`F`Lar of The War Tarn; Honorable Protector of the Tavern and all kajirae/kajiri,
BlackCaste......
* She walks in the moonlight, her footfall on weathered planks as soft and silent as a ghost's. The sea is quiet now , having spent all its anger in the three days before. In the moonlight she can see no white upon the water's surface only, Black glass waves and, an occasional sparkle of starlight. Quiet so quiet. Death must be like that , black and still and utterly silent, a smooth realm that ripples ever so softly as each soul passes into it. Free of turbulence. Free of pain.
Free of fear an its attendant deamon, whose silver eyes must even now be searching, wondering where she has gone..... Foot steps approach her even as her toes lose hold, the long fall into darkness beginning just as the others come running. A world away, they seem to her. A distant dream. She is aloft ,a creature of air, floating above the waves. Falling . Beneath her the water seems to gather in anticipation---- not glass now but velvet , cool and welcoming---and then the moment is past and she breaches the surface, the cold waves give way to her body and she is beneath them, struggling in icy depths, shocked out of her dream state of the past, by the frigid reality of the sea.
Panicking suddenly, choking on seawater, she fights to get back to the surface . There is no thought of suicide now , only the blind , unthinking terror of a suffocating animal. Water pours down her face as she finally lifts her mouth above the surface of the waves, gasping for air , and not until she has drawn in two or three deep breaths does the sense of panic release her .
Shaking , she coughs up some water she swallowed, and her frozen body treads water without thought , grateful for the respite. Above her a Master, strong and proud , wearing the darkest of Black , as is befitting his Caste, Looking down at the girl, Puzzled. Wondering. He extends a hand, drawing her shivering, delicate form, from the waters of icy coolness. Wrapping the girl in cloaks,he leads her to his furs , placing her gently upon them. She wanted to scream, but the sound was trapped within her. A nightmare, she begged herself. That's all it is , so wake up.
Wakeup!! Wake up......He handled her gently but forcefully, sitting her down on furs covering a rough stone slab. Lowering her slowly down onto it. Numb with shock,she felt him bind her limbs tightly, until it was impossible for her to move. Protests arose within her---promises, reasoning, desperate pleas----but her voice was some how lost to her. "Wake me up" she begged silently, "make it all a dream , stop this from happening....." She could only stare at him in horror as he shut his eyes, could only watch in utter silence as he worked to bind her to his purpose, in preparation for the journey . At last his eyes opened.
They glared wetly as he looked at her. She wondered if there were tears. " The sacrifice is not of your body," he explained. His voice was cold as Darkness. He raised a quiva into her field of vision , even as his slender hand stroked the hair gently out of her eyes.
