Things They Won't Talk About Later //Tundra and Verdana//

[Verdana]

When I grow up a bit, and have what happened to me at this moment explained to me, I will understand what happened: The power of the realm you travel through when you flit is very strong. If you enter it, breaking the boundary, it will pull at you. Which is why flitting goes so fast and takes so much control. However, if you break the barrier, and then try to pull back, it's not gonna work so good. Some of you will go, and the rest of you will stay. This is a rather traumatic experience, that can lead to long-term emotional scarring. Of course, this will be the simplified version I will get, after people try and fail to explain properly.

For now, however, all I know is that I feel terrible.

My mind is not a coherent place. All it registers is extreme discomfort. It's not quite pain (except for my left arm, which aches slightly) but it's not nice and fuzzy and warm, either. I don't know how long I lie there. Time ceases to have a meaning for me. I just howl myself hoarse, unable to stop. I think I convulse. I'm not sure. I only become vaguely aware when something joins me. I can't breathe. I don't... I sense it next to me, a little shadow in the packed ballroom of odd and unpleasant sensations. My left arm feels wet. My ear feels like it's rubbing against cloth. My head feels far too cold. One of my legs feels really strange, as if it's in water. The other is dry. And... I can see something. I can't make it stop. It's as if my right eye was open, and looking at a startled family in the middle of supper. There's a middle-aged woman, her hair streaked with grey. She's attractive, but worn-looking and tired. There's a very tall boy. There's a pale girl with eyes like fire. There are two toddlers in high chairs. Then the elder woman relaxes, and says something to the rest, who answer back with various expressions of incredulity. I hear nothing of their exchange.

Needless to say, someone joining me where most of my body lies is not as world-shattering as the rest of this is.

I'm still wailing, still yowling like an animal, when I feel it lifting me. My eyes open. One does it properly, the other flickers, opens, but nothing happens. The dry feeling of my eyelid opening against empty space makes me feel ill. I shudder, still wailing. With my remaining left eye, I see a face. In my mind, her face connects with safety. My yowling starts to quiet as I lose the strength to sustain it. But I can't stop shaking. I'm panting, and as she walks I keep up a sustained, tiny keening noise. She speaks to me, but I can't hear her. Not properly. I can't answer, anyway. I can't even begin to think coherently. My right eye watches the family. The elder woman walks up to it. Her face is sympathetic, her dark hair falls over her blue eyes. She takes a wet cloth and covers my sight organ, mercifully returning everything to black. I close my eyes and press my nose into a scrap of familiarity in this madness.

Then, mercifully, I lose consciousness until something warm and sweet touches my lips.


//In a farming village that's in way over its head//


The watching, growing crowd in the field are split in half about what to do about this anomaly. Half says that the good doctor should do his damndest to figure out what the floating arm thing is. The other half disagree, and think that they should all get as far from the thing as possible. The doctor's in the former category. He's fascinated by this delicate, floating limb, the way it moves and responds without being attached to any body. He touches it, feels it, washes the tomato juice and blood from it as tenderly as he would clean a baby's face.

Then the arm starts to convulse. A gasp goes around the field's inhabitants, and they simultaneously take a step back. The doctor runs back too, wracked with guilt. He's done something wrong. He's sure of it. He's hurt the poor thing. What should he do? He does all he knows. Assuming that he caused the thing to tremble and writhe because he'd hurt it, he takes out a small bone needle and some thread, pulls the thing into his arms (it falls with him, as if relieved to not have to float any more) and begins to dutifully stitch up the cut.

//Shay Messed Up//

As she sat on the floor, shocked and confused, Kuar hits the opposite wall. By the time the sickening crack of bone had finished bouncing around in Shaygrin's mind, she had remembered where she was and what had happened to get her there. The assassination attempt. The mutual enemy. The flight (haha, literally). Her house. The botched job. The Power. Kuar's Power. The fight.
Oh. Right. So, definitely not Vlad. Oops.
Shay looked up at Kuar, feeling incredibly embarrassed. What she had just done was not often considered appropriate behaviour. However, before she could apologised. She noticed the expression of pain on his face.

