MY FIRST AND LAST THOUGHT [SEIJA]

[SURMA]

To say that Surma was agitated would have been as great of an understatement as calling the mountain of an equine-shifter a docile pony. He had awoken when his Mistress did, the lavender-grey of predawn barely illuminating the building as she signaled him both to Stay and Be Silent. A large gust of breath was released through his nostrils in discontent as she drifted away and disappeared into the distance. She did not say where she was going, or how long she would be – and that worried him.

It was not that ordinarily she included him in every minute detail of her life; rather the concern was born from her manner. His Mistress had been tense, distant, and almost … excited. Few would have been capable of discerning this almost imperceptible difference, however not only had Surma made a study of his Mistress – he had exceptional intimacy with a woman that few, if any, had ever been exposed to. For Seija was a very private person.

Now, as the sun rose painting the Carna warehouse in a warm pallet of crimson and pink several members of the Ring had taken notice of the monstrous war horse as they passed by on scout duty or errand running. From the edge of the warehouse the cracked and uneven blacktop had been pulverized by giant, heavy hooves - exposing the dark dirt beneath and creating a trench of sorts where Surma paced back and forth waiting for Seija’s return.

At noon, it was three inches deep. By the afternoon it was a half-foot. Back and forth he went - well into the evening until the sun had set and the crickets had begun to sing. Sweat rolled down Surma’s neck, his tail lashing in irritation as again he turned to start his route for the millionth time. A few of the braver Carna had gathered to watch – taking bets on how long ‘the old man’ would last. The gambles and jeers fell on deft ears. The only change in the shifter’s tireless march was the occasional pause as he watched the horizon, only to dismiss it as phantom and continue his patrol.

Finally. Finally Surma froze. Every part of him concentrated on the distance. Blue eyes narrowed, then widened as his thick, clawed legs skipped from the foot-deep furrow and carried him in a gallop toward the short figure in the distance. As he neared his Mistress, he slowed to a trot and gusted a shot of hot breath into the night. His head tossed in agitation, his ears pinning and his teeth grinding as if chomping a bit. Turning alongside Seija, he sensed an alteration to her usual self and his antics ceased altogether.

Surma’s ears flickered uneasily, his nostrils releasing another, softer breath into Seija’s face worriedly as his large but gentle maw lipped her hair and face. Uncharacteristically, her hand rose to push his nose away. Not with play, nor even in genuine annoyance. It was almost a … plea. Instantly he settled, and followed along like an absurd and loyal dog.

By then, the few that were bored enough to watch Surma pace had left (lest they get caught by the Lead Hunter) and Surma and his Mistress were alone. Into the warehouse to her bunk she sank, then lay down on the bed as if she were so exhausted she’d no other thought in her head - and did not move for a long time.

Surma watched astutely, the only tell to his anxiousness being the troubled flicker of his ears. Eventually he levered himself down to the ground with a grunt, placing his giant head alongside her body. Her hand found the top of his roman nose, petting it absently as he watched her from one eye and did the only thing he could: he waited.

[SEIJA]

To say that Seija had been expecting a day like the one she just had was a laugh, and her mind and body projected the sense of defeat she felt as she trudged back home though the trees. She barely masked her presence, when she came into smelling distance of the Ring's borders, quite a bit out considering as the wind carried the scent of her home, her comfort, into her nostrils. At this point she forced her shoulders back up into their usual poise of strength, her body stiff and sore and screaming protest that she ignored. How stubborn she continued to be even in front of her own family.

Tongue went out to moisten her lips in an absent and yet particular habit, her hands curled into loose fists as she walked, the tremors that shot through the ground towards her that felt like waves only told her of one possibility. Surma... she thought tenderly, and a ghost of a smile twitched at the edges of her mouth before it disappeared easily into her mask of tired annoyance. Why was she so weak? How could this effect her so much that it drained her person as if the life force had been sucked from her body.

She didn't paused as he made himself present beside her, his large presence a slight reminder to the person she just left as she felt a hitch in her breathing and she bite the inside of her mouth hard to stop herself from falling into something of a emotional distress. As she fought the creases of worry and sadness that pulled at her eyes and furrowed her brow, she felt the warm, muzzle brush her face; the small hairs at his lip tickling her skin as she frowned and held in any retort she might've usually said. It was as if her whole body was rejecting this notion of what had just happened, trying to play it off as a dream.

