Chiara found consciousness after fighting for hours, slowly opening her eyes to reveal soft, warm, orange blankets and pillows. Groggy, she didn't have the remaining strength to question lavish comforts and relaxed into the warmth to fight back the cold that lurked beyond her wool shield. Her hands even went so far as to knead the blanket, drawing it up to rest under her chin, trapping her as she observed her surroundings.
The vibrant red cloth tent that kept her sheltered from the raining outside world continued to suppress her panic, with familiar and colorful magic stitching sewn into every corner. A large rug covers the floor, ensuring the heat of the flame markings does not dissipate into the soil, keeping the tent nice and toasty. Beside her bed laid a single dresser stand, covered in plants and needles that made her squirm under her covers from the sight.
Her gaze trailed from the interior to the tent entrance, sealed up tight. "Hello?" She called out gently, groaning at how raspy and dry her throat was, barely able to reach octaves above the gentle rainfall and dull thumping sound she could not place beyond her shelter. "Water, please."
No reply reached her ears, flicking in small semi-circles. With a frown, she glanced over to the dresser and dared to stretch an arm out, feeling the tiny amount of chill that came from leaving the blanket's comfort and shivering as her claws grasped the cold metal of an empty syringe. With a quick flick to let it slip down for her to grasp it's base, she pulled her arm back and sent the syringe sailing out the entrance through a newly-created tear. When nothing came of the motion she groaned and tried again with a stethoscope, even if that frail piece of junk failed to cut through the tent and thumped harmlessly against the door.
She paused as her claws scraped the glass of a elixir vial, the soft squelching outside drawing her attention. As it drew closer, she settled back into her covers, ready to throw them and leap if this tent and its owners proved to be far less friendly than she first anticipated. Her muscles, still reeling from her nap, began to feel the rush of adrenaline in her veins with every moment the steps grew closer.
The flap entrance swung open, and she blew a sigh of relief at the familiar Flame Legion colors, wetted by the rain but still glowing bright. At first the style of the armor reminded her of Sellwic, but she made that mistake enough that she didn't call the name until the rest of the charr was revealed to her. When a white-furred head poked through, green eyes meeting hers, she cracked a smile at her brilliance. "Hellooo."
He didn't reply immediately, instead turning to the outside world to exclaim her awakened status. The distant replies were too muddled by rain to reach her, but he agreed to the plan and stepped inside, adding to the mud tracks at the entrance before he slipped his boots off and moved to stand beside her and ask how she felt.
"Raspy voice, but warm and cozy." She replied, flashing one of her best smiles as she wiggled under the covers, resting her claws on the edge.
"Good. Your bandmate is on his way, along with a few others. Do you want some food or water?"
Her stomach rumbled loudly at the prospect of food, so much that all she had to do was glance down at it to get the message. With a shared chuckle between them, he made his way back to the great beyond outside her tent, slipping his boots back on to latch them outside.
Chiara sighed happily and waited, kneading the blanket once again and listening to the rainfall in sheer delight, fully content knowing she is safe. The warmth of the tent stayed nice and toasty even with the wind flowing inside from the now opened and slightly torn tent flap. Boredom quickly hunted her down, however; it lurked when she closed her eyes to nap, chasing her as she tried to avoid it. She fled by reliving her thoughts, recalling all she could about what Rytazz could teach her in the short time they had together in the art of medicine. All good soldiers knew their herbs and bandages for the road, except for her. Even the ones on the dresser beside her did not jog her memory for anything that might heal a wound.
The squelching outside signalled her rescue from reminiscing, and she opened her eyes to the entrance as two charr, one the elder white-furred male she saw before and the other a young orange female like her, kicked off their shoes that were soaked in mud from the run and made their way over to her, moving on either side. Surrounded, her eyes bounced from one to the other, their rush making her fur stand on end, but before she could voice her discomfort, a familiar face strode through the tent entrance with double their intensity.
Tarram forced his way through rapidly, clad in black leather rather than the armor he usually wore when out and about. Toe-claws nearly tore another hole in the tent entrance, lacking shoes to shed and simply scraping the mud along the rug as he ran over to her on two feet to stand next to the younger medic. His brilliant orange eyes stared down at her, mixing emotions of concern and relief in equal amounts.
Chiara grunted as the older charr grabbed her arm, yanking it from the comfort of the blanket to hold out and examine. She only spared him a glance before looking at her bandmate, letting the doctor do what he needed as she interrupted Tarram before the words even left the male's mouth. "Where is Rytazz?"
Tarram's maw froze open, tongue halfway through the process of saying her name as his ears flattened back against his skull and his fur rose up. The female across the bed glanced at him to ask who Rytazz is, but he seemed to lack the strength to reply.
"My legionnaire." Chiara first said to her, then turned her attention back to Tarram and amended herself. "Our legionnaire."
Tarram found the strength to move his mouth again, shutting it with a gentle sound. She nearly asked him the same question when a spiking pain down her arm made her yelp. She wrenched her hand away from the elder medic who had been unraveling her wrist, and gasped at the sight of her wounds. Wounds from the ice.
Chiara only broke the horrified stare when she felt a hand on her stomach, and turned to meet Tarram once again. "So it did happen." She whispered gently, heart recoiling in pain to the rhythm of his nodding. She went limp into bed, allowing the doctor to regain his hold and examine her wounds, listening to the omnipresent thudding of her chest's pounding. "I thought," She paused as her raspy throat forced her to swallow, wincing from the pain. The female wasted no time placing her claws at an angle above her head, letting magical water drip from her digits right into Chiara's waiting mouth, giving her a warm and gentle relief before she tried again. "I thought it was a nightmare."
