collapse

* Welcome!

* Important Links

* Chat Box

Guest Friendly. No advertising please.

* BR Councils

* COTM and TOTM

* Affliates

Affiliate with Us

Blood Rites RPG

Listed At

RPG Directory Nerd Listings

Our Affiliates

Spiraling
The Games Maelstrom Into The Abyss
Forever Night

* Credits

RSS Feed  Facebook  Tumblr    E-Mail

Canon: © Anne Bishop
Board's Plot: Blood Rites
Points Scheme: Mother Night
Ratio System: Blood Rites

Blood Rites best viewed in Firefox.
Established February 2010
by Jamie, Gina & Bowie.


* Plot Information for Pruul

Seven children are destined to save Pruul and shake the traditions of the territory to their very core. In response, factions have broken the peace of a previously unified territory and violence has erupted across the dessert. It is a battle between the past and the future, the young and the old, and blood won’t stop seeping into the sand.
Culture of Pruul
Court of Pruul
Naming Conventions
Clans and Tribes
Pre-Purge History

* Welcome Guests

You are currently viewing our forum as a Guest. While you can see all we do, you can't participate. Please think about joining, we love new players. Click Here for more information.


Author Topic: Not Enough Room For You and Me  (Read 298 times)

Description: Attn: Lucky

Offline Omid al-Bali

  • Character Account
    • opal2red
    • prince
    • Faction

      Clan Bali

    • Territory

      Pruul

    • Character Sheet

      [Link]

    • OOC

      Gavin

    • Posts

      125

    • Those who survive prophecy forge their own path.

    • View Profile
Not Enough Room For You and Me
« on: Oct 09, 17, 10:37:46 PM »
Onn- Summer 192

Omid had dreaded this day.

When Omid received word that Lucky was looking for him, he knew that he couldn’t put it off any longer. Looking back, the coming of the Rains was a major event in their lives but it wasn’t the point where their lives had changed irrevocably. No, that night had come and gone during their Offering. Omid stared down at his Red. Months removed from what he believed would be the final nights of his life, Omid still had no idea why he’d received the Red. He still stayed up, late into the night, studying and learning, trying to understand why he’d been chosen to bear this particular burden.

Only the presence of his Queen quelled his fear.

Omid ate breakfast that morning and dressed in loose tan breeches and a loose shirt, rehearsing his words in his mind. He had an inkling of what Lucky would discuss with him, but Omid needed to get his news out, needed to tell Lucky what was happening before his brother got too far into the discussion. He expected yelling. He expected anger. But Omid was confident that if he and Lucky talked it out, they would come to an agreement that everyone understood.

He was approaching the Lucky’s location when he stopped in his tracks. Perhaps he should call for the others. Lucky’s ire was easy to raise, but he tended to control himself for Roshan, Hadjara, and Khadijah. Zahira might speak up for Omid, but the others would keep Lucky from losing his temper too quickly. Omid dismissed the thought.

I will not hide behind our sisters. Lucky and I are men. We will account for ourselves and behave as such.

Omid knocked at Lucky’s door and stepped back to await his brother’s permission to enter. Walking into a Warlord Prince’s space uninvited, regardless of familiar ties, was to court death.

Lucky, it’s me. I need to talk to you.



Offline Lucky al-Izar

  • Character Account
    • pd2sapphire
    • wp
    • Role

      Mineborn

    • Territory

      Pruul

    • Character Sheet

      [Link]

    • OOC

      Kenna

    • Posts

      251

    • View Profile
Re: Not Enough Room For You and Me
« Reply #1 on: Oct 10, 17, 12:08:44 PM »
Lucky had plans for the al-Izar.

It had taken him months, but through research and reading—two of the things he hated most in this world—he had formulated a path forward for his small family. Much to his dismay, it did not include bloodshed or open war, but he was trying to think of something his siblings would approve of as well. Such sacrifices had to be made for the greater good, he supposed.

Stepping back from the large wall opposite his window, the Warlord Prince took in the paper strung up from floor to ceiling. He had ripped out the most important pages of the books he had read and pasted them up, formulating a small charter of mismatched advice for the radical alteration to Pruulian culture he planned to suggest. In the center of the smattering of paper was a large hand-drawn image of a twisted tree with golden leaves spread high to the sky. The Prince had used string to connect the tree to key moments in Pruulian history. It all made sense to Lucky, but Omid could sort most of this out later, make it more readable than the haphazard mosaic the Mineborn had created. He was better with words than all of them.

