[Training] (SE) where’s your backbone?

KIADA

There’s paws that push her to the ground, igniting that predator within her too as she wriggles beneath those retracted claws and large paws to squirm and turn, kicking out with her back legs to try and push him off – a hiss accompanying her as she dives straight into the skin she’s living in. And she can feel the connection they take, the force that shutters her knees as she succeeds, pushing him off and granting her a bit of space to hop up and try and lift one of those ribboned paws again.

She looks to him, feeling the warring of emotions within him, remembering how she had felt when she’d arrived and found her shift to be this way. She pulses that kinship toward him, that similar feeling of the worlds she’s fallen through, the friends she’s lost, the family left behind. But she shares her optimism too, the fact that it’s a new life with a new world – dangerous as it might be – but a new place for friends and family. A fresh start, if you ever really needed one, and somehow it’s easier for her. To forget about her home and those she loved to focus on what was here and now.

At least until she went home at night, alone, thinking of everything she missed until she fell asleep in a heap of anxious feathers and a similar sorrow that takes over her in the darkest hour.

His voice is heard loud and clear in her mind, the way he looks away and down to his paws, and she approaches ever so slowly as his question hits her mind. She pauses, halting in her step, the one paw still lifted as tufted ears perk toward him. You just… At some point you realize it’s not a dream. And it sucks, you cry and scream at how unfair it is. She offers – because she had. She had screamed at gods for the wrongdoings to her.

And still she’s ended up without everything, family appearing by happenstance and nothing more. Luck, not some divine intervention. Luck. And then you move on, you take what you can get. You can’t go back, you can’t bring anyone here. There’s no path to take to try and live that old you. Her gaze softens, a softness to the bond as well as she shares that kinship with him. So you make new ones. She begins to move again, going to circle him until she comes up on his other side and they’re facing the same way – that paw lifted as she tries to boop him on the head once more. It gets easier, Chuy. It sucks, for a… Long while. But you’re not alone. He isn’t alone with the experience – all the Outlanders could likely say the same.

If nothing else, she’s here for him, with all the experience of losing world after world, path after path. And now? Nothing guides her, there's little of a point to it when she expects everything to get ripped away from her again.

i know every river has an end

you loved me and then you left

you loved me and then you didn't

When it all seems too much, when the bond is rife with my emotions and I fear I will never regain control over them, I feel her. The empathic link sends as well as receives, and her message, her emotions match my own, the nostalgia, the yearning, the sorrow and grief. And then they offer a change, a bright dash of colour in amidst the dark abyss, a spotlight of hope, a break of sunshine in the overcast sky, a forecast of smoother weather, sunnier days.

I would never forget where I came from. I gave that advice to Kia myself, did I not? I would always remember where I came from, so that I could accurately measure where I was now, where I was going in the future. Only, the future was unwritten, unknown, and I was scared to cling to any hope when all the hope I did have was washed away by the current tsunami.

Her words reach out to me, my mind clinging to them, wanting to know how she survived this, not once, but multiple times. I had been fortunate in my life, loss and death very few and far between in my young life so far - this was it, this was the biggest change, the biggest adjustment that I have ever known - would it be the biggest forever, I can't help but wonder?

I feel her, and oh, I just want to hold her, to embrace her, to lock away my hurting emotions and to live back in the present, where I can just exist and be present - why did the attuned bond do this to me? Would it always be this way?

She circles me, and my senses prick up once more, the words and the emotion slowly getting through to me, lifting me up and out of my funk. I raise the ribboned paw once more, and I watch her as she comes again with the same attempt as her initial, but this time I see it coming, and I embrace the reflexes that allow me to duck mostly out of its reach. It still glances along my brow, but I move, with far more coordination than I started this session with, bowing mostly out of the way, using this to lean into a deep crouch.

Pushing myself into a leap once more, I hope to pin her down at her shoulder this time, and if successful in doing so, plant a bit kiss on her caracal face with my feline tongue. 'It does suck,' I confirm, agreeing with her, purring despite it all, as the admission is cathartic. I cling to the hope she offers, to the optimism, to the perspective of one who has been through sort of journey before. 'Thanks for helping me find a new path,' I offer with a wave of gratitude, as the emotional outburst settles, still present, but much less overwhelming.

