A Reluctant Alliance

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Ana has made her way to the underbelly of the ship, the sound of the engine drawing her. It's soothing, like the deep rumbling of a dragon and instinct tells her that this sound will mask her noise, it will keep her safer. She moves with a flawed grace, her body starting to bleed again. It has not healed with her shifts. She is a mass of bruises and whip-marks, cuts. The only thing that has mended is her broken arm due to her bones snapping here and there, but everything else still hurts, still hinders her.

She is leaving a trail of blood now, small incriminating spatters on the metal floor. The dragon inside her doesn't care, though, and she's hardly thinking in any human-like way. She's knows she's being followed. She can smell him now, but he's alone and so she's not so worried anymore. She doesn't shift back, though, not yet because in here, her shape would have to be no bigger than a large horse and of little use. No, she will return to her dragon form, her true form when there is more room, when she can inflict a great deal more damage. For now, she simply tries to elude her hunter.

Jamekon knows the game that is being played, but right now he can't give any warning to Ana or try to break through to Oran. All he can concentrate on is the grate his tail is currently 'stuck' in. He's using every bit of Sight he has to locate the Config, but it's not easy. Foresight doesn't usually work like that and to make it work like that is extremely difficult. Not only does he have to find the device, but he also has to watch for soldiers, for people coming and to say the young Saliphian is stressed would be an understatement.

He knows when Oran will find Ana, what will happen when he does and Jamekon wants to prevent it, but there are two possible futures, but with good outcomes, but...one of them is more painful than the other, for both Ana and Oran and he'd rather not see that one come to pass.
 
The "game" that they're playing lasts a long time. Oran, without the helpful assistance of his goggles, has to rely on his own eyes. The energy humming around the engine gears interferes with his signal so Oran simply takes them off, throwing them to the side. Useless junk! He thinks to himself, the voice inside him responding in a melodic laugh. It's all one big game to him. Oran doesn't feel the same though, his heart jumping around every corner of this massive chamber. Despite the boots he has on, the prisoner doesn't make that much sound. He never had shackles on for his restraints are lined up with his spine.

Then he rounds one more corner, seeing a woman's figure. By her footsteps slowly making their way across the floor, Oran's mind immediately jumps at him to tackle her to the ground. But, for whatever malfunction in the device due to all the engines, Oran's body doesn't heed to the commands of the shouting voice in his head. Instead, he creeps behind her, keeping her within his gun's sight at all times. The red dot, assistance for where the bullet will eventually go, has been turned off. All lights and fancy switches have been shut down. It's only Ana, Oran, and the ambient lights of the long and tall engines whirring at either side of them.

The Kel'korian is in a fighting mood, his fire even dying down to keep his presence behind Ana a secret even from himself. But, without the flames, he feels weak as if the produced gravity in the ship might crunch down on him at any moment. They are his crutch so that he can stand tall and now that they've simmered down to a soft blue light, he feels useless. At least it helps him not stand out like a sore thumb for the engines are a different shade of blue but still blue enough for him to be as stealthy as possible. When he is close enough, not sure if Ana is just waiting for the opportunity, Oran attempts to wrap an arm around her neck and commence a choke hold. Little does the voice in his head know, she won't go down without a fight.
 
She smells him. How can she not? And Ana lets him get close, lets him think he's being oh so stealthy - and he would have been, very much so, if only he could hide his scent - but when he tries to wrap his arm around her, she comes to life, a live wire that writhes in his hold. Her claws come out and she leaves deep punctures in his arm as her tail lashes back against his stomach, pushing him forcefully away from her.

The female stumbles, her back crying out with the abuse, tail quivering with pain as the motion has agitated the cuts, but when she whirls to face Oran, it's with bared fangs and a screech of fury. She doesn't see him as the man she's secretly fallen in love with, nor the temporary ally Jamekon tried to convince her he was. She sees nothing but an enemy who is trying to kill her and doesn't care WHY he is. It doesn't matter. She will kill him before he can do the same to her.

She leaps toward him, fully intending to take him to the ground if she can, to gut him with a wicked claws.

