Mixing Beastblood - Ch. 5

Mixing Beastblood
Chapter Five – The Promise

“Heck of a place for a meeting, Kitten.”

Di'kana chuckled softly at Farkas's complaint; or maybe it was just a comment to get words into the air and begin the conversation. All the same, she was pleased to see him out here-- afternoon light cast an orange haze over the plains that surrounded Whiterun, something she and he had a rather grand view of. She'd invited him to come and meet her on the bridge that was just past the sign-post for Riften, the near-by meadery saturating the area in the sweet smell of honey that reminded of the celebration the night before. Water that rushed down the mountains flowed beneath the bridge, providing a back-drop of white noise that was both soothing and just loud enough to discourage eavesdropping from even the most determined individual. One might have even called the location romantic, if one wanted to sound foolish.

Occasionally, she was that.

“You got this one's invitation, and came. As good a place as any, away from prying eyes and ears.”

“What's this about, Di'kana?”

Right to the point, as always. She appreciated that about him, nodding slightly and accepting that bandying about the issue was not worthwhile. As he approached her on the bridge, joining her at the height of its arc, leaning on the edge where the water flowed out into the river and calmed from the mountain's haste, she reached into a pouch on her hip to fetch something. He watched, seeing that she'd gotten some kind of object out, but it was enclosed in her palm, not shown to him yet as she looked up once more.

“This one goes to hunt with Aela tomorrow, maybe to be gone for a long while.”

“I heard.” Farkas nodded. “Dawnstar. It's quite the trip. Is that why you wanted me out here? A little time alone before you disappear on me?”

“In part.” She nodded a little, motioning for him to hold out his hand. He didn't understand why, but did it anyway, opening up his palm and waiting for whatever it was she wanted to do. From her hand, the object she'd pulled out was transferred from her grasp to his.

It was her amulet. The amulet of Mara that she'd been wearing since joining the Companions. She'd told him it was to remind her that life was short, so it was best to enjoy it while one could. Usually she kept it tucked away, under her armor and clothes and away from view. He was fairly certain that he was one of the select few who had actually seen it and confirmed what it was, save that visit she'd had with Ri'saad where she'd worn it as decoration. However, something had been changed about it since the last time he'd seen it. On the back, it had been engraved with an image-- a tiny cat and a shaggy wolf, sitting side-by-side. This changed it, made it specifically hers... and his, he realized. She'd taken the effort to make it unique, playing on their nicknames for each other-- and now...?

“You're giving this to me? Why?”

“This one engaged you for play, but it has become more than that... there is feeling here.” She swallowed, glancing downwards as she reflected. This was what she'd gone to Eorlund for, besides getting her new weapon. She'd asked him to engrave this little image on the back of her amulet to make it special. Since then, she'd been practicing in her head what she was going to say. She didn't want to ruin it with the odd way she talked in common; she wanted to be clear and direct. “I feel for you. More intensely than was thought would happen. I do not want anyone else to see me wear that. No one, no one but you. I do not want anyone else, so... you will hold that until I decide if Skyrim is home. If I do, I will ask for it back. If not, you will have something to remember Di'kana by.”

“I won't have to remember you.”

His response was something that came quickly, without forethought. Her head jerked up to him, what she imagined would have been said getting derailed. Her amulet still lay in his open palm, but the other hand reached to rub the side of her face, smoothing back the fur of her cheek and shaking his head at her.

“If you leave to try and take on the world and find your family, I'm going with you. Even if you tried to take off without me, I've got your scent-- I'd follow you.”

“... you'd leave your family to chase mine?” Slow, stumbling language that had trouble comprehending. Why would he do that for her? “Y-your brother...”

“Vilkas would understand.” Farkas batted back in an instant. “If you feel this way about me, I'd be stupid to let you go... lot of people think I am stupid, but you know me better. More important, I know you-- wherever you go, it's going to be an adventure. Story is already pretty good, I want to know what happens next.”

