Prism

[DotCom]

They had all four of them been out for a week now, and even Siya was beginning to worry.

It was, unlike the rest of her worries, hovering more and more at the forefront of her mind. Strange to be nervous again after the skies had lightened, but then it felt wrong to be so happy when four of her closest friends hadn't even been able to celebrate yet.

The first thing they had done had been to find Mori and Rora. Everyone on the planet had heart, felt, seen the lightning Mori released across the sky, and even before the heavens began to clear, they knew the war had been won. If there had been lingering shadows, none of them, not even Siya, had noticed right away. The plan had been to wait for the 'signal' from Kaloranis, then find the spirit and the Maiden, and that was precisely what Siya and Yenna had done.

The protection over the twins this time around was two fold. Siya had not been surprised to see the shield of white light over Rora's belly, despite the Empath's shivering. But there had been something else there, something she could feel, though not explain, something, apparently beyond the scope of even Yenna's reasoning. Still. This much was familiar. Rora and Mori were wrapped up and tucked away as the rest of the nation went about post-war repairs.

For Siya, Tac, and Yenna, those 'repairs' had been finding Rask and Lyra first. The two had been separated somehow, though none of the Aavan or Cerebrae who'd brought them in had been able to explain it. Rask had been brought first, weak with cold and shuddering violently. The Healers seemed at a loss as to what was wrong with him, and the only people who might have explained were unconscious.

Lyra was second, shivering somewhat, but more badly burned. Still, her condition was easier to explain. A blue Aavan named Mychos had brought her in, saying she'd been sent after Asesee at the behest of Rask, and had apparently sacrificed herself, however unsuccessfully, to buy the female Aavan a chance to escape. Even Siya had felt somewhat sickened at the sight of charred flesh that crawled from Lyra's right hip up her ribs and down her arm to her finger tips, but the Keeper was still breathing, so it was decent enough.

There were more and many wounded to be brought in, and for a time, it seemed none of them would recover, as many of the wounded and lost were and had been Healers. But unlike last time, the sadness and exhaustion that followed the battle was highlighted with a pervasive sense of joy and oneness.

The war had been won. The Ashkerai had been destroyed. The planet was theirs to share.

And share they did. Moreso now then ever before, the Aavan and Cerebrae worked together. Refugees were cared for until they were well enough to travel again -- though few did. By now, everyone knew of the children that were coming, the children of Kaloranis and the Maiden, the two that had saved the planet. The plains were slowly built into an extension of the Matriarch's city, which was now being called the Capitol City. Word traveled in from more distant villages, where Aavan too young, too old, or too sick to fly had gone to the ground. New people came to the city every day to give the Destined Children, as they were being called, their blessings.

The city had been destroyed in the war, but was being rebuilt with regular accommodations for Aavan who wanted to stay. It held dark memories of a century of slavery, yes. But now it also held the promise of peace and success. The war had been won, and a new age was starting.

--

Rora was the first to wake of her friends, and the prickle of fear was soon quashed by the pleasant discomfort of the pregnancy and the immediate recollection of the war. She could feel Mori's weight beside her, and she could feel her children within her, and while she was not so foolish as to believe all danger had passed -- some Ashkerai had survived, she knew, and it was no small thing to explain to a people who thought themselves rid of the darkness -- but for just a moment, she was content to lie with her family. Her hands found her belly, and she turned without opening her eyes, to kiss Mori.

She did not encourage him to wake, though neither did she keep him from doing so. Instead, the violet -- her own violet, untouched by that deep, rich purple she had not yet forgotten -- wrapped around the familiar blue with a feeling like their chapter was coming to a close. They still had children to bear, to raise. But they had served their purposes, their destinies. They had become and had been Kaloranis and the Maiden. They had saved their planet.

All that remained now was peace...and parenthood.

Rora smiled and opened her eyes and kissed Mori again, certain she had never in her life been so happy.

"I love you, I love you, I love you. You are mine, io'mora, and I love you."

 

[Kaisaan]

Mori knew he wasn't awake, but he was conscious somehow. His eyes were not open and his mouth did not speak, but he could see and he could talk and the black Aavan realized very quickly that he was in a dreamscape of some kind. It wasn't like his ones with Rora, wasn't built the same, with trees and the sounds of animals, the river and peace. It was bare, but bright and all around he could feel the presence of the White Power.

It was all around him, waiting for him to acknowledge it, somehow much more lenient, even friendly, happy than he had ever felt from it. But that wasn't even the right word. No, it was proud. Proud of him and Mori felt very young in that moment, a child accepting praise from an adult. It made him smile and he spoke into the great expanse of calm nothingness, not frightened by it. He had no reason to be, could sense that nothing here would hurt him. This was not like a Mind-Lock, not a limbo state. It was simply...there. No true color, no true substance, but there was no danger and Mori felt safe. He felt he knew why he was here, too, and felt partly saddened, but more relieved by the idea.

"Has peace begun? Did we win?" Had they won? Had what he wanted, what Rora wanted, had it worked?

The voice that answered back sounded pleased and Mori already had his answer, could already feel the excitement and relief bubbling up inside him. "You have served well, Moridryn'aKyno."

The black Aavan stilled, surprised by the use of his name, something Kaloranis had never graced him with and a smile spread throughout his body, not just his face and the White Power seemed to almost chuckle. "We will be leaving you now. There is no more need for us."

Mori had known as much, even as he wasn't sure how he knew and acceptance was in his voice, but curiosity as well. "Will you ever come back?" Would the power pass down to his children? Or would it remain dormant within them, passed down to their children and their children until it was needed again?

Kaloranis almost seemed to shake its head, amused, but mysterious at once and the black Aavan knew in that moment that he wasn't going to have his answers. It didn't frustrate him as much as he might have thought it would. "If there is need, the next Vessel will feel our presence." was the simple reply and the White Power seemed to touch Mori then, a gentle acknowledgement of all they'd gone through. "Farewell, Light of the Aavan."

And like that, the presence, the power Mori had felt for so long, a power that almost felt part of him now even as it never had been....was gone and he was waking completely this time, his body knowing it was time to come back to the real world...and besides, he could feel the most wonderful sensation on his lips, a voice whispering through his head as if from a distance, tempting him back to it. He went more than willingly.

The black Aavan blinked hazy violet eyes open and then blinked again, ridding himself of the sleep in his gaze as he immediately searched for the owner of the voice he'd heard vaguely in his head. Even as his eyes found Rora's green, the awareness of her mind within his own flooded over him and Mori smiled, relaxing as the blue wrapped around the violet, conscious and receptive once more, reaching out to his Cerebra even as his physcial fingers did the same, touching her face with the utmost care.

"Nmaera-Amaa. You are well?"

She didn't even need to answer for him to know her response and Mori let out a small sigh, resting his forehead to her own, feeling her mind weave with his, listening to the sound of her breathing, her heartbeat, taking in her unique scent and his hands found her stomach, feeling the strange pulsing there even now, but also the hardness of his children beneath. It made his heart swell and his violet eyes opened again to look to his mate.

"They are safe now. Our children are safe. Our people are safe now."

The thought filled him with elation and Mori started to laugh even as he brought his lips to Rora's, pulling her into a searing kiss full of both passion and delight.

They'd done it! They'd truly done it!

--

Rask didn't wake slowly.

One moment the monitors keeping an eye on him showed he was asleep, restless, but unconscious, stable - and yet somehow not fine as he would not wake when stimulated and when his lids were lifted, his eyes were gold and slitted, unresponsive to light in the least, and his heart rate erratic - and the next moment alarms were blaring. He'd woken violently, but not uncoordinated. Oh, no, he didn't thrash or scream, didn't appear fearful in the least, but rather ANGRY and fierce.

The gold Aavan was still weak, all his tests said so. He'd suffered multiple contact with the Ashkerai and he'd suffered from some other trauma that the Healers and Whisperers could not figure out, but could detect in his brain signatures and in the physical evidence of his horribly damaged throat, a result of prolonged screaming. He shouldn't have even been able to get up, much less leap from the bed like he did and latch on to the wall with sharp talons from both hands and feet, a long tail whipping about in a frenzy behind him. He stayed latched there for a long moment, gold eyes searching the room before his fangs bared and a soundless snarl rumbled through his chest, more felt by the Aavan in the room than anything for they could not hear it.

They knew they might never hear anything from him again, the damage done extensive, but time would tell.

Right now, however, time was not on their side as the Healers ushered the Whisperers out, some Aavan staying to try and reason with the gold Aavan....only to very, very quickly realize that he'd gone feral. They retreated after that and shut the door, hearing Rask's body hit it a moment later, claws screeching against the metal.

Someone ran to find Siya because Siya would know where Yenna, Tac and Asesee were.

Some speculated that they should let Rask get to Lyra, wondering if that was what he wanted, but others argued that it was too great a risk. The Keeper was in a bad way herself and to put them together might not be the wisest course of action. Even the Aavan, who knew of the Bonds intimately, hesitated, not understanding what had driven the two apart on the battlefield in the first place, and knowing of the struggles the two had gone through. Some were even wondering if there was a possibility that Aavan and Cerebrae bonds could not work for some of the species. Mori and Rora's had, yes, but they were the Kaloranis and the Maiden. They were special. And the three other Bonds....well, they seemed less complicated than Lyra and Rask's.

No, they had no idea what to do here and so they sought help. They would even consult Rora and Mori if need be, but right now, they had to keep Rask confined....though, as they saw the door bending inward...everyone speculated that they wouldn't have a great deal of time to do that, either.

--

He wanted his Bonded.

His mind spun with pain that wouldn't leave, circling and circling, and he was unable to distinguish if it was remembered or present now. It didn't matter. The agony wouldn't leave, wouldn't abate no matter how he'd tried to escape it. He kept feeling her dying, but knew she couldn't be dead. He was alive, she wasn't dead.

He could feel the scarlet in the most distant sense of the word. It was there, just out of his reach, the thinnest, palest strands of gold, strands of red keeping them together, tight and strained.

Painful.

Rask felt like he was screaming, but no sound came from him. He was pleading, begging the scarlet to come back, but he couldn't find his voice. It couldn't hear him. He couldn't hear himself. His intelligent mind could find no solution, ran itself ragged and blistered and raw trying to end the pain, the distance, the emptiness, but it could not. So the primal side came forward, savage and beyond any kind of reason. It wanted what it wanted and didn't care how such was accomplished.

And the intelligent side of Rask didn't care anymore either. Somewhere in him, there was a voice, a logical, calm voice telling him that he would get through this, that it would be all right, that this could be fixed and the pain would end, but he was beyond listening to it. It hurt. Everything hurt. Everything had always hurt, hadn't it?

Yes.

Ever since he was a child.....but not in this life...in the other. He'd had another life, hadn't he? Or was that a dream, too?

Was this the dream? Was the scarlet so far away because it didn't really exist? No. No, Lyra was real. She had to be real, but it was so hard to know. She wasn't here. If she was real, she'd be here. He had to find her.

He had to find her. His Bonded. His mate. His Lyra. He had to find her.

It was the last conscious thought he had before the feral side took over, that desire the only thing it cared about as he slammed into the door again, claws rendering tears in the harsh metal as he snarled wordlessly to be let out.

He had to find her.

 

[DotCom]

Siya was with Lyra.

It was where the Prodigy spent the majority of her free time. Granted, there was not much of it. Perhaps she shouldn't have been surprised – war preparations had been a matter of simply uniting a people. Peace time, it seemed, was far more ambitious. And yet the sense of victory was pervasive, addicting, even for Siya. It was impossible not to feel jubilant. There had been time for nothing but rebuilding yet, and while there was a plan for a grand scale celebration – a holiday, she thought, to replace what had been the Auction (and it was nearing that time, though no one, at least not in Siya's hearing, had so much as mentioned the day that had started everything) -- it seemed clean-up efforts were first in everyone's mind. Still, small scale celebrations were seen every day, every minute. Matron were giving to help with young Cerebrae, as there would be no more births for the next cycle…save for Rora's. Labs and libraries were expanded to integrate new information, both on Aavan and Ashkerai, and the Shaman and Matriarch had been escorted to visit the Elder's, first from Mori's village. It was an exhausting, consuming effort, but Siya learned more every day, and moreover, she found peace time suited her.

But the same could not be said for everyone.

While Rora and Mori had yet to wake, their vital signs were stable and improving by the day, even Rora, who loomed, thought parties on both sides, ever closer to the birth of their children, Rask and Lyra were not so fortunate. Rask was purportedly stable, though he had not woken yet, and Aavan Healers were still reporting he was far from well.

And Lyra…there were days when Siya wanted to strangle her friend, or grab her by the shoulders, burns be damned, and shake some sense into her. The Lyra alone in that small decontamination was not the Lyra Siya knew. Granted, Lyra had been different ever since the Bond, and perhaps that was part of the problem. Yenna certainly seemed to think so. The Bond between Lyra and Rask was…different. Even Siya could see that much. But then, so was their relationship. It was volatile as it was passionate. The two argued as often as they laughed, preferred sparring to chatting, and were both stubborn enough to grate on anyone's nerves. And their Bond had been formed under duress. To hear Yenna explain it, Lyra had forced her way in, no regard for her mind, or Rask's. She'd simply torn into him, replacing the darkness that had taken root instead. And then she had panicked, pulled away just as quickly, and that had hurt them, too. She'd heard whispers of it being impossible, unlikely. She did not know whether a Bond had ever backfired or been undone. She wondered if it would be better here.

