Incense at Dusk: .01.07.03. - stalking [ra'gon-nadja]

January 07, 2003

.01.07.03. - stalking [ra'gon-nadja]

[pine barrens]

(ra'gon)
His adventure in the scab was more or less uneventful...that being a gracious spin upon what he really thought of it. His stride was carrying him through the thicket of the bush on the outskirts of what he considered the kinfolk village.

(nakhti)
there was pleasure to be found, here, and that may be what brought him back - he cares not for the happenings that have been reported in the village, and perhaps the affliction of knowledge is what draws him, but rather, there is the pull of a walk, a stroll, an easy stretch of legs in something other than the close quarters of the cities

he is, after all, a child of the earth, and of nature, no matter how dark the parts he was born in

a trail chosen, at random, something that just leads away from the pinprick glare of the village lights

(ra'gon)
His nostrals flair with the captured scent they endeared. Eyes shifting about, narrowing upon where he knew she would be found. Obviously the little Pena was lurking about. Another scent as well enraptures him just as he sets to lurch upon his hunt of them. He blinks..."Baaast" He mumbles to himself

(jastima ves'tacha nadja)
Its a swirl of bells and her little laugh that heralds sound after scent. Its winter, yesbut she will not give up her skirts. . or her bells. She did wear a jacket today, though she like her flamboyant shawls better. More fun to dance with. Raven hair loose and shining, hazel eyes bright and devilish, feet moving in that graceful stride dancers acquired from years of practice, she walks near the village.

(nakhti)
the steps are slow, measured, and silent as whispered death, perhaps there is the slightest crunch of errant snow beneath the chosen hiking boots beneath the wrinkled, broken cuffs of the jeans enveloping slender body, the corded sweater hangs thick around his torso as sole barrier against the frigid air, hands flatten and slide into the frayed pockets to gather warmth from tanned flesh beneath

leaning, always learning, like a starved calf it's mother's milk there is always the relentless crave for more, and now it is the forest that captures this ravenous attention, considering what he feels, what he learns, and what it is even that he thinks in this stroll beneath the naked branches of the trees

(ra'gon)
Slow and deliberate his now piercing gaze swept. Both eyes ablaze while there are attempts to locate the birth of that scent. He grumbles "Bast..."

Slinging his head round towards the avenue of his pena's persuit "Nadja?"

(nadja)
"Ra'gon?"

Twinkling eyes alight on him as she rounds a bend and voice in the woods becomes flesh. A quirk of a smile, as she dances to a stop.

"I didn't know you were out here too. The vardo was empty."

(nakhti)
bells and a grumble, a whisper and a snarl, a delight and harrow on the senses, and with a blink hazel eyes lift from their study of the path before him to look ahead (Baaaast) towards the sound of footsteps weaving through the filtering trunks - it does nothing to pause his walk, merely following

(ra'gon)
"Ssssshhh Pena..." He covered his lips with a single finger that he pressed to them. Though the imagery lost on her as she was afar and in the dark, it none the less comforted him. Again his surveying gaze swept the forest.

A moment later he stalled...broke silence and let out a call.

"Come Pena...Come before the Child of Fertility finds you"

(nadja)
Well, lets just scare th girl. This is the one who doesn't want pups anytime soon, after all. Gemile still hasn't let that die. Her twinkling steps carrying her up to Ra'gon, she looks around for whoever it is he's referring to.

"Can I speak now Prala?"

Soft, sultry whisper. All her whispers sounded like that, in her trained voice.

(noah)
Heavy paws left wide prints in the snow, as predator, stalked through the forest of naked trees. The bright, blaze of a crimson-gold fur did little for camoflouge in the grey-winter world. But the wolf's great hulking form, like that of ancient dire wolves of old, was enough to scare off most predators and prey. Nostrils flared out, warmth breath cuffing out in thick mists. Cold blue eyes, with their hawklike perceptions, kept a constant vigil, upon the land before him.

(nakhti)
for ages past superstition has surrounded the cat blackened by shadows, stained with the darkness within which they lurked - souls stolen, breath claimed, children swept away in the night - and perhaps now, as body bends to twist and melt into midnight fur and whiskers, the snow itself seems to crackle and pull away from the heat of thick pawpads, melting from damnation's fire, cringing from the taint that seems to cling to non-reflective soul

the man that walked the path becomes the shadow that stalks it, wraith thin body opening itself to the scents that coy smokily on the air, the feline weaving through the trees as if it were a part of the cast darkness itself

(ra'gon)
"Of course Nadja...but with softness. We are not alone here in the wood" His eyes were all about and not once laying upon her

(nadka)
"Are we ever?"