She felt as if her jaw might fall away from her face, the way it hung slack. She might have trembled for the way her pulse pounded through her neck and chest, making her feel as if her heart were in her throat. The pink tip of her tongue dashed out a moment, wetting her lips as she searched for words. The ones she'd rehearsed no longer applied. She'd been ready to argue, ready to accept rejection if it had finally come, but this? To have him accept so readily? To commit?

She had not been ready for that. It made her re-think her own position. Re-think why she was doing this.

Her hands moved, to fold his hand closed over her amulet. “Keep it.” She stressed to him. “... this one... she will ask for it when she intends to wed. Keep it as a promise, that it will be you... that you will wait for her until she is ready.”

He looked down to where she'd pressed his fingers over it, and back up to her earnest expression. This had gone from a promise that she wasn't going to mess around with anyone else to something much bigger... and yet, the transition felt natural. Right. If she were a Nord, they probably would have tied the knot a while ago, back when they first started making each other smile. Back when he'd first started respecting her as a warrior, which hadn't taken long at all.

If she'd asked him right then, the answer would have been yes... and he wasn't the type to change his mind over time.

“You and me, huh? … I can see it. Just try not to die before then, Di'kana.”

His head dipped down, bumping his nose against hers. It was a simple show of affection, and the sound of her purring vibrated through her breastplate in response.

“Your Kitten will be safe, dear Wolf.” She promised. “Stay safe as well?”

“I'll do the best that I know how.”

“Good.” She nodded, a strange satisfaction coming over her for all of this. Stepping away from their soft exchange of hushed words, she turned her attention outwards, looking to continue down the road and bring him with her. “Now, follow this one-- there is word that bandits have taken over a tower this way... it would be wise to learn the swing of my axe on lesser fighters before facing greater battles.”

That got him to grin. “Take it easy with the sweet talk, Kitten, I already said yes.” Falling in step with her, he decided the way she'd been keeping the amulet would work just as well for him. It went over his head, rough crop of hair thrown out and over the twine the amulet hung upon before tucking it under his armor and clothes. “Let's go crack some skulls.”

---------------------------------------------------

“Right on time. Eager to see the road?”

Just as Aela said, she was awaiting Di'kana at the gate before first light, bow slung on her back and a sword hanging from her belt. Over her shoulder were saddlebags, bulging with provisions for the journey-- a thought they had in common. Aela had not mentioned them riding, but Di'kana had brought her necessities within saddlebags for her own horse that was housed at the Whiterun stables. She had figured whether Aela rode or not, a horse would lessen the burden of anything collected along the way.

Like herbs. So many herbs.

“This one was born on the road. It is home, in a sense.” She answered.

“Born on the road...? Do you mean that literally? Or is that just a way to say your family are traveling traders?” Aela asked as the pair of them moved to pass through the gate and out of Whiterun. At this early hour, when the night guards awaited their relief and the braziers burnt the last of their fuel for the eve, the city was almost disturbingly quiet. Those few who stirred were the laborers who worked on the farms outside the city, but lived within, heading out to their day of work on the fields to keep Whiterun fed. Heading outside, the world was so quiet, so silent, the birds of the dark silencing for sleep, the birds of the day not yet risen. If a Khajiit were to make a dishonest living, this would be the thieving hour; this hour that came just before dawn.

“Quite literally.” Di'kana answered as they descended down the slope towards the stables. “Some groups of traders band together into a larger caravan for safety in numbers-- father was raised in such a group, and continued it when he grew. There were several others who traveled with him, and they all profited from wagons and mules to pull them. When mother joined him on his travels it did not take long before she was carrying this one. My arrival came while she was riding in a wagon with the goods.”

“They didn't stop in a town and wait when it was getting close to time?”

“Khajiit pregnancy can be unpredictable. This one came a moon before her time, born small, but very much alive.”