His wing. Right. She should help him with that.

Kuar! I... I'm so sorry... she gabbled, trying to stand up. However, Kuar was not going to forgive and forget that easily, and for good reason. He was absolutely livid, and before Shay could say any more, he had stormed out of the room. Shay sat where she was for a moment, stunned and trying to work out how to proceed. She suspected that going after him would have been very unwise. She wasn't sure that his death threat had been hollow. She had to give him some time. But, that meant that she'd have to do something in that time, besides sitting on the floor and feeling lost. She waited until she could no longer hear Kuar, and then she hauled herself rather unsteadily to her feet.

She decided that she was hungry. She went off in search of a kitchen.

This was not as easy as it sounded. Shaygrin had a truly phenomenal nose. She could track down a needle in a haystack with only her nostrils. However, those marvellous nostrils were clogged with blood, rendering her olfactorily blind. She was also rather out of sorts. So, she charged around the house like a bull which has not had quite enough tranquiliser, before she actually found the kitchen.

She spent no time looking around, and made a beeline for one of the cupboards. She found everything she needed and wanted. She almost instantly decided that she needed something soft (moving her mouth too much made her nose and jaw hurt, as well as the rest of her) and rich, for she was starving.

Custard seemed a good solution.

She combined eggs and cream and other assorted useful ingredients, and set it to simmer. She stirred it thoughtfully, until it was the right consistency. Custard was one of the few things that Shay could cook. She took no interest in cooking whatsoever, but a girl had to eat. Thus, she had the few recipes she knew down to a fine art. When the liquid had become a pleasant goo, she took it off the heat and filled a wooden bowl with it. There she would have ended, but something made her pause. Almost absently, she filled a second bowl.

It was not hard to find Kuar. He was in the room she had been in. She could feel the alcohol prickling her eyeballs. Not silently enough, she laid the second bowl of faintly-steaming custard outside the door, and then walked away, feeling regretful. It was not her place to interfere. When he was ready, he'd come out.

Hopefully, by that time she'd be able to think about what she'd done without squirming.

It wasn't likely.

[Tundra]

Kuar clawed lightly at the bedding on his bed. He didn't want to damage it, more he just wanted to relive himself of the anger that was boiling up in his chest. His wing's pain had subsided to a dull throbbing with each beat of his heart. His tail stung only lightly now since it was braced and he could flick it without moving the broken bone. His eye on the other hand screamed like a raging fire on his face. Kuar lightly reached up and ran his claw lightly over the damaged skin. He would need a bandage covering that entire side of his face, which also meant he wasn't going to going anywhere in awhile. His wing alone prevented his usual means of travel, not to mention while splinted he couldn't hide them under his cloak. He sighed still angry, but at what he didn't really know. To say the honest truth he wasn't angry at Shay, he, could understand her, mistake. Who know's how long it had been since she had slept by someone. And, whoever she last slept by obviously had feelings for her, or she him. Either way she could easily in a state of pain and grogginess make such a mistake.

But Kuar just laid there, tired and frusterated at himself for jumping so harshly. If he had reacted his normal way though, Shay probably wouldn't be up cooking. Wait...she was cooking? He looked up at the door and sniffed the air trying to make out what she was making. Custard? was that what he was smelling?...interesting choice of breakfast, but he really didn't care much as he heard his stomach rumble in hunger. Kuar pulled himself carefully off the bed and crept to the door, opening it just slightly to look out. And there, right before the door sat a bowl. He looked at it for a few before reaching out and grabbing it and closing the door behind him. He was to hungry to complain really, not to mention check the food to make sue she hadn't poisoned it. He ate it carefully, not wanting to tear the skin near his eye. Sooner then later, the bowl was empty, and he was sitting alone again, nothing to do but mope in agony from his wounds. So, he decided to leave the room, it was better if he wasn't in there right now anyway.

