Disclaimer: Props for story still to Hannah. I think I'll have to edit out some of her genius later on, though. Adorable as they may be, I might retch writing in any of her original (and meant in pure chibi innocence, I assure you) endings involving kittens.
Warnings: Minor swearing, cat-people (WTF), AU, almost schoolfic, time jump between chapters, three (four?) connected stories.
Vernal Solstice (6/21)
:n:
The wind was by this time so intertwined with the creviced mountains that it was hard to imagine the still that came before. Not difficult for the rocks with their long slow memory of times unheard of in even the most ancient tales, but nearly impossible for the small creatures that crawled over them, clinging to their brief glimpses of life. Millions of souls had been born into this world now seemingly created from the wind; mice, birds, rats, and any vast amount of insects and their relatives had all spawned and died in the gale. Still other, larger, creatures were forced to accept it as a continual part of life: rabbits, snakes, cats—
"They're moving again."
Deep red eyes narrowed further, their pupils contracting to the faintest glint of black against their bloody surface.
Nadil leaned out farther over the granite boulders serving as a rough wall, claws pressing into the weathered rock as the world splayed itself below. Were she really a nude female as the old legends said, a portion of his mind noted, she would be arcing towards him with her bare chest at his mercy. It was a pleasing image, both from the artistic form it presented and from the thrill of strength he was so used to.
He smiled briefly and then relaxed his suddenly tight grip. Never mind. His thoughts reining themselves back to their former course, Nadil turned his attention back to the far West where the faint smoke trail he had been keeping an eye on suddenly vanished. Two small figures could be seen packing up their rough camp with the skill of tired repetition. He looked away. Their foolish antics bored him and he had more important work to attend to.
Lykouleon walked over, light robes wafting on the crisp breeze. While the wind here was weaker, all three of them could hear it howling about them and the occasional burst would tear through. Nadil was certain it had nothing to do with Kharl's barrier failing at times. The other was just toying with them.
"Anything new?" Nadil directed Lykouleon's eyes to the movement. "Nothing of any importance."
The headmaster tsked, his tongue tapping gently against his only slightly pointed teeth. "Moving again?"
"They seem to have chosen a nomadic lifestyle," Nadil replied in a lazy drawl, dark ear pricking as a third set of steps drew near.
"Are you going to do anything about that, headmaster?" Kharl asked cheerfully, silver tail sweeping the air behind him in a crescent akin to the moon morphing slowly in the night.
"No," Lykouleon shook his head although his eyes showed concern. "We can't interfere yet. Besides, they're not the ones worrying me the most." Both he and Kharl turned their attention to the North, the taller man waiting obediently as Lykouleon continued. "I thought they, at least, would have bonded by now. Rune and Tintlet are always so good at welcoming others, but Lim Kaana…" he shook his head. "I don't blame her for feeling like the odd one out, but she's being even more hostile than usual."
"I'm sure it's not her fault," Kharl soothed, letting his words gently caress so his hands would be free to toy playfully with the edges of the wind as it brushed past. "There's no end to what she may be feeling."
"You're right." Lykouleon smiled at his colleague.
And he was. Above all else, Kharl was adept at picking apart jealousy and greed. While he could not use them to his means as effectively as Nadil, he was far more talented at detecting them in even the most trace amounts, although he usually kept his knowledge to himself.
Nadil ignored the conversation next to him, instead letting his eyes fall nearly directly down to the small clearing and rocky mountain root below.
The two inhabitants of the cave hidden amidst the boulders and shrubbery had not been starved out of half a dozen poorly chosen locations nor let the unspoken thrust barriers between them. They had needed neither to keep them in a constant state of internal warfare. It didn't look that way from up among the cliff faces, of course, but the wind had multiple uses. In addition to keeping them hidden behind a misty veil that shimmered and appeared to stir if one looked at it full on, it brought snatches of conversation up the steep slopes to patiently listening ears.
All one needed to do was wait.
:n:
"You imbecile!"
