@Marakai Trin Crying was a sign of weakness. Even at the age of seven she knew that. So when she felt the tears coming on, Amaya had run from the temple that her family called home, ducking into the thick jungle that surrounded her village and heading northeast down the side of the small mountain, eyes blurry and breath sniffling as she stumbled and fell, got up, then stumbled again until she finally came to the stream, a tributary of the small river that fed her home's water supply.
Even at seven she knew all this: where her people got their water, what they hunted and gathered best, how they were trained to fight, what weapons they used best, even how many babies had been born in the last six months.
She knew it all, but it meant nothing to her. Well- it didn't mean
nothing. She just wished it did. Wished she could just be like the other little girls in the village, shrieking with giggles as they played their sing-song games in the village square, chasing each other through the gardens that surrounded the temple.
But she couldn't. By virtue of who and what she was, she knew she couldn't be like the other children, no matter how much she wanted to. She collapsed on the bank of the stream, panting and crying quietly. At least she'd gotten some distance from the village before she completely broke down.
She couldn't even remember now what had set her off- and it didn't really matter. She just needed to pull herself together so she could return and once again act her part.
She stared down at her reflection, distorted by the gentle current of the stream. Her tears subsided gradually, replaced by a solemn glare. Suddenly, without her fully conscious decision, she found her fingers clawing at her forehead, at the crowning horns that adorned her brow. Even when she broke skin, blood trickling from between her claws down over her brows, dripping onto the water of the stream, she continued to scratch and cry quietly.
Seven years, he'd lived with the old woman on the mountain. Some said she was a witch - often enough, she'd been visited by the people of the isle and those surrounding it, and they would address her so. But he called her mother...despite the old woman's protests.
She said he was not her child, but instead was a miracle of magic, a being that proved that just because some beings were inherently evil, it didn't have to mean that evil was all they could be. His existence and his innocent view on the world proved this, she said.
On this day, he was told his purpose in life. The old woman had told him, just before he was formed, she had given the leaders of a particular village magical aid in begetting a child, and shortly after had a vision of the baby that would be born. The baby would grow into a young girl, tasked with much on her shoulders, more than a normal child aught to have. And so, he was created to be her friend, her companion, and her guardian. This very morning, he had sworn to be all three.
And so she sent him off to find her, no tears in her eyes but a smile upon her aged face. He'd been given nothing but a name.
Ichiko Amaya. She would be known to him as Amaya.
So he found himself following the mountain stream, continually down the mountain. Eventually, he had to stop, his ears picking up a sound.
The young boy, his skin bronzed by the sun and patched with blue and black scales, glanced back and forth with golden, reptilian eyes. The red frill upon his head caught the light just so, the webbed membrane becoming nearly translucent to show the spines within. He looked further down the stream, a forked tongue darting from between his lips to taste the air.
....blood. That's what he sensed. He began moving again, small clawed feet splashing in the stream. After a moment, he followed the curve of the stream and after passing the trees, he saw her.
A little girl, his age. She had horns, and clawed fingers. This...had to be her.
His golden eyes blinked, and he hurried towards her side. From just a few feet away, he could see the trickle of blood down her brow, and when he was close enough, he seized her wrist and pulled her hand away from her head.
"Don't to that... You're bleeding. Amaya."
He smiled down at her, forked tongue hidden behind white teeth. "Hi. My name is Mizaakarn."
Amaya gasped, startled that she hadn't heard or sensed another's approach. She flinched back from the strange hand, she stared up at who had stopped her attempt at self mutilation.
She blinked, rubbed her eyes with the heels of her hand, winced as blood dripped from her fingertips onto the bridge of her nose, then blinked again.
A boy. Her age, she thought. But...different. Very different from what she'd come to expect in other children.
"Mizaa...karn," she repeated slowly, her voice thick. She sniffed and swiped the back of her hand under her eyes. She must look like such a fright, all puffy eyes, runny nose, and blood trickling from the wounds she'd scoured around her horns.
"How- how do you know my name?" she murmured, staring up at him. "You aren't from here..."
Mizaakarn smiled down at her. "Mee-zuh-karn. You can call me Mizaak. Mother always did." His golden eyes shone with the light reflecting up from the water, and he blinked one time. "I was told your name by Mother...um...the witch." He turned and gestured up the mountain, pointing towards the peak.
"I was sent to find you. Moth- I mean the witch said I was supposed to be your friend and garden...goden...Guardian? Yes. I'm glad I was able to find you so quickly. But...why were you crying?"
He knelt down in front of her, both clawed hands resting on his knee, his other leg flat on the sandy riverbed.
"Oh....here. Let me fix your cuts." He turned one hand palm up, and with the other cut a line across his palm...but instead of the red blood of a man, what appeared to be water welled up around the cut.
He held his hand up to her, water dripping from his palm in a trickle.
Amaya gasped again, both at the fact that he'd cut himself and that he didn't seem to be...well, bleeding. "Wh-why did you do that?"
She grabbed for his hand, childish fingers wrapping around his as she peered down at his palm.
Mizaak giggled a little bit, and wrested his hand away from hers to hold it over her head. "This is why!" If he were to be her friend and Guardian, he'd start now - by healing her.
The water-seeming blood would drip over her cuts, and with a shimmer they would disappear. The water would sink into the gouges, the skin knitting together instantly.
"...can't be a good Guardian if you're hurt." He smiled at her again, and then dunked his hand in the stream, and then held it up for her inspection. The cut was gone.
"See? No harm done!"
Her eyes widened and Amaya gasped. She stared at the stranger- no, Mizaak- then shook her head slowly.
"Magic," she whispered. It was elemental magic, which she'd always been taught was a twisting of the natural order...but it was also healing, which was divine and good.
Slowly, she started to smile. A little shakily, she got to her feet and held her hand out to him.
"Come with me."
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Amaya blinked, coming back to herself. She was staring at her reflection again, but this was no rippling stream, the image of her face distorted in the water. This was polished glass, set in a gold and silver hand mirror that she set aside her bedroll with a sigh.
She hardly recognized the reflection staring back at her anymore. The round faced, wide-eyed girl was gone, replaced with a full mouth, high cheekbones, and eyes that were far older than her years.
Well. The face paint her mother had applied had done something to lessen that effect, highlighting her lips in red and adding to the rosiness of her cheeks, dark kohl accentuating the almond shape of her eyes. It took everything she had not to raise the sleeve of her kimono and scrub it all off.
With a soft breath, she straightened her shoulders and slipped through the door to her room, moving in a nearly soundless glide down the hall of the temple.
If she was lucky, she could slip out to the gardens before the day really started.
The boy that had been was now a man, standing nearly statuesque outside a certain young woman's door the same way he had for these past fourteen years. Just as Amaya had changed, time had had its way with Mizaak as well.
He'd grown massive over the years, having grown a height that allowed him to tower over everyone on the populace. He'd broadened as well, and filled his frame with powerful muscle. Over the years, the less human side of him seemed to have rose closer to the surface, as more and more patches of blue and black scales emerged from his flesh.
In time, he'd worried that he'd become all monster, all the time. But the growth of scales seemed to have lessened in the last several years.
He stood in the hall, barefoot with his clawed toes clicking on the stone floor every minute or so, a crude way of keeping time. One large fist was wrapped around a steel trident, a gift sent from his mother (he'd come to refer to her as such no matter what she said) upon his thirteenth birthday. He saw it as a fitting weapon, and carried it everywhere. Especially when he stood guard for Amaya.