he opened the door tenderly, makings sure his wing and tail did not bump into the door frame as he walked out. He glanced at shay before dropping the bowl next to the cleaning area. Shay had left the room a mess, but he really wasn't in a mood to clean it. He sighed walking back out and leaning against the wall opposite of Shay pondering exactly what he was going to do. She hadn't meant harm, and he knew this. So, he looked to the ground saying "You don't have any idea how much that hurt......but....I..know you..were..confused..or..miss lead....lets..just leave it at that and move on..." He looked away from Shay, his wounded eye now clearly visible to her. It needed tending, but, Kuar was so scared he would screw up and blind himself that he couldn't do it himself.

[Verdana]

//ADHD? Perhaps//

It has been a very, very long day. Vlad's towed me around the multiverse and gotten me into plenty of trouble. I think that I'm beginning to hate him. I am tired, and we're about to launch into another large war which I wholeheartedly don't approve of. I don't want to whine, but I'm sore and hungry and moving is not a top priority for me.

And then comes a saving grace.

We'll have to wait a while. I watch Vlad sit down, then mirror him, plonking down beside him with a little huff. Good. This is good. We'll both get to relax a little, Vlad can catch up on some sleep (he's still weak) and I can do the same. I want to know what Nate is (from the day before), and what the funny loopy sign is (were they calling me crazy?) but I don't ask. I can be patient. Just watch me. I can ask later, when we've rested. Yeah. I can wait.

I can totally wait.

Just watch me waiting.

I'm good at waiting.

I've been wanting a break for ages now.

This feels good.

Hmm.

Yeah.

I shift to look at Vlad briefly, to see what he's doing. He's just sitting there. Okay. I look quickly away so that he doesn't notice me looking, and stare resolutely ahead.

I can be perfectly still.

Still like a tree...

Wait, trees move, don't they? They grow and stuff.

Still like a rock then.

Yes, still like a rock.

...

I wonder how long we'll be waiting?

It's no use. I shift, shift again. I haven't had time to sit still, just stop and smell the roses, for what, years? Whenever I get the chance to relax, I don't appreciate it because I'm too busy sleeping off the worst of my latest injury. Now I've gotten exactly what I wanted. I'm alone with Vlad, we have nothing to do except enjoy each other's company for an indefinite amount of time. I thought I'd enjoy this. No, I am enjoying this. But that's not entirely honest, is it, Shay? Not the Power lecturing me, just my head.

Who am I kidding? I'm bored.

I shift again, crossing my legs, then uncrossing them, then playing my toes of my boots into the ground like the noses of terriers searching for moles. I smack my lips. I try to sit still again, but I find I can't. I pluck some blades of grass and try to plait them. One breaks, so I have to replace it. I keep going. Another blade breaks. Who knew grass would be so weak? As soon as I replace that one, the third one snaps, and I toss the thing away from me with a growl of frustration.

I pick up a stone. I bounce it in my hand. Then I bounce it from hand to hand. Then I bounce it onto my knee. Then from knee to knee. Then from hand to hand to knee to knee. Then I get daring, and try to bounce it onto my head. The little pebble shoots straight into my eye. I jolt in pain, but don't make a sound. I rub the tender skin on the side of my face, hoping against all hope that Vlad didn't see that. My play with the pebble comes to an abrupt halt after that. I decide that maybe it's wisest just to copy Vlad after all, and sit still. Sitting still can't harm anyone. Unless they get pins-and-needles, and try to stand up, and fall on their faces and break their noses and...

