rak'yat

izzeibean asked:

My phone won't let me make the cross symbol... but here, have one imvolving Rak'yat C:

((First of all you’re evil considering what’s ICly going on right now and second <3))

“Ow’s mah girleh doin?” Her voice was harsh and dry despite the fact it was filling with blood. It was dribbling out of her mouth, running down her cheek and ear as she struggled to breathe and did nothing more than push more of the red life blood out of her already struggling body. Her grip on him was tenuous at best, her fingers gripping at the mail links of his tunic as if though trying to grab on to something more, something sturdier, but her dying body could not, would not, obey.

“She’s.." Doing bad. She cries all the time. She hardly eats. She hardly sleeps. She blames her Loa, she blames herself. She misses you, she loves you, and this will kill her. "Good." 

She made a sound that might have been a laugh but turned into a cough, more blood bubbling and sliding out of her mouth to join the small but growing pool beneath her. “Ya lyin’…ah knew ya was a bad liah, moon boy…but ah know ya takin’ care’a ‘er. Ah know ya are..ya…” Her eyes fluttered, the copper color of her skin growing paler with each word she spoke. The light was slowly leaving her eyes as her blood was leaving her body. “She…gon…kill me fah dis..” Again her fingers scrabbled at his mail, the nails scratching lightly against the metal links. But her grip was weaker this time, her breathing heavy and labored. “Ya…call’er..fah…me?”

"Of course.” It had been the second thing he had done after he found Rak’yat, her body leaning against the stone pillars that led up to the gates. At the time, calling Otieno come out and discover her dying lover had been the last thing on his mind. Off the gauntlets had come, his hands scurrying over her torn and shredded clothing to get to the arrow that had pierced her. He did not need to ask where it had come from…he had a feeling he already knew.

‘Rak'yat, stay still’. He remembered saying that, his voice attempting to remain steady as he accessed her. He had pulled her tunic aside, all modesty forgotten as he searched for the entrance wound. It had been difficult- her back and front had been so thoroughly coated in blood, and he didn’t know if it was her blood or not, that finding it had taken longer than he would have like. It was a hollow feeling when he realized that it had punctured her lungs, the long wooden shaft of the arrow piercing through her ribs, the shaft all having been broken off to leave the arrow head firmly planted in her body. He knew he couldn’t pull it out, and a wound like this…

And then she had grabbed his hand in typical Sandfury fashion. ‘Et don’ ‘urt,’ she had said, and the blood had slid down her lips to join the mire that stained her clothing.

And now it had come to this, the Sandfury in his arms as she lay dying in them, her eyes, the light leaving them, staring up at the sun that burned overhead. Behind him could hear Otieno’s screams and cries, Rak’yat’s name leaving her lips as she rushed over to her dying lover.

Rak’yat!” It was hard for her to speak or breathe; the sobs come out of her body in racking waves and the tears that spilled from her eyes blinded the hydromancer, rolling down her cheeks to drop upon Rak’yats, grief joining the blood. “No, no…oh Loa no..mah heart…" And Otieno’s hand brushed over the woman who was before her, leaving streaks through gore and grime. She looked up at the Shaman, her face a mask of pain and rage. “-HEAL- her!”

"Otieno….I don’t think I c-”

“HEAL HER! And now her voice was a torrent of rage that broke over him. 

“Mah girleh…” And now it was Rak’yat’s voice again, soft, struggling. “Ya know ‘e can’…” Tears were in her eyes as she looked up at Otieno, a smile, small and strained on her face. “Ya know ‘e can’…” She made no struggle as her hand was lifted to Otieno’s face, the woman above her sobbing. “Ya sah loveleh, mah ‘eart…sah loveleh..”

He couldn’t listen after that. He sat Rak’yat in Otieno’s arms before he stood and moved away. He felt indecent, a stranger to the grief and death that took place behind him. He wanted to not listen but he couldn’t help but to listen; Otieno’s sobs and pleas, Rak’yat’s dying breaths…

And then it was over, and Otieno’s scream pushed through the sky, straight through the air..straight through him.