The shriek cut the morning air as with a scythe, Cesia's white tail mimicking the curved blade as well.
"You complete and utter failure! How many times have I had to tell you, Rath? How many!" She passed her hand roughly over her face, careful not to scratch herself with her already extended claws. "Do you get off on not listening to me? Do you enjoy ruining everything you touch? You are the most immature, self-centered, whiny, and incompetent person I know!"
Her flaming amber eyes swept briefly over their growing camp, lingering momentarily on the clothesline she had erected several weeks ago between two saplings. It was leaning in on itself now; she should get around to fixing it. Turning back to Rath she motioned with a hiss at the charred mess at his feet.
"I told you I would do the cooking, Rath. That was a bird. It was edible, until you decided to experiment on it. Do you know how hard it is to get any decent food around here? You're not allowed to just throw it away like that!"
"Of course I know," Rath snorted, "since I'm the one who has to actually get it." His dark tail curled, still but for a brief jerk. "It's rich of you to call me the complainer, Cesia, when you're the one always yelling about work you were 'too busy' to do yourself."
The fleeting image of a burst of wind magic sending the nearer sapling flying at Rath's head flashed deliciously through Cesia's mind before being discarded.
"I'm the one who has to do all the things you can't," she snapped. This was true and they both knew it. "It shouldn't be too hard to remember not to touch the food you sweated your poor self over. If you had any amount of common sense, you'd realize we're supposed to be working together. And that means you can't just sabotage everything or we'll both fail! God, Rath—!"
He scowled. "Fine, blame everything on me."
"I am." The words were blunt and unvarnished.
Glaring harder at her brusque nature, he continued. "But what about you, Cesia? Real rich of you to…" his words trailed off as his eyes widened. "…Forget it." He turned away suddenly, busying himself with walking to the small garden they had recently set up, calling over his shoulder, "I'm going to see if anything needs to be watered."
Cesia blinked, confused by the out of character throwing of the argument.
"Wait, Rath!" she called after him, glancing back down at the blackened mess of wasted protein before giving chase. "What is it?" She was walking alongside him now, hands clasped behind her back as she arched her neck, trying to meet his gaze.
"Nothing." He was quiet, now dropping to his knees in the exposed dirt, checking briefly for choking weeds.
She crouched next to him, folding her arms over her knees, hair drifting languidly behind her. "Come on," she pushed, "it's not like you to drop it so quickly."
"And now you're an expert on how my mind works?" Rath asked, irritated. "No," he caught himself, "don't answer that. I just don't think we should argue anymore." He stood quickly, shooting a glance down at her. "I'll go clean up the mess, then catch something else."
"No, it's alright," Cesia tried to reassure him, still confused about the unexpected change. "Are you feeling okay, Rath?"
"I'm fine," he said firmly, offering her his hand. She took it, and he pulled her quickly to her feet. She ended up closer to him than she had expected, the fast momentum jerking her forward.
"Ah," Cesia began, about to step away.
"They're watching."
The words were only breathed, but she could her them clearly because of her uncomfortably close proximity. It took only a moment for her to realize what he had said and why his demeanor had shifted so quickly.
"Wh—" she caught herself, swallowing her words quickly. Of course. It made sense, now that she thought of it. Sound traveled through air and she wasn't foolish enough to have thought they'd actually be going about their partnership unattended. They were being constantly supervised, whether they liked it or not.
The breeze toyed with her long hair.
"Where will you try to catch something else?"
Rath noticed the innocuous question and gave a grim inward smile. So she wasn't as dumb as she acted.
"Maybe down by the stream," he shrugged, "it's hot, and fish are easier to catch anyway."
Cesia merely nodded in response, the mutual understanding of silence starting to irk her. Why was it so bad for them to hear a perfectly normal and justified argument? It wasn't anything personal. They'd fought briefly over far lesser things during the past few years. They'd both been witness to far louder and less couth arguments, some erupting in the midst of classes or lectures. So why the hell would Rath be so uptight about it?
She sighed. What a boy.
What a mess.