As if his thoughts had called his brother, the male knocked, polite as ever. Normally the Warlord Prince might have made fun of him, commented about how he might wear the Red, but he knocked like a pussy. But he was far too excited for such banter. “Come in! I was just looking for you.” Lucky grabbed Omid by the shoulders and turned him to face the smattering of information. “I think I have finally figured out a way to give us a real place in Pruul. Something that is ours, that we can shape and grow as a family. I did some research…” He paused, clearly wanting some praise from his brother. “…and discovered there is a ritual to create new Clans in Pruul.” He beamed at Omid, slapping him on the back with excitement.
 
“What do you think? You are the first person I've told!”

Offline Omid al-Bali

  • Character Account
    • opal2red
    • prince
    • Faction

      Clan Bali

    • Territory

      Pruul

    • Character Sheet

      [Link]

    • OOC

      Gavin

    • Posts

      125

    • Those who survive prophecy forge their own path.

    • View Profile
Re: Not Enough Room For You and Me
« Reply #2 on: Oct 10, 17, 05:32:52 PM »
Lucky’s excitement always gave Omid pause. The things that Lucky enjoyed, a lot of times, were things that other people would find unsettling. Omid tried to give his brother the benefit of the doubt. Since the Rains had come and gone, it seemed that Lucky was attempting to be more studious and thoughtful. He’d heard rumors of Lucky reading and researching actual books, things Omid had hoped Lucky would learn to, if not enjoy, then at least not hate. He truly wanted to see Lucky better himself and move beyond the pain of what happened to him in the mines.

They all needed to move forward, one way or the other.

I think I’ve finally figured out a way to give us a real place in Pruul...

Omid’s brows raised. That sentence could me a lot of different things. Rather than comment immediately, Omid listened and hoped for elaboration.

Something that is ours, that we can shape and grow as a family…

Guilt slipped between his ribs like a blade. I should stop him. I should tell him the truth right now. But Omid saw the excitement in Lucky’s eyes, heard the hope in his voice. Lucky didn’t smile unless he was threatening someone. Or hurting someone. Or getting ready to hurt someone. Omid almost spoke but it was the hope in brother’s voice that stole his courage.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d heard Lucky filled with anything like hope, or optimism. Not even before the Rains.

Omid remained quiet.

I did some research…and discovered there is a ritual to create new Clans in Pruul.

Omid blinked.

He didn’t speak right away. His eyes scanned the various pages of information that Lucky had hung on the wall like a child’s drawings. Omid quietly mourned the number of books his brother had destroyed for this masterpiece. He hoped that none of the books were irreplaceable history tomes, or Lucky would have just destroyed Pruulian history in his excitement. Omid called upon his Craft, stringing together a sentence here, a phrase there, a picture elsewhere as he organized the facts and data in his mind. Lucky was definitely onto something here, haphazard as it was. If the proper steps were followed and the right permissions granted...then perhaps there was a way to create a new clan.

But Omid also saw all of the issues inherent there in.

I think...I think we should consider this deeply, Lucky. This isn’t something we can just wave a hand and bring into being. There are steps involved. There’s ritual and precedent that need to be followed here. If anything is out of order, we’d be violating Pruulian doctrine and insulting every clan in the Territory.” Omid said.

We weren’t exactly beloved before all of this started, if you remember.” Omid said, jesting to take some of the sting out of his words. This was important to Lucky. He wanted everyone to be part of this, so it hurt Omid be the realist and douse the flames.

What would our customs be? What would our Trials of Adulthood look like? We brought the Rains, Lucky, but seven children born in darkness can’t exactly tell other people how to live.” Omid said.

Have you thought about petitioning the other clans? Lord Abulurd offered us a place. I hear that you and Lady Jinan get along well. We should be thinking about how to blend in, Lucky.

Haven’t we stood out, stood apart, long enough?
” Omid asked, looking to his brother. 



Offline Lucky al-Izar

  • Character Account
    • pd2sapphire
    • wp
    • Role

      Mineborn

    • Territory

      Pruul

    • Character Sheet

      [Link]

    • OOC

      Kenna

    • Posts

      251

    • View Profile
Re: Not Enough Room For You and Me
« Reply #3 on: Oct 12, 17, 11:18:49 PM »
Lucky bounced in place, gesturing wildly with his arms. Not even Omid’s questions could bring him down off of his high. He had put a lot of work into this plan, more effort than he had exhorted for almost anything else. That is how badly he wanted a safe place for his family. A place where they could be themselves, with their rules, beholden to no one but each other. “That’s why I wanted to talk to you. I couldn’t think of a better person to wade through all the shit-dull Protocol than you.” Lucky gave him a toothy grin and then went over to the wall, pointing to various pieces of information as he spoke.

