Who

Divale, Ko'an

What

Harming of others' lifemates doesn't go unavenged on the ground. The brief aftermath of a few chasers as Nasrin's tent comes tumblin' down after Rajakhelath is caught.

When

It is evening of the twenty-eigthth day of the twelfth month of the twelfth turn of the 12th pass.

Where

Weyr Pass Road, Igen Weyr

OOC Date 17 Jan 2018 05:00

 

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"Good enough."


igenweyrpassroad.jpg

Weyr Pass Road

The temperature begins ever-so-gradually to drop as you travel further into the foothills of the Central Pass. Largely inhospitable and difficult to traverse, it is no wonder most traffic converges on this narrow dip through the mountains: a hospitable pass that runs east-west, deep-rutted with the marks of centuries' of wagon ruts and runner hooves. To your northeast, Igen Weyr is now clearly distinguishable from the other mountains in the range, and the eastern roadway splinters, a trail running up towards the plateau at its feet.

Over-canvassed: To have too great a sail area up to safely maneuver in the current wind conditions.


There's a small amount of chaos that ensues at the end of Rajakhelath's flight, at least on the human side of it. With the multiple men who slam into a post of the tent, bringing the relatively small and not immensely sturdy structure down with them, there is suddenly darkness and confusion where there was- just seconds before- the more typical grunts and mutterings of disappointment. Most scramble for escape. Others were already on their way out before a bronzerider grabbed hold of Ko'an's lapels and tunic in one heavy grasp and sucker punched him across his handsome face. The brownrider associated with the second beast the Black Pearl’d dragon had torn savagely from the sky was on his tail to jump the piratical rider in a heaped beginnings of a brawl. There was no doubt that the Ghost Ship had gone after one more dragon prior to his ultimate loss of his treasure, a thing not taken lightly. That one was, without a doubt, Lukoith, given how close he'd been to him right before the catch. Ko'an, despite Zodaiyath's quick departure, is still far from himself. There was no Light this time, no salvation, no Eala as an anchor, a lighthouse to pull him back from purgatory's grasp. And he was a fool to think he could win on his own. Perhaps he had fought, perhaps he had resisted, but had ultimately and completely failed against the Darkness- a constant fear when so close to the little ones Ailsa and Eanraig, as he had been today. No matter that the Dark One has gone somewhere very far off to nurse his wounds, the reverberation of consequence, of punishment for their failure resonates heavily in his mind. Chains clasped tighter around his wrists, bound to the mainmast moist and dripping with the seaslime that coats them. In reality, Ko'an is on the ground on his back pinned between a tent post on one side and a bronzerider poised above him punch him again. The brownrider struggles to get out of the tent remains and at the same time is shoving the latter off of Ko'an to get a shot at him himself. It's ultimately quite difficult to tell what's going amidst the frenzy of motion on at first glance, but despite the flight being over, clearly the injuries to their lifemates are not going to go unavenged.

Lukoith was readied for Zodaiyath's retaliation. His memory does not recall the last time they clashed, but despite that it is expected and the brown will not go down without standing ground against the bronze. Exhausted, he will only continue to wheel away once the Darkness has vanished far enough away to deter even Shadow from following; had the bronze merely flown back to Igen, he would've hounded him the entire way and damned be the consequences! Divale stays true to seeing that Doji does not remained crippled by her inexperience and inability to cope and once assured that the (too young) brownrider can seek refuge on her own and not be picked off as easy prey by jilted riders, she herself will turn back. She fought the temptation of one urge borne of flight loss. Now? Now she gives in readily to blood lust and with a mind still drowning in the primal thrum of Lukoith's madness, she zeros in on the remnants of that tent. Ko'an will have to entertain that other bronzerider for awhile longer. Divale's target is the brownrider, whether it be because she senses something in him to mark him as the weakest of the three or because she holds weakness against him. It may turn out to be both, as she hauls the brownrider off balance and aside enough that the man is jarred enough to focus. A fellow Parhelion, perhaps? Or one who does not fight women. Details do not matter, as Divale seeks only to make it very clear he's to back off ? body language is a beautiful thing, really. Who needs words? Cut off from the source of his ire, even if for just that short spell, will see the brownrider adversary turning away with muttered curses and oaths and empty threats. The Oasis Inn is not far and his path will likely lead him to comfort there. One down. Two to go! The older, unfamiliar bronzerider is the next on Divale's "list" but the second most troublesome. She's not as daft to put herself directly between him and Ko'an, but it's a near thing. There is no art, no flare of technique here; just down and dirty fighting and Divale to fight dirtiest of all; their vengeance means nothing to her and for some, it'd be read completely wrong as to why she's interfering.