Silence hung over them as the medic ensured no infections, then began to prepare herbs for consumption. Memories bombarded her in the meantime, images of her warband falling into the ice, consumed by the monster that lurked under the water, made to serve its goals. A gentle, shuddering breath failed to keep in the torrent, and she coughed out a sob as her tears welled up once more.
"I know." Tarram's hand grasped her healthy one tight, thumb rubbing along the back of her hand. "I'm sorry, Chiara." He murmured weakly, closing his eyes. "I hope they're all at peace."
She shook her head. "I want them back." The injustice of loss felt like an anchor around her neck, bringing her crying down to croaking. "It's not fair." Her claws scraped at his hand, but never gained enough strength to penetrate the skin. "I want them back."
"I know." Tarram clasped both hands over hers, trapping it as she cried harder, only interrupted when the medic finished his herbal mix and held it to her lips to drink. The mixture, like any good medicine she has had in the past, left a sour taste in her mouth as it fell down her throat, not burning her rasp solely thanks to the elementalist's healing water. In happier times, if she had just gotten a little cold and been taken to this place by her legionnaire, she would have given thanks with a bold kiss and shared a laugh at the nurse's expense. Now, all she could muster to express her gratitude for easing the pain is to thank her after the medicine was down, in between childish sobs of heartbreak. The female responded as gently as she could, with a practiced smile. It didn't slow the waterworks.
With a gentle sigh, she turned to Tarram and stepped backward, nodding him forward. Awkwardly, he drew closer to her place in bed, bringing her arm along with him as he stared down at her with his eyes quickly filling up. Her sadness was breaking through the mask of stoicism he was trying to maintain for her. "They're all dead, Tarram." Chiara groaned. "All of them."
"I know, Chiara. I-"
"Stop saying I know!" She snarled, fist pounding into the mattress she laid on. Tarram's lips curled in a wince of sympathy, but she felt no pain thanks to the medical numbness imbibed in her. "You have no burning idea how I feel, you mangled and worthless sack of skritt shit! So stop trying to say otherwise! You didn't watch your lover die! You watched MINE die!"
Silence tried to fall, but she fought it back with her wails and sobs, curling her legs up to hold as she wrenched her hand from Tarram's clutches. The medics, feeling their job done with how well she seemed to move without pain, quietly said their goodbyes and left the two survivors alone.
Tarram left her to her thoughts, to replay the images in her head over and over. The last sights of her family and what they became, worming into every corner, ruling over every pain she had ever known before until they became as insignificant as bugs on a dragon's hide. The symphony of her torment rang in her ears: cracking ice, foreboding whispers, and the retching of the monster under the waves. "It's not fair." Her claws sank into the mattress. "It's not fair!"
A chill blanketed her; far more potent and real than the magical unpleasantness of the tent, shooting her from her pit with a ghastly scream to shove Tarram away. "YOU'RE FREEZING!"
Despite her harsh vocal protests, Tarram's chest continued to press against her, arms prodding and pushing until he forced her to sit up and allow his damp hands to hold against her back. "I just came in from the night rain outside. Now keep screaming. I'd rather hear that then crying." Muffled against his chest, her brown mane barely shielded the top of her head from his chill, and despite his wishes she began to cry anew. Trying to comply no matter her body's argument, she returned his arm hold with her own desperate tightness and muffled her pain-wracked sobs into his clothes. He said nothing and let her weep for what felt like days. Beyond his mass the rain grew louder for a flash, but Tarram dismissed the source after a single glance back, returning and waiting for her sobs to die.
After so long that his leather clothes were showing signs of soakage, the pathetic mewls of despair she knew Rytazz would never approve of finally tapered off into sniveling. Flare-ups threatened with every memory, but the great big juggernaut broke his hold to step back and meet her wet eyes, speaking gently over the omnipresent thumping in her chest. "Someone's here with some good news."
Sensing her cue, a norn female stepped into view, and the first thing that caught Chiara's eye was how little the norn's clothing left to the imagination: Short, ragged, battered brown pants that held her legs in a stranglehold, an oaken brown overcoat that refused to fully button over her ample chest and covered in pockets with vials, herbs, blades, and other survival implements, and a mask that hung loosely around her neck to flaunt her white warpaint that covered both sides of her head, curving down and around her mouth, nose, and cheeks to form an intricate design of teeth.
Chiara's nostrils flared a little, her tail curling up under her as she murmured with what little voice she had. "Are you trying to imitate a charr with that," Her hand waved in front of her face. "Mess?"
The norn smirked and shook her head, her voice childishly giddy. "No, silly, of course not. These are meant to be flashy while showing my loyalty to Wolf Spirit. My name is Alyson Broodwatcher, and I was told what happened to you out in the blizzard by your comrade here while you were unconscious."
"How long have I been out?" Chiara cut in, eyes jumping between the norn's sudden silence and Tarram's guilty glance down at the floor. "Weeks? Months?"
Tarram's eyes shot open, and he waved his hands quickly to dispel her wild concerns. "No, no! Not that long, only three days!"
