#Kivair

[wireslide]

Travel on an Interdimensional Ship

In which Kivair learns some lessons and almost accidentally kills Eli.

The bustle of the common area died down as the doors slid closed, and the ebon-skinned draenei sank carefully into a chair, rubbing at her forehead. A dark blue hand settled on her shoulder, and she lifted her head only slightly to accept the cup of tea from her aunt. "I do wish you'd see a medic, Kiva," the older woman sighed, settling herself on the low stool beside her niece's hooves, "they're becoming more frequent, and...well. Your eyes are starting to bulge a bit. I'm concerned at what that could mean." She reached out, tenderly brushing hair that glimmered like spun moonlight away from the heavy veil covering most of the darker exile's face.

Letting the steam from the tea wash over her closed eyelids, Kivair took a long moment before answering. It was also possible, given the clear amount of pain she suffered, that she was savoring the silence. When she opened her eyes, it was as though she'd uncovered two lamplights, bright enough to increase the light in the small family suite tenfold. She noted with a kind of wry amusement that her aunt looked away with a faint squint. "I'm fine, Iopa. I mean...I'm not, but the medics can't help me. This is the grace the Light gave me, powerful enough to drive me from Argus after my cousin and not put her in additional danger. There were always bound to be side effects to such a deal." She took a sip of the tea, then hefted it slightly in her aunt's direction. "Thank you, for this. How is Eli? She doesn't usually nap this late." Overbright eyes turned to one of the small doors off the suite.

Iopaani smiled, patting Kivair' s leg gently. "She woke from her nap early, and decided to 'help the talbuk remember what they are,' under her father's supervision. Konei promised he wouldn't let her try to mount any. How was training?"

The younger woman waved a hand. "Training is slow and boring and they've partnered me with the most ridiculous soft usuul of a priest. Scared of his own shadow, that one, much less the thought of actual Shadow. His healing prayers are powerful enough for an acolyte, I guess, but if he doesn't grow a spine sometime soon I may mistake him for a sea jelly and eat him." She took a gulp from her tea, frowning at it faintly.

"Most of us aren't as ready to raise arms as you are, Kivair," her aunt reminded her gently, "remember that you are late come to the ship, and the rest of us have already survived being driven off four worlds, not counting Argus." She brushed back her niece's hair again. "We cannot all be Vindicators."

The darker woman scowled and tossed back the rest of her tea, handing the mug back to Iopa. "He's a priest. A servant of the Light. He should be ready to raise a hand and decimate armies with holy fire. I don't expect you to understand, Aunt--you're just a livestock breeder's wife. You aren't Called by the Light like we are." By the small sound she made and the sudden flash of light in her palm, she wasn't expecting the slap her aunt laid across her cheek.

"Arrogant little girl, listen carefully." Iopa's full lips were pulled into a hard line. "We are all Called, and we all obey. An army marches poorly on its own hooves alone. No priest, not even Lord Velen himself, can call that much holy fire, or wants to." She grabbed one of Kivair's sweeping obsidian horns when the young woman started to look away. "The Light is gentle and compassionate more than it is blindly violent, and that is why we left. That is why your order makes up less than a tenth of our number, why there are three priests for every Vindicator, and why everyone else considers the lot of you a distasteful necessity. For the most part, daughter of my sister, we Exiled tend to believe that if you cannot let go of the violence within you, you should go back to Argus. We do not burn armies, Kivair. The Light humbled us, and every day you are told to abide by the same lesson." She released the horn with a flick of her wrist, wiping out the tea cup briskly as she walked away to put it in the cupboard.

Breath hissing between clenched teeth, Kivair forced the light around her fist to fade. "You sound like my mother," she managed huskily, flexing her fingers.

"One of us does," Iopa agreed mildly. "Go see to Eli, dear. She always makes you feel better." She busied herself tidying up the eating area as the Vindicator-in-training stomped out into the busy bustle of the Genedar's halls once more.

