Hunting the Hunter Ch. 06

"They're red...it's not usually the preferred color for eyes."

"I like red." Her smile widened

"And I like green."

He slid his hand up to wrap back around her waist and hips. "Thanks, Red."

"You're welcome, Green."

He pressed the small of her back with his hand and she accepted the invitation and leaned forward to brush her lips against his, but left it at that and pulled away to lean back against the tree with a chuckle of her own.

"Hassour sang one of your songs, er, poems, for us after you left."

"Oh yes? Which one?"

"I don't know. He didn't translate it for us so I couldn't understand it."

"Well that was pointless of him."

"No....not pointless. I like the way it sounded...I just didn't know what it meant."

"Sounded?"

"You know, the...rhythm, or beat, or meter or whatever you call it....I don't know anything about poems or music."

"You seem to know plenty. All you really need to know is what you like. What did you like?"

"Well that's the thing, I don't know enough to know the word for it. The...pulse of it. I guess." He smiled helplessly.

"The pulse of it. I think that's lovely. 'This is the pulse of my song...' May I steal it?"

He laughed. "I don't know what you're stealing, but it's yours." He sobered again. "It sounded like waves...it just sort of...rolled on." He tried to hum a few lines, but it didn't sound right without the words. She closed her eyes and sighed. And then the words..the ones he could hear in his mind but couldn't speak, came rolling off her tongue. It sounded so, so, so much better in her voice.

She paused after only a handful of words and opened her eyes down into his. "Yes," he murmured, "that one."

"Who are you?" she began again after another brief pause, but this time spoke more slowly, almost haltingly, "Dark Queen, subtle prince.... eyes like nightshade— no earthly petal so rich in color, so bright with dew... glittering in the broken starlight. Flesh, not flesh, that shines like the glistening pearl, waiting deep beneath the rocking seas for daring mortal fingers, wanting to touch, but...fearful of the dangers which lurk in the darkness." she paused, her brow crinkling, "The cloth of your robe shifts, as mist over the distant sky, revealing and obscuring. A fabric woven by your own knowing fingers, a fabric which...makes and unmakes its own meaning, a new...sign for every eye. Like silk when you grasp it in your hands and twist it beneath the moon."

There was a moment of silence where he stared up at her, hardly daring to breath, and where she sat staring out into the night, her fingers unmoving, but still threaded through his hair. Her eyes turned back to his, and her parted red lips parted wider into a toothy grin. "I can't tell if I like how it sounds in common...I've never tried to translate it...I don't think it was very good." Her fingers began to move again, her nails dragging lightly against his scalp in a way that both relaxed and excited him.

"Half the point was the...pulse, as you put it. The way the words move together. The whole effect is lost when you translate it, and not all the words carry over in the same way."

"Is it about you?"

She started at that, looking genuinely surprised. "Me?" she laughed, "No, not at all. It's a rather common place sort of poem, one dedicated to the mysteries of Azura. They're a septim a dozen in the Ashlands. We all have one or two on hand." She leaned back and that soft smile returned and her eyes closed with a contented sigh. "She's a Daedra of secrets and mysteries, of twilight: painfully beautiful, always so close and yet unattainable. You think you have it all figured out, and then bam, she turns it all back on its head. It is one of the lessons we learn as children. That she is in her own way the very definition of understanding, of meaning. After all, how can we hope to fully understand anything, how can we hope to know what anything means, when everything comes to us in fragments, hints, and half-truths...and yet we never stop searching, hoping that one day all will suddenly be revealed."

"Fascinating. You're sure it's not about you?" He grinned up at her when she poked him hard in the shoulder.

"It is fascinating, isn't it? I find the Daedra endlessly interesting...at least in theory."

He smiled at that, thinking back to what Des and Hassour had said about her lectures on the subject. But he hadn't been referring to the Daedra.

Her expression shifted and her lips curved into a playful smile as she cracked an eye at him, "Why? What was your interpretation?"

He smiled back. "Clearly it reminded me of you." He shrugged, "I told you, I don't know anything about poems and the like."

"Should I take it as a compliment?"

"If you like."

