Date: January 14, 1999
Place: Varati Camp - Somewhere in the Empyre
Cast: Khalid (I/III), Kiera
Scene: Khalid tells Kiera a tale of Vinita, a dark Empyrean who once fought with the Varati, centuries ago. Then, they discuss more down-to-earth matters -- namely, the possibility of Kiera's taking a mate.

Varati Camp - Somewhere in the Empyre:
      After the fashion of many a war-camp, this one -- the imperial one -- somehow fashions an organized and effective army out of hopeless, frantic clutter and activity. The Varati host is here hosted, and tents spread legion across the rolling prairie -- now trampled into hard-packed mud. The tents themselves are surrounded by cookstoves and chairs, armor boxes and racks upon which clothes dry and repaired or cleaned items are stored. Women and men both hurry through the clutter, each to his own vital task. The air is warmer here, thick with fire smoke and the fouler odors of many people in close inhabitation with inadequate sewage and washing facilities. To the south is located the tent-hospital, to the north, the Amir-al's encampment. West are the wyvern pens, and east, the corrals for the lesser creatures that serve as food for men and mount.

Today is one of those deceptive, deceitful days that has dawned brightest blue sky, bitterly cold, with an evil breeze that races across frozen ponds and frigid ground, dropping a few more degrees with its passage, and then it brought snow. Snow and snow and more snow and snow, and though it, too, is beautiful, it, too, is wretchedly cold. Most of the camp has taken a long morning, and they've ventured out -- those who don't have heat-magic -- only to see to the absolute necessities. The rest, and any who can find an excuse for it, take shelter within tents, or at worst, under tarps pulled tight by ropes.

Likely someone finally, politely, drew to your attention the fact that your.... That Kiera... Uh, Kiera Khalida... Had refused to take shelter, had declared the tents available for this, inadequate, dangerous and likely lethal, and now she stood under the one lone tarp that some Agni-Haidar finally erected near a fire, to keep her out of the worst of the storm. They did this not out of love for the halfbreed, but out of devotion to you, their master. And Kiera huddles under the tarp, misery seeping through her usual neutral mask, while the heat from the fire melts the snow and ice on the tarp, so it drips wet upon her. Wet birds are pathetic. Wet, cold Kiera, seeming an isolated island within the sea of Varati, is profoundly pathetic.

Having spent the better part of the morning grooming and tending to the needs of that very greedy wyvern queen, Khalid finally begins to make his way towards where he has been told you are staying. Not a surprise, he seems untouched or unbothered by the cold and appears as majestic as ever, despite the weather or conditions. Approaching you at a steady pace, a faint, almost amused smile graces his lips as he notes your expression and state of being.

Miserable. The halfbreed stands, wings wet and quivering, eyes hooded so much that she does not see you, nor sees the gestures of obsequience made at your coming, at your arrival. Kiera is just busy wallowing in her private sea of unhappiness, coldness, and not-even-gods-only-know what goes on in her mind. Her breeze is just barely there, wispy, and only making the coiling smoke dance slightly.

Shaking his head in faint amusement, Khalid raises his right hand, so that his palm is focused in your direction. Immediately, those cold, terrible winds are fought off and warmth begins to surround you, comfort you. With his left hand, he gestures for the others to rise and move away. "Ah, my little hawk, I see you are dreaming of warmer climes, no? Hawks aren't mean for such weather, are they?" Blue eyes are ablaze with but humor and genuine affection. Black wings flutter a couple of times, so as to stretch those limbs that have not been exercised this day.

The warmth nearly relaxes Kiera to the point of sleep, a state which your voice yanks her back out of. Her eyes snap open and she shifts to face you fully, registering surprise. But she answers your words, mind being keen enough to recall them: "No, hawks do not live in this kind of cold. They fly away, somewhere warm. My type of hawk -- the hawk I am, and that my mother was -- is a desert hawk. Never, does it see weather like this." Warmth! Kiera's shoulders relax visibly, and her wings even sag from their upright, stiff and fluffed position. She draws in a breath and shakes her head, glancing at the sky and an unseen moon she can feel in her veins. "I will shift soon. The hawk may leave, if I do not shift back immediately, when it is day again." Kiera's words are vague, worried, and she looks again at you, remembers to bow her head, pull her wings back up and around her.

