➸ Jнᴏ'ᴛuʀʀ ᴛнᴇ Fᴀᴛнᴇʀʟʏ Sᴀνᴀɢᴇ ➸
๑ ≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎ ๑
Do you remember when we first met?" Shiak'se shifted her weight on his chest, lifting her face to look at him with those sweet brown eyes of hers. He was still panting from their lovemaking, arm under his head while his other hand stroked at her shoulder as they cuddled in his bedroll.
"It was.. when my family traveled to see yours. You dumped a bowl of scorpions in my pants when I tried to kiss your cheek."
Her laugh made his torso move and he smirked at the feeling. "And then you went running to your papa saying you didn't want to marry me because you thought our children would be spiteful, cursed with scorpion poison." She'd let out another soft laugh, but this held an undertone of weight.
"Shiak'se.." He stroked her arm as he kissed the top of her head. He could feel the sadness in her voice, how she wished she could have her own children. "There's nothing wrong in taking joy in the others' children."
"I know." She moved again, sliding to his side as she rested her head on his shoulder, arm across his chest and leg lifted to rest against his thighs. "But they will never be my own." A kiss was placed on his chest and he sat up on his arm, leaning down to kiss her deeply. "Lu'aia already has three from you, and she's younger than I. I heard her say I was cursed, by-"
"I love you, Shiak'se. I don't care that you can't bare children. You are still my wife-"
"One of your wives."
"My first wife- and you will always hold that place in my heart." He kissed her again, and he felt her relax against him, feeling quickly at ease in his arms.
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That memory burned into his mind as he ran. He couldn't look back. Not now. Not after he'd already shown his cowardice. Shiak'se encouraged him to run, knowing the implications if he did so. She wanted him to save himself, and he took the chance, leaving her, Lu'aia, his five other wives and children behind along with his tribe. They were a strong group, each having a magical ability to protect themselves and work together to fight off their enemies. Jho'turr was physically strong, but when two groups of magically inclined people start fighting each other, the one person without magic is usually the one hiding behind a rock. Or caught in the crossfire. He had little time to think, trusting his wives and his tribe in a fight that they could not win. It was a false trust, and he knew he should have stayed behind to fight and die like a true tribesman warrior. But he was afraid. He was a coward. And now, he had no family to return to, with no magical ability to speak of. Edite had not graced him with that. He was good for fathering children he could not protect.
Stopping to rest, finally out of earshot of the screams and shouts of his family and the people from Arc'hilde, Jho'turr placed his hand against a tree and gasped for air as the trees above opened their covering to allow in the night sky and the moon's magic from above. "Fi aye nak..." He managed out between breaths, "K'sa Edite, Yin... Rof ru'oy p'leh. I am a coward.. give them strength. Let them be successful!" He sank to the ground from weakness in his knees and heaved, losing the contents of whatever was in his stomach. Shaking, he wiped his mouth as he sat back on his ankles and looked up at the stars above, the moon's light washing over him. "But who are you, to answer the prayers of a cowardly man. I have no right to ask." He finished sadly as he stood, continuing on his way.
For days he made his way through the forest of Edirthe, not because he was lost, but because he had a strange feeling it would be a long time before he would come back here, and he felt ashamed to attempt to return home now.
A rumbling in the ground set his nerves on edge and he stopped. An earthquake? Swaying a little, he leaned against a tree for support as he looked around, feeling the ground underneath him finally settle. After a moment an explosion made his ears ring and he clasped his hands over his ears. What in Edite.. He continued on, a little worried, and as he walked up a small incline, the echoes of shouts and more magical abilities being used met his ears. Stiffening in his place, he was scared another tribe had been attacked. Should he run now? Be a coward once more? Swallowing hard, he felt adrenaline rush through him and he bolted forward, the sounds becoming louder. Was that a growl? What sort of beast did the Arc'hildeans have that could create such a terrific sound? Sliding to a halt, Jho'turr pressed himself against a tree and peered around it, watching in the clearing ahead a battle that was being won by a single creature. A massive beast with horns slung a scythe around, spraying the grass with blood from it's fallen prey. Eyes widening, he sank to his ankles and watched, hand over his mouth as he could not look away. The Arc'hildean group was slaughtered in a matter of minutes. It then sauntered down an embankment an sliced to it's left, to it's right- it was attacking a different group of people now. Unable to look away, he moved around the tree and watched wide eyed as the creature raised it's scythe again to a man who was on the ground.
It was a woman's shouts that stopped it. She was calling for someone, worry in her voice. He couldn't see who it was as she was up a little further from where the creature was. It stumbled, and Jho'turr watched as the beast seemed confused. Someone from the group ahead (was it the woman?) bolted into the forest, and Jho'turr huddled against the tree again opposite of the side she ran past, and the beast growled, quickly running after her. What sort of madwoman was she? That was something a tribeswoman would do, not one of these kingdom's women.
After several long moments, he stood slowly as he heard her return, followed by a man. She must have slain the beast, and this man helped her. Watching carefully, he saw them gather the dead bodies of their comrades, perhaps over fifty of them, and saw the bulk of the man she'd walked with easily carry them and place them in lines, kneeling next to each one and closing their eyes, muttering something before moving on to the next. They didn't bother with the Arc'hildean dead. In fact, they rather proudly walked over and stabbed a flag into the ground, that of one of the southern kingdoms. Was it Al'mil? And why would they take credit for a battle they did not participate in? It was the beast that killed them all. As the brute of a man continued back to his group, Jho'turr recognized the woman now that she was walking close enough to the edge of the treeline as a tribeswoman after all. Long, thick curled hair, dark skin, even wearing traditional fighting clothes. Since when did the kingdoms ally with the tribes they worked so hard to wipe out?
The brute shouted something as he was approaching the trees, and Jho'turr took a slow step back.
"Efil si ton a tro'hs yenro uj." It was the first part of a greeting, and it was to let her know which tribe he was from.
The brute turned to the tribeswoman and asked her something as she stared toward the trees in the direction he was.
.
.
.
.