....and speaking of Amaya, her door had just opened soundlessly beside him, and he seemed not to see him as she slipped away. His broad face split into a smile, and his forked tongue darted out one time before he called to her.
"....you might avoid getting caught this time, Amaya," he said, his voice rumbling from behind her. "You know you've got a schedule to keep....blasted thing."
He stepped forth from his little alcove, walking after her.
"....I'll make sure you don't get caught this time, though. What do you say?" He smiled broadly, his white teeth a contrast to his bronzed flesh.
"Spirits!" Amaya's hand flew to her heart and she whirled, eyes wide, then quickly narrowing to glower at Mizaak.
"You enjoy startling me, don't you?" she accused under her breath. Without waiting for him to reply, she cast an almost furtive glance from side to side and took a step backward down the hall. "Come on, then, and hurry up."
She sighed and rubbed at her temples, forcing herself to be careful of the elegant coiffure that had been made of her hair, adorned with a decorative comb and a jade hairpin.
"Just an hour," she muttered. "I just want an hour before the ceremony starts..."
It was barely daybreak, but she'd been up for several hours already, preparing for the harvest festival that would begin with her family's blessing of the village. And because she was Amaya Ichiko, Chosen Among Mortals, she of course had to oversee the whole thing, and provide the chants, the prayers that would call favors from the natural world around them.
"Startling you? You know...I've stood outside your door every day for the last....what, fourteen years, now? The date of that day is quickly approaching." He let out a chuckle, his deep baritone echoing in the hall before he caught it and cut it off.
He settled with a wide toothy grin and fell into step beside her.
"You chose excellent raiments for the festival. The very picture of elegance. I feel out of place walking by your side today, you know." His golden eyes flicked downward to look to her, his lips still smiling.
"So...what have you got planned for your one hour of privacy? Or do you simply seek peace before the festivities?"
"Yes- and every day for fourteen years you've insisted on tucking yourself into that little alcove like some sort of sneak-thief...though honestly how you eve fit anymore is a mystery that baffles me," she muttered, rolling her eyes and resisting the urge to stick her tongue out at him childishly.
His question brought another sigh and she raised a hand to drag down her face, then caught herself and shook her head. "I just need a few moments' quiet, that's all," she murmured, turning down the hall that would lead them out into the small temple's courtyard.
His amusement was far more discreet this time, just a quiet chuckle that took place more in his nose and throat than his mouth. "Well, where else am I supposed to guard you from? Right outside your door is the furthest I dare go, and I am not allowed within your chambers. I daresay that I'll somehow have to move a bed within that alcove as well, with the hours that you're made to keep."
He rounded the corner with her, his trident held easily at his side, careful not to tap it's butt on the stone. He could see the light of the breaking dawn ahead.
"Hmm. Odd that there's no one scampering about this morning. Perhaps you're in luck - nobody will even know you're out of your room except us."
He stepped into the garden with her, but remained at the entryway. "Peace and quiet awaits. I'll let you know if anyone comes, Amaya, so take your time."
She gave him a small smile and nodded. "Thank you, my friend. I won't be long."
She stepped out from under the half covered porch into the courtyard, a peaceful garden of winding stones and the occasional small plant, with a koi pond in the center.
Mizaak stood guard, as always, the blunt end of his trident planted on the ground. With his coloration and complete lack of motion, one could almost mistake him for a bronze statue. The only movements he made were that of his eyes, keeping himself occupied by simply taking in the scenery.
Mizaak had an epic amount of patience. Over the course of the last years, he'd discovered that within his sight range of the little alcove he'd occupied, he could count three thousand four hundred seventy six bricks, including the stonework on the floor and the large slabs that made up the ceiling.
There was no such thing to count here, so he settled with simply taking in every minute details of the plants and flowers in his field of view. He could hear nothing, save for the occasional small splash as the koi rose briefly to the water.
Mizaak let out a contented sigh and smiled to himself. His duty tended to be very drab, but he was happy with it. So long as he was near her and she was safe, he was content.
Amaya made her way through the garden to sit herself beside the pond, legs curled to the side as she traced her fingertip over the surface of the water.
A few of the older fish, massive creatures with strong spirits in their own right, rose to the surface and suckled at her finger, thinking she might have brought them food. She smiled and tapped their scaly heads, then settled back with a sigh.
She looked over her shoulder. "Mizaak." She held a hand out to him. "Come here?"
The large man turned his head at the sound of his name, seeing her reaching toward him. He smiled fondly at her, and stepped lightly onto the first of the stones that made up the path through the garden. He made his was in her direction, moving with deliberate slowness to avoid disturbing anything.
In a moment, he stood above her. "Yes, Amaya? What is it?" he asked, his voice quiet to avoid disturbing the sanctity of the environment.
She smiled and patted the ground beside her. "Just sit with me. Take a break, just for a few moments. Spirits know youbprobably need it even more than I do."
He chuckled a bit, and did as she bid him to, settling down to sit with his legs crossed over one another. He laid his trident down behind him, and released his grip on it for the first time since he'd risen hours before.
"Thank you. Though standing in one place isn't exactly strenuous work." He turned his head and grinned at her, before he turned his attention to the water.
Unlike her, when he dipped his finger into the water, the koi all immediately fled to the opposite side of the pond, and he sighed. Part of him was a natural predator to these fish, and all others.
He glanced up at Amaya with a small smile. "Well, at least I've still got a friend in you. Pity the koi can't tell the difference, though. For all their wisdom, they still can't tell thendifference between the monster and the man."
Amaya frowned at him and reached to lay her hand over his.
"They're fish, Mizaak. Creatures powerful in spirit, but they survive on instinct." She smiled. "Anyone with sense can see what you really are."
She glanced at the pond again and her expression fell slightly. The horns that circle her brow bore a ragged red line near their base, a scar that had never quite healed properly.
She shook her head. "You're no more monster than I."
He turned his hand under hers to grip her fingers in his, smiling gently at her reflection in the water. He too saw the scar, but his thoughts of that memory were fond ones. He knew how she'd gotten that scar, and it was their meeting that had stopped it from getting worse.
He touched a finger from his free hand to her refection in the koi pond, gentle ripples spreading from the contact. "Perhaps now. But the water shows the truth of me. You, at least, don't have to deal with that."
He looked away from her reflection to look at the woman who had cast it, and smiled. "No matter, though. You could have wings, a tail, and nine eyes and I wouldn't think less of you for it. We can be monsters together."
She chuckled softly and leaned into his side a bit with a small sigh. "Perhaps," she murmured, letting her eyes close for a moment.
"Amaya? Amaya!"
She groaned, tigtening her grip on his hand for a moment before releasing him to get to her feet. "And that would be my cue," she sighed, resisting the urge to rub at her face.
Mizaak sighed and stood with her.
These were the moments he truly lived for, those where they could drop their respective public faces and simply be the friends they'd grown to be. But every time, those moments were cut short.
"So much for an hour..." He mumbled, bending to pick up his trident. When he straightened, he laid a comforting hand on her shoulder, surprisingly gentle despite his great size. "Well, let's go then. Maybe once we get the important parts of the festival finished, we can sneak out to make our way to our stream. I'll sneak you out."
Amaya smiled and laid her hand over his for a moment.
"I'd like that," she murmured. "I- I'd really like that." She sighed and shook her head, stepping away. "But I'm not sure we'll be able to-"
"Amaya!"