:n:
Rune stood on the small sand-and-rock covered shore, the gray legs of his uniform rolled up to just below his knees as the water licked over his bare feet. It felt good: cool and smooth over his warm skin.
The nearer wall of their surprisingly sturdy lean-to was beginning to leak. Water had pooled by their blankets the night previous, and he and Tintlet had decided the best route to take would be to simply replace the crooked wooden beams lashed together with new ones.
Lim Kaana, as usual, had not been involved in the conversation.
He narrowed his eyes, squinting across at the opposing shoreline. Raising his hand, he shaded his face, focusing as best as he could on a fairly young tree near the lake's edge. Its slender leaves cast a light shadow over the sparse grass now yellowing in the start of summer's heat.
"What are you doing?"
Rune turned, startled at the sharp words, eyes alighting upon Lim Kaana's small form. The sleeves of her uniform had been roughly cut off at the shoulder, and he winced internally, hoping she hadn't discarded the precious material.
"We need to repair the shelter," he said steadily, resolving to ask Tintlet to look discreetly for the cloth later. "The easiest way to do that is to just replace the whole wall."
"The other side's got cracks in it, too."
Rune forced back a sigh. Of course she would complain. No matter what the decision had been, Lim Kaana was certain to go against it. Whether it was gathering food or water or rocks to surround the fire, Lim Kaana disliked every possible outcome. He had pitied her at first for being placed apart from her few friends, but now she was simply grating on his few remaining nerves. He hadn't given much thought to how stressful it would be to create shelter and sustenance out of the few materials available to them, but holding his temper in check was proving to be his greatest challenge.
"I know it does." It was with a great effort that Rune managed to keep these words smooth as well. When he was younger, when he had just started at the academy, it wasn't unusual for him to loose his head and snap at people several times a day. Several times a class, even.
"You should rebuild the entire thing."
Rune turned to face the far shore again, mouth firmly shut. Getting into a shouting match with the little brat was the last thing he wanted to be doing.
"If you get the wood, I'll take apart the shelter."
His eyes widened, losing their angry slant.
Had she really offered to help?
True, offered to help and increased his workload, but still…
Lim Kaana seemed to take his momentary surprise and subsequent hesitation as mistrust for her true actions, for her next words were defensive.
"I just thought it might be easier if we did it that way." The angry raising of the thin strip of silvery fur down her spine was almost audible in her speech. "I don't want the shelter to leak. It soaks my side first."
I don't want to have to edge any closer to you during the night than I have to.
"No…" Rune turned back, surprise evident as he slowly shook his head. "Thank you. That would be very helpful of you."
Lim Kaana flushed at the unexpected praise, digging her shoe into the soft dirt.
"Forget it," she muttered, and then looked back up, large eyes narrowed. "I just don't want to get drenched every time it rains, got it? I'm not trying to be helpful. This is still the stupidest thing I've ever been forced to take part in." That was true and they both knew it. "And this isn't going to be a regular thing. I just don't like getting wet every time it gets a little cloudy."
Her short tail lashed, whipping the air about her knees and Rune gave a nod and grudging smile. Whatever she might say, he was pleased with her slight change of heart. Tintlet had been right, it seemed. All she needed was some time to adjust to her surroundings.
"Why don't you get started taking it apart, and as soon as Tintlet gets back, the two of us will head over to the other side and bring back some more wood."
His words were reasonable, as Lim Kaana was too short to easily cross the lake, but she scowled, angry color rising back to her cheeks. Turning abruptly, she gave a curt nod to the bewildered Rune.
"Rune," Tintlett stepped from the small woods surrounding their tiny clearing, light ears perked forward. "There's a tree on the opposite shore a little way down that has fallen over already. When we get there, do you think we should take a look at it?"
He nodded, face immediately clearing upon her arrival. "That sounds good. I guess we should head that way, then."
Quickly heading past the younger girl, he stood next to Tintlet for a second, letting their hands naturally interlock, their fingers clutching tightly. The slight coat of fur over the backs of their hands matched perfectly: chocolate and caramel.