“That’s just it! We can make our customs, our trials, our lives how we want. Hadjara can lay out the customs for Offerings. Roshan and Khadi can help set up the Trials. Fuck. I’ll even help come up with the customs.” He chuckled, a genuine laugh. “Starting with eliminating the fucking bowing. It grates on me every time. I don’t know them. I give a shit about them about as much as Roshan’s ass. Oh wait...I do rather care about that.” He winked at Omid and the papers blew gently against the wall. The tree in the middle of the research stood out starkly, the key to the Pruulian Clan ritual. Lucky was still looking into it, but it appeared the original Queen that created the Clans had each of them plant a seedling in the Vaya Temple, waiting to see if it sprouted.

The Warlord Prince was sure Omid would be able to decipher the rest. 

“We have only begun to stand out, Omid. Don’t you see? We spent the last four years trying to blend in. Become part of the Sabbah. But it didn’t work. We aren’t like the rest of Pruul. They are the past. We are the future. ” The Rains had washed away more than the desperate thirst of the territory. They had also cleaned the slate in Lucky’s eyes. “Have you taken a look outside? There are hundreds of people camped there, even still, with the clouds long gone from the sky. They won’t leave. They have left their Clans. They are waiting for…something. For us. To lead them. To guide them. Fuck if I know. Why don’t we give them that? Create a new Clan. Let them join us. At least this way when I tell them to get the fuck out of my way they will have to listen.” Kitten pranced across the floor, snuggling against Omid’s side.

“After I destroyed the Sabbah residence Kesare had me visit the clinic where people were being treated. I guess she thought it might make me give a fuck.” Lucky rolled his eyes, his hands flexing outward. He played the encounter off, but seeing children look up at him with fear had been unsettling, even for him. “There were people outside the clinic that were turned away. Street rats. Former slaves. The poor. People just like us, without a home. I was thinking, and don’t you dare tell anyone this was my idea or I’ll bleed you slow, but what if we helped them? If we extended an invitation to the pussies sitting out in the sun outside and those that have no where else to go, we would have enough to pass the threshold for a Clan.”

He paused, staring his brother right in the eyes.

“Think about it. The al-Izar.”

The word sent a shiver down Lucky’s spine. “Everyone would have a place. Ghanima could lead the Clan if she wished. Roshan could guide us with her Webs. Hadjara could do the Offerings or whatever the hell a Priestess does. Zahira could tend to our wounded. I could lead our guard. And you could tie us all together, weaving the entire history and culture of our Clan from scratch. I figured you would get all excited about that boring part that you would do that thing where you can’t speak because your brain is going too fast for words.” He beamed at Omid.

"It makes you look like a fucking idiot, but I like it."

Offline Omid al-Bali

  • Character Account
    • opal2red
    • prince
    • Faction

      Clan Bali

    • Territory

      Pruul

    • Character Sheet

      [Link]

    • OOC

      Gavin

    • Posts

      125

    • Those who survive prophecy forge their own path.

    • View Profile
Re: Not Enough Room For You and Me
« Reply #4 on: Oct 13, 17, 12:09:53 AM »
Lucky’s speech was always coarse, always filled with profanity and insults for anyone outside the Mineborn. Sometimes even with insults for the Mineborn sprinkled in. Normally, Omid could ignore it, set it aside and just deal with Lucky’s words and ideas for what they were. He wanted to build a clan for their family and invite others to join it. He mentioned how they tried to be part of the Sabbah and failed. He talked about how he didn’t care about anything, except Roshan’s ass (Omid would not agree with Lucky aloud, but he did agree) and how he wanted their family to offer membership to the unfortunates and outcasts of Pruul to populate the the new Clan Izar.

He sighed and smiled sadly at Lucky.

Pussies? Shit-dull Protocol?” Omid asked, his tone bemused while he looked at Lucky. Did Lucky hear himself? Did he care about how he sounded? He took a deep breath and hoped that he could make Lucky understand him.

You have no obligation to anyone other than yourself.

Rania’s echoed in Omid’s mind. He wore the Red. He was free of the mines. They’d brought the Rains and given Pruul its miracle. Why did they need to lead anyone? Why did they need to stand out any more than they always had? Lucky wanted them to belong to each other, but Omid already belonged somewhere else.