Jamekon curses. Dammit. Wrong future. Painful future. Great. Can nothing go right on this bloody rescue mission?! The young Saliphian continued to curse to himself and then stops when his tail brushes the Config. He nearly beams. YES!
 
Out of everyone in this galaxy, Oran has to be fighting Ana - the woman who has seen him fight a million times with his elder brother and thousands of other times with their enemies. She knows his next move even before he does, making this fight an advantage for her. The device jammed up on his spine causes him to lose his ability to remember her flaws at fighting. No matter what the man does, he cannot find a her sweet spot. For some its a simple trip or a slam to an injury and they're down for the rest of the battle and others its simply running their agility down until their endurance breaks. Unfortunately for Ana, Oran may lose all ability to even lift up his chin but the man won't stop. He never quits.

So when he is pushed away from her, crashing into the side of a generator and collapsing to the ground, he gets back up like any good soldier would do. He can be smacked around until the cows come home but he will never stop. Maybe that's why the Hive picked him to be their little experiment. The device strapped to his back is a prototype and this fight is simply a test to see what the subject, being Oran, can endure. When he misses a punch or kick, they give him a small shock to keep him pushing. It actually helps tighten his muscles, making his torso soon feel like the metal around him. Firm and unbreakable.

Getting up, he keeps his barrage of fists coming, trying to hit or smack any cut or ruined flesh he can see past the scales littering her body. Remorse is not something programmed in his machine-like mind now so when Ana cries out, he just smiles like a victor. Every blow for him, he believes, could be the last blow so he makes them count. Her tail is like a third arm for her, causing Oran to break some of the already cracked piping and use it as a nightstick. He waits for her to swing at him, he ducks or sidesteps, and then brings the weight of the metal down on her - or at least attempts to. The fire erupts from every vein or pour of his body, causing him to be a walking furnace. Every time he is hit, the flames only grow along with its paired anger.
 
Several blows land on Ana's body, some of them tolerable, others excruciating and her previous injuries are hindering her greatly as the worst kind of fiery pain spreads through her when her already abused body is struck just right. She and Oran have never fought in earnest and now it is almost fortunate that they are both impaired in some way. The fierce warriors that they are, if one had been crippled and the other healthy, the battle would have been short. As it was, they seemed to be almost evenly matched.

If Ana had gotten the time to shift, it would have been different, but as it was she could not afford to disengage from the battle at hand to allow her body the time and space it needed to transform. It frustrates her, but she can do nothing but keep on fighting and she does. Her claws leave bloody furrows along any part of Oran's body that she can snag into and at one point, she bit him, but was quickly shoved back, sent sprawling, her body protesting getting up.

Even now she is on the ground again, rising, coughing up blood and another blow from Oran sends her down before she can get back up fully. Ana looks up at him in defiance...but there is no hate. No, she watches the fire that dances around him like a furnace and a soft crooning sound comes from her throat. It's questioning and sad. She does not understand why the fire has betrayed her. She's heard if for years, ever since Oran was born, before even Ana could know of it. The flames have called to her, sang to her for years, growing louder in the last few months, drawing her in....and now they seem to not recognize her and she does not understand.

It is not pain that keeps her down now. It is grief, the sadness of a breaking heart.

--

Jamekon looked at the Config for a moment, almost unable to believe it was finally in his hand. And then the young Saliphian was darting to his feet...and running straight into a Hive member. He looked up with wide eyes before glancing from the port he needs and back to the alien. The creature is reaching for him, speaking in its native tongue and Jamekon knows he can save Oran and Ana at a risk that he might pay the ultimate price for it....or he can run and hope that the future shows another escape....but perhaps without his sister or Oran.

He doesn't even really need to think about it.

Jamekon darts to the side and with a grunt, he shoves the device into the port, pressing a rapid code. Red alarms start flashing and the young Saliphian grins before he is grabbed. He doesn't even care. He's saved Oran and Ana.
 