Chulane

fridooh & whimzi @ deviantart

KIADA

He had given her that message in the past. To not live in the past and dwell on it, that you’d always be a part of the place you were born in. So as she sends those feelings over, approaches him and lifts her ribboned paw, she bops him gently on the head and shoves more of that feeling of needing to give into his shifts and his emotions and to embrace them the best he can. She wonders if perhaps going on a hunt with him in this form is worth it, to turn him into that predator that lingers within the skin, blinded to the pursuit of the hunt.

Perhaps later, when things aren’t as fragile emotionally as they are right now. Still, all she can do is be a pillar for him, as someone who has been in his shoes (paws?) beforehand, relating and sharing that things did indeed get better, even while they were terrible for a while. And even still, it was okay to give into the despair and frustrations about it. Nobody asked to come here that did, they just simply… Appeared, ripped from their old worlds.

She raises her paw to bop him on the head, and he gives into those instincts, ducking but not before the pad of her foot hits his brow and she purrs a pleasant small sound at the result — before he’s crouching and charging at her, pinning her back by her shoulders into the training grounds floor, a large rough tongue licking the side of her face that sticks her whiskers up as she offers a squeal of a growl in response, though nothing but amusement gets sent to him despite how her shift has reacted.

So she peers up at him with those paws pressing her into the ground, iceberg gaze focused and narrowed playfully at him before she dips her head toward him, her own equally rough tongue lashing out to lick his nose in response. Everyone’s gotta start somewhere. She sends to him, a chimes sound of her voice, quite pleased despite not trying at all to get out of his reach. I’m glad you’re willing to let me help you. She pours every ounce of the honesty within that statement, within everything she can. The trust is huge with it, a stepping stone for Kiada who struggled with any sort of trying to trust people, waiting for the knife in her back when she’s not looking.

But she also wasn’t a good person, not like it seemed like he was. She keeps her darker parts and her past hidden deep within her, too afraid to let it out and tarnish whatever sort of idea Chulane has of her. For now? This is far too nice to fuck up.

i know every river has an end

you loved me and then you left

you loved me and then you didn't

It was hard to remember that I wasn't the only one going through a struggle, that I wasn't the first person on this world to have something tragic happen to him, and that like most injuries, time would heal. Good humour and living in the moment were not necessarily the best ways to cope, but if they let me survive, let me get to a point where one day I felt stable and genuinely alright again, I would do my best to embrace them.

But to live in the moment, one had to acknowledge the past, to remember it, to process it. My past was filled mostly with joy, with an easy happiness in a scientific career and healthy, stable friendships. This was the first major traumatic experience I had ever endured, and I felt foolish for how easily it almost brought me down. A deep purr vibrates through my throat and chest as she returns the gesture to my nose, a goofy feline 'grin' curving my lips, most definitely a Very Human expression forced onto a leopard's face.

The weight of her honesty, the gratitude, the pleasure, is a curious, and welcome, experience. I had no idea where we were up to in our 'training', but I know I had certainly learned a lot - about myself, about this attuned form, and the empathic and telepathic abilities it gave us. I push back my own gratitude, letting it fill me up, letting it overtake the weight of the sorrow, the heartache - those were still there, to be sure, but they were not the dominant emotion. In this moment, I felt grateful, and… affectionate (the mild way of describing that particular emotion).

I was a bit embarrassed when the emotion leaked out, the attraction, the hints of desire, and immediately I reined them all back in, a note of apology being sent before I emotionally retreated back into myself. I lifted myself a bit away from her, afraid I may have caused offence, or awkwardness. 'Fucking emotions,' I offer with what I hope is light-hearted humour. 'This empathic link is unlike anything I've ever experienced,' I try to explain, shaking my head in what was again a Very Human gesture. 'You know how I said humans were harder to diagnose because they often let that pride thing get in the way?'

I sit beside her, tail twitching, wondering what she would have to say for my slip up - I hoped, I prayed (though to who was questionable), that she wouldn't think me a creep, that she wouldn't turn away from me, that she would hear me out, and forgive me if I had caused her offence, or embarrassment, for not being able to keep my growing attraction to her controlled during a time where we were meant to be 'training'.

Chulane

fridooh & whimzi @ deviantart

KIADA

your battleworn tongue doesn't say the truth;

that you are ruined

The purr is a welcome relief to the tension she can feel within him. And honestly, she understands as well. He can try to hide it as much as he’d like to, but she can see through whatever mask he tries to use to hide behind – because she wears the same one after so long. Still, she’s thankful when that goofy grin curves his lips, when the pang of his understanding and the weight of the grief begins to shift toward something different. Something full of gratitude, and then suddenly something affectionate that resonates a resounding purr from her throat as well.

