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strangeerror465 · 9 years

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A little something for myrrde that I promised a long time ago. Sorry for the wait my dear <3

“Kiri?”

The quiet rasp of Mûr’s voice was a drop of water into the calm of her mind, spreading ripples, slowly drawing her back. Both eyes opened, both able to see unobscured as she stared up at the ceiling. It was strange for her to be without the scrap of cloth that covered her left eye but it was stranger still for her to wear it while she was in the bath. The water around her was no longer hot enough that movement made it burn against her skin but was still hot enough to raise goosebumps along her spine if she shifted. Or if her bathmate did. He was across from her, his body warm, his normal scent of leather and herbs and the metals and oils he sometimes tinkered with muddied by the water they were in.

“Fah’kiri?” There was a hint of concern in his voice this time. Had he called her name more than she’d heard?

“Mm.” Came the soft response, a distracted response as she closed her eyes again, waiting a moment to open them again so she could focus on the ceiling again. “I’m here.”

Mûr lightly drew his fingers over her knee, causing the water to shift. The druid sighed softly at the change, shutting her eyes again.

“Where were you?” He asked, his voice so soft. He’d always been soft spoken.

Fah’kiri smiled slowly. It had been the right question. “Running. In a way.”

She could almost hear his frown at the answer, realizing a moment too late that it was worded wrong. “You need to run here?” From him.

“No. Not need. Just… Remembering. How it was and how it is now.” A weariness crept into her voice at the end. Mûr knew that she was no longer able to change into her tiger form, the form she’d prized above all others. In the past, when she’d been weaker it had been a refuge from those that meant harm. A way for her to feel stronger than she felt she was. Things had changed since those times, but she’d still loved her tiger skin. But it was gone. Whether for good or for now was yet to be seen. She still was hesitant to return to the night elves and seek guidance in their ways. Even if Shirvallah had abandoned her, she feared he might take offense.

“How is it now then?” Mûr’s fingers, lithe and skilled gently traced patterns against her calf. It was an idle movement but that he did it… they’d both come such a long ways from the people they’d been before.

Fah’kiri was silent, leaning back against the wooden edge of the bath before she shut her eyes again. A small smirk curled at the edges of her lips, not exactly happy. “Now it is not myself that runs. Or flies. Or hunts in the dark of night. For better or ill, I’ve found a way to roam without moving.”

In the silence that followed she could almost hear her friend’s confused frown. He didn’t ask and for a time she didn’t speak. But then guilt ate a bit at her and she sighed. Mystery had never been something that had sat well with her; in others or herself.

“I haven’t been very good recently.” She said quietly, wrapping her arms beneath her breasts in a small gesture meant to soothe herself. What she’d found she could do recently was both something she was a little proud of and unnerved by. The only person she’d spoken of it to had been the priest she stayed with and he had been less than thrilled by her behaviour. “I have been… reckless. That’s a good word for it. I…” She sighed and opened her eyes again. “I found it earlier this year when I was in Draenor. If I rest without sleeping, I can find myself looking through eyes that are not my own. It hasn’t been a person so far. I can stay away from those because I… I don’t want to be there. But I find myself looking through the eyes of a wolf or an eagle at times and I can feel what they are. … I leave myself. I always come back, but I leave.”

After a time, Mûr finally spoke again. “That does not sound very safe.” His voice was confused, hesitant. Matters of spirit were not his area of expertise. Matters of blades, blood, life and death were his.

“It isn’t.” Was all she could say in response. I’tan had been upset with her for being reckless. For leaving her spirit untethered and open to attack. A line of reasoning that she couldn’t exactly argue with. Or if she could, her arguments were feeble. That she was careful of where she left her body to rest, that she steered clear of others, that did not matter for there were spirits that were not of body that roamed and spirit callers whose range far exceeded what she knew. He had been right to be worried and upset with her for it.

“Then why do it?”

That had been a question she’d asked herself many a time. If she knew it was dangerous, why did she take the risk?

