Touch.. Me

There is a hesitation .. when I reach for anyone. When that moment hovers in the air and I push through it to lay my hands on flesh. Sometimes .. there is a disappointment that leaves me without emotion .. apathetic to the pleasure. At times there is relief .. for the feeling is normal .. expected. A simple garden stroll. Sometimes there is a distaste .. a shock of bile that rises in my throat and I must turn away .. retching the sour horror .. spitting it from my mouth. The internal strife like a rot that coats and takes forever to wash from me. Scrubbing until my skin is raw and bloody for the desperation to be clean once more.

You finally took things into your own hands .. and touched me. Fear clutched at my chest as breath froze within my lungs and I waited for the repulsive poison to leach into my skin and thread its way through my veins. Distracted for a moment by the audacity of your choice .. the cheeky flavor of your action. Distracted enough that I did not pull away .. but dared you to infect me .. ready for the gut clenching regurgitation to follow.

Instead .. at first I felt nothing at all .. the cut was swift and sure. Sharp enough that I relaxed just in time to get the full impact of the rush. Where breath had been frozen .. it now expanded and fed my brain with pure oxygen. Where apathy slowed the flow of blood .. it now rushed like shards of ice through every tiny capillary and I thought sure I would bleed to death as every sensory cell was filleted and opened to the stimulus of your touch.

Endorphins rushed to my aid .. convinced they were needed for my very survival .. but I brushed them away. No masochist I .. but this was something I needed to examine .. I needed to feel. I needed to allow whatever was happening to me because I wanted more than anything else to understand.

How could I have not seen it before? Why did I wait so long? Where you really there all this time just waiting for my acceptance .. or have I remade you to fit my need .. my denial that I could have been alone so long. Better to believe I have always had this nightingale? Or better to believe that I could not have known for she has only now stepped within my view?

Will the effect fade? Will I grow tired of the sensation? Will you fade in my growing expectation? Or will you remain as intense and stimulating as you are to me now? Treading my tolerance beneath your tiny wings as you climb ever higher on the drafts of my desire?

©2009 Written in Recognition of .. Beauty

First Lesson

I was tired. I stumbled twice on the way to my own wagons. Just done in by all accounts and ready to just stop .. stop moving ... stop thinking. I caught sight of the worthless pink near my fire and she was quickly stashing something out of the way. But it was nothing I felt any urge to investigate. It did not have that negative .. guilty feel to it.

She was lounging .. on some furs in a half kneel ... and she tossed a greeting to me across my fires. I crouched .. warming the chill from my hands .. letting the coals light the rough texture of my fingers ... the calluses and scars. Slowly I let my gaze drift to her .. cutting her from all else until my eyes found a tight and intent focus on her.

She finally asked if I was hungry.

huh

My reaction was swift .. without warning. I lunged from the crouch and my fist snaked out striking and jerking the hat from her head so I could lift her upwards by her hair only to use that energy to slam her body back into the ground barely missing the stones surrounding the fire. A cold fury vibrating through me.

She lay there .. many moments ... without word or movement other than to splay herself even more upon the cold ground. I waited .. but she offered me nothing .. so I hooked the toe of my boot into the curve of her shoulder and flipped her over to expose her features to my sharply expectant gaze.

Then she begged for my forgiveness .. even abandoning her identity and speaking third person to me. Ah .. if she only knew me she would not have made such a mistake. She finally curled herself into a more proper kneel before me as my lip curled revealing the white of one eyetooth and I asked .. for what? For what transgression was she begging forgiveness?

Warning

She however .. did not heed the warning and continued on .. telling me she was asking forgiveness for whatever she had done to displease me.

How simple. How easy. Had this actually worked for her in the past? Had she been able to pull out the "I am sorry" card and it just covered every circumstance imagined? Had she ever spoken to anyone more than once .. often enough that they realized that she was not aware of what she had done wrong the first time even though she apologized for it because she kept doing it? Did she believe I was so tired .. so distracted ... so stupid that I did not know she was offering me nothing of value at all?

I asked her .. what made her think that I would allow her to offer me a thing without weight or worth and not only allow it ... but give it value. That was a lot of work for someone who had not even done the wrong in the first place. I was far to lazy to do her work for her in this conversation.

She was obviously suffering great confusion .. which is not surprising for she was leaping far ahead to finish the conversation before it had even begun. She told me she was hoping to learn correctly .. that is why she begged.

huh

I reminded her she had asked for my forgiveness .. she had never asked me to teach her anything.

She said it was how she had been taught .. which was pathetic .. weak and I despised the words for their defensive posturing. I did not care if she had been taught to be stupid .. being stupid was not something I would forgive.

She did however finally beg me to teach her ... to teach her something different. Still irritated I asked her what she wanted to learn then .. as I continued to ponder her existence and how she had survived this long.

She said she wished to learn what she had done to displease me so it would never happen again. A good healthy sort of thing to wish .. in my opinion.

I told her to beg me .. to make me believe she really wanted it instead of treating me as if I were an equal ... as if I would gift these things out of the goodness of my nature ... speaking her wants to me instead of asking me. I do not do well with demands .. especially from a slave.

She finally let a little of herself show through the comfortable shroud she kept herself hidden within. A shroud meant to appear sheer and invisible. A shroud meant to give the impression of a wanton .. ready ... willing and humble slave when in reality it was nothing but surface rhetoric used to ply her will upon the unsuspecting and dull free.

And I say dull because anyone who let her get away with it had been kept within walls until their skull grew soft and allowed the rank fetid and stale air to seep into their brain.

The tears she shed on my boots .. leaving muddy little tracks in the dust ... were genuine. Not tears of manipulation or to attract attention. She caved with the feelings that were being sucked out of her at an alarming rate. I crouched to touch her hair and pull it away from her damp cheek. It was then I granted her the gift of knowing the reason behind my displeasure .. may she always remember that is a gift and not something that is due her.

I asked her why she greeted me like a pampered dweller slut on her pillows .. speaking to me across the fire as if I had come to her to seek an audience. Is not a slave meant for the will and whim of the free? Especially the man who owns her? Who owns the very life's blood coursing through her veins? Is it not her burden .. I would even say right ... to offer herself to him? Beg him to make use of her in any way he pleased?

She spoke to me of her training .. of her past. I told her something that I hope she remembers. I hope she applies it to her future as well as a lens to see her past in a better light.

I told her that those ways worked for her .. she was there with me ... alive. That those ways would continue to work for her in the future here .. yes even here there were those that were too busy or too tired or not concerned with the training of a slave enough to care whether or not she learned. She was capable of earning exactly what she had earned before .. but if her words were true .. if she sought something else ... something more .. than she would have to stretch herself to find it. To seek it. It would not come to her feet and beg her to know it. She would have to open herself up .. be vulnerable. Throw herself at it time and time again determined to understand it despite the bruising .. and if she survived ... she would indeed learn it.

Then she spoke her devotion to me. Which returned me to my state of irritation. I told her she did not know me .. to not speak words of such things she had no idea of. That I did not believe her.

And I bid her remember my words before I left her there alone ... still crying hot tears against the cold of the night.

My Name is .. Fonce

Cana had told me there was something she wished to speak to me of just before I left .. allowing the women to coo and coddle the babes. But it was a couple of days later before I had a chance to find her.

She was cooking meat over coals and the smell made my stomach tighten with hunger .. Cana could always cook. She offered me a cup of blackwine and I readily accepted .. the heat soaking through the cup into my chilled hands and I savored the aroma laden steam as it bathed my face.

She asked me about my name. Fonce. It is not something I have spoken much of I suppose ... not something I am very comfortable with speaking of especially to the tender ears of a woman like Cana.. someone who I want to think well of me. I do not go around telling people that my name had to do with the idea that I was a bad omen. A darkness .. both within me .. and from me to others.

Do not get me wrong .. I am proud of my name for it is what makes me a Named Man. A man allowed to earn his courage scar .. a man allowed to live and own and take for himself. It is not a nice name. But it is my identity .. it is who I am ... for good .. or in this case ... for bad.

