Rain and Ashes, Part II

[Castigo]

The young girl clung as tightly as she could to the jaguar. One of her arms was wrapped around his neck whilst the other held onto her pole. She held it horizontally at an angle across her back so that it would not impede his ability to run. Since both her hands were not free, her legs did most of the tight clinging. Sweat began to pop up in droplets all over her face, which was buried in the creature's back, seeking escape from the ice cold wind and the pounding hail.

The ride was strenuous. The repetitive up-and-down motion of the cat's leaps and bounds began to make her slightly dizzy. The distance between themselves and the fissure he had spotted seemed to stretch on into eternity...

Eventually, she felt her ride come to a stop. Confusion overtook her face - they were still in the rain. Lifting her head a small amount, she saw that he was hesitating before the entrance of an underground cave. Finally, she thought with a sigh of relief. She buried her damp, ash-stained face back into his back and waited patiently for him to crawl down into their sanctuary. Her grip had loosened slightly, but tightened up once more as his body tilted forward and began its decent into the darkness.

Darkness...

Cas loved the darkness. All the tension that was left in her from her earlier encounter with the jaguar dissipated into it. Every muscle in her body went lax for a moment as she gently released the werecreature and slid down from his back. She took a step back from him to lean her pole against the rocky walls; then she hurried a few paces ahead of him enthusiastically to peer further into the blackness of the tunnel they had discovered.

Even though the darkness was enough to please her, curiosity took over and an overwhelming need to see her surroundings more clearly seized her. Without thinking it over first, she morphed partially, only revealing her beast eyes, which were glazed over and golden as the sun. With these eyes she could see the walls in much greater detail. She turned around to re-examine them nearest the entrance with a smile on her face almost as bright as her eyes, whose light alone was enough to highlight the speckles of ash and the tufts of red hair matted to her face.

"All of these writings... they must be inscriptions in the old tongue. This is incredible."

[Pagan]

Pagan felt the girl slide from his back and wander into the darkness. His gaze followed her outline as she moved around the tunnel investigating the walls. He lazily eased to the ground and laid there for a moment, content to remain in his beastly form, for this was his haven. He was not forced to deal with other beings, for few beings were foolish enough to cross the path of massive jaguar. He had met a few fools willing to do, and upon them his ferocious temper had been released.

Pagan was a loner, one who seemed to be running from or toward something. He did not do well in the presence of others, for they tended to grind his nerves to their breaking points. He had little patience for ignorance or idiocy, but his temper was well-tamed. Lose of control showed weakness of character, and Pagan felt that he was a dignified being and had no desire to change that. His travels had brought him in contact with any types of people, most of which had solidified his opinion that the nomadic, independent life was right for him. His passions were too unlike those of others, for he sought intelligence and wisdom, not material things. His life, though short compared to many, had taught him that greed was the root of much evil.

Pagan suddenly lifted his great head and shook it, as though casting those thoughts from his mind. His eyes searched for the girl hastily in the dark, finally locating her by the entrance. Just as his eyes rested upon her, she breathed words of great excitement. Pagan rose from his resting place and, rather than moving toward her, retreated further into the darkness. He started to transform back into his human form, but this took longer than before. His body was sore from the hail, which had produced large bruises on his human skin. The aches that had hardly bothered him as a jaguar now were rather overwhelming. With great care, he clothed himself. He wore black pants and a loose black shirt, simple and easy, both things he appreciated.

Walking back over to the girl, he noticed for the first time her bird eyes. His half-smile returned. "You and I are a bit alike, I see," he commented softly before focusing on the wall.

[Castigo]

She offered him a sheepish smile in exchange for his comment. Tilting her head up at him while so close gave her a real sense for just how tall this man was.

She felt silly for having been so excitable upon entering the Ash Wastes. Every bit of common sense reminded her that it was the right way to be when traveling alone through hostile territory; she just couldn't get over the irony of running into such a kind Shen the moment she entered it. Not only was he her kin, but his eyes were so much like his. It was hard to look away.