“Truly?” Aela could not help a laugh as she shook her head. “A fighter from birth, then. Your life is like a tale. The unlikely hero who never does what's expected.”

“What of your family?” Di'kana quested, curious. “This one rarely hears the companions speak of those who birthed them.”

“I come from a long line of shield sisters.” Aela answered as they approached the stables, altering her path to a chestnut mare who, unlike some of the others in their stalls, was awake and nickering, as if her mistress were later than expected during this quiet hour. Saddlebags were laid to the side for the moment, bridling and slipping a bit into her mount's mouth and putting a wool saddle blanket over the mare's back, followed by the process of strapping on the saddle itself after hefting it from where it was stored on the edge of the stall. “My mother, her mother before her, and her mother before her-- and so on. I lived with my father in the woods, hunting all that could be hunted, until it was time for my trial. Ma didn't live to see me join... but I honor her now. I know that. To me, there is no greater tradition she could have passed down into my hands.”

“What of your father?”

“He's somewhere in the wide world.”

“He didn't join with your mother?” Di'kana, too, had put herself to the task of preparing her horse. It started with waking the stocky white mare, a gentle hand passing over the animal's black-speckled coat until its head twisted a little to look and acknowledge her.

“Father wasn't the sort. Hunter, he was. Warrior, he was not. He would draw a bow on a deer, kill it, skin it, use every inch of it from horn to hoof, but he didn't have the stomach to kill men, or kill beasts who had no purpose and done him no harm. Sometimes... that is what must be done.”

Aela went quiet after that-- Di'kana sensed a further story, but didn't chase it. There was something she wasn't saying, and whatever the reasons, they would be respected. Making the horses ready was the task focused upon instead of conversation, saddlebags slung up and belongings secured before mounting; just as first light began to creep up over the mountain peaks to the east.

Aela took the lead at first, trotting down the slope and striking off to the west where the road split. Then, when it split again, turning once more towards the north to cross the bridge and begin their long journey towards Dawnstar. The main road begun, Di'kana pressed her horse to come along side her shield-sister and ride even with her.

“So many pieces of armor.” Aela marveled, shaking her head at the veritable racket Di'kana made as her horse moved. “How do you not cook in the sun?”

“How do you not freeze?” Di'kana quested back, looking to Aela and her rather generous expanses of bare skin. “... Khajiit are native to much warmer places. The cold does not agree with us.”

“Cold?” Aela laughed. “You do know where we're going, right?”

“This one does. Do you?”

“I'll layer up as we pass Windhelm.” Aela assured. “So if you're a warm-weather people, what's the fur for? You'd think it would keep you warm.”

“It is more to keep the sun away from the skin. The light of it is strong in Elsweyr... or so this one hears. The fur protects from harsh light, not harsh cold.”

“Have you never been there?”

“... this one was born on the road.” Di'kana reported, again, with a shrug. She'd never been further south than Cyrodil. “Daughter of a trader who refuses to deal in skooma. This one will let you guess what other goods come out of Elsweyr, but you will not need many tries. Such an honest living is not of great profit... Father hoped to take this one to see the sands, one day, and the jungles, but...”

“I see... at least you can have pride that he was honest and honorable, though. Not many children can claim that of their parents. The world has a short supply of good people, and even one who means to be good can end up corrupted.”

“True enough.” Di'kana agreed, shifting in her saddle, lifting her tail from where it had rested to one side to rest it the other way. “The caravan grew rather large, almost like a small village that never held still. Father gathered other Khajiit who wanted to escape the way people judged them, or the clutches of their addictions. Mother was one of those-- years of skooma had made her fragile, but father helped her become well again.”

“Honorable indeed.” Aela marveled. “That's a linage to be proud of, Kitten, believe you me.”  