The Barrens had hardly been a lonley place of late. All those gaje coming and going to their little religious gathering. Of course if they were even the least bit open to some song and dance, tales and tricks, she might like them more. But it was convert convert convert. So highly unlikely. Still, her own hazel eyes, not as good as his, peering about, ten falling on him, then looking about once more. Voice not rising above her sultry whisper.

(nakhti)
it's the darkness that stalks them, the deliberate snap of a misplaced twig, a chuffed breath on the wind (or is that another...), velvet ears swivel to capture the whispers in the night - just as his ancestors had done for generations, perhaps there is amusement in his eyes to make the wide circle around where they stilled

(ra'gon)
"The eyes of Gaia are upon us. What they see is not as important as how they percieve....Pena"

Casting her a hastened glance, slowly he turns, head high..even in homid his certain senses were beyond rival and comprehension.

"It plays its game." Whispers

"So..." Causual and cool, his gaze upon her there as she stood. "You have swindled another Gaje? How much did you manage to pocket?"

(starling morningmist)
Features sharp in the flickering glow cast by the fire. Rising, dark hair swaying forward with the motion. A single feather fluttering from one of the thin braids adorning her hair. A single half step forward to toss a stick into the fire. Squinting as sparks rise and vanish in the dark. Absently rubbing her cheeks through the jeans to try and bring a little life back to them after sitting so long.

(nadja)
"Another gaje? Think you I can only manage to swindle one?"

Sweet sweet affront in her words. She was good at what she did, as much a swindle as a little smile, tease and leave. Holding herself back from him, as if the very idea she might only swindle one a grave insult before that sparkling little laugh and a kiss falls like silk on his cheek.

"You'll just have to see. I have it tucked away safely."

Yes imagine where she tucks away money in her skirts and blouses. Might make one imagine delightful things, with her devilish, tempting air.

(nakhti)
the steps stop, haunches settling onto the frozen ground, long inky tail wrapping around and over its paws, and deliberately listens, one ear on the conversation at hand, and the other swiveling to listen behind for what may sneak up out of the darkness

(noah)
The wolf slows down to stop near an old deer trail. Large head lowers to the ground, sniffing and blowing at the snow. Familiar scents tickle at his nostrils, and unfamiliar scents soon follow after. His head lifts up, ears rolling back on his head before flicking forward again. He starts off on a new path, speed picking up in his heavy gait, as he broke into a light run.

(ra'gon)
Usually his hand would be tempted to reach, touch and tease her delicate frame under those coarse tips that were fraid. But not this eve. Now his candor to her was neither personal nor indifferent but full of cause. Full of effort. His eyes glistened under the faintest sliver of Luna's shafts that sliced through the canopy at last.

"You are familiar with our Prala Harlequin yes?" Romani was now flowing freely from his lips.

(starling)
A turn of her head sending the feather to fluttering again. Looking back at the collection of cabins with narrowed eyes for a long moment. It was warm inside, but she was comfortable enough near the firepit and not as cooped up feeling. Chocolate gaze dropping to the log she had sat upon for so long. Sure the impression of it's bark would fit perfectly the marks on her cheeks.

(nadja)
The lyrical toungue of their blood slips as easily off her lips, a melody of sound for others, words for Ra'gon. He wasn't playing the game. Obviously their watcher had him bothered.

"Indeed, though only from that one brief meeting. Why do you ask?"

(nakhti)
ears flatten, breifly, in irritation, grasp of their native tongue vague, at best, though one part of his attention returns to their conversation, regardless, and the other listens to the far off gallop in the woods

(ra'gon)
"He lingers with a servant of the Mistress Bast. I want to know why. Though we must acknowledge and respect the power of her Diety, we must also remember they no longer serve Isis but have fallen into service with Apep. It is as our ancients recall it. Tread with our Prala...discover his alliance with the servant of the Goddess and tell me. But beware Pena...do not trust, even the slightest, the infamous Cats of our Ancients. They are beyond our world, they are lost in the Darkness of Apep. You will do this for me?"