Lyra wasn't recovering. No one said anything, out of respect, or superstition, or maybe just fear, but Siya still knew it was true: Lyra was dying. The Healers all said, just like Rask, there was nothing wrong with her. Yenna swore up and down the Bond hadn't been broken, or Rask and the Keeper would have been dead already. But Lyra just...wasn't getting better. The burns were slow to heal. The fever never cooled. The nightmares came regularly, and no one could figure it out.

Except Siya. She didn't, couldn't pretend to understand the Bond. Even if she'd been an Aavan, in a Bond of her own, having studied them for years. Even if they made any sort of empirical sense to her, she knew Rask and Lyra would still baffle her. But she understood Lyra, or who the Keeper had become. Lyra had given up. Lyra wanted to die.

Most of the time, it made Siya angry. Who was this weak, emotional child of a Cerebra she'd used to know? The old Lyra wouldn't have even been angry. Bemused, perhaps. Annoyed, maybe. But she simply would have told this new Lyra to buck up and move on. Lyra was a soldier. People died daily. Even the missing count after the war was too high to be tallied yet. The old Lyra wouldn't have folded in on herself, given up on the world.

Was this madness? Was this the Bond? No. Siya suspected it was something else.

And so she couldn't be mad at Lyra. She wanted to be. She tried to be. But she couldn't. She understood.

So, she waited. And she bathed the Keeper's clammy brow in cool water, and tried to get her to eat, and tried to change the bandages, though most days, they had to sedate her for that. She sat, and waited, and tried not to resent Lyra for giving up.

And on the day Lyra finally began to stir -- the same day the others came to find her, because Rask was awake and out of his mind -- Siya leaned over her friend and asked her to try again.

And Lyra turned away, rolled onto her uninjured side, into the wall, and she waited to die.

--

Technically, Lyra had been 'awake' for days, floating in a haze of darkness and pain she knew wasn't normal, but didn't really care to fix. That alone was testament enough to her state of mind, for anyone who knew her.

Lyra Brightstar was a Keeper, one almost impossibly talented, one whose success was hard won and harder remembered. Fixing things was what she did, almost a compulsion. Wrongness of any sort made her feel deeply uneasy, a sense of unrest sweeping over her she could not control. This – this pain, this darkness, this bone-deep sense of longing – it wasn't right. It was wrong in every sense of the word and beyond…and yet she could not bring herself to fix it, or even care.

It wouldn't bring him back.

The little part of her mind left to thinking, that part that hadn't been consumed, dissolved by the blackness, the despair so strong it no longer felt like despair, that part knew this was death, or at least dying. That part could recall, quite clearly, the war. The better parts of it anyway – and how bad had it been for any parts to be 'better'? There had been loss and death, of course. Exhaustion. Fear. Pain. All of that she was used to. Then, just as the light had been cresting over the horizon, just as the call came for retreat, just as the Kaloranis and his Maiden made their move…things had fallen apart. Rask had fallen apart. And with his last breaths, he had asked for his help. And she…she had failed.

She remembered leaving him, remembered knowing it was wrong and doing it anyway. Stupid. She'd deserved death from that point. Rask hadn't, but she'd bought it for him, anyway. She'd gone after his sister, after Asesee. She had heard the gold Aavan's name since, one of so few things to penetrate this far, one of a few things to make it through into the nightmares, or perhaps it was only the taunting of the voices that remained.

From there, things got fuzzy. There had been pain unlike any she'd ever known. Cold. A cold so deep, it had not left her still. And the screams. She had left Rask, and yet she could still hear his screaming, the horrible, wretched, voiceless cries that seemed to ring on even as she felt his life fizzle to nothing. The voices had laughed then as Lyra lay there in the horrible knowledge that her Bonded was dead, his blood on her hands, his death slow and painful and alone.

She'd wanted to die then. For a time, she thought she had. The cold had seized in, even as the burning had started. Her screams had joined Rask's, and the blackness had fallen in on her. She was prepared to die, ready to die, deserving of death.

But she had failed that, too. And now she floated here in this void that was nothing but darkness and pain and cold. Well. Almost nothing. There was some knowledge. Bits and pieces that forced their way in, seeped into what was left of her conscious mind, stored themselves away automatically as tangible bits of date. Nothing more. Lyra was dying. Rask was dead. There was nothing left to care for in the world. But some part of still collected facts. The Keeper.

She knew the war was over, had been won. Mori and Rora were alive and resting. The others – Yenna, Siya, Asesee, Tac, Rogan – were busy rebuilding coordinating efforts with Cerebrae and Aavan alike. Yenna and Siya came to visit her often. She heard and recognized their voices, but she couldn't make sense of their words. She knew she'd been badly burned by the lightning trap she'd made, perhaps to be expected, since she'd been trying to kill herself. Siya had been furious, she remembered that, too, maybe the first time she'd ever seen Siya upset. But then she'd still been lost in the worst parts of the fever then. She might have been dreaming that.

The nightmares were constant, and always of Rask. Sometimes, she imagined she could hear his voice, feel the faint touch of his mind against hers. Those were the best dreams, painful as they were. She imagined their minds stretched taut as new flesh over an old wound. It hurt, but at least there was touch. At least he was still there.

The rest were not so kind. She spent hours and days trying to remember his voice, his face, his mind. Wishing she could go back and do things differently. She should have found Asesee more quickly. She should never have left him. She should never have hit him. She should never have Bonded with him in the first place. Always she heard him screaming. Sometimes, she woke up screaming herself. Someone – Siya, or Yenna, or a Whisperer – would sedate her, try and speak to her. She never spoke back. She couldn't. What was the point? What was there to say?

There were thick, itchy bandages wrapped around her torso and one arm. Sometimes, a cool liquid flooded her mouth or touched her brow. She would shy away if she could find the strength. She didn't want the cold. It only served to remind her of what she had lost.

Sometimes, she felt like crying. Sometimes, the pain, the cold, the loneliness were so bad, she thought she might. And then she remembered Rask was gone, and her death was coming, and slow as it was, she deserved it for betraying him. She waited for death. She prayed for death. And until then, she relished those dreams when she thought she could still feel him in her mind.

--

Rora might have sworn to hear him laugh was the greatest thing she had ever known. There was joy in the knowledge of her children, and an unimaginable relief in the knowledge that he was right -- she had not noticed, or cared that Kaloranis had left. The war was over. The peace, if not won, had been born, and a chapter, a dark, dark chapter had closed on their lives. Rora had long since given up on the Cerebrae dream, and yet she could not help but rejoice at the idea that she had finally served her true purpose in life.

But none of it compared to the joy in Mori's voice, the elation she could feel flowing through the unfettered strands of blue that ran between his mind and hers. She let her own mind leap forward, all the more ecstatic to feel his pleasure, and then she was laughing, too, kissing him back, her fingers in his hair, her arms around his neck, only a moment from pulling them into a dreamscape of their own --

When a door slammed open behind them.

Startled, and more than a little annoyed, Rora sat up, clutching a bedsheet to her chest. There were two Healers there, one Aavan, one Cerebrae, both red-faced apparently from having run from...somewhere. Rora didn't particularly care. A war had been won, and she planned to celebrate.

"Yes?" she said, raising an imperious eyebrow. "What is -- ?"

The ruckus that echoed to them down the hall gave them all the answer they needed. Or some of it. There was worry, panic, fear coming from the Healers and those beyond them, and it took only a moment to uncover the source of the problem.

She asked anyway, old habit.

"What? Who is it? Who -- ?"

"Apologies," blurted the Cerebra Healer. "Kaloranis. Maiden. It is...your brother," the Cerebra nodded at Mori. "He's just woken, and...he's..."

"Feral," interrupted the Aavan Healer. "He won't be reasoned with."

Rora glanced quickly at Mori, her hand finding his beneath the sheets to soothe and steady him.

"Where is Lyra? His Bonded?"

The look that went between the two Healers answered the rest of Rora's questions, and then she was hopping out of the bed, pulling Mori along beside her.

"Are you alright?" she asked quickly, searching his face. "It seems diplomacy isn't quite behind us yet."

 

[Kaisaan]

Mori felt the world drop out from under him at the very first wisps of emotion he felt from Rora's mind, the knowledge of her thoughts and he didn't need the Healer, the Whisperer to tell him what he now already knew. His mind snapped to an outward attention, seeking and almost instantly coming into contact with pain. It seared past him, not quite touching him, but making itself known, giving measurement to the intensity that wracked what could only be his eldest brother's mind.

It was almost enough to make Mori sick and if not for Rora's hand on his own, he would have been. She stabilized him, though, made his mind pull away from such an intimate, familial contact with Rask and focus instead on what could be done. The black Aavan was more than grateful for his mate's level head as she questioned exactly what he would have if he'd been thinking more clearly in that moment: Where was Lyra?

An answer wasn't given, wasn't needed and Mori followed Rora out of the bed swiftly, making sure she was steady with her large belly. He felt her gaze, but didn't look down, knowing that if he did, he'd falter. He'd never felt such pain from his brother, such rage and despair and it shook something within him, something he knew Rora felt. Rask....Rask had always been the strong one. He'd always known how to act, even if he made mistakes, had protected Mori since they were children, was fierce and brave. To feel the gold Aavan reduced to this, it twisted Mori's heart painfully, but though the blue sought comfort, balance with the violet, it was also steeling itself for what was to come.

"There won't be any diplomacy. Not this time, little rainbow." was the quiet reply and his mind sought to remind her own of the feral nature of his kin. Mori had been beyond reason in his own feral state and Rask, he was in PAIN, too. There would be no speaking with him.

They heard the slams to the door, the screeching metal before they'd even rounded the hallway and Mori stopped, turning to Rora and placing his hands on her face, cradling her cheeks gently as his violet eyes held her green, love and fierce protection in his gaze, but the blue threads twining reassuringly around the violet, seeking help, not to hinder.

"You will stay out here. No coming in, not for anything, Rora." It was an order of the most severe and yet loving kind. One of his hands moved to her stomach, holding his palm there gently, still feeling the pulsing within, wondering if Rask was even aware of it at this point. "You can not risk them or yourself, not now, but I will need your help. I need you to hold him until I tell you otherwise. Your Telekinesis can do it."

Mori had no doubt in her abilities and he smiled, the expression strained, but loving and full of faith in her all the same before his lips met Rora's own, pulling back much too soon. He would have to make up for that and their interruption later.

Right now, though, he had to find a way to help his brother.

--

The gold Aavan's deadly claws didn't hit the door again, his strike not landing at all as he suddenly found himself against the opposite wall, pressed there by an invisible force that had not been cruel or even abrupt, but had taken him from his goal nevertheless. It enraged Rask and he struggled against it, a wordless snarl working at his throat, causing the taste of iron - blood - to enter his mouth. He didn't even register it, thrashing and writhing against the restraints he could not see, only stilling for a moment as the door opened.

His mind only registered one thing in that moment as he looked at the figure coming into the room.

It wasn't Lyra.

The pain seemed to explode anew in Rask's head and the black Aavan winced, bringing his fingers to his own head, his body giving a shudder at the agony that had hit him the moment he tried to reach out to Rask. Mori didn't stop, though, trying again even as he approached his brother cautiously, looking the gold Aavan over for not just his strangely changed appearance but for injury, too. Besides his bleeding hands, though, Rask appeared to be uninjured. It was merely his mind that burned with the most intense fever, that raged with a primal pain that took Mori's breath away.

It reminded him of the torture he and Rora had endured and the memory nearly slammed into him with a vengeance, would have if not for Rora's hold on his mind, keeping him from slipping too completely into Rask's. He would be consumed in there, driven insane by the agony his brother was enduring.

For the life of him, though, Mori could not understand why such a thing was so, the origin of the pain. There seemed to be no source for it, no reason and the black Aavan felt a desperation come over him - what was wrong? What could he do? - as he moved a bit closer to the gold Aavan. "Rask? Rask, it's Mori. Brother, you must calm. We'll help you. We'll get Lyra. Rask, we'll get Lyra. She's what you want, right?"

He expected some kind of recognition for the Keeper's name, some kind of calming, something to tell him that his brother understood. He wanted the primal part of Rask's mind to recognize that it was going to find what it wanted, but the gold Aavan showed no such acknowledgement. No, he'd appeared to become more distraught and frantic...and it took Mori a long moment to realize what he was seeing, but he felt horror when he identified the emotion pouring off of Rask.

Terror.

The black Aavan noted what he'd not seen before in that moment; Rask was fighting Rora's hold on him with less rage and more desperation than anything else and tear-tracks had started to run down his face. It stuck Mori like a bolt in the chest and though he did not know why Rask was so scared, he knew he couldn't allow this any longer. He'd thought his fierce, volatile, stubborn brother would be angry by the restraints, would fight Rora's ability, but they could make sure he didn't hurt anyone until Lyra got here. Never, in a million years, would Mori had thought that Rask would be scared.

"Rora! Release him! And someone get Lyra, NOW! I don't care what state she's in!" Mori snapped the command, not upset with Rora and she'd know that, but deeply unbalanced and disturbed by what he was seeing.

And then he was switching into a defensive, primal state himself as Rask launched himself from the wall, claws extended.

--

Lyra.

Lyra. The black Aavan spoke of Lyra, but Rask didn't see her. Couldn't feel her. He tried calling the scarlet. He tried and it wouldn't answer. It wouldn't hear him, left him to the pain, left him alone.

Alone.

He was alone again. They'd left him on the cold table, shivering, shuddering in pain. Be brave. They'd told him that. To be brave, to be strong. He was alone, not allowed to reach out. Restrained in every way; physically by the straps that held him, mentally by the rules that bound him, the pain that came if he disobeyed and emotionally...emotionally because he refused to feel anything but the anger, the stubbornness, the determination that made him strong. Anything else hurt. They weren't strong.