Cana asked me if I would mind if she named her First Daughter .. Fonce. My breath caught in my chest .. my mind frozen solid with fear. Why would anyone do that to their child? Why would you curse something so delicate and beautiful with that name? Why would anyone choose to carry on that heritage of darkness beyond me?

She said it was because I was a friend .. and she wished to honor that. I had to swallow the urge to yell at her never to allow such a thing. Never to curse her child like this. Surely .. if I just let her know the truth .. the real truth without any softened edges she would see .. and know. If I could paint for her my own portrait of a three year old boy and when it all became real for me.

But .. what if she never knew? What if she allowed the child to become Cana's version of my name? Blessing her with intent instead of what the name meant to me? Those that know the real unadulterated truth are a few elders .. not many of them left after this last move. Perhaps .. there was a chance that something so innocent and perfect could carry the weight of it beyond my own ability. If I just did not let the whole of the truth ever be heard by either of their ears.

I did however tell Cana .. that my name had been given because I was considered a bad omen .. a harbinger of darkness. She said she did not understand that .. how that could be. I did not fill her in or give her the reasons .. I did not expect her to understand .. I just had to tell her that much of the truth before I allowed her to do this to her First Daughter.

I told her .. I would allow it. Despite all my better judgements screaming like a dying man who begs for a second chance. I did tell her though to expect me to be protective. She thought I meant from normal everyday sorts of dangers that plague the life of all Tuchuk. But that is not the case. I will do anything to protect her from

..the meaning of my own name.

A Poem

It was not long before Silken joined Cana and I .. rushing up like a wagon was on fire. She seems to have a thing for babes like most women do .. only I think actually holding them got to her with her recent loss. It is always a hard thing to survive when you see the expense it takes from others.

She seems to be adjusting well though .. happy for the most part though I was a little disturbed by her idea that someone had taken a piss through the top of her wagon. The only way it would support anyone's weight would have been if it was a small child .. she would have had to really piss off someone to do something like that. No pun intended.

She also spoke of something else that disturbed me in a different way .. she was experiencing the phenomenon of sleep walking. It is not something I have come across outside of dream walking... perhaps that is what it is. I do not know. Seems something to be concerned about though. A dangerous thing.

Silken had a note delivered to me. Words meant to paint a picture of feelings and emotions written down in a form of cadence and rhyme.

I am not sure what to think of it .. it was well written but most people know how I feel about written words.

I did what I normally do with written words .. I built a small fire and consigned the parchment to flame .. letting the spirit of the thing free upon the wind .. the smoke of it to return to the Sky.

But I still feel I must address the content .. the meat of what was said. And I do not know how to do that. Words mean so little to me .. so easily used and manipulated that I tend to dismiss them. These words were a picture. Like a painting on the side of a wagon. Open to visual interpretation. Was my interpretation correct? Or merely in the eye of the beholder? I could not say .. I could not determine the artist's intent.

As I watched the words return to their true and rightful form I decided that I would wait and see what actions were given. These I would use as a lens to see the words through. Give them color and meaning. I would wait then .. allowing the artist to project her own meaning instead of applying my own.

Delicate Two

I was making my way to the main fires when I realized that Cana had gone into labor .. right there ... at the fires ... the word "now" becoming a very impacting and important sort of word to me.

I stopped so suddenly my boots dug up small divots in the soil and I could not crawl backwards through myself fast enough. Tarra was there with her .. she was going to be fine. I kept telling myself that and still gaped like a smooth cheeked boy .. torn between the need for flight and the desire to fight my own daemons for the sake of my friend .. but then I heard Ba'atar's voice and Jai was there .. I would have been nothing but a lump to trip over so I took the flight option and ran with it .. literally. Surely there was something I could fight .. kill ... protect the Tribe from. Those things a man feels comfortable with. At least .. this man.

Rumor had it later that Cana had given Ba'atar twin girls. That had to have the Ubar calling the Sky into question. Something that made me chuckle. Concerned with and pleased to hear that Cana was doing fine. Logic told me that she had done this a few times before and she seemed to be rather good at it .. but my own daemons would of course insist otherwise until I learned for sure.

I was headed in to the main fires seeking my one cup of blackwine that I took great pleasure in ... when I saw Cana seated by the Ubar's personal fire and I veered off to see her. She had the babes in a basket and they looked so small and helpless. She offered to let me hold one .. but that was too much for me ... I could not.

I can not look upon them .. babes that is ... without a bit of Tuchuk emotion and pride. Arrogance of man who says .. see this? We are a great nation full of strong men. In my better moments I will acknowledge a woman's part in it all. Usually though it is still a tribute to how awesome we are to have women this great. Not something I tend to say out loud though for it tends to get me cracked upside the head with a cooking pot when I least expect it.

I am in awe for the delicate perfect match of exquisite femininity. Such raw potential power for good or evil. It stops me .. making me watch and think and see beyond the moment and beyond the humanity. I wonder what the Sky has in store for these tiny fragments of beauty.

Sweet Dreams

The last few nights I have been haunted. By what I do not know. Something in my dreams that I can not get my hands on. Something I can not see. I have tossed and turned .. waking up in a sweat ... not sure why.

So last night .. I took a trip to the desert on a blood red kaiila. As I approached the in-between a great river opened up before me. Urging the beast into the water I rode him as he swam for the far shore .. but while we crossed small fish ate away at the beast and it screamed in pain. By the time we reached the shore the beast was a macabre mess of bone with strips of flesh clinging to it's frame. But he still carried me well .. and so we entered the desert together like that.

The first I saw was a tree .. alone upon the vast empty sand. I rode towards it and there sat a little girl .. high up in the branches. She studied me .. canting her head this way and that as I spoke to her and I asked her if she had seen anything new pass beneath the tree .. something that did not belong here. Something that she would not have recognized. Her avian smile was quick and cold but she shook her head .. her eyes darting to the right and the left of me as if she could see me better for the space I did not take up.

I turned in the saddle .. looking around me but I saw nothing besides the endless rolling dunes. When I looked back the avian girl was gone.. the branches empty and I felt very alone.

Suddenly the sand began to give way .. sucking the paws of the beast deeper and deeper .. he floundered attempting to escape but the more he did the worse he was caught .. I kicked free of the stirrups and jumped to grab a lower limb of the tree .. watching as the great skinless beast slowly sank with carnivore screams into the blazing sand. Then I felt the tree limb curling around my wrist .. holding me .. tightly. I panicked kicking at the trunk and jerking my arm attempting to free myself now ... despite the very real knowledge that to free myself from the branch would mean certain death from the sand. It was still a natural reaction and I could not help the desperation of being held against my will. But the limb did not give way .. though I clawed at it with my fingers until the nails ripped and tore deep enough to cause my fingers to bleed with the effort.

I woke thrashing and I yelled out something .. in a language I did not understand .. sweat covering my chest and stinging my eyes as I tried to figure out where I was.

I was inside my wagon .. Si slept beside me as if I had not just made enough noise to stampede the entire herd. My breath grating and rasping in my lungs and I rubbed at the blistered and welted marks on my wrist.

I had some answers now .. but there was still so much more I did not yet understand.

Aria of Beauty

How many years have I chased a song .. a melody like a brightly colored moth through the forests of my experience. Sought to capture a brief moment when that splash of Beauty might meet the touch of my fingers and I could experience the rush of aria as it hit my system like a finely crafted drug. A drug designed for me specifically. Made to fit my heights and depths. To reach across all my horizons and invade my most dangerous borders. To taste and to create taste while adapting to my flavors.

Unafraid of the parched wasteland of the desert. Loving the intense contrasts offered there. Stable enough to maintain source and intent .. despite the missing directive. Willing to travel .. slip into the air current and visit other less known and even more dangerous areas of internal design.

Now that it rests here before my eyes I am afraid to touch it. Afraid to mar the perfect design painted upon the exquisite and delicate wings. Will it fade? Will it die? I would rather chase it than to be forever scarred by the knowledge that it was less than I hoped for. That it could not live up to my incense tainted prayers. That all my dreaming had been in vain.

My faith forsaken for lesser sins.

The decision weighs there in the air like a burden .. like a task left uncompleted. It disturbs my dreams and spills over inserting nagging splinters into the flesh of my days. Working deeper beneath my skin until I feel invaded and insane with the desire to cut them out .. but still unwilling to give in to the manipulations of it all.