Alyson snickered at his frantics, but Chiara refused to let her mood shift any further. Heart pounding so loud that it overruled the dull thumps on the edge of her conscious, she began quietly. "Three days I've been in bed while my legion dies, taking up resources, slowly dying. Why?"
"You're not dying, Chiara." Tarram reassured, returning his hand to hers. "This soulbeast is here to prove that."
"I wish I was dead," Chiara growled, allowing a hush to echo her words as she pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes to stem the tide. "Instead of living without Rytazz." Ry would know how to comfort her: A tall glass of booze, a secluded place away from prying eyes, a few gentle words and rough movements. That's all she desired right now. Tarram had no idea how to make her as happy as he did, even though she knew how to make the big brute as happy as a dredge destroying dwarf plushies. "I want to go get him, and see him okay, just like I did on the ice."
Alyson crossed her arms, clearing her throat to draw her attention. "If he was out on that river, from what I've been told, he was already too far gone." She raised a hand, stopping Chiara's words before they even finished amassing for war. "I'm not here to listen to you weep. I'm here to give you back your devourer."
Frozen in place, Chiara stared into the dark eyes of the norn for any hint of deception, something to stamp out the hope that began to feed on her queasy stomach. "What do you mean? Where is Rubrum?" Her heartbeat climbed to her throat, rapid and off-tempo.
"Well that's just the trick." Alyson closed her eyes, palms turning to face Chiara at her sides as she paused to take a meditative breath. Tarram had the good sense to step away from her, for as he did a great ball of light formed on the cusp of her flesh. With a small jerk of her chest, a great white wolf leapt out of her, glowing with yellow power before it landed on the rug floor and shook away the light. Alyson then turned her attention back to Chiara, smiling at her amazed shock. "He's not with me. He's with you." Her hound laid on the rug, moving into a comfortable position to rest until its mistress called for her once again.
Jaw slack, Chiara could form no words; her mind was far too bloated with wild, imaginative fears to ever supply her tongue with the vocabulary necessary to convey her concerns. Tarram gave all the comforts he could with his soft, fuzzy hand over hers and a quick recollection of what happened in the tent when Rubrum went missing, having witnessed the same golden glow that Alyson displayed, but she continued to sit quiet, surrounded by the constant thudding in her mind.
Tarram's hand pulled away, a despondent look on his face, but she upturned her hand and firmly clutched his, claws nearly scraping deeper than his fur. Now it was more of a comfort than she cared to admit. "How do I get him out of me?" Her words caught, but she swallowed the fear and let them free. "And are you sure he will be alive when he comes out?"
Alyson flashed her best smile yet, and then sulked a little when it failed to get a return. "I guarantee it. He's the reason either of you are alive; when you absorbed him, he put you into hibernation to wait out the storm. You kept him warm and alive inside you with your fleshy, not-devourer bits and he kept you from going crazy with Jormag's rantings."
Chiara's gaze shot to Tarram, and he quickly explained himself. "Bonfazz kept me company; even if we didn't merge, and all our conversations were one-sided yes and no questions, it was better than trying to talk to the big blue bastard outside." He forced a smile, but after her extended stare he traded it for a gentle, natural one. "I promise Chiara, I'm the same charr that went into that blizzard with you, only with the same-" He paused to amend his wording. "Similar trauma."
With no other options springing to mind for proving him wrong, she sent her emerald eyes searching the tent for the scaled hide of her lover's red drake. "Where is Bonfazz?"
"He's probably still asleep in my tent."
"Ah." was her only response as she laid back into bed, resting her eyes on Tarram's tail as it swished back and forth across the rug. Every movement tracked in the mud he had brought with him, as if eager to make a mess in her unique little medical tent. "That's probably for the best."
"Yeah, he's been resting a lot since we got to safety. Truth is, I think he's handled the whole thing better than you or I. He's more of a soldier, I guess." Tarram's smile flickered and died like any natural fire. "He never showed influence from Jormag, didn't despair about losing Rytazz, and never got a single wink of sleep for the twenty-four hours we were out in the rain carrying you back. He was quiet, sure, but he never lost focus or anything." As if the salamander was hunting him out in the rain, the big guardian viewed the tent's open flap, dripping water inside. "Guess he's catching up now that we're safe. I know I passed out as soon as I reached an allied warband, but I was told he was still conscious until he got into a tent. Wish I had that kind of willpower, wherever it came from."
The burning fire within twin seas of amber flashed through Chiara's mind, along with the overpowering desire to push on. "I dunno where it came from either." She closed her eyes, letting her heart to calm and her mind to focus back on the gentle beat in her subconscious. Then she turned her gaze back to the chipper norn. "So, how do I get Rubrum out of me? I can only imagine how scary it must be in here." She tapped her chest.
"Ha! No: he sees, smells, and hears everything that you do. I bet his little dumb devourer mind is exploding with excitement with all the new things he is experiencing." Alyson's fingers splayed at the side of her head, miming an explosion.
Chiara said nothing to defend her pet, no matter how much she wanted to. Instead, she tempered her words with thorns to ask again. "How do I get him out?"