Though she knew quickly in her mind that it was very true, and her hand came up in a sluggish and silent request to refrain from his physical touch at that moment. Everything was automatic after that, her footsteps finding their way to the small alcove in the warehouse she made herself to sleep next to her horse. Her body slumping into the lumpy mattress-like gathering of bedding and blanket as she let her muscles finally relax. At yet ... the tension didn't seem to fade from her slumped shoulders and curled frame.

By the time she realized that she was petting Surma she was sure a good amount of time had passed, her fingers pausing in their slow scritch and pet of his velvet-like nose. She gently laid her open palm on his nose as she continued to face the wall in an attempts to steady herself, trying to place what was going on now that she knew what she did. Kinky's big secret. Why did he lie to her? ... And why the hell hadn't she realized it sooner?

"Maybe love is blind," she said in a low tone, laced with an odd lilt of amused hurt in her voice before a forced bark of a laugh left her lips. "Hell, since I cannot see maybe my mind is effected as well by these stupid emotions I have..," she started and ended at two volumes, beginning in a kind of roar and ending in a muddled murmur. "I don't understand the opposite gender...," she said in the same low tone as she slowly turned her head to face upwards and towards Surma, her eyes having lidded behind their semi-parted veil of hair that lay divided by her nose in the odd backwards position she lay in, her hair splayed out around and behind her.

"I hate him." Pause. "But I hate myself even more."

[SURMA]

The elapse of time that Surma remained still with patient yet rapt attention was a testament to how much he cared for Seija. It could have been minutes or days – it little mattered to Surma and only when she began talking did his large blue eye roll back slowly to watch her as he listened intently.

Her words rolled over him like waves of the ocean over the shore. The sentences meant little to him, but her tone was all he needed to understand her. She hurt, and she was angry. Large nostrils sucked in air – catching the scents her person had collected whilst she was away and checking for physical injury before releasing them once more with a warm and heavy gust that fluttered her hair across her eyes.

Trembling fingers full of emotion continued to stroke and fuss over his nose, and the large horse found it a comfort that at least she was not angry with him. Pushing the thought away his ears flickered as her tone jumped around, weaving through a language that tugged at the parts of his mind that hurt. He knew the words, they were familiar – perhaps something he had once dreamed of, but his mind would not allow a derivative of meaning. It was blocked, and not for the first or last time he wished there was something that would creep through. Especially in moments like this, when she was in pain.

When she finished speaking his heavy head shifted, pressing his cheek against her leg in reassurance before lifting his nose to run his velvet lips across her face again -  pushing her bangs this way and that from her eyes. Suddenly, there was a noise from the entrance of the warehouse and Surma rose without hurry. His manner said that it was not a stranger and knowing that Seija needed space he took it upon himself to herd any who might disturb her away before they had the chance. Sure enough it was two of her Hunters, doubtless wanting to report to her.

The Hunter was not built to fly, he was a canine of some kind – but that did not stop Surma from sending him flying back through the doors without warning. Materializing from the darkness the stallion’s ears pinned to his skull as his high head bobbed and snaked toward the remaining Hunter in warning. His great dragon-like tail writhed and thrashed in irritation as his teeth snapped once with an audible click. For Surma that was a warning. They sent a stream of language in his direction that meant nothing to Surma before they grumbled and wandered away. Satisfied they had gotten the message to stay he hell away he turned to lumber quietly back to his Mistress.

She was not in her bunk. In realization his dome shifted this way and that as his ears and eyes worked to locate her in the dim warehouse. He wanted to rampage through the warehouse and find her this instant but both times he had done so in the past she had been very displeased with him. She was here somewhere … a rumbling nicker escaped through his nostrils more bass than note and a giant hoof lifted to slam the dirt thrice in a combination of anxiety and frustration. Where was she? She would feel the vibrations, hear his quiet call. With her in this state he had no intention of leaving her alone and he would wait a few minutes before thrashing the warehouse regardless.

[SEIJA]

She let her lids close to his hushed affections, knowing her Surma would always care for her ... always be there for her. He pressed against her and then she soon found herself alone, and her sense of touch and smell told her that Carna's had come into the warehouse they knew she resided in. She remembered the odd thought of not sleeping with everyone else but her quick rebuttal was that they usually wanted a guard for each of the storage warehouses anyway - and she had a reason for being there so it was a hitting two birds with one stone type of deal.

As she listened to the beginnings of a small scuffle between her dragon-pony and the two Hunters she slipped away un-noticed into the darkness of the warehouse. She moved among the crates quietly, not really caring where she went but her muscles were restless and her mind swirled with thoughts of hurt and anger. She paused in the doorway that led to a separate warehouse as she felt the tremor that was Surma calling to her, pausing as she frowned a bit. She knew that Surma was more aware than a normal pet, that's why she continued into the second warehouse.

