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 Posted: Sun Mar 05, 2017 1:39 pm
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Posted: Tue Apr 25, 2017 8:25 pm
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Posted: Sat Apr 29, 2017 12:32 am
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✦ Back Alleys and Growing Pains ✦
[ A Lesson Hard Learned ]
Sajahka had known he was baiting trouble the moment he had decided to seek Leukos out intentionally after their parting in the market. That sense had escalated through their encounter, leading to eventual climax — in several senses of the word — within Leukos’ temporary room in a rutty in in the derelict portion of town. To say the man had been angry at the time was an understatement, but at no point through the beginning of the encounter had Sajah felt anything but satisfied that he was getting more or less exactly what he’d come for, even if it wasn’t in precisely the fashion he might have imagined or hoped for at first.
Then, Leukos had surprised him.
It had, perhaps, been an unnecessary risk to omit mentioning to the man that he’d never actually accommodated anyone else’s body before, and what he had goaded out of Leukos was barely a hair short of brutal—rough in a way he had not fully been prepared for despite his highest aims. And, in the last moments of dizziness, when he had realized he was — despite all his efforts and wishes to the contrary — going to fall unconscious, he had contemplated the true depth of risk he’d taken.
Unconscious, he’d be helpless. He had trusted himself only just enough with Leukos to take as many risks as he already had, but it had been an unplanned for tip in the leverage at the last instant. Sajah had been potently aware, in the instant before his mind lost touch with awareness, that Leukos could have killed him.
And perhaps he had angered him enough that it wouldn’t have been implausible.
Instead, Sajah woke stiff, aching, disoriented. A moment ago he had been—
He flushed hot, and grit his teeth, shaking his head and forcing his eyes fully open to assess his surroundings. Floor. Hardwood. A hall. He glanced down it. Empty, though there were doorways. He was still in the inn, but no longer in Leukos room. He pushed stiffly upward from where he lay tossed, onto an elbow and then his hands.
Leukos had kept his clothes. And his—
For half an instant, Sajah’s pulse was wild in his throat as he glanced to the door before him. The man had his knives. Those had value. He had gotten those—he pushed upward, nearly falling once on legs ill-prepared to handle his weight, but this was more important. He raised a fist to bash at the door, he had to be in there still, he couldn’t have been out for that long.
Instead, his foot crinkled on something.
He glanced down, fist raised. A sheet of paper, slipped from under the door out to him. He narrowed his eyes, a curious prickle edging under his skin. After a moment’s debate, he removed his foot and stooped, lifting it up to eye the text scrawled there.
If you want your things back, please be so kind as to return what's mine. See me again sometime.
He stared.
For a moment, anger flashed, it wasn’t—
But of course it wasn’t ‘fair’, and in a sense, it was fair—if they were playing by the rules he’d set. He’d taken Leukos’ money because he could and bedded him for the same reason. Leukos had taken a risk in trusting a stranger into a space with his coin, and Sajah had taken a risk — far greater, arguably — in chasing him down after all he’d put the man through. And he was the one who had lost consciousness.
That didn’t make his new problems any less immediate.The moment to think, however, did drive home the fact that perhaps pounding on the man’s door and howling angrily in an otherwise quiet hall was not the best way to go about things under the circumstances. If he could get away with not being noticed at all, that would be fantastic.
It was night.
He had nothing to fend for himself with. Every part of him hurt. He breathed out, and made a survey of the hall before forcing himself to stand, quietly. It was at least a poor enough joint it was barely lit, and he felt his chances of escaping unnoticed could be quite high. True, these were ‘new’ pains, but he had made himself move under worse conditions.
He stole his way out. The night air was especially chill against flushed, bare and sweat-slicked skin. He rubbed his arms as they prickled with gooseflesh, scanning the empty night—and then the surrounding buildings. Some of these were residences, surely, and if he walked enough, someone was bound to have their laundry hung about. He wasn’t wrong.