That's not helping! I start to whistle to myself, a little sea shanty that we used to sing when times were tough (and let's admit it, we'd had more than enough rum to go around). It's got a wry, ironic sort of sound to it, and I like the way it feels on my lips. But what if it's bothering Vlad? I falter, and glance at him. He hasn't moved, but that doesn't mean much. He's much better at not moving than me. He doesn't even need to breathe. So I stop, and try to meditate. For a while. Soon I'm whistling again, and tapping the ground, and glancing to Vlad every now and then to see what he's up to.

Is the waiting over yet?

//Making Amends//

Shay decided to eat in the kitchen. This seemed safer than venturing into the rest of the house. So, once she'd delivered her odd peace offering to Kuar, she went back to the room and ate her own custard. She could not taste it, really. Her nose was full of dried blood. Nonetheless, she could feel the sweetness on her tongue, and it felt good. She slurped it up with increasing enjoyment, and eventually pushed the empty bowl away from herself with regret written all over her sticky face. That, she thought, was good custard. She had emptied the pot, but went to check anyway. It was still empty. She looked around at the kitchen. Cracked eggs and bottles of cream were strewn everywhere. She told herself that she would clean it up. She was lying.

The door shuddered open, and there was Kuar. He was a sight for sore eyes, but Shay suspected that she was too. She watched him, wary and uncertain, but instead of berating her, he forgave her. Sort of. She raised an eyebrow to this, and smirked slightly. She was feeling far more like herself after eating.
What, didn't like it? she mocked, stepping forwards to do a bit of teasing. But then Kuar turned his face, and she inadvertently gasped.
Oh, Kuar! Your face!

She'd done that. She remembered her body doing that. How had she not taken care of that before?
Sit down, she urged.
Where's the alcohol and a needle? I'm going to sort that gash out. It's going to leave an impressive scar, but with any luck I can still stop it pulling at the rest of your face.

[Tundra]

Kuar flinched back from shay when she suddenly picked up her voice. Actually to say the truth his hearing right now was being pushed to its limits because his body was trying to make sure he didn't end up hurt again. He looked at Shay with a doubtful look as she seemed concerned about the would SHE had inflicted. He backed off slightly before seeing in her eyes that she indeed wanted to help. He was still doubtful, but he knew he was to scared to tend it himself. Why not let another tend it? As long as she didn't screw up, he would be fine. He sighed moving so he could sit down in one of the many chairs saying "The..Alcohol is where you left it last yesterday....cloth in the kitchen in the third drawer, and the wraps and bandages..in the cabinet where they should be. Anything else you need will be there as well." He sighed letting his head rest on his arms.

He was still tired, his eyes slowly closing as Shay moved around the room and gathered the supplies and began work on his eye. O how it hurt like a son of a female dog. Kuar found his claws dug quite deep into the frail wood of the chair when she finally finished and tied off the stitch. Kuar remained there for a bit, his claws still latched into the wood before slowly releasing. He looked at Shay for a few and said "Thanks...." His tail flicked lightly, small bits of pain shooting up his spine as he did though. It was not nearly as bad as it was before he bound it, and suprisingly his eye did feel better. He smiled lightly, only enough that if one really looked they could see it. "Your going to clean up the kitchen, you know that right?...As is I have to clean up out here...Conis would kill me if he was alive now........" Kuars voice trailed off as he looked at Conis's picture on the wall. It was one of the few that had managed to stay up. Stubborn as always as one could look at this. Kuar shighed lifting himself off the chair and moving to pick up the fallen paintings. He would have to put new wall material in, either that leave the gap. but he felt like restoring the place like that of when Conis lived here. It, just seemed different if it wasn't.