The chase grown still .. the desire frozen. Gelid need for something .. anything to warm the edges and give me direction. Promise me something .. anything. Forgive me all .. immunity granted for this one act.

There is no answer .. no whisper tips the balance which still hovers like a virgin's held breath ... drawn in at the final moment before she is forever changed beyond nature's ability to reverse. There is only the fluttering rhythm that marks life still there .. waiting ...

for me

.. to decide.

©2009 Written in response to .. Beauty

A Friend

I found Cana and Tarra at the fires and I settled in for a comfortable conversation but Tarra left soon after I arrived.

I spoke to Cana about Yamka .. some of my thoughts .. certainly not all of them. We spoke of prospects in general. I spoke of my natural cruelty .. that I tend to play "good Tuchuk" more because there are plenty playing "bad Tuchuk" and it is harder for me to step up and be nice. A challenge to myself .. if you will. She told me she had noticed that I do not allow people close very often. I suppose that is true .. but to be honest I do not see that many who wish to be close to me. There are a few who tell me so .. I do not deny that. But very few who act like they do. Actions have to meet words for me to give any kind of credence to the idea. The concept means nothing to me without that.

She said she felt honored that I allowed her in. It amuses me a little because I do not allow any such thing. It just is .. mostly because she has never made me sorry for talking to her. Even when we argued or disagreed I never felt she judged me as a man or a Tuchuk. She perhaps judged my opinions or ideas .. which is her Sky given right .. but she never made me sorry for having my own ... no matter how different or caustic they may have been. No matter how wound up I got .. I always feel comfortable asking her questions .. working things out in my head and using her as a sounding board. If there is a living soul that gives my mother any kind of preferred memory .. it is Cana. I never knew my mother .. but I would not have wanted her to be perfect. I would want her to be real. Even when it made me angry.

I finally got around to asking Cana about Yamka's idea .. and Silken's seemed agreement ... that it was preferable to be a mate to a man she did not like rather than to be as slave to a man she loved. Cana's initial assumption was that this was along the same lines as the conversations we have had in the past about slave verses free. Which it is .. but it is different. Back then we spoke of the nature of women .. and I am rather comfortable with the idea that there are women who should never be slaves. That their nature is to be free.

But I have to say this idea unnerved me. Would a woman be my mate .. a woman who did not even like me? A woman who was in love with another man that would not accept her in any way but on her knees? Would someone .. a Tuchuk ... would a woman actually do me such a disservice? Would she take that place with me merely to bear children and fulfill the idea of her own destiny while loathing me? What was the point of waiting to find some woman who understood me if that was all I had to look forward to? To take a woman simply for the sake of heirs is a common practice and not one that I disagree with .. merely I sought something more. Understanding.

You see .. I am not an easy man to get along with. I am not an easy man to live with. I can not express myself in the ways that endear people to me. I am plagued with apathy when I should have emotion and I am plagued with emotions when it would be best for me not to feel. Many times my expressions have found vent in anger and brutality. I destroy the very things I want so badly. So it is .. that if I could have any one thing from a woman .. I must reiterate yet again that it would be .. understanding.

She had no answer for me .. other than to be careful. She did not tell me it would not happen .. or that I was mistaken. She told me that indeed there were women who would do such. She told me to listen to my heart .. I told her I was not worried about the lies of my own heart but the lies of someone else's. She told me that was a good worry to have.

great

Not that any of this is something I have to figure out this moment. I have no feelings for any woman .. no urges to take another mate right now. And though it pains me to see the children of my Brothers for they remind me of my great plans which have returned to the Sky .. I have not given up on them entirely. Many seem to have forgotten T'zuri .. but she is still fresh in my mind. She meant a lot to me .. I miss her. I miss how she could dance around my anger and my frustrations and keep me from delving into my darkest parts. She never wanted to know those parts .. I never wanted her to know them. I never wanted them to touch her in any way. I miss her patience with me as I tried to figure out what it is I really wanted. Throwing her from free to collar to free .. she never punished me for my own lack of direction. She let me define my desire in any way I needed at the time .. and she was just .. there for me... challenging me on ever step but deferring to me at the same time.

Cana told me she was sorry. Sorry for how things turned out. I told her not to be .. not to be sorry. I was not ... if there is something I know about life as a Tuchuk it is that the Sky gives and takes away and I was fortunate to have known T'zuri ... to have shared what we did and I was a better person for it. T'zuri's impact on my life was nothing but positive. Women who enter my life from this point forward should thank the Sky for her .. for she has made the path a little easier .. a little less dangerous ... a bit more comfortable.

I am thankful also for Cana .. who sat and listened to all my rambling and venting with patience .. perhaps it was simply she was too tired to get up and move away from the fires .. but I am thinking it is more that she is just a very .. good ... friend.

The Prospect Ogedaii

Ogedaii has decided to take me up on my challenge and come to the First Fires. He reminds me a lot of Pacu .. same lack of restraint in a lot of ways but something ancient about him as well.

The years between have given Pacu and I a comfortable friendship .. but not a friendship that grows any more. Oren refuses to move the family's wagons forward again. She says her time around the First Fires was enough to last her a lifetime. I am not sure what that means. Pacu could make her .. of course ... but he is not inclined to do so. He says much the same .. only with more colorful phrases.

I still spend a lot of my evenings there with them .. eating and feeling that warmth .. that comfortable connection. I suppose as it is with any normal family .. people move on and grow. I just do not have an example to work off of to say .. ah ... this is how it should be. It strikes me as different and I kick it around and try to figure it out.

But back to Ogedaii. I was a little concerned that he would take people at the First Fires too seriously. They can be a little elitist and snub other Tuchuk despite their own humble beginnings .. but he did not and I have to give him kudos for his easy ways with them all ready. He did very well .. and I could not help but be proud of my new .. well ... I am not sure what he is.

We have not known each other long enough to be friends .. and yet acquaintance does not sound right either. We have shared blood and death together .. as Tuchuk we share soil and grass. There is a connection there not limited to the fact he saved my life. We seem to work easy in each other's space .. even if I want to kill him half of that time. I am sure the feeling must be mutual though .. at least he stepped in when it would have been so easy to refrain.

A man speaks for himself .. walks his own path. It is a heavy responsibility to say you will speak for a man. His words and deeds to rest on my shoulders. It is not something I take lightly and have done it for precious few through the years. So far I do not regret it.

Many Moods of Silken

When Silken joined Leonette and I she greeted me with a wide toothy smile.

Seems she is feeling a little better.

She had heard of the old woman's stitches and wanted to see it for herself. I told her it was fine. I even gave her my word that if it started bothering me I would let her look at it. She denied that I would .. I gently but firmly reminded her that I had indeed given my word. And she listened to me. Mostly. A lot of protesting but no fight.

That was the second woman that had not given me any verbal knock-down-drag-out fights about my shoulder. That was odd.

But it actually was all right. Just sore. Kept working it open but I had tasks that could not be allowed to fall to the side.

How soon I seem to forget that all of it happened so damned well without me for a long time.

Honestly ... I think that is one of the things I am working the hardest to forget.

Watching the dynamics between Leonette and Silken would have been rather fascinating had they not done their best to make me the toy in between. More Silken than Leonette ... tugging me into the middle I mean. But the times of teasing were one of those palpable moments where Leonette seemed to flare with color and life. The two of them appeared happy .. carefree even ... for a little while.

It is one of those facets of beauty. When a woman forgets things and simply lives in a bubble of a moment. Allows herself to feel .. expressions without constraint. Nothing seems to touch her .. she is safe. Safe to feel and lift her face to the Sky.

I count it a privilege to have been there. It showed me the parts I remember about the two of them that seem to be falling in the cracks lately. Not denying who they are now .. just a small painted picture of the whole.

It made me feel less the stranger here.

Silken is much more .. Silken. Busting out of her seams. Not that I miss those flashes when she remembers things .. unpleasant things. But I see it less than before. I saw more today of the drive-to-survive that I look for in every Tuchuk. That .. not ready to die ... part. Not until they take my beating heart from my chest ... part. Those are my favorite parts of the Tuchuk.