“Because it is quiet.” Came the soft response. “Even if I am along for a hunt, there is a stillness. A certainty. … Because I learn much from observing rather than doing. I am passive. The most I can do is give a small nudge but it is not definite.” And that she could do that made her stomach tighten unpleasantly.

“But it is still dangerous.”

“Yes.”

Mûr gave a small huff through his nose, thinking. “Is there a way to make it safer?”

“That is what we are trying to figure out.” Fah’kiri murmured. “The priest and I. Some sort of ward or talisman that will keep others from taking advantage. He has encouraged me to speak with other druids about this.”

“But you are not certain.” He filled in for her. It made her smile slightly. Mûr knew how she thought usually.

“No. I am not.” There were parts of her that were still healing. Raw patches that still felt so horribly open. Being around a multitude of new people without being able to steal away… A druid would be able to find her with ease if she took to the woods. After all, the elves knew so much more about the forest than she did. It would take much to make herself leave again in a place where she knew so little people. Where she would have to be so on guard again.

There was a moment’s hesitation before Mûr leaned forward, lightly prying one of her hands free to hold it in his own. “I am glad you came back.” He said quietly in a way that made her open her eyes and sit up a little so she could see him. “I have missed you.”

Kiri squeezed his hand gently, smiling softly at him. “I missed you too. A great deal. I am so happy to see you.” To see him so healthy. To see him more at peace. After being on his poisons for so long, the withdrawals must have been horrid but she hoped he would be able to stick them out. That he smiled when she spoke made her so happy.

After they’d soaked for awhile, they got out. Mûr let her comb his hair and tend to it and his fidgeting was far less than it had been months before. He sat in front of her, giving her his back. How long had it been into their friendship that he’d been able to give her so much trust?

She combed his hair gently with a wide toothed comb before running her hands through the dark red of it. Separating it into different locks was easy and when he asked her what she was doing, she gently shushed him and told him it was a surprise. Something that amused the both of them. The braid was simple, tied with a thin leather strap at the end and she hummed afterwards, taking his hand so she could help him feel the difference in texture.

“It looks good on you.” She grinned, giggling a little at the look he gave her.

When they crawled into the bed, Mûr simply ran his fingers through her shorter red hair, sniffing at it. It made her laugh again which made him chuckle. It had been far too long since they’d been together.

“Goodnight, silly man.” Fah’kiri hummed, closing her eyes.

“Goodnight, silly Kiri.” Came the equally amused response.

Sleep came quickly and there was no roaming. For now, there was no place she’d rather be.

#fah'kiri #mur #myrrde #writing #ocs

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fahkiri · 9 years

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Fah’kiri sighed, staring regretfully at her old journal. The poor thing was stuffed to the brim with new pages to the point that it couldn’t close normally. There was warping from water damage and the cover was battered quite a bit. It was time for her to use a new one.

Silently, she retrieved one of those she’d been given long ago. It was a pale blue color, with silver embossed vines and leaves along its borders. A gift that she hadn’t wanted to use unless it was necessary. The journal was of elven make, bu she wasn’t sure which elf. Night elf she would guess from the pattern, blood elves were rather more about fire and sun.

She opened it almost reverently, taking her time not to damage the spine. It would take a long while for it to get to the state her old journal was in and she wanted to keep it pretty for as long as she could.

Standing, she went to one of the shelves that held the inks she’d made the time before, sealed with wax to keep them from drying out. There were a few different shades she could choose from, but eventually she selected a dark green. As she sat down, she broke the seal and unstoppered the small wooden container. Wood wasn’t as good for storing ink as glass was, but glass was more breakable. To keep the ink from sinking into the wood, she coated the inside with a fat mixture that would dry and form a barrier so the wood wouldn’t absorb the ink. A useful trick she’d learned years ago.

A hollowed out reed worked as a pen and she wrote in Orcish on the front page.

My name is Fah’kiri. I am a druid of the Darkspear, with red hair, short tusks, a covered left eye, and am about six and a half feet tall. If I have died or vanished and this book is found, please return it to the priest I’tan in Sen’jin. There will be gold for its safe return.