But she managed.

"I just wish I could read it," she said as her smile began to falter a little. "That knowledge must be lost to all Shen but the dryads by now." She absently ran her fingers along the ancient characters etched into the stone walls. Her mind left their plane for just a moment.

"I'm really sorry about earlier!" The words stumbled out of her mouth much too quickly, making them sound a lot louder than she intended. "I shouldn't have judged you... I mean, I'm alone and you could have been dangerous... but you weren't! You are very kind, and... I'm... I apologize."

[Pagan]

Pagan looked down at the girl and laughed, a sound even more alluring than his voice. "The Dryads are stingy with their knowledge, for it is unparalleled by all Shen and possibly dangerous if taken by the wrong people," he informed her. The silence consumed the cavern once again, and his gaze absently followed her fingers as they traced the ancient characters.

Suddenly, the silence was broken by her outburst of apologies. Pagan's body tensed as the echoes erupted into his sensitive, unexpecting ears. Then the words registered in his mind, and his smile evaporated. In fact, all signs of kindness vanished as he turned completely to face her. Once again an intimidating aura began to fill the atmosphere around then. His turbulent gray eyes went as cold as stone. His lips pressed firmly together and his brow creased as he stared at her with a growing intensity. The serenity that had moments ago possessed him now seemed foreign to Pagan.

"Never ever apologize for defending yourself," he growled, his voice suddenly more animal like than human. "You know not what lies in the hearts of strangers."

[Castigo]

Her cheeks flushed with several emotions: a bit of embarrassment, a tinge of anger, and a dash of gratitude. Yes, gratitude... why would he even bother to advise her against what he considered foolishness if not for her own benefit?

"I realize you mean well by saying that... even though you don't seem so kind anymore..."

The ferocity that he took on compelled her to think about the rest of her response very carefully before delivering it. What he said was true. There was no way to know a stranger's heart. This was a fact she actively avoided thinking about. Those who she had made privy to the purpose of her wanderings had often told her that her father was a stranger also. That she "cannot know his heart." All of her searching may very well be in vain, but she couldn't simply sit idly and dream. Dream of what she wants but can never have because she lacked the moxy to reach forth and take it.

"What I mean is that... I'm not sorry I defended myself. I'm sorry that my first encounter with a friend was such an unpleasant one for us both."

She smiled tentatively, hoping that this new verbage would prove satisfactory.

[Pagan]

Pagan towered over her, and he seemed hardly alive. His breathes were slow and deep, and he did not blink as she spoke. Once the ring of her words had faded, the silence seemed to cut like knives. His mind raced from subject to subject as her words filled swam around his brain. She had referred to him as a friend, yet she did not even know his name. This girl was foolish... No, not foolish, naive. The world seemed so new to her, and he found her innocence refreshing. Yet, he could not seem to calm the turbulence within him.

It seemed like ages that he stood there, motionless, staring down at her; however, it was but a minute or so. Finally, he turned away from her, ripping his gaze from her eyes. He began took several strides away from her, his fists slowly uncoiling with each step. He paused and took a deep, steadying breath. He was losing the control he had spent so long seeking. He ran his hand across his face then through his hair, causing ash-saturated water to cascade to the ground. He silently talked himself into peaceful before turning back to face the girl.

"You understand little, my small friend, " he said, his voice returning to its normal entrancing tone. He gave her a gentle, heart warming smile and then slowly closed the gap between them once again. "I am Pagan." With those words, he extended a massive hand to shake hers. It was as though that eruption of chaotic emotion has never happened.

[Castigo]

She cast her gaze downward when he turned away from her, red bangs covering her face. She must have said the wrong thing again. Talking to someone had never proven this difficult before. It made her wish she had stayed in the shadows, deep in the Caves of Destruction. The young Shen would have to learn sooner or later the shadows could not compare to living company, whether the company was of friends, foes, or strangers. Knowing her, it would probably be later.