A soft sigh escaped her lips as she went to the back wall, one of the side not sharing a wall with her own abode. She didn't know exactly what she was doing there, but followed her instincts to stand but a few breaths from the cement blockade. Her thoughts swirled of events past, the bodily shock that she had when she found out that Kinky had lied to her and that they could never .. ever be together. The fact that she had risked her neck to be with him time and time again .. had even went against her own hatred of anthros and had slowly warmed to the fact that they were not all bad, but just creatures that were forced to show their inner nature.

Her hand hurt, and she finally pulled out of her thoughts to realize she had fell into a fighting stance and had proceeded to punch the wall. She felt the buckle of the wall and she could only imagine there being a few cracks split throughout it's frame. She paused only to start up again, more consciously this time, as the burning sensation behind her eyes started. One hit after another sent not only tremors through the wall but through her body. Her knuckles began to burn and she even felt the warm sticky liquid that began to trail down one arm. She kept going.

"I hate him!" she seethed quietly through her teeth, although the tone in her voice spoke of more hurt than anger.

[SURMA]

There was no answer, no hint of location for many long moments. Vibrating with irritation and worry, Surma’s great jaws ground and his hoof slammed to the ground so solidly it cracked the floor and echoed throughout the warehouses. The noise bounced off the metal walls an assaulted his ears right back. Why was she hiding from him? With deliberate control, the equine shifter took hold of his patience and settled until he was absolutely still. A long, slow breath escaped from him through his nostrils as his eyes closed and he listened as hard as he could.

The crickets outside were a distraction he pushed aside as he did other ambient familiar noises he recognized unconsciously every night here. No, he was listening for her. Silent as the grave she may be but she was off her game – and that gave him the advantage. It was only a few minutes before …

There! The sound of a muted sigh barely touched his ears and he was off through the buildings without another thought. He was too big, the spaces too small for him to run. A myriad of strange things were housed here, and Surma collected his body as he weaved through most of what he considered garbage to the second warehouse in a ground eating trot. Half of the things he ‘tried to miss’ but much in his path was either trampled or knocked over. A tall metal shelf full of supplied careened precariously as he passed and he wheel to catch it and righten it with his nose. That one would have pissed Seija off badly – she could not abide waste.

Just as he turned the first shock hit, rumbling severely enough that it shook the building itself. Against every instinct any horse had every had Surma was off toward the terrible noise in a shot – his human concern for his Mistress stronger than any fear an animal could muster. The shelf he had saved slammed to the ground in his wake, utterly forgotten.

Rounding a corner and toppling a mountain of crates he slid to a stop the moment he saw her. His adrenaline was pumping, lending the superlative experience one always had of slow motion in dire situations. He saw her back, her long dark hair and the buckling of the wall. A piercing call echoed through the warehouse, a baritone trumpet that Surma had never knew he could generate. Before the echoes ceased he was moving again and between one punch and the next he had reached her.

His teeth snaked out to catch her arm with bruising force and slammed her back against the wall to stop her. Instinctually Surma braced himself; squeezing his eyes shut against the pain he knew would be coming. Sure enough, she yelled and screamed and the abuse the wall had taken was transferred to his head. His plated forehead pinned her body to the wall, but her free arms had arched in to slam bloody knuckles left-right-left-right into the plates alongside his face and jaw. The force was bone jarring, but thoughts of either releasing or tossing her never occurred to him. Instead he pressed just hard enough to keep the short Huntress pinned between him and the wall.

Her words and screaming fell on sensitive ears and he hated to her it, but he ignored it for long moments enduring what she doled out. He remained still, the only telling difference between him and large dragon-like statue being the hot gusting breath through is nostrils and gasping rise and fall of his plated ribs.

[SEIJA]

She wouldn't say that she was hiding from him, her Surma, though she was deliberately making no noise up until the moment her fist connected with the outer wall of an a-joining warehouse. She had a brief thought between her bouts of anger about whether or not she would be the one to fix said wall, but it was quickly washed away with the addicting burning sensation that traveled up her hands and into her arms. She wondered if she could manage to make the whole of her body feel that way if she went long enough; and a brief thought of if the wall or her would last longer also passed and was pushed aside.