Alyson's smile faded into yet another pout, but she first clasped her hands together, index fingers pressing against her lips. "That's the real fun part: I don't really know how." Chiara's lips peeled back immediately to snarl, and Tarram shot her a betrayed look, but the norn continued before the sound ever left her throat. "It's different for everyone, honest! Depending on the master and the pet, the trigger for merging can vary wildly. Look at my wolf for example: he is a very well trained good boy, and when I give orders he follows them to the letter." The white wolf in question sits up at the sound of praise, ears perking and tail beginning to dance. "But you, from what I've been told, didn't get a chance to order. It was all panic, natural survival instinct, life or death situation, am I right?"
Chiara's tail curled under the covers "Yeah, that sounds right."
"Exactly. So, my brother just so happens to be a soulbeast as well, and when he first performed the act of merging he was in similar dire straits; his bear was nearly dead from a cave collapse and a fight with the Dredge, he was angry and not thinking straight, and he called out several times to the spirit of Bear for help. It was only after giving into despair and holding his bear tight in his burly arms that he managed to merge out of pure instinct like you. Using their combined strength added onto the power of his bear form, he ripped and tore his way through the cave collapse, then through his opponents. They never once stood a chance." Her smile returned, now full of pride and joy. "Skalds who know him love to tell that tale in its entirety, and I have memorized th-"
Chiara cut her off with a growl. "I need help, not stories. How did he separate from his bear?"
"Right, right. Well, he said when he finally decided that eating six five-course meals a day was just too much effort to feed both him and his bear with their combined appetites and energy use and what-not, he managed to find the bear inside. All he had to do was 'follow the sound.'" She patted her chest with her fist. "Nowadays, I know exactly what he means. When I sit alone with my wolf melded inside me, I can often hear his panting and barking even if it sounds like it's across the mountains sometimes."
"A sound?" Chiara's ears perked to scan the surroundings, but all she could hear was the soft rainfall outside, punctuated by the awkward thumping of her heartbeat. "I don't hear anything."
"It's not an external sound, big gal. It's in here." Alyson transformed her fist into a pointing thumb, smack in the center of her chest. "It's inside, like it's laying in bed right under you and on top of you, easy to ignore even though it never goes away. I dunno what sound devourers usually make, but try listening out for that. Or it could be whatever sound you heard it make last."
Chiara's heart skipped a beat, but luckily for her that offbeat thudding was there to pick up the slack, pounding away no matter her condition. "Internal. Could a heartbeat sound be him?"
Alyson tilted her head; an action mirrored by her wolf on the ground beside her. "Yeah, maybe? Though usually it's a sound that the animal makes, and heartbeats are pretty universal for living things."
"But it was the last noise I heard him making." The memory of their tug-of-war with magical lines, yanking so hard in a panic to keep her precious pet alive that she had managed to dislodge something, it bled with evidence. "What do I do with the sound, follow it?"
"Pretty much." Alyson shrugged with an infuriating nonchalant. "Soulbeast hunting is definitely not an exact science, especially when it was an untrained merge by a completely different race to me. If you think you have the right hook and line, then sink it. Hunt it down like the legendary Jackalope hunt."
Chiara's chest heaved as she took in a deep breath and closed her eyes, both to calm herself down for the 'hunt' and to deal with this perky and aloof norn. She'd practiced the art of mediation for her ranger nature rituals many times before, but the pressure of doubt and fear drowned her good sense, crashing in waves, buoyant only by the steady thrumming of Rubrum's heart, promising her that she wasn't about to search for a near-frozen scorpion corpse. She held it tight, and never let go no matter how hard she was pounded by the current.
After floating for a bit, struggling to focus on that singular sound, the fears began to drain away, letting her fall with them into the depths of her body. Into her heart, where the beat of her lifeblood threatened to drown out her pet's.
Her subconscious taunted her and fed off her, letting her easily find the first strand of the golden, fraying rope that signalled her connection to her pet, only to find it hopelessly buried under and around her heart, tangled in knots and held tight as a net. She could barely get her claws under it to lift it, but once she did it snapped, making her heart skip a beat before it lodged itself inside her ethereal view. With no other choice, she began to march along the circumference of her heart like an ant on a massive wrapped fruit, eyes trained on the rope's path, following from it's home in her to go around and around.
"Is she okay?" Tarram's voice whispered, no louder than an echo carried down the mountain pass by a gentle breeze. She allowed her ears to flick in the real world, but couldn't afford to give anything more to indicate her health without breaking her focus and losing her progress. She needed quiet to focus.
"Be quiet!" Alyson's voice was practically a gunshot, tearing into her concentration with a mad and starving dog's fervor. She clung to her instincts, massive paws forming out of gold to clutch the strand as the blustering norn continued in earnest, eager to show off all she knew. "She needs complete silence if she is going to do this. As a new soulbeast without training, meditation and instinct is all she has to go off of, and that requires pure focus, so-"
A slapping sound precipitated muffled words and a quiet struggle, punctuated by the growl of a wolf.
"You're louder than I was." Tarram breathed with a growl of his own, giving Chiara a beautiful mental picture of what occurred in the tent, and the silence she seized on gratefully, beginning to speed up the rotation before another distraction tried to grab her. Or before the Norn found a way out of the hold Tarram captured her in.
The unraveling of her heart brought the noise up in volume, thudding with every fifth step she took. The ground shook lightly but she carried on, absorbing the golden rope into her chest to clear space, wandering with as much patience as she could muster in such an unfamiliar and uniquely magical state. With time to learn the ropes, her pace quickened, and more of her heart was revealed to her. Every inch, the beats sped up to reach a healthy tempo, just in time to skip a beat once more as she found the end of the line.