But then he almost becomes bashful, and there’s some small part of amusement she keeps to herself with it as he pulls away and apologizes. And there’s a number of things that Kiada could do – she could ignore it, she could reply back audibly, or… Or.

She listens to what he says, finding the humor within and sending back a pulse of amusement toward him to try and alleviate the edge of whatever he might be feeling, before she moves to stand, to brush against him in her feline form once more before she sits at his side and shifts back into herself – her very human self, aiming to reach up and run her hands through his spotted fur. I remember. She tells him, flashing him a quiet grin, flashing him a hint of that similar affection back toward him and keeping the rest of herself hidden away.

Perhaps it’s better if he didn’t know about her past anyway, of all the red that stained her hands.

When I was born I had magic. It was a fire that erupted from my spine, and it would take different shapes depending on my emotions. She explains, tilting her head toward him with that same quiet smile gracing her face. I learned early on that people could read me like an open book. So I tried to hide them or mask them. I know the pride thing quite intimately well.

and you wonder why he lets you,

the butcher

touch him

the sun

I was embarrassed. I felt exposed, like I had revealed too much of myself, lost control. The jurisdiction of my emotions had just gotten a whole lot more complex, not only by the new emotions that trauma was revealing within me, but also this attunedness, this bond that broadcast them. Fortunately, at least, only others with this attunedness would receive the message, the emotions, the thoughts and whatever else I hadn't yet unlocked in this ability. And I could control it, it was just a new way to have to live, to guard myself. My facial expressions, as a human, were generally schooled to happiness, to friendly openness, and honestly, that was usually how I was genuinely feeling - on the surface.

It was harder, for me, as I slowly learned more about this new aspect of myself, to lock away those deep down emotions - particularly, it would seem, if I wanted to fully embrace the instincts of this form, to remove that delay between human-brain and leopard-brain. I was braced for rejection to come in various ways, for outright outcry, or complete and total ignorance, or mocking, debilitating comments that would wound me deeper than words ever had a right to. And yet I received none of that, instead a gentle pulse of amusement, of gentle humour, of warmth and acceptance. Her copper form brushes up against me, and I lean into it, purring, before finding myself looking up to her very human self, the shift happening swiftly, seamlessly.

Her hands run through my pelt, and it is a curious sensation, one I have never felt before, but find I enjoy immensely - mostly in the knowledge that it is she who is doing it. The purrs only intensify as her emotions mirror my own, excitement buzzing through me, welcoming her touches, both physical and emotional - silently I promised to never push her away, though I knew so little about her, it was safe to say I was crushing hard.

I remain in my leopard form, moving to sit in her lap. Had my human mind still been dominant, I would have found the action awkward, but with this embrace of instincts, the melding of leopard and human minds and souls, I found it only promoted the nearness which I sought from her, nearness that I felt wouldn't yet be achieved if I followed suit and shifted. I looked up at her, holding her gaze as she told me another titbit of her past, accepting it, welcoming it, hoping the emotions that I allowed to populate the bond convey that to her. With my feline senses, I hold her in an entirely new light, seeing parts of her I had missed, finding my attention snagging on scars visible on her hands and neck - I had noticed them before, but had not felt compelled to ask further about them. In this setting, in this moment however, I felt was it right.

'Tell me about your scars.' It was not a demand, merely a gentle request, and I would accept if she wished to keep the stories to herself.

Chulane

fridooh & whimzi @ deviantart

KIADA

your battleworn tongue doesn't say the truth;

that you are ruined

He doesn’t seem to pull away from her touch, and so she continues the light strokes through the spotted fur, pausing ever so slightly as he welcomes it. And then, soon enough, she’s unfolding her legs a small amount as he clamors in, huffing a small laugh as he does so, but continues to stroke the fur there, a softer smile crossing her face as she goes to scratch behind his ears – surprisingly content with this turn of events.

His gaze finds hers, those feline blues and her own iceberg ones meeting as she flashes him a wide grin, letting the emotions fill her and rebound back to him – the happiness of the way the training had ended up, the content to where he’d ended up, everything at the end of the day. But when his voice reaches her mind once more, she pauses in her scratching a small amount – one hand lifting to the X alongside her neck as she wonders how much to delve into – if it would change his mind about her.