Oran cannot say the same thing for his eyes as Ana does when she looks up at him with her defiant hues. The man, in his state, cannot see the broken heart in her eyes for all he cares about is finishing up what he started. The black pipe, now riddled with dark red blotches, rises once again to strike her. The man's attacks are relentless, heeding to the unknown master inside his own brain. No matter how weak his body feels right now, her claw marks stinging when stationary or moving, Oran finds the strength in his flames to raise the pipping. He'll kill her if its not for Jamekon's haste in connecting the Config to the ports.

A sharp cry is exhaled from Oran's lungs as blue lightening riddles his spine, the device pulling itself into a standby position. The only sound, other than the calm engines, is the clatter of the dark metal on the grated floor. Blood drips down through the cross hatching from both Ana and Oran. The soldier drops to his knees and then Ana can witness the damage. The fish-hooks retreat, slicing open his skin, leaving a trail of red to dribble down his entire back. The shirt he once had on, signaling his status on this ship, has been torn to shreds by Ana. Not to mention, his shoulder has deep fang marks ripping apart the flesh there, the yellow color now soaked in crimson.

Every muscle in Oran's body burns, the cuts and slashes not having the proper time to heal. Movement is necessary and until they're off of this Hive ship, the prince cannot stop moving. Even as the blue light sparks across his back, soaking into his skin as it makes its way around his ribcage, he crawls his way towards Ana. She would be able to feel the metal grate rattle with pure energy but it doesn't hurt her for Oran is taking all the damage, his heart unable to take such raw power. Reaching about half way between him and his wife, the shocking stops, the device shutting off. Finally, his mind is clear but his body smells like burnt flesh.

Digging his fingers into the grating, he pulls himself along, unable to comprehend what has happened in the last hour they've been down here. "A...Ana?" he breathes, only seeing her tail and bright hair through his blurry vision before all goes black. The man doesn't give up though, his mission incomplete. His lack of consciousness may have lasted about thirty seconds before his eyes flicker open once again. Now mere inches from Ana's body, he reaches out, "Ana?!" He calls out desperately, his fingers curling in on themselves, his mind thinking she is close enough to touch. He blacks out again for a short moment, his arm flopping down on the cold, vibrating metal.
 
She doesn't rise to help him, barely even realizes what is actually happening. She watches all that goes on, feels the power crackling in the air, smells the burnt flesh, knows that something important is happening, but she can't comprehend it properly and all she knows is that she's alive, that he hasn't killed her and for some reason, she no longer feels the need to kill him. At least not at the moment. The blood makes a flicker of concern rise in her, but she still doesn't move, not responding when he quietly says a word that the young Saliphian had said as well.

Ana. He calls for this Ana as he moves toward her, but the female makes sure he can't touch her. She doesn't trust him to touch her and when he blacks out, she slowly, painfully makes her way to her feet. Her body trembles and screams its protests against what she is doing, how she is forcing it to comply with her demands, but instinct to survive drives the animalistic side of her on, makes her stay on her feet because to not have her feet under her is death.

She shifts, slowly, painfully but soon it is the dragon looking down at the blacked out human and for a long moment, the dragon doesn't know what to do about him. She wants to flame him into a charred mass of flesh and charcoal for the pain he's inflicted on her, but something far deeper, a desire she doesn't understand and doesn't care to makes her still the raging heat at the back of her throat and instead she snarls, but using a combination of her tail and claws, she lifts the limp body and deposits it between her wings and across the lower half of her neck.

And then she resists the urge to shake like a dog annoyed by a pesky tick.

The dragon is not graceful as she makes her way from the belly of the ship. She is exhausted and hurt and ill-tempered and when the first enemy presents itself in the blood-red glowing hallway of alarms, she burns them to a crisp before moving on. Now she just needs to find that small brat and she can leave. And luckily for her and Oran, Jamekon has managed to escape in the chaos of the disabled ship. Yeah, he kinda had to bite someone and make them think they were on fire, but hey, whatever works, right? Now the young Saliphian darts through the ship, knowing he will meet Ana and Oran soon.

Then they just have to get to a ship. Just one ship. What could possibly go wrong?
 