[Verdana]

//Boredom Continued//

I whistle to myself, growing slowly louder as I go. I know I should stop, for all the reasons I have discussed in my head, but I can't. I can't, because I fear that I may go insane if I let the peaceful tranquility pervade my skull. Hah! Insane? I'm already insane. No, I'm not. Obviously I'm not. I couldn't be. But you are, Shay. Let's look at the evidence. Evidence? I don't have time for... Oh. Right. Aware that it would be a welcome distraction from the stillness, I compile the following list to prove my insanity:

Why Shaygrin Is Insane

1. I ran around naked in a public marketplace. This does not prove my insanity in any way, but the odd sense of satisfaction I gained from the incident does.
2. I talk to myself in my mind. Not to the Power (that's a whole different point entirely) but just to me. I have in-depth arguments with myself, too. Isn't that supposed to be a telltale sign of madness?
3. The Power. Need I say more? In case I do: Is it some other-wordly being that is guiding me to fulfill its own plot, or is it just the part of my mind which wants world domination? You see my point?
4. When Vlad's in serious lecture mode, I sometimes get the overwhelming urge to bite the side of his neck. Or do other strange things. Just to see how he'd react. Even though I know I should be listening and taking notes or something.
5. Sometimes, when I dream, I see things that happened hundreds of years ago, or that haven't happened yet. Hey, it may just be my subconscious.
6. I once took an elephant and...

I could have gone on (boy, could I have gone on!) but I get distracted. I've been whistling all the way through my listing, and now I notice something. The sounds doesn't feel right. I can't place it. It's not bad, it's just not... Not what I'm used to. Still letting my little tune weave the air, I try to place what's wrong with the noise. Not wrong, as such but... You know what I mean. I listen carefully, and it starts to make sense. The sound's... It's not my whistle. It's higher. But not only that. It's kind of like when you... It's as if...

No.

No, that's completely out of his character.

He would never...

Would he?

I listen hard, resisting the urge to turn around to look with all my heart and determination. It can't be Vlad. He's not... He doesn't... Only, I know better. Sometimes, when we're not in danger and he's not trying desperately to make me learn things, I see this side of him peeking out. The playful, boyish side. Maybe that's what's happened. I hope so. He's a good whistler, if it's him. Whistling is an under-appreciated art form. A good whistler is hard to find. Vlad, if it is him, is very good. He's a master. That's what persuades me that it's him, actually. If Vlad does anything, he's sure to be very good at it. It's one of the things that makes me feel so safe with him.

I want to look, to confirm my suspicions, but I hold myself back. I don't want him to know that I've noticed. I'm so used to him being serious and prim that I'm scared that, if I acknowledge him, he'll stop, and we'll lose this moment of perfect unity. And, at first, that fear keeps my head still. But slowly, the desire to know for sure starts to win out. Before long, I can't take it any longer. Moving only my eyes, at snail's pace, I look towards the vampyre, whistling all the while so that he won't suspect anything.

Yes, it's him. I know it now. It's hard, but I refrain from smiling. I whistle on, a glow of contentment spreading through me at the beautiful sound we're making together. Then I start to get daring. Let's see how well he can go when I start to change the tune. Abruptly, I change the whistle to a quicker, more upbeat and playful. He falters, but soon picks up, working hard to adjust. I feel a surge of triumph. Not so great when the unexpected happens, are you? It makes me feel good, to know that he's imperfect, like me. It makes us seem closer. More alike.

I want to see his face again. I glance to the side, and his eyes are waiting to meet mine. My eyes widen, I blush, mortified. Now it's over. Now we'll finish. But deep inside, I know my fears are groundless. He looks at me, and he smiles. That smile is a picture I'll hold in my head when times are tough and I feel alone. It's impish, playful, but at the same time so gentle and loving that it makes me want to melt. What in the name of the knife was I worrying about? Vlad's himself and no one else. He wouldn't stop. He'd never stop.

We play around with tunes and rhythms, until we fix on one we like. No word is shared, no thought; we just whistle. And then Vlad stands up. I watch him, perplexed, as he bends down and regally offers a hand, his face mock-serious, eyes twinkling. I take it with a teasing curtsy, realising his plan too late. He takes my warm, small hands in his cold, big ones, changes the rhythm of the whistle (which I helplessly adopt) and he begins a dance.