He looked down at his blood soaked hands and his blood coated armor, and he realized he was shaking, and in his heart he knew that Otieno would never be able to forgive him, for now she had lost Rak’yat twice to a man- the one who had shot her with an arrow and the one that had killed her by leaving it.

“I’ve been settling scores

I’ve been fighting so long

But I’ve lost your war

And our kingdom is gone

How shall I win back

Your heart which was mine

I have broken bones and tattered clothes

I’ve run out of time

I’ll run, I’ll run, I’ll run, run to you

I’ll run, I’ll run, I’ll run, run to you”

The Letter from Home

It took several days, but finally, the letter from Rak'yat arrived. Oti'eno hadn’t expected one, and certainly not this soon. The paper smelled like a mix of oil, blood, and dirt… not too far off from the scents of Zul'Farrak, yet no sentimental memories came to greet her. She scowled instead.

A part of her debated throwing the letter away out of spite. She was a fickle woman, and while she cared deeply for Rak'yat, she was still hurting. A part of her wanted to snap back, to cause Rak the pain the other woman had given her… but she refrained. Giving a soft sigh, Oti'eno opened the parchment, reading over the words carefully. It was some comfort, and in every letter she heard her love’s intonation.

But it didn’t bring her back.

She was still out there, still likely wandering the sands for a man known for his cruelty and brutality. Oti still couldn’t bring herself to forgive Rak'yat for that. For putting herself so willingly and so stupidly into harm’s way, a fight she had almost no chance of winning.

The hydromancer folded the letter back up, tucking it into the belt of her kilt as she wandered into the city, back to her stone perch above the waterfall.

She wouldn’t write the woman back. She couldn’t. She hurt too much, the storm inside her was still raging, and she knew not when it would begin to quell.

Drabble Prompt - Kill Me, norainallowed

The rain poured from the heavens, soaking the jungle below. Clouds hung and darkened the sky, flashes of lightning breaking that illumination every so often.

Off on the other side of the city, a warhorn blew. The hunt was on.

Zen'gru had been released from her binds within Bethekk’s. Under Ocnar’s orders, a clanwide manhunt had been put into effect. Nobody had been given details as to what Zen'gru had done to earn the extermination, but all were just as thirsty for her blood. Here and there, hollars could be heard over the rain and thunder. Voices whooped and called over the skull as they chased the druid towards the gates. It was there, that Rak'yat sat and waited. Perched up high in a tree, the Sandfury notched an arrow and waited. Hawk-eyes were trained on the path leading up towards the stairs. It was the only way out of the city.

It wasn’t long before the hunter saw movement. Up the path from the waterfall, a form hurried on. That tell-tale mess of hair was her indication. Pulling the arrow back in the string, Rak'yat drew in a breath. She took aim. She trained…. And she loosed. Zen'gru hardly knew what was coming, until the arrow had bit into her ribs.

It was here that Rak'yat stuck true to her blood-thirsty roots. She got some sick sense of satisfaction at the howl of pain that tore over the thunder. Another arrow was pulled from the quiver at her hip and fired on the stumbling woman. This one clipped her shoulder, sending a brief spray of red through the air.

The clan had no idea where she had gotten to. So Rak'yat sought out her fun. Dropping from her perch, the woman ripped a dagger from her hip. Her bow was slung back over her shoulder as Hi'baba and Te'te burst from the bush beneath. They had been sitting and waiting for their two-leg to land. Both hyenas were snarling, slobbering, violent masses. Hackles raised and tails stood erect.

Zen'gru’s head lifted, eyes widened in horror. She thought she would make it out in one piece. She thought she had escaped!

“N-no! Please! Don’t hurt me, please! You have this all wrong, I didn’t d-” She was cut off by a sharp bark from the Sandfury.

“Don’t give a damn what you did, or did not do. My orders were to kill you. And that’s what I’m going to do.”

Dread filled the druid’s heart. It started as a chill that developed to a sheet of ice, the longer she stared at Rak'yat’s wicked, upturned smile. The Sandfury was out to blood. There was no swaying her opinion or intention. So Zen'gru reacted, trying to defend herself. She lashed out, a bolt of moonfire ripping from her palm. Her aim and judgement was off, and the offensive gesture simply soared right past Rak'yat.