She put all her anger, frustrations ... sadness into the blows that slammed into the wall, the tremors reverberating through the building and back up into her body like mini-quakes, her tears ever-flowing down her cheeks. She knew her solitude would not be long lived, and in the back of her mind she heard the commotion that was Surma shoving his way through the warehouse to get to her; she did not react to it.

Another fist connected.

She physically closed her eyes as she let the shock waves run through her, feeling every one of them as she blocked out everything that was around her. Soon enough she felt herself forcibly spun around as teeth came down around her arm, she immediately yelled a command to stop even though she knew it wouldn't be followed. She brought down her other arm to smack against plated cheeks as her feet planted down into the ground, small craters forming around her feet as she pushed to get away from him, but she couldn't move. Her ribs would probably be bruised after this; along with her hands and ego.

She didn't know how long this lasted, her hands hitting the large horses head as each cry slowly began to loose it's intensity before she rested with her arms resting to either side of her, her body practically limp and unwilling to hold itself up. The only thing holding her up was Surma; her Surma. The one who was always there for her and followed her without second thought. She fought the tears that forced themselves out again, her cheeks burning as she lifted her hands to either side of his large nose before wrapping her arms around his face, her head coming to rest against the cool plates of his armor between his eyes.

"Surma...," she breathed out, her lips pressed against him as well so it came out muffled as she stood there. As he pulled back to allow her room away from the wall she felt her grip attempt to tighten as her legs began to fold. The snake-like tail she was so used to was felt as it moved to loosely grip her waist, holding her upright before lifting her to set her on his back. She practically laid across his wide back as soon as she was up there, her arms reaching to rest on either side of his wide neck as she let her eyes close as he began to move back towards their warehouse.

[SURMA]

The contrasting difference between Surma’s outer solidity and the mayhem of worry that racked his inner being was akin to a hurricane in a shoe box. It should not have been possible. It was not the relentless beating his skull received that concerned him; not her angry screams, not even her tears. It was the inconsolable and consuming abandon with which she lashed out, and though he rarely if ever had seen her cry the physical manifestation of the hurt and sorrow she felt would be left imprinted on the building forever. Seija couldn’t hold it together this time, couldn’t keep it in – that was what worried him. It wasn’t to say that a person should, but Seija was a different creature – built differently than the average Joe – or well, Jane - and from the ground up, inside and out, Seija was a warrior.

Over the untold time he had spent with her he had learned neither pain nor fear of death (be it for herself or another) held her. She did not allow fear anywhere near her unless she created it with pleasure and purpose in another. Her very presence banished the shadows away in the light that was her impenetrable confidence and ability to rationalize even in the face of chaos. Basically – she was too removed from everything to get scared of anything.

The impenetrable shield of anger and vengeance that held the huntress together had been tempered and wrought from an impossible bloody past and an even more impossibly bloody present. Internalizing was how she remained sane or at least, Seija-sane. There was nothing in her own life that she could not handle. So what had caused her to crack?

All of this the great beast knew but did not process; felt and needed no explanation. It was like Beetoven’s Symphony 9. He couldn’t physically hear the music – but it danced in his head none the less.

She cried, and beat, and tired herself out for an endless hour and Surma remained with the patience even a Saint would have called him senseless for. His jaws hurt fiercely. The force her beginning blows was something out of a Hercules legend – and only his thick impermeable plating and sheer size had allowed him to take the long assault with minimal damage. The concrete wall would have been gone long ago.

When she stopped, it was as if someone had suddenly replaced the combative little woman with a Seija sized doll – wilting and impassive. He held her against the wall, realizing that her own two feet would not support her if he was to release her. Slowly her arms encompassed his head, her trembling hands barely reaching the curve of his jawline as she rested her forehead against his. Quietly, she whispered his name in a tone that expressed the abundance and complexity of the stars.

Surma’s ears flickered, his breath finally slowing as he relaxed and opened sky-blue eyes. He could not see her – a horse’s eyesight was blind directly in front of and behind them, but he could feel her embrace. After a time he slowly withdrew, and when she did not release him he maneuvered with nimble effort to curl his tail about her and gently steadied, then lifted her.

She needed rest, needed to heal too – she’d sustained far worse injuries in the past, but this went past skin deep. Mostly he wanted to get her out of this part of the warehouse, as if they both might leave the memory behind them if they left quickly enough. In reality, he knew people would come to see what the commotion was about – and he did not care to be there when they did. Cautiously he placed her on his back. She sank until she lay across his topline and carefully, so carefully, he turned and began to pick his way through the warehouses.

