05-11-2014, 02:07 PM
Tehya's mind reeled, but it was beginning to sink in.
Nothing she had ever read about Ijiraq suggested that they either drew out or consumed the spirits - indeed they had once been vassals of the gods, and presumably subject to the very power this one had sucked from her. If it were evolution, it was one she viewed grimly; and if not, it was something the Atharim unsurprisingly had little knowledge of. Bound by the very oaths that marked her an abomination, it was not even a question she could openly pursue. To do so would lay bare the very secret that would end her. But to not do so left her as prey.
Her gaze followed Elias as he sat opposite. It was easy to look at him and see the belligerence of a teenager, then end that judgement without ever looking beyond the black paint, pale skin and acerbic manner. His words were stabs, as though he was accustom to biting before being bitten. Or perhaps it was just plain bluntness, unfortunately wrapped in a package many found disagreeable. He certainly did himself no favours, but Tehya took no offence at the intensity of his demand. These were unusual circumstances; roles reversed, she would also require answers.
Her attention flickered up as Connor joined them, her features solemn, her gaze searching. She both respected and despaired the reckless courage that had propelled him across the tracks in front of an oncoming train, but she did not condemn Elias for his inaction - if it could even be called such. More importantly, she was not up to acting as mediator to their spat. Adrenaline born of danger pumped fire through men's veins. Passion was a powerful stimulus, and some carried the mantle of Protector with zealous heart. Tehya was one of them. So she didn't blame the heat of his anger, if she considered it misplaced, and he had reigned himself in when common sense had caught up with his mouth. She considered that an end to it.
"Exactly?"
Her shoulders rose and fell in a minimal shrug, though there was nothing casual or offhand in the movement; she was not brushing off Elias' question. "My people say they inhabit a place between two worlds; not quite inside this one, nor quite outside of it. You will not see one unless it wishes to be seen, and then usually only moments before it takes your life. But I have heard Elders say they can also appear to offer messages to travelers."
She deliberately conflated the issue of her people, of course, just as she deliberately conflated the myth with the harder truth. To make it palatable. Assassins once directed by gods who walked among men were harder to swallow.
Her gaze landed square on Elias, unblinking, when she spoke of messages. It had spoken to him. And left its mark. Leaned forward like that, his elbow on his knees, she could see his hand had returned to normal. No trace of the Ijiraq's influence remained; still, she pressed herself forward, the heel of one hand pushed into the pad of the seat for balance, the other grabbing his to inspect curiously. Her grip was gentle, but it was firm, rotating his wrist, sweeping a thumb across his palm. Nothing. But she had seen the withered curl of his fingers, the red flare of his skin. She let go. "Why did you touch it?"
Edited by Tehya, May 11 2014, 02:09 PM.
Nothing she had ever read about Ijiraq suggested that they either drew out or consumed the spirits - indeed they had once been vassals of the gods, and presumably subject to the very power this one had sucked from her. If it were evolution, it was one she viewed grimly; and if not, it was something the Atharim unsurprisingly had little knowledge of. Bound by the very oaths that marked her an abomination, it was not even a question she could openly pursue. To do so would lay bare the very secret that would end her. But to not do so left her as prey.
Her gaze followed Elias as he sat opposite. It was easy to look at him and see the belligerence of a teenager, then end that judgement without ever looking beyond the black paint, pale skin and acerbic manner. His words were stabs, as though he was accustom to biting before being bitten. Or perhaps it was just plain bluntness, unfortunately wrapped in a package many found disagreeable. He certainly did himself no favours, but Tehya took no offence at the intensity of his demand. These were unusual circumstances; roles reversed, she would also require answers.
Her attention flickered up as Connor joined them, her features solemn, her gaze searching. She both respected and despaired the reckless courage that had propelled him across the tracks in front of an oncoming train, but she did not condemn Elias for his inaction - if it could even be called such. More importantly, she was not up to acting as mediator to their spat. Adrenaline born of danger pumped fire through men's veins. Passion was a powerful stimulus, and some carried the mantle of Protector with zealous heart. Tehya was one of them. So she didn't blame the heat of his anger, if she considered it misplaced, and he had reigned himself in when common sense had caught up with his mouth. She considered that an end to it.
"Exactly?"
Her shoulders rose and fell in a minimal shrug, though there was nothing casual or offhand in the movement; she was not brushing off Elias' question. "My people say they inhabit a place between two worlds; not quite inside this one, nor quite outside of it. You will not see one unless it wishes to be seen, and then usually only moments before it takes your life. But I have heard Elders say they can also appear to offer messages to travelers."
She deliberately conflated the issue of her people, of course, just as she deliberately conflated the myth with the harder truth. To make it palatable. Assassins once directed by gods who walked among men were harder to swallow.
Her gaze landed square on Elias, unblinking, when she spoke of messages. It had spoken to him. And left its mark. Leaned forward like that, his elbow on his knees, she could see his hand had returned to normal. No trace of the Ijiraq's influence remained; still, she pressed herself forward, the heel of one hand pushed into the pad of the seat for balance, the other grabbing his to inspect curiously. Her grip was gentle, but it was firm, rotating his wrist, sweeping a thumb across his palm. Nothing. But she had seen the withered curl of his fingers, the red flare of his skin. She let go. "Why did you touch it?"
Edited by Tehya, May 11 2014, 02:09 PM.