Making a simple gesture to ward off the bow, Khalid murmurs, "That is fine, Kiera." He approaches you until he is within a few feet. Full, red lips twist into a thoughtful repose as he states, "You may share my tent, if you wish, if the others are not satisfactory for you? I believe it should be large enough for the pair of us." How different he is with you, in private. He is still the God-King, no doubt, for there is a tangible presence and sheer power associated to his being, yet he is much kinder and casual. "Explain the other? What do you mean?"

Though she pauses now before she answers, Kiera nods, "Thank you. The 'tent,'" Kiera neither likes the concept nor the word, "May fall, if too many people are within. If it fell, likely it would break my wings, for I could not move them under the weight of the... cloth." She's hopelessly claustrophobic, is Kiera, but she does make concessions for winter, having finally taken a room in Atesh-Gah, though she drives her fellow hallmates crazy, often, by insisting upon sleeping while standing in the hall, near the open door to the balcony. She'd requested a room with a window she could get through. She got a room with a view, but a small exit. "But if you think it will not fall, maybe I will go in there. Nights." Kiera swallows, looks up at you again. Her pupils have narrowed to dots within dark hazel eyes, and she draws a breath, to try to explain, again. "The moon will be full soon, Khalid-Atar. When it is, I must shift. If I am like this," she gestures to herself, "during the day, then I can wait until night, before I shift. But once I am hawk, I do not remember what I know now. I do not remember if it is important to shift back, come dawn, and stay with the army, instead of fly away to where it is warmer." This has been something that has been on Kiera's mind, and she's not seen Dawn, with whom she might discuss this.

"The tent will be safe," promises Khalid with a tender smile. His right hand comes up to stroke that short, cropped brown hair, like a father would his own daughter. With pride for what his child has become. "And if it falls, I will be very angry with it," he promises, his tone becoming faintly jesting. "But be assured, I will protect you. As I have always done, since I have known you, little hawk." For a few moments, he considers your other statements, then slowly nods, "This is of concern, yes. The army does not move yet. I may wait with you, as you change, then keep you company? How have you handled this problem in the past?"

The change is soon upon Kiera, and she reacts to your touch as a hawk might, dipping her head forward so that your fingers might reach the back of her head. Thus, does she speak, "I have never been in the terrible cold like this, before, except in Atesh-Gah, and it is warmer there than the rest of Haven, or the woods, so I would stay, as a hawk." She pauses, then reels off the rest of the worry. "The hawk... does not know enemy from friend, and if I left, to go where it is warmer, I might well shift in the middle of the Empyreal army. I recognize those I have seen before, but do not remember, from one form to the other, if they treated me well or not." That means she might well cozy up to Cassius. An ugly thought, even for the brave of heart. Kiera tilts her head so she can one-eye you, "I have allowed Teacher and Minowee both, and I think Timin, to handle me when I was a hawk. Teacher had to get me within the city. She wrapped me, then took me somewhere. I do not remember." Kiera shifts her head again, letting your fingers brush across her temple, "If one of the women were here, that I know," and trust, "Then you could put jesses on the hawk. Have them hold her. Me." Kiera is a large hawk, though, recall. Not light-weight.

"Mm. I see. You will allow me to do this?" queries Khalid. His fingers continue to gently stroke your hair, before wandering over to the nape of your neck. "If you feel uncomfortable with that idea, the Teacher will be joining us soon, in any case." He seems accommodating, all in all, this day. "I will watch over you, regardless. I will not allow you to fall into the hands of our enemy." His words are spoken as if they were a promise, quiet and firm. His black wings stretch again, as if longing for flight, despite the foul weather.

Even Kiera, who lives to fly, does not want to go into the air right now. She shifts her wings, however, in response to yours, then settles them mindfully back 'at ease.' "I would let you do this. You would not harm me. Or, if you would harm me, you would tell me why, and I would not understand, as a hawk." Kiera's clinical assessment of the situation is typically quiet. "If she does not come, then I would prefer you do this, instead of one of the Others." The others, that horde of nameless Varati who try their best to ignore Kiera's existence while she tries her best to ignore theirs. "When will the Teacher be here?" Kiera is quite devoted, in her own strange way, to Dawn. Only you and Dawn have been forgiven for your absences from Kiera's life. Others have not been, are not.

"I set her to a task, much like your own, but it will take more time and is slightly more difficult. She should be finished now and on her way." Khalid allows his hand to wander once more, back to your temple, so as to stroke a lock of hair from your forehead. "I miss her, too. She is a comfort to me. And one of those few I have come to truly trust in these last years." Blue eyes flicker towards your own hazel-brown ones as he questions, "How have these last two years been for you, little hawk? I know much has happened since I first met you." He allows himself a throaty chuckle as he recalls the event, "And almost sent you back to my father in rage. You were a willful child, then. You still are, I think. But you have grown. In body. In mind. In spirit and strength."