The situation wasn’t ideal. By the time he found the clothesline, a light drizzle of rain had begun to fall. Misty and soft, only enough to make the air dank, and cooler. But at least he managed to pull something onto his body. He had paid as much attention as he could on his way into town seeking the man out and later, when Leukos had lead him off.
But he was tired. He hurt. It was the dead of night, dark, and the streets were muddy and murky with gray mist rain. His feet were still bare.
And he did not have his weapons.
He glanced to the sky, but any attempts to discern anything other than the general direction of the moon were for naught. He did his best making his way by memory and guesswork. He did not know how long he spent in the street, only that by the time he found the beach and set of huts where Nyko would be, the rain had nearly stopped, and perhaps it was his imagination, but the sky looked not quite so dark as it once had been.
Perhaps it was just the clouds allowing more moonlight onto the beach.
He did not feel like sleeping alone unarmed on the beach or in a shack with no other recourse. So, despite the fact that it would leave him having to face his friend — again — after a night of carnal activity, this time with slightly less gentle of a toll on his body. As his feet moved from street to soft sand and he closed in on where he knew he’d find Nyko, it occurred to him that perhaps he ought to have come up with something to say now, ahead of time.
How as he going to explain himself?
It was one thing that he had been gone all evening, and night, again. But another entirely that he did not have his own clothes, his boots, his belts, his weapons. He was wearing an oversized cotton shirt plastered wet to his body and trousers that had likely only stayed on because they were plastered to it, also too long and rolled up. He undoubtedly had hickies. And bruises. Scrapes.
Bite marks.
He was exhausted. And thus, much as Sajah knew he ought to have thought it through, needed to, had to have something to tell Nyko when he woke, by the time he collapsed onto the floor beside his friend’s cot, his mind refused any push to further contemplate his circumstances. He needed rest.
He would figure something out tomorrow.
And tomorrow, whenever it came, would be far too soon.
For now, at least, he fell to sleep instantly.
Word Count: 1,302 |
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Posted: Sat Apr 29, 2017 12:25 pm
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Posted: Fri May 05, 2017 2:36 pm
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Posted: Sun Sep 03, 2017 7:23 am
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Posted: Mon Dec 11, 2017 2:59 pm
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Posted: Tue Dec 12, 2017 11:52 am
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Posted: Wed Dec 13, 2017 10:05 am
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Posted: Sat Dec 16, 2017 11:13 am
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Posted: Sat Dec 16, 2017 11:14 am
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Posted: Mon Dec 18, 2017 3:39 pm
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Posted: Mon Dec 18, 2017 3:47 pm
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✦ Ubeli'ae's Embrace ✦
Sajahka did not know what to do with himself.
For the great bulk of his life, he had been a slave, long after it was outlawed in the land it was practiced, and as a slave, there was little sense of ‘purpose’ but to live—and to steal as many good moments as could be gotten from life despite the Masters. As a slave, Nyko was his world. He lost his tongue, and then his parents, and between the two, there was little but his friend to find connection with. He had been there through everything, helped him craft the language that kept him sane, brought music and hope to life, and though Sajah had been privately aware he loved his friend more than was ‘due’ for purely friendship, it had somehow never occurred to him to consider the danger of allowing his life and goals to be so wholly intertwined with someone else’s.
He had never considered that they would be apart.
He had considered that Nyko might not share his feelings, certainly—though he had thought for some time that that issue would simply never be tackled, his own impulses had broken sooner than intended in that front—but never that they would be separate entirely. He had aspired to leave slavery because it had been Nyko’s dream. He had followed him to Matori, planned with him, listened and conversed for hours on what they would do—what Nyko wanted to do, the places he wanted to go—and those were all things Sajahka had wanted, because Nyko had wanted them.
But somehow, freedom had come with more complication than Sajahka ever could have predicted, and what had seemed to start as concrete plans had somehow fallen astray. Admittedly, he had not been the most adamant driver of matters, but he had thought that they had time, and that when it came time, they would build Nyko’s plan’s together. He had never imagined himself as more than support and hadn’t thought he would need to be. Nyko did the talking and dreaming, and Sajahka stood in his shadow to execute whatever loose ends needed to be handled and see that nothing stood in their way.