She fidgeted with the hem of her skirt for a moment. It was made of red dragon-hide like her poncho. The hood was filled with about a liter of sooty rain water, but she was too preoccupied to notice the added weight. Leaning her back against the runes, she turned her gaze to the crack in the earth through which they had entered. The rainstorm raged on outside, and now lightning had joined the display as well. That first flash illuminated the walls nearest the entrance, revealing the writings that covered both walls and ceiling as deep grooves in the rock. She wondered vaguely if An Do mages were responsible for the runes...

She started when she heard his voice again; she had assumed he planned to ignore her for the remainder of their time as refugees from nature. His comment confused her, but she couldn't help meeting his smile with a smile of her own. She extended her hand and softly took hold of his for a formal shake. Her hand was just barely large enough to take hold of his rather large one, which felt rough and dry - also very warm.

"I was waiting for you to tell me. My name is Castigo."

[Pagan]

Pagan felt her her small hand contort to his, which had closed gently around her. His long fingers engulfed her hand easily, and he was suddenly quite aware of how delicate the girl was. Compared to his broad-chested, muscular, 6'2" form, she was but a blade of grass. A feisty blade of grass... he thought as he released her fragile hand. He was slightly astounded at how cold her skin had felt compared to his own. Pagan's body temperature was much higher than most beings, though he was not sure if this was to be accounted to his genes or his Were form.

As another flash of lightning slashed through the sky, he noticed it's reflection in the small pond Castigo was carrying around in her hood. "For some reason, I don't think you need an entire ocean of ashy water," he commented as he stepped closer to her so that he could empty the water from her hood. The black water cascaded quickly down behind her, but he was careful to position the waterfall so that it would not rewet her too much.

He stepped back and gave her a bemused glance before gracefully descending to the ground. He sat with one long leg stretched out and the other bent so that his ankle rested just above his knee. Pagan relaxed back against the wall and gazed out the opening. "Tell me about yourself," he said quietly, his gray eyes still focused on the storm.

[Castigo]

He bewildered her when he stepped so close to her, but she laughed when she realized what he was talking about. "Thank you - I can't believe I didn't notice that..." she said, suddenly becoming aware of the hair matted onto her face as well. She wiped her forehead and the sides of her face with her hand, smudging the soot in the process.

As he sat, she became distracted by how dirty her hand had become after leaving her face. She leaned forward and wiped her hand on her tights. I wonder how often I walk around looking silly like this, she thought. It seemed a strange thought to her at the time. It left her mind as quickly as it had come when she heard his question. That question was stranger to her than the thought had been.

"I can't remember the last time someone has asked me that. I don't know if anyone ever has, actually."

She resolved, after telling him that much, to be as honest as possible.

"Well, I am about two decades old, possibly a couple years less, most likely a couple more; I lose interest in keeping count sometimes," she started with a glance down at him, turning her own gaze towards the storm as she continued, "I've never really spent much time around other Shen that weren't forest folk. Elves, dryads, fae, and the like. You're the first werecreature I've ever met."

She smiled as she said the last part.

"Let's see...," she thought aloud after a brief silence, "Um... my mother passed. She was graced with rebirth, but she passed again soon after. I've only ever seen my father once. I don't know if he's alive or dead."

[Pagan]

Castigo's life summary filled the tunnel, bringing the darkness to life with the echoes of her words and crashes of thunder. The rain, thunder, and her voice all seemed to coincide, creating a song that told more about her life than the actual words she spoke. Pagan barely looked away from the entrance as she spoke, his only responses being nods and smiles when they were appropriate. Yet, something about his demeanor made it clear that he was listening. Perhaps it was the fact that his frame was angled in her direction, or maybe it was the way in which he seemed to nod or smile at just the right moment.

