The two Ura in the group never… well, took a while to bond.
Zulf welcomed the girl with his arms spread wide, his eyes glowing like stars and his pale face softened into an expression of warmth, gratitude. He murmured a small prayer of thanks to his Gods as he swept her into a relieved embrace, inhaling the scent of one of his kind. That same smell he never thought he'd catch a whiff of again.
But hell, that was just the meeting.
He was nice to her after, sure he was. Always nodding graciously at her as they crossed paths, delivering his thanks with a polite little grin as she served him one of her fine meals, and always ready to help her if she got herself into trouble. There were many instances in which the clumsy girl had let her knife slip from her grasp, probably lost in a tune somewhere far away, and he'd have to tie some little cloth around the wound. The scratchy fabric irked her a little; this, he had noticed, and he would provide something better if he could. But back to the point. He was always willing to offer a helping hand, but more out of chivalry than concern.
It was pretty much the same on her end. No, actually, she wasn't quite as open with Zulf as he was with her. Sure, she felt bad that she couldn't return his polite agreeableness, but she had her reasons. Every time she looked up into his soft eyes, her mind flashed back to the one who deceived her. Without her really realizing it she found herself instinctively drawing back. In the beginning, she'd even glared at him, but as soon as she saw a flash of hurt cross his pretty features she'd softened her gaze. Zia was just cautious. Everyone was, after being hurt.
Course, Zulf had suffered his fair share of hardships too. He saw his pretty lover reflected in Zia's timid dark eyes, even if the colour didn't match. It was the face of the shape, the little gestures, and just about anything else that… well, added up. A little fiddling with her hair sent him way back. And he felt kind of bad about it, really. He was taking out all his regret and sorrow on her, in a roundabout way, by almost holding her as the same woman he once held dear. Course, he never examined it quite as closely as this, yet the niggling guilt ate away at him.
But still, they stuck together. They were of the same race, after all; and the Ura are known for staying loyal to one another. Sometimes they'd have quiet conversations in their own languages, or a little later on in his company Zia would bring out her little harp guitar and pluck away at it a little. When they sang together, they made the most beautiful harmonies, no matter which language they were speaking. And it was… well, it was nice. Over time, Zia did learn to trust him.
She felt like she was getting somewhere in her life. She felt as though, by bonding with Zulf (however weak the bonds were,) she could move on from the guy who hurt her, and possibly even lift a little of the weight of the blame for her father's death that she'd placed upon herself. Zulf had noticed it, too, how she'd smile at him more often, and even move a little closer in some sort of cute, shy way of saying she was comfortable. It made him smile; really, it did. Made him proud.
But all of that crumbled just as quickly as it had come when he got the journal.