He was supposed to be strong, but the metal was so cold and the pain too much, and the loneliness ate at his soul. The tears escaped and he started to thrash, to scream just to hear something, anything but the silence.

The restraints were gone. Rask didn't understand why they were gone - he'd not done the training the right way - but his feral mind didn't question it as his body immediately coiled, tense, sprang, his mind cycling through an idea rapidly, jumbled thoughts and memories giving him no ability to think more clearly.

He'd be strong and then maybe he could have Lyra back. If he fought, ignored the pain, was strong then they'd give him back Lyra. They'd taken her because he was weak. He'd been too weak, had needed too much from her, too much emotion, too much touch. He'd wanted what he wasn't supposed to have so they'd taken her. He'd learned nothing. They were punishing him.

But he'd make them happy again, he'd make them give Lyra back.

Rask's claws dug into flesh with nothing but a savage drive to get his Bonded back and Mori grit his teeth against giving a pained snarl, grabbing his brother and trying to subdue the gold Aavan without truly hurting him, cursing in every way and language he knew within his mind as he rapidly tried to figure out what to do.

If seeing Lyra did not stop this madness, Mori didn't know what would and that scared him because looking into the gold eyes of the Aavan before him, he knew this wasn't his brother....even as it was.

 

[DotCom]

"Get. Up."

It was...bizarre. The world had all but flipped upside down in a year's time -- the Auction was right around the corner, and instead of celebrating, the planet's people, Cerebrae and Aavan both, were cleaning up after a war they had fought and won together -- and Siya had barely blinked an eye.

But this, her oldest friend and a Keeper she'd met a few short months ago, having nearly switched positions...it unnerved her.

Rora and Lyra didn't seem to be having a great time of it, either.

The Empath had burst into the room just a few short minutes ago, after Siya had sent away the Healers alert by the sudden changes in Lyra's brain scans, in her temperature, in her movements. After two more Healers had come, panting, from Rask's room, arguing the whole time about whether it was time to move the Keeper in with the gold Aavan, or whether it would be too large a risk for them both. After Rora, who had been standing in open-mouthed horror at the door of Rask's room, watching in utter disbelief as he slowly tore himself -- and Mori -- to pieces.

Because it was awful, in every sense of the word. It was sad, it was painful, it was terrifying, and heartbreaking, and just unfair to have to watch the pair who had, in part, led them all to victory suffer like this. But it was also breathtaking. Even to watch, she had never known a pain so deep, so unique as the one Rask and Lyra shared. It might even have been beautiful, if only they knew they were sharing it.

And Rora didn't get it. The Bond had been so good for she and Mori, and Lyra and Rask were so much more alike. Perhaps that was it, then? Perhaps they truly weren't meant to Bond?

For the first time, she saw Rask -- what had been Rask -- attack his brother, and she didn't feel a protective, unseeing rage. She felt...stricken. Sadness. Terror. One hand came up to her mouth, and she was surprised to feel wetness on her face.

Mori couldn't want her to leave him? She could feel his pain as acutely as she felt Rask's, and her own. She'd actually started forward, started into the room, when Mori shouted that she go. Behind her, two other Keepers had already left to get Siya and Lyra. Rora found herself frozen, paralyzed in horror and awe.

This, she realized, was death in slow motion.

--

And now she stood there, beside Siya, who had been watching Lyra whimper and writhe on her cot with the same fathomless expression Rora herself had been wearing just moments before.

She didn't know how to fix this, she realized. Her friend was going to die. Not because Siya wasn't smart enough. They had the tools, the medicine, to heal her. It was only Lyra refused to recover. Her reason for living had been extinguished, and with it, her will. Her very soul. And that was nothing Siya could fix, not with all the intellect in the world.

It was Rora who stepped up in the end, who wiped the look of shocked fear off her face and stepped forward and grabbed the cold, wet cloth from Siya's hand, and dropped to her knees at Lyra's bedside.

"I said get up," Rora said again, and her voice remained steady, though Siya could see the Empath's shoulders shaking even from the other side of the room. "I know you can hear me, Lyra. I know you're listening."

Lyra said nothing, Rora's demands eliciting only a weak whimper from the back of her throat.

She didn't understand it, and as much as she was ready to have given up on learning, on knowledge, on understanding anything, she wanted, almost, at least, to understand this. Because it made no sense. She was dying. She was maybe already dead.

How could the pain be getting worse?

And it was getting worse. Very little made it down to the dull strands of consciousness still capable of thought, but that did. The pain was getting worse, gods above, somehow it was getting worse, and she couldn't just keep ignoring it.

Someone ran a cool cloth over her brow, dabbing at the beaded sweat there. Lyra cringed and tried to roll away, but a hand wrapped itself around her wrist.

"Rora!" Someone -- Siya? -- sounded horrified.

Rora just sounded angry.

"We have to snap her out of it, Siya," Rora said, voice hard. "They're going to die here, soon, if we don't do something. If she won't respond to nice...then..."

Lyra whimpered again, pulled away.

"Fine," Rora spat, and her voice was cold and hard, but her expression, even to Siya, was heartbreaking. The Empath was crying, visibly shaking, nauseated by what she was about to say. But there was nothing else for it. Lyra was dying, and Rask was spiraling out of control.

"Fine," she said again, her voice trembling just in the slightest. "You wanna die, Keeper? I can show you. I'll tell you."

There was a long moment of silence, and Rora was trying to figure out how to drag Lyra down the hall. Then, so quiet she nearly missed it --

"How?"

--

Rask's room wasn't far, but it still took them a long time to get Lyra to him. She could barely stand, but refused to be carried. Rogan had tried at Siya's request, but he'd only gotten as far as touching her burned side before Lyra cringed away. So, they toddled down the hall, the four of them, Rora almost but not quite impassive, turning on Lyra every time her knees started to buckle, every time she paused to lean against the wall to catch her breath.

"Get over it, Lyra. You wanna die? You want the screaming to stop? This is it. This is the only way."

And Lyra never asked where they were going. She never said anything, not to any of them, but Rora could feel the exhaustion and hatred and desolation pouring off the Keeper.

And then they were in the doorway, Rogan and Siya holding Lyra up, Rora poised carefully between -- though not directly between -- Rask and Lyra, ready to intervene if things started going south.

Lyra hadn't even registered Rask's presence yet, or if she had, she was convinced she was hallucinating, the shadows heightening their attack before they finally ended her life. She swayed, unsteady on her feet, eyes wide, face pale. She looked...terrified. Like she knew this was her last stitch of hope, and without it...everything was gone.

But there he was. And somehow seeing him was worse.

Had she done this? Had she made this of him.

She started to turn. Her knees buckled. She made it half way. Siya caught her, hauled her to her feet, and Rora's voice echoed in her head. Pushing. Ruthless. Cold.

Finish it.

Lyra whimpered, helpless. Finish? No. No, she wanted to die. Rora had promised death, an end to the pain. Not this. Not...

"Rask?"

 

[Kaisaan]

The smell of blood was strong in the room and Mori grimaced to himself to know that most of it was his. His brother's claws were just as deadly in this form as they were in his larger one and the black Aavan - in the back of his mind - had to wonder just HOW his brother was keeping his body like this. They weren't able to half-shift between one form or the other unless it was to briefly protect someone they loved. For Rask to be staying like this was astounding and alarming all at once.

And dangerous.

So very dangerous as Mori tried to keep his brother from killing him with nothing but hands and strength alone. He didn't have fangs, claws, the treacherous, whip-like tail that Rask used to a deadly, skilled advantage that the black Aavan could not fathom. He could feel his side, leg, arm and shoulder bleeding freely, the first three from claws and the last from a bite wound his brother had not hesitated to give him with a savageness that was frightening.

Mori could not reach Rask.

The gold Aavan's mind was blank, terrifyingly so. The only emotion that shone in his strange, fierce gold eyes was rage. That - and pain - was the only thing that Mori could identify from his brother mentally, too. It was as if he'd closed down completely, nothing but a primal, raw state left behind. He seemed to fight the black Aavan now for more than just access to the door, but some hidden agenda that Mori could not make out, but Rask seemed determined to accomplish.

It broke the black Aavan's heart to see his brother like this, not able to understand what was wrong for it seemed to go much deeper than the fragile bond between Rask and Lyra. Mori's heart bled just as much as his body did and he seemed to be getting nowhere with Rask, his words not reaching him, no actions stopping him. All Mori could do was try to keep the gold Aavan at bay, survive until Rora got back, bringing Lyra for he knew his mate would not fail him in that task.

He could only hope - nay, pray - that the Keeper's presence would snap his brother out of whatever demonic trance he'd fallen into.

--

He knew nothing, was nothing, felt nothing.

Nothing but the rage and the pain, the never ending pain that proved to him without ceasing that he'd not done as he was supposed to. He was failing to kill this threat, failing to be strong and it had cost him Lyra.

Lyra.

She was the only thing he wanted, the only face he begged to see. Wordlessly he screamed for her, unable to voice the speech, only the depth of his soul crying out....even as his mind started to doubt once more. Was she a test, too? Was he pleading for one who did not exist? Had she been real? Perhaps there was reason she did not answer him now, why he did not feel her soothing presence. Maybe she was nothing but a Program, a reward system and the pain was the punishment.

Yes. That made sense. Far more sense than anything else right now. She wasn't real, but if he wanted the comfort back, he had to follow his training.

Yes, that was right. That made sense. She wasn't real. She was just-

His own name floated into his head on a thin strand of scarlet and Rask stilled as if he'd been instantly frozen, his gold tail having caught Mori's ankle, about to drag the black Aavan down, his claws nearly poised to strike, but that one word had stopped all motion from the gold Aavan. Equally as gold eyes lifted slowly from their target to those in the doorway, but focusing on only one face amid all the others, not caring about the others, not even registering them, not even Siya at Lyra's side. He took in the Keeper's appearance like a starving person would food, a drowning man would air and slowly Rask moved, releasing Mori as if he didn't even exist anymore.

The gold Aavan took a stumbling step forward, nothing changing in his eyes, still fierce, his mind still blank, but his soul had stopped screaming. And Rask drew closer to Lyra, finally within touching distance and that's what he did, reaching out to touch Lyra, and then giving a gasping sob when his fingers found flesh. It was clear he shook uncontrollably with agony and now emotion as the blank state of his mind shattered, too many thoughts, too many emotions, too many things to process swamping him. Above all of them, though, was one word, one focus in his mind, whispered brokenly, but with such profound hope into the consciousness of his Bonded.

"Lyra."

The gold reached for her, the threads trembling violently, the pain not yet gone, his mind seeking relief, seeking safety, seeking HER, seeking to give and to receive. Seeking what was real, hoping until it pained him that what he sought would not be taken from him again, that it WAS real, that SHE was real.

And even as his mind sought contact, his bloody, clawed hands initiated it, finding Lyra's face and then his arms were pulling her close against him, needing to feel her, to KNOW she was there, solid and alive, real against him. Only when that had been confirmed did Rask's eyes drift back to green and he started to give in to the gut-wrenching sobs that overcame him.

 

[DotCom]

The Empath had lied.

She had promised relief, Lyra was certain. She could not remember much, could think even less, but the Empath -- what was her name? -- had promised relief, an end to the pain, an end to that horrible, boundless screaming that seemed to come from the very depths of her soul. And yet it had not come, and seemed to be growing louder, more strained, more painful, as if her soul was stretched taut inside her, pulled to the point of snapping, and oh, what relief that snapping would bring!

But it wasn't coming. There had been one glorious, awful moment in which she thought she had seen him, felt the depleted gold of his mind somewhere within hers, but then it was gone, another cold trick of the madness that remained. The fever tore through Lyra with a merciless rage, the burns on her side and arm leeched her strength, her ability to even breathe. She desired now, more than ever, to simply give up and beg for the death that was coming to her. Had not she endured enough punishment for killing her Bonded?

The Empath had promised death and lied. Lyra was weak and tired, but she knew she had it in her to fix everything, if only to end the pain. She would find her relief, or she would end her life. She had tried and failed before, but she was so much closer now.

First, though, she would take the Empath with her, and teach the wretched creature never to lie again.

--

Lyra stood in the doorway, her breath coming in reedy whimpers from between cracked lips. Looking at her, Rora felt her stomach twist. There was pain in this room, too much pain, almost more than she could bear. It was difficult -- much more than she might have guessed -- to see Lyra reduced to this crying, incoherent thing, and she had hoped just seeing Rask would snap her out of it, erase the fever, heal the burns, remove their turbulent past together. She had said his name, Rora was sure of it, and she'd thought it was enough...but Lyra's face hadn't changed. She hadn't so much as moved, except perhaps to curl more deeply into herself.

Only it wasn't working. Perhaps it was because Rask seemed to be in such a state of mindless pain himself. It had taken everything in her and more to remain where she was when she saw the blood running down Mori's chest and arms. Only his words to her before -- that she would not interfere, not risk their children -- kept her rooted to the spot, though she was shaking visibly, and kept stealing glances when she wasn't staring at Lyra, half angry, half terrified. It had only be the pain -- from Rask, from Lyra, from Mori, even from Siya and Rogan -- that had kept her from indulging in that anger in the first place.

And now Lyra was here, their last chance at happiness, even sanity, and...nothing was happening.

Then Rask moved. On instinct, Rora felt her ever muscle seize up so quickly, it hurt. Behind her, Siya gave a silent reminder to Rogan to move away, perhaps she alone remembering how Mori had been on the day of Rora's trial.

