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How many days was it now since they had returned? Shaheen didn't even know. They all just blurred into one for the war chieftain, who had found herself a place to sit, to wrap her large wings about herself with her knee's drawn up to her chest and her face buried in her hands. What would have been a lovely location in the forest, surrounded by beautifully tall and elegant trees, ones that reminded her of a home that was apparently not completely lost, was marred by the voices that slithered through her mind, hissing at her, goading her. She had fallen so far in such a short amount of time. She had once felt that she was somebody special, somebody to be admired and respected.

She felt that way no more.

Perhaps she had just flown too close to the sun, and this would have happened even if the islands had not been destroyed, even if insanity had not taken restriction of her life. Scorched and sent tumbling down from up high, an out of control careen that she could not seem to bring under control no matter how hard she tried. She had lost the respect of so many, and now she had even lost respect in herself.

And so she sat, and would continue to remain, warmed only by the tears that slipped free from closed eyelids and trailed down each sun darkened cheek. She had sought out not a single friend since the return, could not bring herself to speak with anybody of the torture that she endured. If only she had just given in to that phoenix all those months ago, she might now be like the others, put to rest, free, and at peace.

Shaheen was not fully aware of anybody else's presence at first. So wrapped up in her own inner self loathing, so lost in a sea of whispering voices that it took her completely unawares, and she mentally chastised herself for allowing anybody to get so near before she knew they were even there. The voice that reached her ears, cutting through the haze she had allowed herself to fall into, made her cringe, both mentally and physically. Of course, it would be him who would find her like this, broken and crying, in a position she had never found herself in before. Her wings automatically shifted, lifting, spreading, curving around to block her from view as she slowly lifted her face from her hands, and hastily wiped away the wet trails from her cheeks, rubbing at her eyes, her other hand falling to the ground, fingers instantly curling around a rock, thumb stroking over it's surface as she let her wings fall away, revealing the chieftain was trying desperately to keep her face carefully blank.

What she did not realize, as she was in no way familiar with what happened when one cried, is that her eyes were puffy and red, bloodshot, and her cheeks were flushed red.

"Nothing. Sitting. Enjoying the quiet." There was never any quiet for Shaheen, never any peace. But lying to him was easier then admitting the truth, even if it was clear on her face.

She continued to stare at him, daring him to say something, anything. Already she could feel her annoyance with him rising, anger heating her skin. What right did he have to interrupt her, to question what she was doing?

What right did he have to command her?

Her body stiffened at his words, her body straightening slightly, her face tilting up as her eyes narrowed. Her wings twitched slightly, spreading slowly before folding in neatly behind her. Her face remained blank, but the anger was clear in her eyes. He did not get to talk to her like this. He had no right, it was not his place, and what control she had allowed him to have over her in the past no longer applied.

But he was right. She did not belong on the ground. She very stiffly pushed herself to her feet, rock held in a white knuckled grip at her side.

"I'm not grieving for them." She spat out. Indeed, she hadn't even cared when she'd sent her parents on there way. To her it had been a relief to see them gone, to know that she would never have to see them again. She took too dangerous steps towards him, her stance clearly aggressive. She was not grieving for them.

She was grieving for herself.

Weeping? He thought that she was weeping? Okay maybe she was a little bit, but that wasn't exactly the point. She had never cried about anything, never, not once in her entire, incredibly long life. She had just never cared enough about anything or anyone to feel that tears were worth her time.

Except for herself. She cared about herself a lot.

She continued to glare up at him defiantly, her eyes rimmed in red, the skin around them slightly puffy, though not bloodshot because the whites of her eyes had returned to a dark, stony grey.

"I've stopped." She hissed, taking another step forward to get all up in his personal space when suddenly her rock wielding arm was in his tight and painful grasp, claws digging sharply into her skin. Her breath caught in her throat, her eyes flickering towards his hand then back up to his face, and she allowed her expression to soften, as her grip on the rock itself loosened, letting it fall to the ground with a dull thud against the cold, damp earth. Why was he doing this. Why---

"Why do you care?" Emphasis on the 'care'. Did he care about her? Did she care about him? Would she react the same way if the roles had been reversed and it had been her finding him hunched over on the ground? The answer was an obvious 'yes'. But did that mean anything.....

Her head hurt, and not just from crying, but from overthinking, and from spending too much time trying to make sense of the voices in her head. She closed her eyes for a moment, seemingly relaxed, like she had managed to calm herself down.

Then a knee was very suddenly and very rapidly raising up to meet Shik in the stomach.