You can't lead other people when you think so little of them, Lucky. A group of people doesn’t make a clan. Traditions make a clan. Common bonds and a sense of a community make a clan. You’ve outlined how all of us would lead this clan, Lucky, but...we don’t even know who we are yet.” Omid said, trying to explain himself.

How can we be the future of Pruul if you’re so set on leaving the past behind? The future is built on today, which will be yesterday tomorrow.” Omid said.

Maybe….maybe in fifty years we can think about this. We have time to learn more, to see more, to live our lives wtheway we want to, Lucky. We’re finally free. We can be anything we want. We survived Adramelech.

We survived the mines.

We brought the Rains to Pruul. Don’t you want to explore what all of that means?
” Omid asked.

But he could see, just from Lucky’s expression, that this was what Lucky wanted. He wanted to bind them together for good. Omid turned back to the wall, looking at the information Lucky had gathered. Once upon a time, Omid thought that being in a clan with his siblings was the only thing he ever wanted. He still wanted it with everything inside of him.

He just wanted to do it the right way.

I can’t do this, Lucky.” Omid said. “I can’t join you.

Omid took a deep breath and steeled himself, took a deep breath and drew upon the strength offered by his jewels.

I found my Queen, Lucky. I can't join you in this.” Omid said.



Offline Lucky al-Izar

  • Character Account
    • pd2sapphire
    • wp
    • Role

      Mineborn

    • Territory

      Pruul

    • Character Sheet

      [Link]

    • OOC

      Kenna

    • Posts

      251

    • View Profile
Re: Not Enough Room For You and Me
« Reply #5 on: Oct 21, 17, 01:08:48 PM »
Lucky cocked his head.

“I know who I am, Omid.”

The Warlord Prince stared at him, his green-gold eyes never wavering. Lucky had gone through a year of sessions with Kesare, a year of digging deep into his wounds and re-living the pain, water seeping from his eyes. A year of understanding that letting people in, allowing his family close, was not going to hurt him. “The bastard that kidnapped me tried to break me, tear me down, and I’ve been building myself back up ever since then, piece by piece. I am a weapon. A warrior. A brother. A prophet. And now, a builder.”

They would craft their own festivals, their own Protocol, remaking the traditions that had brought so much misery to his siblings these past years. “I know you read and think a fuck ton more than me, but one thing I’ve learned from actually living is that you never really know who you are, because you are always changing, so why let that limit you now?” They could discover the rest of their lives together. Safe. Happy. Whole.

“What bigger common bond do we have then our own? I could feel you since my very first memory, laughing with Cadence, your joy at playing music. We were meant to do this together. I can feel it.” Omid and Lucky were some of the older Mineborn and their Darkness granted connection went back to the beginning, to the times Lucky had curled up in the crevasse of a rock and cried. To the time he made his first kill, the ecstasy of blood running through his fingers. To the time he bonded with Ghanima, his heart breaking into two pieces and his life irrevocably altered. And now to the joy of binding hands and bringing the Rains and their future to Pruul.

But then Omid rejected him. Rejected everything.

“What?”

Lucky’s eyes narrowed, his hands curling into balled fists, as he circled around his brother, taking a long breath of his scent, as if he could smell this Queen on him. The temperature grew in the room like a tea cattle about to sound. The armband on the Warlord Prince's upper arm grew white hot, signaling the need for Lucky to take a deep breath.

Something he did not fucking do. 

“What does finding your Queen have to do with not joining me? You are my brother. Mineborn.”

Mine.

Offline Omid al-Bali

  • Character Account
    • opal2red
    • prince
    • Faction

      Clan Bali

    • Territory

      Pruul

    • Character Sheet

      [Link]

    • OOC

      Gavin

    • Posts

      125

    • Those who survive prophecy forge their own path.

    • View Profile
Re: Not Enough Room For You and Me
« Reply #6 on: Oct 21, 17, 09:09:34 PM »
Omid knew that Lucky would be angry. He responded to every threat, every disappointment, every pain endured with anger. He was a Warlord Prince; the rage in Lucky’s heart rarely let him respond to perceived threats with any reaction other than cold-blooded fury. It was a risky thing to come here and tell Lucky that he’d found his Queen, that he could not be part of Lucky’s dream to make the Children of the Hidden into a true Clan of Pruul. But Omid knew that he had to tell his brother before he learned some other way, a way that Omid could not control.

Tell him the truth. He will endure, as will you.

Lucky talked about what he’d learned from living, insinuating that Omid had not done the same. Omid didn’t bother correcting him. Lucky would believe as he desired until the truth was spoken.