I am still a little unsettled by the many moods of Silken. Sometimes when I talk to her I have to double check to see if I am talking to someone else .. mistaking her for Silken. But today I had no doubts.

I wonder if I will ever see the Silken that Silken does not wish anyone to see. If I will ever get passed all the masks .. known or new. I wonder what is buried beneath .. deep inside. It is a strong something .. a something that adapts to survive but does not like to do so. Something that would much rather be accepted for what it is .. something that peeks through the thickest of her shields.

I think of Silken like a crystal. A prism of glass that somehow has all of the facets taken apart and sorted out in nice little rows. Like she chooses one at a time to wear according to her assessment of which one is most likely to be accepted. Once in a while she gets it wrong and all hell breaks loose. Which I believe amuses her to some degree .. until she faces some unpleasant consequence. If she just moves quick enough and keeps changing facets she can stay ahead of the game.

Speaking of games .. I think there is one she wishes to play with me. I am just not sure yet which game it is and if it is one that I am willing to play. My plan at this point is to just sit still and see which facet she chooses and .. wonder what it would be like if she ever got them all together at one time and refracted light like she was intended to.

For Now .. She Sleeps Perchance A Dream

I have discovered something about myself. About the way I remember things. Sometimes I remember things all out of order. Like I remember people in a way that was .. but not the last was that was. A previous was. A was that was before the last was and then slowly the last was tickles my synapses and I am slightly embarrassed.

As if ... perhaps if they knew I remembered a different was than was a current was they would know some secret about how my mind works. Reading into it some assumptions on what I really want. Which is more than I know. Not to say I am denying that to be true .. just would rather work it all out in my own time without someone pushing me along.

When I strode up to the fires today Leonette spoke to me without looking up .. as is her way. Or was her way .. seems to still be her way. To recognize people by movements and sounds. She is much like I remember her .. but distant. Not quite real. I think if I tried to touch her she would shimmer and fade from my sight like a mirage.

She told me she had two kaiila for me. I was pleased to hear this for Leonette has always had a way with the beasts .. even when she was collared ... which of course is one of those was moments that is not a current was and .. not something I should be remembering. But she was .. or is.

She said she had been meaning to bring them by to me .. but had not. I asked her why. She said she was not sure how she would feel to see me when she did. And well .. I remembered that was and it was not a very nice was and I could well understand her not wanting to go there.

So I asked her how it was now that she had seen me. Since I never learn and always seem to let things out of my mouth I should not.

She said I was here .. safe and tangible. But it seemed to be a positive thing .. or at least not so bad a thing as it could have been. I told her that I was not always sure that tangible and me in the same sentence was a good thing.

She offered to clean the dirty bandage for me .. I told her it was fine. I did not jump when she barely touched me. That is a was that seems to have changed. I will have to think about that later.

It got to that awkward part where you try to catch up and I asked about Ramza and if she had any children. Seemed like everyone at the First Fires was doing so .. but that is where things got really confusing.

I tried to understand what she told me but I failed miserably .. I did get out if it that she did not have any. I also got out of it that it was not a good thing .. but not such a bad thing that either one of them seemed to be letting it get in the way of their relationship. I think. Like I said I did not follow that part of the conversation very well.

There was more to it but .. nothing that helped my confusion. She seems to flicker .. one moment seeming warm and alive and breathing and the next .. pale and distant like a barely remembered dream as you slip into waking conscious. One moment I want to shake her and make her wake up .. and the next I am convinced that if I even barely lay my hands on her she will drift like mist through my fingers and be gone.

Cool Touch

Pain. Something I am well acquainted with. A thing known to me.. familiar. Time marked by levels. Mostly dull .. shoved back to the recesses of my conscious. At times awake and sharp .. clawing at my attention for immediate relief. I think I would be afraid to have no pain. Afraid that I would not know myself .. that it would be so strange that I must be certain something is terribly wrong.

Tonight the pain is real and fresh and sharp. My usual nearly feverish body temperature is turned up a notch or two. Restless heated trails through my brain like scarlet ribbons .. and I follow them as if they might lead me to some soothing moment where the air is not laden and thick. It seems forever since a deep clear breath filled my lungs .. but I am too tired to try to recapture it.

Tonight my arm seems an annoying beast chained to my body and I would wish it well away if I slipped any further into this than I am. But I am lucid enough to know it is simply the process .. the natural course of the wound itself and it will pass.

It always does.

Not so much for those we left behind. Their flesh left for the birds and beasts of the plains. To rot away to time until their garish grins are left to mock the Sky and welcome strangers to the Plains.

I wish I could remember .. the desert time. It is marked by a changes in me. One .. an ability to sleep easier beside another. To not care. I can not think it is because I am so trusting now .. so wrapped in warmth and good will that I no longer believe my internal warnings. No .. more like something much darker .. much more intense to shove me out on the other side of it all. Passed the fear where there is an apathy for it. Much like hunger .. starved to the point of finding food no longer tempting. It is an interesting concept to me .. but not so interesting that it kept me awake.

Her touch .. is cool to my skin. Even the core of her is many degrees below my own without the touch of fever in my veins. There was a certain pleasure that I can not deny .. in that touch. What is it now that lets me bear it and feel the pleasure of it? I am wary of such good things that come to my feet for I find no reason to believe that I have changed so much. Nothing to tie it to and say .. here ... this is why. You can believe because this is how it came to be.

There is more here in the shadows. One more can not be too many .. can it? One more seemingly innocent harmless guest. I can almost see its milk white fangs in the darkness.

But until it deems me worthy to show itself I shall allow the cool touch to sooth away the edges of my fervid dreams and accompany me as I pass through the land of in-between.

Where I .. Live

There is a place .. a desert ... where I live. There is a time .. that is forever with no day or night but measured by the moments between pain. This is a land of muted color where children live and share a toy of vivid reality.

There are Gatekeepers. Three girls .. an Oracle .. a Mute ... and a Cripple. There is a dark haired boy Sage. A curious Avian child and a cloaked ..scarred disfigured youth with only one eye.

They are the Watchers .. the interpreters ... the guardians of the puzzle box. They hold the questions for the answers. They decide the fate of others beyond the desert. The power to create and to destroy.

Beauty ... my First Love .. have you always been there with me or have I only known you recently? Did you join me by a whisper so many years ago or have you only just now felt the sand against your feet?

Have you plied your wares upon my conscience and have I then by chance and intent connected you with every unfinished broken rhyme that haunts my opiate moments?

Or have you always touched me and was I then too far away to know? To realize? To feel? Shrouded and protected in my faithlessness.

Poppy's breath a veil of doubt that leaves the moors of my mind in a lonely mist inhabited by misunderstandings .. fears and doubts. Monstrous lies that given one careless chance would prey upon my mortal ego .. feed upon my tenuous arrogance. Gutting me upon perceptions and slaying my most guarded weak attempts at solving life.

Wounded and bleeding through the years were you there with me? Nightingale's song among the broken corpses of the battlefield .. a breath of spring among the fetid stench of inevitable pending death and decay. Did you brave those moments with me? Sweetest Maggot .. ingesting the worst of my rot so that I lived to fight another day.

Darkling .. my inspiration and muse ... have I summoned you in this form so different every time? Or have you always hovered just above my understanding. Patient with my oblivious wanderings and feeble mutterings in the face of your true form. While I .. rested weary and pained upon the breast of one I thought was you.

Is this visitation real? Or yet another transient vestal virgin I will remake and reform later to clear my conscious of unpardonable sins. Are you destined to consummate my creative seed or are you one more sacrifice on the alter of my insatiable need to sanctify. Slaughtered for the sake of lifting my prayers beyond the border of the desert.

Do you hold the answers that match the questions here? Or are you one more visitor merely curious for the oddity. Daring the danger of the puzzle box to wet your own appetites for something other than the norm. Nursing your maladjusted masochistic tendencies on the sharp edge my sadistic thirst like a babe clutching a mother's tit.

Time will tell. Love .. a word I have never known to be real beyond my imaginings ... will prevail. Fate will decide ... But until then I will await you in ...

the place where I live.