I'm sure we've been through this. Me and dancing? Not a good mix. I have two left feet (unless I'm fighting or stealing something) and the last time I practiced was at the Mozart concert. I try my best, but I'm just not cut out for it. We try a waltz, a foxtrot, a gavotte, all to no avail. I just can't dance the way he wants to. He notes my frustration and despair with concern, and then he changes tack. We start to dance in a way far more reminiscent to the twirling madness in a bar.

That's where I find my balance. This kind of hip-swaying, flexing, sashaying, flirtatious step, with no rules or guidelines, just the beat in your ears and what cones first to your head? That I can do. I start to beam, and I close my eyes rapturously, aware of Vlad beside me but not very much else. We are in sync, merged in movement. I love it. I'm aware, briefly, of a lifting motion, but I assume it's my own adrenaline, and think nothing more of it. That is, until Vlad stops.

I continue dancing for a split second, unaware of anything besides the rhythm in my head. We'd stopped whistling some time ago due to lack of breath, but I hadn't been aware of anything. My mistake. When I notice that Vlad's not moving any more, i stop dead, my eyes snapping open. I don't like what I see. We're being watched, by Amaya and someone else, someone who gives me the creeps. I wonder for a moment why we're so much higher up than them, and then notice that we've ended up on the table. I have no idea how.

Next to me, Vlad's not happy. I know him well, and that's why I can feel his keen embarrassment emanating from him. He covers it up with curtness and a rather aggressive attitude. One he's used more than a few times on me. Is that why? Was he embarrassed? I look upon the newcomer, called Nate, with interest. She seems to like Vlad as much as he likes her. Great. Then my hand is grabbed, something I'm getting rather used to, and I am towed along in Vlad's wake.

He makes for our rooms. Or, my room. Or, his room? I'm not sure of the logistics. I am unable to do anything but try to keep up. He whisks me in there, closes the door. Then, breathless and elated, I begin to laugh in great, mirthful whoops. I laugh and laugh until my legs can't hold me up any more, and even when I'm sprawled out on the floor I keep on laughing. That was the most fun I've had in ages. Please, let it be repeated!

//Forgiven and Forgotten//

So Shaygrin went about fixing up the wound on Kuar's head as best she could. As she did so, she tried to forget that she had been the person to cause the wound. It was a sickening thought. It was red and very swollen, the flesh obviously tender to the touch. Kuar stayed mercifully still, but Shay could tell that she was causing him no little discomfort. She tried to balance swiftness with tenderness, but there was no way to make the process any less painful. By the time she tied off the last stitch, Kuar had done considerable damage to the kitchen table. He thanked her gravely, and she patted his shoulder.
Good boy. Well done. It should heal without infection, but it will leave an impressive scar. I'm sorry.
She was, too. Deeply so.

I'll clean up the kitchen. She tactfully left out when she would do so. Shaygrin avoided household chores as if they would bite her. In a sense, this is what she imagined. They'd seep into her, slowly turning her into the idyllic woman that the Power and Vlad wanted her so desperately to be. She nibbled her lip thoughtfully, observing Kuar's tired face. He looked almost lost. Kind of... Longing.

I'll help you clean up, Shay said quietly. She put a hand on his arm. She wasn't sure how to phrase the question she wanted to ask without upsetting him. Eventually, she just asked it. Shay had never been a champion of tact.
What happened to Conis?

[Tundra]

Kuar looked at Shay as she apologized and said "were both equal in the blame for the wounds, there isn't any need to apologize..anymore.." He sighed lifting a piece of the drywall and tossing it into the trash. That was about when Shay set her hand on his shoulder and offered to help. Kuar sat there for a bit feeling oddly comforted by her offer to help. Maybe it was the fact that he was tired and worn. No matter what it was he gave a nod in acceptance and moved to fixing the paintings that were scattered on the floor. His tail flicked in thought for awhile as he worked, the floor starting to look somewhat clean..despite the blood splatter on the wall, and all over the floor.

