Watching, Waiting (open)

[daisy]

The silvery sheen of the lake glittered in the morning sun, just as the first veins of light bled out onto the underbellies of clouds, bruising them with a warm golden hue. Few had come to morning prayer, for it was uncommon to be out alone at such hours, and children never liked to get up early. It was a lonely place, for the most part. Although Dragon Tooth Lake was the portal of the goddess, few people stayed there for long. They paid their respects, and then continued on in their lives. But a few found refuge in this place, using the peace of mind to master things almost imposible otherwise.

Moving slowly, almost in a painstaking manner, a young woman brandished a sword that curved up softly. She morphed her body into flexible positions, holding her weapon steady. Then, as if caught by some invisible flame, she lashed out at enemies that were in her imagination. Then, she would retain her tortise like movements, ever so slowly using her taut, lithe muscles. Most would think this leisurley, but it was in fact an exercise. She maintained total control of her body and her mind, never faltering.

Of course, wouldn't this girl's family be looking for her? Perhaps. Her mother was a preistess to the goddess and had been training her daughter to become the same. But, this girl was more interested in the war that was raging instead of prayers. Of course, she did what her mother told her too, only to slip away at the earliest moments to practice the skills that would be needed.

The young woman, no more than seventeen, paused and placed her sword in a shealth, striding over to a small goatskin filled with water. The cool gush of it down her throat was a pleasure she enjoyed in the hot weather of the South. It soothed her in a zenlike way, yet excited her. She then sighed, seated herself on the ground, and watched as the sun began to rise, waiting for something to happen.

[khalora]

Alessio wheeled around on his horse, just before daybreak. He had ridden hard for the Dragon Tooth Lake, because he was afraid that after he and the pirates sailed for Isla de Meuna, then he would never be able to see the crystalline waters again. never be able to bask in the luxurious sun which was so different here than anywhere else, never be able to climb the rock face and just stare across the magnificent view. Splendid and untouched.

Khalora sighed, if nothing else he was fighting to keep this place safe. To make sure that war never touched this island. To keep Danarta safe. He dismounted and tied the horse up to a nearby tree. Bakana came lumbering down the path on all fours. The bear was slightly slower than a horse, so she had been a little behind.

Khalora patted her on the neck roughly before he walked down towards the lake side, to see the sun rise one more time over this beautiful place. He was almost surprised that there was another person here. It wasn't often that any southerners were here so early. He walked over to the small huddle in the distance, and as he got closer he noticed her for a woman, and definately a southerner. There was no mistaking that.

He walked over to her in the sand and immediately noticed her robes as a priestess. "Good morning. And what might a young believer be doing so far out here in the wilderness?" Bakana came up behind him and regared her with a cool curiosity...

[daisy]

In a single, fluid motion, the priestess to be lifted herself at the sound of another voice as it rumbled deep into her listeners. She was suddenly alert as she wipped herself around, trying to find the face of the owner of the lyrics that she had just heard. Her brown eyes, flecked with shocks of gold, were ablaze in not anger, nor fear, simply surprise. She shifted uneasily as she saw the man. Her optics narrowed slightly, for if he were to attack her, she would simply fight back.

But she did not make any motion to answer his question at first. Because...well, she didn't exactly know how to answer it. It was unlady like and not to mention strictly against her mother's word to be out practicing such a 'barbaric' thing such as swordfighting. She chewed softly on the side of her mouth, fumbling through her mind for an answer. Finally, she purred, "What kind of priestess would I be if I were not to be at such a spiritual place? The goddess could be gracing us with her presense as we speak."

The beautiful young woman offered a smile after her words were spoken. She tried to be cheery, happy, but it all turned to mush in the end. She was no girly girl, no entertainer of any sort, just plain old Artmesia who attracted the gaze of one too many men. She looked down at her sword, wich lay in it's sheath on the ground and let out a silent prayer that the man who stood before her had seen it. What would he think of her? She nibbled her lip once more before attempting in conversation, "I'm Artmesia, but I'm afraid that I don't exactally know who you are. Forgive me if I am being rude, for I don't really know when I am."

[khalora]

Khalora tilted his head at her response to his question, a lock of hair falling off his brow as he regarded her beauty with bright green eyes. "If I didn't know better than I'd say the goddess was already sitting in front of me."

He noticed the sword lying at her side and he in turn felt his own broadsword hanging from its large sheath at his side. Steel had no place at this lake. He wasn't even wearing his armour as he normally did. Just an elegant green and gold tunic trimmed with black with an equally dark cape.

He sat down next to her in the bright, clean sand. "Well good morning Artmesia. I am Alessio Khalora, King of the Southerners. And no, you're not being rude at all. Theres no cuss in asking somebody their name." He took off his broadsword and layed it in its sheath on the sand next to him, just beside Artmesia's. They were both of elegant make, and he wondered if hers had tasted as much blood as his had. He hoped not.

"I'm here to witness the sunrise over this lake just one last time. For I fear I may not be able to again for a terribly long time, if ever..."

[daisy]

Her dark pools of chocolate and honey flickered in surprise as he commented on her looks. Of course, it was a polite thing to do, but never-the-less, it bothered Artmesia to her core. Although quick to anger, she didn't show it. She would be damned if he were to call her out on her swordplay, rudeness, or perhaps even kill her. He was a man after all, and she a bit weak in most eyes. Instead of smartly rebuking him, she smiled softly, forced a slight blush to form upon her cheeks and allowed her eyes to slip down to the rock covered ground. The girl said, "I don't think comenting a priestess on her looks is such a good idea, it would be immodest of me to accept it."