©2009 Written in the name of .. Beauty

Worthless Pink

I finally went and picked up my slave .. the girls kicked her out of the wagon and I had to chuckle as she fell at my feet. She does not appear to be much ..a little thing. Soft and pink .. used to easy living. Now she probably does not think she has been accustomed to easy living. But a free Tuchuk lives a much harder life than any city slave. Let alone a Tuchuk slave. That is just a fact. What makes it worth it is the rewards. The depth of living that you get from the life that you lead. The difference between a constricted breath and a deep .. fresh-air filled one.

She seemed a little surprised that I pressed her further than her vague .. colorless answers to my questions. No one .. is that pathetically boring. She finally filled in a little .. enough that I was satisfied and moved on. It is clear she is used to moving through people without disturbing the flow of things too much. Like a fish through water .. few ripples. The fewer ripples the less she is noticed and the more she is allowed to live as she pleases.

The plains have a habit of stripping away all those easily manufactured masks. You can not stand in the grass and stretch your arms out .. looking around you at nothing but horizon. Not a thing to break it up .. the same in every direction .. seeming forever ... endless. You can not be that small within a vast greatness without being reduced to who you really are.

I gave her a few simple tasks. She was to eat after me. From my bowl or plate. Collect the dung chips to keep us warm or sleep outside in the cold. She was stripped of her meager silk clothing and allowed only the warmth of the furs in my wagon for the first couple of days but to avoid permanent damage from frostbite she was given the usual slave attire of a Tuchuk slave plus a fur jacket .. boots and gloves .. and a little fur cap with flaps to pull down over her ears.

I cared little for the gifts I gave my slave. What had been carefully chosen for others were handed out for survival. No longer did I have the hopes for anything from anyone. There were no big plans .. no dreams made flesh. If I looked for anything in the days to come it was perhaps to notice if she survived or not.

She was not only a slave .. she was a dweller slave. Pathetic soft and pink flesh susceptible to the harsh Tuchuk plains living . She was nothing special .. nothing about her stood out... save her eyes. She meant nothing to me .. and that is how it should be.

She was nothing but a worthless pink.

Do This for Me

I saw Tarra at the fires today. It was good to see her. She does not look like she is ready to take on the whole of Turia yet .. but to see her up and talking to us all was a big relief. I will wait until she gets a chance to talk to all the people that will be lining up to speak to her and then I will make my way over to the Clan fires when she is there and let her know I am pleased she is doing better.

Brayce is back. I suppose the reports of his death were premature. He seemed alive enough to me as he hoisted Yamka over his shoulders. I will say Yamka handled it very well. Though she was quick to protest that she was not ready to be claimed due to lack of like for any warrior. I would have been remiss if I had missed the chance to remind her that not so long ago she told me that liking was not an issue to be considered for such things.

I made my way back to the Sleen Handler's fires. There I spoke again to Ogedaii .. this time without violence. Well .. at least violence between Ogedaii and myself. We spoke of his new slave and I made the rookie mistake of getting too close to where she was chained. She jumped me and latched onto my sore shoulder. Surprised the hell out of me .. little bitch. I grabbed her by one breast and took a fistful of her pussy and I threw her against the side of the wagon. She fell and rolled over and was either unconscious or smart enough not to move again. Ogedaii went back to speaking and I told him I would like him to move up to the First wagons. He was not sure about the idea and I understood but I also told him to think about it.

It was there that I was approached by a young Spex. She was rather beautiful but I did not know her personally. She spoke to me in a low soft voice and asked me if I was willing to do a favor for Aod. I said of course. I owed Aod a lot and not only for that but as one of the Elders of my Clan. The young Spex asked me to go see her so I nodded that I would. She left and Ogedaii wanted to know all about her but I could not help him .. I had no idea. But I did tell him I would ask around and find out her name .... just for him.

When I finally left the Sleen Handler's fires I made my way to the Clan and sought out Aod. We spoke together and it came out that what she wanted was for me to keep my eye on a great great granddaughter of hers. Her parents had decided to send her up to the First Wagons. She was the daughter of a Spex and a Drummer and had chosen the Drummer's Clan to follow .. but she was a favored grandchild of Aod's and she knew I could be trusted to look after her. Now I must have given Aod a look because she chuckled like she new an inside joke.

What was she thinking? Me? I am not good at looking after anyone ... including myself. Let alone a young female. But it was not in me to tell her no .. not Aod. I was just going to have to get my shoulder down into it and figure it out.

Her name turned out to be Kirei. I told Aod I could look after her but that she would still have to get to know everyone at the Fires and make a place for herself. Aod understood .. but she gave me that look again.

I hate it when people make me want to be better than I am.

And damn it .. I forgot to get that little Spex's name. Which reminds me .. I wonder how I am going to keep Kirei out of the way of Ogedaii. This is going to be a pain in my ass.

Dance of Emotions

I had torn my shoulder loose a little on Ogedaii .. I felt the moisture within the bandage. But it did not matter much .. I had some riding to do and then I made my way towards the main fires .. still seeking food and company.

The company turned out to be Silken and Yamka. Seemed I did not need to go seeking Silken out in the wagon for she had been released .. it was good to see her by the main fires. Well .. mostly.

She was .. like a shadow ... of Silken. Once more her words were watered down and mixed with politeness. That is .. when she disturbed herself enough to speak. I felt like I was a stranger to her .. instead of someone she had been speaking to rather personally .. at the wagon. It called into question for me everything she had said .. all she had expressed.

I am not sure what I would have expected to see in her. Perhaps joy .. relief? Some kind of excitement to feel the Central Fire on her face and the breeze against her cheeks. Bare her head to the rain and let the insides of her open up to the Sky. Bubbling up of gratefulness for those who had spoken for her .. rallied around her and protected her.

Perhaps the things she said to me at the wagon were merely said under duress. I can well imagine the tricks and hauntings of the mind within enclosed space. It is not something I would wish upon my worst enemy. Well that is not true .. I would. But Silken was not my worst enemy. Perhaps it had been too much. Perhaps she was not strong enough to get through it to the other side. Perhaps it had broken something inside.

How many masks could she wear? Which one was real? Which one was who she really was? I felt confused .. I did not push her. To me it would have been like poking at a wounded kaiila foal. Just not in me to do. Perhaps I was a mere port in a storm and she was capable and willing to move on as if we had never spoken as friends. I can not say .. I will give it time and allow her space to be whomever it is she has chosen to be. It is not for me to tip the balance either way.

Yamka said something that turned the conversation. She said that perhaps someone had spoken to her father for he no longer used the whip. Interesting. I asked her if she was disappointed. She looked at me as if I were insane. But I had damn good reason for asking such of her. She had told me that the whippings .. were a sign of her father's love. If that is so .. then did she miss her father's love? Did she feel an emptiness there where it had once been expressed? If she could interpret the welts and scars on her back as love .. was she capable of seeing his love expressed differently? Had he found a new way? It was my experience .. limited as it is ... that to find a new way is not that easy nor quickly done.

Ask Leonette.

Yamka said that she was thankful for her father's love. His discipline .. because it helped her be different than her friend. Which statement of course led to more questions on my part .. coming to find that her friend had submitted to a man because she wanted him and was not willing to be without him. So I asked .. was it more important to be free and claimed by a man that you did not necessarily even like .. or was it more important to be with a man you loved even if it meant at his feet as a slave? They both answered it was more important to be free .. than to be with the man you loved.

Interesting.

Were their answers due to real knowledge? Or had neither of them ever really been in love to know? I must wonder. Though I am a man and I do know that my opinions mean very little to the mind of a woman. I have learned that the hard way.

I find the entire thing rather interesting and worthy of more study. I wish T'zuri was here to ask .. she always challenged my understandings of such things. Perhaps I will ask Cana. Though it is a rather personal sort of thing to ask she has never made me feel foolish nor been afraid to speak to me of things even though they were perhaps dangerous for a free woman to even consider to anyone but their mate .. and even then sometimes not so wise. But Cana knows me .. knows it is my genuine desire to understand ...

yes I shall ask Cana.

