Halloween
She didn't have time to change out of her costume earlier. The M'hajid were looking for her, and she barely escaped earlier from the main room. Naevein was dressed up like a moon fairy, with black silk from her shoulder, over flowing to the ground, spilling a few feet past her ankles. Her hair was down, and it was forbidden and frowned upon for a woman in her situation to let it loose. Woven in dark curls diamond like crystals to look like stars and an abundance of silver glitter.
On the back of her silk, sheer wings, which moved when her arms moved. The mask was painted on with silver and black kohl liner, for an ethereal look. She was lingering in the back alley, more like leaning near the windows making sure she wasn't followed. The street light sparkled as the abundance of glitter trailed where she walked. You'd have to have a keen eye to see the sparkles. Thankfully the one making chase never looked at the ground.
She was talking to herself in an old tongue of her people. Then she climbed down off the old crate and sat upon it waiting patiently.
Halloween was a mundie holiday, a safe way for humans to dabble in the Shadow World with the promise of four walls and a warm bed afterward. The one night where they could dance with what they thought was the truth about their existence. As a Nephilim, he had no time for it. And that's what found him strolling down the alley at an easy pace, a take-out bag tucked into the crook of his arm. Bootheels silent, whispers on stone. He heads down the alley, unaware that it was being used as a refuge.
"Of me I saw 7 3 8 upon metal. Why lay down? I know not, not were should be. Very bad sorrow." Repeating what she witnessed earlier and out poured in the book Uzzi gave to her to fill up the pages with words. "7 3 and 8. Not know why numbers tick tock flash lights stars." She was talking to herself, trying to improve her common tongue. No one was out there but her and her back was to the alley, she sat near a corner and if it wasn't for her voice no one would be the wiser she was there.
"Get back. Esesex on voice, why? Why?" Get to someone, was the message. She clearly heard a message about sex and getting back to someone. Details of the vision were in words on the page, what she was repeating now were the things that stood out most. Though she sounded like a lunatic talking to herself in whispers.
He hears it, and it makes him pause, the quiet sound that wasn't like any animal he'd heard before. Frowning, he puts his free hand on the alley door to let himself inside, but seems to think better of it. Produces a stone from his pocket. Dormant, it looks like a piece of white quartz, etched deeply with the same runes that circled his stele. They spoke of light, truth and warmth and when he holds it in the net of scarred fingers, a soft white-blue glow begins to illuminate the alley.
Maybe it was because she extended herself, that it started from the first jolting between beautiful dream or a terrifying nightmare. She remained confused, but if she thought about it long enough, maybe it would come to light. Her head was down, so she didn't see the light, though the light shadowed play wings upon her back which may have been a reason to believe there was another kind of creature there.
A faerie, in an alley? Blinking, he heads toward the curled form, bathed in its glitter, with all its starlight brilliance. "Lady, why have you not gone inside? Surely there's greater warmth and comfort to be found," speaking to her wings.
Having only heard the woman's name from his lips once, she would not try to slaughter it in thought. Hearing another's voice, it startled her and she fell off the old crate and looked over her shoulder. Green eyes were radiant against the black and silver liner. Hand against her heart and she breathed. "Naevein." Turning around and up on her knees, she put her hands together and bowed her head. Cris probably did not know it was her. "No lady, only Naevein. Slava." Bowing her head out of respect.
No, he certainly had to look far beyond the glitter and the mask to even see a resemblance to the woman he'd met only last night. But her voice and her lilting abundance of seemingly random words gives her away further. In the harsh white-blue glow, his eyes are leeched of color. The stubble on his jaw dark as his hair, framing a slight smile. "Naevein. My question still remains the same."
It would take a moment to get up since she was now tangled in silk tail. Taking a moment to lower herself to one side of her hip, she worked the bottom and loosened it from her ankles and finally managed to get some semblance of grace to stand up. "Safe of me not." Said as she stood up and dusted the ground's residue from her hip. She felt awkward simply because she knew something he did not know she knew.