Kiera remembers the blue fire, and she draws away before she can help herself. That's her other terror. Fire. Kiera looks fully at you a moment, then half-lids her eyes, considering. "Lonely. But it is a different sort of loneliness than before, when I was with my mother's tribe. There, I was The Halfbreed. Here, I am Different. It is not so ... Personal. So much that it was me, that was hated, in Atesh-Gah, but just that I was not Varati. The Sylvans hated me for what my mother and father did." Kiera is silent then, and she unfocuses for a long few moments, before she draws breath again, "I wish to take a mate, sometime, Khalid-Atar. The Sylvans do this differently from the Varati." That's as far as Kiera gets. This is a difficult position for a halfbreed in her particular situation.

Allowing you to draw away without protest, Khalid drops his hand to his side. It rests on the second sash, the newer one, a woman's sash which is tucked into his royal blue one. Considering your words for a long time, he says quietly, "I am sorry. I have made it as easy as I could for you. It takes some time for my people to understand and accept your differences. Though we have had legendary heroes that were not Varati among our people, they were few and it has been a long time since one has been seen among my own. The tale of Vinita is not forgotten, nor is her sacrifice, but she died several centuries ago. Many do not think another like her will appear. And no half-breed has served as you have, faithfully, for the kingdom. Do not fault them their prejudices; they are good people. They will learn in time." Again he lapses at your last statement, before inquiring, "Do you have someone in particular in mind? I had... hoped that you would marry one of my race. Mix your own blood with that of a Varati. Not all take many wives. I know you would never tolerate such a thing."

Kiera doesn't now who Vinita is. She'll have to ask someone. Teacher, maybe. Kiera files that away, mentally. That breeze that is Kiera's has whisked up, unconscious tribute to her private consternation at broaching this subject. Your question is almost expected, but not the comment afterwards. Kiera looks fully at you, then tilts her head away, as if a one-eyed view might bring what you said into better clarity. "No. Before you had... made me part of Clan Khalida... When you were gone, there was one I was interested in. But I have been angry with him. Did not take him as a mate. He wishes this, now. Now I do not, because I am angry, still." Let's move on to that next notion. "I am a halfbreed, Khalid-Atar." Kiera lets that statement stand, as if you should absolutely know what that means. This is her answer to your last few statements.

"I understand, Kiera. This does not change my wish. Give my people a chance, as some would give you. Not at all feel so poorly about you as you may think. Some have come to accept both you and Allegra. Some understand that you are dear to me and that there must be a reason for such a thing. And some, some few perhaps, even understand you for your own worth. Like I do. Like the Teacher does." Khalid speaks in firm tones, though his voice has yet to raise in intensity. It rarely does. There is rarely a need. "Shall I tell you of Vinita?"

You cannot so easily brush off twenty-some years of teaching. Can you? You can. You just did. Kiera cannot. She twitches, a basal shiver running through her, and she loses a few small feathers, as they curl off her wings and are swept away to dance like mahogany shadows to the falling snow. "I am a halfbreed, Khalid-Atar. I may not lay with a pure-breed." The children will be halfbreed, or mongrel, depending on your point of view, and that is only perpetuating the sin, the sentence, under which Kiera was raised. Vinita who? Was she a... No, you said she wasn't.

"All is possible in this world, Kiera. Remember this. Who would have thought a union between an Empyrean and a Varati was possible? But it has happened in the past. Vinita..." Khalid's lips curve slightly, as if considering troubled or sad memories. "When first I met Vinita, she was but twelve years old. If that. Her wings were dark, almost as black as mine, as was her hair. She was an Empyreal child. An outcast. More than an outcast." Once more, his hand slides up from his sash towards your hair and he begins to gently stroke at the short tresses.

This time Kiera trembles under your touch. Or perhaps she was still trembling when you touched her, from the impact of your words. Those eyes, often so sharp of focus, are glazed, seeming shocked, and she holds herself as still as she can, listening, thinking. The idea of a purebreed and Kiera... can hardly gain purchase in a mind worn long ago into a rut of 'only your own kind.' And those, few.