CANA

Just a Note

It was growing late by the time we made ready to return to Camp. Several wagons were hooked together and driven while the rest of us rode .. sweeping out to guard what we had taken.

The little bit of slave flesh had lost her stomach on the side of Rocca. Poor kaiila. I have no idea what turned her stomach .. if it was the idea of being taken .. the blood and death around her ... the kaiila sweaty fur smell right under her nose .... whatever it was I was amused. Patted her on the small round rump of her ass and told her it would get better. I am sure by the dry smirk in my tone she knew I was lying. Which of course only amused me more.

By the time we got back to Camp I was all in. Tired as the day I was born and twice as grumpy. I took the slave to the slave wagons .. dropped her off there to be taken care of until I was up to it. Veered off and went to find a Healer that was still up and willing to deal with me at this time of night. Turned out to be an ugly old woman .. but her fingers were deft and skilled which was all I could ask for really.

I finally braved my wagon .. slept for an entire day ... before venturing out looking for food and company. First though I took that blade with the runes and scripting wrapped in paper like a gift to the Sleen Handler's fires looking for Ogedaii. Found him there and walked right up to him and pulled back my fist slugging him in the stomach .. as the air rushed out of his mouth I gave him an echo of an uppercut that smashed his lips against his teeth setting him back with a crash into a wagon wheel. He was looking at me like I was insane .. blood running through his fingers as he brought his hand to his mouth.

I tossed him the blade and he caught it .. watching me now like a herlit as he got to his feet.

"Do not ever disobey a direct order again .. Ogedaii ... and by the way ...

thank you."

Jungle Slave .. or Kataii Daemon

I was still gasping for breath and wiping blood out of my eyes when Ogedaii asked me if I was going to leave the blade in my shoulder for good luck or if I was leaving it there to impress the women and get myself laid.

I really was going to kill him.

After shooting him a very dry look .. all I had the strength for at the moment but no less threatening... I strode back to the big dead fucker and bracing my boot on his thick hide I jerked my blade out wiping it off on his greasy hair.

Ogedaii was finally doing something useful .. like cutting his arrows back out of the corpses as were the other archers. The rest were organizing what was to be valued from the loot drug out of the wagons. The wagons of course would be kept and revamped into good Tuchuk homes. Wood and metal were never wasted. All in all it was a good haul. Of course anything was a good haul when you did not lose any of your own men.

The slaves were lined up and .. being the commander ... I gave Ogedaii first choice as I promised him. Small price for saving my life .. even if I was going to kill him for it later.

There was another slave among the rest .. appeared Arian perhaps or some derivative thereof. I can not tell you what about her caught my eye. She was not outstanding in any way my attention would usually be caught by. Unless it was her eyes. Perhaps that was it. In any case she was the only loot I took from the raid. It was enough .. since I had spent a majority of it unconscious beneath the fucking mountain.

She was taken to be bound wrist and ankle and gagged before she was thrown over my saddle. A pretty enough piece of flesh.

It was only then that I slowly pulled the blade from my shoulder and shoved a torn piece of my tunic through the hole. Tying the rest of the cloth around to secure the plug. The blade was ornate and different than anything I had ever seen. It had runes and script that I did not understand. And ... thought nothing of at the time.

Ogedaii was parading his conquest around .. though I did see he had gagged her with several strips of leather .. every once in a while the two of them going at it ... looked like a love match to me. The kind of love that leaves bruises and blood trails.

I was curious though .. about her appearance .. something was not right there. Some other story beneath the one that appeared to be obvious. Much like the story around the entire caravan. Too bad we killed everyone .. I would have liked to ask some questions.

Perhaps I would ask the little savage beast herself.

The Earning of a Courage Scar

"It's a sign we shouldn't touch em." Fury said. Fury was not his real name but it was how we all referred to him now. Boy had a real temper on him. His hatchet face coated with dust.

I leaned over the top of my shield .. black eyes searching the line of wagons that stretched out before us while we waited for them .. hidden in a bosk wallow ... kaiila laid down waiting for the charge. Their standard was a mess of what looked like filthy dweller burial rags and bones. Fearful looking thing I did not blame the lad for getting superstitious about it. Was not normal .. had the feel of savagery and death all over it. The breeze toying with the bones so they lived with sound as well as movement. But there was something .. I can be as superstitious as the next Tuchuk .. sometimes more so. But there was something not real about it all though I could not peg exactly why I felt that way. I was the only Spex among them .. as well as being their commander and they looked to me to ease their fears and I spat to the side with disgust. "Nothing but a bunch of pink dweller flesh that will split open nicely beneath our blades."

There were eleven of us. Given the orders. Checking it out .. ascertaining threat and risk as apposed to benefit. They all looked to me .. "Weapons" The word met with an answering grin from each.

We were not unaware of what we were facing. Possible death .. or worse. Each of us old enough to not clutter the moment with false bravado and self importance .. but young enough not to be too serious about it either. I knew each .. save one. A young man ..Ogedaii ... about my age. Not as many scars but a weight of experience in his black eyes. Almost hidden though by the irreverence that marked every line of his posture. Something I liked about him. But he was untried with me in battle so I kept my eye on him for now.

"Bows." I pointed to four .. including Ogedaii to take out the riders we could see. It would be the signal the rest of us would take to urge our kaiila up and charge. They would cover us until we were too close and then they would join. It was with some hesitancy that I allowed Ogedaii to be one of the archers .. though there is not a Tuchuk who can not use a bow ... I usually left that to men I had more experience with. No one wants to go down under friendly fire. But Ogedaii had asked to show me his skill and there is only one way to try a man by battle .. and that is with ... battle. You can shoot all day at a target on the kaiila track but that target does not shoot back at you.

The hiss .. the signal .. the screams of men echoed that signal as spurs dug into kaiila hide and the beasts lunged to their paws and sprang over the edge of the wallow charging the line of wagons. One of their riders was down .. his kaiila screaming on top of him while he was screaming beneath. Another lay sprawled in the grass with two shafts protruding from his chest far beyond the ability to scream .. ever again.

We were on them ..I heard Fury screaming like the insane freak he was as I split open the heart of a guard with the tip of my lance. Well .. that is the nicer explanation of what I did.. that is how it was supposed to go. I am still not back to my full self and my hand was too heavy .. so yes I split his heart and shoved it right through the backside of his ribs .. which left my lance buried too deep and I had to let it go. I swore and wheeled the kaiila back around drawing two of my quiva letting one blade bury itself deep in the skull of the man spitted on my lance just in case he was still inclined to live. A warrior can never be too careful .. not much time to stop and take a pulse. The other stayed in my hand as I jumped from my saddle and grabbed the edge of the wagon seat to take out the driver. He lunged at me and grabbed my wrist and we swayed like that in a macabre dance for a moment. His fetid dweller breath hot on my face. I was cursing hand to hand combat for I was not strong enough yet for it when I saw the man's eyes bulge just before blood bubbled up out of his mouth as he coughed into my face. I shoved him from me and I saw the arrow sticking from the back of his neck as he fell away. Someone was still shooting arrows.

Ogedaii.

I was going to kill him ... as soon as I thanked him. Or .. I was going to thank him ... as soon as I killed him. Perhaps at the same time ... I had not made up my mind yet.

Just then there was the biggest bellow I have ever heard come from two legs. A great big mother fucking Kur of a man jumped from inside the wagon. And I was in his sights.

figures

He had long blonde greasy hair tied up here and there in polished bones. His face was a crisscross of jagged white lines and his nose showed it had been broken time after time .. smashed and bent sideways forever. He had a blade in his hand and he looked like he could use it.

I turned to meet him but the wagon lurched and my boot slipped on the seat about the time I felt the sickening squelching impact as the blade buried itself into my shoulder. He latched onto me like I was his long lost brother .. but it was not brotherly love in his little tarsk eyes. I felt the strain of his hold on my spine and I let my upper body go limp while shoving off the wagon seat with my boot sending us both over onto the ground .. the ground a long way beneath us ... the ground that was very hard. I broke his fall.

figures

By the time the world around me came back into focus and I started dragging the first searing painful breaths back into my lungs I realized the big fucker had impaled himself on my blade when we fell. It took all my strength to shove him off me .. coughing and trying to will my lungs to expand after being squished into paper thin remnants of what lungs should look like.