That was about when Shay asked what had happened to Conis. Kuar stopped suddenly standing there for awhile caught in his own memory suddenly.

'the day was normal, just like any other. Kuar and Conis were training together in the training room. Blades clashing, magic flying. Everything was normal, and on schedule. Conis decided it was time to break, but Kuar decided he would keep working on his form. Conis nodded in agreement, but didn't join him in doing so. He went up stairs. Kuar wove his tail almost like a serpent through the air slicing at an invisible opponent. It was a few before Kuar heard a clear thunk against the wall. Stopping almost immediately he knew the sound all to well. A dagger, hitting drywall. Kuar grabbed one of the blades from the wall and rushed up the steps to find the door locked. He hissed in anger and started slamming his shoulder into it. Finally the hinges gave way and Kuar burst though the door. But, it was to late. On the floor, in a pool of his own blood lay Conis. There was a man there, standing tall and proud, and seemed to smile when he noticed Kuar. He started for the window to escape, but, misjudged the speed in which Kuar could move and found himself in the air..but towards a wall.'

Kuar shook himself out of the daydream. It had only been a matter of seconds, but Kuar still felt like it had been hours. He flicked his tail in annoyance. Kuar remembered the day clear as day, how he had slipped his claws deep into the assassins chest and basically tore the mans heart out in sheer anger. Kuar would never forget the savage way he killed that day, it was the first time his feral side had come out. How could he forget. He finally turned to look at Shay with a look of sorrow, pain, and anger.

Finally he answered, his voice cracking slightly as as the words slipped from his mouth. "Assassinated by a rival, or the man was hired. Either way I didn't stop to ask the man, before I ripped his heart out......" the words took on a sound of hatred as he mentioned killing the man, and the means he used to do so. He flicked his tail moving to return a painting to the wall. He needed to get his mind of this, otherwise he may start showing his emotions about the whole thing though tears. He hated crying, but he had that day, greatly, and every time he thought about, tears just welled up in his eyes. Like now, a small tear trickled, mush to his displeasure down his cheek. Kuar reached up and wiped it away and sighed saying "Please Shay, don't inquire about him anymore...I..still have trouble talking about it..." He flicked his tail turing away so Shay couldn't see anymore tears that happened to form at the thought of Conis. He sighed and started working to get some of the shelves fixed, which had been shifted from Shay hitting the wall the first time.

[Verdana]

//England//

It was when Kuar went dark and broody in response to her question that Shay remembered Conis. Dark night. Blood on her hands. A knife at her throat. But... He had released her. He had not killed her for killing on his turf, which was the usual penalty for such an offense. He'd let her go unscathed, save for a tiny scar at the nape of her neck. She'd liked him for that reason, but been indebted to him. She supposed that this debt carried over to Kuar. She didn't like being in debt. Not at all. So she looked away and did not mention it.

Her eyes went soft when he described, with pain in his voice, the ill-fated end of his mentor. Her heart went cold when he described the punishment he had delivered. She wanted to say that she had liked his mentor, that he'd been a good man. However, Kuar made it very clear that he wasn't interested in discussing it. This was fine by her. She was no good at the mushy stuff. She wasn't good at reassurance or comfort. She was too tough for that sort of thing. So she looked way, feeling inadequate, and didn't say a word.

Instead, she wandered off and started to clean up. In Shay world, this consisted of piling up and redistributing bits of rubble. She worked industriously for about five minutes. Then she started getting bored. She began to arrange the rubble into exciting patterns. She made little brick snowmen and glass ships. She cut her finger and swore, but compared to the pain she felt in her back every time she bent down, it was nothing.
I'm getting old, she thought miserably, picking up a bit of rubble and tossing it over her shoulder.

It hit Kuar neatly in the head.