She chuckled at that, closing her eyes, her face serene. He followed suit, letting the calm of the evening seep into him, letting the caressing fingers sooth him...he couldn't remember the last time he'd felt so peaceful, so...happy.

His eyes snapped open and he frowned.

Inanna must have felt him tense and knew something was wrong before she opened her eyes and saw his frown. "What's wrong?"

He sighed and sat up with his back to her, running a hand brusquely through his hair.

"Feric, what's wrong?" She repeated softly.

"Nothing. I...I don't know."

"Well what thought arrested you and made you sit up?"

"Thinking about my family."

"Ah."

"That I'm sitting here, feeling...happy, while they suffer."

"And you're not allowed to feel that way." She asserted for him. It wasn't a question or accusation. Just a statement of fact.

"Something like that." He felt her shift behind him, and tensed as her slender arms slid around his chest, and as her warm body pressed against his back. He waited for the inevitable lecture on why it was foolish to feel that way, but it never came.

Slowly he relaxed into the embrace...not completely, but enough for her to nuzzle the back of his neck. He could feel her there...not just her body...but her... the red essence of her. It felt slower...calmer. It was hard to describe that essence, but he knew it when he felt it. It was dark, and hot, and alive...but it didn't have its usual intensity. Usually it felt like blood pounding through your veins, in the heat of a battle, or in that charged moment just before one made that final leap toward their prey. Now, instead, it was a slow, hypnotic rhythm...the beating of a sleeping heart.

"Can I ask you something?" She asked softly, her voice low and slow.

"Hmm."

"How did you meet Pern?"

It was not a question he had been expecting. He was so surprised by it that he answered almost without hesitation. "We pretty much grew up together. She was from another pride, but one close to my own, so we'd known each other for a long time. Since we were very young."

She nuzzled him again, her hand slipping into the folds of his robe to caress the skin beneath. The sensation confused him. But he didn't pull away. "When did you know?"

"Know?"

"That she was the one. Or when did you decide you wanted to be her mate?"

"Ah...well, I'm not sure. I always admired her. I can't think of one moment which stood out...there were so many...she was so..." He trailed off as the tight familiar knot grew heavy in his stomach.

"What? What was she?"

A million images flooded his mind, images he'd been pushing away, hiding, holding back for fear he'd drown in them: a bright, gleaming smile, blue-grey eyes, so dark when she was angry, like storm clouds announcing the coming tempest. Laughing and fearless, taunting and sardonic, kind and sincere...she was so many things...she was gone. He rubbed his hand across his eyes as if to erase the images, but they remained etched onto the backs of his eyelids, each one a reopened wound.

He sighed deeply and clenched his jaw. "Incredible." He swallowed hard, but for some reason pushed on. "Powerful...beautiful..." he smiled sadly, "a smart ass...like Mirisa, but more lighthearted, happier....but then Mirisa was happier then too." He stopped there. That was as much as he could say before the sick feeling became too much to bear.

"Tell me about when Aina was born." He was glad for the shift in topic, so he did. And he kept talking, and she kept asking questions, and slowly...slowly...the words came out a little faster, a little easier...just as painful, but still they came. He had no idea how long they'd sat there like that, with him talking, and her arms wrapped around him, and her body pressed against his back, but when he began to run out of words, both of the moons were well into sky.

"Aren't you cold?" he asked, "Uncomfortable?"

"God, yes."

He chuckled and turned, wincing as his body protested. He extricated himself and pulled them both to their feet. He was a lot more tired than the hour, however late, warranted, so he made no protest or comment when she led them back to the city and then to her house. He was awake enough to note the layout of her house, and the few things that stuck out to him as interesting: An unusual shield hung over the fireplace, a low table and pillows in front of it, the large ornate desk in the corner by the stairs, the pantry...book shelves...bed.

They both stripped and he watched, still silent, as she crawled under the thick quilt and shuffled over, lifting it to indicate he follow. He did, and she wasted no time in tucking herself against his chest and wrapping her arms around his waist.

It was easy to forget how small she was sometimes. Fragile or delicate weren't words one used to describe her when seeing her in action, but, looking down at her delicate jaw framed with red curling tendrils of hair that fell to brush her slim neck and shoulders, and feeling her small frame in his arms, he felt like he could break her in half.