She closed her eyes and took a breath. "Yes, Mother, I'm coming!" she called back toward the temple door, her voice sweet and calm despite the obvious irritation setting into her shoulder.
She took another fortifying breath and nodded at Mizaak. "Come on. Let's head back in before she come to find us."
Mizaak nodded rather sagely. "Yes, let's. I'd rather like to remain in her good graces." He lifted his trident and looked towards the entryway to the temple, and sighed. "It's going to be a long day..."
He released her shoulder and began walking just a few paces behind her, putting on the professional facade once again as they headed back into public view.
If one had seen the transition, they'd be shocked - gone was the easy smile and jovial eyes, replaced instead with a grim look that promised pain to any that would dare seek harm towards Amaya.
Not that it had ever happened, but he'd rather keep it that way.
"Amaya, goodness. What were you doing?" Emiko took her daughter's shoulders and tilted her head back slightly with the tip of her finger as though checking for harm.
As if she could have hurt herself simply walking to and from the courtyard.
"We were just enjoying the sunrise, Mother," she replied pleasantly, smiling slightly.
Emiko sighed and stroked her hair- lightly, careful not to disturb the combs and pins. "Alright. Just- don't worry me like that. I went to your room to fetch you and you were gone."
Amaya dropped her eyes. "Yes, Mother. I'm sorry."
Her mother leaned in to kiss her forehead, or rather the air just above it, then looked to Mizaak. "Will you see she's at the entrance to the temple within the hour? I have to fetch Akira."
Mizaak grimaced slightly when Akira began checking Amaya, as if he would at all slight his duty to her. He caught himself as quickly as (in)humanly possible, his face back to its professional state when she looked to address him.
When she asked him to esckrt Amaya, his free hand thumped a large fist against his chest, and he bowed at the waist until his upper body was parallel with the ground. From his bowed position, he spoke.
"I will see to it, Madam Emiko. She will arrive then as perfect as she is now."
No matter his familiarity with Amaya's family, he was always sure to show them the respect they deserved.
But they didn't need to know that, bowing to Amaya, he would prostrate himself upon the floor if anyone dared to bow lower than him. To him, she came first, above all. Everything else was secondary.
Emiko smiled at him, obviously a little rushed and flustered, and clasped her hands in front of her body, inclining her head and shoulders just slightly in a bow that returned the respect with which he addressed her but obviously maintained her position of authority in the conversation.
"Thank you, Mizaak, as always." Another almost-kiss to Amaya's forehead and she continued on down the hallway.
Amaya took a breath, then let it out slowly. "Come on," she murmured. "We'd better get to our places."
Mizaak straightened from his bow, having held it until Emiko was out of sight around a corner. "Yes, I suppose we should. After all, now it's my head that will roll if you're not present." He smirked and winked at her.
"Well. Lead on, then. I suppose I should stay at your back until we get there, as the temple seems roused at last."
"Yes, I suppose we should," Amaya sighed. She straightened her shoulders and picked up her pace a bit, making her way through the winding wooden halls of the temple toward the front entrance.
He smiled as she squared her shoulders, and he lowered his voice to a whisper as they entered the temple proper. "There's the Chosen One. Let me know when Amaya's allowed to come out again, my Lady." He let out a quiet snicker, cutting it off quickly as they neared a couple temple maidens, who gave the two of them a wide berth when they drew near.
It was amazing how quickly he could switch personas when he had to, the two women catching sight of naught but his steely, forward facing gaze. His golden eyes remained resolutely on the path ahead, his gaze unwavering.
She had to fight the urge to make a face at him, managing to keep her face blank as they passed the two priestesses.
"If I scare some temple servant by bursting out laughing in the middle of the ceremony, I'm going to blame you," she informed Mizaak quietly.
He didn't reply to her until they turned a corner and he was sure they had the corridor to themselves. When he was positive the coast was clear, he whispered back to her as low as he could manage while still allowing her to hear him.
"Well, then stay focused on all the boring stuff, and forget about me standing behind you, making faces at your back during the ceremony!"
He had to resist the urge to snicker again as they drew close to the main doors. He did risk to whisper one more time, though.
"If you've got to laugh, do it now before we get outside. And no, I won't be making faces at you, please don't think about that. I'm not that crass, so perish the thought while you're able!"
In their last few moments alone, Amaya rolled her eyes and half twisted to thump his arm lightly. "Shame on you," she muttered, but it was clear she was holding back a smile.
Then she quickly schooled her expression back into a pleasantly serene mask and turned the last corner to the open entryway into the temple.
It was still early, so only a handful of villagers had gathered, murmuring personal prayers to the several small shrines that lined the walkway or talking quietly among themselves. When Amaya appeared, however, a subtle hush washed over them, and most inclined their heads respectfully.
Mizaak could hear the smile that she was holding from her face, but as near as they were to the entryway and the outside area beyond, he didn't dare smile back.
He followed her outside, and stepped just to the side of the open doorway. He planted the butt of his trident on the paved stonework, and stood rigidly in the background, back straight and eyes surveying those who had arrived early.
The light of early morning cast itself upon his bronzed skin, once again making a statue of him as he remained completely motionless, standing guard over Amaya while keeping the distance necessary to allow all attention to focus on her.
Amaya had to steel herself, setting her shoulders and lifting her head slightly. Subtle changes, but they worked to give her a subtle air of authority, elegance.
She smiled a bit and the villagers continued their quiet prayers, more trickling in through the gate every few seconds.
"I don't suppose you've seen my father this morning?" Amaya murmured under her breath, her lips barely moving.
Mizaak replied in kind, his quiet voice just above a whisper but still sounding like the scrape of gravel. "No, not since yesterday. Your mother was meaning to find him, wasn't she?"
Standing as he was, it was difficult to hide the subtle movements of his face as he spoke, and he could only hope that the attention would remain on Amaya.
"We're still a few minutes early yet, but...I'm surprised he isn't here."
The faintest wrinkle between her brows was the only visible sign of a reaction- but that was an intense expression of emotion for her in these sorts of situations.
"Hm. Perhaps he's outside the village..." she murmured.
Nearly half the village was here now, and she had to force herself not to turn when she heard the soft pad of her mother's feet on the wooden floor behind them.
"Where's father?"
"I haven't found him." Emiko sighed quietly and took her place beside her daughter. "We'll have to start soon, whether he's here or not."
Mizaak looked between mother and daughter, a genuine frown settling in his face. This was highly unusual, especially on a day like today.
He hated to part from Amaya for more than a few minutes or the hours absolutely necessary for sleep...but he almost felt as if something were wrong. He took the two steps forward, standing behind and between the two women.
His whispered words would sound quietly in their ears. "If need be, I can seek him out. If he's outside of the village, it worries me that he'd be late...I hate to say it, but something may have happened."
Both Amaya and her mother were quiet for several long moments.
"Would you?" Emiko murmured eventually. "I'm starting to get worried."
Amaya clenched her fists, then winced slightly as her claws pricked at her own palms.
Mizaak nodded to Emiko. "Yes. Please, if you need me for anything, send someone after me. I'll ask about the village first."
Then the pungent scent of Amaya's blood hit his nose, and he frowned. He looked to her hand, and then gripped his free hand into a fist, drawing his own blood with his claws.
As discreetly as possible, he grabbed her hand for a split second to wet it, and nodded to her. "I'll be back just as soon as I can. I'll bring him here." He released her hand again, and clenched his fist again to stop the flow of his water-like blood, and quickly turned to hide the trickle dripping from his hand.
