Moonlight Rondo (Closed)

[Apollo Wilde]

She had to hand it to the Samsara order: they definitely knew how and where to build a temple.

The Shining Moon temple was nestled deep within the mountains, some said, directly into the palm of the God. The right hand held the sun, the left, the moon, so the stories said, and the temples had to be built accordingly - and thusly, the Shining Moon temple had the most spectacular views of the night sky, she suspected, in the entire world. Lending credence to the idea that the temple was built within the left palm of God, the temple lay in a valley ringed by snowy mountain tops and dense evergreen forests. There was only one way in and out of the valley: an arduous journey that cut ruthlessly vertical from the ground, so steep that many parts of the journey were to be made clinging to sheer rock faces and looking for worn footholds carved by previous generations of monks. Only the most devoted followers made the once in a lifetime pilgrimage, and more often than not, by the time they reached the strangely verdant valley where there wasn’t even so much as a whisper of the arctic winds that threatened to knock them off the paths upwards, they were worse for wear: frostbite was certainly a given.

The valley itself was perpetually a land of spring, a bubble of wisteria and honeysuckle, perfectly manicured gardens and fish ponds, where it was said man lived in perfect harmony with nature, where a man could meet the eyes of a tiger and not feel instant dread. It was rumored, in fact, that some of the monks were actually dragons; that the mighty creatures, wearying of the constant battle between the hordes of men, had retreated here, had actually started this particular order. That it was the remnants of their old magic and connections to the natural world that kept this place a paradise. But those, as the monks insisted, were just stories. But the way that they said it carried a hidden wink, a good natured sparkle that the truth may be all the more fantastical.

And every time she made her way up the mountain, gritting her teeth against the cold, cursing that once more, she’d forgotten to wear an extra layer, all of her wounds, her aches, were erased as soon as she took in the first deep breath of the perfumed air. With a regularity that would have shamed the most devoted of the Order, she managed to find herself here at least once a year for the past eight years - but that wasn’t counting all of the times that she’d tried making it before and failed. Now, she thought, as she crept through the slumbering fields, she could probably make a good living being a guide.

It was always night by the time she arrived, long after when the few pilgrims who made the journey had arrived. And she was always by herself, dressed as lightly as she could, running on days of eating little and drinking from the freshly fallen snow. Night was a blessed time at the temple: normally when the place was the most active. But not on the first night when the pilgrims first arrived; most were so exhausted by the journey that as soon as they arrived, they were treated for any wounds and allowed to rest. The monks were typically distracted as well, so concerned with caring for the new faces that many parts of the temple were left either understaffed, or un-staffed all together. It was information that she’d only gleaned after two years - and the third when she considered that she’d truly gotten an idea of how things worked.

He’d been a surprise, of course - the youngest monk. He seemed just as surprised to see her as she had been to see him. Surprise hadn’t meant that he was slow on the draw: if anything, she had been shocked to nearly inaction at how quick he was. Much quicker than other opponents that she’d had in the past. And the first year, he’d knocked her flat. She should have expected that, with how tired she was after making the journey, and then making the rookie mistake of not actually bothering to blend in with the other pilgrims and take time to actually rest and gather strength. Still, rather than rat her out, he’d done the most surprising thing -

He gave her a cup of hot soup and told her to rest.

That night had been tense, with the two of them staring at each other, not really sure of what to make of one another. She’d thought that he’d attack when her guard was down: he wouldn’t take his eyes off of her. To be fair, though, she had been there to steal the Halation - which wasn’t her main prize, but hey, if she went for that first, it’d throw the scent off of what she was really after. The Shining Moon temple was flush with priceless artifacts; each wing of the temple devoted to some crown jewel or the other in religious items and knickknacks. Why, even the humble serving bowls and utensils that the monks used would go for high prices in the black market - less about the items themselves, and the reputation building it did for the thief that managed to procure them. Stealing cutlery seemed a bit…low, even for her, so she’d had her eye set on a larger prize from the get-go.

It was only spoken of in hushed rumors - and more importantly, only shown to pilgrims who had made the journey for 20 years without fail. It was supposedly the highest prized item in the Order, some would even argue the world. Priceless beyond wild imaginings it was: the few pilgrims that had actually seen it were sworn to secrecy, for revealing any details about the item was sure to dispel any blessings that they’d gathered. Still, she knew her intel was solid, and she had a solid idea of what she was going for.

Apparently so did he.

After the second time of running into him, then the third, she began to have the sneaking suspicion that he was…looking out for her. Expecting her. He was no push over; every year their paths crossed, he’d gotten better at hand to hand combat, and she had to push herself that much harder to ward him off. The fact that he kept her on her toes was a rare pleasure in life - though she wouldn’t admit to it. At least not out loud. Even now, as she crept through the high grasses that flanked the east wing of the temple, she had to bite back her smile. This would be her ninth year here, meaning that, if her luck - wait, what did she mean by ‘luck’?- held, it’d be her ninth time seeing him. The last two years, they’d actually started something close to conversation, beyond the usual banter between thief and devout monk. Funny, then, that she didn’t know his name.

The weight of her pouch was reassuring; she’d brought something a bit extra this go round. Not that she would admit to it; it was something she’d started in the seventh year. And if pressed, she couldn’t really explain why, either. It just felt like the right thing to do. For all of his battle ability and his upright (as far as she could tell) nature, there was a sadness about him. Loneliness that eased off of him like the ring of light that occasionally wrapped around the moon on a night that promised rain in the morning. Far be it from her to tell him how to live his life (especially when dodging his punches), but he tugged at her. Had worked under her skin. Probably the closest thing she had to a friend these days. She wasn’t sure if that was sadder than his own circumstances; it certainly said a lot for her own.

Three steps to the right to avoid the squeaky floorboard. A hop over the large crack that ran through the center of the hall, said to have been made by one of the first generations of monks, the result of a leg slammed into the floor to ward off some enemy. Rumor had it that any person with ill intent that stepped on the crack would instantly be held fast by the floor. Rumor, but after all of these years, she wasn’t going to risk it.