Regardless, he probably feels the slight hesitation within her at the answer she thinks of.

That fire magic I told you about, I have burn scars along my spine from top to bottom from it. I used to have this armor… It was enchanted, sort of, that would fold into my spine but when I used it in the second world I fell into, it would puncture me. She pauses, pulling her braid over her shoulder and turning a small amount to try and show him the scars that are visible from the top of her back as she pulls her shirt down a small amount. I have… A scar on my shoulder from a fire arrow. A few on my sides from skirmishes and battles… One on my leg from last Fiat Lux… And gods is she stalling.

The ‘X’ however. I had been given this amulet in my first world… I wore it around my neck and when I fell through the portal to the Rift, the second world, the amulet exploded. Except while I was there, it oozed some sort of… Teal, glowing liquid. When I came here, it stopped, but left it just as deep. Her shoulders rise and fall in a small shrug, avoiding the harder questions to be answered – like why the amulet had exploded, what kind of god had given it to her, what blood lust used to (and still sometimes does) linger beneath her scarred skin.

and you wonder why he lets you,

the butcher

touch him

the sun

Happiness is not an ideal of reason but of imagination

It was just so easy to be with her, to sit with her, no matter the form either of us took, no matter the topic of conversation. I was naïve, I knew it - I was always prone to seeing the good in people, to assuming everyone was inherently good, kind, well-meaning (like me?) On Earth, I did not have many relationships, but to those who caught my attention, I was quick to declare love, to seek out those deeper emotions, those intimate moments. I had been burned, admittedly to my past behaviour, which had caused me to hesitate my outright declarations of love - but it hardly stopped the emotions themselves from forming within me.

Goddamnit, I didn't love her already, did I?

Wouldn't fucking surprise me. Ugh.

(To be clear, I am annoyed at myself.)

(To be absolutely, perfectly certain, I am pretty sure I am smitten already.)

(Goddamnit!)

I listen, to both the silence as it stretches out between us, and then her words. There is hesitation, I heard it, felt it, but practiced patience, maintaining a calm and welcoming demeanour - and also hoping to reassure her that I did not mind if she did not want to share. It was her story to tell, and while I welcomed it, I did not want to force it from her if she was not fully prepared to retell her tales. But then she spoke, she shared and showed, and I obediently looked, mewing soft sounds of concern as she relived the painful memories.

She spoke of battles, of armour and more magic - wild magic?, like Jigano lectured about? Or different again? - and I absorbed it all, grateful that she would entrust me with this much. Of course her words stirred more questions within me, more desire to know all that I could about her, her past, her history - what made Kiada the Kia I was coming to know and like.

Finally, I felt like I had lingered in this shift for long enough, and so I stepped out of her lap, arching my back and headbutting her shoulder on my way out, of course. I let the form I was born into fill me, I return to my tall, lanky (but slowly filling in with muscly bulk) form. I am squatting next to her, and I settle quickly on the ground, surprised at how warm our little "spar" (if you can call it that) has made me. I aim to sit close to her, right by her side, reaching an arm along her shoulders in an embrace, tracing the X as my hand makes its way across her nape.

'Does it cause any pain, now?' I ask softly, restraining the hoard of other questions that were burning within me, wanting to know so much more - but patiently holding my tongue, that she might share when her trust in me grows.

CHULANE

KIADA

your battleworn tongue doesn't say the truth;

that you are ruined

She takes her time, forming the words and the thoughts before she lets them slip, an explanation and a show for what exactly she has gone through – what marred her skin, what kept her guarded and careful when it came to getting attached to anyone. But she already was, wasn’t she? Unintentionally attached, all because of bumping into a stranger along the streets of Halo and offering to help him – what was it like? To start to fall in love again?

It’s an uncomfortable feeling she doesn’t know what to deal with, unsure if she should feel as she did when she got Auni as a companion – regret and sorrow for forgetting the previous loves, her previous companion – or perhaps the excitement that could come from it, the possibilities…

Ah, but she’s so frightened of him disappearing again – of someone she lets herself be unabashedly attached to, dying in the cold dark night, ripped away from her once again. Perhaps she’s not ready – perhaps she never would be.

Perhaps she wouldn’t have a chance again.

