Names and Faces

JP with Cindy and White_Caribou

Shalia nodded at the question about which language the journal was in. "I know it," she had replied confidently.

She was beginning to collect herself again when the Prophetess reached out to take her hand. Shalia fought the sudden urge to jerk it away, the feeling of another unwanted sensation. But she internally demanded that this was okay. That this was Islana.
Back when they had shared a moment to talk personally at the Armat Caravanserai, Shalia wanted so dearly to take the younger woman's hand--an impulse of craving a connection. She always remembered the gentlest touch on her arm and its sentiments. Her bruised cheeks flushed at this wave of feeling, but it likely was not noticeable with the discoloration.

And then her delicate hand retreated again.

Shalia looked almost lovingly at Islana but ultimately said nothing. Her finger twitched as if wanting to feel it all again, knowing it was safe now. Not a threat to her body or magik or mind.

And yet, she did it again. Said nothing to thank Islana or show her gratitude for offering comfort. And now the opportunity passed. 'Will I ever get it right?'

The Prophetess seemed to give pause as well before continuing.

Voah. There was at last a name to the face and sword now. Voah. She repeated it over in her head. As the Seer examined the cards, Shalia cursed the name of Alcuin. It all came back to him, didn't it? He was the single loose end that strung everyone out to serve himself.
She glanced to Islana again who had taken another moment of silence with intense consideration on her face. Would it always be this heavy when they spoke?

It would very soon gain much more weight.

Shalia immediately winced upon the question and directed her face away from the woman. Enough time had been bought; reality was crawling along the floor to grotesquely catch up with her. Already her pulse quickened upon imagining the man’s normal form and the daunting task at hand; navigating the slippery slope between what he really looked like and what he didn’t.

'She did not ask you about the touch itself or how you reacted, only how he appeared. His eyes. The hand. The arm that went with it and the chest it connected to. What did they look like? An easy question! Just answer.'

She leaned on the table with her hands and bit the inside of her cheek before speaking, but the statement was choppy and terse.
"His skin was covered in marks. It wasn't...uh…" Shalia found it more difficult by the second to answer like the words were ripped off her tongue. Her chest was beginning to rise and fall in jagged breaths, keeping the worst of it back. His image slowly fizzled away and all she had were the most haunting features. Her thoughts trailed. "Not injuries. Um, long hair…eyes black as night. Empty and…”

‘What the fuck are you doing?’ She asked silently with a poisonous realization, having caught herself fumbling the question. ‘This is how you make an impression on the Immortal Prophetess? Being torn down by your demons--by one man no less?’

Her demeanor shifted immediately and she straightened her posture, taking a small step back from the table. Shalia faced Islana again with breaths falling back into consistency. The genuine consideration in the redhead’s starting words had not been lost on the witch.

Shalia spoke directly now with some reinstated sense of purpose, even if it was for a mere moment. Behind it all, she was obviously shaken to the core still.
“Yes. He had strange symbols on his skin.”

Why did she ask? Maybe, it would have been better if the redhead had never known. In her mind, the description given by the other woman was definitely Gonyaul. Except the eyes, Islana would never describe his eyes as empty. Full, dark, but not empty. Then again, he had never scared Islana the way that Shalia had apparently been traumatized by him. The negating magik ability didn't fit what she knew about the man but it had to be him.

The Prophetess looked up at Shalia, the others on her mind having mixed feelings about Shalia's reaction but Islana knew trauma, she understood the reaction. After internally telling the less sympathetic voices to shut up, green eyes looked directly at the other witch. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have made you go through that again." With a gentle sense of caring to her voice.

The confirmation of strange symbols, only further confirmed the Sister's suspicion. Had he changed, had something happened to cause this? Something or more like a lot of things weren't adding up.

Silence fell in the room as the redhead rubbed her forehead for a moment. If that has been Gonyaul, Alexis, Voah and likely the other man was Tarmen--that meant what exactly?

"I know them. I think I know all of them, except whoever was the magik wielder." The woman didn't know how the next statement would be taken. "I also don't think they are working with the Inquisition. Maybe, Voah but not the rest."

The whispers which held the wisdom of the ages, clearly disagreed. Islana closed her eyes and took some deep breaths trying to quiet them but it took several minutes. When her eyes finally opened they landed back on Shalia. "We should probably move on. What else did you get?"