Slide beneath the low hanging arms of the Dancing God and Goddess, creep on her belly, prostrate, to the tabernacle. The floor here was always just the right temperature - though she’d heard, from others, that if her heart wasn’t in the right place, much like the crack, the floor would either be scalding hot or freezing cold, the God’s way of purging any impure thought, feeling, from those who would approach the greatest of his treasure. This felt to be the longest part of the journey, largely from how slow it was. Inch by inch, her breath fogging the floor in front of her, she made her way forward. Though the way was familiar by this point, she couldn’t help but to let her mind focus on her surroundings, to appreciate the simple beauty of the temple. From the air thick with incense smoke, the high ceilings that brought the occasional creak of the woods outside, it was a beautiful place, a home away from home, and it was only in this part of her journey that she truly allowed herself to slow down.

Her friend, too (why would she call him that?) would be at the end of this hall, behind the sandalwood carved doors, in the fragrant tabernacle that was the last boundary before the greatest treasure - the tabernacle that usually meant the end of her journey, for she had yet to get past it. But after nine years, surely she would be due.

 

[Nouh_Bdee]

It bothered him that he was a little bit excited about tonight. He wasn’t supposed to be. She was a thief, for right’s sake, and he was a monk of the order of Samsara. He should have turned her in to the bishops that first night, eight years ago. Instead, he’d fed her and let her go.

Now, it would be the ninth time she’d tried to steal the Staff, and he still couldn’t bring himself to tell the bishops. Worse, he was actually looking forward to seeing her. What was it about this woman that made him so weak?

He adjusted the loose robes that marked him as an ordained monk of the Order, smoothing out the silver-embroidered wool. It had been a special request of the lay brothers that made purchases on behalf of the monks. Most of the monks wore linen indoors, where the many fires kept the mountain chill at bay, but Kai’ori had always needed more warmth. It was a gift from his grandmother.

His slippers made only a soft shuffling sound on the slate floors. The incense in the tabernacle tickled his nose as the crackling fire tickled his ears. It was almost time, surely. Kai took a few slow steps to the sandalwood doors before flinging them open dramatically.

“Good evening.”

There she was, crawling on her belly on the enchanted floor, most of the way down the hall toward him. He suppressed a smile. The look on her face when he interrupted her, caught sneaking in: it was priceless.

Kai leaned against the doorframe.

“Take your time. I’ll wait. And then I’ll send you on your way.”

 

[Apollo Wilde]

She didn't stop her slow slide across the floor. Her eyes flickered up in his direction, and then, a smirk on her plush mouth.

“I was beginning to think that you wouldn’t show." Just above a whisper, loud enough for him to hear. Though she was there to steal (there was no denying that), she had an astounding amount of respect of where she was. And now, just to toy with him, she rolled, cat-like, onto her back, exposing the plane of her stomach. Not like it would be that revealing, in her somewhat bulky black tunic and baggy black pants, but the playful sexual innuendo was there. “Glad you’re being patient, though. Gives me time to do the proper penance.”

No mockery in her voice as she rolled back to her stomach, continuing to crawl along the enchanted floor. If there was indication that she was “wicked,” the floor certainly didn’t give her away. And she, for her part, seemed like any other pilgrim. Perhaps late in coming, but a pilgrim all the same. She touched her forehead the floor every 80 paces, in time with the teachings. A sign of reverence, of blessing. A small smile caught between herself and the temple’s trappings. There was some unspoken understanding there, the temple seemed to caress her as much as she did it.

But finally, she was a few paces in front of him. A final touch of her forehead to the floor, then, to her hands and knees, then, standing, in proper respect to where she was. If she had been a normal pilgrim, now would have been the time for him to bless her a final time, then, open the doors to the tabernacle - then further, they would journey together to the heart of the temple. However, she stood now in front of him, a foot away, and simply smiled. This was all part of the dance.

“All the same - I have something for you. Before we begin.” She looked up into his face with that same warm smile, an understanding that this was the conversation, a discussion of the rules before the battle started. “Tea from home.” Wherever ‘home’ might be; their conversations never got that far. She reached to the small pouch on her belt, and produced a small brocade bag, deep red, tied delicately with silken gold thread. “Fireflower tea. It tastes a little like honey, but it’s got a spice to it. It’s wonderful in the evening, with a bit of rock sugar and milk. But it’s also good on it’s own.”

Her eyes reflected the muted candlelight as she looked up at him. They were a vibrant rich brown in her tea-colored face, flecked with gold - living tiger’s eye gems. Lioness like eyes, naturally rimmed with jet black lashes and kohl to keep the glare of the sun down. Heavy black brows, the left one with a slash through it, a healed knife wound. Considering her line of work, it was somewhat miraculous that she only had the one scar on her face. Well, that could be seen, anyway. There were fine lines and nicks across her hands, forearms, scratches and scrapes from training. There was a roguish-ness about her face, a devil-may-care airiness that suggested she'd be the first to not only suggest a jump from a cliff into the water below, but the first to do it. It was only slightly tempered by the natural downward turn of her mouth that gave her face a bit of learned gravity.

 

[Nouh_Bdee]

Was it his imagination, or had the way she rolled around on the floor changed? No longer simply following the ritual, she seemed to undulate into each new position, emphasizing the shape of her body and the curves she flowed into as she rotated on the ground. He blushed, and tried to turn his eyes just slightly away, but he was afraid to take his eyes off her completely. She was a thief, after all.

The look in her eyes when she stood up didn’t help. She had a warm, friendly smile on her face, and he didn’t trust it one bit. Or maybe he didn’t trust himself around it. They’d been warming up to each other for the last few of their clandestine nighttime meetings, but he couldn’t relax. Not completely. If he stopped watching out for her at the wrong moment, she could disappear with the artifact.

Still, his mother raised him to be polite. That was why he returned her warm smile. It wasn’t because he enjoyed these moments of understanding between them, before they fought. This was how it went every time, and every time a few more cracks appeared in his defenses. What she did next, though, put a hole in those walls.