"G'nite." She mumbled with a soft sigh.

He smiled and curled around her, tightening his grip. "You're not going to try and seduce me?"

"T'red...'n can't anyway."

"Why's that?"

"Din't kill anyone..."

He chuckled. "Fair enough. Though I'm not sure that's a habit we should be encouraging." He let out his own sigh against the top of her head and closed his eyes. He was still troubled, troubled by his memories, about the future of his people, about the woman who lay breathing so slowly and evenly in his arms...and when sleep came his dreams were no less troubled.

But, for the briefest moment between reality and dreams, in that nowhere place you can never remember, everything suddenly made sense.

And then it was gone.

**

Heaven. Wherever those silly humans thought they were going when they died...this must be what it feels like...only heaven is real, heaven is now, and it could be found in moments just...like...this.

Inanna 'mmm'd happily and wriggled closer, sliding her leg higher up the thick, muscular thigh, and absently running her nails over the slowly rising and falling chest. Heaven was a warm body in an oversized bed.

No, scratch that.

Let's be more specific, shall we? Heaven was a large, and incredibly sexy body which smelled like lovely fresh, green things and was exuding a delicious aura of a hot afternoon sun...in an oversized bed. She reached out toward the warm sunshine sensation unconsciously, breathing in deeply as her mind was flooded with its heat...and then with a barrage of unlooked for images.

It was unexpected and she came to her senses with a soft gasp, her eyes flying open. The last image, beautiful, and innocuous enough, lingered in her vision, like a semi-opaque overlay of reality. Somewhere high, somewhere in the mountains...a meadow....so green and so bright...flowers everywhere...laughter...light and high and...dangerous..."Kynareth" she whispered breathlessly before inhaling deeply and closing her eyes to squeeze the images from them.

Now that she was fully awake she was able to place that laughter. It sounded like Sprigans. She hated Sprigans, they were to be avoided at all cost...unless you felt like dodging spells and various wild animals as you run your sorry ass back to civilization. They were the servants of Kynareth, the imperial goddess who represented the natural world. So it made a kind of sense that something in Feric might evoke their image. She'd heard Feric mention Kyn once or twice, after all, so there was clearly a connection. They were likely her followers....but maybe it was a deeper connection than she had initially thought.

She must have been touching his will with her own without realizing it. That thought was the part that didn't make sense and which had her on edge. Normally she'd have to consciously channel it, at least a little, even when the other person was an active and willing participant. And with an unwilling person, it took a good deal of focused concentration. This was almost natural...instinctive. Like a muscle response. She'd been drawn to it, just like she'd been drawn to the other side of the bed...to get closer to the warm body occupying it.

Weird.

She drew away and sat up, running a hand through her tangles of hair, and feeling around the sheets for the thin strip of leather she'd used to tie it with.

She had just climbed over the foot of the bed and was tying her hair back when an odd sound caught her attention and made her freeze, then made her slip to the nearest dresser and feel around in the darkness for something sharp or pointy. Another slight creak...the third stair, it always creaked. She'd been waiting for that sound. She knew it so well because she'd tested every floorboard in the place the day she moved in. Better safe then dead in your sleep. Words to live by if ever there were any.

"Ina?"

She stifled a gasp at the sound of her name whispered so close to her ear, and turned her cheek toward the sound.

"How many?" she whispered back, her voice barely louder than a soft breath. A hand came up next to her shoulder with one finger held up. She nodded and held her own hand up, signaling that he stay back. It was only one, but it might be better to have hidden back up if it became necessary...element of surprise and all that. She palmed a dagger and moved silently to the already cracked bedroom door. Feric slipped past her, to the other side, where he would be better hidden in the darkness.

A pale hand appeared in the gap to push it open and Ina snapped out to grab it and wrenched the intruder forward. They let out a startled cry and stumbled forward, only to find themselves wrenched back into a less than gentle choke-hold. It was a man...but smallish. Taller than her, but not much stronger, and he stilled pretty quickly when he felt the knife at his throat.

"Can I help you?" She whispered darkly in his ear.

"I..In...Inanna?"

"Present." She growled.

"I...ah...um...I'm...Armand sent me..." The knife point left his throat, but the forearm remained. The man relaxed and allowed himself to cough before continuing.