“Oooh. Got a little fight left, huh?” The Sandfury sneered and purred. “Good.” Just like that, she rushed Zen'gru, their bodies colliding and tumbling to the ground once more. The arrow in her shoulder was ripped free, alongside the one in her lungs. They were a flurry of movement and desperation as they rolled down the hill. When they stopped, Rak'yat was sitting atop Zen'gru, the arrows raised high. A short shriek tried to out-volume the roar of triumph as the projectiles were plunged back into the druid’s chest. Flesh gave way and her sternum cracked in half, leaving her breathless as she screamed. The pain was agonizing. Topping that with her right lung rapidly filling with blood, she was frantic.

Rak'yat had wasted no time in executing the termination, though. She could hear her clanmates gaining ground on her, calling over the skull. This kill was hers. She wouldn’t share. The dagger she still had in hand was lifted. Grabbing Zen’s hair, she tilted the woman’s head back.

“Ssssh, sssshhh… You’re bound for the spirits, girly. But I won’t promise it’ll be painless.” The Sandfury spoke with a sickly sweet tone. Every word oozed venom and malice. Zen'gru struggled, Rak'yat would admit that later in retells of the story. She struggled and squirmed and garbled out to her assailant. But Rak'yat didn’t stop. Pressing the curved part of the blade to Zen'gru’s neck, she applied pressure and slowly dragged it across in a line. The sadistic woman didn’t even flinch as Zen'gru’s heart pumped sprays of blood all over her. All Rak'yat did was lick her lips.

True to her heritage, Rak'yat reveled in the death.

I found the unfinished body of this amongst my mass of papers. I didn’t remember drawing it (because it was mixed up in a pile of papes that included some sketches and doodles a friend of mine from long ago did) so I…. added onto it and made it Rak'yat. >3>

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theletter27 asked:

Otieno dreams of days gone by, good and bad, that upon awakening make her realize how much better she has it at present.

The harsh sands, the unforgiving citizens. The brutal reality of life and death, where middle ground was nonexistent, and survival hardly an option.

The look of malice in her mate’s eyes, the gaze that slowly turned to disgust and hatred, treating her like an animal that simply could not be broken. The growing fear in her stomach as a child grew inside, a child she had never consented to having.

The joy she felt finding Rak'yat. The safety and comfort in her arms, the warmth of her fire, those were the wonderful moments of peace.

And then came the sickening smack of her mate’s hand striking her face, not for the first time. She’d lost count. He’d found them out, she and her lover. Even in her sleep, Oti'eno winced as she felt the rope burns around her wrists, the pain in her gut and all over her body. When she ran, she barely noticed the trail of blood she left behind, and only the following morning, well out of the city and into the sands, did she notice the stillness in her womb.

To wake up with those memories reminded her how easy it was in Stranglethorn now, to live in seclusion, away from her old life.. to live in a place where those around her would protect her, rather than harm her. She had few friends, but as her fingers lingered over the necklace one of them had given her, she squeezed the pendant securely.

Yes, here she was safe. And safe was all she could hope for.

Oh what a long trip it had been. She’d lost count of the days, weeks, months.. surely it hadn’t been a year. She was sure of that much, but the turn of the world seemed beyond her measuring when she left the sands of Tanaris behind her.

And there was one woman on her mind all the while. She hadn’t seen her in so long, it felt. Those bright blue eyes, that warm golden skin, the crimson of her dread-hawk. She missed her more than words could say, and her existence was half the reason for this journey.

Rak'yat.

While she never quite knew what the two of them were, to her it didn’t really matter. She was happy with her regardless, and she’d always felt at home by her side. So when the two again crossed paths at the base of Zul'Gurub’s path, and she was scooped up and carted by her little spark?

It was like coming home all over again. The rain had been a sign from Kimbul, but Rak’s presence proved it all beyond a doubt:

This was where she was meant to be.