No, Lucky. This is your path, my friend. And I wish you well in its pursuit. If the Izar can truly become a clan, I would see it happen. I believe there is great work that can be done when all of the clans of Pruul work together.” Omid said.

As I said before, I cannot join you.” Omid said, turning to face Lucky once more. He did not look Lucky directly in the eyes, instead noting the ribbon on his arm. It was a crutch, a weakness that Omid sighted upon without intending. So many triggers for his rage, but he still needed to measurement for it, rather than trusting his own thoughts and feelings to guide the way. Omid remembered that self-doubt, how crippling it could be.

He was glad to be free of it.

I found my Queen among Clan Bali, Lucky. Her name is Zaerah al-Bali, whom you know as the Queen of Clan Bali. I used to envy you, whenever you talked about Ghanima and the bond between you. I didn’t understand it, no matter how you explained it. There was no way I could. You cannot explain the sky to a blind man. You could never explain your wings to me, how it feels to have them, because I can’t fly and never will.” Omid said.

But now I do. I understand why you were ready to risk your life, as well as ours, to save her from Adramelech. I understand the sins you’d commit if she asked, because I’d do the same for my lady.” Omid said softly.

I did a lot of thinking after I woke, after we brought the Rains. We were, and are, fortunate to be alive. We should all be dead, Lucky. But we lived. Now that we live...we survived the prophecy. We survived the darkness we were born to and we survived Adramelech al-Sabbah’s attempts to control our lives. We’re survivors. That is a bond that will never be broken between the seven of us.” Omid said, now turning his gaze upon Lucky once more, green eyes flecked with gold measuring the Warlord Prince once more as he stood before him.

But we owe ourselves and each other the right to explore our lives as we choose. To that end, I have spent the last few months taking that first step.” Omid said, taking a deep breath.

He conjured his khanjar, the short sword wrought in gold along the hilt and the scabbard. Newly added to the scabbard in golden paint was the symbol of a clan that Lucky knew well enough: an open palm that brought food to the mouth in order to swallow. Omid held the blade reverently in both hands to show Lucky, but would vanish it without preamble if Lucky even looked like he might try to touch it.
His khanjar was sacred to him, as scared as his own water.

I went to Lord Abulurd and asked him to administer my Trial. I spent thirty days in the Great Desert without my books, my Jewels, or even my Craft, learning just how sheltered we’ve all been, Lucky. Do you even know what’s going on out there? Do you know what we’ve brought down on the people out there because of the Rains? I do.” Omid said.

When I returned, Lord Abulurd bade me to answer a single question and I did. My khanjar is proof of my success, Lucky. My name is now Omid al-Bali, son of the Clan Bali. I know this will hurt you. That was never my intent, Lucky. I wanted you to hear this from me directly.

I want all of you to hear it from me first. I started with you, but you’re not the first person I’ve told.
” Omid said.

He took a deep breath.

That’s why I can’t join you. I hope you can understand this someday.” Omid said, for he knew Lucky well enough to know that this would wound him deeply for months, maybe even years, to come.

But you’re strong, Lucky. You will endure.



Offline Lucky al-Izar

  • Character Account
    • pd2sapphire
    • wp
    • Role

      Mineborn

    • Territory

      Pruul

    • Character Sheet

      [Link]

    • OOC

      Kenna

    • Posts

      251

    • View Profile
Re: Not Enough Room For You and Me
« Reply #7 on: Oct 23, 17, 10:34:13 PM »
Lucky could feel it coming. Round and round. The storm. His anger. A small cyclone that danced in the desert before it’s winds embedded sand into flesh. “I did not risk my life and the lives of our family because Ghanima was my Queen, you idiot. I did it because she was my family. Queens only hurt you, leave you, fuck you. And not with their pussy. You give to them and they rip your heart away.” His words were just as raw as Lucky felt, the family he clung too for purpose slipping through his fingers like sand.

“We do not have a bond because we are fucking survivors, Omid, we have a bond from birth. Don’t lie to yourself.”

Then the world stilled.

And it spun. Around and around, the light casting off Omid’s khanjar and spilling onto the floor, like spoiled milk. One second. Two. Memories caught up in the gathering storm—Omid teaching Lucky to read, the Warlord Prince correcting his brother’s fighting stance, the two laughing as the music hummed in the air. Around and around they went, Lucky caught in the middle, motionless, his mouth partially agape. The plans he had made, the two of them, the only males—his only brother—protecting their family until their flesh shriveled and the sand rolled over their bones, still clasped, hand in hand.

Instead, Lucky was all alone now. Who would protect Khadi, Rosham, Z, Hadjara, and Ghanima? He could not do it all alone.