"Torn and tattered, beaten and abused, she was brought to me by my Agni-Haidar. In chains and bindings, they marched her into my throne room. They had only planned to throw her into a cell, perhaps, but she had such strength of will. Even then. And begged and pleaded them for but eight words with me. And that if I was not satisfied, they could kill her then." Khalid's fiery blue eyes do not leave your face as he recites this tale. His every word is lost in a private memory of his own eternal past. "They consulted with an Iman and he agreed. She had such spirit that even a candala should be shown some respect. And so she came before me, kneeled at my throne and spoke, 'I will serve you with all my life.'"

Still quiet, and still, Kiera listens. She can understand only too well the sort of fury that likely drove that woman-child to you.

"And so I told her to tell me her tale." Khalid's brows furrow and there is genuine sadness in his voice as he speaks further, "She was dark, like almost all of her family. They were not nobles, but rather a family skilled in the training of griffins. She had already become quite adept at that young age and come to bond with those animals." Black wings stretch again, yearning for some exercise. "At that time, the Empyre was gripped with such prejudice that it would seem today's Empyre be a fair and just society in comparison. The 'darklings,' especially, were reviled. Perhaps because of me."

Slowly, Kiera's eyes refocus, as your words, this tale, pull her away from her own roiling thoughts. She glances at your wings, then sidelines a quick look at her own, patchwork ones, then turns her full attention back to you, your face. Kiera rarely blinks, and she does not now.

"One night, on the orders of the Aegis, a cadre of the Praetorian Guard came upon her family home. And on that fateful night, they slaughtered her entire family. Even those who were not 'dark,' though most were. They were a blight on the Empyre and had to be destroyed." Khalid speaks with such anger, such fury as he recalls these events. "She was the only one to escape."

And this certainly does not endear Empyreans any more to Kiera, either. They take Dawn's wings, they jilt her own mother, and they slaughter their own, due to their color. She is too caught up in her own mind's rendition of the tale to react to your emotion.

"She had nowhere to go. No one to turn to. So she said, 'if I shall die, I shall die at the hands of my people's enemies. I will not give my own kind the satisfaction of killing me.' Already, she was so old, even in her youth. So grim." Khalid's fierce, melancholic blue eyes close as he speaks, "She had such strength and I admired it in one so young. And so I said to her: You shall not die, Sophia, whom I now name Vinita. You shall be grow and be strong. And you will avenge your family." He smiles faintly as he continues, "And she said to me, 'I will kill Empyreans until those black wings of mine they hate so much turn red with the color of their blood.'"

This, too, is a notion that speaks to Kiera's heart. She smiles, slightly, pulling her lips back from her teeth in unconscious show of her canines. Kiera described the same sort of fantasy to the Teacher who, in her wise and worldly way, tried to dissuade Kiera. But Kiera, too, is young, vengeful.

"So I took her in and I trained her myself. For nearly two decades, I trained her like no other could train her. She wore two blades, of steel, like my own black, divine blades. And I took her into my Clan. And made her one of the 'Dai.'" Khalid pauses, then says aside, "I shall explain the 'Dai' to you another time." Pressing on with his story, he speaks, "During this time, she achieved such great skill and prowess. None save the Nayaka of the Agni-Haidar or I could best her in combat. Three times did she stop an assassin's blade that was aimed for me. Twelve times did she survive assassins who would have taken her own life."

Kiera had heard that Empyreal women could fight. She cannot. Her mother's tribe feared her enough, without her magic, without ever allowing her to take a weapon other than a net. Kiera barely knows which end of a dagger is business end. She studies you, as if she can see the story unfold in your gaze.

"She was like a black death upon her enemies. Yet, death was not all she dealt in. For their was a yearning in her for more. And in time, she grew to love my Nayaka. The Nayaka of the Agni-Haidar. They were kindred spirits in many ways. Orphan children of the soul. And so when they asked me permission to allow them to mate, I granted it. They chose to keep this secret, however, and few know this fact. Even now." Khalid nods to himself, as his fingers comb out the knots in your hair. "She grew to love my people for what they were. She grew to love the Varati culture and its way, alien as they were to her initially. And they grew to love her, too."

You... let... them? "Were there children?" Kiera finally asks, in her quiet, airy voice. Again, the hawk which will soon rise to the surface pulls her head forward to let your fingers find the back of her neck. The few feathers interspersed in her hair there, fluff. Kiera's trembling has stopped and her wings speak that she is no longer frantic, fighting panic, in their quiet stance.