Lim Kaana forced herself not to retch.
As they slipped back between the slender trees, she dropped to her knees, forcefully prying apart the wooden beams tightly lashed together with strands of their precious rope. It took a great deal of effort not to rip it to pieces.
It wouldn't matter to her. It didn't matter to her. The disrespect for her personal space: that was what mattered. They had the nerve to go around brushing innocently into each other and holding hands and occasionally sharing a vague dreamy look in the stupid, shallow, lovelorn glances they so often wore.
That was all that mattered. It was inappropriate and she didn't appreciate having it rubbed in her face.
"Goddamnit," she cursed as a particularly tight knot gave her problems. The fibers were splitting, biting at her fingers, and she slashed the wood in a sudden burst of frustration. Glaring at the now scarred boards, claws still extended and sharply glinting in the sun, she yanked the broken rope free.
At least, she noted with a bitter satisfaction, the wind was picking up and there was a scattering of clouds overhead.
It looked like rain.
:n:
It was afternoon by the time the rough camp was packed up.
Kitchel dumped water on the last smoldering embers, the actual fire having been extinguished that morning, letting her hand drop down to her side, the metal pot bumping into her bare leg.
"You did get some of that, right?" she asked Thatz, gesturing vaguely at the now-drenched wood with her free hand. He nodded sharply, hoisting a heavily packed bag onto his back and steadying himself against the bare frame of their shelter.
"We should follow the river downstream," Kitchel commented, continuing a long conversation from the previous days and nights.
"That's what you said last time, and we were no better off here than previously." Thatz shook his head. "Look, if we go up, we'll hit those hills. I say we should see what's over there."
"We'll lose the water," she explained with a misleading patience, "but if we just follow it, I think it will open further. There'll be more food and more shelter." She hoisted up her own, considerably lighter, bag. "So let's go!" Kitchel pointed, starting to walk.
"I'm not going anywhere." He shook his head, frowning. "We went down stream last time. That's how we ended up here."
"We didn't go down far enough," she turned back to face him, clasping her hands together in mock pleading. "Trust me," she said, the words nearly coming out in italics on the warm air, "will ya? I swear, we need to go that way."
He hesitated, obviously not wanting to, but unable to come up with any new arguments. Her point did make sense. He just doubted if the changes would occur to the landscape as quickly as she claimed they would.
"Fine," he sighed. "We can go that way. But if we don't get anywhere better by nightfall, we're heading back upstream in the morning."
Kitchel nodded enthusiastically, pounding her fist into her open palm. "Right! Grab that," she gestured to the lightweight wooden frame tautly bound together with the slender rope, "and follow me." Snatching the smoldering branch from Thatz, she started off again, light hair trailing about her face in the refreshing breeze.
He muttered, pushing his now worn gray sleeves up his arms and easily dragging the outline of the shelter after her, casting narrow rents in the dry ground from the narrow wooden poles.
The clouds passed lazily overhead, their thin shadows spreading over the land below as heavy wingbeats, and it wasn't long before Kitchel, several yards ahead of her companion, let out a delighted shout.
"Hurry up," she called, "get your tail over here!"
Her own was curled smugly about her legs, ears upright although one was turned back to the louder sound of water.
"I was right," she beamed, smiling broadly, "look at this."
He released his grip on the lightweight frame, letting it totter by the riverbed and begrudgingly nodded. "It does look a little wider," he admitted, noticing also the increased amount of grass lining it. "It's broadening quicker than I thought it would. The hills look like they open up some," he peered into their shadows, "if we head into there, we should be more sheltered from the wind."
The wind, indeed, had been plaguing them. During the day it was a mere breeze, a welcome relief from the uninhibited sun, but as soon as the night fell it gained in speed and tenacity, slipping into their rough shelter and picking its way through the threads of their blankets and clothes. They had to get the fire started early, so as to get it large enough to last through the dark without being blown out. Food for it they had in plenty; its only enemy was the persecuting wind.