[Tundra]

Kuar's tail flicked as he pulled his mind off of Conis. He went to cleaning again, moving things back into place when suddenly, he felt something hit the back of his head. He turned his head looking at shay a questioning look, but then realized she had done it subconsciously. He looked at the piece in his hand, before deciding to just suddenly toss it at her, hitting her in the back of her head. He turned back to his work acting as though nothing had happened. He probably would regret it, but it was a spur of the moment idea. He had to pause though, his shoulder finally getting to him. Even if it had only been a dislocation, it still hurt like hell and needed to heal itself. He reached up and rubbed it trying to ease out the pain, flinching each and every time it moved. He sighed, this cleaning was getting nowhere. He could tell Shay was bored, then again, who couldn't. He yawned before moving over to the small balcony and looking out over the city.

Their lives, passing each day, so simple,unknown to their minds of the death and dispare that happened in the shadows. Sometimes Kuar wished his life was that simple, but that never could have been. He had always been a killer, it was natural to him. Conis, had used that skill to his advantage, and had taught Kuar how to be civil. All in all, Conis had been like a father to him. Kuar sighed returning to the room to work some more, though found himself yawning and looking toward the room.

[Verdana]

There she was, cleaning industriously (or, so she thought) when something hit her in the back of her head. She paused, hunched over. Had that... No, it hadn't... She looked around, just quickly enough to see Kuar turning away. What had he been thinking, throwing something at her? That had been completely uncalled for. It was cruel, that's what it had been. Shay told herself that she'd be the bigger person. She'd pretend that it hadn't happened. After all, she was a responsible adult. Adults did not throw things at fellow adults. It was irresponsible. It was immature. It was a testament to her self-control that she was not responding.

However, the longer she waited, the more indignant she became. Until, suddenly and almost without permission from her brain, her arm picked up a piece of drywall. Her body whipped around, and while her brain watched, bemused, she hurled it at Kuar. It smacked into his back and crumbled. She watched, with equal astonishment, as she picked up a hefty piece of wood. With a grunt of pain (her body was not at all up to physical exertion; even walking was an effort) she tossed it at the demon. It hit him on the back of the leg, and made a decidedly pleasant clunking noise on contact. Even better was the rattle it made as it hit the ground.

With that noise, throwing things at Kuar became fun, and Shay started to throw whatever she could reach at him, grinning mischievously. It was only fair.

After all, he'd started it.

[Tundra]

Kuar was arranging things on a shelf when he felt it, a piece of drywall hit his back. It was soon followed by a fragment of wood hitting the back of his legs. He listened to the wood clatter to the floor, and before Shay could react again he grabbed a piece of drywall and threw it back at her. As another piece started flying at him, one could not even see his arm move as he grabbed it out of the air, just before it would have it him in the face. Though the look he gave her wasn't one of anger at the fact of her throwing things at him. It was more one of 'come on, throw another, I dare you' And with a smile he threw the piece back at her. This, lasted awhile, each one throwing pieces at each other until finally Kuar was leaning on one of the walls breathing hard because, he had actually been laughing. It took a lot to get him to laugh, at least in one of fun. He was mostly the type of person to show a lack of emotion on his face, but one could always read his eyes if he was sad, angry or anything of the sort.

He slid down to the floor holding his chest as his body protested whole heartedly at his recent actions. He chuckled lightly as he tried to catch his breath. He had been dodging pieces of debris and wore him self out. Through the whole thing he had actually been having fun, he, was a bit confused by the emotion. He really had only ever known fighting, killing, he never had time to have fun. Though one could say the art of assassinating something was fun, but he didn't agree with this. He sighed looking at Shay saying "how that started..I'll never know.....your the one who hit me first..." He chuckled lightly looking back at the wall near him. This, had cheered him up slightly, having been drug down by the recent events. Though, it looked as though the recent events had made him a friend, even if they were mortal enemies and only stayed together for power in numbers.