The TwiceBorn

Islinn

"There's no coming back this way."--Path of Thorns

As he stood on the platform a midst the bids that sounded as though they were shouted in a foreign tongue, Behrin's inability to make her understand came for him.  He turned and looked at Clive.  He opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out. Clive looked away.

Time was passing so quickly now. Before it had stumbled and shuddered in the heat.  Now it flashed by, heartlessly,and forced him to hurry and make a decision on what he'd mistakenly thought had already been decided.

And because he had nowhere else to look he looked at her as she stood beside him.  An emotion so strong, so intense, took him and stole his breath away.  He was suddenly fiercely glad that the sun was so bright.  She would never know that the tears in his sun-reddened eyes were for her.

She gazed out over the crowd, her face carefully composed.  

"Not giving an inch."He thought with a sickening burst of pride.  He noticed how kind the sun was to her in comparison to himself.  It played along the patterns of her beautiful face and bathed her in a warm, soft glow.  

Behrin was abruptly afraid of everything he'd committed to memory: the sorrel eyes, the blond hair, the feel of her tight, sinewy body beneath his own.  Yes,he was afraid because all these images had the power to make him forget he'd ever known anything or anyone other than her.  

The way the wind rippled and spilled her hair.  The proud,firm jaw.  The way she'd bite her lower lip when upset, the desirable swing of her hips as though they knew, independent of her own thought, the kind of woman she would grow to be...all these things had set his mouth for her and no one else but...she lacked the ability to understand.

He reached his hand out and lightly touched the inside of one rigid arm.  The words he whispered to her were so shamelessly defenseless that his cheeks burned with more fire then the sun could ever muster.  Her expression remained the same.  She shook her head.  

He stepped back quickly and gave her a sickly, yellow grin.  That little shake of the head was more effective in bringing him to his senses than a slap to the face.

"You stupid bitch."  He said in a pitying tone.

 Her eyes slid over him then away.

"Fuck you." She replied.  The air of dismissal, the tilt of that arrogant chin, infuriated Behrin in a place where only someone he loved could cause such a hurt.

"Who will throw down the first bid for this Borean whore?"

 The words tasted good, as thick and strong as raw honey, as they rolled off his lips.  The bidding erupted eagerly from all sides and he grinned, delighted.  He was unaware of how his hand stole back to touch the soft material of her tunic.

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 It wasn't very often Alora could honestly say that she was in the right place at the right time.  In fact, it had never happened.  Loki sensed her sudden attention and lifted his head. He gazed stupidly at the platform.  Alora remained still and let him enjoy the shade a bit longer.  

Her thoughts drifted back to djahutis again. Those cheap little sandals and the packages that wore them.  Her eyes slid to the boots the girl on the platform wore.  Very nice, ankle high boots.  Possibly made out of deerskin.  Maybe even a fawn.  Alora began to smile.  Nice tunic too.  Clean. Belted with braided leather.

All of this spoke eloquently to her but what yelled the loudest was the way Behrin's trembling fingers delicately clasped that material.  It told her everything she needed to know about this off-beat little arrangement.