“Something…for me?” She reached into her pouch and pulled out a beautiful little bag. He froze for a few seconds, trying to process this. The only thing either of them had ever given each other was a bowl of soup, and it had always been him just trying to make sure she was warm on the hike down the mountain. It was…a practical thing, not done out of sentiment. He held no affections for her, after all. At least not that he would admit.

Was she…had he misjudged her, all these years? What if the artifact was just a ruse, an excuse to…to spend time with him? She did seem to be less desperate for it as the years went on, less frustrated when he inevitably sent her home. Could he have misjudged her?

A blush spread across his cheeks as his fingers reached out for the bag. “Um…thank you.” He took it and placed it in the pocket of his robes. They were supposed to exchange pleasantries, and then she would try to get past him to the artifact. They would fight, he would stop her, and then he would get her some soup before he sent her on her way. But maybe it didn’t have to be that way? Maybe they could just…talk? He couldn’t get too friendly with her, couldn’t risk the purity of his Order, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t treat her with warmth and hospitality, like the more traditional pilgrims.

“Do, um…do you want to skip fighting this year?” His detached confidence had been disrupted by her gift. Now he sounded shy, like a farmboy asking out a sweet village girl. Not that he was asking her out, or would ever want to. He didn’t feel that way about her. “I could show you some of the other relics? And then we could share some tea by the fire before you go…”

If the tea had all been a trick to catch him on his back foot, it worked. His body, normally coiled and ready to spring, was set on his heels, relaxed. He wouldn’t react quite as quickly as she was used to.

 

[Apollo Wilde]

The roguish nature of her smile softened, turned tender. Not something shared between adversaries, but from distant friends, an older sister to a younger brother. Closing the distance between the two of them, her hands found his and helped them close over the small bag of tea. Looking up into his eyes, her soft grin gradually tip-toed back into her typical devil may care smile. “You’re welcome. Though after all these years, it’s hardly anything to thank me for. You’ve looked after me every time. So at least you can’t say I’m an ungrateful guest.”

A gentle tap to his nose, though she had to stand on her tiptoes to do so. Come to think about it, she’d never been this close to him - not when they weren’t fighting, anyway. He was a good head or so taller than her, made to look even moreso by the cut of his robes. A pity, came the stray thought - though one she quickly pushed away, mortified that she’d even considered it. She’d done a lot of things to get by in the world, but thinking of a young brother in the Samsara order as anything close to…attractive, secular, felt like she’d taken a step entirely too far.

His words brought her back to reality, and she laughed, softly. Not mocking, but tinged with a bit of sorrow. Ruefulness. “As much as sitting and enjoying a cup of tea near a fire on this cold night would warm my bones, not to mention my soul, I am here on a mission. I’m sorry.” Sincerity there, as she shifted, putting space between them. It spoke volumes of how she saw him; she could’ve taken advantage of his lapse in his guard. But she didn’t. There was an order to these things. Some small talk, a bit of banter, but never anything too personal. And the fighting never grew desperate enough that she felt that her life was at stake. Her pride, yes, but never her life. He always stopped short of throttling her - she’d left only with bruises, and even then, he seemed horrified that she’d ended up with even that. One year, she’d managed to bloody his lip, and felt so guilty that she stopped the fight that was otherwise inching towards her favor.

“I’ve got to get that staff…but maybe you might want to just…give it to me this year?” A small smile, wheedling.

 

[Nouh_Bdee]

While part of him would enjoy sharing a cup of tea with her by the fire, he knew he would miss the struggle. He wasn’t sure why, but something about their annual fights warmed his sparse smattering of scales, and it wasn’t just because he was protecting the Shining Moon Temple’s treasures. He took a step back, lifted his chin, and smiled. If she wanted the shaft, she was going to have to earn it.

“No.”

He waited for her to get in a ready stance, and then with a nod he moved. The soft leather boots on his feet made a shuffling sound as he slid forward across the stone floor. His arm moved forward, the remnants of his draconic heritage giving him strength that belied his size. Still, she was no novice, and they went back and forth. Cautious. Patient. Feeling each other out. Keeping their feet.

It usually started this way, neither leaving an opening until someone tried something different. This time it was him. Kai’ori grabbed a cloth from a nearby altar, his weight shifting to the right as his torso leaned left in a feint and he flung the cloth into her face. It landed perfectly, obscuring her vision just enough to give him an opening to turn and whip his tail into her middle with every bit of strength he had. What he didn’t have, was a tail.

He’d never had one, not even a little nub. Yet every once in a great while, his body instinctively reacted like he did. His grandmother said it was his blood, the eighth of his blood he’d gotten from her, that knew (or thought) he should have a tail. He’d trained with his grandmother, practicing her combat forms for hours on hours, but that instinct was still there. It was the same thing that made him flex his shoulder blades sometimes trying to flap the wings he didn’t have, that made him perk up for just a moment at the mention of gold, that made him lie in bed sometimes and succumb to thoughts of the mysterious, womanly thief whose touch burned in his memory those times his body threatened to succumb to its natural urges.

So far he’d resisted every time, kept himself from taking matters into his own hands, betraying Samsara, and sullying his purity, but those were the times it was the most difficult. Another gift from his grandmother, according to his family’s stories.

So, even though there was a very good reason that Kai’ori had turned around in the middle of a fight to harmlessly present his ass to the thief, it probably still looked very strange.

 

[Apollo Wilde]

A playfully dramatic sigh, along with a roll of those bright golden brown eyes. “Somehow,” she clicked her tongue to emphasize her point, “I knew you’d say that.”

It was always thrilling, facing off with this young priest. In some ways, it felt like she’d trained the whole of the year leading up to this. No roving gang of bandits, would-be kidnappers, or murderers were even a close match. Though this little priest was much more…gentlemanly. No cheap shots, hits below the belt, or wandering hands when he was pinned.

Her feet flowed into long practiced stances, watching, waiting. The anticipation there, always, as they watched each other, where he’d move next. He was good; better than good. No tells in his eyes, in the change of his shoulder. All action.