(nadja)
Still letting her words drip into the night in Romany

"Need you ask? I am still working on your other task as well, but can certainly see to our Prala. He seemed to want to spend more time with me."

Its not arrogance. She knows that men usually like her, those who have eyes and hearts to look that is. Harlequin was romani, of a sort, and she was nothing if not a shining example of purer lines. Besides, what man didn't like a little song and dance?

(noah)
The wolf's gait slows down once more as he was drawing closer to the origins of the scents. He stops once more, head dropping to sniff around at the ground, trees, long enough to hike a leg up to mark his scent on a few of them. Before he pads off once more.

(nakhti)
a word here, a word there, not enough to string together any semblance of a plan or conversation, perhaps he only enjoys listening to the music of their speech, familiarizing himself with its pattern, a curiosity at the hidden urgency in the request, but nothing more... he is still but a student of their language

(ra'gon)
That if nothing else causes that brow to stretch. High and arched it races up. A slow deliberate suckle to capture his breath.

"Is that so?" spits in English before and with obvious reluctance dismisses any attempt to rebuke it by sliding effortlessly into his native lilting tongue

"Remind me what other endeveor I have placed upon your undertaking Pena"

His hand slipping to tickle across her arm in a gentle slide before returning it to his side.

(starling)
Turning on the toes of one foot to take that half step back to the log. Bending in midstride, hair swishing forward, feather dancing, to snag up the shotgun left leaning against the log. Movements smooth in stepping over the log towards one of the cabins with the gun craddled in the crook of one arm.

(nadja)
Unlike some, her words stay within their language for now. Pity the gaje who could only liten to its sounds, while exotic and sultry from her, were still no more then the wind without knowledge.

"Why the list of items you wished. The hand of a murderer, the herb sage blessed for ritual. . . and there was another. . . oh Prala, I've forgottne the other herb. I am sorry."

Just that hint of mortification in such a failure. Could hardly procure his items without knowing one of them.

(noah)
Words carried on whispered conversations, in a language he was not privy to but was hearing quite a bit of late. His head lifts up, ears rolling forward, perked at the language spoken. Every now and then, Ra'gon's english is plucked up. The wolf falls back into a prowling gait once more, one heavy paw carefully placed before the other. As he makes his way towards them..

(ra'gon)
With a vigorous shake of his head, his voice booming in their native language "No, fret not Pena..this I ask of you now is more important. Though find me this hand of a murderor...make your haste however on these new efforts."

His gaze steals away only shortly "I must depart for only a moment Pena...Only a moment...I shall return"

(OFF WORK HELL YES! Rushing home LMAO!)

(nakhti)
pity the foundering fool, indeed, to hear a language's intricities is one thing, but to fully understand it's beauty and depth is entirely another, and perhaps it mourns him, now, to know what he is missing, even if it were not about the words they share between them

footsteps walk away, but only one, and that brings the lurking shadowcreature from it's hiding, stalking closer as Ra'gon breifly moves away

(nadja)
A laugh, sparkling in night air, and romany pours forth once more

"Of a certainty Prala. I shall be at the Vardo."

And as he dashs off, so like him. They said she was flighty. Her swirling bellsong starts once more as she begins walking back along the path, retracing her steps for the camper. She is not blessed with Prala's senses, only human after all, but does not fear the night. Seems cut from it, with her duscky skin and blacker then black hair that twirls about her waist.

(nahkti)
Vardo... it is a word the creature knows, and it keeps pace with the woman, now just at the edges of night's vision

(noah)
The sound of the bells caught his attention. He had a good idea of who it was. The sister of Gemile. He starts to pad off again, moving along the same direction he smelled her head in. Best to cut her off perhaps, or just scare the hell out of her. Either way.. He was trailing her now.

(nakhti)
there's a swivel of one round ear towards the steps that parallel his, not as quiet, heavier, stockier, it lacks the supple grace of his kind (dog) regardless, the midnight shadow continues it's trail of the sweetly jingling woman

(noah)
The wolf continues padding off, heading back to the Vardo to wait for Nadja..

(nadja)
Oh the secrets the night hid from those who could not see them. She's hardly silent as she moves, intrinsically graceful, light on her feet, skirts sweeping through snow gilded path. Occasionally the eyes glance about, but shadows and darkness make shapes and movements of everything at night. Like a great swirl of activity that only started when the sun went down. She softly sings a little song in romany, to pass her time in her walk, and fill the otherwise Barrens silence with something more comforting.