HP: 37
Damage: 5

That took her aback a bit, because she wasn't sure what the end result was that he was referring to. The fighting or the...other thing that she chose not to speak of but always started with the kissing. He was backing off so she did the same, frowning at him from where she stood, but keeping herself poised and ready, knowing that fight was imminent, accepting it as it came as naturally as breathing between the two of them.

She shook her head a little, a futile attempt to clear her head. She had asked him why, and his answer was vague at best. Maybe a more direct question was needed. "Do you care?" She couldn't ever tell, it was so hot and cold between them. What were they to each other? Friends? Enemies? Something in between? Certainly in the past she would have just considered him her rival, somebody to compete against and banter with and insult, and yes, occasionally it would break out into a fight. Obviously things had changed somewhere along the way. It was always fighting now. Fighting or..the other thing. No middle ground.

Except for when he had cured her, however temporary that had been. She had been normal for a time. Middle ground had been easy to tread on for a short while.

And there he went again. Blaming her breakdown on those who had died and not on the obvious. "The dead have not broken me. They are dead. They hold no power anymore." He was an idiot, but she was not about to help him. He could work it out for himself. She surged towards him with a powerful stroke of her wings, turning her body into a swinging kick aimed for his chest.

HP: 37
Damage: 3

What was he doing? Was he just trying to aggravate her more, to throw around the word 'insanity' like it was absolutely nothing? Of course, just the mention of it seemed to make the whispers intensify gleefully, and she shook her head, not at him but at them as though doing so would be enough to knock them out for good. Of course, he wouldn't know that she wasn't shaking her head at him.

And if he was trying to get a rise out of her, it was damn well working. Rubbing her face into the fact that she was no longer strong, that she was breaking and no longer felt a need to scramble for repair. Her heart felt heavy, her gut hallow, her life tainted with grey. But the anger was always there, quick to rise, and to fill the gaping hole inside of her. She let it show in her eyes, her fury with him, this stupid man who couldn't have just left her alone, or kept his infuriating mouth shut. She stepped closer to him, weapon gone for the moment, chin tilted back slightly as she gazed straight into his eyes with her own insanity afflicted ones, then reached up two hands to grab at his arms, her nails which were not nearly impressive as his own digging into his skin as her grip tightened.

"It's just as you said." Her voice was cold, steely, a shroud for the many emotions that threatened to overtake her again as she forced out the words.

"I am not what I once was. I am no longer worthy of my title. I have no place here. No reason to be any longer. Nobody will care once I'm gone and consumed. I'm just accepting the inevitable, but that doesn't mean I'm going to do it quietly or without regret. I'm allowed to feel sorry for myself, Shikoba." The last words were growled, and she let her hands fall away. She knew she put herself in a vulnerable position, that he could really hurt her in this moment, and she just didn't care. She'd welcome the pain, embrace it as she always had, because it was all that was left to her that she could still appreciate and understand.

HP: 37
Damage: 1

His words were like salt on open wounds, the truth behind them stinging painfully, seeming to sear right through her. Somewhere inside of her she knew this is what she needed, that he was trying to help her, in his own way. But above that, a seething mass of indignation. She hadn't asked him for his help. This was none of his concern. She bared gritted teeth at him, tempted to lunge, to summon her dagger, to go for his throat even now while she stood, leaving herself wide open.

A hiss of pain escaped through those teeth as claws raked down her arms. Tears welled up in her eyes again, this time unbidden and uncontrolled. She could feel the raw, burning heat left behind from the vicious attack on her flesh, a split second before a foot was burying itself in her gut, doubling her over, sending her stumbling back with her feet scrabbling for purchase against the damp forest floor.

She forced herself to unfold her body, to stand up straight, amber eyes glaring into his, the malevolence behind them practically enough to bore holes through his skull.

"Do that again." Maybe, just maybe he was actually right. Maybe at some point she would break, and when she mended again be stronger then before.

HP: 30
Damage: 0. We saw this coming a mile away.

She'd asked for it, and well, Shikoba sure knew how to deliver. To her credit, she didn't try to back away, didn't try to dodge to the side. She allowed him to lunge at her, to let his claws sink into her repeatedly, embraced the pain that stabbed through her, the warmth and smell of any blood that managed to trickle forth before her Fear shield took care of the wounds.

Eventually she pushed against him, the pain becoming too much for her to endure anymore, and with a beat of her wings she put space between them again, her right hand coming up to slide beneath the cloth that he wore around his neck, pressing a bloody print against his chest, her breathingh a little uneven and ragged.

But it still wasn't enough. She still felt...wrong. Off. Different. Weak.

Unworthy.

"Is that all you've got?" An angry mutter, as though he had been the one to stop, and not her that had moved away.

HP: 23
Damage: nawp