The rush of battle was over and the men were dragging loot out of the wagons spreading things around the plains until it looked like the aftermath of the Love Wars. Shit everywhere. I leaned my hands on my knees and fought with my lungs for a bit. Was not the most glorified stance but fuck .. it hurt.

"FONCE!" I heard my name and turned to find the source ... Ogedaii was hanging almost sideways out of a wagon excitedly gesturing me to come over. I stared at him for a moment .. then grunted and made my way to the wagon. Inside were a number of slaves ... but there was one in a cage .. a fierce savage looking little beast. Dark skinned like a kataii but she was wearing strange skins and bones for jewelry. Someone had filed her teeth sharp. She was scarred .. a fighter ... but none of the scars were as deep and wicked looking as the one that started at her left shoulder and traced down ravaging her left breast. She hit the bars snarling and snapping her teeth at Ogedaii and he grinned.

Foreplay.

"Fonce! I want this one!" I chuckled and nodded .. you can have your pick of them Ogedaii .. but enjoy her tonight for tomorrow .. when I get my breath back ...

I am going to kill you.

Almost

What Beauty rests upon my brow
In thoughts
The kind of Beauty brought to lip
By ancient artisans of words
And song
I am but a lowly knave when in such company.

And yet
Still I try to form the syllables
Around the sounds that feel to my tongue
Like her breath upon my cheek..
Or the tips of her fingers across my chest.
Can such a tender thing be so powerful
As to reset the beating of my heart?
The rhythm of my lungs?

Her smile reaches across the scope and span
Of my existence
Opening up for me worlds known only to my
Imagined travels
How rich and varied these are .. Unbelievable to most..

And yet
She dances upon their edges in a balancing act
That defies my sense of predictable gravity
And I am lost to the sensation.

How brave is Beauty
For to fall is to be damned
The edges stained by the blood of innocents
Their future washed away in their own ichor
Drenched assumptions.
How naive
And brutal a fate for such as these
Sacrificed on the alter of my own inevitable cruelty ..
My petulant demandings for Tribute.
How quickly they burn away like paper dolls
In the fire of my self-righteous indignation for their weakness.

Still.. with bandaged feet and fingers she dances
Caught in some kind of masochistic frenzied purpose that
I can not understand nor barely can I trust.
Yet I find myself enraptured by her faith
That she will survive ..
And .. Almost ... I believe in her.

©2009 Written for the sake of .. Beauty

A Message

I went around to ask about Tarra and I was told she was not doing well at all. Hovering unconscious between life and death and they could not tell me which side she was weighing in on the most. It was a lot more serious than I thought or had been led to believe. Not that I had asked .. just figured someone would tell me ... guess that is what I get for assuming.

So Talking to Tarra was out of the question. At least .. talking like normal people do their talking which is only one of several ways to communicate. Now I had no idea what path Tarra was on but I figured I could at least let her know there were some other people out here thinking about her and letting her rest easy in their thoughts.

The basic idea of it is not hard. You work with the elements .. slip inside of them. Wear them until they becomes like an extension of you. Use them like you use a kaiila .. a lance ... or a lariat. Like a tool .. you work with instead of work against. Nature has given us all the tools we need. You just have to reach out and use them. Some are more powerful than others .. some are designed for more specific tasks .. but all in all a tool is a tool. Now it is possible to combine and formulate some of those tools into .. amalgamations. But the thing you run into there is that the more complicated you make it .. the more you force a tool to work against it's own laws .. the weaker it gets. There is a fine line where you cross over from a creatively good idea .... into a really bad dangerous one.

Where the hard part came in was not knowing exactly where Tarra was at. I doubted she was hanging around in her head. Her head was probably a rather uncomfortable place right now. Would be the last place you would find me either. Wait until your body becomes more inhabitable .. then decide if you want to return or not. And if you can not? Well time to move on.

So I took a walk through the grass and I talked to the children of the rain and I painted my message with fire on the breath of the wind.

A Hand

I am starting to fill out my clothes. Not all there yet but they do not hang on me like they were there for a while. Looking less like a dried old piece of jerky and a little more like a man that has barely seen his twenty-fifth year.

I have found a lot to do around the wagons when I am not riding with the herd. Helping here and there .. small stuff ... getting my strength back. Usually stealing stuff out of the cooking pots while I am at it. Perks of being limited in what I can do.

I went back to check on Silken. Seems I am one of few allowed to talk to her and .. I know I would want to talk to someone ... in her place.

She is not looking so well. In fact I told her she looked like shit. Sort of jumped out of my mouth before I really thought about it. Usually I know better than to tell a woman anything of the sort even if it is true. Not wise. However .. wise or not ... in this case the truth outweighed my sense of good judgement. I also asked her what the hell she was wearing .. had some sort of fabric wrapped around her like she lived in the jungle .. like it was not the middle of winter. Then she told me Shi had cut her clothes off. Now I can understand that .. done it a few times myself. Good foreplay. Then she said it was because he wanted her to understand she was a woman.. not a man.

huh

I wondered if getting naked helped out any with that. Did not seem to me to be an issue of seeing a pussy and a pair of tits and going .. "well fuck I had no idea. Damn good thing you showed me that! Could have gotten really embarrassing. Glad we could clear that up."

But the mysterious ways of others is not mine to unravel so I left it pretty much alone. Well .. as alone as I leave anything. I gave her my tunic though .. just did not seem right standing there talking to a woman of the Tribe .. our En Healer and another man's mate dressed the way she was. Not right at all.

I told her about her kids. They all seemed healthy enough and pretty sure their mom was going to stomp the shit out whatever had her down. I would have agreed with them .. that is until I saw her. Like I said ...

I asked her a few questions .. getting where her head was at. Seemed in the same place it had been the last time I talked to her so I was relieved. Though I can see the edges crumbling a little she seems strong and able to handle things. Most things .. she needs a bath though. I was going to recommend it. In fact I probably did .. one of those speaking before wiser judgement caught up with my tongue.

We talked a little about Tarra. She was all wound up and uptight about her Sister. Asked me to do what I could. Now I am not sure what I can do but .. I gave her my word. I care about Tarra .. been through a lot with her I just had not really thought she would be needing anything from me that she could not get much better from those around her right now. But Silken got me to thinking and I said I would check in on her.

She started to panic a little when I was going to leave. I had to grab her face and get her to look at me before she focused enough that she listened to me tell her I would be back. I could not stay to watch her enter the wagon again. It was too hard. I have not even stayed in my own lately. Can not handle the walls .. the flap ... even though they are only made of leather. I do not think Silken can take it much longer. I hope her men get themselves together soon.

I am not up to my full potential yet .. but at least I can do a few things that seem to help people out.

The Ridge Revisited

"So .. Fonce ..."

I was brought up short mid charge. Black eyes swung around as I paused.

"If you were going to .. say ... take the ridge .. how would you go about it?"

I went to speak but I found my jaw hanging several horts below where it was supposed to be set. I ended up just sitting there looking rather stupid.

Everything I wanted to say flashed through my brain in half sentences like .. what about ... did we not just ... are you serious ... is this a trick question ..and at the same time multitasking the distinct feeling I had lost my entire mind and nothing was exactly real any more.

"Well..."

Well is one of those filler words like .. uh and um and therefore and so on and so forth and ect. Those words we use to try to fill in the silence while we scramble to rearrange our thought process into some kind of order.

Then my temper caught up with the rest of me.

"What the hell do you want to know now for? What happened to five ehn ago when I was all there and giving you what you asked for? You want me to be a grunt and do what I am told without questioning you then let me go charge the damn ridge and we will just see how far that gets both of us."

"Fonce I really need you on this one."

I went to speak and got my mouth open and my jaw hung up again.

Deep breath. Attempt to rub my scars off.

"All right then .. what exactly do you need from me."

"I need you to give me the intelligence report for that ridge. I have to take that ridge .. we are going to take that ridge ... but if there is another way to take that ridge I would like to hear about it."