Death had become common enough that it seemed a good thing to write in the beginning. If nothing else, it would ensure that her family and loved ones knew what had happened to her. And if she didn’t have proper death rites, perhaps I’tan could do something about it.

She scattered fine sand over the wet ink to help it dry, blowing on it gently until it set enough that she could turn the page. From there on, unless there was some other reason for it, the entries would be made in Zandali.

I am finally back in Sen’jin after a very long few months spent in the new lands of Draenor. T’saij returned from the dead, fully living in fact. He is worse for wear, but I believe he will recover. I hope he will. The Stormcrow needs a captain and for his crew to lose him... It would take something from them. Not that Bear would not be a competent captain , but they love the old tiger man. I should send some herbs to help make his sleep easier. He might not take them, but it is something.

So I return from my solitary journeys to see an old lover that treated me ill when we parted. Things between he and I are... Still difficult. Tangled. It is far too easy to fall into past habits even if I know that I cannot go back.

And so, after that I returned to Orgrimmar to check in with those I care for. Friends, people I once counted as anchors of a sort. So far all seems well enough. Their lives continue to turn with or without me. I believe some have missed me though.

Fah’kiri frowned and wrote a small note in the margin. I need to remember to get my armor to Kodohide before I leave again. Maybe I should get new armor entirely?

I visited Mur, continue to do so. He has stopped using his poisons, a development that causes me great joy and some worry. Physically he appears much healthier; he’s gained weight, his eyes are brighter, his fur and hair look brighter and have a healthy shine to them. I am not certain how his Shadow is keeping him though. So far I haven’t been able to make myself ask. It seems like he is happier, despite the added attention he’s getting from people. He was always nice to look at, him filling out has merely made it much easier for people to notice. His touches come easier as well.

And now I am in Sen’jin. I’tan is out, most likely on some call or another but he did not pack much so it is unlikely he will be gone long. I did not send word ahead of me, so hopefully it is a pleasant surprise for him to see me back.

She stopped, sighing through her nose and resting back against the wall for a time before she continued.

I still haven’t told them about many things that happened while I was away. When they asked, I simply said I had been travelling. Keeping to myself, healing every once in awhile. I haven’t told anyone that I can see better out of my left eye now, or what I see when I do. It’s to the point where I can take the patch off for longer periods of time without a headache beginning. The lights are easier to identify, what belongs to the living and the dead, which spirits are those of what once lived and those that are other. If you make enough offerings to the spirits of an area, not those of creature since passed but the ones that truly inhabit the area, akin to elementals, they will enshroud you. Make it more difficult for others to detect you. A part of me wonders if this isn’t something that rogues have done in the past or continue to do. Maybe I should ask Mur. Though he may scold me for being reckless.

I plan to speak with I’tan once he returns. About the fact that I can see golden ropes that attach to every living thing around me. Some of them are strong, like the ropes that they use to secure great ships at the docks, while others are barely the thickness of a spider’s silk. And about the fact that I can use those threads to draw a creature close and see through its eyes.

I must admit that is something I am nervous to share. I doubt I’tan would condemn me for it, but he would be irritated at my explorations of it. Even I myself admit that I have been reckless in this area. Seeing through the eyes of another creature leaves my body rather exposed. Open to attack. That is why the trees were so helpful as well as the spirits. I’tan’s tusks and their charms keep away anything that would try to possess me, but I cannot imagine he will be pleased.

These skills are helpful in scouting, though I make sure to give any other spell casters a wide berth. Becoming ensnared is the last thing I wish to do. I’ve managed to stretch the distance the animal can go from my body to quite a ways. Birds are rather interesting to take a ride with, as are wolves or the large cats. Smaller creatures like rats and mice make me feel panicky when I return. I find that it’s more helpful when I give them something in return for their troubles, though they do not seem to mind my presence much.

I know that hitching rides with these animals is another way to slip into a different skin. It makes me miss my cat form. I should return to Moon Glade, but I am not certain if I can stand to be there quite yet. Would the Cat Spirit even allow me use of her form? I don’t know.

#fah'kiri #writing

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