The cloth caught her off guard; she hadn’t realistically seen that coming. Such slights of hand (if they could be called that) were something expected from her; things she hadn’t done in years. She supposed, with a small smile as she whipped the cloth from her face, that he may have held a grudge over it.

Her next action, however, was stopped dead in her tracks as he presented his rear to her. The way he’d swung around, with such purpose…Was he going to fart at her? Projectile diarrhea?

“Gah!” She yelped, jumping away, trying to put as much space between the two of them as possible. Clinging to the wall, she kept her face turned away, nose high. “I didn’t think it’d come down to you…you…” Her cheeks flamed. She’d seen the worst that humanity had to offer; that wasn’t up for debate. But thinking of anything worldly with this little priest just made it that much more awful. “Don’t fart at me, you lunatic!”

She sounded genuinely insulted - he’d crossed some invisible line, broken an unspoken truce. “Good goddess,” she snorted. “If you’ve resulted to that…”

 

[Nouh_Bdee]

Kai’s cheeks burned.

“What??” He blinked and shook his head. “No! That’s not–why…” He knew why. He could see why she would think that, but dammit that wasn’t the point! “No!”

He shrunk down, shoulders hunching, neck tense. “I…it’s not nice to make fun, you know!” He was not here to be mocked! He was here to fulfill his solemn duty to protect the staff and all the other artifacts. “I am a Brother of the Samsara order! Not some playground hooligan here to make crude jokes!” He grunted, a rough exhale from the back of his throat. “Or be the butt of them!”

He was starting to get a pain in his temples. Ugh, he needed a nice cup of tea and a sitdown. Or to punch something. “Not that I meant to say butt!”

He felt like he was back home with his family, his cousins teasing him for being, in their words, so fucking uptight. At least they were family, though. She had not right to make him feel flustered like this. It wasn’t fair!

The look on her face threatened to break his impotent rage, so he brought his hands up in a fighting stance. “Shut up and fight me like an adult! That’s what you came here to do, isn’t it?!”

Punching something it was, then.

 

[Apollo Wilde]

An annoyingly off-handed shrug, pinning the blame of the whole situation squarely on his shoulders. “Well, I’m not the one doing weird things in a fight.” Her words were laced through with the softest of laughter; apparently she’d recovered from the shock quicker than he had. But it spoke volumes that she again didn’t take advantage of their situation - if anything, she waited rather patiently for him to finish his spiel, her bright eyes studying him.


He was…really rather attractive flustered.


The thought surprised her as quickly as it’d come on; what had spurred it? Perhaps seeing a bit behind of the oh-so proper veil that he wore. It was never a holier than thou attitude - if it had been, they wouldn’t have gotten this far. Perhaps there was a living, breathing person under all of those robes.


“I’d come here to steal the staff, actually,” another off the cuff remark, that devil-may-care nature slipping through again, turning her bones to rubber as she seemed to slink around him, pacing with one foot markedly in front of the other, daring him to make the first move. “But somehow we always end up fighting. And this year, I was nice enough to bring you a present. No strings attached, even,” she held up her hands, wiggling her fingers at him, “Because you’ve been kind to me in the past. But of course, a few ounces of tea, lovely as it is, isn’t worth the same as that staff.”


She stopped now, sliding into a traditional fighting pose. She had a few things going for her: agility, and fancy foot work. Her punches weren’t as hard as her kicks, and she didn’t rely much on her fists. In their fights in the past, she favored that intricate footwork, and coupled with her ability to turn nearly any movement against her into a throw, it was hard to get into close quarters with her. Though she hoped he’d make that mistake this year; she’d learned a few leg holds that she was dying to try.

 

[Nouh_Bdee]

Kai stomped his feet and snorted. He knew he needed to calm down, but she could be so infuriating!

“We always end up fighting because you come here to steal the staff!”

He tried to keep himself still, to watch, to wait, to be ready to react to her impending attack, but she just kept gliding around him and saying things that pissed him off!

He spun to face her again, his fist swinging out into a lazily attempt at a backhand.

“Of course it’s not worth the staff! The staff is priceless! It is a holy artifact of Samsara!” He shook his head, a snarl on his lips. “What do you want with it, anyway? You’re not even of the faith!”

She settled into her ready stance. Kai wasted no time in sending a few punches and kicks her way, trying his best to keep her at a distance. He still had the presence of mind to avoid giving her a grappling opportunity, and to keep his feet underneath him, but that might not last forever if she kept getting him riled up.

 

[Apollo Wilde]

She was dancing around him, his anger making his movements uncharacteristically sloppy and telegraphing clearly. Despite the lightness of her voice, concern soon took over her face as she continued to dodge, leaving feet of space between them at each moment. Was he truly upset with her? He normally was so much more at ease with their fights, treating them seriously, in that calm nature of someone who knew that he directly outclassed her. And it was one of the only times that she took being bested with anything close to grace.

One sloppy kick, and she moved: closing the gap between them. Her hands landed on either side of his thigh, gripping the muscle firmly, and with a tug and a controlled backwards fall, she wrenched him off balance - as gently as she could - and as they fell to the ground, the leg she had on the ground came up as a part of that fall, effectively slipping between his, with her other leg on top of his. A deft twist from her from their scissored position, and the leg that was between her own was caught firmly, effectively locking him in place. With his ankle between her hands, it would’ve been easy for her to break it - but she didn’t. She kept her grasp on his ankle light, easily broken, but the grip on his thigh between her own was solid.


“I have my own reasons,” her voice was strained: it took a bit of her own strength to keep the grasp on him, “For wanting the staff. But if it makes you feel better, I’m not taking it simply to sell it,” she blew a strand of cloud-like hair from her eyes.


But now what? She couldn’t just ask, “Hey, are you okay?”, because that would be going against the rules. Maybe she could turn it around: keep it more ‘professional.’ Maybe it’d been her mistake by being a bit too free in her banter. She’d crossed a line, perhaps. And she needed to actually focus on what was happening. Yes, she had him in a good lock - but it meant that she was effectively tied down to the ground as well. If she dropped the lock, she’d have a moment to dash for the staff, but that meant leaving herself open for an attack from the back. If she’d been in his position, it’d be nothing to break the grasp, and then, as she fled, tackle her. And taking on the full weight of him would mean she would, more or less, be down for the count. For someone who was as light on his feet as he was, his strength was incredible. Inhuman, really.