The moment Mori was free of his brother's grasp, Rora abandoned her post. There was something...strange happening in Lyra's mind, and while she could not stand the even the thought of losing her friends, she had come far too close to losing her mate to take chances. She went to him, calming his mind and his pain with her own, but her eyes were riveted to Lyra and Rask, and she was ready to run -- or to kill -- if Lyra followed through with the deadly intent coiling like a venomous snake in the ruins of her mind.

--

The first thing she noticed was that the screaming had stopped. She didn't know when or how, could not recall whether it had been sudden or abrupt. One moment she was hearing it, and the next she wasn't, and that relief was so great in and of itself, she nearly swooned. Siya remained stubbornly by her side, warning Rogan away with a glance as Lyra's head lolled on her shoulder, hair clinging to her face in rust-colored strands soaked in sweat.

This was it. This was the relief she had wanted, or nearly. The pain wasn't gone. The ache was still so fierce, it brought a whimper to her lips even as she sighed in relief. The fever was unrelenting, the pain from the burns even crueler, but the screaming had stopped, and with it came a flicker of hope that the pain would stop, too. Perhaps this punishment was nearing its end. Perhaps death was finally creeping closer, and she could see Rask again. The thought made her smile, and she reached out deliriously.

"I'm sorry," she whispered to no one. "I'm sorry I failed you. I'm sorry I hurt you. It's alright. I'm coming. I'm coming now, and I'll never let anyone hurt you again. I'm sorry."

She felt, distantly, Siya release her, and then knew she was dead. She could feel herself falling, and let it happen, only just aware when another pair of arms caught her, stopping her fall, and on instinct, she buried herself within them.

"Lyra."

The Keeper sighed. With her eyes closed, she could almost pretend it was Rask holding her, whispering her name as he finally beckoned her towards death. She had not doubt she did not deserve to spend eternity with him -- perhaps that was why she still hurt so -- but, oh, to hear her name, to practically see that familiar warm gold...

Wait.

Gold?

Gold?

There had been no gold before, not even in the cruelest of her dreams, not in the deepest darkness, not in the furthest clutches of the fever and delirium. She knew, because she had so willingly asked for madness if only to grant her a glimpse of the gold, even only in her mind. She had searched and stretched and waiting and pleaded, and had found nothing but darkness.

Was this madness? Death? Or something...else?

She didn't care. She could not help herself, would not have been able to hold herself back, even if she had desired to.

With all the strength and direction it had left, the withered, faded strands of scarlet through themselves at the gold, knowing it was make believe and not caring in the slightest. If this was death, then Lyra accepted it fully. And indeed, the pain seemed to abate as the scarlet wove around the gold, leaping, diving, coiling like a dog too long away from its master. It twined around the gold strands, a silent promise never again to leave, to hurt, to betray, and Lyra let it, tears in her eyes at the sudden relief of pain.

There was still the fever, still the burn, but it was nothing compared to what the pain from before had been, and in fact it made her heady, giggly. She felt her legs going out from beneath her again and knew she did not have the strength to fight it anymore. It might have bothered her, if anything could bother her in that moment.

But the gold had returned. She had finally died, finally gone on to join this shadow of Rask. She burrowed deep into the imagined embrace, her fingers tracing his back, and smile touching cracked lips.

"Say it again," she begged dreamily. "Please? It's...so nice when you say it..."

 

[Kaisaan]

The relief was not complete - pain still lingered - but it was nearly instant and Rask shuddered violently, repeatedly as the agony released him, replaced by the wonderful scarlet. No matter how faded, how thin, how weak or desperate, it was his scarlet, his Lyra and he would know her even if he did not know his own name. He would understand her touch, her essence and the gold responded to it now, twining about, caressing the once vivid red, strengthening where the gold touched the darker-hued threads and drawing comfort - such intense comfort - from their contact.

But Rask, his mind still chaotic and his thoughts anything but stable, became aware of a problem within the scarlet faster than he could have come up with even a half-haphazard guess about his own condition.

There was something wrong with Lyra's mind. The scarlet was reaching for the gold, but it was with a dream-like purpose, not determined and focused like Lyra usually was. It sobered him, brought a determination, a goal to his own frayed, raw, primal mind and his sobs stilled almost as fast as they'd come, alarmingly so. He should not have been able to turn his emotions on and off that way, but Rask didn't seem to notice the abnormality with such a thing.

No, his focus was on Lyra and what she needed. And on her touch, his body shivering gently under her fingers.

It became more clear to him when she spoke, though, about what was wrong and the gold Aavan slowly lowered them both to the ground, pulling Lyra into his lap, one arm wrapped around her, the other reaching up, his clawed fingers brushing back through her hair, registering the unnatural heat there as his tail curled around and sought her waist, wrapping around securely, not about to let the Keeper go for anything at all and woe to the person who tried to make him relinquish her.

"Lyra. Lyra. My Lyra." he murmured to her, each word accompanied by a fierce, possessive, but gentle wave of gold over the scarlet. The savage fury that had driven him only moments before was still there, but it was pushed back, giving way not to intelligent thought per say, but to a more tender instinct.

Rask knew, though, that words wouldn't be enough. His Lyra, his mate, his Bonded thought him gone. He could sense it, feel it, hear it in her voice and knew it within the scarlet. She raged with fever and pain, and she did not believe. But he could not allow that. She needed him. He needed her more than he could ever express in words or even a billion years worth of time. Rask could not let her believe him dead, could not let her fade, could not let her go.

So he didn't, his clawed fingers tilting her face up and his mouth founding her own, his lips melding to her cracked ones even as his mind pulled hers closer, pouring every emotion he could not sort through into her. Desperate hope, need, strength, longing, sadness, anger, despair, terror, affection, courage and love. Love and such a fierce desire for her to return to him that Rask wept with it, his tears silent and slow, touching Lyra's skin just as much as they did his.

"Please. Please, Lyra..."

--

Mori was felt just as much profound relief as his brother to feel and see Rora at his side. None of his wounds were life-threatening, but he'd lost a good deal of blood and felt weak, dizzy with it, and to be injured so soon after the war, his body just healed from the Ashkerai, it wasn't the best of circumstances. Hardly dangerous, though. Not anymore.

One more moment with Rask, though....and Mori knew he would have been choking on his own blood.

The thought was a chilling one and he subtly tried to keep it from Rora, hoping she was too distracted to notice, his own eyes never leaving his brother, the Keeper with him. They all waited with baited breath, knowing there were other things they should do - seeing to Rask's bleeding hands, Lyra's burns and Mori's wounds being on the list - but unable to tear themselves away, needing to know that these two would be all right.

There seemed to be no way to know, however, and Mori's hope started to sink as it seemed nothing was changing, happening...until his brother kissed Lyra.

The black Aavan knew he shouldn't have been startled, but he was. It hadn't been confirmed what Bond Lyra and Rask held, but there could be no doubt now and Mori suddenly started to understand why things had gotten this bad between the two. His heart wept for them even as his blood still wept from his wounds, making his vision grow a bit dark on the edges. But oh, how relieving it was to now start to understand something!

"They're mates. They didn't...didn't accept that....um...that part of the Bond. It's why they've been...been having....t-trouble...." It was getting harder to think, form sentences and Mori felt his body starting to sway even where he knelt, vision flickering in and out of focus.

He wanted - oh, how he wanted - to see the outcome between Rask and Lyra, but the black Aavan was unsure his body was going to permit it.

 

[DotCom]

She was floating.

Lyra was floating, but this was not the floating she had been subjected to in the week since the war. This was not the vast, confused wandering of a feverish soul. She was not stumbling through the darkness, not adrift on a sea of sickness and despair. If there was pain here, it was far away. Delirium held any real confusion at bay. She was not quite sure where she was, or what was happening. She thought maybe her mind had shattered, and she was okay with it. This was death. She had finally gone to join Rask, and oh, what relief it was.

The pain had all but stopped, but even that paled in comparison to his voice. His voice was there inside her head, and in that moment, she was honestly and truly at a loss for how she had ever lived, how she had ever done anything without him in her life. That phantom gold curled around her and inside of her filling her with a lightness so vast, so warm, she felt fit to burst.

Floating? No. This was flying.

She felt his arms come around her, and the pain and the burns and the fever were forgotten. She coiled her arms over his, touching him as much as she could manage, loathe to ever again have to leave him for anything, requests be damned! She would be selfish. She owed herself that much, she thought.

Her name was a prayer, a song, a masterpiece on his lips, moreso than it ever should have been, or could have been without him, and she nearly wept to hear it. She might have, if she weren't so afraid her tears would drown out his voice. She could feel the gold coiled around the scarlet, around her mind, pulsing each time he said her name again, and she wondered if she had ever been so happy before.

And then he kissed her.

Lyra went stiff at once, all weakness having been brusquely shoved aside in the face of these new myriad feelings. Confusion first, confusion and mild terror -- another trick? Could it be so evil, so simple? How could something so cruel feel so wonderful? Or perhaps she didn't care. As the kiss went on, she stayed frozen, knowing she didn't. This might be the beginning of some horrid thing, but she didn't care. She would enjoy the moment, and so she stayed, too afraid to move, too afraid to break the spell.

If this was a trick, though, it was a good one. More feelings flooded the gold, and the scarlet by extension, until Lyra was sure what was hers, and what was false, and didn't care. Desperation and hope and fear and pain and panic. Joy. Devotion. Love.

Love.

Lyra had always prided herself on her self-control, but in that moment, all her experience amount to nothing as she turned, craning her neck to better meet her Bonded's lips. Joke or not, she could not help but give in to the kiss, remembering their first on the battlefield, just before she had lost him. And it had not been this way last time. Not nearly so bright, so buoyant, so desperate.

But she had loved him then, too.

She knew it almost at once, and the thought startled and terrified her before she decided she didn't care. She leaned into the kiss, pouring her everything into it, and only then realized Rask was kissing back.

He was alive.

She heard his words only vaguely. She wanted to say something to reassure him -- there was such pain, such longing in that gold! -- but she could think of nothing. She couldn't speak, and were her lips not on his, she thought she might have lapsed into breathless panic again, fear, guilt, shame, desperate hope. He was alive! He was alive!

"I thought -- I felt -- I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I didn't know...if I had known, I wouldn't have...I didn't...Rask, Raskiis, my orai los. It's alright. I'm here. I'm here, and I...I love you."

The word sparked a fear in her like she had never known, and she didn't care. It was true. It might kill her, might end everything she had ever known, but never again would she let it tear them apart.

She reached back to run a trembling hand through golden hair, the scarlet twining ever closer around the gold, as though it could not bear even the thought of another separation. As though even this was not enough contact to sate the desire there.

"I love you, I love you, I love you."

--

Rora felt heady with the feelings and emotions in the room. Pain and illness, love and fear, her exhaustion and Mori's failing consciousness. She, too, kept her eyes trained on the quiet pair in the center of the room, having understood, though in not so many words, as soon as Mori had what had occurred. Even Siya and Rogan, who had no chance of grasping what had occurred seemed sated, if concerned by the display.

They had all watched, frozen in fear, Rora torn between her friends and her mate, waiting for Lyra to change.

The change was not immediately evident, and yet they all felt it when Lyra kissed back. She froze first, stiffening, her dreamy expression quickly morphing to one of fear that had Siya rushing forward -- only to be stopped by Rogan a moment later when the tension evaporated and Lyra sank into the kiss. The tension went out of her body, and a visible weight fell from her shoulders. Rogan gave a heady sigh of relief and touched Siya's shoulder. Rora sagged in much the same way, a hand coming up to her mouth in equal parts relief and happiness...before quickly turning all her attention to Mori. Siya, for her part, watched, uncertain, as Lyra and Rask went about oblivious to their various wounds, quietly wondering if they would ever understand how close to death they had come. For the moment, she suspected she could have thrown the pair into a live volcano, and they'd have only noticed if they were accidentally separated in the process.

And then the moment passed, and the Siya that had waited for quiet hours at Lyra's bedside was gone. Things needed to be done, and quickly. Rora looked close to an episode of either anger or panic -- neither would be good for Mori or the twins...or Lyra and Rask, for that matter. Mori himself was swaying dangerously where he stood.

Lyra and Rask seemed pleasantly oblivious, though Siya would feel better to see them treated. Then again, she suspected they had all they'd need from each other in that moment.

She turned to Rogan abruptly, and the Pater quickly recognized the moment was over.

"You should leave this room," she instructed quietly. "I'm...not entirely sure what's happened, but there are entirely too many fragile states to bother with here. Go...find the others. Tac, Asesee. Yenna will know what to do."

Rogan looked uncertain. "And you?"

"I'm going to deal with Rora. I...think it's best we leave Lyra and Rask alone for a moment."

 

[Kaisaan]

Mori had managed to stay awake long enough to see the change in Lyra, in his brother, to feel it vaguely on the edge of his mind, and it brought a smile even as his body collapsed. Rora had managed to get him to his feet, but now he could not even think to walk anywhere, too much blood lost, making him weak, pale, dizzy and now darkness swamping over him. He knew he wouldn't die, but damn he was going to give Rask a piece of his mind when his brother was stable!

The thought made him smile a bit more even as he struggled to focus, finally stopping his attempt to look around and simply devoting his attention to his mate's mind, feeling the panic and anger growing there. The blue lapped over the violet reassuringly, strong despite the state of his body.

"Rora, c-calm. I'm fine. I...won't be...be leaving you, I....p-promise. The Healers....Wh-Whisperers will help....me. Calm, little r-rainbow, for the...the twins. Calm. I'll be f-fine..."