But they were not dreaming twelve year olds anymore.
Somewhere along the line, something had shifted that Sajah still couldn’t place. Something had happened, and it probably was his fault. Nyko had better things to do with his time, and Sajahka was holding him back. The thought still brought an oppressive weight to his chest, threatening to compress out the breath in his lungs as he paused at the edge of the beach outside of town.
Nyko was gone.
His throat hurt. He did not want to walk back into society. His eyes stung and when he cast his gaze sharply skyward, the stars blurred before he shut his lashes entirely. He felt locked in a world within himself where everything that was supposed to matter was gone, and his distress and lack of preparation for the imbalance made it difficult to tell whose ‘fault’ if any it was. It wasn’t as though it mattered. The facts were the same.
Nyko was gone.
Sajahka turned from the city, regressing instead out onto the dark beach, moving until civilization and all the other lives that went with it were just a dim glimmer of night lanterns in the far distance. The soft rush of the rolling ocean was more immediate. He crouched, and removed his boots. Then his blades. When he walked to it, inward rolling surf licked his toes and he looked out over the open sea.
He never had learned how to swim.
It was warm enough that it was barely noticeable but for the wetness as he walked out—to his ankles, calves, knees, thighs, hips, stomach. He let his hands rest atop the water, watching the moonlight glint over the listless ripples in it.
I love you…
He was a fool. And no one knew who he was but his masters and the man who thought he was holding him back. If his only purpose was to assist Nyko, and Nyko did not want him, that made him useless. If he vanished now, while his friend sought sky travel overseas, no one would notice. Nyko might not even know, ever.
Perhaps he was airborne now.
Sajah could imagine it, his beautiful voice whooping to the night winds, his smile bright and eyes curious, going forward in life with a woman he clearly cared about. He would probably be happier. Sajahka ought to have been happy he was happy. Perhaps he was.
But he wasn’t happy. And no matter how he attempted to logic his perspective, it all felt empty. He had nothing. And no one.
And nothing mattered.
He was so small in the universe, it would really only take a second to be rid of the problem. He walked out a step further, feeling the sea rise at his chest, towards his shoulders—and he let his knees bend, feet removing purchase from the ocean floor for a moment as he sank beneath the surface and held there. The ocean was supposed to be their namesake. People said it gave the most peaceful of deaths to those swallowed, and as the water embraced him, dark and calm with night and a near-breezeless evening, he believed it.
Like going to sleep, without fear of having to wake to another day.
Sajah waited until he felt the first pull of his lungs, and the second. The third ‘hiccup’, compulsive instinct in his body demanding he draw air where there was none, came with the faintest sense of mental dizziness. He thought of the last time he had seen Nyko. And then the first time. His mind, as though in a swelling rush to remind him of everything that had ever transpired to make him who he was compiled fragments of memory in a messy mental torrent. He could hear him laughing.
And singing.
Four. His lungs seized again in his chest for air and he heard the crack of a whip. Property. That is what he had been, and he wasn’t now. Five. He had a life. It might be worthless to everything in the universe that ever traipsed under the sun, but by the goddess, it was his, and he would only ever be given one. At its worst, it would not last long. At its best—
He kicked, breaking the surface again messily and dragging in a coughing breath, pulling oxygen deep and fast into his lungs. When his own noises ceased and he stood there, soaked, with little more than head and shoulders above water as he pushed back towards shore, the rest of the night was quiet. Unperturbed by the inner turbulence of his thoughts.
Peaceful.
He did not know yet how to combat the feeling left in his chest in Nyko’s absence. But no matter how rough their parting, Nyko would not have wanted — would have be disappointed — to know that the circumstances had given rise to such a pathetic lack of drive. Sajahka of all people ought to have better appreciated that life was not always enjoyable, fair, fun, good at all. Life was not guaranteed to be anything, and his influence was limited.
But in certain ways, his influence was also ultimate.