The rest of her view had gone dark long ago, thanks to her ethereal magic form within her body gobbling up the only source of light. All she could see was down into the pit; once so entangled she could walk over it without even noticing the give, now it yawned in a near-perfect circle, bathed in yellow light all the way down into its depths to bounce off the chitin of the creature resting within. Rubrum!
Certain her tail was wagging in the real world, she grasped their connection with both paws, dwarfing the fraying string as she tugged it to the beat of her heart. Finding it secure but lacking a response, she began to pull upwards, feeling Rubrum's limp weight lift with her straining muscles. "C'mon Rubrum, you can't be down there." She murmured as one hand reached down before tugging, repeating the process hand over hand. "You're going to give me a heart attack, and we both know the center of my heart is reserved." A weak chuckle was all she could muster, and Rubrum gave nothing in response. With a nervous swallow, her fur stood on end as her feet felt the cold embrace of fear rising once again, pooling under her.
What if he is dead? Her thoughts dug their fangs into her skull, corroding her will to move her arms. I've been following a ghost. The first ever soulbeast to have their pet die inside them. Some ranger I turned out to be.
Rubrum's form dangled halfway out of her chest, and her thoughts beat her like the rug Adelbern would have used her for. By now, the cursed depression she had to endure already on the ice made this one a matter of child's play, so even as she felt the same wounds reopened by her mind she refused to give them power, continuing the motions until the whole of her devourer was revealed to her. A gasp slipped past her teeth at the sight of him, nearly enough of a shock for her to lose her grip.
The reflection of light off his body had not been natural. All along his back, over every plate of exoskeleton, an icy layer created a thin, otherworldly sheen over his body. Melting ice dripped down his legs, falling from the tips of his tails and collecting into the pit he dangled over. At the sight of him, her mind raced with depression, but she was so utterly done with listening to those thoughts that their words no longer registered as anything beyond static, and she yanked hard on the string, pulling her devourer from the pit.
As he collided with her chest, the cold biting into her, her feelings became impossible to ignore. The flood of both literal and emotional sadness forced her to fall to her back with their tremendous weight on her chest, clutching her devourer tight, not knowing if her golden form had any heat to give but completely unwilling to relent and just let him freeze. It was all she could think to do; clutch him just as she had in that tent, trying to warm him with her body, whimpering as she was battered down with her failure, so much of it piling up underneath her that she began to float once again, adrift with her pet.
Watching his chilled form, tears stung her non-corporeal eyes, and her crushing despair became the ignition for rage. Another roar erupted from her mouth, full of the turmoil warring inside her. Her hands glowed so bright they rivaled the sun's radiance, the rest of her body following suit, and she kept it going, her form not needing to breathe in this state. Somewhere in the distance, beneath her power, Tarram was calling for her, but he didn't matter. Her grief mattered. And it was shattering under the weight of her rage, her hatred, her instincts.
Dripping on her body sizzled, and snapped her from the roaring blindness that had overwhelmed her.
A quick glance down gave her all the information she needed, and her jubilation cry of her pet's name shook the very waves she floated on. Amid her despair, buoyant by her hold, she watched Rubrum's ice begin to drip.
Every depressive wave fell short now, her focus entirely spent on the frozen devourer popsicle she held to her chest. She beat them back as they formed, pounding them down until she used her body as a makeshift raft for Rubrum, comforting him with pats and scratches that he enjoyed as she thought of what made her angry, and what made her happy. Images of Rytazz, of her warband, her whole adopted legion, sprang up first and foremost, and Chiara's throat began to burn as she purred. She reminisced of the delicious, spicy meals she had experienced like never before, food and drink alien to her life on the mountaintops, and to the mother she had left behind.
Her mother was an explosive. The memories of her came rushing in, colored every emotion she could imagine. Joys of her first accomplishments with her mother's help, anger at her mother's pain and death. They burned like the fires of the Searing Cauldrons, and ignited her form with leaping gouts of flame. Solar flares of light.
And Rubrum twitched in her grasp.
Her heartbeat drained the waters away, her eyes widening as she sunk down to where she had pulled him out, having not truly moved through all of that tossing and turning on the waves. "Rubrum? Are you okay!?" She called to the devourer, bringing a hand down towards his head, hoping that by somehow melting through that coating she could see him blink and move again.
His eyes did open, and she nearly burst into tears with delight, until his mandibles sank into her arm.
She found herself back in the tent with an added weight upon her. Her yowl of surprised pain startled the two standing at the tent entrance, as did the sight of her devourer.
Rubrum still had the icy coverage on his body, seeping into every crack and crevice of his form. The points that had been touched by her internal magic showed her influence, but they were shrinking before her eyes, ignoring her paws now as she placed them over the wounds. "Help!" She cried out quickly, but froze as she saw the face of rage plastered on the Norn at the foot of her bed.
Alyson was bathed in golden glow as she took in the sights, her wolf merging into her body as her hands darted to her axes, but Tarram spoke first, distant as she turned to him. "Chiara, what happened?! Are you okay!?"
"I'm fine!" She replied quickly, gesturing to her pet as it continued to sleep and grow colder. "But he needs to get warm, quick!"
Tarram nodded, moving forward to stand beside her at the bed. "You're lucky I've been practicing this with ants in my free time." He jeered in delight, then raised a hand clutching a focus he had drawn from within his pocket. With his magic tempered into a point, it shone down on the devourer like light through a magnifying glass, melting away the ice. She moved her arms for him to clear the thinner parts she covered first, and sighed in relief as it proved its effectiveness.
