Prompt# 192 - Languid - The Rain Beckons - Tekia - Original

[tekia.livejournal.com]

Title: The Rain Beckons
Fandom: Original
Prompt: Languid
Warnings: No exalted appear in this story, but this story takes place in the Exalted setting of Creation.
Rating: PG 13
Summary: When a people die, so do their gods.

Ki’Torah sat on the old crumbling wall, looking out at the vast expanse of ocean on the other side. The wind was harsh here, whipping through his hair and tugging at the sleeves of his robes, but he ignored it all in favor of brooding. There was no other word for it, as he sat there, feet brought in close so he could hug his legs and rest his chin on his knees. His feet were bare and his hands had lost the many rings that had once adorned every finger. His hair was a wild mess and his lips were chapped.
And that, more than anything else, frightened him.
Gods didn’t get chapped lips. He licked his lips and tasted the ocean’s salt. He hated this. And what could he do to stop it? The war had come to his door and his people had stood to fight, and they were dying. The young men were the first to die, then the elders and now women and children were falling under the threat.
He sighed and rubbed hands over his tired eyes and noted another new experience.
Once he had been strong. Not the strongest, never, but he wasn’t something to laugh at, but after all this war, all these battles where more and more of his people died, he had turned into this. Nothing more than a glorified elemental.
His people were dying and he was going to die with them.
He stood and carefully made his way along the crumbling wall and toward what had once been his grand palace. Its white walls were now dirty and splattered in places with blood. Walls were crumbling and there was a massive boulder sitting in his personal chambers. He didn’t care enough to have it removed. He wasn’t strong enough to move it on his own.
The sky was turning red with the setting sun and he worried that under the cover of the clouds the enemy will attack. He didn’t know if he could hold off another attack.
“Ki’To!,” a young woman cried, hand held high in the air as she jogged toward him. He turned fully toward her and allowed a smile to curve his lips.
“Little one, you’ve grown so much so quickly.”
She paused beside him, smiling that smile that brought him to his knees in this state. How could she smile like that after all that had happened to them. To her. Her poor, dear father…
“You say that every time you see me.”
“It’s true, little one.”
Her lips took on a smirk and she planted one hand on her hip. “Then why do you call me ‘little one?’”
He chuckled. “You’re still little, girl. Your mother was little, and your grandmother as well.”
She whacked him on the arm with a dusty rag he hadn’t noticed in her hand. “Just you watch, I’ll be big someday.”
His smile slipped away as he looked at the girl. She was one of his people. Her family had been one of the first of his people, on both sides and they were his favorites. Her father had been a hero, despite his poor status and humble duties in the city. Her mother had been the most devout to protecting the ill and injured. It still burned in his chest when he remembered how the two of them had fallen to the enemy to be brutally murdered. Like so many others.
Talia was beautiful, the very image of a desert dweller with her smooth tawny skin and hair so black it shimmered blue in the sun’s light. She was indeed short, the top of her head just barely reaching his shoulder, but she was a force to be reckoned with. Just like her mother had been.
She wouldn’t live through this. None of them will. He turned back to the walk that lead through his palace gates, now dangerously tipped to one side and felt the girl fall into step beside him. A basket hung from her elbow and she now dug in it, emerging with a loaf of bread, still hot. “Will you bless this? It’s to be set out for the night god. He likes it when you bless things for him.”
“Ter’Toc,” Ki’To said with a fond smile and shake of his head.
Talia hummed her agreement and passed the bread loaf to him. He closed his eyes and murmured the words of blessing before handing the thing back. “Why?”
“It’s to rain tonight, yeah? Maybe he will hold off the night for us.”
Ki’To paused only a second before he kept walking, not wanting his cynicism to brush off on her. She was too alive for him to dampen that spirit. The walked into the palace and shivered in the shadows. Under the sun was hot, but bearable this close to the ocean, but inside, with the walls crumbling but still standing, the wind was horrid. He instantly pulled off his robe and settled it around the girl’s thin shoulder. She moved to protest, but he waved her words away.
Then she was digging into her basket once again and emerged this time with a little hand made toy. She presented it to him with a grin. “Father made this, ages ago.”
“I recognize his work,” Ki’To said, accepting the toy and cradling it in his palm. It was a bird, with wings that moved with the pull of a string. It was painted brightly red and gold. His colors.
Talia flushed and her eyes wouldn’t meet his. “I give it to you, lord.”
Startled, Ki’To stared at her profile. His people hadn’t given him praise in quite a while. What had he done to protect them from the oncoming hordes that sought to kill them all? What was this strange prickling sensation behind his lids?
He blinked rapidly and clutched the gift close to his chest before he shook his head. “No, I can’t take this. You’re house was destroyed, everything you had of your father is gone save for this.” He moved to hand it back, but she cupped her hands around his and finally met his gaze. Her eyes were dark, dark bronze, deep and fiery. She smiled.
That smile.
“You need it more than me, lord.” She looked down at the toy in his hands in her hands. “We still love you. We still live, and while we live, we will be your’s.” She moved his hands until he was clasping the toy, one hand on top, one on bottom. “This is my faith in you.”
His hands shook. He was weak. If they attacked tonight, they all will die. He couldn’t protect them anymore.
He didn’t deserve her faith.
Water was trailing down his cheeks and, startled, Talia brought a hand to his face. “Ki’Torah,” she began, singing the notes of the hymn, but breaking off with only his name.
The girl was never good with words. She said what was on her mind, and often had stumbled over how she wanted to say what she wanted to say, but this time, it was enough.
His song. The song of his people. Faith in him, not as a protector, because that was what he wasn’t. Ki’Torah wasn’t their protector, but their spirit.
Their protector… Shu’Tonou. Shu’Tonou.
Clenching his eyes closed, he felt more tears fall and he collapsed to the cracked marble of the floor. Talia fell with him, her hands warm on his shoulder. She held him as he cried for the first time for the fallen. For the humans that had fought to protect their home, for Shu’Tonou that had fallen protecting the humans. For Talia who still protected the people that still lived.
He knew, tonight, when the clouds covered the moon and the rain drizzled on the parched land, she would find a weapon, probably broken and misused, and stand with what was left of their race and protect what was left of them. And so will he.
And they will die under the feet of this barbaric force.
A blast of wind told them that the rain had arrived before the night. Talia stiffened, then chuckled. She pulled away from him and wiped at his eyes. “I’ve never seen you cry, lord. You’re far too proud for that.”
“How the mighty have fallen,” he quipped, startling himself.
She grinned and stood, helping him. He clutched the toy in one hand held to his chest. She picked up her basket where it had fallen and slipped it back on her arm. “I must hurry to Ter’Toc’s rock. I’ll see you tomorrow.” She turned away and paced down the dark walkway to the exit, her basket languidly swinging with her hips. She was so calm and collected in the face of this riot. A spot of peace in this war.
He watched her leave, a tiny smile curving his lips. He had her faith. She had his spirit. If they were to survive at all, they must rely upon each other. The god and the nurse’s child. The weakened god and his poor, hapless people.
Ki’To turned to his weapons and prepared to lead his city in its last stand against the greatest army the South had ever seen.
He had faith.