Kivair hardly noticed that most of the ship's inhabitants eased out of her way as she stormed through. Her cheek barely stung--Iopa hadn't struck her hard at all, only loudly--but her pride burned indignantly. She had given up everything to catch up to the Genedar, to be in her cousin's life. How dare her mother's twin treat her as though she had left nothing behind! A day didn't go by that she didn't miss her proper arms trainer, or her father's laboratory, or her grand set of rooms five times bigger than the family suite she shared with her cousin and her parents. She even missed the intricate patterns of her mother's court. What did Iopaani know? She was the twin of a Man'ari general, the former right hand of the Victor of Aldrachi, and she had given that up to marry a livestock breeder--not even a highly regarded one! Koneiithon had only had the remnants of his father's small stock and a bare twelve acres of land when Iopaani married him.

Kivair rounded a corner, almost running into someone in a priest's robes. She paid them no mind as they called after her, mind focused on fuming. At least when she had given up her life, it hadn't been for something as stupid as a man. It had been for family, for blood. And she remained willing to fight for her new life instead of constantly fleeing and later mourning those left behind. 'Better them than me,' felt like the attitude most Exiled held about those they left behind to be swallowed up by their pursuers.

She came to a stop at the fenced in area holding the livestock, then began slowly edging her way around towards the talbuk pen. There was enough of a crowd gathered that she had to push her way though, and once she saw her cousin, her heart stopped and the drums in her head got louder.

Elianaura, only living child of Koneiithon and Iopaani of the House Sabir, held one tiny, bright white hand under the jaw of the herd's Premiere, the most aggressive stallion on the ship, and spoke to him quietly as her father tied a blindfold around the talbuk's head. Once the cloth was in place, the Premiere snorted and pawed at the deck, throwing sparks, but little Eli only gently scolded him, and he stood stock still, trembling. Shooting her father a questioning look--Konei nodded--she began to slowly walk backwards, leading the blindfolded stallion forward in tiny steps.

Kivair clenched her fists again and suppressed the urge to scream. Her cousin's bones weren't done growing yet, and here her idiot father was putting her in danger, practicing Gunjika on an enclosed ship where a single miscommunication with the animal could cause a stampede! In a spaceship, a stampede would quickly turn into a meat grinder. She had to put a stop to this. She pushed her way further forward.

She saw the lead rope in her uncle's hand, saw the two ropers ready to offer extra restraint, but all her brain registered was her baby cousin inches away from several hundred pounds of unpredictable sharp hoof. She didn't notice the muted lash of light that cut into the blindfold, and perhaps just a little too far, slicing into the back of the talbuk's neck. She hadn't even felt her fingers move to cast the spell.

Time slowed to the spaces between terrified heartbeats. The talbuk screamed, reared, lashed out with his hooves as he lifted himself up above the tiny child, who fell backwards in surprise and desperately tried to scramble away. The hooves came down.

The bell-like sound they made when they hit the priest's shield was deafening, even from the edge of the corral. Kivair vaulted the fence and swept her cousin up in one arm, skidding away from the temporarily stunned animal all in one motion, as though she practiced rescuing children from irate livestock every ship cycle. She checked Eli frantically for injury as the ropers restrained the talbuk before he could start screaming again.

The child had the temerity to giggle as though she were being tickled. "Kiva! Oh, Kiva, did you see? I led him blindfolded and he followed! I'm going to be a Gunjika champion someday and win us all the best talbuk, just like Grandfather! Papa says the old tassle-tack is in the long term storage and when we find a new home he'll teach me how to use it!" She clapped her hands in delight and giggled again when Kivair hugged her tightly. "Did you see?"

Forcing most of the tremble out of her voice, the dark-skinned woman pressed a kiss into her cousin's jet black hair. "I saw, Eliana, that was very impressive. Maybe next time can wait until the talbuk has room to run away from you if it wants to?" She shot her uncle a look that could easily have killed him where he stood. Konei didn't even have the grace to look ashamed.

The tiny girl gave her cousin's suggestion a long moment of serious thought, then nodded. "I guess he can't have been comfortable at all, being all trapped and then blind. I didn't mean to upset him. I thought if we blindfolded him he might remember grass and sky and feel better."

"That's very thoughtful, little light, but he was born on the ship and talbuk don't have racial memories." Kivair stood, cradling her cousin in her arms.

Eli shrugged. "That we know of. But we don't know everything. Right, Kiva?"

Walking back through the crowd to settle her cousin on a window seat, the Vindicator-in-training sighed. "No, little light." She stared at the reflection of the priest behind them, barely noticing the stars streaking by. "I suppose we don't."