Hello lovelies!
I received such good response from the last chapter that I was quick to update, as not to leave you all waiting. Thank-you so much for the messages and reviews, I bask in everyone's approval. This is a little gift for you all, as this chapter wasn't supposed to come out until next week. My college courses just started again, so expect a little delay with the next chapter. No worries, though! I have a much longer chapter planned and this time it shall be written from the point of view of the mysterious A'chide himself. I left a cliffhanger to leave everyone wanting more.
Also, the model, Carolina Thaler, is my muse for Camilla. Carolina is who I envision when I see Camilla, if anybody wanted a visual image.
Comments and critique are very much appreciated.
Something was wrong. He was late. And A'chide was never late.
Everything was on time, calculated, and planned. It was something entirely Yautja about him; the entire species was wired like clocks. Punctuality was in there nature.
Camilla sat in her chair facing the dining hall's entrance. Behind her a large glass window faced out onto miles and miles of dead jungle; grey spindly trees warped and discolored. The background was an endless black, starless sky. She fiddled with her empty liquor glass, smoothed her skirts over her knees, tapped a few fingers on the table. She was becoming fidgety.
The table was elegantly dressed with all of A'chide's favorites. Camilla felt her stomach rumble; she had not eaten anything at all in preparation for this feast. It was impolite to start without her master, but she was beginning to worry that the food would go cold. She picked at the meat, tearing herself off another small, unnoticeable piece. She chewed and swallowed it, sighing at the empty chair across from her.
Everything was perfect and waiting for his arrival.
Her ceremony dress had fit like a glove and she had left her hair loose parted down the middle. She wore her utility band on her arm and glanced over at the time. He was very late.
Camilla kept her shoulders straight, staring down at the time on her watch until she finally gave up and slumped in her chair.
A large rumble outside brought her out of the stupor she had fallen into, and she heard the main door to the house close shut followed by heavy footsteps and a large slam of something colliding with the floor. Camilla gripped her chair handles, sitting back up. The slam was uncharacteristic of A'chide's normal arrival, and she wondered if she should go see what was wrong.
Instinct, however, told her to stay put and do as she had done before. The slam was probably connected to his lateness. Whatever that slam was the result of was not something good.
There was silence for a while, Camilla squirmed in her chair, and for a moment she believed she had gone insane and made the noises up.
She looked down at her hands, but looked up again when the doors to the dining hall slid open.
A'chide was standing there attired in full hunting garb with another Yautja, a Yautja whose skin was dark grey, dressed similarly. She remained calm, plastering a smile on her face as a sign of welcome. A'chide looked angry and she attempted to alleviate some of his anger by acting as if nothing was wrong and she was most pleased to see he and his guest. His muscles were tense, as were his guest's, and Camilla knew she should be tentative. A tense Yautja was never a good thing.
He chuffed at the Yautja with him and Camilla understood the command, "Stay here."
She watched as her master made his way towards her.
A'chide's frame was large and she had come to learn that he outsized most other males including the one standing in the dining room as well.
His shoulder span was the size of her arm span, her head barely scraped his pectorals, and he had immense hands that had killed many things larger than him. The hunting garb he wore consisted of his leather sarong, protective netting that he wore on his chest, arms, and legs and the alien metal defensive shields on his forearms and calves. A'chide's blood mark was on his broad forehead and his mane of hair, or what Camilla had always called hair, was flared.
She searched his face for a sign of what was wrong. A subtle hint at why he was in such a temper. He looked at her and it was a look that made her blood run cold.
It was anger.
Camilla immediately began to panic. Clutching at the chair's arms, she felt herself cower a bit. As a child, she had trembled in A'chide's presence when he was in such a temper. As a grown girl, she still did.
The young woman opened her mouth to say something but thought silence was the best.
"Go to your rooms."
A'chide clicked this out harshly and Camilla jumped a bit at the sound of his voice.
Was this her fault?
The thought quickly raced through her mind and she hastily glanced around at the dining room. Everything was as it should be. Perfect. He had not even looked at the table spread or acknowledged anything she had done. If anybody should be upset, it should be her.
He grabbed her wrist, his grip was firm and a little bit painful, and pulled her out of the chair. She stumbled a bit to her feet shocked and looked imploringly up at him.
"What did I do?"
She couldn't keep silent any longer. She had obviously done something wrong and wished to fix it.
A'chide was silent and looked at her sternly. He was daring her to question him.
Camilla rose to the challenge.
"I said, what did I do to anger you?"
Stomping her foot for emphasis, Camilla watched him intently. In the back of her mind, a voice inside her head warned her that she was crossing a boundary; but, Camilla didn't care.
The towering Yautja in front of her took a step forward and growled. Camilla took a step back and deflated a bit. Her anger was subsiding into morose fear.
"Go to your rooms, pua'tono."
Pua'tono. Child.
The other Yautja thrilled slightly in amusement and Camilla tore her gaze from A'chide to look at him. He was staring at her like she was entertainment and she flushed embarrassed.
Her master had just called her a child.
He did not mean child in the human sense of the word; it was more of a demeaning term. A'chide had just called her a dependent, a weakling, an inferior.
It was a term she had often heard used when Elders in the marketplace berated their protégés. The word had cut deep for the young Yautjas then, and Camilla felt its sting now as well.
Collecting herself, she nodded her head attempting to hide the hurt in her eyes before giving a half-bow to her master. Such formality had long been lost on them, but Camilla felt it was necessary now. She did not look at A'chide again but, instead, turned and quickly left the room, passing the large grey Yautja standing just before the door.
Once in the hall, Camilla attempted not to cry. Tears were weakness and she had been taught long ago that weakness was not acceptable.
Her head was beginning to ache from everything that had just conspired. Tears were beginning to fall freely and the woman ran the rest of the way to her rooms.
The doors opened and she quickly collapsed on her sleeping pallet, bringing her knees to her chest and hugging them to her body.
Camilla's tears tapered off and she just laid there curled up in a ball. Her eyes were closed, her mind wishing away the reality of her situation. Exhaustion eased the ache in her body and she soon succumbed to sleep.
That was how A'chide found her when he entered her rooms.