The Lady Don't Mind
#1
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Nayru is a classy woman, that she is. / +304!

The thought of wine still nauseated her. Since Samhain the woman had no appetite for the alcoholic substance and so it was fortunate that the work in the vineyards had very nearly slow to a halt for the year. Still some wine aged in hand crafted barrels, but Nayru only had to check the stuff every now and then, make sure it was still there and undisturbed. It was this small task she had just completed as she moved away from the mountain side, seeking the fresh and calming air of the sea.


It was not only wine that nauseated the two toned lady. Most days meat—the cooked meat she had become accustomed to--churned her stomach. Nayru found that only the coppery taste of a fresh kill could satiate her and even that at times was rejected by the woman's fickle stomach. Whatever virus had invaded the woman's vessel had quite a hold and seemed to be growing in strength; it was on most days now that she woke with the sickness at its peak. That very morning she had left a large pile of bile and half digested matter outside of wine cellar that she slept in most nights now.


Now it was midday as she came up to the shore and Nayru found the warm and sloppy feeling moving up her body again. The heave from her abdomen sent the small amount of food she had managed to keep down flying out of her small face. As the mess met with the ocean Nayru watched with watery eyes the chunks float away. Sinking to her knees the small girl curse whatever parasite was wrecking such havoc upon her body and blessing whatever entities it was that kept the others away from her and her sickness a secret and private matter.

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#2
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My life sucks right now but I am still stupid excited to do this thread.


What had happened that night? Conscious, concrete decisions had been made not to dwell on such thoughts, and yet foreign feelings of dread tainted his stomach and pulled down his ears. Memories were cloudy, intertwined with images of smiles and sounds of laughter. He remembered the masks of Samhain, the call they had made once the facade had been cast into Pripyat's bonfire. He remembered the slurring of his co-leader, of the two-toned beauty he'd watched grow from afar and led Ichika proudly beside. He'd been glad to see her loosen up for once, to temporarily forget all that Gideon had left in her mind to regret. Perhaps he had been too glad.


For some time Razekiel had stepped beside Lark that morning, speaking with the stallion on such complicated matters of the heart and mind, but the unresponsive blue roan seemed indifferent to his ramblings on that day in particular. The coyote could not suppress a need to walk and think, and so he did so; his mind remained troubled, and yet for the sake of clarity he lit only a typical cigarette and abandoned his joints for the time being. He did not need happiness — he needed security. Closure.


Dark ears twitched as he heard the gagging sound over the rolling of the waves, and with curiosity he followed the sound. Though he did not smoke it at the time, the man always held several joints of marijuana on his person at any given moment; if it aided in another's sickness, he would be quick to offer it. However, coming upon Nayru was the last of what he expected, and for a moment he troubled himself with the realization that she was both the first and last person he wished to see. Nevertheless, her illness concerned him, and the coyote stepped forward with cautiousness in his step.


"Freedom fighter," he called gently, arms lifted and reaching in concern. "You're ill, love... Oh, you look terrible, man. Come on," he said, reaching for her hand, "let's find you a place to lie down."

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#3
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. as am I! / +423 !

The voice of the one who interrupted her sickness brought on another wave of vomiting, as if the gentle words were the cause of her illness. Nayru knew who had come up behind her before the voice reached her, but still she had not turned to face him, preferring the safety of being so close to the ground and ocean rather than up in the air where vertigo might overtake her. Only when he was so close and reaching out to her did she turn and take him hand, her face full of embarrassment at the man finding her in such a state. That his co-leader be puking her guts out on hands and knees along the shoreline was certainly not what the hybrid had hoped to run across today, and yet there was no changing that now. "Raz…" Nayru allowed herself to be hauled up by her friend, and wavered uneasily on her feet. "I don't feel so well these days."


It was all she could do to move away from the water with the aid of the man. At his nearness and touch the patchy memories of Samhain resurfaced, and Nayru remembered for the first time what had truly transpired. Before there had only been blackness where there should have been memories. It had been as if a few hours of her life had never happened, and now little bits and pieces came back. Her laughing, smiling, he as well. She, only too eager, he only too willing. Nayru would have flushed then at the thought of their actions if not for sinking again to her feet, now several yards away from the shore where the ocean continued to clean up after the Jiryu.


Laying down in the sand, as if it were the best of beds, she closed crimson eyes to the world and to Razekiel. The knowledge that should have been there before startled her, and yet she found she was not sorry for it. Only, was he? There wasn't much reason to dwell on it though, in her current state. Surely the phantom illness was of more importance now than the careless actions of two creatures high on life, smoke and intoxication. Opening cherry orbs to him, she smiled feebly, brushing back fur that had fallen in her fair when she laid herself down. "I'm glad you're here." And she realized that truly she was, because although she hadn't wished for anyone to witness such a scene, she could not help but find comfort in her friend's presence.

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#4
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That wretched sound met his words, and with furrowed brows the coyote watches the the dual-toned woman lurched and vomited once more into the sea. Surely Father Ocean did not delight in such things, but Razekiel had always considered he to be much more the patient and sympathetic type compared to the windswept and occasionally vengeful Earthmother. He wanted to chuckle at the thought, but as if Nayru's illness were contagious, he frowned and fought worry in his stomach instead.