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Oran lies motionless on her back as she fights and gallivants down the hallway and picks off Hive member after hive member. The Kel'korian is completely unaware that he has been saved, only feeling the ground shake beneath his body. Whatever strength he needs to open his eyes fail him, his hands only clinging onto the scales of her body. They are, after all, his only lifeline. The device is still in his back and can be manually jumpstarted so if he topples off and into the Hive's hands, he might as well be a goner. Luckily for him, Ana, or the enraged Draykoni saving his life, either consciously or not, prevents him from sliding down her sides with the assistance of her wings. They are of no use in these cramped hallways so, for the meantime, they'll be used as his personal safety belt.

Jamekon is now having less trouble by the guards since their bigger problem is the rampaging red beast that rips their ship apart from the inside out. They try to open doors but the immediate lockdown of the ship forces them to stay in their assigned areas while Ana simply rips through the metal with her large claws. The never-ending beeping of the alarm follows them everywhere, the assorted colors of the hallways now all blaring red. Luckily for Ana, the dart gun used by Oran has been disposed down in the engine room. Unless one of the Hive men go looking, the powerful weapon will stay hidden.

The ship Ana and Oran came here on, their own ship, has been long scrapped for precious metals and goods. The only way to escape this mess will be to commandeer one of the blood stained vehicles. It's a risky move but it seems like the only option these three have. Once they reach allied galaxies, they might be immediately stopped and searched by other world's policemen. The Hive have long been known as barbarians and any of their ships are normally shot on sight but it depends who they'll be dealing with if they come out of this alive. Their luck seems to be getting better, momentum for their escape increasing rapidly.
 
She finds the child quite suddenly and Jamekon doesn't even stop his forward momentum, clambering up her leg and situating himself before Oran, hanging on to the dragon's neck. She keeps going, not even glancing back and the small Seer grimaces and winces in sympathy when he glances back at the human, taking note of the many bloody areas on his body. Ouch. Good thing Ana doesn't have venom. THAT would have been interesting to deal with.

They race through the corridors and the dragon is unstoppable by this point. She wants OUT and what she wants, she's going to get. She doesn't care how many Hive members she has to go through to get it. They have made a grave mistake bringing her aboard this vessel for she is tearing it apart and as the great red creature comes to the ship bay, she doesn't even stop at the rail, sailing down to the deck below, landing with a resounding noise like thunder that is almost immediately drowned out by a roar as fire sweeps from her open maw, devouring anything and everything unfortunate enough to be close by.

The Hive run, maybe for the first time in a long time facing an enemy they don't know how to defeat without proper planning. Sheer numbers mean nothing to the dragon who merely uses them as tinder to fuel her rage and their weapons don't penetrate her armor, not unless they use something specialized and that's not commonly issued to mere soldiers. The hanger is soon clear of most threat as she rampages and then Jamekon's voice runs through her head.

You have to shrink! You won't fit in the ship - it's that one, right there.

She almost feels a nudge looks toward the vessel indicated. While the dragon doesn't like taking orders, she does want to be free of this place so she starts to shrink as she runs for the ramp and when they reach the ship door, Jamekon jumps off and punches in a code. He's been waiting for his moment for a long time. He's going to damn well knowing the security pass to get him off this hammerhead ship and away from his tormentors. The door slides open and all three of them enter. The young Seer darts for the cockpit and the dragon follows. She unceremoniously dumps Oran's body off her when she reaches her destination, shifting back down to her more humanoid form. She could care less what kind of state of dress she's in or how her wounds bleed, her task fixed before her eyes.

Her fingers and mind seem to understand the controls and Jamekon guides her in what she does not know until the ship hums to life and they start to lift off the ground.
 
With the Hive members scrambling all over the hanger, Jamekon, Ana, and the incapacitated Oran, make their escape. Jamekon, by no chance move, has picked a spaceship that has just been refueled, all the gages showing signs of a happy engine having lots and lots of fuel to gobble up as they rip down the miles of the galaxy in a speedy getaway. But with many of the Hive members turning quickly to their own ships, starting them up and punching all the controls with ease. Soon a whole fleet of spiky red ships are following Jame's ship. Luckily for them, Oran is knocked out and not attempting to sabotage them in any way.