(nahkti)
secrets, yes, secrets, the lifeblood of others, the scourge of some, which will it be to her.. jaw sharply sculpted lifts, at the words drifting through the still night air, as if to better hear them though hearing makes up for the lack of other abilities, and the creature's pace quickens, just slightly, closing the distance between himself and the unaware woman

(nadja)
Not that long a walk back to the Vardo. Ten, fifteen minutes at most, and she is not hurrying. Should she? Did the watcher truly wish to attack some woman in the woods. . . perhaps foolish confidence. perhaps more to her then meets the eyes. Who can say what a romani kin to Silent Striders is capabale of. Gypsy magicks are hardly not without their own tales.

Song wends its way through the night about her, sultry, lilting exotic words of a wolf in its pursuit of the moon. Made her smile singing it.

[the vardo:
to Nakhti: ::High above the clustered huvel of what could easily be mistaken as nothing other than a cheap KOE campground, the massive Roadrunner in all its cartoon splender ripples from the flagg pole infront of the 36 foot Intruder. A huge camper with side pop outs. Its side door closed, yet it's awning is pulled down for shady comfort. Cheap lawn matt runs the length of it, while a collaspable bench and portable stove accompany the decorum. A few lawn chairs from the 70s are strown about as well. All shades upon the windows are drawn shut.:: )

(nakhti)
what would the assumption be that the animal hungered for flesh and warm blood, would it be insult to it's naturally dark nature, it's instinctive predatory ways, the ravenous cravings that drove the blood through healthy veins, perhaps it hungers, instead, of the knowldge of where it is she sleeps

and the creature stops, just outside the Vardo, melting into the shadows next to a dormant tree

(ra'gon)
The journ from his sister's path was short, only parting the misty veil between the worlds in which they lived. The moment to spread a word with another who lingers on the backside of the mirror, once given he releases and emerges near the vardo in a single instant

(nadja)
Just shortly before her own musical steps come back into their little clearing. Her soft, pretty song twining about the night, as she near dances her way back to her home. No lights within yet, but shadowy form.

"Prala?"

Song interrupted.

(ra'gon)
"Yes" English slid from his tongue past his lips as he neared the door to the vardo.

(nakhti)
Prala, Vardo, Pena several words he already knows, and others he is learning, the animal remains in the shadows outside the camp, quiet as death's stilled breath

(nadja)
"You left so abruptly. Where was it you went?"

She still speaks in gypsy tongue, maybe preferred to. It was her native tongue after all, and after english all day, it only takes a small reminder to set her back into its cadences. Slipping across the clearing towards the Vardo and him.

(ra'gon)
Quiet perhaps, though the scent was there even for him. Strong and near. His shadowed orbs slowly swivel within their sockets cutting through the night.

Again his tongue lilted away in the same language she gave.

"Death's Breath...I have been communing with it. I am here now..though.." Eyes narrow and slowly his hand rises, index finger extending and there he points in the darkness

"Child of Bast..."

(nakhti)
that last part, in any language, in any time, from when the dust was created at the feet of the Pharoahs until the snow falling just last even - there is no mistaking that, the point, the three words, the tones that tell perhaps more than the specific choice of phrasing ever could

and the shadow melts from the darkness, pulling away from the trunk of the tree, the lean slink of figure in a walk that speaks of the royalty that once flowed strong among their ranks, proud and not at all unnerved to have been spotted, the animal moves into a shaft of moonlight, the silver beams seemingly absorbed by whatever lurks beneath its fur, rather than how it should be naturally reflected

it blinks, watching them, haunches sinking to the ground once more, shoulders straight and chin lifted as if Bast herself watching over her people, this nightmare having come to life, midnight tail wrapping around its paws

(nadka)
Finger points, and she pauses, body turning some to look where it gestured. Between the Child of Bast and Ra'gon was Nadja, paused in her path to him and the vardo. Hazel eyes peer, but no wolf, no cat.

"It followed me?"

Still letting speech flow in romany, especially knowing one watched.

(ra'gon)
Nodding once while gesturing for Nadja to slip forward and close, returning his attention upon the silky feline.