"What are you fools doing?!" Alyson roared, storming up as the two charrs' gazes spun to her. Her axes raised over her head to deliver a crushing blow. "That's an Icebrood monst-!"
The shield bubble that Tarram raised to stop her axe swing hit with such force that she flew backwards, knocked out into the rain through a new hole in the tent's wall. "Stop wasting your energy and go get help you mouse-brain!" Tarram roared, listening until the squelch of running steps began. With the distraction handled, he returned his gaze to Chiara's pet, not needing encouragement to continue his work as he murmured. "She comes back with anything dangerous, and I'm gonna kill her."
"Get in line. She's more useless than human-made weaponry." Tarram's focus drew a line across the body of Chiara's frozen pet, exposing his wet exoskeleton for her warm paws to rest on, trying to do what little she could to make her pet that little bit warmer. "She better count herself lucky if she isn't fried for being a threat in a medical tent to a recovering soldier."
Tarram nodded as he moved to the next layer on Rubrum's back, even as his legs were naturally melting to freedom. Every second that passed left Chiara with a little less weight physically on her, but Tarram's words made her body feel heavy anyways. "I had wanted help from a Charr Soulbeast, but the two I could track down were Ash trash not keen on helping Flame Legion." And then, just to pile it on as he moved the focus around, he added. "I didn't tell that to the norn either, and I still dunno if she even knows what Legion she is helping."
Chiara's memories whirled, recalling the treatment they endured in Grothmar Valley: walls and effigies vandalized with insults, brawls that led to only the Flames getting arrested while other legions who started it getting slaps on the wrists. "I thought this war was supposed to get through their thick skulls that Flame can change. HAS changed."
"It's never that simple." Tarram murmured, using one massive paw to scrape off as much of the melted ice as he could. Rubrum didn't stir, but Chiara could still feel his heartbeat through their connection, and thankfully Tarram never asked the question of whether he was still alive. He just did as he was told, and Chiara was grateful beyond words.
Footsteps in the rain outside drew her attention away from Tarram's work, hurriedly rushing towards them. Her tail's swishing froze in an instant, but before she could rouse Tarram from his efforts, the sources burst through, demanding he turn as well, ready with his magic to defend her. One elder male charr, one younger female charr, and that rotten norn standing in between them to point between their shoulders like a tattling cub. Both charr wore the cloth armor of Flame medics, and their familiar faces initially held concern, quickly overtaken by horror as they took in the scene before them.
"Don't freak out!" Chiara shrieked as fireballs ignited in their hands, waving her arms carefully to not hit the twin heavy and melting tails above her. "He's not Icebrood, he's just frozen over!"
That damned female norn pushed her way between the medics, exclaiming in the shrillest tone Chiara has ever heard from a norn. "Like Bear's fluffy backside it's not Icebrood!"
"He's not!" Chiara snarled at her, a motion that Tarram echoed beside her as she returned her attention to the medics, her green eyes set to implore. "If he was Icebrood, we wouldn't be sitting here still, we would be dead! He's just frozen over, and needs help!" A brief glance between the medics doused their flames down to manageable torches and Tarram breathed a sigh of relief. Alyson slipped back into the rain, her eyes wide enough to replace the moon, but Chiara saw her as the Last priority.
The two moved to her bedside, shoving Tarram out of the way to do so. "So you're a soulbeast now, soldier?" The elder asked gruffly, glancing up as Chiara nodded. "Would have been nice to know when we first started helping you; would have explained the two different heartbeats."
"Believe me, it's news to me." Chiara murmured, bringing her hands away to let the magic users flex their sorcery muscles. With four times the effort, Rubrum's icy shell melted away, along with all her doubts and fears. Watching his pincers twitch as fire was brought to them held her breath prisoner, released in a sob as Rubrum's many eyes shifted around to view his predicament. No lunging bite to attack her, only confused and weak chittering
She wrapped her arms under his pincers and buried his face into her neck, mandibles and all. Every negative fear dashed for the darkness, letting the light in, her scream of sheer jubilation turning everyone deaf. Once his frazzled waking brain pieced together who was grasping him so tightly, Rubrum hissed his delight and began to nuzzle back, his numerous legs moving around her stomach in a hug as he pushed her head further against him with his scythes. "I missed you too." Chiara murmured breathlessly, a purr rising from her throat despite its pleading with her brain to stop making so much noise. "I couldn't lose you too." Those she watched die flashed through her mind, but she quelled them by holding him tighter, her happiness racing down their connection to return in echoes.
The fires of the elementalists sputtered as they died, granting Tarram the privilege to clutch their hands tight and bombard them with his thanks, words that Chiara echoed when she found the initiative to speak. "I'm so glad you both know how to use fire magic." She explained.
The elder medic chuckled gently as he shook Tarram's hand one final time, then brushed it off on his pant leg. "Of course we do. What Flame elementalist worth their spine can't light a basic fire?"
Chiara's eyes shut tight and her ears flattened, but gratefully it went unnoticed by all but Rubrum, who gently crooned to her as much comfort as he could voice without words. She scratched her thanks over his form, trying not to draw attention to herself.