Alone.

Omid thought he was forging a new path, but he was really just running away from the one he had hardly started.

And with that, Lucky moved, a shield reflexively wrapped tight around him

While Omid read each day, the Warlord Prince had been training. Every morning, every lunch, every night. His muscles were tightly coiled and his reflexes were far faster than the lower castes. His Craft enhanced fist slammed into Omid’s head and while the Prince was dazed, Lucky slammed him first into a wall—and then through it.

Dust bloomed upward in large clouds as the brothers fell into the outside street together, Lucky straddling Omid. 

Alone.

“You gave up your family for a fucking bitch?!” Lucky shook him violently, his hand clenched tightly into his shirt. “You are leaving us for some whore that will do nothing but use you? How could you? After everything we have been through, you are deserting us?” Rage spiraled through him. Rage he hadn’t felt since he had attacked Kesare on the roof. Sweet killing rage that threatened to engulf him, send him hurtling towards the Killing Edge. The glorious red place where blood flowed like water. Life-sustaining. Nourishing.

Alone.

“WE ARE YOUR FAMILY. Not some ancient fuck and his cockrest. You can't have two.” The name Omid spewed from his lips made Lucky want to knock out every one of his teeth and use them to carve the fuckers real name into his chest: OMID AL-IZAR.

“I don’t even know you anymore.” He snarled, spit flying into the Prince’s face.

Alone.

“You aren’t my brother.”

Offline Omid al-Bali

  • Character Account
    • opal2red
    • prince
    • Faction

      Clan Bali

    • Territory

      Pruul

    • Character Sheet

      [Link]

    • OOC

      Gavin

    • Posts

      125

    • Those who survive prophecy forge their own path.

    • View Profile
Re: Not Enough Room For You and Me
« Reply #8 on: Oct 23, 17, 11:36:35 PM »
It doesn’t matter why you did it, Lucky. What matters is that we didn’t defeat Adramelech. We were fortunate. Because your plan failed and we all nearly got killed anyway. If Zahira hadn’t woken Ghanima, we’d be dead. If Lord Fin hadn’t split the Sabbah by standing against Adramelech, then Rania, Cadence, and a lot of other people would be dead, too.

All because we followed you, even when we knew it was a bad idea.
” Omid said, vanishing his khanjar as he shook his head.

You’re right, we’re bonded together because of how we were born. But Zahira was right, too. None of us chose it. None of us have been in control of our own lives since the day we were born! If it wasn’t the Geiba, it was the Sabbah!

So forgive me, brother, if I wanted a life that wasn’t controlled by someone else for once. That includes you.
” Omid said, feeling his own anger rise. He took several deep breaths and forced himself to calm down. Getting angry would only make Lucky angry. If Lucky got angry, this whole thing would go to hell in a hurry.

Omid sensed it, sensed it the way one senses the change in the wind just before the rain starts. Lucky’s rage was a terrifying thing, even for a Warlord Prince. Most Warlord Princes had had the basic training to know when and where to unleash their cold rage upon their enemies. Lucky, however, considered nearly everyone an enemy so he had few qualms about attacking anyone who displeased him, anyone who spoke against him, anyone who told him no.

You can’t punch people into your way of thinking, Lucky.

Clearly, his brother hadn’t listened anything he’d ever said.

The punch caught Omid off-guard, spinning him around and making him stars. He tasted blood, more blood than he’d ever tasted in his life. He barely managed to get his shield in place before Lucky slammed into and through the wall with force that would’ve shattered his spine. Omid hit the ground and tried to get up, tried to get back to his feet, but Lucky was straddling him, shaking him like some rag doll while blood poured his face.

"You gave up your family for a fucking bitch?"

Anger blood in Omid’s chest. Lucky called his Queen a bitch, knowing damned well he’d eviscerate anyone who even looked at Ghanima wrong. Anyone who disrespected Hadjara, Khadi, or Roshan would be strangled with their own entrails.

Yet he had the temerity to call Zaehrah, who’d never done him wrong, outside of her name?

Whore.

Cockrest.

The insults to his Queen, his clan, kept coming and Omid’s anger wanted to tear through his chest and rip its way into Lucky’s, find his heart, and tear it throughout it like a spoiled piece of fruit.

I don’t even know you anymore. You aren’t my brother.

Lucky…” Omid rasped, eyes and head rolling back.

Lucky…” Omid said, reaching up to grasp Lucky’s hands.

