never known the blindness of that innocence; she'd never had a veil to rip from her eyes, and she'd never known an existence that did not centre the Atharim. But she understood the burden.
Her eyes closed wearily. They suck the life out of you. It had not been life the Ijiraq had stolen, but something far more precious, and she was still reeling from the theft. Vaguely picking the important bits from Connor's vehement defence, the bulk of her apparent attention on remaining standing upright, she thought that he was wrong - or at least not entirely right; if the Ijiraq had intended their deaths, it would have happened the moment the mist coalesced before their eyes. And that begged the question of what it had truly wanted.
And maybe she could think if they'd shut up.
The malcontent offended her. The sharp words carved bloody marks against her brain. She was not even sure what had caused the argument, but she pined for the silent and harmonious company of family. For the earthy presence of her Dustu. The simplicity of black and white. If she'd dared, she would have wrapped herself in the comfort of light to block them both out, retreated to the closest thing to sanctuary she'd ever found. But she couldn't summon the strength to reach for it, lest she grasp only dead white ash. If the spirits left her, what would she have left in this bleak, cold winterland?
By now, she just stopped listening.
The train had roared to a gentle stop, and a few people spilled from its doors. She stared, hoping not to fall, hoping the strength wouldn't leave her legs when she willed them to move. Her conscience would not allow her to walk away silent, though for the grievousness of their arguing she grimly considered it. Obligation directed her in the end. If either of them sought answers, better they sought from her than the bleak unknown. She owed them nothing, but she offered them that freely. She'd shepherd them best as she was able, protect them how she could. "Ijiraq." Her gaze focused on the doors. "It was. An Ijiraq." She braced herself on the way in, but did not stumble. There was a lazy grace to her movements, a succinctness undiminished by the attack. Apparently she pooled dogged reserves from somewhere.
She did not wait. Once inside, Tehya pulled out her phone, briefly recalling Aria's message, though right now it was the police she dialled to wearily report the unconscious man on the other side of the track. She cut the line before they could harass her with questions, and sank into a seat, pressing her head back, eyes half lidded. Her bones dissolved to water, but she was in no hurry to meet a destination. She wasn't in a hurry for conversation either, but she probably had less choice in that. If nothing else, she expected Connor wasn't likely to leave her be, not until he was assured she wasn't about to collapse. Elias she was less sure of, but she suspected her utterance would provide a lure, and perhaps that wasn't entirely uncalculated. She wanted to know what he had done to it.
Her dark gaze instead caught on the abandoned fire extinguisher. Within the hollowness of her skull Connor's words buzzed, and she was struck numbly by his competence. The way he seemed to know what he was doing, confidently attacking a creature even she'd never seen before. It was impossible, and she almost wrapped her fingers about his wrist and dragged up his sleeve to see if he wore a tattoo, though she doubted she'd find one. Connor was too earnest to be Atharim. His heart was too good. His intentions too pure. Because although her people cast themselves the role of protector, the heart of them was warped; choked by religion and hate and dogma. His courage had not been forged in their fires.
Though it took her a painful moment, she would have at least spoken, but Elias stormed in to fill the breach, dark and pervasive as the Ijiraq. Vitriol dripped from his tongue. Accusations. Had she been more steady on her feet, she might have confronted his arrogance to speak for her - even if he only echoed words already armed on her tongue, she still had a tongue with which to speak them. She would have stamped out the childish waves of dispute, and she would have walked fiercely away from storm if it refused to calm. That, if she'd not felt so insufferably weak. Instead the feuding vortexed up around her, her brow only descended into a frown, and her gaze sought escape in the promise of the oncoming train.
If their agression pinched her expression like it pained her, listening silently also offered explanation. When Connor tried to name the creature, she knew it was not just a brushed encounter with darkness that had informed him, but one of her own people. It was dangerous knowledge. So many myths and folktales were born from the seed of fact, and countless civilians skimmed the supernatural world unknowing everyday. But knowing the truth slanted your perspective irreversibly. Tehya had never known the blindness of that innocence; she'd never had a veil to rip from her eyes, and she'd never known an existence that did not centre the Atharim. But she understood the burden.
Her eyes closed wearily. They suck the life out of you. It had not been life the Ijiraq had stolen, but something far more precious, and she was still reeling from the theft. Vaguely picking the important bits from Connor's vehement defence, the bulk of her apparent attention on remaining standing upright, she thought that he was wrong - or at least not entirely right; if the Ijiraq had intended their deaths, it would have happened the moment the mist coalesced before their eyes. And that begged the question of what it had truly wanted.
And maybe she could think if they'd shut up.
The malcontent offended her. The sharp words carved bloody marks against her brain. She was not even sure what had caused the argument, but she pined for the silent and harmonious company of family. For the earthy presence of her Dustu. The simplicity of black and white. If she'd dared, she would have wrapped herself in the comfort of light to block them both out, retreated to the closest thing to sanctuary she'd ever found. But she couldn't summon the strength to reach for it, lest she grasp only dead white ash. If the spirits left her, what would she have left in this bleak, cold winterland?
By now, she just stopped listening.
The train had roared to a gentle stop, and a few people spilled from its doors. She stared, hoping not to fall, hoping the strength wouldn't leave her legs when she willed them to move. Her conscience would not allow her to walk away silent, though for the grievousness of their arguing she grimly considered it. Obligation directed her in the end. If either of them sought answers, better they sought from her than the bleak unknown. She owed them nothing, but she offered them that freely. She'd shepherd them best as she was able, protect them how she could. "Ijiraq." Her gaze focused on the doors. "It was. An Ijiraq." She braced herself on the way in, but did not stumble. There was a lazy grace to her movements, a succinctness undiminished by the attack. Apparently she pooled dogged reserves from somewhere.
She did not wait. Once inside, Tehya pulled out her phone, briefly recalling Aria's message, though right now it was the police she dialled to wearily report the unconscious man on the other side of the track. She cut the line before they could harass her with questions, and sank into a seat, pressing her head back, eyes half lidded. Her bones dissolved to water, but she was in no hurry to meet a destination. She wasn't in a hurry for conversation either, but she probably had less choice in that. If nothing else, she expected Connor wasn't likely to leave her be, not until he was assured she wasn't about to collapse. Elias she was less sure of, but she suspected her utterance would provide a lure, and perhaps that wasn't entirely uncalculated. She wanted to know what he had done to it.