He strode into the gathering crowd, and vanished from view as he left the temple proper.
Amaya started just slightly, then clutched his hand tight in hers for a moment. "Thank you," she whispered as he pulled away.
She watched him go for just a moment, then took a breath and forced a small, beatific smile for the crowd.
When emerged from the back of the crowd, he began catching the stragglers, stopping one or more at a time to question them on Akira's whereabouts, or if they'd even seen them. Some of them looked at him with a measure of fear - he typically wasn't known for his friendliness, and most pulled their opinions of him from his appearance - but all relented and answered his questions.
The chief of the village hadn't been seen in the village for quite some time. Nobody knew where he was. When asked why, Mizaak refused to answer, not wanting too many questions asked.
Eventually he resigned himself to search outside the village, and when he was out of earshot from the buidlings, he began to call for him.
"My Lord Akira!" he shouted, his thunderous voice echoing amongst the trees.
Amaya and Emiko began the ceremony, and though both women were worried, neither showed it. They were too well practiced in this.
Just outside the village, the jungle was quiet. Maybe just a little too quiet.
If Mizaak could pick up a pinprick of Amaya's blood, chances were good that he'd be able to smell the dotted trail that started several yards away from the more well-worn paths through the vegetation, red stains splattered over glossy leaves.
If was only after he forced himself to slow down and focus on his surroundings that he caught the scent of blood. Mizaak turned every which way to determine where the scent of it came from, and eventually he settled on a direction.
He nearly passed the blood-spotted leaves, actually stepping on a few of them. He realized that the scent was following him, and looked to see blood on his feet. He grimaced and turned around to see it.
A trail, headed deeper into the jungle. He didn't have to look to know that it came from the direction of the village. His golden eyes became narrow and hard, the grip on his trident one of iron. He broke into a jog, and began to follow the trail.
He only hoped Akira still lived. There was alot of blood, but so long as he remained on this side of death, Mizaak could bring him back.
The longer it took Mizaak to return, the more on edge Amaya felt herself becoming. The ceremony was a lengthy and elegant procedure, but she's been through it annually since she was ten years old, and was able to go through the motions almost automatically.
She could tell her mother was worried too, but neither woman spoke as they moved through the ritual; they hardly even acknowledged each other, aside from the occasional glance and meeting of eyes.
The trail led deeper into the jungle, down the side of the small mountain that village had climbed over the years. Eventually, it came to a stop with a man sagged against a wide trunk, eyes half closed and hand pressed to his ribs, panting.
Despite the distance he'd run and the massive frame his heart and lungs had to power, Mizaak wasn't even winded when he'd finally come to the end of the trail of blood.
He'd found himself following the coppery scent more than the trail itself, and he noticed that it was finally getting stronger. The end of the trail was near.
But the sight before him gave him pause, as he found Akira slumped against a tree. It took a moment for him to realize he still lived, and he breathed a sigh of relief.
"My Lord!" he said, and jogged the last bit of distance to kneel in front of him. Without care for any kind of protocol, he lifted the older mans hand away from his ribs, dropping his trident and once again cutting open his palm to spill the life-giving water that served as his blood.
He held the trickle of fluid over Akira's wounds. "My Lord...who - or what - did this to you?"
"Mizaak-" Akira's hand moved to the younger man's wrist, attempting to push his hand away weakly. "You know you can't do that," he murmured, voice low and hoarse. "Even this far from the village, you shouldn't be using those powers."
Mizaak had only been seven when Amaya brought him home. It hadn't taken her parents long to realize their daughter's new shadow had the same elemental affinity that she did, and while they were grateful for the healing he could afford her, both had always been nervous about how the rest of the village might react to his strange magic.
Even barely conscious, Akira was trying to protect him. He coughed, the sound wet and rattling, and attempted to use Mizaak's shoulder to pull himself to his feet.
"They're gone. I was on patrol, and I came across-" He groaned and clenched his eyes shut. "Get me home, lad. I need to talk to my wife..."
Mizaak frowned as Akira made to push him away, and remained resolute until at least some of what he tried to give took effect.
"Maybe so, but I can't take the chance of you dying on me. Besides, no one knew you were missing other than your wife, daughter, and myself. No one has to know how seriously you were wounded."
He pulled his hand away, and slid his arm under the elder mans, and then pulled Akira up with him.
"I'll get you home, but the Harvest ceremonies will have commenced by now. Should I bring your wife to you, or take you straight to the temple?" Once he had him standing, he pulled one of Akira's arms over his shoulders, and put his own arm behind the elder mans back to support him, using the shaft of his trident to support them both.
"The temple," Akira gasped, pain adding new lines and ten years to his face. "Call a healer quietly- and if the ceremony hasn't yet finished, inform the guards to return to their posts, as subtly as you can."
He wasn't exactly dead weight, but he wasn't moving very quickly, either, staggering and swaying from blood loss.
Even if Akira had been dead weight, Mizaak was known for his strength. His body had grown and adapted to what his destiny had called for.
And so, he half supported, half carried him back up the incline of the mountain.
"It will be done. But I must know....if there is danger to Amaya, I must know what the danger is."
The older man shook his head. "I don't know, boy, I'm sorry," he murmured. "They were human, or- or looked it." He was panting lightly. "That's all I could tell."
Amaya felt a shiver run up her spine and almost convulsively looked toward the temple gate. Luckily, no one seemed to notice, and she quickly returned her attention to the ceremony happening around her. She was seated in the middle of the outer courtyard, a length of cloth that she was busy tying knots into clutched between her hands.
Emiko was chanting quietly beside her, but she could practically feel her mother's tension radiating off her in waves.
Mizaak sighed. "Well, I suppose that's more knowledge than we had before. But if they are human, that's a relief. Divines know there are far more fearsome beasts in this world."
They were nearing the village now, and he did as he was bidden, taking Akira straight to the temple. He passed the gate with the older man in tow, and cursed when he saw the crowd still present.
He looked towards a guard stationed at the gate as they passed. "Summon a healer, as quickly as you can manage, and give the order for all the others to return to their regular posts. Keep a sharp lookout for anyone."
The guard, thankfully, nodded and left straight away. Mizaak sighed, and helped Akira around the crowd.
"Madam Emiko, Amaya..." he started, once within sight of the two.
Emiko spotted him first, and her eyes widened. She leaned in to Amaya. "Stay here, finish the ceremony."
Before anyone could react, she'd left the circle of villagers, blocking most of her husband and Mizaak's position from view as she ushered them toward a side door of the temple. "Spirits, what happened?! Akira, what-"
She saw the blood staining his side and paled. "Oh heavens..."
Amaya couldn't move. She knew something was wrong, but she also knew her parents didn't want her to cause any sort of stir.
"Something attacked him. I found him this way, in the jungle." He shook his head. "The guards are already on alert, and I had one send for a healer. They should be here momentarily."
Mizaak sighed, and hobbled with Akira toward the side door. When he was sure they were far enough away from the villagers, he looked over his shoulder at Emiko. "I did give him a few drops of my blood, so it should look worse than it is. He wanted to talk to you, too."
The woman paused, then nodded and ushered them to the closest room with a sleeping mat. "Set him down here, I'll look for the healer."
Mizaak gave a slight nod and carried him into the open room. As gently as he could manage, he laid Akira down on the mat.
He knelt next to him. "How do you feel, my lord?"
Akira coughed and blood stained his lips. "Fantastic," he muttered. "Ready to take on an army..."