It was only when Lucky stopped shaking him that Omid’s grip tightened. He looked up at Lucky al-Izar, his own anger clear as day in his eyes.

You...you’re right. You don’t know me. You never did.” Omid said.

I’m not your brother. And I'm not your punching bag.

The sun shined overheard, but the mote of Witchlight that burst into life between Omid and Lucky might as well have been its own sun. It grew brighter, brighter, and brighter still, and Omid pulled his Craft into a shield to protect his eyes before he shoved the Witchlight full into Lucky’s face to blind him.

When Lucky released Omid to cover his eyes, Omid struck.

He punched Lucky in his throat. Twice.

Rolling away from the angry Warlord Prince, Omid’s rational mind knew that he should run. Run away, hide, and pray that Lucky didn’t reach the Killing Edge before his sight returned. But Omid had lived through the same things Lucky lived through. Omid had survived the same horrors of the mines and he wasn’t some overgrown manchild with zero impulse control.

He wasn’t running from Lucky. Not now.

Not ever.

Omid got to his feet knowing that he should run. Instead, Omid planned his feet and drew on his Red. He wanted Lucky to hear him.

Is that what family is, Lucky? People you get to punch because everyone else will turn you into a smear on the wall?” Omid asked.

So when Hadjara marries Babak…are you going to beat her up, too?



Offline Lucky al-Izar

  • Character Account
    • pd2sapphire
    • wp
    • Role

      Mineborn

    • Territory

      Pruul

    • Character Sheet

      [Link]

    • OOC

      Kenna

    • Posts

      251

    • View Profile
Re: Not Enough Room For You and Me
« Reply #9 on: Oct 29, 17, 11:28:45 PM »
Alone.

Omid did not know what that meant. He had a Mother. Music. The knowledge that comforted him at night.

He had not thought about throwing himself down a shaft and known, with absolute certainty, that no one would care when he hit the bottom. He had not brought his hands to his head, ripping the matted hair in between his fingers, and forgotten how to speak, because no one had bothered to talk to him in months. He had not. He had not run his rough fingers over the face of a fresh corpse to feel the softer touch of skin for the first time in a year.

He had not known what it was to be alone.

And Lucky was glad.

His brother had had tiny sparks of joy growing up, fanning a light within the Prince that Lucky had first thought was a weakness. But then Kesare had shown him how it was a strength—that enthusiasm for life, the fragility of opening himself up to the world. It had influenced the Warlord Prince, as he gradually regained his sanity, imprinting on Lucky in a way that Omid probably did not even know. 

Lucky did that. He collected the best pieces of his friends and family when they weren’t looking—analyzing them, shifting them around, slowly incorporating them into his fractured perspective of the world over months and years. “For all the talk of prophecies, do you not think that is how it was meant to be? If my plan had not failed would Ghanima have woken? Would we have been killed in secret? Would the Rains have fallen from the sky? We survived, because we were together. Finally. That was my plan. Always.”

The Warlord Prince felt his eyes burn and he hated himself for it. For the weakness of caring. For allowing Omid into his heart enough to hurt him. The anger boiled up, so very like the time on the roof. When Kesare had been trapped below him instead of Omid. The pain made him want to lash out, dig his fingers into his brother’s eyes and slam him against a wall. Rip out every rib Omid possessed before using them to stake him to his fucking Queen’s bed.

But Lucky al-Izar was not the same person as he had been on that roof.

His fist hesitated and his teeth clenched, because he could no longer hit his brother at the exact moment the Prince threw out his witchlight. Lucky’s shield took the brunt of Omid’s attack, but he stumbled back, instinct taking over.

The Warlord Prince did not need sight to know where his pray was. His senses and Craft were always out, honed by the best warrior in all of Pruul. A fraction of Sapphire power shot out, strategically destroying the wall next to Omid, the bricks tumbling down to smash into Omid.

Except they hung there, suspended by Sapphire Craft, as Lucky recovered.

“I DON’T KNOW YOU OMID AL-IZAR?!” The Warlord Prince’s fists tightened.

“I didn’t physically feel the agony you felt when your mother was raped and broken? I didn’t know when you cried at night because you were afraid of the dark? I don’t know how much your face lights up when Rania comes into the room? I don’t know how hard you have tried to help me see the good in people, because you are good? I don’t know you?” He spat on the ground.

“Don’t fucking lie to yourself.”

Anger whirled around him, whipped like the biting cold deep in the mines. Anger and pain and the feeling that something was slipping just out of his grasp. Lucky wanted to sate his bloodlust, he wanted to rub his hands with blood like fingerpaint. But the person he wanted to destroy was also someone that allowed the Warlord Prince to be, gave him purpose, was so woven into the fabric of Lucky’s life that he sometimes did not know where his siblings began and he ended. The band around his bicep flickered, the Killing Edge leashed.