Only after he spoke his name did her eyes flare up in alarm. The youth felt herself bite her tongue, her fists balled up beneath the light white fabric that the sleeves were constructed out of of her attire, the otherwise green ensamble practically quivered in fear, although she wouldn't allow herself to look like a fool. The proud youth lowered her head, and attempted at a bow, but stopped halfway when she realized that she did have a bit of power in society, and settled for a resectful nod instead.

"I'm here to witness the sunrise over this lake just one last time. For I fear I may not be able to again for a terribly long time, if ever..."

The words he spoke unsettled her, did the king fear he would perish in the war? She pursed her full lips and said to the king, "My lord, going to war with your countrymen is the most noble thing a man, or a king, could do. It is very brave of you, for some kings would rather sit on their throne and direct their armies from afar, much as an old man would do playing a game. Such an act would bring guidence and protection from the gods. And for them to overlook a vigilant act would be a shame on them. But, never the less, I will pray for you once you leave."

The youth spoke with wisdom beyond her years, but that is what happens when you are surrounded by old women all the time, primping and lecturing you about something or another. Although she knew nothing of real battle, Artmesia felt a tug of jealousy wrap around her, she would of gladly put down her robes for armor to fight. But, she felt as though it was her place to stay here. She said, "As always, our duty is to our country, and not to our hearts." Her words seemed unfitting for a moment, but all the pieces would fall together, as they always did.

[khalora]

Khalora noted that she was unsettled by his comment on her beauty. He had said it almost on instinct, and realised now that she had probably heard very similar comments throughout her entire life, and learnt how to respectfully rebuke them. Just because of her looks, she had put on a pedestal all her life, to be looked up at by others. And she had without a doubt had to learn how to handle such a position in life. Just as he had. "Forgive my comment. I meant no tension by it."

Bakana stalked silently around behind the two of them and sniffed at the air. She shook her head and jogged into the lake. Her huge mass sent water flying everywhere around her and she settled into a powerful rythym of kicking and swimming, her head and shoulders the only things visible above the dark waters. The sun would be rising very soon.

"I do not cringe from leading my armies to war. And I do not cringe from fighting beside soldiers which are born to the spear and the shield. It is my duty, and I will see it done." He sighed slightly before continuing, his golden eyes watching Bakana placidly. "The gods will see honour and duty before the day is done. And what must be will be."

It was more of an ending comment, even though the battle was far from started. He looked again down at the sword beside his own. It sat there, long and silent in the soft sand, born for a purpose that may never be fullfilled. Maybe.

"Although it seems to me that it is not the gods you think will win this war. Nor do I think you desire to believe that." He nodded towards Artmesia's sword. "Would I be wrong in assuming that you are an able swordswoman?"

[daisy]

"It is sort of a hobby of mine, swordfighting. I mean, I don't often get away from the temple, and when I can, I practice. It gives me a sense of reality, of what is going to happen. I know that if the war reaches our temple, then I will not be lying dead on the steps without taking a few with me. I'm fast, but my strength and skill won't compare to a seasoned warrior. I don't think the gods will fight this war for us, my King, which is also why I use this sword. My place, although not of my choosing, is with the rest of the priestesses, and I'm afraid I will never use it," Artmesia spoke her words without even thinking who she was speaking to. She felt more comfortable than she should, but didn't mind it. Feeling at ease was better than feeling anger or nothing.

Her shoulders sagged as she watched the sun rise. Sooner or later, she would have to return to the temple to help with morning prayer. Being a priestess was harder than it looked. One had to divert their attentions from family and love, to the gods. You had to walk with poise, be friendly, and offer advice, all of which were often hard for Artmesia to do. She was a rarity amongst her society, priestess' rarely had children, but her mother had been raped by an unknown man, and thus she had been brought into the world. The other women didn't trust her, they thought her outlandish. They said her heart wasn't in the right place. But this was all Artmesia had, if she were cast out of the covenant, then she would be a beggar, a commonwoman. But she didn't want to think of that now.

She lifted her blade from off the ground, it's light weight shocking to it's beholder. She said, "My mother's friends say that swordfighting is for men. But I feel closer to the goddess when I wield a blade. It is odd, I suppose. But perhaps I don't belong where I am now. But now only the gods can decide that."

[khalora]

Khalora smiled as she picked up her sword. "You have wisdom and an understanding about life which is far beyond your years Artmesia," he observed. "But there is no reason to fear. No enemy will ever breach this far into Danarta while I am defending it."

He picked up his own blade. The broadsword elegant in its sheath. Unlike Artmesia's, his sword was a rather heavy type of blade, but Khalora was able to swing it enough stength and speed as any other soldier, which was undoubtedly why he was still alive to sit here this morning. The sun glinted off the golden pommel of the sword and he looked across at Artmesia's.

"It sounds like you would prefer a more practical approach on life. It is hard for people to believe in a higher order of beings to do everything for them. Most will do it themselves. The realists among us will arm themselves with their own skill..." He stood up and drew his sword out of its scabbard slowly. Listening lovingly to the harmonious sound of the steel ringing against the sheath lip. It sang into the morning air and the golden blade shone in the new light eagerly. "...May I see your skills?"