Her explanation may have been brief, but it was enough to peak Pagan's curiosity. He was familiar with stories of reincarnation, but never had he actually met someone who had gone through the process. He wondered if it was painful or frightening to be without a body. Maybe it was tranquil to just be floating, but then why would anyone return to a living cage if that were the case? His mind was spinning with many questions, but they all remained unspoken, for they seemed a bit too personal to ask in his opinion.

Pagan tilted his head in her direction, which involved him actually looking up to see her. He smiled vaguely at the smeared soot across her cheeks and the wild jungle that was her hair. He knew that he, too, was a mess, but this did not bother him, for he tended to be remain in a disarrayed state of being.

"Take a seat," he insisted after a brief silence, "And tell me why you picked this body." Though stated as a command, his smooth tone made it seem more like a question of great consequence. Pagan was always one to be fascinated by the workings of the mind and the soul. Now seemed to be a good time to broaden his understanding, even if it was just his understanding of this girl.

[Castigo]

Her gaze broke away from the fissure. They turned gray again. She redirected it down at him, giving him the closest thing to a cold stare she had ever given anyone. As with the gold and her smile before, the color of her eyes matched the expression in them once more. She had purposely left the fact of her own disembodiment out of the story. Nobody needed to know this body was not in fact her own. Nobody.

He must have figured it out because of her age. I guess werecreatures age faster and more often than other Shen. Human werecreatures, at least. Cas felt more naked now than she would have had she been telling her story without any clothes on.

Her feet were slightly parted at the beginning of her story. The foot that stood nearest to Pagan found its way closer its partner.

She continued to look down at him as a million thoughts flew through her mind. What could she do now that he knew? What should she do? Did she need to do anything? It wasn't until someone had guessed her secret that she even realized she wanted it to be a secret.

And why?

She took her dark stare and threw it at the wall in front of her, boring into the stone with it, as she questioned how badly she was feeling. There was the obvious intention of fooling her father with this body... but, now that she thought about it, if she remembered Squall properly, he would not fall for such trickery. Perhaps the person she really intended to fool with this guise was herself.

Her gaze softened. Her eyes closed for a moment. She sank down into a seated position beside Pagan, barely noticing as her arm brushed his on the way down. She hugged her knees and rested her chin in the crevice between them.

"She was dead," she stated matter-of-factly, "Beheaded while in her human form. She would have sprung forth anew from her own ashes had she been killed as a beast..."

"I'm... she was a were-phoenix, you see," she added for clarification, "The first time my mother passed, I was still in her womb. I was never born. The girl looked much like I might have had I been born. She looked like my mother. Her eyes were blue, though. They changed to match my father's eye color, in time...."

She replaced her chin with the side of her face upon her knees. She stared unseeingly at Pagan's torso. She could only see his face peripherally.

"It was a rare opportunity. Were-phoenixes are rare, and they rarely die. Plus, I had been searching for a body for a very long time beforehand... I was getting tired. What more could I ask for than a creature born of fire to possess, one that looked so much like my mother when she was a Que Gou elf?"

After another moment, she sat up and turned down the high collar of her poncho, revealing the scar that circled her neck the whole way around. She still didn't look at him. She was learning what nudity felt like.

[Pagan]

Pagan watched the frenzy of emotions race across Castigo's visage as she snapped her head in his direction. Obviously he had touched a soft spot, something he did often when he interacted with others. Pagan may not have been gifted with magic, but he was very perceptive of others. He found it easy to separate the truth from the lies and to tell when things were left out of explanations. If he learned to bridle his perception and not always speak upon them, he would have been very gifted with interactions with others. However, he felt no urge to associate with other beings, therefore it was of no use to him.

As she slipped down next to him, Pagan leaned away a bit in order to study her face. As he waited patiently for her to speak, he noted how she looked so young and vulnerable in that position. He felt a tinge of pity for the girl, for she seemed so lost, yet what could he do?

He let her words filled the tunnel without interruption, for he was genuinely interested in what she had to say. Obviously speaking these words was hard for her, and he felt no desire to make the task even more difficult. As she spoke of the death of her mother, he felt a sharp ache grown in his chest as memories of his own mother threatened his mind, but he shoved those thoughts away, for he had deemed them forbidden. The past should be left where it lie he believed.