He was no longer a monster. He was no longer a slave to anything, including his rage.

“When Hadjara marries Babak, you will not be there, so you will never know what I will do.” The words were a scream, a low keen filled with leashed anger and frustration.

But most of all, pain.

“When our sisters have children, you will not be there.”

“When Khadijah goes through her trials and takes her place as a warrior, you will not be there.”

“When one of us wakes up screaming, needing your music, your strength, you will not be there.”

“When the people who hate us—want nothing more to see our sisters raped and broken—try and rip the life from our family once more, you will NOT be there.”

“You will not.” He repeated.

It would only be Lucky. Alone.

“Family is not abandoning each other. Family is stopping yourself when all you want to do is leave everyone behind, ride across the desert, and find your Queen. Family is being there for the ones that love you even when you are at your worst. It’s built through time and sweat and fucking tears and it does not happen just because you get a shiny sword and the tit-fucked Darkness gave you a bond. Family is something you can never give up, because it is a part of you. Is you.”

“But you clearly don’t have the same definition.”

Lucky let out a long slow keen, his pain dancing up like Omid’s music, infusing the night with heaviness. Blackened long shadows. The past. A fractured future.

The Warlord Prince’s wings flared, his muscles tensed, and in one strong Craft-filled motion—the same that he had practiced with Fin over and over—he was airborne. His jet-black wings merging with the long-jagged sky that had held Lucky’s dreams for so long. They carried him aloft, the wind against his face and the world falling away like shattered glass.

In that moment, the one he had hoped for since he had learned what hope was—he just felt empty.

Alone.

Offline Omid al-Bali

  • Character Account
    • opal2red
    • prince
    • Faction

      Clan Bali

    • Territory

      Pruul

    • Character Sheet

      [Link]

    • OOC

      Gavin

    • Posts

      125

    • Those who survive prophecy forge their own path.

    • View Profile
Re: Not Enough Room For You and Me
« Reply #10 on: Oct 30, 17, 01:36:51 AM »
Omid al-Bali was not ready to die.

Lucky’s rage and temper were already noteworthy within Onn. He’d beaten a few people to death and done serious damage to other people through his lack of control. Omid had not come here intending to harm Lucky or test his self-control, but he wouldn’t be held hostage by Lucky’s moods or temper, either. Omid didn’t join the Bali to harm the other Mineborn, though he knew it wouldn’t be seen that way. The others would have their own questions, their own feelings on the matter. Perhaps they would side with Lucky and consider Omid a traitor. For a moment, the idea of being an outsider, the outsider, among the Mineborn gave him pause.

Then he remembered Farouk al-Akkad, who’d treated him like a son despite not knowing him.

He thought of his Queen, Zaehrah, who’d promised that she would never force him to choose between the Mineborn and her.

He even thought of Lord Abulurd, his father and brother, who’d granted him the chance to prove his manhood and forced him to answer a question that Omid didn’t truly understand. Lucky had gone and obtained his Offering Jewel in secret, without them, and only told them once he needed their help. Lucky stood there and talked about family, talked about pain, as though he was the only one to ever understand them.

You only know echoes of my feelings, Lucky. I never offered those things to you. Just because you can feel what I felt doesn’t mean you know. It just means we were both bonded in ways we never asked for.” Omid said. Lucky hadn’t attacked him yet, but Omid readied himself for it. Would Lucky kill him? Could he? Could Omid kill him if he wanted to preserve his own life? The questions swirled around in his mind, taking him outside of the moment. He was brought back by Lucky’s pronouncement of all the things that Omid would never know, would never see.

You no longer determine what I can and cannot do, Lucky. You never had that power, and I finally understand it now. I will be where our sisters ask me to be.

You will not stop me ever again
.” Omid said.

He watched Lucky become airborne, flying for the first time on wings that had grown stronger since their time in the mines. Khadi’s wings had been removed. Lucky flew away and Omid watched him until he was out of his sight. The blood flowed from his face, but Omid ignored it. He stood there, long after Lucky was gone feeling a piece of him fly away as well. But it was only a piece. He could gain other pieces and take strength from his clan, his Queen, and his new purpose in life. Lucky had chosen to build a new clan, the Izar, in order to give him the family that he sought. He would succeed or fail, on his own. Lucky could fly now.

It was time for Omid to fly on his own.