A tightening of her thighs around his. A drumming of her fingers against his ankle, sensual, almost. Her fingers warm against the chill of his skin. “I’ve been meaning to ask,” her voice was strained, “Why is it always you guarding the staff? Are you some sort of high ranking warrior priest?”

 

[Nouh_Bdee]

How in the name of the heavens did he let himself get in this position? They always went back and forth. The fights were never effortless. His natural strength and reach gave him an advantage–that was how he’d kept her from the staff every year–but she knew what she was doing, too. Still, he shouldn’t have gotten pinned so easily. His focus was slipping. Was that why she’d given him the tea? Why else would she have done that and then still fought him?

Her legs against his, even through clothes, her fingers on his ankle, the weight and warmth of her pressing him to the cold stone floor–somehow they made his senses feel keener, more directed, focused on her. That wasn’t what he should be thinking about! He should be thinking about the fight! He had to keep ehr from the staff, and none of the rest of it mattered. So why couldn’t he get the rest of it out of his head? Why had she given him that damned tea?

He growled, but he hadn’t moved since she pinned, hadn’t made any attempt to break any part of her hold on him, too frozen in his thoughts, too distracted. He heard her question, though, and it stunned him. It was always him because he’d never told the others. He’d meant, too, that very first year and several times after, but he just hadn’t done it. Did she know? Did she suspect that there was some…reason that he’d kept her a secret? Was that why she brought him the tea?

“Rrragh! Now you want to talk? Now that you think you have the upper hand?”

He yanked his ankle out of her grasp, and used his other leg and both arms to push himself off the ground. “Whatever you’re thinking, it…unh…won’t! Work!”

Her grip on his leg was good, though, and he couldn’t keep his balance lifting both of them. They tumbled, side over side, until he was finally able to wrench his leg free, ignoring the part of him that missed her touch. “Now. Give up, or I’ll have to make you!”

 

[Apollo Wilde]

That growl from him was low, guttural, and absolutely that of an apex predator. Like a flip had switched in her brain, she realized that she had a tiger by the tail, her hands instinctively let go. He’d taken advantage of her surprise and was moving - and it seemed in one moment, she was leg-locked by him, the next, she was flat on her back, the breath knocked out of her.

She blinked, her mind registering the change - and her body reacted before her brain could catch up. Legs coiled in the small space between their bodies, and in a flash, both heels planted firmly in his chest. Rocking back on the palms of her hands in the same moment, she kicked him off and landed to her feet in a practiced movement.

The kick was enough to put some space between them; space that could easily be closed. She held her fists up, ready to strike him. Her eyes were wild, scared - before snapping back into the detachment of a practiced warrior. A soft exhale over parted lips. Maybe she’d struck a nerve. Or maybe the combat, playful and serious as she knew it, was over. The game had ended, and now it was time for her to get back to reality.

A flexing of her fingers. “You know I can’t go without that staff.” The ghost of her playful nature, a tentative testing of the waters between the two of them. “And I wouldn’t mind talking - you never asked.”

 

[Nouh_Bdee]

Kai reeled back from her kick, but he recovered quickly, bouncing on the balls of his feet, ready for their next exchange. But, at the worlds ‘you never asked’, he deflated. He hadn’t. They had shared a few words after their fights before, but he knew nothing about her. He didn’t know why she wanted the staff, or where she was from, or what she’d already stolen to gain the experience he could see in her.

He sat down on the floor, pulling his legs in. His arm stretched out to gesture for her to do the same. “You’re right,” he huffed. The look on his face was mostly resignation, but also interest. The idea that they could’ve just talked all this time made him feel ashamed, both of not having thought of it, and also of wanting it at all.

“Is that what the tea was for? To get me to try talking?”

He leaned back on one elbow, emotionally weary already from the rollercoaster their meeting had been so far. He took a deep breath, lungs filling with the woodfire-warmed air of the temple.

“I suppose it’s overdue. What has it been, eight? Nine years?”

He chuckled, low in the back of his throat. They’d never opened up to each other before, at least not verbally. The only real conversation they’d had was with their fists and feet.

“And I don’t even know your name.”

 

[Apollo Wilde]

She watched him sit, her only reaction, momentarily, was the slow raising of her right eyebrow. Soon enough, the relaxed set of her shoulders showed that she realized that the air had changed between them once again. A soft laugh, a tossing of her head to send the airy clouds of her hair away from her eyes.


“The tea is just tea,” she sank to the floor, kicking her legs out in front of her brazenly, before drumming her heels playfully against the polished wood. Was she a thief, or a child? Hard to tell. She put her hands back behind her, leaning back. The wood was slightly warm beneath her palms and perfectly smooth. Glancing down at her long fingers, she allowed herself to be lost, momentarily, in the red wood, the beauty of the temple around her. A soft sigh, before she actually laid all the way back down, folding her arms beneath her head. “The tea was just tea,” she repeated, before turning to her side so she could look at him. “It’s a gift. A. Gift.” The set of her brows and the small smile she wore drove home that she was not to be questioned. “Every year you’ve roundly beaten me, but rather than rat me out, toss me out, you always make sure that I’m okay before you send me on my way. I figured it was…beyond due time that I actually said thank you. Thief or not, I do have some sort of moral code. Despite what they might teach you here.” A wave around the room.


Propping herself up on her elbows, she rested her cheek on her fist. She studied him, taking in his features. The longer she looked at him, the more things seemed to unravel. He was human, clearly, but…there was something about his individual features. Two eyes, a nose, mouth - all perfectly normal. But maybe..a bit sharper? Finer? Not like that of a beautiful young man, but the features of a half-remembered deity. Her carefree attitude slipped - leaving the face of a calculating and intelligent woman behind. A small tilt of the head restored a sense of whimsy, and as quick as it’d come, the studied look was gone.