He struggled to speak as his mind grew dark, but Mori truly wasn't alarmed by such a thing. He'd be fine. He knew he would. Rask hadn't wounded him badly enough to kill, not with those who could mend him close at hand.

He'd be fine and that was the last impression he left Rora with before he succumbed to the state of black that sucked him under.

--

Rask felt her come back to him.

It was a change in her mind he could not put into words, but somehow he felt he'd gotten HIS Lyra back and the gold Aavan's tears came faster, with relief and joy, so overwhelming he didn't know whether to sob or laugh with it. So he did neither, letting the scarlet become more vibrant, alive again, around him and listening to his Bonded's words flow over him, providing a stability he desperately needed above anything else, even if Rask could not express that clearly.

He didn't feel like he could say or express anything accurately without the cloud of chaotic confusion - not if he thought about it. So he didn't think. His mind was not closed to Lyra, not restricted, he wasn't hiding from her. Rask was simply refusing to think, refusing to let his intelligent side take over....because he could feel that was where the residual pain was radiating from and he wasn't ready to face it. He didn't WANT to face it. He was terrified to face it. He refused to face it. Not now. Not yet. So he let the various degrees and intricacies of instinct within him take over for the time being.

The gold Aavan wanted to reassure Lyra, to tell her she'd done nothing wrong, that everything would be fine now, but that would have required far more thought than he was willing to admit into his conscious mind. Somehow, if she was paying enough attention, she'd sense such a thing anyway, the comfort the gold offered, the security and lack of anger. She'd hear it in the growl that rumbled through her mind and in the way he leaned into her caress, the gesture wild, feral and completely devoted to her.

I know.

It wasn't speech, barely a whisper of a thought, but it Rask risked it anyway and he finally pulled his mouth from Lyra's, needing air, his green eyes finding her tangerine, holding her gaze as if she was the only person in the world that mattered to him. The gold threads of his mind wrapped around the scarlet, clinging, sheltering and no longer willing to leave, not even if Lyra wanted them to. He could not handle another separation anymore than she could and while Rask's grip on his mate loosened as the pain of her wounds registered to him, his mind held hers even tighter.

"Lyra."

His fierce, beautiful, stubborn, determined, tender Lyra. He was completely petrified that she'd be taken from him again, his mind still confused, unable to accurately remember what had happened, which memory was correct.

All he knew for sure was that Lyra was here, in his arms, in his mind and he didn't want to lose that. Never again. She was here, real and that's all he cared about. He didn't need to move, didn't need a healer's care, he didn't need anything but Lyra and would only permit outside forces if it would benefit her, if she wanted them.

--

Tac and Yenna had immediately gone to Mori and Rora upon being summoned by Rogan, heading to the room he was stationed in. It was not favoritism, not lack of caring about Rask and Lyra that made them choose the black Aavan and the Empath first, merely duty and the knowledge that if they were to lose either one of them - and by extension the twins when it came to Rora - it could be disastrous. It was common sense that led them down the hall, but it was something else entirely that led Asesee in the other direction after a brief pause in which she lost sight of her red brother and his green mate.

Lyra had come to save her instead of staying with Rask.

That thought, even when she'd been less than lucid, had stayed with Asesee long after the effects of the Ashkerai had gone, but she hadn't been permitted to see either her brother or the Keeper as the Healers and Whisperers had wanted to keep her under their supervision for a while yet. Perhaps being family to the black Aavan meant they wanted to risk nothing happening to her, and the female gold had accepted it, but now she felt a strong desire to see both Lyra and Rask, to thank the former and find out about the condition of the latter.

So it was that she moved to the room the two had been left in, entering cautiously and then pausing in the doorway, leaning against the door for the moment as she merely watched what proceeded inside the room, waiting patiently for the right time to announce her presence.

She was in no hurry.

 

[DotCom]

Rora kept herself calm out of duty, out of love for her mate, and concern for her children, but it was through no small effort. The world around them faded to a vast white buzz, all other people and sounds, even Rask and Lyra, forgotten. Rora poured herself into calming her mate, even as he sagged to the floor, lowered down by her Telekinetics, since the twins in her belly made her entire body frustratingly unwieldy. There was another bright flash of anger, and she focused on ignoring, pushing it away, knowing she couldn't erase it completely. It was enough to keep her still, centered, though she found herself crouched over Mori's prone body nonetheless, still offering condolences to his unconscious mind.

When Siya touched her shoulder, Rora pinned her to the wall before remembering she was supposed to be calm and withdrawing...mostly.

"What?" she demanded, her entire body trembling with the effort of staying in control of her anger and fear. Mori had told her he would be alright, and she knew it to be true...but old habits died hard, and the twins were days from birth, and Rora was too sore and too tired to care whether her temper affected anyone. Much.

Siya, too, had returned to herself, though not without struggle. Her eyes, the color of eggplant, were calm as she spoke to Rora, hands raised in supplication.

"You need to calm down," she said gently. "It's too near the delivery date for another of your episodes, Rora. Mori will be fine."

Already, the Healers, two Aavan and a Cerebra, were moving in behind her to stop the bleeding and heal the wounds the way Rora had healed Tac's. Rora turned without thinking to throw them aside, heal her mate herself, but Siya stopped her with a hand wrapped round her wrist.

"Don't," she went on, still speaking in a perfect monotone. "He wouldn't want you to. You know that. We don't know what could trigger, and you want Mori there, don't you?"

Rora glared at the Prodigy for a long moment, mind whirring, eyes blazing, before some of the tension dropped from her shoulders.

"I just want them out," she grumbled, but some light came back to her eyes, pale over a sheen of worried tears as she looked back at Mori, the healers carrying him from the room.

Siya smirked. "I can only imagine. On the positive side, any longer and you won't have to walk anymore. We can just roll you from -- "

Rora put Siya on her back -- careful not to hurt...beyond a bruise or two -- without so much as a blink of an eye before stalking from the room, determined to be there when Mori woke, if only to complain some more about their friends.

Siya chuckled as she stood and followed. Perhaps and enraged Rora was only slightly better than one half mad with worry, but it was still preferable to another accident. She had begun to worry the war had claimed all her friends, even as they all lived.

Tac and Yenna were already with Mori when she reached his room. She said nothing to either of them as she bypassed the Healers to climb onto the bed with him, scowling when one offered to help, before putting his head in her lap to sit and wait as patiently as she could.

--

Rora couldn't move. She felt it deep down inside her somewhere, thick and heavy and choking as mud, a fear that had rooted deep and poisonous. She couldn't move. There were too many what-ifs. She had come too close to losing Rask too many times, and each time -- every single one -- had been her fault. She was not above recovery, but, gods, what if she did it wrong? What if something happened and she lost him again? They wouldn't survive another break, she knew it. Already people -- even their friends -- were doubting them. And while Lyra would have taken it as a challenge before...there was just too much to lose this time.

The fear threatened to swallow her whole, even sitting there in Rask's lap, one hand curled in his, the other still cupping the back of his head. She could feel it writhing inside of her, a large, untamed beast.

She shut the door.

There was time enough for panic later. Now? Now, she had come too close. She knew now what the screaming had been, Rask's suffering for her own stupidity and weakness. But she was back now, and she wouldn't let him suffer anymore.

Lyra was a Keeper she had done far more under far worse circumstances. In an instant, it was if the fever had broken, the burns healed, the pain dulled. All of it overwhelmed by a sense of duty rich as blood.

She let herself float another minute in the glorious knowledge that he was alive, and then she turned, shoving away the pain of the burns, the exhaustion of the fever, the guilt, the fear, the anger. Rask was hurting, had been for over a week. And she loved him.

Carefully, stoically -- because if she allowed herself to feel, she would not be able to remove herself from his grip -- she edged out of his grasp to kneel in front of him. Her mind kept up the steady, desperate reassurances of her nearness, the scarlet wrapping around, over and under and between the gold strands as casually as they could while still looking for damage it could heal, for pain it could soothe. There was so much pain there, so much fear. The strands went about their work methodically, touching everywhere they could, solid silent promises that they would do, would be better this time.

Lyra worked in the same way, her hands balled in her lap to keep them from shaking as she looked over Rask. He was...different, she noticed. There was a tail, claws. It was as if he'd started to change and stopped halfway. She'd never seen another Aavan do it before, and could only vaguely recall when he'd done it before, just prior to the battle, when she'd...hit him.

Her heart tried to leap into her throat. Fear tightened like a vice around her lungs for just a moment before she forced herself to breathe.

"Are you alright?" she said, noting the blood on his hands, the pain she could feel from his chest and throat. "You're hurting. You're hurt. It's alright, orai los, I will take care of you. I will take care of everything. I'm here now, alright? I'm here." She sent along waves of soothing scarlet as best she knew how. It was not second nature to her, not yet, but she would learn if it meant never resting another moment again. She would master this Bond, and she would let no one take her from her Bonded.

Her eyes, her mind combed the rest of his, wounds and hurts and fears, and offered respite where they could. The Healers appeared to have all fled with Rora and Mori, and for one wild moment, Lyra felt a desperate anger -- fear -- claw at her insides. She held herself still, understanding this was not the time to lose control, not when Rask was so vulnerable. But she would have words with the Healers later, and they would suffer for their negligence. The word 'suffer' seemed to crackle and burn in her thoughts, and she let that terrified rage give her the strength to face Rask with nothing but a patient, apologetic love in her eyes.

She reached forward gently to take his hands in hers, and, without a thought, began to gently, lovingly wipe the blood away with the sleeve of her unburned arm, her eyes hard as stone as she did. But her mind kept up its presence in his, soothing the fear she felt there with a constant stream of promises.

"It's alright," she said, running tender threads over the tense gold, ignoring the terror it threatened to spark in her. Not here. Not now. Rask needed her. She would not fall apart. "It's alright. I'm here. I won't leave. Anyone who tries to separate, I'll kill them. I swear it to you, my orai los, no one will ever separate us again. Not even me."

 

[Kaisaan]

--

Asesee had made it her personal duty to take Lyra and Rask away. No amount of discussion, unease or protesting would sway her and not even Mori - who was by now awake and nearly moving around freely - could convince her otherwise. She would tell no one - and no one could guess - what had suddenly made her so fiercely protective of the pair and Asesee herself found it hard to explain even in her own head, but ever since that day in the healing room, ever since she'd watched the two together, she'd known a tugging feeling, like she was connected to the two somehow and she'd forgone her plan to thank them, instead leaving to start making arrangements to get them out of the city.

Few agreed with her plan, thinking that RAsk and Lyra were too fragile to travel, to unstable to be left on their own - or even with one person watching over them - but Asesee had gotten her way. She might have been gentle-spoken, compassionate and even tender to those she came in contact with, but there was a hardness in her that slavery had created, a spirit that burned fiercely even if she rarely let it show.

And the gold Aavan had found a reason to show it, utilize it and those who opposed her found that they'd underestimated the gold Aavan and were now paying for it as they lost their battle.

As Asesee wanted, Rask and Lyra were now being released from the Healer and Whisperer's care and into hers. She intended to take them from the city, only a day or two away, but when she planned to bring them back, the gold Aavan would not say. Her mind was made up on the matter and she'd nearly torn into Tac when he'd tried to overrule her. Her brother, being the wise Aavan that he was, and filled with a male's instincts, had backed down almost immediately in the face of her wrath, but it had been more surprise than anything else that had swept across his face and into his mind.

Yenna had watched the two and had finally given her consent to the plan as well, perhaps realizing that though Asesee had been mainly in the background until now, the gold Aavan would not demand what she was, nor lash out, unless she truly believed in what she was trying to do. And for her to believe such, there had to be a good reason for it. Asesee was anything but a dreamer, more clear-headed than most Aavan who'd been raised from a young age in captivity and Yenna decided they would trust her.

Getting Lyra released from the Keepers for a time wasn't hard at all as she was in no state to work anyway and Mori, while reluctant to let not one but two of his siblings leave the city, had not had the heart to argue with his elder sibling. Asesee had promised she'd take care of Rask and Lyra both and since no one else seemed to know what to do with the two, they all finally accepted that maybe, by some unspoken miracle, Asesee did.

--

Rask had not left - refused to leave - Lyra's side in four days. No one had had tried to make him and everyone had been extremely cautious around the two when treating their wounds, speaking to them, checking vitals or bringing food. Other than that, though, they were left alone to each other. In that time, both the gold Aavan and the Keeper slept a great deal, curled up together, their bodies finally healing and their minds melding more easily in an unconscious state than they ever could in a conscious one right now. They woke just a bit more connected, feeling just a bit less desperate.

But they'd not truly spoken. They'd not tried to figure each other out, to truly start to heal the other. It was enough right now to be healing outwardly, to be together, to understand that when they woke each time, the other person was still there. It was an acclimation process and it was good for them.

But the time was drawing nearer when they'd have to do more if the Bond was going to become healthy and not fall into the same trap it had before, again and again. It would soon be time for them to face their fears, each other's fears and come to some understanding about them. It was soon time for more healing. And especially for talking.

Rask had done none. Not one word had passed his lips in the four days he'd been more aware, more lucid and to Lyra, in his mind, he'd managed her name, brief one or two words to answer questions, and to tell her he loved her, to whisper it to her right before they would fall asleep. He'd said nothing out loud though, would not allow his mind to come out of the feral state it was still in - and therefore his body as well, keeping the claws, fangs and tail almost as if they were permanent - and if anyone tried to coax him to do so, he fought it, usually riling Lyra up as well so that those who wanted to help in this way learned very quickly that their efforts were wasted and indeed dangerous to their own health.