His eyes traced the line of the scars followed by his fingers. Pagan lost himself in thought as he wondered how she had managed to reattach her own head. His mind began to race from one thing to another, ranging from the texture of her scar to his fascination with the afterlife. Suddenly, he realized that his fingers had been connected to her skin for a moment longer than was acceptable and he hastily jerked back, a vague feeling of embarrassment looming over him. His people skills really needed honing, and Pagan found himself at a loss of words.

[Castigo]

She was slightly taken aback when he started to touch her scar. Her body didn't tense up any more than it already had, but his actions did puzzle her. It wasn't something she had invited or expected him to do.

That describes everything he's done or said to me today. Uninvited. Unexpected.

She hadn't asked to be acknowledged as she crossed into the Ash Wastes. She hadn't expected to be offered a ride to shelter. She hadn't invited his wisdom on self-defense. She hadn't expected him to continue treating her so well when he seemed to think so little of her. And she certainly hadn't asked or expected him to lay his hands on the most sensitive part of her body, the only one she was conscious of and kept covered for the sole purpose of keeping it unseen.

But she did not dislike it.

Just as it had occurred to her, his fingers flew abruptly from her neck and back to their keeper. After a moment of silence between them, she reluctantly turned her face toward his. She offered him a smile, a small one because a larger one was harder to manage in her current state of dejection.

"Unnatural, isn't it?" she whispered in a self-defeating tone.

[Pagan]

Pagan erupted with laughter, which filled the tunnel with an echo of musical bliss. He slapped his thigh in the same manner as an elderly man would, and his shoulders trembled with the flow of laughter. His gray eyes suddenly seemed a little less dark and turbulent. The smile seemed foreign to his face, yet it fit this slight softness that had eased into his eyes. As his laughter started to curb, he eased forward to lean his elbow on his knee before placing his chin on his closed fist.

"Unnatural?" he asked in jesting but almost accusatory tone. "What about this land makes you think that anything is unnatural?"

Pagan's travels had taught him that nearly anything was possible, an exciting thought that kept him on the move in search of answers. He was little for conversation, but his sharp hearing made it easy for him to pick up news floating around the cities through which he had moved. He had heard amazing tales of unbelievable things, such that her story seemed normal in comparison. He wished she could hear the things that he had heard, for perhaps she would feel less out of place. As this thought crossed his mind, he became aware of the fact that his outburst of laughter had probably made her feel even more isolated.

"You are not the only one with scars, Castigo," he said, his voice still ringing with amusement and his face contorting into his signature half smile. The twinkle of laughter hung in his eyes as they focused on her face. She may have been in the body of a young girl, but she certainly had the eyes of adult.

[Castigo]

Her whole face creased into a wide-eyed frown. She couldn't believe he was laughing at her. After daring to trust in him enough to tell him her most hallowed secret, all he could do was slap his knee. She got so excited that she jumped back onto her feet. He stopped to question her before she had a chance to curse his name. It turned her look of anger into one of irritated bemusement. One thing she definitely inherited from her mother was sporadic emotions.

"OF COURSE IT'S UNNATURAL! How many people just fly about stealing dead bodies and reanimating them? Oops! This one's arms are too long! Oh wait, that other one's leg is missing, I don't know where it's gone to! This one's a man! I don't want to be a man!" she shouted in a horrible imitation of herself, "Even shades, who know what it's like to have a body and lose it, have enough decency to stay dead!"

She had scarcely finished her last sentence before bursting with laughter. Everything she had just said had seemed disgusting and horrendous in her thoughts, but when spoken aloud struck her as the most comical thing in the world. For a minute or two she just stood there with her face in her hands, laughing and laughing and crying. She nodded in response to his assertion, then continued her tear-filled laughter, most of the tears born as the product of released frustration.