In the battles waged before the ultimate ending, there was naught but pleasure from the Dark One. But once his goal is absent, so too is his desire to waste his energy on those who remain. Just as one might expect of a phantasmal being is he gone, and just as Lukoith senses, not anywhere closeby. To one of his islands, maybe. Perhaps to the island which holds the most valuable of Ko'an's.. collection. Regardless, even if reached out to… if one can reach that far, there is nothing but the knowing that he exists… that faint ominous feeling of something being there. Ko'an himself is not idle on the ground there, though that initial punch stunned him, blackened his vision for a moment, made it difficult to piece together who had thrown that brick of a fist. As soon as he can see, however, there's a scramble. His silver-ringed fingers clench tight into the other man's flight jacket and heave him to the side, undermining his balance until they're both struggling to their feet to see who can swing first. Ko'an trips backwards a step on all the canvas wrinkles and posts- so much for his innate arrogant elegance, but hey, he's not really here right now. His expression, 'neath that rugged scruff and the shinner quickly appearing, says exactly that. To not know him well, it's a sneer that beckons for blood and preens the fact that he's a cocky son of a bitch who is not ashamed in the least that his dragon downed the other. Clearly, he was in the way. To know him better, would see the struggle behind the ice-steel of storm raged eyes. And he'll stumble right back into Divale too just as she turns her attention to intervene between the two men. If she bares the weight of him colliding into her without falling, he would turn in anticipation of her being that brownrider, a punch thrown exactly in her direction.

Lukoith is gone now too but not as far as Zodaiyath would go. No, he can sense the shift and will haunt a nearby steppe, as he does his rider's thoughts. Strengthened as he is over their bond, he is not about to allow Divale to revert back to her controlled self. The she-wolf is loose and so he fuels her with his corruption born of furious letdown and frustration to have lost again to another. Greens don't nearly bring such the same response but to lose a gold? Unacceptable. Lack of elegance on Ko'an's part goes largely unnoticed by Divale ? she is as far from her usual self as can be. She focuses merely on the fact that he IS moving and so is the second bronzerider. All the same, she is not prepared to have Ko'an stumble back and it is only by pure chance that training and instinct have her bracing in time to keep from collapsing under him. It will cost her dearly in the days to come; she can't feel it now, just a twinge of certain muscles less than pleased to be pushed to such limits as she bares his weight for those few seconds. Then he is turning, relief not even registered before adrenaline ramps up to heightened pitch as he swings and, predictably, she moves to duck below his arm before he makes contact. Now it's her turn to ram into him, no matter how ineffective it will be or leaving her vulnerable? she just needs enough to slip out from close quarters and circle back to put distance between him AND that other rider (if he hasn't lost interest by then). With the remnants of the tent posing threat, Divale will crouch defensively, not at all deterred from the wicked, feral-like grin etched onto her features. Her eyes, normally dark and cold, are fire-bright and fevered and though she's not coherently verbal, there's no mistaking the taunting notes in her snickered, ragged breath and growled laugh, the subtle hidden language in her posture aside from the defensiveness. Barbing, taunting, challenging… she seeks to lure Ko'an away… or both bronzeriders. If that form of persuasion isn't enough, she will go on the offensive, darting in to rekindle the brawling as they move further and further back, through desert sand and terrain. Whether Ko'an charges her or not, or its once again some devilish tangle brought on by the other bronzerider, Divale loses her footing on the edge of a blind dip in a dune. One leading into one of the many trenches seeding this damn stretch. It's steep, but not deadly in pitch and as she begins to go over the edge, predictably she does the most underhanded thing to do ? she grasps for the nearest shred of material or limb and seeks to haul the unfortunate damned soul down with her. And it's Ko'an's lucky day! Giving into the inevitable, as she goes into the backwards roll, she'll make sure to give him a good kick before gravity takes hold in an attempt to separate them on the way down. Not a long way to fall, but it's going to smart, as sand proves to be less than forgiving and the bottom of that trench is nothing but hard packed ground (and more sand).

A swing and a miss, literally. Ko'an is not as great at hand to hand as he is with a blade, not in comparison to those trained with some time under Parhelion, but he's not terrible either, not considering how many times he's had to teach a lesson of 'respect' in a tavern in his days… past and present. He recoils, his face flushed slightly, his teeth clenched now that all that is left to bare is his eternal punishment. Lines course across and deeply shadow his face, an unpleasant expression. Dangerous. The sort that doesn't lead to any kind of happy ending. The elated fervor of their bloodlust wanes, as in its place rises the sensation of unhealing wounds etched into his skin upon purgatorial mindscape. If one is paying close enough attention, he sways slightly- though whether that's because of his mindseye or that initial strike he took square in the face, is uncertain. It doesn't yet register that it's Divale he just tried to nail. Until one second, two.. three.. His hand starts to drop slightly, just enough that it's within reach of her when she's suddenly lunging for him to grab hold for support, or just to not go down alone. Whichever. Gaze not his own starts to clear enough that the realization hits him fully. And so does a massive force at his back. The older bronzerider tackles him from behind, grabbing him to take him down to the ground again. Unfortunately, that means Ko'an isn't going to be pulling Divale up to save her (or, rather, himself, let's be honest) from that tumbling fate. No, it means that three people are going over that ledge in a hurry and in an incredibly less than pleasant tangle of bodies. Ko'an hits the ground, kicked separate from Divale but forced closer to her than probably anyone intended given the amount of force that brings him and the other guy with her. They careen and tumble. Grips are lost, fighting no longer at the forefront of thought, dust kicking up around them in a cloud of disaster. When momentum brings them to the bottom, there's a brief quiet and then… A growled slurry of slow muttered seaman's curses from Ko'an breaching the sudden stillness. The other rider is groaning as he sits up, though his anger seems otherwise almost sated by the fall. He's not coming after Ko'an again, at least. Eventually he'd try to get up to stagger away, muttering some threat of getting him later for what Zodaiyath had done. "Bloody hell lass." The piratical bronzerider growls, finally acknowledging her directly as he starts to sit himself up, kohl-rimmed eyes closing as the scratches and bumps make themselves known amidst his movement, "You alive?"