His eyes started to flutter closed just as Emiko hurried back into the room, one of the temple's more accomplished healers on her tail.
"Akira!" She knelt beside her husband, taking his hand in hers. "Look at me, love. What happened?"
Outside, Amaya was finally, finally wrapping up the ceremony. She was forced to mingle, to accept blessings and prayers from the villagers as they lined up to speak to her, but her eyes were constantly drawn to the guards at the gate, and the few she saw beyond.
They'd been alerted to patrol the village. What the hell was going on?
Mizaak couldn't help but grin at Akira's reply. "Yeah, you look it. Please, try and get rest. I think I hear your wife with the healer."
He moved away, knowing Emiko would inevitably want to be at his side. When she and the healer entered, he excused himself.
"I'm going to see to Amaya. My lord, Madam." He offered a steep bow, and quietly exited the room.
As he walked down the corridor, he raised a hand to his head, pushing back on his frill as if it were hair, and let out a deep sigh. This was not the excitement he had wanted.
In time, he exited the main entryway of the temple, and glanced about for Amaya. The crowd looked passive - good, that meant that, hopefully, no one was aware of the goings on in the temple.
Finding her, Mizaak strode to Amaya's side, and announced his presence as he tapped the butt of his trident upon the ground, standing at attention once again, patiently waiting for her to get a free moment. 5
She felt more than heard his approach, and offered a polite smile to the last few people gathered around her.
"Excuse me, I believe my presence is need in the temple." She smiled, waved slightly, and took a few steps back toward Mizaak before turning and almost sticking herself to his side.
"What's going on? Is Father alright?"
He turned to lead her into the temple, speaking as quietly as he could manage.
"Yes, he is fine. Or, rather, he will be. The healer is with him now. Something, or someone attacked him in the jungle. He's unsure of what exactly attacked him, other than...humanoid, I suppose."
When they were inside the temple, and out of public view, he stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. "Amaya....I'm sorry to have to ask you this, but... Until this is dealt with, could you please remain near, or even better, in the temple?"
He searched her eyes for a moment before he spoke again.
"I need to be absolutely sure you're safe. Please. At the very least, don't go anywhere without me unless it's in your chambers."
She nodded slowly. "Alright. I will, Mizaak." She took a breath. "Now please, just- I want to see my father."
Mizaak nodded after a moment. "Yes...yes, of course you do. I'm sorry, Amaya." He released her shoulder, his hand dropping back to his side.
"It's just this way."
As they walked, he scolded himself internally. He must always remember, her needs before his. While he only wanted her absolute safety, her father was injured, and she could only worry, not knowing how badly he was hurt.
Remembering suddenly his own problem, he opened his free hand and inspected his palm. He now had two long, jagged lines cut into the flesh there, and they stung badly. He would need to get that taken care of, and soon.
Soon enough, they arrived at the door where she could find her parents and the healer. Mizaak looked to her. "They're just inside. I'll remain out here until you're ready."
She sighed and her shoulders slumped slightly. "Thank you, Mizaak, I-"
She paused, catching sight of his hand, and her brow furrowed. She grabbed for his hand, then frowned up at his face. "Why haven't you had someone look at this?"
She was anxious, itching to see her father, but she was also worried about her friend.
Mizaak smiled slightly. "Well, I haven't had time. And besides, what would the healer say when he saw a wound that spilled water, rather than blood?"
Gently, he pulled his hand from hers, and gestured to the door. "You go ahead. When you're ready, we can return to the garden long enough for my hand to heal in the koi pond." He smiled down at her.
"Go, and be with your father."
"No." Amaya glanced around, then folded his hand between hers and closed her eyes. She took a breath, drawing power up from her core. She let out the breath she'd been holding and magic skittered down her fingers, knitting flesh back together.
When her eyes opened they were brighter than usual, but she blinked and they quickly returned to normal. "Alright. I'm going inside." She turned to slip out of the hallway.
Mizaak looked after her for a moment, eyes slightly widened, and then looked at his palm. The cuts he'd opened in healing Amaya's hand and Akira's grievous wound were both gone, healed as if they hadn't been there.
After a moment, he dropped his hand, and smiled. It felt good, knowing they had each other, even when both of them had to hide their respective truths from everyone else.
He stepped to the wall opposite the door Amaya had entered, and turned to face the door, standing at attention.
"Father."
Amaya hurried to the injured man's side, kneeling next to her mother and looking between the two of them. "What happened?"
"He says there were foreigners on the island," Emiko replied quietly, watching the healer as she worked over her husband. "They were encroaching on the village territory, and he told them to stand down." She sighed. "They didn't understand Thanati. All the saw was a man with an arrow aimed for their chests."
"They attacked." Amaya frowned, looking to Akira. His eyes were closed, and his breathing was ragged. "How many?"
Emiko shook her head. "We don't know. He lost consciousness before-" She choked off and put a hand over her mouth.
Amaya laid her hand on her shoulder. "It's alright, Mother. It will be okay..."
Mizaak remained outside in the hallway, trying to stay far away enough to give them a respectable amount of privacy. He could hear muffled voices from beyond the door, and he made no move to listen in.
While he was indeed saddened that Akira bad been injured, he took heart in the fact that he would live. He made a mental note to ask Akira to not patrol alone again. The jungle could be an unforgiving place, even for a seasoned man like him.
"My lady Ichiko..."
"Yes?" Both Amaya and Emily looked to the priestess bent over Akira. She blinked, then lowered her eyes.
"My ladies, he's not...he's not responding. I have stopped the bleeding, and given him a tonic to help with the blood loss, but he's not..."
"Move." Not bthering to be polite, Amaya leaned forward, pushing the girl out of the way as she laid a hand over her father's chest and breathed slowly. She reached into herself, then let the magic flow through her, rushing through her body and pounding in her eyes like a second heartbeat.
Beneath he hands, Akira's body arched slightly, then shuddered as flesh was sewn together, blood cleared from his lungs.
Amaya frowned. There was something else, a darkness that seemed to evade her power. She pushed- and suddenly reeled back, gasping as the backlash of the magic snapped.
Mizaak heard the sharp inhalation of breath from within the other room, and before that the semi-sharp way in which Amaya had addressed the priestess.
"Damn it all..." he muttered, and strode forward, into the room. His golden eyes flicked first to the priestess, as if suspecting some treachery - the look in her eyes told him otherwise.
His reptilian gaze moved on to the two women and Akira, and he knelt on the older mans other side. He noticed the color returning to his Lords cheeks, but arched a brow.
He still smelled....off.
"...what is wrong? Why does he not awaken?"
Amaya shook her head, her breathing rough. "Poison," she murmured. "I don't recognize it- it's acting slowly, but I can't purify it..."
Emiko's spine stiffened and her fists clenched in the folds of her kimono.
Mizaak stood, still looking down at Akira strangely.
He could still feel the faint traces of Amaya's healing magic. He could see the results she'd wrought, but if she couldn't do it alone, and his blood hadn't done it...
"Priestess... Can you leave us for a moment, please?"
The woman nodded, getting to her feet. "Of course. Forgive me, my lady, I couldn't-"
Emiko stopped her with a raised hand. "Don't. You've done what you could, and you have our thanks."
She nodded and left the room. Amaya looked back to Mizaak. "I couldn't fix it," she whispered.
Mizaak kneeled once again, directly opposite Amaya. "Alone, neither one if us were successful." He laid his trident on the floor behind him, and held his hand out to Amaya.