"No. There were none. I think Vinita might have been barren." Khalid throws back his head, so as to catch a cool breeze. Blue eyes, shaded and deep, close yet again as he loses himself in the memories of the past. "She was a gentle soul, with the Varati. And even her hate had begun to diminish. But the Empyre would not relent. I... I will not speak now of what caused the final war that brought upon the Reign of Fire." His voice is thick with emotion as he speaks, "Vinita led the assault on Civitas Dei, herself. At my side, she fought along with the Nayaka. Her Nayaka." He smiles again, a faint smile that alleviates the sadness for a moment. "And Praetorians fell under her blades. None could stop her fury. She was a whirlwind of justice and revenge. And when she met the Pontifex of the Praetorian army, she knew him, for he had been the Praetor who had led the slaughter against her family nearly two decades prior."

Some days, Kiera doesn't pay as strict attention to her winds as she might. These words call to her, find an answer in her soul, and sharp, stiff winds cast about outside the tent's perimeter, washing snow across the nearby huddled tents, the boxes and trappings, the flames that hold the cold air at bay. Kiera is rapt, listening.

Khalid also is lost in this story, and so he does not pay attention to your powers. "She met him, with her bare hands. She had lost her blades in a battle with another Praetor she had slain. Such fury and wrath, I have never seen in all my life. I have destroyed cities and decimated armies, but her wrath was a purer one. Divine in its own way; the justice of Ashur Masad and Ushas." His own voice is thick with passion as he speaks, "And that day, when she met the Pontifex, she could not be killed. Not until she had slain him, herself. Though he stabbed at her body with his blades, she would not fall. And she tore at him, at his wings, at his throat, at his heart, with her bare hands. And he fell, for he was but mortal and she was holy vengeance made flesh and blood. Death claimed them both, but not until she had won. As she saw the light leave his eyes, she smiled a final, sad smile at me from across the battlefield and collapsed in her own eternal sleep, to meet my father."

"What of her mate?" Kiera asks, only now becoming aware of her magic, because she can scarce hear her own words. The winds cease abruptly, their sudden absence nearly causing as much trouble as their previous presence. Only a teasing, whirling breeze remains in the wind's wake, and the snowflakes no longer hurtle across the encampment, the flames no longer lay low among their timbers.

"He mourned her death and never took a wife again. We won Civitas Dei and it began the Reign of Fire. Because of Vinita. Because she led the assault on Civitas Dei with griffins she captured for us. A darkling Empyrean." Khalid's hand drops to your shoulder, squeezing once as he speaks, "Never again would my Nayaka take a wife. Her body was burned and her ashes are entombed in a holy place within my palace. Many visit it to pay homage. There is even a small cult devoted to her and I allow it, for she deserves such respect. Even... even some few Empyrean women and darklings respect her for her bravery and loyalty. And her martial prowess."

Kiera remains silent for a considerable time, then nods. "I would like to see that. The ashes. But it is inside. Maybe someday, if the Teacher comes with me. I cannot see that the Teacher would approve of this woman, this Vinita, very much, though." Kiera reaches to touch your arm with her fingers, those odd-clawed fingernails brushing your skin lightly. "If I had children, with a Varati male, they would be mongrel. But would they be Varati as I am Varati? Not shudra, not slaves?" Actually, with anyone, would this be true?

"I think the Teacher understands Vinita. The Teacher and Vinita are not so different in some ways. Vinita, like the Teacher, put aside her hate in the end. She began to love and to care and to desire life. But she had a duty and it brought her to war again. Much like the Teacher fights with me now. And vengeance must be answered for what had been done to her family. To all she loved. This is not the same with the Teacher, yet the Teacher understands such concepts. No, I do not think the Teacher would disapprove of Vinita so much. She would understand her, perhaps. And I would like to take you to see the tomb. Every day I remember Vinita, for I loved her, too. Like a daughter." Khalid's mouth works itself into a small smile as he gazes down upon you. "They would be of Clan Khalida. Of the kshatri caste."

The halfbreed nods, absorbing this in her habitual silence, then draws another breath, asks, "You cannot read minds, can you, Khalid-Atar?" There is, as always, a reason Kiera asks things. Kiera's fingers remain on your arm, light, as if they might fall off at a moment's notice. She's much more at ease with you these days, than she ever was before. It's a vast improvement over 'nervous wreck,' but still not all that marvelous.