That the third bronzerider goes with them all was not intended but such is the fate bestowed upon them. Cooler heads would've known the danger and Divale would never have gone so close to the edge as she did. As the dust settles, the other bronzerider is left unchallenged to leave and hobble off to lick his wounds and nurse his revenge. Ko'an's query is met with an unnerving stretch of silence from the prone form that is Divale. In her tumble, she ended up face down, with her back to him and for an unsettling moment she's not moving. The key, however, to knowing that the worst has not come is that Lukoith does not make an appearance; no midnight-form comes down upon them in fury or panic to reach his rider. That form of silence is a boon and sure enough, Divale will twitch and stir not a second later. Winded by the fall and impact, her movements are sluggish as she pulls an arm under her for leverage. Bruised and rattled, even with her head still bowed it's not hard to miss the small rivulet of blood streaking down one side of her face. A few drops fall to the dirt and sand as she continues to turn and face him; the wound is not serious, just a nuisance ? a small cut just above the brow and already beginning to clot. As her eyes lift and narrow to focus on him, they're lacking much of that fevered heat from earlier, settling back to the familiar cold darkness. "Would seem so." she mutters hoarsely and teetering on the cusp of a groaned scoff or two, still not fully recovered from being winded. Not sensing as much of an immediate threat from him, Divale turns her head away and focuses on at least moving to a kneeling position. Best it be that the fight has gone out of them all; but if it lingers still for Ko'an, she's at an awfully vulnerable point right about then.

No pleasant company will be he, despite the huff of breath that might be amusement by her eventual reply. Sitting up is a slow process, though with now the pains of the fall, he doesn't differentiate mind and body. He stays where he sits, his vision reddened by purgatorial haze, shifting only to clutch at his hook-scarred hand. That piece of frayed black cloth he uses to cover the black-spot type accursed scar had gone missing somewhere down that ridge they'd fallen. He needs to get home or worse is yet to come. That long silence that could have meant a more serious injury to Divale seems almost not.. noticed. Time passes differently in an eternal wasteland upon an endless River. Uncertain how much time has passed, it rouses him again when she moves and- eventually- answers. Steely, discomforting gaze follows her, ice-touched, a sea ravaged by a heinous storm. A struggle, a weakness. There doesn't seem to be outward violence in what movements he does make, though there's something worse there. Unsettling, unsafe. There's some red smeared across him, apparently one strike to the face had cut him somewhere, and now sand and grit sticks to him wherever crimson stains. "Good enough." Is exhaled as he forces himself to stand, rising to his height, but looking off somewhere else as he does so. And then he starts to walk. And not in the immediate direction of the Weyr- is he confused? concussed? lost? No, none of the above, but he doesn't explain. He glances at her one more time, then back at the horizon he's started towards as he leaves her there without another word.

For the second time in the span of that day, Divale could care less if she's ignored. That she's survived thus far means she will likely continue to do so on her own. It'd have been another matter entirely, had Ko'an gone for the attack again ? he'd have won, no qualms or questions. Instead they'll remain at this stalemate, both too battered from the fall and consumed by their own demons. The song which had so overpowered her is fading now, along with the bloodlust and the oppressive weight of cold, night-dark skies and maddening, feverish moonlight. Corrupted forests and behemoth creatures sink back to cloaked forms beneath eternal mist and slowly but surely, the shackles in which she binds both herself and Lukoith are put back into place. The gilded cage returns too, as the gentleman facade is donned again. With Ko'an now on his feet, Divale will follow suit in cautious movements. It will take her longer and even upright she is visibly favouring her scarred leg; ever her weakness and so meticulously hidden until such times as these when it cannot be. She pushed herself too hard and too far and while not so stiff now, it will be agony at fresh start in the morning. Not that she will complain! Oh no. She'll grit her teeth and push through it, less all see her as weak… again. One sidelong glare will catch that change in Ko'an and the words she'd about to toss at him in taunting warning are cut off instead in a teeth-clenched grimace. He'll have to wander aimlessly on his own. He's not the only one partial to deserting others and Divale is in no mood to tempt another round with him. Glaring at him for a span of minutes as he wanders further away, she will not move until there is sufficient space in his retreat before she turns to make her own. Only her path turns her towards Kurkar Hold and familiar bolt holes only SHE would know of in able to curl up there in reasonable sanctuary, untroubled by the denizens who still lurk within the underground's depths. So long as she doesn't rouse suspicion or Ennrion's ire, she'll be left alone. Long enough that when she does wake from her semi-doze, Lukoith can be summoned (grudgingly) to come retrieve her back to the Weyr.

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