I figured that was as close to an apology I was going to get and .. that was all right with me honestly. I was not so prideful that I needed more than that. Been there too many times myself not to know how hard it is to admit you need anything from another man.

"You are going to lose men taking that ridge .. but ... if you take this into consideration you can cut your losses by at least half. Half is a lot to lose but when the half you save might include me .. I personally recommend it should be considered."

Welcome to my World

won't you come on in ?

..I'll be waiting there
with my arms unfurled
waiting .. just for

you

Welcome to MY world

"Fonce"

Her breath was cool against my ear .. seeming familiar but I could not place it.

"Fonce .. I miss you."

"Miss me? I am right here." Grumbling I rolled around in the furs trying to drag myself from the vestiges of sleep that seemed to cling to me with fevered fingers.

"Fonce .. I miss you.

I sat up .. black gaze peeling back the shadows that surrounded me .. searching. Fighting my way out of the tangle of furs. The failing coals barely flickered in the fire pit. The stars were bright above me. The herd slept not far off .. their heavy breathing soothing.. things seemed in order.

Cue my typical response to such things .. "What then do you miss about me?"

"I miss watching you .. the way you move ... the sight of you takes my breath away."

I frowned .. sounded like a load of boskshit to me. Women say the strangest things. Something flickered through my memory .. an irritation. But I was not sure if this was irritation for her in particular or women in general.

"I miss your touch. I miss the way you touch me."

"Come closer .. I will refresh your memory." Dry.

Her soft laughter gave away the fact she knew me better than to come any closer.

Figures.

I drew my frame into a cross legged posture and leaned to stir the coals .. shoving some dry chips in to feed them ... jerking a heavy fur up around my shoulders to ward off the night's chill. If you are going to get disturbed and forced to entertain a memory in the middle of the night .. no reason not to be comfortable while you do so.

"What in the hell do you want from me?" I let some of my temper peek through. I was tired.

"I am trapped. In the words. Help me please."

There were sudden flashes .. pictures ... my hands exploring the full curve of feminine hip .. swell of heavy breasts.

My fingers tangled in written sentences like chains .. holding ... trapping.

I jerked my hands back but .. there was nothing there. I swore. Consigned my dreams to the soil and maggots and rolled up my bed throwing pack and saddle on a startled Kai who was about as pleased as I was to be awake and moving again.

I shivered in my thick quilted jacket. They were back were they? But this was MY world. I was in control again. I was ready .. I had a surprise for them.

Right.

Just as soon as I shook off the bone chilling fear that the feel of those chains had given me.

Fucking dreams.

New Position of Frustration

There is a certain feeling a man gets. He gets it right before a battle. When a series of choices and events beyond his control have led him to that moment. When the big words and the fine speeches .. the fame glory and honor seem to pale in the very real light of steel. When you no longer rely on your numbers or you strengths because though these things help .. and may decide whether one side wins or another loses ... you know at that moment that you may not be alive on the other end and numbers and strength will not prevent your own death. You may die bravely after gutting a few of your enemy or you may die because your kaiila steps in a sleen hole and you run yourself through on your own blade.

It happens.

It is that moment that you feel the emptiness in your gut. That sucking feeling as you are emptied of all but the reality that you are there and there is no turning back. By the look in your enemies eyes they know it too. There is going to be blood. A lot of blood. Some of it yours. That breath ... before the battle cry is sounded. Before the adrenaline kicks in and the will to survive. That still small moment when you know for a fact that things have conspired out of your control and the outcome is no longer in your hands. You just do .. you do what you are trained to do ... you do what you know works .. and at the end if you are lucky you look around and count the living because the dead just do not care any more.

I had a feeling .. similar to that. Brought up face to face with one statement. "I am Ubar."

As redundant as the statement may seem .. it was not for redundancy's sake that it was given to me. It was given instead of an explanation. It was given because the Ubar does not need to explain a damn thing. Even when you really wish he could .. or would.

Now .. in retrospect I do not know if I had spoken unwittingly in some kind of authority. I had not meant to. I have authority as a man .. as a Tuchuk Warrior .. as a Commander ... but I have no desire to tell the Ubar how to do things any more than I wish to be the Ubar myself. I do not. Plain and simple. I have spoken the same way with other Ubar .. as a man expresses himself to a leader. But it is clear that a leader does not have to speak to his men .. it is not written anywhere that an Ubar must have that conversation.

I am reminded of such things.

And though I may say .. "Ubar .. that is a dangerous ridge to charge for this and that reason should we not consider the loss we will sustain compared to what if anything we might gain?" It is still mine to take up my lance and charge the fucking hill when given the unarguable statement in return ...

"I am Ubar."

What Can I Do Now?

I asked questions.

I asked questions I have asked before.

I asked questions I have never asked before.

I asked questions I did not even want the answers to.

Always finding a new motivation when there came a sticky point that the man felt he had a right to refrain from answering. As if his answers were his property .. to give or keep as he saw fit. I quickly taught him differently. His answers were mine .. to demand and expect whenever I asked. Not before .. or until ... always when I asked.

It was not an easy thing. To follow a thread. One thread through a maze of a million .. without knowing the color of the thread you are looking for. It was exhausting.

Did this have something to do with what had happened to Tarra? I did not even know what happened to Tarra. I knew from the whispered voices at the Fires that something serious had indeed happened and that she was not doing well. But there had been no official word. No one spoke of it to me.. no one spoke of it out loud. They would tell me when they wanted me to know.

Would be Convenient if this did have to do with Tarra if someone filled me in .. but that would be ... Convenient. Convenient just did not seem to be one of those shadows that followed me around. More is the pity. I would have liked to make Convenient my friend. We could hang out and get drunk together swapping stories. The only time Convenient seemed to stop by for a chat it was his cousin Too-Convenient. Which usually did not bode well for my comfort level.

So here I was with not much of a man left and a whole lot of answers I had no idea how to piece together to make any kind of useful sense of. Seemed unfair I was left with all the hard parts. And by now the poor fellow was cause-and-effect trained enough to need to give me answers .. he asked me ..

"What can I do now?"

And I replied .. "There is left only .. to bleed."

Improved View

Those nasty clammy fingers were still doing laps up and down my spine and the hot and cold whispers were still buzzing around my ear making visuals in my head I did not understand and could not fully materialize into a memory .. when I got to the Main fires. Cana was there .. her calm motherly way was a welcomed thing. But that jit monkey was still riding me hard.

She caught me staring at my boots. Said something to the effect of them being unsung heroes for carrying the bulk of our burdens. I told her hopefully they took us out of trouble faster than they took us into it. She asked me what was weighing so heavy on my shoulders and instead of answering her I asked a question of my own. I asked her if Ba'atar was around. She said he was gone for a few days taking care of some issues near the back wagons. I then finally answered her question .. I told her I had been to see Silken.

She asked me .. how Silken was.

I replied and the venom and bile filled my tone as I spat out the words .. "she should not be kept like that .. no Tuchuk should be ... like a dweller growing pink and soft without wind and rain and the burning Central Fire on their skin." There was a nasty curl to my lip .. I let it go with some difficulty shrugging my shoulders as if to relieve it from me.

She winced .. and I instantly felt bad for the poison I let creep into my voice. I apologized to her .. I had not meant to let it out .... I told her I would speak of this to Ba'atar as I should.

I needed to pull myself together .. I had no idea why this was effecting me so violently.

She shifted the conversation to the one thing that was pretty much guaranteed to work. Also. She thanked me for spending my time with him and I told her I hoped she let me do so again. It was me .. that should be thanking her. For seeing far more than most .. what I really needed. And caring enough to throw it in my way so even if I was not always ready to admit it .. I at least tripped over it.

People began to gather around us .. drawn in by the light and warmth of the fires. It was good to see them. Good to meet new ones .. good to see those I felt comfortable with that I had not seen in some time.

I was served tonight by Jai's personal slave .. though I did not catch her name she surprised me. Now I am aware there are always slaves around .. here and there doing what slaves do .. but it is rare lately for them to spend any more energy than necessary on me. So rare that it took me off guard when she served me my blackwine. She took initiative. Impressive. Definitely improved my mood .. at least the visual I carried away from the fires was much better than the one I arrived with.