He regressed towards the shore wet, soaked with the weight of the water and a hundred dozen other more ephemeral and unpinnable things. He missed Nyko. And he could not think of anything he wouldn’t give to have one more opportunity to apologize, to say—anything, or nothing at all. There was no guaranteeing that opportunity ever again. But there was way to guarantee that it would never occur.
As heavy as everything felt in that moment and bereft of purpose, it was still better than nothing. If his Masters did not deserve to silence him forever then, then he did not need to do it now. He had gone through too much for this to be reason enough to throw away all the moments he might have left which might, somehow, be better. And even if they were not, they would still be moments where the world existed with him in it and the world could deal with that.
He didn’t owe it to anyone to make himself less of a problem.
He did not need to remove himself from the equation simply because not all the pieces had fallen as he hoped. He could not speak with anyone else, and had nothing to build his foundation from so far as he saw it. But he was not helpless. He liked to even hope he’d be difficult to kill if someone set themself to the task, and that seemed to almost be reason enough to forego the action himself.
He might not like it, but he was alive, and as he collected his boots and blades, trekked further inland by a dozen feet, and collapsed on the sand, he did not know where his path would lead him yet. But he had the strength to carve it, and so he would, come what may. In the morning, he might have to grant further definition to ‘what may’ and discern his options, but for now, to resign himself to the task of walking his path regardless was enough.
Morning would come soon enough, as it always did.
Word Count: 1,637
Quote: Sajahka has always revolved his world more than even he realized around his closest friend, Nyko. After an incredibly heated argument in which, among other things, Sajahka confesses his long-held romantic interest in the man, things do not unfold as they might have, and Sajah is left as alone as he ever has been. As a mute, Sajahka's options for communication were incredibly limited by matter of course and Nyko was the only person for many years who bothered to learn the sign language the two of them put together as children and therefor was the only person Sajah had proper conversations with. He was also Sajah's friend and closest confidant, but always, Sajah had only ever seen himself as support, trailing in the shadow of Nyko's glow - which never bothered him before. Now, however, with Nyko gone, Sajahka is left abruptly adrift, and while he never considered himself insecure or dependent, the shock of losing something he never imagined is almost more than he's ready for. But, Sajah has suffered worse than heartache in life, and has always had a somewhat embittered perspective on life to begin with. This solo is meant to highlight the shock of losing one of the most fundamental pillars in Sajah's life and detail his coping, as well as his eventual resolution to press forward 'come what may.' Nyko was a shining star leading Sajah's path and defining most of his life. From here on out until (if) Nyko decides to return, Sajah will need to begin truly shaping his own life and making serious choices about what matters to him, absent everything he thought he wanted. |
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Posted: Sun Feb 11, 2018 6:38 pm
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✦ And Miles To Go Before I Sleep ✦
Sajahka woke in the sand.
For several, blissful moments that was all: a touch of disoriented, groggy confusion, the warmth of the morning sun on his skin, sand sticking to his various limbs, the skitter of a crab down the beach, the whisper of breeze through the palms, the quiet rush of incoming surf and ocean bird call. Unfortunate, ‘Where…?’ and, ‘How?’ were quickly answered by memory as he pulled to full consciousness.
And like an unanticipated swell knocking heavy into him, he wished for a moment with bitter distaste that he hadn’t woken at all. He turned, rolling one shoulder into the sand and plucking up a pinch of it between two fingers with a frown. Strange, how similar the sands of Matori and Oba could be, out of context. If he shut his eyes, he could almost convince himself he hadn’t moved a step from the Masters’ house.
But no, that wasn’t true.
Everything else was different.
Breathing out, he forced himself upright, and turned his attention first to the basics: relieve himself, wash, find food, drink, and direction for his life. He started with the easiest, and worked his way from there. Fortunately, after the prior night’s escapade, his mind seemed content to allow him at least some respite in numbness. If he didn’t really think about anything, he didn’t have to feel, and for the time being that was highly preferable to any alternative.