"He...he had me tracking the messenger from Wariel." The arm released him then as well and he turned to face her. He was about to continue when he realized what he was looking at. She ignored his open mouthed gape and turned to where she knew Feric was hiding. The room was windowless, and the only light came from what little was filtering in from the hall windows.

The poor stunned man literally jumped when Feric melted silently out of the shadows and sauntered in all his naked glory past the significantly smaller man in order to fish his robes out from under the bed.

"So?"

His eyes, which had been nervously following the big naked Nord looking fellow, snapped back to her...though they started straying right off the bat. She sighed and snapped her fingers in front of her breasts.

"Eyes to the front soldier." He looked up, but only gave her a wonky grin and a shrug. Fine yes, can't blame you, you're only a man, etc. Moving on. "What news?" She prompted, her tone a little sharp since even though he had information she wanted...she didn't like having strange men sneaking into her bedroom at ungodly hours of the morning. Especially after the last one...creepy fetcher.

His eyes darted briefly to Feric. He shrugged again, wisely deciding that if talking in the present company was going to be a problem she never would have suggested it. That's why she liked 'the guild'...they could usually figure these things out on their own without much hand holding, you know, one plus one, and such. Fighters? Eh, not so much.

Feric cleared his throat and tossed something at her. She realized it was one of her long sleeping shirts as she caught it and grinned at him before pulling it over her head, much to the thief's obvious disappointment. It still didn't leave much to the imagination, but her more interesting bits were covered.

"Well, it didn't take long. A group came back once you were done with them...by the way, that was impressive work. You must be a pretty powerful illusionist to be able to control an animal of that size..."

"Caught the show did you?" She interrupted dryly.

He smirked "Just snippets, but what I saw was pretty entertaining." She only grunted impatiently. "Anyway whatever they found inside had them pretty stirred up and they sent a messenger to the capital almost immediately. Once there I followed him to a jewelers in the market district."

"Red Diamond?"

"Just the one."

"And?"

"Well, whoever picked up the message was real subtle about it. I can give you a description of everyone who entered the place through the front door, but no one jumped out as interesting. I had a friend watch the sewers since the cloak and dagger types—"

" — your type—"

"—tend to prefer coming and going by way of the cellar door. I thought it was Our type."

"I suppose that's accurate on occasion."

"Well, my partner did spot two cloaked figures in the vicinity of the Red Diamond down in the under works. One was wearing red robes, which looked sort of ceremonial...at least that's what she thought, but she lost them pretty quick, and she didn't see them actually go into red diamond itself. She did see another person, your more standard 'don't look at me I'm just a guy in a nondescript cloak' type, who she said actually did come out of the shop, then left the under works in the Elven garden district."

"Hm...pretty easy to get lost there."

"Sadly, yes. Which means that is as much as we can offer at the present. Do you want me to send back any messages to the capitol?"

She frowned, glancing at Feric. "Do we?"

He took a deep breath and rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "I can't think of anything more to add at this point. Has there been any word circulating about someone hiring freelance fighters or trackers? As hunters perhaps?"

"Freelancers, always...hunters? Not that I know of, but we'll keep an ear open. My partner, Dar'jirra...you know her? She's staying with a friend in the same district and will keep an eye out there, so maybe she'll over hear something in one of the Inns"

Feric frowned. "Dar'jirra? That's...Khajiit, right?"

"Yeah."

Ina watched fascinated as half a dozen different expressions fitted over his features in a little over a second. But he only nodded, and let his features settle into something ambiguously undetermined. The thief hadn't seemed to notice any of this and continued on.

"She'll make for a decent contact there if you need a solid thief." He grinned mawkishly, "Don't worry, she a lot sneakier than I am. Was it the stair, by the way?"

"No, something earlier than that...the stair was confirmation."

He shook his head. "Dammit. Can't sneak a sneak I guess. I'll get out of your hair then. Sorry if I, ah...interrupted...I was told you live alone."

"Normally. Why, hoping for a peek?"

"I got one didn't I? Course I almost lost a few pint of blood for the honor...so it's not something I'm going to try again...I assure you. Pebble at your window next time, my lady?" he grinned with a wink.