Stepping back to give her room she did not seem to need, the tightness of his brow returns. "That's an even greater reason why you should not be lingering here where any can find you. Come, we'll go inside." Half turns, he gestures with his netted fist to the door, sending the witchlight's glow to bath the wet alley wall.
Not moving from where she stood. She can run out here, inside she was trapped. She was perfectly content to wait outside. "Thanks of me." Shaking her head no. The witch's light was pretty, but she was not moving. To many times she was nearly trapped when the hunter cornered her. He might find Constance inside, she was dressed as a woman fish earlier.
Ever were he to venture in without her, his thoughts would still be outside. And so when he receives her gratitude, but not her company, he exhales, lowering his hand. "Then perhaps I'll join you here. What is it that has you thinking your safety is in jeopardy?"
He was free to join her. The old crate was put back up to sit and another also propped up not far away from it. She didn't mind sitting in the alley waiting, she had been in worse places. Sitting down and looking up at the sky for a moment. "Know of me, think it doubts. Know of me hunter comes looking. Not go back to .. Vershera. Time gone for that. Why see of me 7 38?" After she asked the question of him about the numbers, she found his eyes and stared.
Her words broken but not completely indecipherable, his mouth eases into a customary frown as he joins her on that empty crate. He can feel the cold, though not the damp, through his gear. Puts the witchlight stone near his left knee, the take-out on his lap. Though he blinks at her question, meeting her gaze in confusion. "I'm sorry...?"
"Sorrow of me. See me.. 7 3 8. Cris laying on floor, confusion of mind. I know not why. Sorrow of me."
"I...I don't know how I am supposed to help you figure this out. I've not been on the floor in some time." The numbers sound like only numbers to him. He's seen them before. Oh, how he has seen them before, but the way she speaks of them is too obscure. She must mean something else.
She obviously wasn't explaining herself. She stood up and moved closer to him and put her hand on his shoulder. "See Cris..and dark hair woman. Look like this.." She showed him a clear look of confusion. "Look of you saw me. 7 3 8 light numbers me know not why see me.. of you." Letting go of his shoulder. He said nothing about her note. "Sorrow pains eyes of you. Sorrow of me, so sorrow of me." Hopefully he understood that she had empathy.
"Mouth of you said Bb-... bee-awn-ka.." She said it very slowly and exhaled. "Sorry of me. Bad, bad am me. Bad me do, sorrow of me." Standing back up. "I go."
He blinks again at her, but the more she explains the more he can feel the blood draining from his face. Luckily for him he was quite pale to start with and the glow of the witchlight stone further casts him into harsh monochrome. Her hand on his shoulder is warm, fighting off his chill. He's silent for some time, unable to decide whether or not he's outraged or horrified. He flinches when she says the name and his expression then turns to stone. "Who told you these things?" voice like rocks cracking under pressure.
She announces her intention to go and he reaches for her arm, to try and catch her in her flight. "No. You will stay, and you will explain this to me. told you this?" Because it had to be someone.
She started to walk, his hand caught her arm and he demanded she stayed. She was easily caught, she didn't run fast unless being chased. "Think of me, Cris said. Lonely in your eyes. Much sorrow behind. Night of last saw of me, much sadness. Monks say secrets need out. I keeper of secrets." She didn't try to jerk her arm from his. "Swear of me, tell none. I die first. Swear of me whisper none of secrets."
Loneliness, sorrow. "How is it that you can see these things...?" The fight had gone from his voice, sapped, bled out by an unseen wound. He lets go of her arm. He was not in the business of restraining anyone and felt a bit guilty now that he had. Lowering his head, he closes his eyes, and sighs. "I did not tell you to think about me, Naevein."
Putting her hand on his shoulder why she was there. "Some of time heart calls knowing not how. I give note of you, under door. Friend of you if need. I whisper of none for you. Please be no sorrow now. I help?"