Asesee, however, seemed not to care about that as she came into the room, confident and factual, but not harsh, not mean as she pulled the covers away from the two and spoke firmly. "Come on, up you get. We're leaving the city for a while. You both need it and I have approval for it. Come on, up. Don't make me drag you. Rask, you know I can do it."

She was turning away even as she spoke, gathering up some of their things, packing them and green eyes blinked in confusion, surprise, but not anger as Rask looked from his sister - was she his sister? - to his mate, questioning.

But Asesee was the first person he'd not felt the desire to tear into for disrupting anything between him and Lyra. In fact, he felt almost...comforted further by his sister's presence in a way that Tac and Mori's visits had not elicited. He didn't completely understand it, but felt no threat....still, his Bonded's opinion meant more to him than his own.

--

Mori gave a small sigh to the beginning of the grumpy expression on Rora's face, his fingers brushing back her hair and his lips finding her forehead as a means to display affection....and hide his smile, though, it was very likely she heard it in his voice. "Nmaera-Amaa, you know you must stay."

He knew she was getting tired of that word. Stay. But stay she must, in the bed where the Healers and Whisperers had put her yesterday after her first contraction. The process had not lasted long, perhaps two, three hours before settling again, but it was a warning that her body was ready to be rid of the life within it, to deliver it into the world that would sustain it far better than her womb could. And no one wanted to risk any further complications than just giving birth to not one, but TWO hybrids would bring on its own.

Mori knew Rora hated to be confined and waiting, though and he sympathized, but at this point he also agreed with those in the medical profession. And seeing as he was the only one who could control Rora's power - especially when she was cranky - he was essentially assigned to bed-rest, too, confined to this room with her.

At least he could relate to the restless feeling.

Violet eyes looked down into green, filled with love, pride and yet teasing as well. "You don't want to be giving birth on the city wall or in the courtyard now, do you? They could come at any time." Oh, he knew she knew that, but lately it was the only thing they could talk about - the babies. It was natural and mostly enjoyed, and was a far better topic than Lyra and Rask for neither was sure if sending them with Asesee was wise and Mori especially was worried for both their states and the changes he sensed in his older brother.

Still....it was out of their control now - if it had ever been theirs to control at all - and Rora and Mori both had something far different and just as important to focus on.

The birth of their twins.

 

[DotCom]

The last thing Lyra did before exhaustion finally claimed her was to push everything -- everything -- away. She would never know how she did it, when so many parts of the Bond were still so foreign to her. She could not begin to guess how she had known that it was so vital to hide those things that loomed like monsters in her head -- tar-black guilt, fiery red fear -- but she did. With everything that remained of her infallible strength, with the last bits, perhaps, of her sanity, she gathered up the fear and the guilt and locked it deep down far, far away, so that Rask would never know it had existed, so that even she could forget its presence for a few days.

After that, she was quiet.

Her fever had broken on the second day of their time together, allowing Lyra to fall into a slumber that was almost perilously deep. She woke only when Rask was roused, and then only slightly, oblivious to the people around them unless she sensed a threat -- even then, only when Rask did. When they changed the bandages on her burn, and the pain sank slowly into deeper levels of consciousness, she would not look to the Healers, but to Rask, heart racing. She felt for him with her mind first, and then her body, and when she found him there, whole, unbroken, alive, she eased again.

Once or twice she woke to his panic, his fear and concern, and leapt instantly from unconsciousness to anger. Even semi-conscious, she had nearly broken a Healer's arm without evening knowing their crime, sensing only that Rask was agitated, so then so was she.

Aside from that, she floated in a state of semi-lucidity, her mind flush up against Rask's, but unable or unwilling to do anything. She would ask whenever she woke whether he was alright. Wait tensely for an answer, then drift off again once his breathing had evened.

When Asesee entered, she'd not even been aware until she felt Rask moving around her. Even then, she sluggishly reached out to him -- mind, body -- asked, without opening her eyes or her mouth, whether he was alright...and panicked when she did not get an answer.

She opened her eyes then for only the second time in four days, suddenly aware of a new presence in the room, and one who had caused Rask to act differently.

She turned to see Asesee, and sat up, head spinning, but still carefully, professionally crouched in front of Rask. She watched the other gold Aavan move around the room almost casually and just continued to stare. The last time she had seen Asesee, she had been dying. They both had. She didn't know whether to feel fear, or anger, or blame, or guilt.

There was...nothing.

"Don't touch him," Lyra said hoarsely, though there was no fire in her voice. She didn't turn to face Rask, unwilling to put her back to anyone, even someone Rask trusted, instead slowly coiling around his mind again. She could feel his question, and without words, she let him know she didn't care whether they were on the surface of the sun or the bottom of the sea, as long as he was there with her.

--

Rora gave an exasperated sigh and collapsed backwards onto the pile of almost mockingly soft pillows behind her.

Ridiculous.
She wanted to glare up at Mori, but she could hardly see him around the mound that was her belly, and the realization did nothing to improve her sour mood.

"I'm bored," she complained petulantly. She knew she was being childish, just as she knew there was no real time or room for her antics. Refugees were still pouring in. The city was still being rebuilt. Hell, her friends were still being rebuilt. No one, not even Mori or Rora herself, had been able to get in to see Lyra and Rask since their reunion a few days ago. Granted, they spent most of their time sleeping, which she supposed was better than nothing. The Healers said Lyra's fever had finally broken two days ago, and Rask seemed stable...though he still sported a tail and fangs.

But Rora couldn't help but whine. A portion of that was relief. It seemed things were finally returning to normal -- aside from her imminent delivery date -- and she was glad the war was over. A greater portion was exhaustion, frustration. She was now nearly four months pregnant, and despite her pleas that she be allowed to go about the grounds with Mori, visit her friends, and return to some level of normalcy, they both knew there wasn't much she could actually do. Even the act of walking, if it could still be called as such, left her tired and irritable. She hadn't slept through the night in some time. She was plagued with cramps and erratic hot flashes, and her temper had become so volatile, none of the Healers dared enter her room unless Mori was there. She knew she was being irrational, and they knew the mood swings came from the pregnancy, so she was careful to apologize afterward...but one could only take so many things hurled at walls, followed by sheepish, but frustrated, "Oops...sorry"s before prudence won out.

"Everyone in the city knows I'm due," she went on, managing to get her elbows beneath her to prop herself up, instantly switching from 'petulant' to 'charming', though she knew there was little chance Mori would let her out either way. Still. They'd all feel better if she tried.

"You'll stay with me, and if they come, we'll race back here. Everyone is on high alert, anyway, and I haven't been outside in days."

That last part was a lie, and they both knew it. They'd been out on the plains yesterday -- against Mori's better judgment, though Rora refused to admit he'd been right -- when the contractions had started. To his credit, he'd gotten her back to the delivery room in what must have been record time, though she was still almost breathless by the time they'd gotten her on the bed. The first trill of fear had been more acute this time, but it faded just as quickly as she realized the threat of war was gone, and while the threat of complications still loomed poisonously in the back of all their minds, Rora was certain this danger, at least, was more in their control.

With the war over, Healers, Whisperers, Matron, Prodigies, and Aavan midwives, all hand selected by Siya and Yenna, had come together to form a super team of hybrid birth. They could do nothing, of course, until such a time as the twins actually came, but Siya was confident they had planned for every possible situation, and Rora felt a little better knowing she would not be made to deal with any problems on her own.

And Mori already had a strong hand on her powers, for which she was grateful. She had nearly snapped the bed she sat on yesterday during the worst of the contractions, and that had been without even a hint of anger or fear. She'd been assured -- over and over and over again -- her children were in the best hands possible, and she was almost inclined to believe them. Almost.

Still. She didn't like for Mori to be too far away. As far as she knew, Rask's seal had been broken. There was no longer any guarantee the children would survive the birth, and Rora knew if they didn't, she wouldn't, either.

She quickly swept the thought away. Despite her recent incarceration, her last days with Mori had been among the happiest she could recall. She rolled over to her side to see him better and reached out a hand to play with his fingers. It was nice to seem him moving around now. She would wait for as long as it took for Rask and Lyra to recover. And then she would have words with her mate's golden brother...and by extension, Lyra, she knew. It was all for the best. She wasn't sure fighting either of them now would be fair. The last stage of pregnancy had given her powers an unexpected boost.

With a small, self-satisfied smile, she drew Mori's hand to her lips and kissed it gently before smiling up at him.

"Do you know yet?" she asked, almost shyly. "What you want to name them?" This was an idea she had not yet shared with her mate, had in fact kept carefully hidden. But the babies were due very, very soon, and she wasn't sure how much longer she'd be able to hide it.

 

[Kaisaan]

Asesee snorted at the threat, knowing it was anything but hollow, but not caring as she moved forward and brought her face within inches of Lyra's, a cool and steady confidence in her actions, in her words that was not easily explained, even to Asesee herself. But she was truly and honestly not afraid to challenge either her brother or his mate.

Because somehow, crazy as it sounded even to her - and she'd struggled with it for days - she knew they wouldn't hurt her. They had not hesitated to harm anyone else, even Mori and Tac, but Asesee knew like she'd not known anything for years with such certainty, that they weren't allowed to harm her. It wasn't logical, didn't have any basis that she could figure out, but Asesee knew it anyway and so she used that knowledge. She would help her brother and Lyra with that knowledge.

"I'm not going to touch either of you unless you give me trouble. Now get up. I'm not leaving you both here to waste away. Up-up!"

She smiled a bit, nothing cruel, smug or even teasing in the expression, merely confident and warm before she moved away again and started gathering up their stuff.

And Rask watched her with an acute gaze, trying to puzzle something out in his mind, but at the same time not allowing what his intelligent mind knew to shatter the feral state he'd fallen into. In the end, he had to give up the idea, let it pull away as he was unwilling to grasp it and instead the gold Aavan reacted on an instinct that flared up strong within him, letting it move his body as it would as he rose from the bed. He found his feet and then picked Lyra up, cradling her close as his green eyes watched the female Aavan closely, his gaze meeting her deep orange one when she finally looked up and quirked a brow.

"Well, come on, Ezonin." she coaxed, moving toward the door and Rask hesitated for only a moment, his tail lashing with faint indecision, before he followed the female Aavan, feeling compelled to do so as she led them down the halls and to the outside world beyond. That knowledge tugged at his mind again, but Rask pushed it away, not ready to face it yet and instead he took another cue from Asesee as she shifted up into her large form, doing the same.

It caused a rush of life to flow through him and Rask shivered with the sensation of rippling power that came over his body, keeping a gentle hold on Lyra with his tail, placing her on his back securely. He didn't know where they were going, but he took off after Asesee when she grabbed the net holding their supplies and launched herself in the air.

The feeling of flight calmed the male Aavan almost instantly and the gold of his mind settled a bit, not so frantic to figure out what was going on and rather accepting it slowly as the city got further and further away from them. It almost seemed a pressure eased off Rask as they flew and he breathed easier, his mind lulling into a state of relaxation that in turn fed into the scarlet that stayed so close, soothing the blood-red strands, caressing them gently and surely, giving a sense of safety and well-being.

They were in the skies and the day was clear and beautiful. There was no threat here.

--

Mori barely resisted the urge to snort at her attempts to get him to change his mind, merely giving his mate a look, raised brows and a smirk playing about his lips. Did she really think it would be that easy? The thought amused him as he knew Rora actually held no such hope of her charm working, but the fact that she tried anyway reminded him all over again - as if he needed it - just why and how much he loved her. Still, he didn't answer, merely grinning when her fingers came to find his own. He'd taken a seat beside the bed and now let her trace over his skin, amuse herself as he watched her face, memorizing every expression, falling in love with her all over again, every minute, every second.

A thrill of warmth, pure and bright, jolted from his hand to his heart at her kiss and Mori's violet eyes softened, more tender than amused now as his free hand lifted to brush her hair back once more and he tilted his head curiously to her question until she clarified and understanding came along with another smile and a thoughtful look.

According to Aavan customs, a child was not named until they were born, but if Mori was honest with himself, he'd been thinking about it anyway and now he bit his lip just a little before answering.

"I have been thinking about it, but I have not yet decided definitively on anything."

His eyes narrowed shrewdly, though, at feeling that small whisper of a thought in his mate's mind, though, something he'd been coming to be more aware of the closer the due date got and the black Aavan leaned forward, bringing his forehead to Rora's, a growl of amusement in his throat. "Though, I suspect you have a more concrete idea of what you'd like." he teased lightly, the blue coaxing the violet to reveal its secret to him.

 

[DotCom]

Lyra knew, even only vaguely, there was something wrong when Asesee's direct defiance -- defiance? -- didn't bring out the Keeper right away. Perhaps it was only that she was too tired, too groggy, still recovering from a four-day almost coma...but Lyra didn't think so. For some reason, she could only keep replaying that nightmare moment before she had left Rask on the battlefield. There was a haze around the memory, thick, impenetrable, choking as a cloud of smoke. But she could still hear Rask screaming. Somehow, she knew she'd never be rid of that.

You must protect Asesee...if something happens to her, I'll die.

Lyra was still trying to decode the moment when Rask made up his mind, sweeping her up in his arms, and she was loathe to put any more pressure on him than was necessary, but she was still starved for contact, for affection, and so she didn't argue.

And as the three of them took to the skies, the tension began to ebb out of the gold, and the scarlet by extension, as if she was relaxing almost against her will. She still did not trust this instance -- there was something changed about Asesee,just as there was about Rask. But she knew the female Aavan would not hurt her mate, whatever she was to him. And it was enough for now.