"Yeah…" Tarram sighed, then cleared the air with a cough and a smooth change of subject. "If it's okay with you both, I have something I want to discuss with my bandmate in private." Chiara's emerald irises met his soft orange gaze with a gentle nod, a grand non-verbal comfort. Then his face turned smug, and he found strength beyond her abilities to quip before the two medics got curious. "Plus I'm worried that norn Alyson is going to go and try raising an army over my friend's pet."
The young female snickered to herself, giving Tarram's tail a reason to begin swishing once again as the elder grunted but smiled despite himself. "Sounds like a plan to me, I guess. You better scream loud if that devourer turns out to be rabid though. I'll send a beastmaster by to give him a thorough examination, so make sure it's a short chat."
Chiara lifted her head off the hard rising and falling exterior it rested on, but he did not look back at her quizzical look until the sound of wet steps fell into the distant rain. "I had to report our losses while you were out of commission." Tarram explained, quickly strapping an anchor to her heart. "No one could believe what happened, especially not to Rytazz. All thought he was too tough or something. Anyways, with only two surviving members, Efram said we have two options left for us: Disband Gold Warband, and find a new warband willing to take a flunky guardian with a shaky past and a female who never even went to the Fahrar, or one of us takes a promotion, and we rebuild Gold together."
Chiara's thoughts immediately filled in the blanks, but as she opened her mouth to object to both options, he held up one muscular hand to stop her and let him continue with a pained smile. "Now, I don't think I am very good legionnaire material; not nearly enough brains in here," He knocked on his head, mimicking hollow knocks with his big mouth, making her lips quiver into a hesitant smile. "At least, not enough for strategy and organization and whatever else. But you spent a lot of time around Rytazz, brought along to every Flame meeting and briefing and DEbriefing. You're smart enough to catch Ash, quick enough to outshoot Iron, and skilled enough to wrestle Blood. So I told Efram 'if anyone oughtta be a legionnaire, it's her.'"
"You want me to be one of the first, if not THE first, female Flame legionnaire in years?" Chiara choked out, the images of pressure already pressing into her brain, making the words to explain herself difficult to find. She remembered those meetings with Rytazz, sitting beside him and cuddling when attention was not on them, but they never really seemed important to her before. They were just instances where they received orders and information while reporting in grievances and their own two-copper, and she only half paid attention with Rytazz so close. "You think I could handle that?"
"I don't see any reason not to."
Her wide eyes followed his hand as it moved to clutch hers on the back of her worried devourer, no doubt knowing she was panicking by her rising heartbeat. "I can give you fifty reasons right now off the top of my nicely serrated horns, but let's start with the big one:" Chaira gestured to her clothes, the symbol of her adoption. "I am not Legion-Born."
Tarram's ears flicked as he grew a wide smile. It horrified her. "That's one of the reasons Efram said he wants you as Legionnaire." Amidst her rising blood pressure, he continued to march verbally onwards. "You think he could possibly forget the wild burnt-potato female we discovered in the middle of a mountain Ogre's war camp and who became the right hand of Rytazz within a month with her skills? Who single-handedly won archery competitions against trained professionals and stealth assignments against the best of the best?"
She scoffed, hoping that she could dig his praises worming their way into her brain back out. "You're really playing this up; I lost my fair share too. Now shut up and let me think."
He didn't. "You're a fresh take on Legion culture, and that's exactly what Flame Legion needs right now. You hate the old ways because your mom hated them. To the other Legions, you'll be a symbol to show just how much we have changed, and will probably earn us a bunch of publicity, which means new recruits by the Effigy full!"
Despite all the baggage it carried with it, the idea of being one of the first Female Flame Legionnaires was looking tantalizingly sweet. The image of seeing her name burned into a wall, made into a mural as what Sellwic said the other great leaders of Flame have gained in the Citadel, flashed into her mind. Still, she murmured to fight back. "Rytazz always said that I was a great Second-in-Command, but could never be a leader. Too easily distracted."
Tarram's eyes turned uncomfortably stern. A look that reminded her of an angry Sabinus. "And what does Chiara think?"
She paused, giving herself a chance to think by turning her attention to Rubrum still on her stomach. The devourer's many eyes locked with hers, their connection feeding him all the emotional contact he needed to know the dread filling her heart as she struggled to find what her emotions were, and not her dead mate's. "I think I want to try." She whispered shakingly, finally scrounging up enough evidence in her mind to make a claim for herself. "I owe it to my new family to not let Gold die. We are still Gold, and it is our legacy. I'd hate for them to come back from the dead just to yell at me for giving up because of a few 'measly' deaths." She swallowed as another memory flitted into view, like paper on the wind. "And my mother would be proud to find out I command a warband in the Legion she thought could never be great again, doing my part to make things better, the way she had wanted them to be."
"Every one of them is cheering you on from the Mists, Chiara." Tarram punctuated her claims perfectly, his smile chasing away his previous grave look. "They're there, watching us, making all the noise they can to let us know that we are doing the right thing. No ifs, ands, or buts about it." He paused with the smile quivering, thinking of how best to word his next statement, giving her time to prepare for what he could say. "But they love you, and want what is best for you, not them. Their deaths are not your fault, and your choice has to be Yours."
Rather than be the punch to the gut it should have been, all Chiara could do was smile, and she responded with a taunt, trying to get him to snap out of the seriousness that made her so despondent. "I had just talked my way INTO being Legionnaire, and now he is making me second-guess myself." She cooed to Rubrum, making the large charr laugh, and she followed up with a one-two punch combo with added observation sting."Someone's been visiting the Flame Legion Therapists already, I see."