Kitchel nodded as both of them noticed the sparse clusters of trees slowly even out into a slender blanket, providing the hills with a cool shade.
"I told you we should have just kept walking last time."
He winced internally. She was right, and they both knew it, although he was loath to admit it.
"Fine," he said, trying in vain to imitate a casual tone of voice, "I agree with you. Happy? Go get water to boil, and I'll start the fire again."
At least she was easier to get along with now that they weren't at each other's throats over every little mistake, he reluctantly noted. Once they had exhausted their tempers and settled halfheartedly into the task before them, he had found getting along with her nearly smooth. Not pleasant, he was quick to mentally add. Just easier than he had thought it would have been.
That by itself was surprise enough.
:n:
Night fell as expected and the land was washed in navy and violet, the turning of the world holding up as always under the weight of the years.
The wind swept across the land as well, stirring fallen leaves and the surface of the water as it arced its way back up the mountains, whistling over the creatures fast asleep below.
The ground was used by now to the miniature stars cast down upon them that burned hot and golden against the dry warm air. They were reminders of the eyes closely watching through the shadows, for they were markers throwing light upon the points of importance to those who cared about such things. The land itself didn't.
Was the darkness a shield, these sparks would be amber cracks within the finely wrought metal, betraying those who might have wanted it had they known of its purpose. As it was, however, the wind found it far too easy to test the strength of the unguarded blade, feeling out the thin steel with a series of fine cuts.
The fires flickered and the wind pulled back before they blew out.
Kharl sighed.
The game was just too simple.
Nadil was carefully watching the positions of the smoking glows, mentally marking their exact locations down. He had been pleased when they all settled for what seemed to be the final time. He said it made things easier.
Kharl agreed: too easy for his tastes.
He had waited and look where it had gotten him! To the very brink of boredom with no challenge now, no hope for any real fun. It was simple to strike a still target, even more so when the target didn't know you were coming or even a threat at all. The other man had wanted total dominance and it looked as though he would have it. Lykouleon was still oblivious, Kharl thought almost ruefully, or at least it seemed as though he was.
Watching the silver sheen of fog and mist between the shadows lining the stars, Kharl pouted.
Matching white and black figures curled around their shared darkness while a fire glowed outside the fortunate cave.
Not much to see there. Merely two fighting fate and rapidly losing although neither was yet aware of their movements in that particular game.
Three more: two shades of brown and a silver, all wrapped in homely gray lying sideways under the trees, a half finished structure alongside them and their smoldering light.
Barely anything more… just a slight satisfaction in the knowledge that only two of the three actually slept.
The last pair was unconscious at their new campsite, a bright orange light between them as they slept on either side of it, their actual beds for the moment forgotten.
There was even less to interest him here than at the other two. He cared little for what happened on these outskirts of the boundaries apart from awakening them on the occasional night with the sudden extinguishing of their fire.
Kharl straighted: he had been leaning over the edge of the stone wall, his light robes perfectly still although those of his companions now making their way over to him gusted about their forms. A confidential waver rose from the lips of the darker haired, intended for the other.
"…Worry. Everything will be run smoothly."
Kharl smiled, his pale eyes narrowing in sudden thought as Lykouleon nodded brightly.
"Yes," Lykouleon said, "I believe it will."
Kharl couldn't have put it better himself.
:n:
DKGurl:sweatdrop: Uh, yeah… I'll get on those… This is the only one where I actually have set dates for uploading the stuff, so it's the only one where I'm actually good about doing so… :shifty eyes at the pieces of other things to be finished:
Hououza: Wh00t, intrigued. XD; Thank you for the GL&BW. I like them. I think if they were a food, they'd be dark chocolate truffles with raspberry filling. o-o :has just realized this:
Random Irony: Oh, I like your name. n-n And thanks. I once read this Gundam Wing story where all the pilots had to be animals… but none could be cats. It was interesting what the author ended up coming up with. /offtopic
:n:
Okay, you know the drill.
…To be honest, this was ready for updating by 6/21. I just never got around to it until now.