Lyra exhaled, feeling the breeze tear at long, dank strands of rust-colored hair, the air up here fresher than either she or Rask had breathed in days. She could feel what the flight did for him, and it made her happy to know he was happy. Slowly, cautiously, the strands of scarlet began to unwind their almost savage, possessive hold on the gold strands, easing into a state of careful relaxation for the first time since the war. They dared not venture too far from the gold -- they had long since learned their lesson on that front -- but they allowed it room to move, to breathe, and Lyra tried to do the same herself.

After a moment, she turned to watch the city, and the plains fading behind them. Both were alight with the strong midday sun, the shadows that had nearly killed her nowhere in sight. Lyra blinked once, then again, then shuddered with relief. She did not know where Asesee was taking them, and wasn't sure she had it in herself to trust the gold Aavan yet. But she was innumerably grateful to be out of the city that had hung like a tangible weight over her head for almost two weeks now.

--

"I...well, 'concrete' is maybe a bit strong..." Rora said, chewing her lip. It seemed so rare now she got to see her mate in such high spirits. She knew his brother and been on his mind for days now, and that he was worried about Lyra, Rask, and Asesee leaving the city so soon after the war. She was glad to offer whatever comfort and security she could, however brief it might last, and recently, talk of their children had been precisely the thing to do it.

The last thing she wanted to do was upset him, or somehow color the conversation to make all those that fallowed less ebullient.

Still. The thought had been eating away at her for longer even than she realized. If Mori said no, she would understand, would put the issue to rest. But she could not know until she tried.

"I know it's customary for Aavan to wait until birth to name the child, and I am more than willing to do that, love, I am. Do you know I can feel them within me? More than just their bodies, more than when they kick, it's...I can feel their emotions. They're faint, of course, and...well, the sorts of things newborns would think about, just...food and space and us, you and I. They absolutely adore each other, but I haven't really gotten much on their personalities." She broke off, frowned, laughed, as the twins kicked together, as if on cue. "Well, except they'll be a handful, I'm sure.

"But as to names, I...just wanted you...well, maybe you could think about -- and you can say no -- but perhaps naming...one of them after my sister. After...after Risa."

 

[Kaisaan]

Her description of the twins had his heart fluttering with complete devotion to the small lives within, a longing to see his little girls searing through him, but Mori remained quiet, letting his mate speak for he sensed that if he interrupted she might change the subject, lose her nerve to say what she had to say.

Mori's smile faded to an expression of amused curiosity, though, his head tilted as he listened to Rora, tried to figure out what she was so very nervous about. He didn't sense it was something dangerous or even bad, she just wasn't sure how he'd react and it made him wonder. He let her say it in her own time, though, and when she finally did, the smile disappeared completely, as did the happy light in his violet eyes as he closed them.

Immediate, savage, harsh rejection was the first thing the blue, his mind, answered with and the severity of it startled even the black Aavan so that he clamped down on the emotional outburst, his entire being seeming to still as he watched that writhing, violent part of himself. No. That...that was not how he wanted to be. He understood where the reaction stemmed from, the memories it originated from, but Mori knew he didn't want that bitterness, that anger to remain so rooted in him that even the mention of Risa's name could set him off like that. He'd not realized just how little he'd actually accepted what had happened to him at the CloudDottir's hands, how traumatized he still was about it.

This reaction had shown him, though, and for a long few minutes of utter silence, the black Aavan tried to move past the rejection to something deeper, some kind of understanding as to why his mate would want this. Because he DID want to know. She'd been angry, scared, hurt by Risa's very memory for some time now, just as he'd been, so when and how and why her change of heart had come about had him interested, but he had to get past himself to see it.

Finally, though, Mori did and it was calmer, more logical blue that gently weaved about the violet in apology, ready to listen, to understand if it could.

Mori didn't ask Rora to explain, didn't ask her to do anything, he merely delved down into her mind, into her memories...into ones he'd never wanted to see. The ones with Risa in them, before he'd known her, before all this had been set into motion. Memories that were purely Rora's, purely her own perspective and experiences. He viewed what she knew of Risa, but in the end, still didn't feel like he understood, but rather than move away in frustration or ask, the black Aavan continued to think, to draw parallels in an attempt to figure out just what was driving his mate.

He WANTED to understand before he said no for he felt this was important to her, so important that it had been on her mind for a while, but she'd been afraid of his reaction to it.

It was a sad truth that she'd had reason to be wary.

So Mori searched, the blue restless with thought, and finally...it came to him in one word, one name: Rask.

That he'd draw a parallel between his adored elder brother and his terrifying, deranged captor was something Mori didn't immediately understand, but it slowly unfolded before him that Rask...had done things just as bad as Risa. Worse. He had always been difficult to reason with, making mistakes out of anger, had been nearly impossible and frustrating to talk to often enough, and recently he'd nearly killed Tac. He'd nearly killed Mori himself. And yet...the black Aavan knew that if Rask were to be taken from him...he'd want to honor him somehow, despite his mistakes.

Rask was his brother. Nothing would change that, nor the love he felt for his elder sibling.

And Rora felt the same for her sister, despite Risa's crimes.

It clicked now and Mori felt the anger drain away as he calmed, acceptance flowing through him as his violet eyes finally opened and he gave Rora a tired sort of smile, leaning forward to kiss her forehead. His voice was soft. "If that is your desire, little rainbow, then we will honor your sister, her life and her commitment to her people."

Not her faults. They would let her legacy live on in a new generation, a second chance.

--

Asesee had them land soon, not yet at their destination, but knowing that Rask was not yet ready to fly so far and for so long. She set the supplies down and arched her great back, stretching with a yawn, wings flaring before they folded neatly against her back and she looked down the male Aavan and the Keeper, watching as Rask laid down in the sun, his gold scales dulled and lacking in luster, in good health. Asesee knew that would change soon enough, but it saddened her to see the two in such a state, Lyra's skin, her hair equally as bad as her mate's.

She knew this was the first step in getting the two back to themselves again, though, and laid down, content to wait and watch for now to see what they'd do.

The female gold knew her task was far from over. She didn't know why she knew, how she knew or what she was sensing, but somehow it was clear to her that in the end, she would help these two with their bond. She had to. Asesee didn't know how she was going to do it, if it was even possible, but she knew she'd be trying soon enough.

Whether Lyra or Rask liked it or not.

--

The sun soaked into his body as Rask curled himself in the patch of light, his great body breathing deeply, not asleep, but nearly there, half-dozing in a state of rare contentment. It was a false contentment if he even so much as shifted within his own mind toward everything he was holding back behind the wall he'd constructed, but right now he didn't care.

Rask could feel Lyra upon his back, safe with him, her slight weight nothing to his strength, but her presence so very strong in his mind, her touch felt with every nerve in his body. He was so very hyper-aware of her that everything else paled in comparison and Rask was constantly alert for any distress on Lyra's part, for any change in the scarlet.

But there was none and he'd been fine with that for the last few days.

Now, though, the gold was becoming more aware of the fact that he wasn't merely looking for change within the red, he was HOPING for it, WANTING it, and very soon he knew that want would become NEED.

The gold Aavan also know, however, that if Lyra started to change, he would have to as well...and that scared him. He shied from that thought, from that knowledge that whispered to him from the other side of the wall...and yet it was becoming harder to ignore as the contact from Lyra's body, from the scarlet strands within his mind - so fewer than he knew existed within her - was not enough anymore. They were both starting to feel far more desperate again and the gold Aavan instinctively could feel the vicious cycle looming over them once more.

And THAT terrified him far more than facing whatever was behind the wall in his mind.

So it was that his head lifted without much thought and green eyes looked back to the small figure on his back, curving and coming around to nuzzle her head with his nose, breathing gently upon the Keeper.

"Lyra." Even as he spoke her name, the gold was stirring within her mind, a bit stronger now for being out here, away from the city, and trying to convey the message he himself didn't entirely understand yet.

They couldn't remain this way.

 

[DotCom]

Rora knew from the moment she spoke Risa's name what Mori's reaction would be, and instantly hated herself for it, though she was careful to show none of this one her face. She watched, impassive, sympathetic, as Mori battled against his own pain and fear, determined not to allow her own unsteady emotions get the best of her. She felt guilty for having sprung it on him, disappointed at having guessed his reaction, angry for either of them having reacted at all. But she let it all pass. That was Risa. Even her memory was nothing but fire and passion. And she understood her mate's reaction, she really, truly did. It was part of the reason she wanted to name one of the girls after her sister.

Rora and Risa had never once gotten along. They were far too different -- and far too alike -- for that. Where Rora was withdrawn, quiet in her independence, Risa was assertive, bold. A born leader. Where Rora's sensitivity was expressed via her empathy, Risa used hers in her manipulation -- what had once been called charm, before the Dreamer had changed so. And both Cerebrae were fiercely protective of their own. Risa was proud and haughty, yes, but she had been strong and beautiful and passionate, too. In the end, those things had risen up and gotten the best of her, in the same way Rora's powers so often did, before she'd found Mori.

Rora saw sorry it had taken her so long to see the similarities between Risa and herself. She might have helped her sister...instead of murdering her. And while she didn't regret what she had done -- not if it had saved Mori's life -- she understood now, in part, why she had done it. It was something she'd never shared with anyone, not even Mori. She was ready to share it now, she he ask. He never did, and she was grateful for it. But she uncovered it in her mind, anyway, allowing that last greasy pearl of truth to rise to the surface of her mind.

She had been jealous of Risa.

It was not the power, not the beauty, not her strength, or years, or friends, no. Rora had all that and more now, and new she could live happily without it, so long as she had her mate.

And that's what it had been, even from the beginning. Risa had been the first one to reach out to Mori, and Rora suspected she hated her sister for it. Enough to kill? She didn't know. But Rora had allowed everything she saw in Risa to overwhelm her that day, and Risa was dead because of it. Perhaps her sister was not a good person, but she had been a person. And for that, Rora was sorry.

She kept waiting for Mori to ask her to explain herself. She would have done so gladly, if only to try and soothe the hurt she could feel in him. She did so now as his mind puzzled out the mystery, the violet strands approaching cautiously, to lend comfort and insight where they could.

And when he finally turned to her and spoke, to gentle, so understanding, it was everything she had not to burst into tears. She maneuvered herself into a kneeling and through her arms around Mori's neck, elated, and crying, and frustrated that she was crying.

She pulled back and made a sound that was equal parts chuckle and irritated grunt.

"Sorry," she apologized wetly, though she gazed at him with nothing but the highest admiration in her eyes. "I...everything makes me want to cry now. Thank you...for...for understanding. I know what she...how..." Rora took a breath and shook her head. "I don't want her name to have that power over us anymore. It...what happened, what she did to you...it was an ugly thing. I don't want to look at our children one day and think 'ugly'. I want to move on. I want to make something...something new."

She sat back and ran shaky hands through her hair and made a little laughing sound again, feeling like a foolish little girl. She was a little embarrassed how much thought she'd put into it already.

"I...I was thinking...Risa's name means 'rise', or 'risen', usually used like...get up, or start over. 'Taira' is the word in the Old Tongue meaning...it's like a nondescript block of time. Like...era, or...or generation. I...I was thinking maybe...her name could be 'Tairisa', like...the beginning of a new day, or...you know, something like that? Kind of like...re-risen. Or...or a new...a new Risa?"

Rora bit down hard on her lip, feeling her face go bright red as she looked shyly up at her mate once more. Her hands fidgeted in her lap.

"Um...what...how would you name her in...in your language?"

--

She felt the fear, the tense panic, the absolute, desperate need to be there, to be everything, begin to close around her when she felt Rask's strength begin to fail.

At once, she saw back over the plains, shadows whipping around her, sky and earth littered with the bodies of the dead. And it wasn't fear she felt, or not fear or pain or death or loss. It was that same constricting panic, the helplessness she felt whenever she felt Rask begin to hurt, because somehow, it always signaled another departure, another brick in the wall of that thing that so hurt their Bond, if it could even be called as much. She felt her heart begin to pound faster and did nothing but close her eyes and smooth her hands gently over her scales, reminding herself he was there, he was alive, and that a little exhaustion was not going to take him from her.

This was part of the problem, she knew, this crippling fear that filled her, that made her angry and paranoid and distant. The filled her with the compulsion to be better, instead of just a desire. It broke her heart, too, though she didn't want to think about that. She didn't want to think about any of it, but neither could she deny that was why Asesee had brought them out here. They could no longer simply run from the issue, or it really would kill them. Perhaps not right away...but hadn't she just experienced a slow death of her own?

Rask was right. There were so many terrifying things they had to reveal to each other, but the worst of it was that another death was imminent if they didn't.

Strangely enough, his name was still a balm to her, cooling, soothing, precious as fresh water in a desert. She let the single word run through her mind, allowing it to calm her panic as best it could, to clear her mind to the point where they could at least communicate.

Without thinking, she leaned into his touch, and when he pulled away, she opened her eyes and put a hand on his muzzle. His scales were warm beneath her fingers, and while the thought of breaking into this panic terrified her, she couldn't deny that one thing that was still circling her mind above all of this.

"I know," she said slowly. "I know. I love you, and I know."

She exhaled slowly, and looked around them, her eyes finally landing on Asesee, wondering what exactly it was the other Aavan planned to do. Wondering if she could learn to trust her.

She looked back to Rask, tangerine eyes delving deep into his green, and offered a wry smile.

"I don't suppose you have a training course I could take on this whole thing, do you?"

