Arkan the God Slayer

Eyes shut, Sydney breathes in and out with measure and meditation. There is solitude in the darkness.

Shava’s words are profound. Truthful, also, but that does not mean they do not strike the flint of Sydney’s ire. She controls her tongue, however. Her life has been a life of control and obedience. She has had practice. And she has already lost her temper too many times today. When she’s ready, she opens her eyes.

“I am not ungrateful,” she says, quiet. “My every action is a symbol of my gratitude. Without Bahamut, I would be one of those myriad dead. He took me from the twilight. I know the twilight well.” She does not say this indignantly, but rather as a confirmation of Shava’s words. A small token of understanding between them.

“I apologize for my mistreatment of your aid,” she says. “I...struggle with taking orders.” Orders has cost her her sight. And her brother. Orders had cost her everything. “I understand now that you meant to help.”

*Shrugs, unperturbed by Sydney's reactions.* It is not me that is hurt and affected by your demons. Those chains only bind you.

*She stands up out of the pool and walks to Sydney. Her stance exudes confidence and ease. A stark contrast to Sydney's discomfort. She places a hand gently on her cheek*

You are brave, my love. But bravery without vulnerability will not save you from your past.

*She drops her hand and begins to walk away* Come find me when you're ready. We will see if we can find you a piece of solace.

Solace?

Sydney thought she had found solace, but now she is uncertain. Now, observing Shava, she is uncertain she ever before understood what solace meant. Is this solace? This implacable exterior? Or is there turmoil beneath the woman’s surface? And if so, whose turmoil is it?

Ashamed, Sydney turns her face to her lap as Shava walks away. Even as she does, a familiar platinum burning fills her chest. Unworthy though she feels, she cannot deny Bahamut. She lets the warmth course through her. Fiery. Empowering. A source of magic. She is merely its conductor.

Rising, she crosses the room to Shava. “I would like to speak to my brother,” she says. “If you can find him. But first...I will put on dry clothes.”

*Shava can pick up on the subtle change. She finds it intriguing, but says nothing of it. She half smiles at the girl and nods.*

If that's how you best feel comfortable. I suppose I'll go find us a place that is quiet.

*She runs her fingers through her wet hair, shaking it vigorously. She then reaches into her bag and draws out a floor length cloak. The body is made of a soft, flowing material. It seems out of place compared to her normal garb. The fabric slinks around her, draping sensually over the curve of her breasts and buttocks. The color is an iridescent black that shimmers blue, green and purple as is moves in the light. Shava fastens the long clasp together. It lays perfectly over her front as to cover her nipples while leaving the rest of her chest bare.
She then grabs a length of fabric from her pack made of the same strange clothe. She takes this and ties it around her waist. It hangs loosely and flows just as sensually.

In a matter of moments she has made herself seem utterly snake like. She braids her thick and long black hair into a single plate that ends at the small of her back. She then reaches for her staff and slinks to the guard at the entrance of the room. Every inch of her a seductress.*

In stark contrast, Sydney finds herself a dim corner and swaps clothing as swiftly as possible. Her face is red by the end of the ordeal, but she feels much better now. Modesty—or dignity—be damned. She lays her clothes out to dry before glancing around for Shava.

She nearly tips over in shock when she locates the woman.

Not knowing whether to hang back or approach, she moves closer while maintaining some distance. She can’t help but stare in shock as Shava approaches the guard. Where did she find clothes like that?

*Shava is quietly whispering to the guard. Her hand lightly brushes against his several times. As she talks his eyes struggle to stay focused on her face. He is red from cheek to ear and his eyes are greedy. The exchange lasts a few moments, ending with a raspy murmur of thanks from Shava. She turns back and finds Sydney watching her. She joins her.*

I've secured us a private room. Are you ready?

Sydney glances to the guard, then to Shava, but does not press.

“I am ready, yes.”

*Nods and motions to the guard to lead them. They follow him out of the bath room into a dimly lit corridor. You can hear the roar of the crowds in the distance. They follow him to a small room with light dancing in from a small window. Shava touches the man's arm in thanks and gives him a wink. He nods in response and leaves them.

She walks into the room and takes it in. After a moment she closes her eyes and starts murmuring. Her free hand holding onto a small bag that she shake softly. After doing this for a minute she stops and looks at Sydney.*

This will do. They are aware of us.

*She flips her cloak around her and lightly melts to the floor, crossing her legs. She motions for Sydney to join her.*

Sydney does, but as she does she swivels her head around the room. This place, this arena, these people who run it, are not things to be trusted. She looks to be on high alert, not nervous, simply aware. She crosses her legs as well and looks to Shava.

“What do you need me to do?”