"But together, we may have better luck. Bless my blood, Amaya."
"Mizaak-"
"No." Emiko leaned forward to gently push his hand away. "No, we won't do that. Akira wouldn't want this."
Amaya swallowed thickly. "Mother, if it saves him-"
"I said no, Amaya. If your power was not enough to purify his blood, then what makes you think Mizaak's added magic will?" She narrowed her eyes, obviously refusing to look at her husband. "He was attacked by foreigners. We will not stoop to their level to save him."
"Mother-"
"No."
"Mother."
"I said no!" Emiko's hand were shaking and she took a sharp breath. "Please, Amaya. Just- you have to tell the village what has happened. I'll stay with him."
Mizaak looked away, shamed, eyes on the floor. His mind raced for a solution that would appease Emiko, but short of magic he could think of nothing.
Except....
"My apologies, Madam. Mayhap we can find another way " He grabbed his trident, and used it to push himself into a standing position.
"Amaya. I will accompany you outside." He looked at her a little oddly, a glint in his eyes.
Amaya stared at her mother for several long moments in silence, then nodded and got to her feet.
"Very well." She turned on her heel to leave the room, hands clenched into fists so tight that her knuckles were white.
Mizaak followed her out the door and, seeing that they were alone for the moment, fell into step beside her. When he felt they were sufficiently away from Emiko, he placed his hand on her shoulder to stop her.
".....there is another way. Or, at least a solid path to another way. We....I....need to consult my mother."
"Your mother?" She blinked, then took a breath.
"We can't," she whispered. "Spirits, I wish we could, but- we can't leave. It'd be too obvious, the village would know something was wrong, Mother would send guards after us-"
"Not we. I. Me, Amaya." He sighed, and took her hand in his.
"I know I couldn't take you with me. But I don't see any other way. She told me...that you would need me. That's the reason why I even exist. She may even already know what's going on, for all we know." He looked her dead in the eye.
"Let me do this for you, Amaya. It's either that, or both of us risk your mother's wrath when we try to save him anyway. Better me than you."
Amaya's eyes widened just slightly. "Mizaak, I-" She clutched at his hand.
Fourteen years and they'd hardly ever been apart. That fact hit her quite suddenly, the realization of something she knew, but hadn't really felt before.
Her grip on his hand tightened. "Be careful," she whispered. "Our home is not as safe as we once thought it was."
Mizaak looked down into her face, his own softening in response.
She was more to him than simply 'Chosen.' She was the only person in the world he could call a friend. Fourteen years of constant companionship had taught him that he would do anything for her, and he strove every day to prove that to her
This, to him, was simply a greater way for him to prove his friendship. It didn't mean that he liked it any more than she, though.
He released her hand only to put it over her shoulder, and pulled her into a one armed embrace. "I know. But I worry more about you, here, Amaya. Promise me you'll stay inside the temple."
She was frozen and stiff for a few moments, then relaxed slightly and hugged him back, wrapping her arms around him tightly and not really giving a damn if she wrinkled the fabric of her clothes or mussed her hair.
"I will," she murmured, then stepped back sharply. "Hurry. Please."
Mizaak released her, and nodded. His face was solemn. "I'll follow the stream up the mountain. It goes almost all the way there."
He sighed, and looked towards the entryway to the temple. "....fourteen years, and this'll be the first time I'm more than twenty feet from you." He looked back to her with a wan smile.
"I'll be back as soon as I can."
He turned from her, and began walking to the entryway of the temple, pausing at the first turn to look back at her one last time.
He couldn't find anymore words. He offered a small smile meant to reassure her, and disappeared around the corner.
Amaya didn't smile. She clenched her hands in the sleeves of her kimono and watched him go, her wide eyes the only betrayal of her roiling emotions.
Then she closed her eyes, took a breath, and turned to slip back into the room. She didn't say a word, just moved to kneel beside her mother and bowed her head, gently taking her father's hand in her own.
Even with his massive frame, it was easy for him to slip in and out of the temple grounds, and even the village, undetected. Years of sneaking Amaya around to places that neither of them should be gave him ample practice, and he was relatively sure that not a single person outside the temple had seen him leave.
Questions would be raised, after all, if anyone knew he was gone. Not much may be known about him, but all knew that he and Amaya were almost never apart. Best not to give the grapevine anything to pass.
And so, in about a half hour, he found himself nearly a mile outside the village, at the very spot where he and Amaya had met fourteen years before.
He looked into the water, looking down at his reflection. How the time had changed him! But, his attitude had remained the same, save for the professionalism he'd gained and the knowledge he'd gained.
He sighed, and looked up from the water. Let the stream reflect for him - he had no time to waste.
Mizaak looked up into the sky. It was late afternoon, by now, and through the trees he could see the gathering of clouds. It would rain soon - at least he'd have some comfort, and he was fortunate enough to be away from the village. None but Amaya or her parents had ever witnessed what happened to him when he was drenched.
It was torture, just sitting there, waiting. Amaya had been told to leave the room as three more priestesses were ushered in, all trying to identify and mitigate the poison in her father's system.
She paced the hall, feet nearly soundless as she seemed to be trying to wear circles through the wood. She'd informed the village that in the wake of the ceremony her father had fallen ill. The guards had been aware of the situation- as much as they could.
So there was nothing left to do but wait.
Normally, Amaya was a very patient person. Not today. Today she couldn't.
The residents of the temple were distracted, understandably, and she managed to slip out into the back gardens, where she sank down on a small bench and buried her face in her hands, forcing herself to just breathe.
Eventually, he had to take a break. It always seemed as though, just before it would rain, it would always get unbearably hot, and he was covered in sweat from head to toe.
He took shelter in the shade of a tree with large, broad leaves, sitting cross legged and trying to decide whether or not to continue in the rain.
Amaya wasn't even sure when she'd started walking, but by the time she'd forced herself out of her own head she was already treading the well-worn path into the jungle. Her eyes widened slightly and she paused.
Was she really going to do this?"
Something told Mizaak he should wait, at least for a few minutes. Whatever feeling it was, he felt as if it were important, and so he stayed put, sitting beneath the leafy boughs of the jungle tree.
It was a lucky decision, too - not a moment after the decision had been made, he could hear the drops of rain patter against the broad leaves above him. Had he continued to walk, he'd be stomping through the jungle as a beast.
With the goal he had in mind, that normally wouldn't bother him, but...somehow he had the thought that something would require him to remain human for at least a little while longer.
It only took a few moments for Amaya to be soaked to the bone, but she continued doggedly on, tramping through the thick foliage in an effort to just keep herself moving, to not sit still and wait.
Mizaak remained stubbornly as far from the deluge as he could manage, keeping as dry as possible. In time, it would seem as though his feeling would pay off, as he saw a figure in soaked raiments tromp past him.
His eyes widened, and he jumped to his feet, stepping out info the rain. The moment he felt the rain beating on his skin, he felt the inevitable change as the water seemed to merely accumulate on him, changing from clear liquid to flesh and scales.
In but a seconds time, it wasn't a man who clamped a hand on Amaya's shoulder, but a beast. A large, bipedal reptile with a head reminiscent of a snakes, blue and black scales covering his whole body, and a thick tail starting at the small of his back, Mizaak stood in his true form. The only truly recognizable features on him would be his golden eyes, full of a mix of care and shock, and the steel trident he carried in one fist.
In this form, speaking was ridiculously difficult, but he would try anyway, his words stumbling over themselves as he fought to say them. "Amaya," he started, the 'M' in her name barely pronounced as he had no lips to make the sound, "why are you out here?"