Di'kana nodded, going quiet as she glanced to the left, to the east, to where the sun was rising up and throwing Whiterun's shape into sharp contrast against the brightening sky. If she squinted her eyes against the light, she could spy the shape of Jorrvaskr just over the top of the wall, and the billow of smoke that came from Tilmo adding logs to the fire first thing in the morning. From here, it looked so small, a little cloud of gray that rose up and dissipated into the deep purple dawn. In not much longer, they would pass into a valley between mountains, and Whiterun would vanish entirely. Until then, Di'kana would look at it, and wonder what Farkas was doing.

Wonder if he was lonely without her.

“Missing him already?”

Aela's voice was knowing. She'd walked in on them, after all, before Di'kana had been fully recovered. When they'd been entrenched in eachother's arms, half-dressed and wanting with the pursuit.

“This one made a promise to him.” She answered with a nod. “She thought it would ease the mind over the distance... instead, the craving is only more intense.”

“He'll be there when you get back, sister. He's strong, and Vilkas will keep him from doing anything stupid before we get back.”

“He offered to follow... if this one left.”

“You're still considering leaving?” Aela's voice carried a note of surprise.

“Not presently. A letter has been sent to confirm if it this one's family at the border. If contact is made, letters can be exchanged until the end of Skyrim's war. When the borders open... that is when the choice must be made.”

“And Farkas offered to go with you?”

“Insisted, more like.” Di'kana laughed faintly.

She was surprised to find herself joined-- Aela's laugh was a loud and proud thing, let loose without reservation.

“... it is that funny?”

“The funny part is Vilkas doesn't have a clue. He knows you two have taken a liking to one another, but I don't think he ever dreamed his brother would ever fall for anything besides the joy of the fight. The look on his face when he finds out... oh, oh that's going to be rich. Can I be there when you finally tell him?”

“... it may be some time.”

“That's alright. I don't intend on dying anytime soon.”

“Warriors rarely do.”

“True, but few warriors know the world as I know it.” Aela smirked as Di'kana's gaze finally tore away from Whiterun's silhouette, returning her attention to the road and their journey. “I've stalked prey as the saber does, ripped and torn with teeth, and flirted with death with no armor on my body, nothing but fang and claw to fight with. Walking such a razor's edge leads to a greater understanding of the fight, a greater awareness of opportunity and tells... and I doubt many love the hunt as I do.”

Di'kana blinked. She'd been warned not to ask too many questions, and yet Aela spoke freely, proudly of her beast. She had expected it might have taken several days into this journey to find an opportunity for her questions, but here it was-- she would take it.

“You run often as a wolf?”

“Some would argue too often.” Aela confirmed with a faint grumble. “Skjor and I go many nights a week; so often we've disappeared together that there's rumor among the whelps that we are involved with one another. Kodlak worries that we stir up the rumors, that the guards hear our howling as we revel in the blood and suspect that all may not be as it seems at Jorrvaskr, but such are the musing of a too-careful old man. We are not mindless when we hunt, we know to stay away from the city, know to only hunt that which will not be missed.”

A pause intervened, before Aela let out a sound of relief.

“You've no idea how good it feels to be able to explain that-- the younger Companions don't know of the blood, and coming up with excuses when pressed is trying. You've no idea how difficult it is to dissuade Ria when she's convinced Skjor and I are sneaking off to bed together.”

“No?” Di'kana quested, silver-penciled brow arching up high over blue eyes. “This one thinks otherwise-- she is quite adamant with her ideas of whom is sweet for whom... give Ria a quill, she would likely write our stories as romantic epics of love and war. When telling the story of this one's trial, she insisted that Farkas's life was saved by this one many times over, taking harm to save him from any. Let Ria tell that story, and perchance we fell in love in the moonlight while returning to Whiterun.”

“Is that wrong in your case?” Aela quested. “I mean... you two were all but inseparable after that.”

“Shhhh....” Di'kana hushed, waving a gauntleted hand. “Ria cannot know that; she would never quiet about it.”

Again, the two women laughed together. At the very least, the journey was promising to be pleasant for the company.