He did not go back to their little nitch where they spent most of their nights. Seija needed time alone without interruption, and now Surma quite flatly refused the idea of leaving her even long enough to chase off disturbances. Instead he stopped by the toppled shelf and nosed around the supplies with purpose. Ten minutes later, the quiet night was the only observer as Surma walked through the buildings with easy stealth an animal his size had no business possessing. With his teeth he had tossed a blanket over his back though he managed to cover only half of Seija (who had not moved so much as a muscle), then he snagged the strap of a full canteen of water before heading out.

Surma struck out north-west into the city away from the warehouses, and away from the coastline. He threaded his way through dead cars down the cracked and weed-grown streets, the soul sound being that of the muted clopping of his hooves. It was not long before he pulled to a halt and took a deep breath. He could not smell anyone, and his large head swung to one side as he gazed at a small shop with a broken window for a long time. Judging finally that no one had been there for a very long time, he started in its direction.

Even the sound of breaking glass as his tail rimmed the window frame to clear its sharp edges did not stir his Mistress. Once complete he ducked his head and stepped over the three foot base of the wall into the shop. There was little space between his back and the top of the frame, but so small was Seija that he did not even need to crouch for them to slip beneath it.

The place was a trivial mom ‘n pop shop, and much of the furniture was left where it had been put however many years ago. The window and locked door had miraculously kept all but a few flying vermin or shifters out, and without worry he weaved through the dead furniture to the back wall. Nosing a couch out of his way, his tail lifted to once again curl about Seija and lift her from his back. Her eyes were closed, and he was unsure whether she was sleeping or repressing. Maybe both.

Setting her carefully on the ground he circled her once and with a grunt of effort, lowered his great mass to the cheap thread-bare carpet as his thick legs folded beneath his belly. Setting the canteen to the floor, he collected Seija blanket-and-all between his folded forelegs, heaved a huge sigh, and inspected his Mistress. Her eyes were open now, but she remained very quiet. His anxiety ate at him and he wanted to nudge and fuss over her but instead after a rumbled nicker through his nose and an affectionate touch to the side of her face he simply lowered his nose to the ground, his head propped against a foreleg and left her be - looking for the world like an nonsensically immense Great Dane guarding a petite kitten.

It was a curious balance between his being there for her, and not crowding her. She could do now what she needed to, whether it be sleep, think, cry, or all of them - and she could do so without judgement or disturbance.

[SEIJA]

She did not know how long it took, nor how it the world she was as lucky as she was to come along this horse of hers (in a general sense), but she felt herself be moved with only the utmost care; the gentle loll of the earth under Surmas large hooves like a steady pendulum that soothed the hackles of her mind and left her passive and uncaring of the world around her. The war-horse could have thrown, stomped, or any such violent act to the small bundle of limbs as she would've not reacted in kind. She was exhausted in body and mind, and only aware just enough of everything around them.

A vague flag of awareness went up as she lost scent of the salted air that told one of their close proximity to Carnas inner lands, but this did not stir her like it would've done normally. Just one of the many obvious signs she was not, in fact, herself.

She had let her eyes slip closed, even though she could still "see" in this instance, and half-heartedly cursed at herself for such powers ... but an even deeper voice, in the recess of her mind, prided her for being able to maintain such a feat as mentally drained as she was. Urging her that this was the reason she came into power as she had.

Calm. Unmoving.

This was the next sensation she had, almost suddenly as she let her eyes slip open. Maybe she had actually blacked out for a short time? Or maybe the want of not caring won for but a moment of darkness and bliss? If only she would be able to do this whenever she wanted to.

Wet. Burning. Anger.

She could feel the tears force themselves from her already strained eyes, eyes she knew were pinkened by the excess of emotions that fell from them. She hated them. But ... the more she hated them .. the more they took control of her and continued anyway. The only way to make them stop is to empty them. Empty them so she would never have to deal with them again. If not for a long long time.

She would not allow it. Allow these weak emotions to control her again. And again ... and again.

She leaned into Surmas front and rested her head against the plates that covered him, the plates that reverberated slightly with both breath and beating of his heart. She smiled. Smiled as she lifted her hand to rest against the spot next to her face and in that moment let out the tension that made her body rigid, sinking into the only comfort she seemed to have now.

"Surma...," she breathed out once more, the only thing that seemed to be on her mind or on her lips, her breathing slowly leveling out as she slid back more and more. Slumping onto the base of one foreleg as she curled into the crook of his front and stilled, her steady breathing signaling her fight that was lost with the conscious world.

[SURMA]

END THREAD