You've skillfully raised such eternal issues as the greater good vs. personal well-being, strategy vs. tactics, duty and honor, life and death…
I realize that this miniature is not for everybody, but I had the best intentions in mind when writing it, so I beg your pardon if you find this material somehow disturbing.
You are always welcome to share your reaction, even if it is a negative one, just try to be precise.
Thank you for your interest.
The line
Length and Status: (short sketch (2000 words)) (complete but there may be related material later)
Explicit Content: M WARNING do not try this at home
Story Elements: (Drama, psychology)
Synopsis: PCs are as different as people that play them, and their reactions to Companions cannot be limited to picking prepared phrases. What lies beneath any of us? What we are made of? Alistair is to discover that.
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The fire was crackling cozily, and the evening was warm. Everybody was busy with their own chores.
The dwarf surprisingly meticulously polished his axe; women went to the river to bring some water but by the sounds of them they decided to bathe there instead; Zevran apparently went with them, for their giggles sometimes changed into squeaks and not too serious scolding. Shale stood far from the campsite and listened to the night, for it was her turn to watch; Sten went hunting and was due only next morning.
Akasha was sitting near the fireplace, relaxing with a bottle of wine. She felt ecstasy in each of her lithe limbs for she felt clean and cozy in her new fresh clothes instead of the usual wearisome armor.
She stroked the stubble on her shaven head and sighed.
Something in the air suggested it would be no quiet night. In the transparent and clear surroundings she perceived a distinct tangle of emotions coming closer to her.
Alistair approached her cautiously. Blushing like a peony, he blurted out:
“Could you answer a question?... I'm just curious... maybe it's inappropriate of me to ask, but what are your intentions towards him? Is it very serious? If you'll tell me, that is...”
Akasha frowned momentarily but then saw Alistair and smiled at him lightly.
“Him? You mean Zev?”
Alistair swallowed and continued his undoubtedly prepared speech:
"I was under the impression that the two of you were romantically involved. I would have said something sooner, but... I didn't know how to put it without sounding... you know. Jealous.”
Akasha shrugged and motioned the young templar to sit
down beside her.
“He is fun” she answered in a casual voice, watching the man.
Alistair relaxed a bit, sighed in relief and moved on:
“Ah, that's… good to hear… So now that I got that off my chest, let me ask something else: do you have any feelings towards me?”
Akasha smiled brightly and hugged him:
“Oh you, my dear…” she kissed him on the mouth. “You are my sweet tender flower. I love you very much…” she smiled “Even though you shun me…”
Alistair almost suffocated with desire that her kisses ignited in him, thoughts in his head a total mess, but nevertheless he tried to maintain a sturdy exterior.
“You… oh… I'll lose my head…”
She kissed him again, and the poor fellow moaned.
Akasha took pity on him and gave him some wine to drink.
He drank it barely registering what he drank.
“You…” he tried to speak again “…just said what I think you said?”
The woman smiled.
“Oh, I'm sorry, I forgot you were deaf as well. Yes, stupid head, I happen to care for you a great deal. Here, this doesn't sound as scary as that big “L” word, right?”
Alistair exhaled and blushed even more.
“I… care… for you too… Which is why it doesn't seem right to lead him on. Or... well, to lead me on, to be honest. Either you're with someone or you're not. You know what I mean. Either you're with him or you're with me.”
Akasha frowned again. Her eyes flashed with icy sparks.
“What I have with Zev has nothing to do with what I have with you. Apples and oranges.”
But the young man stubbornly shook his head.
“No. I'm sorry, but I... I just can't do that. I'm sorry to put this on you, but I have to. If you can't, then... then that is
your decision. I can't do it, otherwise. I won't, I'm sorry.”
Akasha rolled her eyes.
“Stupid boy” she muttered under her breath. “Don't you get it? My heart is with you. Zev is dead inside. His life did not give him a choice.”
Alistair looked away. She felt his heart sinking.
“But still you cling to him.” he swallowed with difficulty, for his throat grew very tight. “Then it is not love you have for
me… Well, there's... nothing more to discuss, is there? I… I need to… go somewhere... Excuse me.”
He stood up shakily and left for his tent, where he hastily hid.
Akasha sighed and closed her eyes.
She could still feel the warmth of fire on her face but it did not make her happy anymore.
In a few moments she felt that someone was standing near the rocks shielding them from the river.
She opened her eyes to stare into the fire and asked quietly:
“How much have you heard?”
Zevran moved soundlessly towards the campfire.
“Almost all of it. It was very strange to hear from you that you think I'm dead inside.”
She shrugged.
“And you aren't?”
He sat near to her and took a swig from her bottle.
“You know me like nobody else. You tell me.”
Akasha looked at him and made a long inhale as if sniffing at him. Watched his eyes, then turned away and listened to him. Then she spoke.
“You hide. You shield very efficiently a little spark in the void of your heart. Lately, this spark has been growing. You must feel more vibrant, more full, more complete.”
Zervan turned his head nervously to observe Oghren, who apparently was oblivious to his surroundings, busy to make his axe shine.
The Antivan sighed and shifted uneasily.
“You can be scary sometimes.”
“You wanted my opinion. Still, a spark is not a fire, it cannot warm me up. That's why I said to Alistair what I said.”
Zevran caressed her shoulders and carefully observed her. He found out that reading her became easier for him, for she was with him as intensely truthful as he with her.
“You're regretting that you did not choose him instead of me?”
Akasha sighed.
“Yes, I am. But it is just me being possessive.”
“Does this knowledge make you feel any better?”
“No.”
