Arkan the God Slayer

*After the bloody and traitorous battle, Shava melts into a bath*

Sydney is almost too tired to pray, much less offer prayers with her new congregation, but she does so. Bahamut has preserved her this day, and she owes him thanks.

As soon as the small service finishes, however, she sheds her armor and examines her wounds. Though healed, she did take a spike through the gut and her body is sore. After a moment’s hesitation, still mostly clothed, she steps over to the bath near Shava.

“Would you mind, um...if I joined you?” she asks, gesturing awkwardly at the water.

*Shava's eyes open slowly and gaze deeply at her. She nods and sinks lower into the pool. Her hair fans out around her in thick waves of black. She leans her head on the side of the pool and sighs again.*
The spirit's are still restless...

Sydney nods back, but doesn’t get in for several seconds more. Shava’s silent confidence unnerves her somewhat. But she does ease herself into the water, and the warmth quickly melts her hesitation and she sinks deeper. The comment about spirits brings back a little of Sydney’s nerves, however.

“Still?” she gulps. She doesn’t remember any spirits being restless in the first place.

*She nods as her eyes stay closed* They don't like this place. So many abominations and so much death. *She brings a hand up and rubs her temples* I just want to rest...yet they don't stay quiet. *Stops after a moment and opens her eyes, casting a sideways glance at Sydney*
Is that not so with your God?

“With Bahamut?” Sydney replies, surprised. “I mean, no. He’s not...he doesn’t, um. Talk to me? On a regular basis? I mean, he’s not always in my head telling me things, although I suppose I’ve dedicated my life to living by his will, so my thoughts are his thoughts...” She’s rambling, she knows it, but she can’t stop. “But, regardless, he doesn’t. Like this place, I mean. He doesn’t like this place. Like your spirits. Spirits? You talk to spirits? And they have a problem with death?”

*Shava listens patiently to Sydney, her ramblings she finds curious-but not off putting. Her experience with many voices has taught her to be calm among noise. She knows she can learn from it.*
I see. *Her eyes bore into Sydney, like a wolf contemplating a curious object.*
Yes, I talk with spirits. I was blessed with druidic gifts and given the responsibility to listen and help balance this world. The spirits are restless because the undead here are an abomination. They have not accepted their fate. Rather than move on to the next plane and join the spirits in death, they linger here. Neither living nor dead. To make matters worse, these foul creatures wreak destruction on the mortal realm. They must be eliminated. The spirits press upon me the responsibility to invite them through the door.

Sydney squirms under Shava’s watchful gaze. For a moment, she finds herself wishing she was blind again, so that she would not have to endure such scrutiny, but something tells her Shava’s attentions would be palpable regardless. She purses her lips and nods as Shava speaks. The words make sense.

“Your magic comes from the land, then? Not...the spirits...?”

*Stops and thinks about this for a moment.* It comes from both I suppose. I am a guardian of twilight... unlike other druids I walk between life and death.

*She gets up and Wade's slowly to the other side of the pool where sit various oils and soaps. She sniffs a couple and makes her decision. Grabbing a couple vials she comes back to Sydney and offers her a bottle.* For your body.

“Oh, no. No, no, that’s all right,” Sydney says, lifting her arms from the water to shake her hands back and forth. Her wet sleeves waggle with the motion. Blushing, she submerges her arms again, suddenly very aware that she is surrounded by—NAY, keeping company WITH—naked people sharing the same water. Anything else she might have said simply dies in her mouth. She sits for a moment, her mouth slightly open, blinking her grey and clouded eyes.

“Twilight,” she says softly. “Sailors call it the line between life and death, too.”

*Cocks her head slightly...not unlike a wolf. She walks closely up to Sydney and pulls gently at her sleeve.*
You won't wash? You're covered in blood and your clothing is in tatters. It will do you good.

*As if to prove her point, she shakes some of the soap onto her hands and begins massaging it into her arms, neck and breasts. The black sooty warpaint begins to melt down her body.*

Yes, I have heard it called many things. Sailors like to ask me about it as well. They ask about those they've lost on the waters.

Blushing, Sydney looks down as soon as Shava starts to wash herself. She shields her eyes for extra measure as she replies, “No, no—no. I’m fine. Fine. Definitely fine.” Perhaps getting in the pool was a mistake. She almost doesn’t hear what Shava says, but the last part gains her attention in a snap.

