Azrael was ruthless in the company others. He was prone to displays of anger, often snatching and dragging her around, speaking to her as if she were a dog rather than a person, and often raised his hand with such conviction, Yeva believed he might actually strike her. As a result, she winced often and felt an alien fear that hadn't plagued their relationship since the first seasons of its life.
Even upon the ship that was to take them to Scalvoris, he snarled and spit at her feet and Yeva felt her eyes well with tears. She wanted to shout at him, to tell him that this was enough - acting or not, he crossed several lines - but she knew he did so for her protection. He couldn't risk their secret being discovered before they could get her out of the city, safe and away from real Avriel masters who would be more than eager than to get their talons on her. Some Avriel, Azrael had warned, enjoyed breaking slaves. They liked crushing the willpower from their possessions and he believed a few of his equals suspected his softness for Yeva. That scared him.
Those who had known Azrael in his youth had witnessed a savagery Yeva had yet to wrap her mind around. Azrael could be callous, irritable and downright bratty when he did not get his way, but outright hateful? Now the medic was beginning to understand.
She struggled with dragging the chest, loaded with all their possessions, upon the deck. The corner got caught upon a board at the loading bay and try as she might, pulling and pushing, the container refused to move. Upon the deck, Azrael talked to another Avriel in Lorien, pausing to see her struggle. He cursed her, adding a warning that if she did not succeed, she would face a wrath that would make Syroa look merciful.
Yeva apologized, red faced as she pushed harder, unable to stop the tears that burst from her eyes. She was tired. Physically, mentally, emotionally. She barely processed the watery blur that stormed towards her, falling back at the cracking of a whip against the wooden chest, narrowly missing where her fingers had gripped its handles. Bits of woods splintered and flicked against her chest, "Look at me!" Azrael shouted.
Beside him, the other Avriel with wings like a blue jay, watched with a predator's smile, "This one is useless, Stormwing."
Azrael turned his nose up, scowling. Still, the other bird blood continued to berate the girl. Yeva wiped at her cheeks, soaked from her tears. The foreign tongue she heard was confusing and it scared her, "Seket told me you keep her around only to warm your bed. At first I doubted her, but now, seeing how weak you've become-"
Yeva saw Azrael's jaw clench and while she met his eye, his fury cracked. Not at her, but at the other man's words. Still, it was the redhead who would bear the pain. Azrael pulled back and backhanded her with such force, Yeva stumbled in shock and damage. Agony splintered across the side of her face and she nearly went falling back into the water, catching herself against the vessel's railing. She clutched her face, only partially aware of the sound of the chest being moved aboard beyond the ringing of her ear.
The other Avriel that had been watching laughed. Azrael pretended to unbothered by his abuse, holding the whip meanacingly. A silent promise for the others to witness, "Get out of my sight." he growled.
Yeva cried loudly and went running towards stairs leading to the lower level. She knew where the sleeping quarters were, and where he would expect her to be waiting. Blinded as the bright light of the sun turned into dim lanterns, she sobbed and leaned against the wall as she winded through the corridor towards their room. He had struck her. Berated her. Abused her.
Athart had been like nothing she had expected.
She reached the room and threw herself inside, locking the door behind her. It didn't matter, Azrael was the one who held the key, but the defiant action made her feel better. As if to let him know he had crossed a line when she couldn't find the words. Yeva stumbled, dazed with pain still nipping her check. Her skin felt hot where he had struck her and she fell upon the small cot and cried into the pillow, spit and snot running down her face. She cried until her nose stuffed and a headache pulsed inside her head, listening to the calls of sailors as the finally orders before shipping were called.
Something heavy was dropped outside the door and she heard the doorknob turn and catch. It rattled and stopped, a deep sigh following.
"Yeva."
She said nothing, hiding her face in the pillow. Strands of copper clung to her wet face.
"Yeva, open the door."
No.
He waited. Her footsteps did not appear to be crossing the room.