"Yes, I received your note. I was rather touched, but..." Puts his fingertips against his brow, sliding them back through the lank, inkspill of his hair. He did not know what to say.
But meant no. Removing her hand. "Sorrow of me. Try I. I whisper none, swear of me." She thought it best to step away and let him have peace without her. She would not press to be there for him, she offered and but always meant something else. This word she knew very well. "Sorrow of me." She would keep praying for him though.
"You've still not explained... How is this possible? You a heart calls, how many hearts can you hear?" He looks up, brow tense, wrinkled in confusion and the desire to understand. She kept apologizing and while it eased him the first time, he did not want to keep hearing it. If this was truly something she could do, it was not her fault.
She stopped. "Many, many all times. Loud was call from Cris, I pray to quiet calls, hurt me. Know not how, monks say of me secret keeper, curse of some. I hide .. no.. hide them me. Protect others from bad thing me be. Sorrow of me. Only of me to help for you. I try quiet calls of you. Forgive of me please."
Glittered trailed where she paused and it was going to be a good night for a walk and prayers. Turning to leave him alone with his thoughts, she felt horrible that she hurt him. Her intent was to help, never to harm.
Puts his hand at the base of his throat like it burned from the strain of crying out. Fingertips dimple the Marks and long lines of spare muscle and sinew that make up his neck. "What did I say to you? Only to think of me?" He does not make a move to go after her.
"Say nothing to my ears. Saw of me in your eyes." She looked up at the moon. "Dead with color, but kindness night of last. Understands words, maybe this how call of you to a secret keeper. Hearts call when is needed. Keepers of secret, way help heal. Be sounds and secrets and help. Even strong warrior need quiet place to rest in middle of storm. Little place to hide in light, little place for comfort. Of me.. small-small fragment in all world. Nothing of worth, but a place to keep secrets. I thank all gods in heavens.. for giving to me place and heart to help in so small ways no one see." Meek shall inherit the earth, but Naevein did not want the earth, she simply wanted to help those in need.
Just like he isn't one to grab and handle a woman, he isn't one to rebuke one, or anyone, for abilities that are outside of their control. Lips press together to form a line, and he studies her across the distance between them. "...Thank you. You must understand, Naevein, this is all rather sudden. Yes? I do not often go out and hear that a woman I've just met has seen... How much did you see...?"
Her back to him so he may feel she wasn't staring at him or judging him. He'd see she was looking up. "Thanks of me not. Understand hard for others to know another sees secret. Trust must be earned. I swear no tell. Sorrow of me for pain inside of you. I see some, more than numbers and floor.. two women, essex.." Breathing. "Pain, confused of you. I tell none. I knew secrets, they hurt me .. to forget. I pray for you I forget. Maybe gods come let me forget again."
She saw plenty for the first calling. It wasn't something she sought out, it just happened. "Sorrow of me. Very sorrow of me."
She understood, and he was grateful that she did. Grateful too, that she understood his desire for privacy. Secrecy. Nodding, he looks back down to the cobbles between his ankles, hands folding in the space. The runic eye on the back of his right is only half visible. "If these gods of yours let you forget, perhaps you'll convince them to let me.
"Thank you for telling me, Naevein. I am not...angry. Not angry. I'm only... I need a bit of time, yes?"
"I not sure they know of me, I pray if you want this to forget. Cris no explain of me. Fault of me, I curse for all." She didn't feel sorry for herself, she knew what she was and accepted it. The monks warned her, told her how others would see her, how they would react. "I leave you. Sorrow of me, true it is. Time promises for none, today only now. I leave alone of you, no burden. I see secrets, I keep, keep in self. I swear." She wouldn't tell him again, it hurt people too much.
She gently pulled the netting of silver crystals which looked like stars in her hair and let it fall to the ground. Stars fall. Darkness covers. Naevein left him there to be with himself and his secrets. She would speak no more of it and do her best to avoid him. The bells faintly chimed as she moved in the alley.
