Absolution Ch 04

The first flickering glimpses of a pastel dawn eat away at the night sky, leeching out over the vast plains and and casting a subtle, warm glow over the water of a small lake. Deciduous trees rim the waterline line a verdant fringe, trailing vines cast curious tendrils down the shallow banks. Woodland creatures congregate in the sand, taking their last refreshing drink before creeping away to sleep through the brighter hours. One inquisitive chipmunk stops off the way back to his burrow in order to investigate the sight of two figures, entwined in one another's arms where they rest, invisible to the casual eye, beneath a thick copse of azalea bushes.

So warm, and strangely at ease, Adianna presses closer to the source of her comfort. The ground seems to shift beneath her and something soft and heavier than a blanket wraps around her back and shoulders. The scent of sandalwood and Jolen fills her nostrils. Opening one eye she glances up at the male kestrel whose embrace she is deeply ensconced in. His chest rises and falls rhythmically beneath her head, the steady heartbeat setting a soothing tempo. With a heavy sigh she presses her forehead to his chest, their cot felt oddly more spacious than usual. A tender brush against her mind gave her pause, until she realized that it was only Jolen reaching out in his sleep, ensuring she was there and safe beside him. Her fingers rise to caress his cheek as she responds to his mental touch with a soft flood of contentment and reassurance. A small smile steals across his lips as his arms and wings tighten around her snugly.

Despite the relative serenity of of the situation, something was irritating at the back of her mind, some point of interest that wanted her attention. Closing her eyes once more, Adianna reaches inwards towards the residence of her psionic powers, but the attempt is in vain as she finds herself unable to connect. Again she presses inward and again she meets with a cold resistance. Panicky now, she quickly reviews her memories, relieved to find them intact. A hasty catalogue of events leaves her shaking, tears threatening just below the surface, the unstable feelings vacillate between grief and rage, the latter finally winning out. With a hiss of anger, she throws herself from the cocoon of feathers, snatching up a discarded blade she whips around, straddling Jolen's waist and pressing the knife across his throat just as his eyes sleepily blink open.

***

"I was wondering if this would happen," Jolen murmurs in a half-whisper. His eyes slide shut again as he tips his head back. "You have every right to vengeance.." He reaches up and rests a hand gently upon Adianna's hip, the other touching her knife arm, directing it closer still. He inhales deeply and exhales, his ultramarine eyes slide open, peering back up at her. "Perhaps in death the weight of my sins will be lifted. I doubt it."

Adianna's enraged gaze fixes on Jolen, her jaw clenched, dark form silhouetted against the rising sun as she crouches over him. The restored connection between them enables Jolen a front row view to the intense struggle that the set expression on her face hides. The blade she holds is steady in her hand as she pushes it up tightly against Jolen's throat, forcing his chin to rise. Hate flashes in her eyes and beneath the surface, a dark well of longing churns, whipping her emotional state into a veritable hurricane of confusion and indecision.

"I did not come for you, for me... I love you, Adia, and I always shall. I have since the day I turned you away." Jolen shakes his head slightly, the blade scraping against his throat, cutting a thin line. "I came so that you could live and see her again. That is all that is important to me. That Latai know her beautiful mother.. to share time with her.. she deserves that at least from us. From you."

Adianna's struggle takes on a new face as the overwhelming desire to see her daughter again rises in her, fierce and painful, pressing it back down she shakes her head, "I canna, not with a full tribe o' Karsh on ma' heels. I could neva' put ha' in that kind o' danga'. I *will* see ha' agin', but it will haf' ta wait. Is...is she...what is she like?" Her expression grows wistful, the anger seeping out of it until she merely looks tired. The knife blade leaves Jolen's throat and the worn woman rises, moving to curl up disconsolately across the hollow from him.

"Always damned dirty, that girl is. But very beautiful. Sounds exactly like you. And a chatterer. And important. She helps run a museum. Always on her digs, always in her scrolls." Jolen smiles fondly and adds, "She has the gift of magic in her. The potential for Templarhood. And.. a future worshipper of Herastia." Adianna's brows soar, "Herastia?" She mutters something under her breath in a half growl and half laugh, "Well, we know that pa't werena' from me."

"Family is important to her. So very important." Jolen watches her. He presses his thin lips together gently and continues, "I know she does not need a father. But you.. I know she could always use her mother."

The loud snap of a branch sends both of them pressing into the ground, breath hitched to a halt in their chests and eyes wildly scanning the woods around. A hesitant deer steps from a copse of trees and both draw breath again, hearts still pounding with the scare. Though a false alarm, it sends Adianna into action, pressing aside Jolen's words she replies, "P'haps she does, though she ha' gotten along all these yea's without me...a've neva' been much o' a motha'. I werena' meant ta raise a family, ta' love an' be loved."

She gathers up the chain whip and a pair of daggers, tucking them into her belt. "It's time fo' me ta move on, sa' stay o' go...it dunna make a difference." But it did, and Jolen was acutely aware of the clammer inside her mind, the part of her that was holding its breath, and praying he would follow her. Ignore her words and insist on accompanying her...and another part that was petrified he would.

Rising fluidly, Jolen speaks, "Come. I know of a place we shall be safe for a time." He shoulders his shield, raising an eyebrow.

Her brow lowering into a glower, she hesitates, finally give one brief nod, "Alright, though dunna think I willna' change ma mind an' kill ya." That said, she slinks out from beneath the bower, "I canna' abide all this stink an' blood, We have a time fo' a quick wash." She dumps the weapons beneath a bush on the bank of the lake and her single garment lands in the last dry spot before her body hits the water. Submerging, her form disappears in the dark water of the forest lake, barely a ripple betraying where she was. Long moments pass before her head breaks the surface again, crest feathers streaming out behind her. Resting his cloak and helm near the cache of weapons, Jolen removes his garments and strides into the water. He fans his wings out, the scar along his spine shimmering. He calls to Adianna, "Was that for me to do as well?"

She tosses her head, droplets of water spraying and catching the light like a frosting of diamonds in the air. She glances back at him, her hands scrubbing the water over her skin, careful to remain mostly hidden beneath the water's covering, "Ifn' ya want an' can be fast. Dunna have time fo' a leisurely bath."

"Hmm? Oh. Yes," he replies, distracted by Adianna's still alluring form. Appearing sheepish for the briefest of moments, he follows her onto the shore, snatching up his clothes and rewrapping them. His plumed helm is rested on his forehead, keeping his face exposed as he ties his cloak around his neck and shoulders, frowning at the worn hem of the once striking looking garment, now stained by the road and ichor. He slings his shield across his back and rests his hands upon his hips, watching the dark woman ready herself.

"Whea' a' we headed?" Her eyes take brief sidelong glances at Jolen as he dresses, a flash of ardor rising in her mind that she works hard to ignore. The long, chain whip she winds about her waist and slots the blades of her daggers through the links, "We a' gonna need ta find some supplies along the way ifn' its much o' a trip. An' it betta' be, na' place aroun' these hea' pa'ts will be safe."

Pointing off to the northwest, Jolen starts moving, "Eight days or so.. the forest there is old.. the scene of many terrible things." He reaches back at her with his free hand, beckoning onwards. "Come.. I left supplies about half a day onwards."