Even though the device might be unhooked from his spinal chord, flashbacks of what he has done will rip apart his sleeping brain with as much force as Ana tore through the blast doors of the Hammerhead or queen bee ship. Torment causes his injured body to shake, believing that he is getting shocked with volts even though no energy is pulsing through his core. Along with those flashbacks may come, every so often, commands from that low voice stuck deep within the folds of his brain. He or she might tell Oran that the only way to survive is to do XYZ and the Kel'korian might actually believe this command. In his heart, he will feel a momentary warmth but all fades once he opens his eyes and the horrors playing on his eyelids cease.

The Hive follows Ana and Jamekon back through the minefield for it's the only way past the circumference of deadly spikes surrounding the mother ship. Most of them easily navigate through the field, the spikes of their own ships twisting and spinning. Once close enough, a few Hive ships start to open fire at them, causing the crew to think fast. To return fire, they'll have to be -facing- their enemies. Its a flaw in the design but perhaps such information bleeping across the crystal screen might come in handy in a firefight.
 
Ana and Jamekon work the ship they are in to the best of their abilities and it's good that Jamekon has more knowledge than he should as he takes control of the steering and can start maneuvering around the mines and enemy fire almost before they even occur. It's hard work, though, and he can't be on top of everything. Ana fills in where he can't be and when he suddenly whips the ship around a mine and uses that maneuver to face their enemies, Ana starts firing. Her training kicks in even if she is not really herself at the moment, her body knowing what to do even if her mind is lost and she retaliates as long as she is able before Jamekon is forced to turn the ship back around.

Flying backwards is apparently a bit dangerous.

They weaved their way through the minefield and Jamekon took every opportunity to make their enemies mess up, letting their own mines kill them. Soon they ere being chased by less and less ships and while Jamekon had been flying, Ana had been working the wires down below. The Config had disabled the hyper-drive on all the ships, even the small ones, but with a few - okay, a lot - of tweaks, Ana was sure she had it working outside the control of the mother ship.

If not, they were dead as soon as they left the mines.

If it worked...

Jamekon didn't seem worried and as they broke free from the dangerous maze of death, he pushed the button that would send them hurtling across space in the blink of an eye. The ship had been prepared as much as it could be while running for their lives and it wasn't the smoothest jump by far, but they DID jump and when the ship shuddered to a halt, so did the pounding in the small Seer's heart.

They were safe.
 
The turmoil going on around Oran is lost for when he opens his eyes for a moment, the world around him rapidly spinning, all he sees is the dimly lit hallway near the exit that he has been dropped off at. According to him, he feels as though he is still face down on that grate in the engine room. The ship is dark and his vision is everything but pristine. The familiar hum of the engine puts the man right back to sleep with his cheek against the dirty floor. Jakemon will have to call over some help in order to move the man for the man's wisdom is no pedestal to his strength.

When he forces his eyes open, Oran's entire body tingles with a warm welcome. There is no pain in this sedated state as long as he doesn't move his body. Unfortunately for him, the worried soldier in him immediately tries to sit up and assess if he is dead or alive. He, certainly, isn't back in the confinements of the Hive prison. The white of the hospital sheets nearly blinds him, warm sunlight pouring in from the open window. It isn't his room but it smells familiar to him. The smell of sterile alcohol in sealed jars and fresh cotton balls stored with other instruments on the small counter that is his bedside table. Hospital. Recovery room. Home. His own voice confirms, his eyes looking out the window to see the tops of the city's buildings. How he has missed their arches and domes.

"Nurse?" He tries to ask, his mouth drier than the desert outside. Swallowing what he can before asking again. But this time, it's not the nurse he calls but his own wife, "Ana? Ana, are you there? Are... are you alive?" Silently he waits for an answer in the maddening dullness of the room. A curtain shields him from the coughing, hacking, and groaning of the other patients. All he can think about now is if he kept his promise. A Kel'korian is bound to honor, yes, but this time he is worried for his own heart's sake.
 