(English) "I first thought you spirit, but now I know better. Come closer once servant of Isis...Come mingle with the hands of Annubis"

(nadja)
Does not take much to set her back in motion, set that high silvery bellsong going once more. Perhaps more quickly moving to meet Ra'gon, if only because she had been surprised to see a cat, midnight shadow emerge behind her.

(nakhti)
there's another slow blink, and whiskers on the right side of his muzzle twitch (I had thought you smelled of the Jackal god) in the slightest of sly smiles, that's when the creature flows forward in a combination of strength and weight's momentum, shoulders rolling with each confident step, tail weaving a slow dance in the air behind slim haunches, accepting the invitation into the camp

it walks until within but a few feet of them, perhaps a touch if either stretched, sinking to sit once again, large eyes above angular cheekbones watching the Strider and his kin, and an ear flickers (hello)

(ra'gon)
Brow slowly arching, his eye traverses to Nadja then back to the company. His tongue slapping in Romani "Do not trust this one, but this be the same I saw with our Prala"

English "I must give you warning though, while in my company and that of my family we shall adhear to the old custom. Because you once served with honor one of the Pantheon of Ra under Isis...you are welcome, but know to the others you may encounter all but enthusiasm. Tread wisely here amongst those of us who know only rage"

(nadja)
A startled glance up at Ra'gon still speaking romany.

"This is the one you wish me to find out about?"

Before her face drops back to study him, curiously, face falling back to its normal planes of devilish thoughts and smiles.

(gemile)
"Who? Wha? STOP STOP!" *Uttering feverously. Sweat beeding upon her brow, hands grasping tightly threating to rip the ends of her pillow.* "Nooooo" *Sultry protests escaping her dreamy lips. Each breath bringing quivers to them. A sudden jolt and she was upright, her eyes wide open, mouth agap followed by a huge sigh* "Thank god" *No one would ever know about that dream*

(nakhti)
those unnerving eyes lift to the startled expression on Nadja's face, a slow ripple going through fine ebon whiskers (why are you so surprised?) as if the slyest of smiles, perhaps it did not need to know the words, there are other ways in which the creature seems to understand her surprise, but at the English words, polite attention is turned back towards Ra'gon, this familiar stranger from the paths the other night

it's chin shifts, in what may resemble a nod (i understand) all the communication he is able to offer the two bipedal creatures, all that he knows will be clearly understood, and perhaps it's expressions would begin to speak of something else, offered towards these two that extend their hospitality, but ears swivel forward, chin lifting, hearing the hushed desperate sounds from within the Imperial's walls, weight shifting to look around Ra'gon and towards the aluminum siding, before a glance back (that did not sound positive)

(ra'gon)
Blinks and nods to Nadja in response, head canting to the side.

"I believe I hear your sister waking inside. Another dream?" Lips parting evily with a knowing glint.

(nadja)
"You know what I think will cure those dreams. . "

That almost laughing little smile enough words. The innuendo plain. No sometimes it wasn't as much fun to be subtle and she laughs. Trust the cat, okay, but not at least enjoy being herself. Would never happen.

"Think you I should go check on her?"

(gemile)
Clamouring from benieth tussled sheets, she stood and streached. Brows furrowing, her slender hands came down to rub the sweat from her face as she made her way out of the back bedroom and into the small bathroom.
The cold water bringing reality back into focus a bit more as she splashed it upon her face. Eyes wide, catching her image in the mirror as she then steadied herself.
...just a dream... or two... means nothing... must be Nadja's cooking...have to speak to her about that....

(ra'gon)
"I am sure she is fine" Again in Romani "Would you like me to introduce you to this..." Hand absently jesturing towards the cat.

(nakhti)
dreams... that inspires a slight tilt to the corners of the muzzled mouth, how interesting dreams can be, especially when you may hold and manipulate them right in the warmth of your very hands, and while that is temptation in itself, the large, thin cat stretches to stand, gaze resting upon Ra'gon once more, an almost imperceptible narrowing of hazel eyes (your welcome appreciated, until we next cross paths, Jackal's children) the fluidity of grace carrying the animal back out of their sight

((I gotta git for a bit, thanks for the play!))

(nadja)
"It seems it is not necessary Prala."

Quirky little smile. She'd know soon enough. Harlequin would yield up something she was sure, perhaps several somethings if she did her job well.

Posted by nakhti at January 07, 2003 12:00 AM

Comments