Her blue gaze follows him as he goes to step out of her lap, the headbutt to her shoulder sparking a softer smile as he shifts back into himself and she lets her gaze finally linger on him – the dark hair that shifts into some edge and form of curls, the stubble to his chin, that so similar iceberg gaze to her own. She doesn’t move when he reaches his arm around her shoulders, the soft sweet embrace. And when his fingers trail along the X etched into the side of her neck, she almost shivers with it. “No, it doesn’t hurt anymore.” She offers, keeping her gaze on him, something swirling within the blues as she abandons all those other thoughts and leans into his side, trying to bury her cheek against his shoulder.

and you wonder why he lets you,

the butcher

touch him

the sun

Happiness is not an ideal of reason but of imagination

I already knew I didn't have control for how my emotions formed, the speed at which they decided to grow, and who they decided to attach themselves to. I was pretty good at hiding them, at consulting my head before moving on my heart's desires. But this damn attuned thing had me messed up. The sheer weight of the emotions, the rawness and realness of them, had me off balance, had my head spinning, unable to keep up with the leaps my heart was so readily taking.

And yet, I was weirdly OK with it all too.

I was taking deep, slow and steady breaths, pleased that my fitness level had improved enough to allow me to recover from our physical activities so quick. But I couldn't deny that when she leaned into closer to me, her head resting upon my shoulder, my heartrate decidedly increased. Rather grateful that I hadn't yet mastered the art of sharing emotions through the link while in human form (because I would no doubt be broadcasting all of the emotions right now), I simply let my arms fall around her in a warm, firm embrace, and rested my own head upon the top of hers.

It was like a drug, being this near to her, losing myself in my wonder for all things Kia. At her words, I couldn't help but think that while the scar no longer hurt her, the memories of its cause - this amulet, and her misadventures into this realm the Rift - almost certainly did bring up echoes of pain, and suffering.

"That's good," I hum in my deep voice, a hand idly trailing up and down one of her arms now. "Here's to hoping we can make some new, less painful memories, huh?"

CHULANE

KIADA

your battleworn tongue doesn't say the truth;

that you are ruined

Her breathing had recovered swiftly, but it still didn’t mean that she could keep her heart from fluttering every time his fingers traced along her shoulders. Regardless, she sets her head on his shoulder, letting him in however little bit as she could before she got too anxious and too scared to pull away. And he returns it, both arms wrapping around her like a blanket of an embrace, like an ‘it’ll be okay, I promise’ sort of idea that has Kiada far too anxious and yet comfortable all the same.

She’s so confused, but perhaps she needs not to think about it anymore.

So instead, she feels the weight of his head atop her own, listening and feeling the vibration of his voice from where her head rested on him, nuzzling her head into him in a slightly feline way. “To new memories.” She agrees, tilting her head up to look at him with those similar soft pale blue eyes, a soft smile replacing any sort of awkwardness from before.

There’d be time to talk about her past and her mistakes. She only hopes it doesn’t push him away when she does.

and you wonder why he lets you,

the butcher

touch him

the sun

Happiness is not an ideal of reason but of imagination

My body is hyperaware of her nearness, of where our bodies touch, where they lean and rely on each other to allow both of us to simply remain sitting upright. It is nice, it is comfortable and I find myself willing my hyperactive mind to just let go and embrace it. But, much like I couldn't let go of logical thought in my leopard form, I struggle to do so even in this simple moment.

I've never been good with emotions. I had evolved into the being I am, with the career I had (before being plucked up and dumped in this snowy desert) by being able to focus on anything but myself. As the quiet settled all around us after her words, I was left with nothing but my own thoughts and emotions, and well, they scared me.

Was this the start of something? Or had something already been started, back when I, in a braver moment, declared we would go on a date come Flowerbirth? And if it was the start of something, why was I scared? Was it really so bad - was it the worst thing that could happen to me, given what has happened to me so far in this world? Why were emotions so damn terrifying? ugh.

Then she looks up at me, and my anxiety and terror drip away, only a soft, warm smile visible on my lips, as my eyes meet hers. The urge to press a kiss to her forehead is strong, and I, embracing the bravado of the Chuy who declared we would go on a date, plucked up the courage to follow through. Gently, delicately so, I pressed one against her forehead with my soft, breaded lips, lingering slightly longer than a simple peck, but not so long as to be called awkward to inappropriate.

And we stay, sitting, breathing, simply being in each other's company for the rest of the morning.

--FIN <3

CHULANE