Shocked, she jumped and whirled to face what she thought might be an attacked, hands raised and a chant prepared to leave her lips.
Then her wide eyes recognized the figure in front of her and her shoulders slumped as the tension left her. "Mizaak. Thank the spirits- you about gave me a heart attack!"
She blinked up at him, water running in concentrated rivulets between the horns on her brow. It had been a while since she'd seen him in this form.
He'd grown.
He let out the beginnings of a sigh, and quickly cut it off as it came out sounding like a growl. It'd been so long since he'd taken this form, he'd nearly forgotten the various pros and cons that came with it.
Communication was one such con. There didn't seem to be many good things about it.
"I am sorry to have startled you," he said, his voice like the grating of stone. "I...saw you walking. What are you doing out here? You promised me you'd stay."
Amaya winced a little. "I know, I did. I just..." She sighed and rubbed her temples. "I couldn't just stand around doing nothing. If I can do something to help him, I have to do it."
She shivered; the rain wasn't cold, nor was the air, but she was by now so thoroughly soaked that water was dripping down her spine with an odd tingling sensation.
If he could smile, he would. But, lacking that ability, he had to settle with taking her hand and pulling it away from her face, being careful not to abrade her skin with his scales.
"I understand..." he rumbled, and he lowered his head to look her in the eye. "But now, here you are wearing about thirty pounds of clothing, and carrying an extra twenty in rainwater." He let out a grating chuckle, and looked upstream, up the mountain. "It's still quite a distance to my mother's...you can have a chance to dry out, if you need it. It isn't like I can take you back like this, anyway..."
Her eyes closed and she released a heavy sigh. "Thank you." She's honestly been a little afraid he might cart her back to the temple.
Another sigh and she looked up, squinting through the rain. "This probably isn't going to stop soon," she muttered, brow furrowed.
Mizaak looked up with her. "No. It doesn't. Perhaps we should continue on, then, before the stream floods it's banks."
He released her hand and let his fall back to his side. "Well. Let's go, then. So long as we continue up the mountain, we're headed in the right direction."
She nodded. "Lead the way. I've no idea where I'm going, really."
"Hmmph. Up. That's the only way to go from here." He glanced at her out the corner of his eye. "She'd better nkt be cross with me for not visiting her, either. It isn't like I've got the free time to walk halfway across the island."
His words were puctuated with a gravelly chuckle, and once again he found himself wishing he could smile. He cursed the rain.
Amaya winced. "I am sorry about that. I've told you, you should take some days off every now and then. We can survive without you..."
What was usually a casual phrase died off as she once again realized the severity of the situation.
"...you do know I was joking, right? I hate this form...it's so hard to speak." He huffed a little, turning his large head to look at her.
"And time off for me is time away from you...before we even met, I swore my life for yours. I would never leave for me...only if it were in your service."
He couldn't help but try and grin, baring a long line of vicious, curved fangs. "Like today was supposed to be. Listen...mother will know what to do. Don't worry. Please."
She scowled, wrapping her arms around her body as she shivered. Her hair had long since come loose of its carefully styled loops and pins, thick locks clumping on her shoulders and sliding into her face.
"I know you were joking. That's what worries me," she muttered.
If she hadn't been so distracted thinking about her father, she might have said more. She loved her friend dearly, and she worried sometimes about how seriously he took his duty to her- as a bodyguard she could understand some of his devotion, but it was a long contested issue between them that he should have a life outside his work.
Mizaak stopped, and looked at her with his head tilted to one side.
"...Amaya. Don't worry about me, please. Trust me, I do what I do for more reasons than simple duty." His golden eyes blinked at her. "Yes, I was created to serve you. Yes, I was created to be your friend and your guardian. But there's more to it than that."
He turned his head, looking back toward their path. "In all the world, there is not another like me. All over Thanatos, I would be shunned, despite my purpose. But in you, and your family.... I feel as if I belong."
He glanced at her again. "And not for one minute would I forsake that. I know what I am. You know what I am. Look at you, your mother and your father. Then look at the villagers, with their distrust. That's why I do what I do."
Amaya sighed and walked just a little closer so her shoulder brushed his arm for a moment. "I know," she whispered. "I know, Mizaak."
She wrapped her arms around her middle and ducked her head as they continued walking. "I don't know what we'll do," she murmured suddenly. "I can't- If he..." Her voice choked off and she pressed a hand to her mouth.
The creature walking beside her was clearly more than a beast. Anyone who was watching would be able to see that, especially when one of his huge arms went around her shoulders, and he gently tugged her to his side.
"Hey...it'll be all right. Mother will have a way for us. I know she will. So, there's no point in thinking that way."
It was nearly comical, such a fearsome looming creature offering words of comfort, his scaled arm and clawed hand hugging her tightly to him.
"Trust me. Think positive - we'll get through this. Together. Okay, Amaya?"
"Okay." She closed her eyes, took a breath, then tried again, a little stronger, "Okay."
Amaya glanced up at him and tried for a smile. It was small, but it was there. She pressed a little closer to his side and gathered up her kimono in on hand so the hem wasn't constantly tripping her up as they walked.
He chuckled a little as he glanced down at her, and mirrored words that he had said to her earlier that day.
"Ah, there's Amaya again. But I know she's got a bigger smile than that..." He released her shoulder and bend one finger to poke her gently in the ribs with his knuckles, careful to avoid catching her clothing with his claws or scales.
Somewhere in the back of his mind, he was aware that they were getting close to their destination.
"Ach!" Amaya jumped, squeaked, then twisted her head to glare at him.
"Really? Is that appropriate right now?" she snipped, but she was trying to hide a smile, eventually restoring to raising a hand to cover her mouth.
"Heh, apparently. It had the desired effect." The smile may not appear on his face, but it certainly could be heard on his voice.
The closer they got go their destination, the lighter the rain became, as if the very location was pushing the rain away.
Amaya shaded her eyes and glanced up. "Is it lightening up out here?" she murmured, frowning. "I could have sworn that stone looked like it wasn't going to pass so quickly..."
Mizaak looked too, noting the thinning of clouds, the sun just beginning to peak through. "Yes..." he rumbled, and he looked back to her.
"We're close. If I had my guess, she knows we're coming."
"She does?" Amaya twisted her head to blink at him. "How can you tell?"
As the rays of the sun intensified, small wisps of steam began to roll off of Mizaak's body. The reptilian appearance of him gradually seemed to melt away, the scales turning translucent and rolling off of him like water. His tail shrank and disappeared, and his face gradually flattened back to its normal appearance.
After a few minutes, the clouds of steam began to dissipate, and he stood in his human form once more. He gave a relieved sigh, and glanced to Amaya.
"She doesn't suffer me to stand in the rain. That's how I know." He smiled widely and began walking again towards where he knew his mother's home to be.
"Oh." Amaya blinked, eyes wide as she stared up at him. "That's...useful."
She cleared her throat and dropped her eyes. "Should I...know anything about her?"
It was strange- the woman was responsible for her birth, but she knew almost nothing about her, really.
Mizaak bummed to himself for a moment, turning his gaze to the path ahead. He was quiet for a moment as they walked.
"Well, she can be sort of cryptic sometimes, but generally she's just trying to be helpful. Just treat her with respect, and she'll treat you the same in turn."
She nodded slowly. "Noted." She couldn't stop herself from glancing back over her shoulder.