His own smile grew wider, and he graciously accepted her verbal olive branch with a change of subject. "We will get you to see them too, as soon as they know you're awake and can get their butts over here. Your arm, leg, and mouth all got work done while you were unconscious, but the medics said it will be a couple of weeks before you are able to walk without support again. Meaning Gold is effectively out of action for the time being."
Chiara recalled the pain she had endured on the ice and grunted. "Yeah, sounds about right." She tried to flex her leg and cursed at the numbed pain, same with her arm. She then began to maneuver her tongue around to feel the gap left behind by her lost tooth, only to grunt again as she slammed into something metallic instead. "Did they give me a new tooth while I was out?" She asked as her tongue ran along her other sharpened ivories, to check for other work.
"Better." Tarram stated with a joyous purr immediately beginning to grow in his throat. He whirled to the dresser beside her, searching with her eyes on his back. After checking every drawer and giving one last cursory look over, he settled on grasping a hacksaw and holding it lengthwise for her to view her replacement tooth in its metallic sheen. The steel gave everything a silver hint but after a bit of staring with her jaw open it wasn't difficult to spot the difference.
"What the hell is it made out of, Gold?" Chiara exclaimed after gasping, jaw slapping shut as she turned to Tarram, letting him pull the medical tool away.
The skritt-eating grin on his face didn't abate one bit in her shock; in fact it seemed to revel in it, growing all the wider. "Sure is! Cost me a whole bunch in favors and coins, but I think it was two hundred percent worth it."
She rubbed her tongue along it, getting used to the metallic aftertones, quietly wishing she had something that at least tasted like a tooth. "Hopefully it won't get in my food." She grimaced at the thought, then blinked as another struck her. "Well I guess it is a pretty badass trait. Gives me a chance to tell new recruits all sorts of fanciful stories about how I earned it."
Her words stole Tarram's smile away from him, placing it on her muzzle as he occupied himself with tilting his head a bit, his hand flexed open. "What's wrong with the truth? A badass tale of betrayal thanks to that son of an ice cube Jormag?"
Chiara's face stung in the grim reminder of who had punched her tooth out, and her eyes burned in the recollection of his death. "They were our friends. They didn't deserve what happened to them, and I'm not going to belittle them or their legacy by making them out to be the bad guys."
Tarram paused, realizing what she was saying. "Ah… Too sad." He murmured.
"Too sad." Chiara agreed with a nod, then tried her best to pull them both out of it with a small smile. "But now that I think about it, you're really pulling the trigger for me here. A gold tooth would only make sense if I was a part of a gold warband, now wouldn't it?"
Tarram barely needed prompting to smile again, and punch her shoulder as he replied. "It would make for a damn good last name, wouldn't it? Miss no-last-name."
She laughed softly, and nodded her head. One final thought fought her will, banging on her mind like it was being forced outside where it belonged. Rytazz's voice, echoing around the mountains and woods that surrounded their tent on all sides.
"You make a good second-in-command, but you'll only be a legionnaire of Gold if everyone else is dead, cub."
Her smile fading, she turned back to Rubrum, running her hands along his back once more as she listened for a few tense moments. The devourer, unaware of her dead mate's taunting, met her gaze innocently and pressed his pinces around her neck again, trying to bring her close. Even if he didn't know what, he knew something was wrong. She let him draw her in, placing her chin just above his head and sighing deeply as the deaths she had witnessed washed over her. Four out of five.
Doubts bubbled like a spring, but she smashed them down, refusing to let herself despair any longer. She'd made up her mind, and she wouldn't let the memories hold her back. She had revenge to seek.
Tarram's touch on her hands brought her out of it, and she met his gaze one more time. He didn't need to say anything, because the words were written all over his expression. Are you okay?
To answer, she sat up from her devourer's back, puffing her chest out like a big-ballsed commander just to really sell the act, making Rubrum slide into her lap as she spoke. "Tarram, give my response of acceptance to Efram. As soon as I am healed enough to walk, I, Chiara Goldtooth, will assume command of my mate's Warband, and begin the process of rebuilding our ranks." Her words sent chills down her spine, but she relished them instead of feared them, and they dispersed into the warmth of Tarram's smile.
Tarram's smile stretched so wide it practically went beyond his ears to touch his horns, chasing away the last of her lingering doubts as he didn't hesitate to salute her bed-locked form, standing up tall before her as his tail swished wildly behind him. "You got it, boss!" Then, after giving one last pat on the head to Rubrum's chittering self, he ran out into the rain, exclaiming in defiance of the rain like a confident cub flipping off nature itself. "GOLD WARBAND LIVES!"
She laughed heartily, even more so as Rubrum got caught up in the excitement and spun in place atop her to view him as he ran off. She ran her hands along his tails, smiling just as wide as he had, and licked that new tooth of her namesake once again. "I can do this, Ry." She murmured, hoping that he could still hear her, no matter where he was. Their bond should be that strong, chasing away Jormag's retched chill. "I hope you believe in me."
A brief tangent into the lore of a Charr who captivated me as soon as she popped into my head. I hope you guys enjoy this, and THREE CHEERS FOR MY FIRST EVER 100% COMPLETED WORK ON ! WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!