“I’m Lina,” she said, very simply, as if he’d asked the name of a city. And it was only when she said it that she realized, with some surprise, that she’d given him her actual name. “But you may know me as ‘The Shadow Thief,’ or ‘Moonlight Mask’, or, and I could be wrong about this one, ‘Bandit Slayer.’ Something like that. Depends on where I am. But I’m pretty sure those three names are the ones I hear around this part of the world.”


Maybe some of them would register to him - but probably not, as she thought of it. She’d kept her escapades at the temple strictly on a need to know basis. What that meant was only she, and apparently him, knew of her annual attacks. But the names would come with a certain amount of notoriety. One of the most notorious thieves out there, certainly, she was known to be able to clean out a king’s ransom in a matter of minutes, and, just as easily as she’d stolen, she’d dole out her booty to the poor, gold and jewels slipping through her fingers like water. A sort of ‘gentleman thief’, except, well, she was a woman, which still lead those who’d heard of her to underestimate her. A gentleman thief with a whispered of heart of gold, it was said. Or so she’d heard. She’d liked hearing some of the stories about herself - liked blowing on the sparks of minor stories until they blazed into the flames of tall tales. The more exaggerated her exploits, the easier it was for her to move around.





“And what’s your name?” She looked at him curiously, smiling. It would seem that the absurdity of their fights without so much as a proper introduction was beginning to sink in for her as well.

 

[Nouh_Bdee]

Kai listened, his face rotating through a selection of emotions. He was surprised that he believed her now when she said the tea was just tea. He was embarrassed that he’d assumed otherwise. His blush deepened when he learned it was a gift born out of gratitude. His lips broke into a warm smile when she told him her name. When she gave him her first alias, that smile took on a more amused tilt of the lips.

“Moonlight Mask is a good name. Sounds to me like it’s from one of those chivalric novels.” He swallowed. “I like Lina better, though. It reminds me you’re a person. I…”

Kai felt bad about questioning her motives. Of course tea could just be tea. “I think I forgot that, a little bit, tonight. I apologize.”

He couldn’t help but return her smile. This was nice, sitting with each other, talking like people who weren’t about to fight over a precious artifact.

“Kai’ori,” he answered, palm pressed to his chest. “Or just Kai.”

His eyes drifted to the room around them, the lesser artifacts on display for the pilgrims that might visit during the day, at least when the weather was a bit warmer. “It was an accident, that first year.” He hadn’t been sent to guard this area. The bishops trusted their magical defenses. “I couldn’t sleep, so I was just looking around, um, looking at all the things Samsara loves.”

Trying to see why the goddess loves them.

“That first year, I…” He bit his lower lip. “You fought so well, and there was one moment–you might not remember–I stumbled into a vase, and you caught it; put it back.”

He shook his head at the memory. What kind of thief cares about breaking something they didn’t come to steal?

“I couldn’t turn you in.”

 

[Apollo Wilde]

“ ‘Moonlight Mask’ is the one you like?” She laughed, not unkindly or teasing, but out of gentle disbelief as she let herself drop down to the floor, stretching her arms high overhead before returning to rest on her elbows. “Maybe so,” she added, in reference to his novel comment. “I don’t get to pick the names people give me. As long as it’s not ‘Queen of Asshole City,’ I’m fine, but I’m sure that one might be in circulation somewhere.”


A pause, then another easy smile. “If that’s the case, it’d be nice to be the queen of something!” A shuffle of her clothing as she let herself drop again, laying flat on her back and looking at the high ceilings of the temple. Incense smoke hovered in faint gray clouds before stretching up and vanishing into thin air. It was all a bit melancholy in its old beauty.


“Well,” a softer tone, as she slowly pulled herself up in a sitting position to face him, “It’s nice to finally meet you, Kai’ori.” The way his name flowed off of his tongue was as sweet as the tea she’d gifted him, and suddenly, the staff was so unimportant as to be completely forgotten as she looked at him. Really looked at him, now that things were still enough between the pair. It was hard not to watch the movements of his mouth as he spoke - and then, the worst.


A compliment.


Maybe not directly the type of compliment a girl would want to hear, but one that made her eyes widen in surprise, startled a strangled laugh out of her, and duck her head in sudden shyness. Like she was a teenager all over again.


He’s too good for this world, she thought, with a bit of regret. Not that he was too good to be a monk, or a monk-in-training, or whatever they were called, but because he, at that moment, was a tightened flower bud of innocence. The type of person that needed protecting because they were the light in an ever-darkening world.


“Well…” She had to pry her tongue loose from the roof of her mouth; distract herself by doodling wide circles on the smooth floor. “It would’ve been noisy if it’d dropped.” A meager attempt to deflect her own kindness. She hated being called out on when she did the ‘right’ thing; strange rules for a thief, but if people, on the whole, were just more considerate, well, maybe she wouldn’t be in this position. “Besides, someone spent a lot of time and energy on it. On all of this,” she waved a hand around the room, from the delicately carved pillars to the smooth floor beneath them. “I’m no potter. Probably never could be one. But I know love - I mean, craftmanship, when I see it.”


A heavy breath. In talking about the other artifacts, it reminded her why she was here. It seemed that a cloud passed over her face. “Kai’ori…I’ve got to get that staff. I’m sorry.” Said with true apology in her voice as she shifted herself up to a standing position. “I really don’t want to have to fight you for it.” A brightening of her face, that lent itself to that dashing half-smile of hers, “You could always come with me when I take it, you know. Could say you were overcome and I took you as a hostage. So the blame would be on me.” A quirking of that smile, an unspoken, c'mon, whaddya say?

 

[Nouh_Bdee]

Kai stood, brushing off his robes. His head felt clearer, like the evening had finally come back around to what he’d expected in the beginning. There was a mutual respect and curiosity between the two of them, maybe even an affection, but they were still going to have to fight.

“I can’t do that, Lina. I took oaths.” Even if he didn’t always understand the purpose of them–why protect artifacts that never see the light of day, never see any use?–he was a man of his word.