Zevran kissed her on the neck, his skillful hand brushed her side, and the woman instantly felt flicks of desire irradiating to her hips.
“Mmmm, Ser Magical Fingers, don't distract me, let me think.”
The Antivan sighed.
“What's there to think? All of your thoughts are already in that guy's tent.”
Akasha laughed and stood up.
“Don't follow me.”
She sniffed and listened again to something in the ether, enveloping the surroundings with her attention, registering Shale's, the women's, and the men's positions and moods; focused on the glowering body in the tent… And headed there on her light springy legs.
Alistair lay there, his face covered with his hands. The air inside the tent was thick with distress.
Akasha slithered her way in and gently lay beside him.
Imperceptibly, she wrapped her hands around him and lay there quietly, listening to his soft sobs.
Thus passed an hour. Alistair could not summon enough will to drive her out of his tent for her presence was so soothing and comforting that he just could not bring himself to do it.
At last he took his hands from his face, turned to lie on his back and whispered in a feeble voice:
“Please… go… away…”
Akasha smiled gently, and started kissing him lightly on the face.
“I cannot let my friend suffer in silence without trying to help him.”
Alistair shut his eyes tightly. Half of him wanted her kisses so badly it hurt, the other told him to get away from her.
At last he moaned:
“You are not helping me. You are hurting me.”
Akasha sighed. Her palms felt warm and firm through the thin fabric of his shirt.
“So we need an explosion, not soothing. Too bad. It will hurt me as much as it hurts you.”
The young man could not understand a word from what she said. His head was totally dysfunctional, as it tried to correlate all the contradictory feelings he was experiencing.
“I don't understand what you are saying…”
“I'm just deciding on how to bring you out of this self-pitying state.”
In an instant, the man stirred:
“You call it self-pity?!”
She did not pursue the subject but started caressing and kissing him more actively, getting excited as she went on, feeling his mounting passion.
He felt torn apart by his body, heart and mind. He wanted her so badly, but on the other side she was not doing this to him out of love (or so he thought), she was just being predatory…
Finally, he sat up with a start and panted:
“Get out! Please get out!”
Akasha sighed and evaluated him at a glance.
“So you are kicking me out because you want me? Logical. Oh well, so be it…”
She rose and, instead of leaving the tent, pressed her strong fingers to a spot on his neck.
“What are… ?” he uttered and fainted.
She sighed and muttered under her breath:
“Things you make me do…”
Hurriedly, she tied him up and slapped him to wake him up.
“What are you doing?!!” was his first reaction.
Akasha slapped him hard again across his face and grabbed him by the throat.
“Now you will have to fight for each breath.” she said as she kissed him on the mouth.
At first he was slow on the taking as he tried to grasp what was going on…
Then there was panic and furious struggling…
All the strength of his emotions went into this resistance. And only on the brink of fainting, when his body really started fighting for each breath and overrode the feeble commands of the mind, did he start to pay attention to what exactly he was feeling.
And he felt a huge rush of excitement, his body felt like a powerful and incredibly sophisticated instrument strained to the extreme. Each touch of the woman felt like she was playing a heavenly electric symphony on his nerve strings. At times she let him gulp some air, never stopping to kiss him, lick him, caress him and torment him in other ways.
No mind of his remained, only sensations and the present moment. He saw her looming over him and felt moist warmth enveloping his throbbing member; he groaned, his body arched towards the warmth and moisture, he could no more identify his sensations, he just gave in to them, let them sweep him away in their violent torrent.
When everything ended, Akasha let out a long exhale, released Alistair’s throat and dismounted him. They were both panting and covered in sweat. He was coughing.
She undid the ties and lay down beside him, giving him time to come to his senses.
When he returned from his unusual trip, he did not ask her anything, he just took her hand and lay beside her, watching the woman in silence and basking in the afterglow of his sensations. Surprisingly, his feelings for her became fuller, broader and deeper, much deeper. It was as if she took off some mask of his, revealing his true self.
In the morning, when she left him, he did not object, just thoughtfully watched her gather her clothes and leave.
Zevran caught up with her by the river. When she came out of the water, he offered her a mug full of fresh tea.
“So... You broke him.”
Akasha took the mug, sighed and nodded.
“Half of me will hate myself for that. He had so beautiful feelings, so innocent and fresh. I took it away.”
Zevran sighed.
“However fresh, none of them would last forever. Last night he got rid of emotions and saw what true feelings are made of. I envy him.”
They saw Alistair approaching the river. He caught sight of them too and hesitated at first. Then he came closer and stood there waiting for Akasha to pay attention to him.
She came closer and smiled warmly at him.
He smiled shyly in return.
“I… I guess I understand now about apples and oranges…” he said quietly, watching her in disbelief. His voice was raspy and deep; but it was not the strangling that accounted for the voice depth, but rather a new dimension to the man.
Akasha kissed him affectionately on the lips and smiled.
“Now you can make your own informed opinion.”
And she left them both on the bank.
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The point
to this story is that a golf ball-size consciousness produces a golf ball-size
understanding; education, such as that in the Chantry, for example, narrows one's
understanding. It can be shed by an event that shakes one to the core.
For we feel
most alive when in deadly danger or in love (not selfish, biological, but a higher,
true one), then we can perceive the world from a broader perspective, and we
can sense the ever-escaping finesse that makes us alive.
Side
comment: I don't believe that people who play with death on a daily basis would
play out such emotional soap operas as the ones portrayed in the game. In such
conditions everything becomes very simple and clear: the survival is essential,
everything else – disposable. And there is no question who sleeps with whom, it
just happens to relieve tension.
Modifié par Sattva, 12 juillet 2010 - 10:22 .
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