"No. Not in the way of telepathic magic, if that is what you mean. I see the threads of the universe and understand things like no mortal could, but I cannot pry into your thoughts, little hawk," responds Khalid. He arches a slender black eyebrow at you, trying to discern the reason for the question.

You've seen Kiera smile a few times, and this example of her smile is quite wicked, if brief. "This one who I am mad at... I have told him that I am of your clan now, and that you read minds." Just in case he wasn't worried enough about you. Beware the scorned woman. "I do not think he can read minds either, or he would have known that I thought I was probably lying." It's funny, to Kiera. She has a very good idea of just how terrified a potential suitor of her might be, given she wears your mark, now. Then, abruptly, Kiera is sober again. "I may seek a mate, soon. I may not. If I do, then... I ask your permission?" What's the protocol here?

At this point, both black eyebrows raise in question. Khalid's lips cut an amused, though almost chiding smile. "I see. You are a little troublemaker, aren't you?" He breaks into something nearing a full grin, before he leans forward to plant a kiss on your forehead. "Any who wish to court you must gain my permission. You are my Clanmate. A daughter to my heart, Kiera, my little hawk. I would not see you wed to someone not deserving of you."

Given that she's used to sidling around rules, via loopholes, Kiera thinks about this and repeats, "Courts? Weds? Which? One comes before the other." There's a brief recollection of those thoughts. "In Sylvan ways, one comes before the other, if the other comes at all. The Varati... Often have marriages arranged, yes? I do not care to have this." In case there was any doubt at all. Kiera is earnest in that. You think she's a troublemaker now? If she were forced into a marriage she didn't want, she'd redefine the word.

Chuckling a little, Khalid replies, "I understand. You may choose your mate. It is very different from our own customs, but this shall be the case with you. Any male who wishes to marry you must petition me for permission to do so. Once, of course, you have agreed yourself." His fingers brush that brown hair of yours again as he muses, "Though tell me of such men in advance. I would like to know who takes an interest in you."

Quite likely, this is going to limit Kiera's suitors to exactly none. First, the poor sap has to be interested enough in her to put up with her. Then he has to endure the scrutiny of the only deity that has bothered to come to live among his people. Then he has to win Kiera's approval and then he must get permission from the self-same God-King. Kiera's going to die an old maid. "You will scare them away." The halfbreed is well-familiar with that feeling, when she first dealt with you, and sometimes even onto recent times. The assertion is somewhat worry, somewhat resignation.

Laughing softly, Khalid tosses your hair with a playful twist of his hand. "I will? Why would any be scared of one such as I?" Blue eyes twinkle with merriment as he replies, "No. Someone worthy of you will be brave enough to face me for such permission. Someone who loves you, with all their heart. Someone who knows the value of your love is greater than the wrath of any god. Even a god such as I. Jaimizal dared ask me for Vinita. I think you will find your own Jaimizal, little hawk."

Kiera isn't making any bets. But she had to ask. In this world, ignorance is no excuse for wrongdoing, and Kiera is aware of the rather quick and decisive manner in which you occasionally dispose of wrong-doers. While she is reasonably sure you would not kill her, you might well let her witness a roast of a co-conspirator, so to speak, as a lesson. And Kiera would rather not subject anyone to that. She nods. Glances up at the waning sun. "The moon comes soon. If it is not full -- I will not have to change, but it is soon, the full moon." Now Kiera's fingers press in some earnest into your flesh, then she drops her hand, remembering herself. "I trust you, that you will not let me leave here, not knowing where I go, when I am hawk. Thank you, Khalid-Atar." That unsettled, almost hunted expression falls upon Kiera once more. This is one she allows few to see, openly, for this is the other battle she wages, monthly, with her other magic, and shapeshifting has been less tractable than her prodigy elemental magic. She is Graisha. She won't admit it, but Kiera knows this.

"I will protect you, little hawk. As I have always done, since the day I first met you. I will watch over you." Khalid's hand finds your own and holds it for a moment, before releasing it. "I shall make ready in my tent. Come to me when you feel the pull of the moon become too strong for you to resist." With nothing more to say, the God-King of the Varati turns away from you and begins to march back to his tent.

Kiera will. She watches you go with hooded gaze, steady and warm, then reshuffles her wings on her back, fluffs her feathers to withstand the chill that will inevitably return in your absence. And this night, she will creep in, find a corner and sleep, standing, as is her wont. The next night, likely, Kiera will shift to a hawk. Hopefully, Teacher will have returned by then.

FIN  

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