He had to smile a little, though. He’d have asked the same thing.

“Still won’t tell me what you want it for, huh?” A click of his tongue. “Ah well, maybe someday.”

He bounced on the balls of his feet, ready with his long arms and legs to keep her at a distance, and subdue her once an opportunity presented itself. So be it. History would repeat itself. He idly wondered what kind of soup the kitchen had by the fire for the night.

 

[Apollo Wilde]

Well, I tried.


Not that it wasn’t fun to imagine whisking away the strangely attractive novice away, but he was, as she’d initially thought, too good for this world. Of course his vows would keep him from humoring her offer.


“Ah ah ah,” she waved a finger at him, remnants of their earlier banter. So they were back at the starting line. Why had that bothered her a bit? “You never directly asked why I wanted the staff. And even if you had, I can’t tell you. But I’ll tell you this much,” the last was said with a huff as she started to inch back towards the door. She’d purposely put herself so that her back was to it – a slight advantage, but she was going to take every inch of ground she could get. “It’s not for sale. Once I get it, that is.” A cheeky wink to seal off her sentence, and she was dashing for the door.

Of course she wouldn’t make it.

Not for lack of trying. Flurries of movement, the occasional tangle of limbs that saw either her or him plummet to the ground temporarily, the soft grunts and exhalations of dodging and returning blows – never stopping, not even to wipe sweat out of her eyes. In many respects, it felt that the entirety of her year always culminated in her attempts to steal the staff: her opponent, like her, got better each year, and she was constantly having to think on her feet. She had to ignore the screaming in her taxed limbs, the painful burn in her lungs, the way that it was getting harder to breathe from sheer exertion. But something kept her going – the burning in her chest, the knowledge that she had to get that staff. Desperation, maybe? Had they crossed a line by introducing themselves?


No matter. Flinging herself free from the powerful clutch of his arms, she launched herself at the door, the force of her body colliding with it helping in her effort to open it. This was officially the furthest she’d ever gotten – this close, she couldn’t give up. Each year before this one had been leading up to this, this shining moment –


Of absolutely nothing.


The inner chamber was open, but rather than the Staff, shining from the small shrine that had been built within the inner chamber to hold it, there was empty space.


“What..?!” No sooner had she spoken the words that her face was slammed into the floor – she’d been tackled from behind by the young novice, her breath leaving her in a rush of hot air. Her brain rattling about in her skull, stars danced before her eyes, and she blinked hard. No matter how her vision shimmered, wavered around the corners of her eyes, it didn’t change the fact that the Staff was gone.


Or that the warmth of Kai’ori on top of her was far more pleasant than she wanted to admit to herself.

 

[Nouh_Bdee]

Not sell the staff? Then what did she want with it? What kind of thief is after anything other than a big payout? He’s so confused by her that he’s slow to react when she gets up, and then his grip is loose, and she manages to fling open the door. Before he can process the contents of the room, or lack thereof, his body throws itself at her. Something of her softness and curves hits the back of his mind before he’s busy pinning her to the ground.

“Well, at least you get to see it this ti–”

He’s sitting up on her back now, staring slack-jawed at the empty shrine. “What…?!”

It’s never been anywhere else. Like all the artifacts, there’s no reason it should be moved or taken down. That shrine, right in front of them, is where it goes!

“What did you do? How did you…how did you take it?”

His hand grips her shoulder, roughly presses it into the floor.

“Where is it?! Where is the staff!?”

There just wasn’t any other explanation that he could think of, and he cursed the part of him that wanted to find one, that wanted to trust Lina, that wanted to believe everything she’d said. How could he have been so gullible?

He stood up and reached down to grab her ankle, dragging her back through the door, for once not caring very much if she got hurt.

“I believed you!” he shouted, before his voice dropped to a cold whisper. “What a fool I’ve been…”

 

[Apollo Wilde]

“Gah!” It was a muffled squawk, indignant as it was pained. The pain, thankfully, was more from the suddenness of how he slammed her shoulder into the ground. It was enough to rattle sense into her; turn this from potentially fun roughhousing in which they both knew the rules to to a sense of fear. Her life was now on the line, and she was going to fight like it.


No sooner as he grasped her ankle that she was twisting in his grasp, rolling from her side to her back. Her ankle slipped free, a combination of deft skill and some pain on her part, but adrenaline kept her going. Free from him, she rocked back, kicking herself deftly to her feet, and was launching herself at him. Gone was the easy-going nature, replaced by the sudden chill of those merry eyes. Fists parried - then he would be unable to move. She’d grasped both of his fists in her open palms, her right leg between his, her left prepared to sweep him off his feet. From the way she held her head, it was clear that she hadn’t ruled out the possibility of head-butting him as well.


“I didn’t steal the staff,” she growled at him, from between clenched teeth. This close, he could see that her canines were a bit longer than usual. No vampiric strength or any other indication of magic blood; perhaps a fluke of genetics. “Where in the world would I have put it? Why would I bother coming back to the scene of the crime? To taunt you?!” Her patience exhausted, she indeed swept him with the left leg, effectively tripping him as she let go of his hands, letting him slam into the temple floor.


“I thought monks were supposed to be smart,” she half-way muttered under her breath. She had bigger problems than an uppity monk now. The staff was gone - and no matter how she tried to look at it, it was bad news all over.

 

[Nouh_Bdee]

Kai could feel the thud of his back hitting the floor as well as hear it. Why was it so hard for him this time to keep his head clear? This strategy of hers, giving him tea, however she’d gotten the staff, it was all working. And far too well. He needed to change something, to reset himself.

The staff was gone, and he needed to get it back, but he couldn’t just rush her. That wasn’t working, at least it hadn’t so far tonight. His head spun as he lay there on the floor, his eyes scanning, looking for where she might run to if she decided to bolt.

He huffed, and slowly rolled to get his hands underneath him. His movements were smooth and deliberate, letting her know he wasn’t about to attack. Not yet. His eyes, though; all the warmth had gone out of them. His jaw was clenched. Of course she was still trying to work him: come up with excuses to explain how she couldn’t’ve taken it, call him dumb for suspecting her. He couldn’t let himself fall for it.