“Can you speak to them? Those lost on the water?”

*At Sydney's tone, Shava stops and becomes incredibly leery. She has seen this before. The need.*

At times...yes.

*She dips and comes out of the water. Her skin clear and glistening golden brown. She shakes her head and walks slowly next to Sydney. She sits down and peers deeply into her eyes.*

You...have lost someone.

Sydney shies away from Shava’s nearness. Under ordinary circumstances, she does not allow people so close to her eyes for she knows how unsettling they are. Grey discs where her pupil and iris should be. She stammers our a reply all the same.

“I—I have, yes. I... My brother. At sea. The day I lost my sight.”

*Shava sighs deeply, closing her eyes for a moment. She opens them again and her sharp yellow eyes meet the scared grey ones. She puts a hand over Sydney's.*

I am...sorry. I would be willing to try...to speak to him. But I can't promise what the outcome will be.

“If you were me...” Sydney replies, “...knowing what you know... Would you want to speak with someone passed? Or...would it be better to let the dead rest?”

She gives Shava a somber, serious expression. She has made her peace with Marcus’s death several times over, but given the opportunity to communicate with him again... She should perhaps exercise more caution.

*Shakes her head nervously.*

I am not you, nor am I a fair judge. I hear them every moment. To me there is hardly a difference between them and us. However... *She pauses, worried about what she will next say* Some of them...do not see a reason to talk. I would not want you to get your hopes up only to have them crushed.

Quiet, Sydney ponders. She lost Marcus so suddenly. She lost everything so suddenly. And yet that life feels so far removed from her now. She has lived several years for Bahamut and Bahamut alone, but that does not mean she can forget her former life entirely.

“I only wish...to know he is at peace.”

*Nods softly. She pats her hand.*

As I said, we can try. But you must prepare yourself for grief and disappointment. If you can do this, then I will help you.

But...*She tugs at Sydney's shirt again* I really must insist you bathe first... properly. Are you so shy you cannot take care of yourself?

“I am not shy,” Sydney replies, attempting indignant and achieving only anxious. “I value my privacy, that’s all.” She clears her throat. “One has very little of it aboard a ship, so it’s something I have come to treasure. Besides...” She stands and pulls up her shirt to show Shava her stomach, bruised but healed from the impaling. “I have already taken care of myself.”

*Smiles at her wryly. She reaches out a finger and brushes at some dried blood on Sydney's cheek*

But you still need to clean yourself. *Shava stretches out her hand and a fog appears around them. Some of the other residents cry out and she growls wildly at them to be quiet. Once the fog obscures the surroundings she turns her gaze back to Sydney. She hold out the soap*

This should help.

Certainly indignant now, Sydney takes the soap. She gives Shava a look before dipping under the water until her head is entirely submerged. She removes her shirt and tosses it on the side of the pool, washes quickly, and grabs the shirt again, all without raising more than her nose above the water. Then she turns to Shava once more. “Finished.”

*chuckle and waves her off*

Don't be upset love, simply trying help. Take your time.

*She walks away far enough so Sydney is blurred*.

“I don’t want to take my time, I don’t want to wash at all!” Sydney replies. Huffing, she wades through the water, following Shava until she emerges from the fog herself. Without another word, she goes to the edge of the pool and climbs out.

It takes her a moment to locate the towels, but once she does, she returns to her pile of armor and equipment. She has a dry set of traveling clothes, but as she pulls them out she realizes she doesn’t have anywhere to change.

Absolutely defeated, Sydney turns her face to the ceiling and squeezes her eyes shut. “Damn it.”

*Shava watches this all half amused. At Sydney's defeated outburst she becomes slightly confused."

You are quite testy love. None of us are happy with the circumstances...but it is unwise when we refuse what's been offered to us. You are lucky to be alive, in a place that offers some comfort and reprive, surrounded by allies. You could be in a jail cell, stripped and at the mercy of your captors...take some comfort that is not your circumstance now...

*Here she pauses... sensing something. She speaks the next word in a half trance*

However; you've known worse circumstances than these...you've known the other side....that is what makes you...disturbed now...

*She comes out of the trance and watches Sydney.* Don't let your past, make you lose focus of the now. It is more than the dead who must remember when it's time to move on. Otherwise you keep yourself in your own twilight.