By the time he had breakfast in hand, the sun was fully over the horizon, and he people-watched as he ate. He had never been truly alone before. His disability was alienating, certainly, in that it cut him off from most, but always there had been more than just him. It occurred to him to chase Nyko down.
Even if his friend didn’t think he wanted him there, there was too much between them to toss aside so easily. He couldn’t really have meant everything he had said, or if he had, he was just mistaken. He would reconsider, given any chance to rethink it.
Except that there had been time, and that time had gotten them to where they were. Nyko certainly sounded as though he had meant every word, and even if he did reconsider, it was probably only Sajah’s place to wait until he did, if he did. So, as tempting as the consideration was, he buried it—for now. If Nyko wanted his space and his success on his own for a time, then surely Sajah could give him that.
I just saw you here by yourself and thought you might like some company…
Sajah frowned, pausing in his aimless walk outside a bar which, perhaps, could have been blamed for ‘everything’ depending on the mental route he took with it. So…we’re going to try this out…without talking?
YOU. YOU VILE, SMUG LITTLE―
I’m going to devour you.
Tell me…Sajahka…would you like to be the one holding this knife?
You stayed…
His feet took their own path as his thoughts wandered, Leukos’ voice dancing back and forth through his mind like thoughts of water on a hot day. Persistent. Unavailable. His boots paused outside the inn the man had once inhabited. It had been at least a week, he felt, since he had last seen the man, and he did not know the status of his whereabouts. They had mutually understood their time together was brief regardless of how — entertaining — at the time.
Now, everything felt somehow different.
He ought to have let the thought be, perhaps, but instead, his feet carried him in and up the steps. Leukos, he soon confirmed, was no longer a patron. He might well have been on his way to Oba by now, as that seemed to have been his intention last they’d spoken.
I loathe you.
He squinted at the dingy wood wall before him, and turned to exit the building again, passively reminding himself that things had been better than that in their last encounters. Leukos had no reason to want him around. Despite having shared each other’s beds a number of times, and having liked the man for the time they’d spent together, they were still relatively strangers—weren’t they? And Sajahka was only the mute thief who had robbed him, broken into his bedroom…
I think you are an intriguing person, and your company interests me, but do not expect more from this.
He breathed out in a scoff. He still didn’t need ‘more’ from Leukos. At least, not in the sense Leukos was concerned about, he thought. For all that had happened, for all that he wished at some moments that he didn’t, he still felt that his heart was in Belrea. The ache on it, though, might be easier if he had someone to share conversation with. Something to do with his hours.
He didn’t think he could live as a ghost to the world indefinitely. It wasn’t Nyko’s fault he didn’t understand, but he didn’t understand — all he had to do was open his mouth, and anyone’s attention was available to him. Sajah did not have that, and in his friend’s absence, he was robbed of that sole contact. Communication was hard, without a translator, but perhaps most importantly of all: he did not want to be alone.
Leukos owed him nothing. If anything, he still owed the man favors, and so as the prospect of pursuing gained serious credence in his mind, he lashed it to that fact: he couldn’t expect anything. But if he asked for almost nothing, perhaps he could stand to—listen? Acknowledge him? Say good morning.
The more he thought on it, the more Sajah concluded he was pitifully inclined to accept anything. Anything would be better than nothing and no one at all who knew his face or what any of the words in his fingers meant.
And besides, it wasn’t as though he had anything to lose.
Sajahka set himself to work. And work it took, though fortunately, his target was not especially subtle. After the better part of a day spent attempting to communicate with persons who might know — the innkeeper, guardsman on the street Leukos had danced at, shopkeepers in the area — predominantly through paper and poorly written chicken scratch, he discerned that most anyone who thought they knew anything at all were fairly sure he’d been about to make his way toward Edrao last he’d been seen. A fairly well-known ranch specializing in mount training had taken an interest.
It would be quite the walk—but far nearer than Oba. And, Sajah reasoned, at least he had somewhere to go. There was no moment but the present to get started.
Word Count: 1,173 |
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Posted: Mon Feb 12, 2018 1:46 pm
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