It suddenly struck her that this was as far from home as she'd ever been. Ridiculous, perhaps, but sadly true. Even in Mizaak's company, she'd never been allowed to wander further than the stream that bordered the village.
The rain was slowly lessening and she glanced up with a small frown. Her fingers twitched, itching to call the water to her. It had been happening more and more often lately, and she had to breathe deeply and close her eyes for a moment to bite down the urge.
The larger man glanced down at his companion, noting the way Amaya looked upward with a grown. When her hand began to twitch, he reached down with one and and took hers.
Mizaak smiled broadly. "Calm yourself, Amaya. Calling more down to us will only serve to soak us further. Not to mention the strain of your power fighting my mothers."
Amaya winced and her attention flicked to him rather than the sky above them. "Right. Yes, right. I know, I'm sorry..."
Her magic could be...unpredictable. At the best of times. Her manipulation of chi was fairly reliable, if draining, but her gift with water- that could sneak up on her.
A vague hope pricked at the back of her mind. Mizaak's mother was a witch. Not only that, she was responsible for Amaya's very existence. Maybe she'd be able to actually get some answers from her.
Mizaak smiled down at her, briefly squeezing her hand before releasing it. "Don't worry about it....look, now. Here's house."
He looked up the path ahead, to see a massive clearing with one huge tree in its center, easily large enough to wind a man simply by running its circumference. A crude stairway seemed to be created from the trees own wood, not carved but somehow shaped from the tree itself.
A large door stood just above the stairway.
Mizaak smiled. "It's been....awhile since I've seen this place."
Amaya's feet stalled and she blinked, taking in the massive girth of the tree and the- obviously magically crafted- home nestled within.
"It's...certainly something," she murmured, for a moment forgetting the real urgency of their errand.
"Truly has been a while. You'd think the boy might have bothered to visit."
Amaya started and whirled around, her hand automatically flying to the jade pin in her hair. Not a very effective weapon at a distance, but the only one she had. She blinked as she saw the tiny old women who had spoken, a basket balanced on her head and her silvered hair and faded robes drenched from the rain.
"G-grandmother," she murmured on reflex, giving the witch a carefully polite bow.
"Pfft." The woman merely arched an eyebrow. "Mizaak's never visited before, I don't see why he'd start now. Something must have happened to bring you two here."
Mizaak had wondered when she would finally appear. She always did have an odd habit of sneaking up on people...
He gave a broad smile, and reached forward to take the basket from his 'mother,' setting it down gently before encircling the small old woman in a hug.
It was rather comical, seeing a giant such as him hugging such a tiny old woman. She very nearly disappeared.
"Ten thousand apologies, mother. But...you should know I've been doing my duty in earnest."
He released her with a smile, though that smile faded when she mentioned their reasoning for being there.
"I'd have visited before...but yes, something did happen. Something very bad..." He bent down to pick up the basket, hefting it up on one shoulder with ease and taking his trident in hand with the other.
"Perhaps it would be best if we went inside and talked about it, mother..."
The witch thumped him on the chest and mock frowned, laugh lines clear around her eyes. "I know you are, boy."
Her face fell a bit and she nodded when he spoke again, glancing between Amaya and Mizaak. Amaya twisted her hands nervously in her kimono.
She had no idea how to react to this woman.
"Come in then," the witch said, sharp but not unkind, and nudged the door on the tree open while waving the other two ahead of her. "Let's talk."
Mizaak nodded, and looked down to Amaya. "Don't be nervous. Just act as you normally would...not in the professional sense, more like how you act around me." He smiled to her.
"Her being a witch aside, she's really just a normal woman. No need to be afraid." He gestured forward with the non-lethal end of his trident. "Go ahead, and I'll be right behind you."
"I'm not...nervous."
Amaya took a breath and stepped forward, lifting the hem of her kimono as she cautiously slipped into the witch's home.
The old woman was bustling about lighting a fire in a small pit, and she turned to take the basket back from Mizaak as they entered. "You two should probably explain what's happened. I may be old, but I don't know everything." She gave Amaya a small smile.
"It's, um..." The younger woman took a breath. "My father is wounded. I- I tried to use my gift to heal him, but...he won't wake. We don't understand why."
The witch frowned. "How was he hurt?"
"He was patrolling, alone. From what he said before he slipped into unconsciousness, some foreigners attacked him, and managed to wound him with poisoned weapon. I also used my blood, a small amount, to see if I could heal him. It didn't work, either. We were hoping you may have something to neutralize the poison, and save his life."
As he spoke, his eyes fell to the floor. "There must be some way."
The witch pursed her lips. "I will need to see him," she said with a sharp nod. Her eyes flicked over Amaya and her guard. "I assume your lady is not really supposed to be here?"
Amaya winced and ducked her head, feeling suddenly very much like a child. This woman was...interesting.
"Well, help me pack up some herbs, and we'll return to your village."
Mizaak chuckled deeply, and looked to Amaya with a shrug. "Well, she's got to be able to do what she wants sometime. If I could get her out of sight of the temple more often..."
He smiled a bit, and gently laid a hand on Amaya's shoulder. "You see? I told you she'd help. Let's get what she needs and hurry back."
Amaya nodded quickly, grateful for his support but unwilling to drop her mask of control, however tenuous her hold on it was. She moved forward to help the witch gather her herbs, brow furrowed and jaw set.
Mizaak sighed, a little disappointed that he couldn't cheer her up. But, he supposed it couldn't be helped - while he felt bad that her father was hurt, he couldn't imagine how she felt about it; it wasn't his mother lying back at the temple, after all.
He after a moment, he began to help as well, getting another basket to place the herbs in and carry. "So...are we grabbing everything, mother?"
She shook her head. "No...that should be about it. Alright, let's get moving." Her eyes flickered over to Amaya and suddenly the younger woman found her chin being tilted up to meet the witch's eyes.
"Hmmm..."
Amaya blinked, then she was suddenly released and the older woman was slipping back out into the soft rain. "Come on then, don't dawdle."
She shook her head and glanced at Mizaak. "Is she always like this?"
Mizaak gave a small, sheepish smile. "Er...yeah, sort of. You, uh....you get used to it. Eventually." He chuckled a bit, and took up the basket and his trident again.
"Well, we'd better be off. If she beats us down the mountain, we'll never hear the end of it."
That got a chuckle out of her, though it was small. "Right. Let's move, then." She slipped back outside, hurrying after the old woman, who had already gained a good bit of ground down the trail.
Mizaak nodded and took to walking after her, his long strides making it easy to match her pace.
It wasn't long before he caught up to them. "So, mother. What have you been doing with yourself all these years?"
"And what makes you think that's any business of yours?" The witch snipped, words sharp but tone kind.
Amaya quirked an eyebrow as she trailed along behind, her constant worry offset just slightly by the old woman's rather eccentric presence.
Mizaak blinked, stopped for a moment, and then smiled broadly. "Well, it's been so long since we've spoken, I think we've got some amount of catching up to do. You already know what I've been up to, but the mountain had been quiet for a good long while. And besides, I'm sure Amaya's curious about you, too."
He glanced town to Amaya with a grin. "I'm sure my descriptions from all that time ago can't still be accurate. I was but a child when I left."
Amaya tried to smile, but worry drew hard lines around her mouth and eyes, making the expression rather difficult.
In any other circumstances, she would have been excited to meet Mizaak's mother, but as things stood she couldn't pull her mind from her father, and only found herself saying, "Is- is there some way we can move faster?"