He saw the humiliation in her features, hardly kept subtle amidst her illness; at this Razekiel offered a comforting smile, attempting to further ward away her embarrassment. Squeezing her hand a moment, he helped her to her feet gently and rubbed at her back, sympathy in his features. He thought not of the times of Samhain, of the things that had worried him so; what occurred to him only then was his concern for her condition, and finding her a place to rest. "I don't doubt it, dove," he said, unafraid to draw near and support her weight, at least until she paled once more and surrendered to laying in the sand, stretched out and for the moment, smiling.


Without a second's hesitation, the male plopped into the sand beside her, upright and watching Father Ocean gradually phase away what Nayru had regurgitated. An ear twitched when she spoke once more, and he turned a genuine smile back at her and breathed into his cigarette a few quick times before answering. "Of course, of course, my liberty," he said. "You should have said something, man. You know I would have taken over for you to have a few days off, yeah?" Oblivious? Perhaps. Unaware? Not necessarily.

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#5
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. ! / +347 !

The warmth of the man's hand, on her back, in her own hand, helping her back into the sand, was comforting. As she plopped himself aside her, Nayru reached with tiny, slender fingers for his own hand that was free from the cigarette. Lacing her own hand with his did not feel strange, as it might have with another. Nothing between her and Razekiel had felt strange, from the very first day they had met. It had perhaps been fate that had led the child into the man's presence what seemed like so long ago, and fate that had brought them together to create a pack. Perhaps then it was always fate that brought them together again.


Oh, it's not as bad as all that. Nayru loathed the thought of taking any amount of time off from her duties, even if it were only a few days. Only when her head had been sliced open by her own glass roof has she allowed herself to rest. And then the rest had grown into a deep depression. How useless she had felt laying in bed, and even more so the longer she did so. Yet once the cycle had been set in motion it had proven difficult to stop. The lady had removed herself from Dahlia then and the fear of such a depression taking her again kept the woman in constant movement most days. I only feel sick some of the time…


Cherry eyes turned up to Razekiel, eying the smoke that came twisting from his lips. Nayru remembered as a child partaking with him, how pleasant it had felt. Perhaps then it would ease her illness now. Then she laughed at her own thought, wondering how strange it was that she still could laugh when so violently sick moments ago. It's funny but even with how sick I am, I only wish to eat. My hunger is truly insatiable these days. And was it showing? Nayru thought perhaps she seemed only the tiniest bit bigger, around her waistline, but it was hard to tell just then.

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#6
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Out of character text here.


Without prompt, she laced her fingers with his and settled back, shifting gently into a mode more relaxed than that of when she had been vomiting. Observing the change, Razekiel silently considered her position and the ongoings of her life in contrast to timing, and with his free hand he pulled at the small goatee that hung from his chin.


"Only some of the time," he repeated aloud, small puffs of smoke intertwined with his breath in the frigid air quick to escape from his lips. Straw eyes returned to her then, their color intense with curiosity and thought. "Perhaps it is stress, Lady Liberty, yeah? Even ol' Razekiel knows what happened with Gideon, and..."


He pulled at the tuft of hair again and against, mumbling beneath his breath in thought as his eyes wandered. He was no healer, though he knew the basics of first aid; his knowledge of illnesses was fairly limited, however, as the most he could fix up were scrapes and scratches. Twisting and reaching into his satchel with his open hand, he dug a moment before pulling out a joint and offering it to her. "Maybe this could help," he shrugged, beginning to chuckle, "might numb some of the pain, man. Shouldn't make it worse, shouldn't be harmful, unless..."


His voice trailed off, his laugh hanging empty in the air. Smile disappearing, he stared at her a long moment, then cast his gaze away at the ocean and dipped into the silence of doubtful thoughts.

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#7
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. ! / + !

Nayru felt at peace there, with the man, her fingers locked into his. And then he spoke the name she had in some ways so easily forgotten. Her heart fluttered at the mention of the boy she had known as a friend, brother and lover and she turned cherry eyes from Razekiel. Could this sickness be a strange mourning for Gideon? Had not the drunken night of Samhain been enough? Abandoning Cerne Rise and becoming a nomad in her own homelands? Nayru shook her head and did not comment on the suggestion, merely turning her face back to the coyote hybrid with a new smile upon her face, as if to say: "No, see? I am fine. Happy even. My heart does not break."


And surely the man must have believed her, for he began to dig for the very drug that she craved just then. As if it could cure all the world's ailments, as it seemed to for him. Nayru watched him withdraw the rolled herbs from his bag and she began to reach for it, only all too eager to grab it up. And yet his voice halted her, fingers floating in the air. Suddenly he began pensive, suddenly something felt not right. So much so that Nayru withdrew her fingers from his, and sat up just a little bit. Unless what Raz? Nayru sat up further, concern suddenly filling every space in her being. Unless what? What’s wrong with me? And the question she should have known the answer to lingered in the air until it was swallowed up by the waves of the Ocean Father.



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