Jamekon had gotten them back to their home. It was a great burden to place on a child, bandaging up both his sister and his brother-in-laws as best he could before hyper-jumping numerous times to get them to safety, having to hail down the planet so as to not be shot....it's no wonder when help finally come he collapses. All three are rushed to the hospital and Jamekon recovers first. He has met Oran's youngest brother and the two get along rather well. At the moment the young Saliphian is coming into Oran's room, having 'seen' him waking and he smiles at the man, orange tail swinging easily, his body completely recovered but for a few scars he will carry with him for the rest of his life.

He grins as he approaches and nearly bounces on the bed, knowing Oran will probably not like it and not caring because he is a cheeky brat like that and knows it, too. "She's alive. You didn't kill her and we're all back home." He hands Oran a glass of water and glances at the door and then Oran once more, expression a bit more serious. She's not...herself. I've been working with her, trying to draw her out of her mind and she's coming along slowly, but...I think she's waiting for something; you.

It's blunt, but that's Jamekon and the small Seer stands and gives the human a look. "So, you getting up any time soon? She's just down the hall. They won't let her out yet."
 
Fredrakio is as cheery as always, hiding the fact that he is worried sick about his big brother. Remembering Anahsi's kindness from long ago, he visits her quite often as well. Bringing some of his favorite books with him, the young Kel'korian reads to Ana whether she is actually listening or not. Having his eyes glued to the white pages of old herbal remedy's and cures for the wildest illnesses, he thinks less of the husband and wife he adores so much. Wiping his eyes often, the young man speaks to Ana often but her mind seems far, far, away. Still, the young boy keeps going to both her and Oran, hoping he can help in whatever way possible. He has taken quite the liking to Jamekon, not minding the young boy's forward nature. In fact, he quite admires it!

"Oh get off, ow, get off the bed!" Oran starts to growl at the bouncing Saliphian, attempting to push him off but the man's arms are attached to all sorts of tubes and needles. "Don't you ever understand..." he huffs, not even attempting to finish the rest of his angry howling. But such emotions simmer down once Ana comes back into the conversation. He actually smiles, a wide smile as he imagines her bright eyes staring back at him on the backs of his eyelids. "Oh that's good," he slumps back down against the pillows of his hospital bed, still half sitting up to stare at Jamekon.

"Help me up, Jame. I need to see her." Oran swallows, not wanting to think of what mangled body he might find, "And she is healing well? The... the last thing I remember is blood on those white walls. Her blood. A pole rammed through her tail," his hand goes to his mouth, not able to imagine the pain that must be pulsing from such a blow, "lacerations. Cuts... the works. What... before we go... what happened in the Hive ship? How did we get out? All I remember is running down the hallway with you and then, bam, the rest is blank. Tell me, Jamekon." Oran can figure out what has happened but he just wants to know the truth, "I need to apologize if I hurt her in any way. Please tell me I didn't hurt her. I didn't hurt you."
 
Jamekon sobers as he helps the man from the bed because he knew these questions were coming. It is the young Seers way of coping; goofing off as much as he can because he has so much swirling in his mind at once, so many hard and bad things that he can't possibly remain stoic all the time lest he crumble from the pressure. He's learned to laugh, to tease, to exasperate and make everyone roll their eyes at him because he needs that. He needs to remind them that he's a child and he needs to remind himself.

He sighs as Oran finds his feet and though he is small, he helps steady the human as much as he can as she speaks mentally to Oran, not wanting others to hear such personal information for Oran's sake and for Ana's. Her body is healing well, much like yours, but her mind is...not doing so well. She sometimes seems to know who she is, where she is, but she won't speak and it is difficult for us to get her attention. She doesn't want to be touched, but I make her anyway.

The child bites his lip, wishing anyone else could answer the other questions, but knowing it must be him. Other than Ana, he's the only one who knows what happened on that ship, that horrible day. You didn't hurt me. We were running and then the Hive activated the device on your back. You couldn't have controlled it, Oran, so...try not to blame yourself.