“I’m not a thief. Like you. I don’t know how this works.” His eyes bore into her. His demeanor had changed. He wasn’t pacing, wasn’t shouting, wasn’t waving his arms. He was colder, more intensely focused. That rage and panic were still there, just under the surface; bottled up. His fingers were shaking, barely perceptible, the only clue that he might still lose control.

“I don’t know if you had help, or what, but however you got it…” He brushed off his robes, muscles tensed. “...you’ll eventually have it in your hands. So, I’m not letting you out of my sight.”

 

[Apollo Wilde]

“As bad as this is for you, this is a million, no, an infinite amount of times worse for me!” She was having none of his temper – not when the fires of her own had barely begun to rise. She punctuated her words with a sharp slashing motion of her hand, unafraid to close the gap between the two of them. “Because, rest assured, Kai’ori, if I had the staff, and somehow managed to sneak it out of here, avoiding you and all of the other traps in this temple, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.” She was close enough to jab a thin finger into his chest - which was just what she did as a definitive period on the end of her last sentence.



“Use. Your. Brain.” Growled out between clenched teeth. “You know this room better than anyone here: is there any other way in or out, besides through you?!” Waving her arms through the expanse of the small shrine, she glowered at him. Her rage was unlike his: it bubbled over, hot and immersive, on the edge of hysterics. Fear colored her reaction, more than she was willing to admit to herself, let alone anyone else. Before the final dam could snap, suddenly, she turned from him, putting her back to him. Her movements, once so smooth and sure, had a neurotic twitchiness to them, a desperate need to find where, how, the staff could’ve been spirited away, and how long ago it’d happened.



No footprints, no dust. A pause, a deep inhalation. Incense, sweat – the slightly stale air of a room that didn’t get much airing out and no sunlight. Nothing like the bitterness of gunpowder. She knelt before the altar where the staff usually sat, squinting as she leaned over as close as she could without touching anything. Holding her breath, she continued to peer around the finely carved stone, the highly polished wood of the cradle of the staff.



If it was them, they wouldn’t resist leaving a calling card. Wouldn’t take the smallest opportunity to rub this in my face –



Realizing that the only sound she’d heard was the thrumming of her heartbeat in her ears, she turned to face the young monk again. “What are you doing just standing there? If you’re not going to let me out of your sight, then you can help me by turning this room upside down for any sort of hint!”

 

[Nouh_Bdee]

If Kai thought too hard about what Lina was saying, he might start to wonder if she was right. He might start to relax, to cut her some slack, and he couldn’t let himself do that. “You’re the only one here. You’re the only one who ever comes for the staff,” he growled. Looking at her face, he knew she was about to ridicule him again. He didn’t buy it, but that didn’t mean he wanted to listen to it.

“In any case, believe what you want and I’ll do the same.” There, some appeasement for her. He didn’t mind pretending to be open-minded if it got her to drop her guard. He started looking around the room, keeping an eye on her at the same time. “If you want me to look for clues, I’ll look for clues.” He didn’t want her to drop her guard too much, though. Not so much that she decided to try anything. “Just don’t think that means I’m gonna let you out of my sight.”

He tried to keep an eye on her as he searched the room, conceding the point in his head that the search was a good idea. Maybe she’d left behind some clue when she took the staff? Or her compatriot had when they took it? Either way, it was worth looking around. Who knows what he wou–

There was a slip of paper, one corner tucked under a priceless vase. Kai didn’t like the idea of even touching the vase, but there was no way that piece of paper had been there before. He held his breath while he tilted the vase, freeing the slip of paper, which he gently moved out of the way before lowering the vase carefully back to rest on its stand. Finally, he let himself breathe.

The paper was a note, but it didn’t make any sense to him. He recognized most of the letters, and even a word or two. If it was some other language, why wasn’t all of it unintelligible to him?

He stomped over to Lina, holding up the note like it was proof of her betrayal. “What is this, Lina? What does it even say?”

 

[Apollo Wilde]

She was too infuriated, too frightened, to give too much of his attitude a second thought. Otherwise, she might’ve really let him have it.



Still, her attempts to search for any kind of clue kept her busy enough to not be too concerned with his eyes burning into her. Only an idiot wouldn’t be able to feel that glare.



Does he legitimately think that I have the staff hidden? When could I have come in? Is he stuck in here all the time? Or does he just come creeping round here waiting for me because I show up after dark?



A pause. She stopped in her tracks, looking over her shoulder at him. He was looking, surreptitiously, at her, as she was looking at him. With the way his eyes were narrowed, she had to bite back a laugh. He looked like an angry toddler. The stomping didn’t help, and she had to bite the inside of her cheek, hard, in order to keep somewhat of a straight face as she took the scrap of paper from him. She glanced at it, wanting to toss it aside as something silly - but she ended up snatching it from him, her expression darkening.



“It’s Thieves Argot,” her tone both incredulous and condescending, “Of course you wouldn’t be able to read it. And it’s proof that I didn’t steal the staff.” All of the irritation and bravado left her in a long sigh, her shoulders slumping. It was just as bad as she thought - if not worse.



“Come here,” she looped an arm around his shoulders, pulling him close to her. He smelled of smoke and incense powder, as ancient and as well-kept as the temple they were in. “It’s a mix of a bunch of common languages.” That was as much explanation as she was going to give - before she pointed at the first sentence. “This says that someone else took the Staff - someone from a rival thieves guild. And they’re the one you’ve got to worry about. He sells to the highest bidder,” and she grimaced. “You recognize this word, right?” She pointed to one in the middle of the sentence, “ ‘Take’, right? You get the picture.”



She let go of him, the piece of paper still caught between her fingers. “Hellfire,” came her low growl. There was no telling when he’d been able to slip in - and if this monk had spent all of his time more or less waiting for her, that meant that he was able to slip in without anyone being none the wiser. “When was the last time that there were a group of pilgrims here? The last group for the day?”