Yeva listened to more movement and then the whisper of metal touching metal as he pushed the key into the lock and clicked it open. Shortly after, his silhouette appeared in the opened doorway and he pulled the chest after him. Once the door was closed behind him, he neatly tucked his wings and turned to her, "I didn't want to hurt you."
"Go away."
"Yeva, I wouldn't have done that if I didn't fear they might take you from me. We are so close to getting away from Athart, I-"
"Leave me alone!"
He grew quiet and then she felt his shadow standing over her, "Yeva..." His hand brushed her shoulder and she twisted, swinging her hands and trying to hit whatever part of him she could. How dare he treat her like that! How dare he hit her! They were supposed to be friends.
"I trusted you!" she screamed, crying with renewed vigor,
"You were supposed to take care of me! You humiliated me! You... You!"
He stiffed and absorbed her blows, catching her wrists as she bucked and tried to pull away from him. He said nothing, even as she growled and shouted,
"We're not friends!" she tried to kick at him but his weight soon followed as he pinned her beneath him,
"Let me go!" she cried,
"Let me go!" Her mouth tasted of salt,
"I hate you!"
Her energy drained quickly, admitted when she could not longer fight and simply cried like a wounded animal, weak and deflated in his grip.
"I hate myself too," he whispered in Lorien, pressing his forehead against her shoulder, "I'm sorry."
"I don't care!"
He ignored her protests, which varied and continued long after the ship sounded its bell and had pulled away from port, laying next to her while her chest heaved and she waited for the betrayal she felt to pass. At last, the tension in her body faded, leaving a very tired woman in its wake. Azrael rubbed the soft skin where he had held her wrists, a silent plea for her ear. When she didn't immediately try to push him away, he took it as a good sign.
"I should never have brought you to Athart. This plan was foolish."
He had said as much when she had begged to be brought to the jungle city. Had she really believed it would have been some sort of vacation? An adventure? The whole visit had been one debacle after another and he had known it. The desperate apology in his voice rolled across her shoulder as he nestled beside her, his white wing lifting to partially drape across her waist. Yeva rolled on her side, facing away from him and he pulled her against him, whispering against her hair.
"Please forgive me," he pleaded, so uncharacteristic to such a proud man. An apology was practically miraculous, but she wouldn't be swayed so easily. She didn't like being treated like that. Period. The added audience, and its laughter, had only deepened her internal wounds.
"I'm taking you to Scalvoris," he promised, "Far, far away... In the Eastern lands," his hands continued to try and ease her agitation with him, rubbing her arms as if they could soothe away her disappointment, "Where slavery is illegal, and I'll never hit you again."
"That's rich," she grumbled. Had they been anyone else, she would have diagnosed classic abuse.
"I won't," he repeated again, firmly. His voice softened, "I know you don't believe me, but I will make you happier there. I will make up for this. I..."
Yeva wanted to believe him. He had always played the role of their arrangement well, yet there was only so much she could take. Yet... he had never crossed this line before. In any case where a disagreement had enraged him, he had simply separated himself from her. But he wasn't perfect. He wasn't always in control. The redhead had seen slips, but he had never taken them out on her.
He had made a mistake.
Yeva turned to look over her shoulder at the silver eyes that widened in hope. Azrael held his breath, waiting.
"If you ever hit me again like that, I'll never forgive you."
He sighed in relief, squeezing her tighter. He pressed his face into her neck, "If I ever hit you again like that," he whispered, finding her hand and lacing their fingers together, "I'll never forgive myself."
► Show Spoiler
Gardening
How to Grow & Utilize: Lady's Mantle
How to Grow & Utilize: Balm of Gileia
Unarmed Combat
Getting Assaulted By Someone You Trust Hurts The Most
The Frustration of Running Out of Strength At a Critical Moment
Unfocused & Wild Attacks Are Easily Subdued
Non-Skill
Lorien
The Common Sounds of Lorien
Used by Avriel [Masters]
Medal for giving me goosebumps.