Jamekon sighs and scuffs his feet, looking down, orange hair a mess. You and Ana....fought. You both injured each other quite badly, but I found the Config and the device stopped working. Ana transformed back into a dragon then and she and I got all of us out. Some high-speed chasing and laser battles, a hyper-jump or two and here we are. He forced a smile, looking up and purposely did not tell Oran how close he'd come to killing Ana.
 
Silently, he understands why Jame chooses to speak to him through his mind. I could have predicted as much. You did tell me... well, you know. Oran's weight is now being carried by the small boy but he reaches over and grabs a crutch device and immediately lifts his weight from Jame's shoulders. Even though he pretends that all the words crashing into his body like small bullets are nothing, the Seer can see his shoulders sag. Noticeably sag but still, the human admits nothing about his shattered self. Right now, he is too concerned about Ana to worry about his onw health.

His only happiness will be when he knows Ana is well again. Right now he is half a man, the second part of his beating heart now in a woman who needs to be reminded of her own name, who she is, and the people who care for her. But she is will be alright? Will she? But as soon as Oran asks, he shakes his head, "i know she will be alright. I can feel it." Such confidence in his words but does the man really believe it? Sighing, he stands by Ana's door, simply looking at the wood before motioning for Jamekon to let him inside. "I would like to be with her alone, Jame. If you would be so kind to ask them all to leave."

And Jamekon. Thank you for all you have done. I guess under my reign, I'll be a bit more trusting of your people and your ... kind. You'll be the man to wash away all my troubles but don't worry. I won't tire you out. In fact, I won't even seek you out. You'll come to me if there is any problems in my future. But right now, just, let me try and coax Ana out of the broken and shattered body you know is laying on that bed right now. Thank you. Now go and do what you want - you need not worry about us. He can only empathize what Jame has gone through but Oran knows one thing, something taught to him by his younger brother: let kids be kids for they'll know when to become adults just like you.
 
Jamekon knows his words hit hard and he doesn't want them to, but can't avoid it. He knows there is much more he must tell Oran as well, things he will not want to hear, but the young Seer also knows it will be the start of something new, something better and he wishes that for Oran and Ana very much. He smiles a bit at the human's confident words, but doesn't answer right away as they reach the door and he listens to the rest of what the Kel'korian has to say.

He smiles at the words and resists the urge to chuckle because he can see so many futures where he and Oran talk. They become friends as Jamekon gets older, a friendship people would not expect but a good one. He nods at the human and sets a hand on Oran's arm before he opens the door. "She'll be all right." he assures quietly before pushing the door open and stepping into the room. He orders everyone out and they listen because, well, the last time they didn't he started rambling on about everyone's incredibly embarrassing secrets. They don't want a repeat of that so they scatter and he grins at Oran before leaving with a skip in his step, always looking like he has a secret he's not telling.

He leaves Oran in the room with Ana.

She is sleeping on her side, her hair loose, body clean and she's bandaged here and there, but medical science is amazing and she's healing well. Her tail is heavily bandaged, both cuts and broken bones under the wrappings from the torture and the merciless pipe that had been in Oran's hands. She's bruised, but those are fading, only yellow and purple in some areas and her back - she's wearing a scooped-back tank top - is streaked with pink skin, new scars, but the healing has been enhanced and she's no longer pained by such things.

Her chest rises and falls in what looks like a calm manner, but her hand clutches the sheet tightly and there is a frown on her face, showing she dreams but not of pleasant things. All in all, she looks like herself, injured, but alive and mending.
 
Oran, caught up in his own thoughts, hardly notices that Jame has left the room for as soon as his feet shuffles through the threshold, his eyes are upon his dear wife. His heart starts to beat faster in his chest as he wobbles his way over to her bedside. Seeing those large bruises along with whip marks and other obvious signs of torture, Oran almost regrets coming here. His heart drops into his stomach and he swears he can feel the acid chew it completely up. Nothing can be worse - but! At least she is breathing and recovering. It's all he can ever ask for.

