Loretober No. 15 : Newcomers
CW: Forced marriage, implied death
“We’ve secured an alliance with the clan in Ice” Ciavana tossed at her daughter one evening. “They are sending Hithon -- one of their Guardian warriors, they said. He could be a useful partner.”
Shimyra pressed her lips together. She knew it was an order, not a suggestion -- there would be no disagreement. “Yes, mother,” she simply replied.
--
Shimyra was the only one waiting for the visitors when they arrived, because she was the only one the prophets could trust so close to the border. As she curled her claws idly into the sparse grass that faded into inhospitable desert, she felt the Oasis tug amicably at her mind like a child begging her to come back and play.
The first thing she noticed when he broke through the shimmering horizon of the Boneyard was the Guardian’s size. He was an obelisk of muscle, his scant armor glinting with each movement. Each step he took was poised and purposeful. If he was exhausted from his journey, he gave no indication of it.
Floating beside him was a sapphire-blue Fae whose violet silks matched the hue of his eyes. While he looked far more like a dancer than a warrior, he didn’t look any more exhausted than Hithon did. For a moment, Shimyra wondered if she should be intimidated by these guests.
She quickly stamped the feeling down when she felt the forest bristle. If she didn’t trust them, then the Oasis would devour them the moment they stepped foot on its land. Her clan had never in their years formed an alliance with another clan, and she doubted the quickly and untimely death of their diplomats would bode well. Besides, she refused to let this man -- her betrothed -- see weakness in her.
Her parents had refused to tell her why they’d formed an alliance in the first place. The Oasis clan was isolationist by nature and interacted with the outside world through necessity, not choice. She’d learned through prying that Hithon’s people were ruthless and unlikely to disagree with the Oasis’s culture, but it still didn’t seem like a convincing enough reason to open up communications.
Shimyra did not take a single step off the grass as Hithon and his companion reached the border of her home. He towered over her, a smudge of ink blocking out the sun. The only color to him were his icy eyes and his shimmering lavender wings -- other than that, his body and armor were as grey as the Floes.
Shimyra kept her neck straight and her face fearless. It wasn’t a ruse; she really did have nothing to fear from her guests as long as they met on her own turf. The Oasis loved her too much to let her die.
“Hithon,” she greeted with a curt nod. “Welcome to the Oasis. You, and...”
“Wadro,” the Fae chimed in. He was far more expressive than most Fae tended to be. Frankly, Hithon could have passed more as a Fae if one went by his stony expression.
“Wadro.” Shimyra nodded and turned her attention back to the Guardian. “You and your companion are not known by the Oasis. I cannot guarantee your safety if you cannot guarantee it for yourself. Are you sure you are willing to join us?”
She knew she could half-control the Oasis to leave its guests be, but this was information that she kept to herself. Not even her parents knew about how deep her ties to the forest went.
In a deep voice that pooled heavily in Shimyra’s stomach, Hithon replied, “If I cannot defend myself, then I’m sure I would deserve the death that awaited me.”
‘I guess Ice is as ruthless as the rumors say,’ the Tundra mused and moved to let her betrothed pass. ‘If this doesn’t scare them, I hate to imagine what they have back home.’