 

[Kaisaan]

Mori allowed the comfort of the violet, never having purposefully wanted to draw away from it and the blue coiled with the threads from its mate in understanding and acceptance, with no anger or resentment for what she'd sprung on him. If anything, he felt shameful that he'd reacted in such a way at all and now he soothed the truth Rora had given him until both their minds were calm again even as he listened to her words, smiling just a little at the way she stuttered around.

He hadn't heard his Cerebra do that in a long time and he found it endearing all over again.

The black Aavan did not mind the tears, knowing where they stemmed from and he said nothing about them, merely brushing away the wetness from his mate's blush-stricken face tenderly, not drawing too much attention to the fact as he answered her, thinking carefully on the meaning she'd given and the words in his own tongue to match.

Risen. Risen...yes, he could use that. That was part of Risa's name. Important. Era. Era...Era...Era....no. No, his kind didn't have word for that. Generation? Eh, more like 'Cycle', but not the same thing. New, though...he could use New. New Day. No, no, that wasn't right. Aavan measured in TIMES of the day. New Morning? Better.

So 'Cycle of a New Morning' or even 'Cycle that has Risen'...though, Mori suspected that was not what Rora wanted their child's name to mean. But if Risa meant 'Rise', Risen' or 'New', even 'New Morning'...and Taira meant 'Era' or 'Generation' or even just an amount of time, he didn't see what else the name COULD mean in his language.

"Well, Maevi means 'Cycle' which is as close as my kind come to your 'Generation' and Nerris means 'New' or 'Morning' in my tongue, so...Mae'Vineri. The word 'Risen' is Denera so I suppose Maev'Nera would work, too."

Mori grimaced at the names, not much liking the sound of them, nor the cold, factual meaning and he shook his head before Rora could even make to answer his words, looking back down at her as he'd been staring off into space to think. "I don't think she should be named exclusively in my language. It is your sister's name you want, not just the meaning and your 'Taira' has better translation than my 'Maevi' does. I would keep Tairisa or perhaps...a combination of our two languages? Maybe something added to her name, not simply changed?"

--

Her touch reassured and Rask growled softly, a sound that was felt beneath his scales, but was given no voice in his throat as he watched his mate, his green eyes never leaving her, but closing briefly as her words entered his mind, such simple and yet profound words that made the gold threads quiver in reaction, both easing their tension and coiling more protectively around the scarlet at once. They never failed to calm even as they excited and Rask couldn't explain the reaction, why it sank so deeply into him, his entire being soaking it up as if he were a desert starving for rain.

He'd been loved before, he had a family, so why did Lyra's simple words affect him so deeply?

The gold Aavan's gaze came back to the tangerine ones that held him enthralled in their depths and the feral edge to his green softened just a little at the Keeper's words even as his mind hesitated to answer, wanting to desperately and yet afraid of doing so, of letting that amount of intelligence past the shield he'd placed up between this calm pocket of warmth with Lyra and the rest of his mind.

But he had to speak to her. He had to. Rask KNEW that he must start to do SOMETHING or they'd be lost to each other again and that threatened to tear into him deeper than any claws ever could. So he let speech back, enough awareness to think the words and with it came a trickle of pain that the gold shrank away from, but could not escape as it was within the threads themselves, buried in the center of each one.

The pain was manageable, though, even as it was a shocking wake-up and Rask took a large breath, great lungs expanding before he released it again past Lyra's head, his hot exhale only gently stirring her rust-hued hair. The feral light in his expression died a bit more as his eyes came to find Lyra's again and Rask smiled back just a little, the expression looking rather fierce in this form, but the emotion felt behind it clear to her mind.

"No, I don't. I wish there was one, though."

Oh, but there was.

Rask knew it the moment the words were passing through her mind and he stilled as a flash of knowledge exploded behind his eyes - of cold metal and fevered dreams, of crying, screaming, begging, of hope so intense it made him fly and despair so acute he'd felt like he'd never live, of knowing he couldn't trust his own mind - and his own voice seemed to look at him with pity, if a voice could have any expression at all.

Remember?

Yes. Yes, he remembered, but he didn't want to!

Rask whimpered, the sound lost to the real world, but echoing inside his mind, inside Lyra's by extension and the gold shied away violently from the memory as the gold Aavan shook, the pain in his head having spiked before going back to a steady, subtle pulse, underlining every thought and every emotion now that the wall he'd erected had cracked of his own choice and actions. He wanted to re-erect it, to push everything away again and simply curl back into the scarlet, but there was danger in that, too, and the gold Aavan felt both the childlike need to find a place of safety and the very adult need to protect his Bonded who resided in his mind, subject to all the horrors there just as he was.

He just didn't know which reaction to choose and so he trembled, torn, and it wasn't until he felt a large body press to his that Rask snapped back to the real world, even just partway, his head swinging around with a soundless snarl to find Asesee. His reaction died almost immediately as something screeched through his head NOT to harm her and the male gold looked to the female with a lost expression even as the threads in his mind delved back into the scarlet there and his green eyes moved from Asesee to Lyra while as his sister spoke.

Was she his sister?

"It's not going to be easy, for either of you." Asesee looked gently from her brother to the Keeper, voice soft. "But you CAN do it and if you'll allow, I will help you. Just take it one emotion, one memory, one pain, one word at a time. As long as you are making progress, trying and learning from each other without reservation, then the Bond will be fine. It's going to be all right."

 

[DotCom]

Rora smiled up at her mate, delighted at the thoughts going through his head, even if she wasn't particularly fond of his first suggestions, either. It made her almost childishly excited to be having their twins all over again -- which, this late in the pregnancy was more boon than burden.

When he at last spoke, her eyes clouded with deep concentration, then brightened at the new suggestions, and she beamed up at him.

"Of course," she said quickly. "They will have two names, both of them. I...wouldn't know how to choose, I think that should be like you say -- wait until they are born, even the Cerebrae wouldn't fault that. But to share them between us...it is only appropriate. They are neither Cerebrae, nor Aavan after all."

Rora paused to chew on her lip some more, still toying with Mori's hands as she gave the idea further consideration. "If her given name is Tairisa -- in my language -- then her surname...well, traditionally, both girls would take the name of the birth cycle they were born into. But...as there are none...I don't know. I believe Siya has said this year will be called that of the Rising Darkness, but I won't have my children named after our enemy." Her face darkened with something like anger for just a moment, before another thought brightened her features. "But...the thing, what we did, you and I, before the Ashkerai were defeated. The lightning...the storm...you saved us with it, you know?"

She chewed her lip again, exhaled forcefully, pushing dark hair behind her ear.

"Tairisa Stormborn," she said suddenly, then again, shyly once more. "Tairisa Stormborn in my language. But when she is among your people...what do we add? To make her...different from my sister? She cannot simply be known among your people as the one related to the one who tried to kill you."

--

The memories he was falling into came clear and sharp and treacherous as glass into her mind, and Lyra felt herself go rigid all over again as pain began to lance through Rask's mind. She knew better than to lose herself in that fear, that rage...but she could not make sense of the images he was seeing and sharing, and she could not promise they didn't mean he would be taken from her again.

She suddenly felt naked, bare, weak without a weapon, and while a trained Keeper could easily enough disarm an Aavan in their smaller form, Lyra was not sure that another Aavan was the danger here.

Even so, when she felt Rask go stiff and looked down to see Asesee coiled next to him, her mind went blank, fiery with a possessive jealousy, and it was only Rask's thoughts, strangely stoic as they were, that reminded her it was Asesee who had brought them here. Even that was not enough for a moment -- perhaps she had brought them outside of the city on purpose? -- but she forced herself to listen to the female Aavan's assurances, even if it was not with an open-minded trust just yet.

But...trust. Wasn't that the word of the hour?

As Asesee spoke, Lyra let her eyes trace Rask's form. She, like Lyra, could no longer understand how her people had ever caged these creatures. Granted, she had been one of the many, just following orders, and it disgusted her now to think she had never seen any harm in it. Even the thought of Rask in a cage, of another Cerebra touching him made her want to tear something -- someone -- to pieces.

That part was so easy, that righteous anger, that fiery need to protect at any length, even while the thought of exposing herself to him loomed too large to grasp. Why was it easier to want, to need to kill for him? Asesee had said it would be alright...but did she find it so difficult to love?

"Rask?" she began, wanting, needing to know, even as she feared the answer. But they needed to start somewhere. And she needed to protect him. She needed to be better for him. "Do...you trust me?" Before he could answer, she was stumbling over herself to interrupt.

"I would understand...I wouldn't blame you, if you didn't. I don't think I trust me. To take care of you. To protect you. But I...I will try. I want to be good at this, at all of it, I want to understand it, I..."

She shook her head, broke off, blushing.

"Rask?" she started again, much more gently this time. "What is that second voice?"

 

[Kaisaan]

She spoke of naming them when they were born and then turned around and started thinking of names once more. It amused Mori greatly, but he said nothing, not needing to as he listened to Rora, reveled in her happiness and let her have it, listening carefully to her plans. She was so close to her due date, so emotional and mentally fragile right now, moods coming and going, up and down that Mori found he expected things like this; for his mate to constantly change her mind, contradict herself and he'd grown used to it, was still rather amused by it often enough, though, he rarely said anything to Rora as she tended to get snappy with him if he did.

It only added to the light, happy mood that had descended over them now, though, and the black Aavan watched the Empath play with his fingers with a smile curving at his lips as he listened to Rora and his mind curled lovingly with hers, almost knowing her thoughts before she had them, both of them so close and open right now, as a Bonded pair should be.

Especially during a time like this, with labor approaching.

Rora needed to feel as secure and relaxed as she could and that was why Mori himself had not been ALLOWED to leave this room since Rora had come to stay. The Healers and Whisperers were more than willing to cast aside pride and say they needed him here. It was rather funny, actually.

One pregnant Maiden and they were all shaking at the knees.

The thought brought a glimmer to Mori's eyes, but he kept on topic and nodded slowly to Rora's explanation, her plans, finding them well-thought out and doable. She'd obviously been contemplating things like this for a while, and why shouldn't she? It was her body carrying around their children, she had every right to think about them all the time if she wished. And certainly to plan something for their names.

"Stormborn...Stormborn..." Mori tested the word on his tongue and finally growled softly in assent, finding that the name - and he still found it strange that Cerebrae HAD two names - was pleasing.

"Tai'risNya." The name came to his tongue almost unbidden and Mori paused for a moment, looking at Rora and then toward her stomach, his hand reaching out to touch the tight skin beneath her clothing, feeling a faint hum he frowned at slightly before realizing he'd sensed it before. Rask! He was still guarding them! The realization made the black Aavan blink in surprise before he shook his head a bit and got back on focus, finally nodded slightly to himself after a moment of silent thought even the violet threads in his mind would be hard-pressed to decipher.

"An Era of Peaceful Dawn. Tai'risNya. Rekuhisha. That is what she'll be called." The latter name came from nowhere and Mori was not sure if he actually felt it or imagined the flash of dark blue that twinkled out from the lighter blue threads that made up his mind.

--

The question seared through his mind like fiery light. Did he trust her?

Rask barely heard the rest of what Lyra was saying, even as he comprehended it, unable to not hear it, understand her words to some degree when they were in his mind, emotions and intentions and motives attached to every sentence, every syllable. No, he understood even as he was too focused on the first question to really pay attention to the rest.

Did he trust her?

.......Did she even have to ask?

Rask's head lifted, large green eyes meeting tangerine once more, but it was his mind that almost seemed to regard her with a serious expression, with a burning passion that engulfed every thread of gold the scarlet touched. It spoke an answer all its own: she already knew the answer. He had told her the answer long ago and it had not changed, not for anything, not through anything. His answer was just as much the same today, in this moment as it had been some time ago, after the first battle with the Ashkerai.

"I trust you. I have always trusted you."

Even before the Bond, before he'd even known her name, before he could so much as speak one word to her, he'd trusted Lyra. He would never stop trusting her. Even in his darkest moments, when he'd hesitated to know what was true and what was false, he'd trusted Lyra. Even when she'd hit him, he'd trusted her. Even furious with her, he trusted her.

He would give her everything he was, despite his own fear and the pain....because he trusted his Keeper. His mate. His Lyra.

"I love you and I will always trust you. I am yours."

Rask's mind told her such far more than his words could, how deep that emotion extended and it was for his great trust in her that when she asked her second question, the gold Aavan shuddered, but did not flinch back from the topic. It brought a flash of acute pain as he answered, though, and Rask's mental voice hitched with the brief flare of agony and the jumbled flashes of images that came with it, memories he could not make sense of.

His wall was starting to crumble.

"It's me. The...the voice is me...an echo of a time already lived....but not lived yet, too."

The streak of pain grew sharper with his words, causing the gold Aavan to thrash is large head, a keening cry in his throat that never made a sound, but caused the gold threads in his mind to grow taunt, trembling until the pain passed again. It left Rask's entire body shuddering, his breathing ragged and he was only vaguely aware of Asesee speaking, gently trying to urge him into his smaller form. Rask didn't comply, even as part of him knew that would be wiser, retreating inward to Lyra, beyond scared, but still trying to keep the wall he'd made from the rest of his mind up even as it cracked in several places, straining with a pressure he couldn't hold back forever.

"I'm sorry! I don't know...I can't. There are so many...so many memories! I..I can't...they won't make sense. It hurts. Lyra, it hurts. I can't make it stop! I don't know why...I've tried but it won't....it won't stop." The pain had gone back to a constant throb now, but the gold of Rask's mind trembled like a leaf in a storm, tight and rigid, but extremely volatile against anything that wasn't the scarlet, like a caged animal ready to lash out at a helping hand or a harming one.

"I don't understand. It...it's like I've lived....had two lives!"

You have. You just haven't remember until now.