Who | |
What |
Aztrexia struggles with inner thoughts Adult Themes |
When |
-- On Pern -- |
Where |
Igen Caravan Grounds, Zingari Encampment |
OOC Date | 17 Jul 2017 06:00 |
Igen Caravan Grounds; Zingari Encampment
Deep grooves in the hard packed earth criss-cross a large patch of denuded ground, bearing mute testament to the caravans that frequent this area. Despite the midden holes set back a ways from the main center of traffic, the air is sweet, redolent with the sagebrush that forms a loose perimeter around the flattened expanse. In what is as close to its center as the vague boundaries suggest, a stone ringed fire pit has been dug and surrounded with the odd log or two, ash overflowing from its darkly blackened core.
It is the sixteenth day of Summer and 96 degrees. The night is clear, the wind stirring.
Timor:
Belior:
It’s getting late, and it’s not a performance night, so the Zingari camp is quiet save for a few late night conversations around the main fire and the lone plucking of one guitar. Aztrexia sits outside her yurt on the ground, leaning against a log and staring into her own small fire while absent mindedly braiding hair still wet from the baths. She’s quite used to her escorts at this point, and Igraine had at least turned her back to give Trexa some privacy while she bathed. She’s been quiet and brooding ever since her encounter with Javid in Hunter’s Pass. She’s followed every order given, and her silence is odd, to those that know the smart mouthed half breed.
Trexa has also avoided Javid like the plague, excepting when he’s on her detail. Then, she’s said as little as possible. She still hasn’t quite processed everything that happened in that cave. Flashes of it run through her mind, bringing a pink stain to her cheeks that she’s glad no one else can see. She’s so confused, at a tipping point and unsure which way to go.
Did she want to go back to the life she led before, forever an outcast, forever searching for who she is whilst taking work from the highest bidder?
No. That is most definitely not what she wants.
But does she want to stay amongst a people who view her a traitor? True or not, it still affects one’s moral when faced with as much loathing as she has been these last few sevens. Many still think she should have suffered the fate of the elders, or that she should have been banished. And by all technicality they were right.
And then, then there is the matter of Javid, and her more than fucked up feelings towards him. She hates the man, the one who drugged her for days, the one who refused to trust her word that she would not flee. She’d not been kidding when she’d told him the headaches were a real bitch. A few had been so bad she’d pretended to still be asleep at times when the drug had long worn off. Despite her treason, Javid had been her captor, jailor, and now official babysitter.
But then….
He hadn’t been completely callous in the cavern, and had for some reason, seemed like he cared about her. Otherwise, why would he have stuck his neck out to save her? WHy talk to Willimina at all? And why try so hard to get her to see life from his point of view? She just does not understand it.
And then there was what happened after the cave and the thought of it fills Aztrexia with a wealth of feelings and questions she almost dares not examine. Having never felt love or affection from anyone before it is alien to Aztrexia to feel anything like that now. What drove the heat shared between Javid and herself? What had that encounter been? He’d not made one move towards her since.
Had the encounter been just a result of heightened tempers and frustration? Had he taken what he wanted and been satisfied? Who would want to be with a woman who’s blood was as filthy as her own? Javid had mentioned that didn’t matter anymore…half of her thinks it was just a ploy to sooth her feathers, because of course it matters. A Zingari of his rank should want a pretty Zingari girl of good blood to be with, not a mongrel. But then he’d showed such passion…and the other half of her dares to wonder what could be.
The thought is immediately spoiled when the thought of what could be slides past children. Her children would reap the downsides of her treason, would carry the shame of it through those who would hate Aztrexia for what she did. The thought brings tears to her eyes, yet another phenomena that Aztrexia is unused to. And beyond that crushing disappointment, Willimina would never allow such a joining.
Hazel eyes wander to Javid’s wagon, dark and silent because the Spymaster is not in residence. Why did he have to fill her with hope? What was it her mother used to say about hope? Oh yes…it breeds eternal misery. She dares hope that she can redeem herself, and has been trying, helping when asked, toeing the line as best she can. She dares hope that someday, she might not be branded a traitor. She dares to hope that someday someone might look at her the way Tallel looks at Willimina. Even as her traitorous heart and mind scream at her that this can never be true, that it will never happen and she will be left with only heartache.
The struggle here is real. That there is a sexual attraction between herself and Javid is of no question, where it stems from is. Aztrexia can barely sort through her feelings, let alone the alien ones that pop up at the most random times. The warmth she feels sometimes watching children who have loving parents raising them. The spark of molten heat that hits her every time Javid comes into view, that pushes her to want to get under his skin again, to see if the reaction is the same. The disappointment she feels when she doesn’t have the guts to try. The shame she feels when she slinks away to Igraine just so that she doesn’t have to feel awkward around Javid because all she wants to do is touch him and then strangle him.
And she’s hurt, a fact that makes her disgusted with herself, that he hasn’t said, or done anything since that night in the caves. She knows they cannot be open about what happened between them, it would be sheer suicide to do so, but a sign, a signal, something to tell her that it wasn’t all in her head, that she wasn’t hoping for nothing, that she isn’t just a stupid fool, would be nice.
The flames of the fire burn lower and Aztrexia gives up on braiding her hair, shaking the half made things out, leaving her hair to curl widely about her face. She pulls her legs up, chin resting on her knees and stares deeply into the fire. So many quandaries to work through, riddles to solve and milestones to make. It all seems overwhelming to a girl who has spent most of her life doing just as she liked because she was ignored well enough to do so.
The process of it all is exhausting and after a time, Aztrexia stands and kicks sand over the dying embers of her fire and heads into her yurt with the intent to sleep. Whether her troubled mind will allow her to do so is another matter. One thing is for certain. She and a certain Spymaster need to have a talk. And soon.