Kneeling before her bedside, Oran reaches out for her hands. His fingers are littered with claw slashes but his arms and torso have been dealt the most damage. The occasional cut on his legs from when he kicked her but for the most part, he is healing up just fine. Just as she will be doing. The thought warms him, almost as warm as his touch brings to her hand. They will recover and forget about fighting one another. Hopefully she doesn't remember them almost killing one another. Maybe Oran can even lie about ... no. He won't be a coward. He did this and she deserves to know so that she can deal with him in any way she desires.

"Ana?" he whispers, wanting her to know its him. The curve of her lips down, such worry wrinkling her face, disturbs him. Without thinking, his free hand comes up and his palm presses against her cheek. Closing his eyes, he allows his skin to break apart, small spurts of his element coming alive. Focusing on what he desires, Oran can only hope that she accepts his warmth. "Ana, it's me. It's Oran. Your husband." comes more of his whispers. He doesn't want to wake her up but he hopes to break through the barriers of her mind and soothe the troubled ground that lies there. His flames always calm her much like a hot steam room does to his own muscles. He hates to see her balled up. Tense. He bites his lower lip as he waits for any reaction that may come.
 
She doesn't react to his voice. It's just another noise in a sea of noise around her. For days she's listened to them, slowly comprehending, but not caring about what they have to say. She only reacts more strongly to Jamekon, but it's simply because he's a pain in the arse and won't leave her alone. He practically pulls her out of the darkness kicking and screaming mentally and he doesn't care the pesky brat. But it's been helping. The darkness is not so dark now, just deep shadows that she is starting to see through, past and she sees something now even as she starts to close up away from the voice she doesn't want to heed.

It's bright, so bright it almost hurts her eyes though it's only a flicker at first. She watches it grow, realizing that it's fire, but it's not her own. The Draykoni part of her is oddly calm, reserved almost as if its waiting for something. She at first thinks that the warmth she suddenly feels will draw the creature out, but it doesn't and it doesn't release her. It hasn't released her since coming back to awareness. She has lost her voice to the animal instinct and it won't let her go until it gets what it wants, tired of being hurt and rejected and betrayed.

It doesn't care about the words or the warmth, but she wants to go toward it, fights against the instinct that holds her and the Draykoni finally relented slightly, letting her wake at least. And Ana does, she wakes and her eyes lock on to Oran's amber, her own hazel still slightly hazed over, as if she's not quite there, but she watches the man before her and there is no anger in her gaze and some interest lurks in the depth of her expression.

She comes out of her nightmares that she doesn't even really see, but she feels them and fears them. The warmth draws her away from the horrors of her sleep and she relaxes slowly, his touch not painful even if she doesn't really seem to recognize him. The gold in her eyes refuses to come back. It is the Draykoni within her and it is still angry, very much so.
 
When she opens her eyes, Oran lets out a soft sigh. Relief causes the muscles in his arms to relax, his hand now cupping her face geniality, his fingers no longer trembling. The silence between them once she opens his eyes pushing him more into his confused mind. He can see her eyes staring at him but they're different. Normally she smiles when their golden hues collide. This time, her face is merely blank. She is trying to understand? Is she attempting to speak but the words can't leave her throat? There is no purring present, the Draykoni locked deep within her.

"Welcome to the world of the living," Oran breathes, slipping his warm fingers through her hair. She hasn't pulled away yet, so he figures she, whatever parts he might be witnessing right now, desires him. Well, more importantly, his flames. He can't blame her but his fingers soon run over her lips, his words still as soft as the bedding she lies on currently.

"Don't speak, my dear Ana. Just know that the flames are with you." No matter if she is paying attention or now, she will (he hopes) be able to see the emotions past his eyes. The pulls and pushes that lie there in his own internal struggle. He wants to apologize but right now, he isn't sure if she knows who he is. Taking in a deep breath, he adds, "Oran's flames will never betray you again." The device has been taken off of his spine, leaving his back a bit deformed but all the bumps and burns will heal. Carefully, he brings himself off of the floor and sits on the edge of the bed, wanting her to reach out for him in some way. Any way. Until that moment, he is satisfied just sitting and holding her hand.
 
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