Joy ride (part1): Stealing

gift

Shuri's quick footsteps echo in the empty lab. Reverberating in the dark; the night's quiet broken for short-staccato moments. Unhindered, it envelops and muffles the sounds; returning to it's overbearing peace: black and blank like a heavy blanket. But for that one light he left on, over the empty work-table. Near empty; except for the inconspicuous cup gleaming in the yellow light.

James holds his breath, just at Shuri's sudden intake. Her, noticing the object; low swears, the wondering "how did this get here.." James, noticing for the first time the beauty in its simplicity. In the simple clay and the healed, worked-over cracks. It's something special after all.

Yet, Shuri as always is two steps ahead. She has already disregarded the object. Her stance hardens; a conclusion arrived at; a decision made. Head turning left to right, the twin buns of today's hair-do bobbing with the movement. "James, I know you're here. Come out,.."

And he does. He had already meant to; though her tone momentarily slows him. Okay, so James had already known he would not be praised for this amount of ingenious thinking. James had known he needed to talk her into this. Had known she would not be easy to cajole. He'd anticipated some resistance. But Shuri is glaring at him with tired, sleep-deprived eyes. Her dress is the same one as from the night's meeting; a beige and orange thing of loose comfort, now rumpled. Her hairstyle is slightly sagging, and the fine shoes he knew she wore earlier are gone, feet bare; probably too sore to stand another moment of confinement.

For the first time James wonders what went on in the little more than an hour he'd been missing. Yet James can construct the highlights from the way she frowns. She regards him like an errant child, finally found. It makes him fidget, feeling dirty and sweaty and un-kept for the first time in so long. His make-shift camouflage still covers most of him, yet it provides no refuge now; only an itch where sweat washes down mud and sticks clothing to his skin.

Shuri breathes in slowly, closes her eyes a moment; puffs herself up for something that must be a speech rehearsed many times in the last hour. But before she can get anything out, there's a shout from outside. Followed by more disturbed shouts. Shuri pauses, sweeps towards the Wester window, one fine hand on the window sill. "Damn it. What did you do?"

"Okay," James decides, slowly stepping up next to the princess. Her body-language is hard; nearly shaking; silently spurring the arm he would put around her waist; the kiss he'd place at her neck. Instead, James stands next to her and looks towards Jabari mountain. Black in the night, against a horizon only a shade less perfectly dark. "It's not what it looks like, I promise."

Yet, James realises with an intake of breath, something is off: from the mountain silhouette now rize dark plumes of smoke, red glowing like pockmarks from where they originate. Like sores, at several spots along the path. The mental overlay already tells James it's the watchtowers set alight. No; not the watchtowers themselves. James knows, just Shuri's usual light melody drops low. "They've lit the beacons. Someone has done injustice to the mountain people...

"James.." She says his name like a prayer; like her last breath of air, lost. "James, did you go up the Jabari mountain, into the Silverback's sacred temple? Did you steal a sacred artifact; the Chalice - from our precious allies.. -trespassing; stealing; Did you bring it to me? While, by the way, ignoring about fifteen calls from me on your Kimoyo beads?"

"Okay.." James pulls the bracelet from his pant's front pocket. He hadn't noticed the vibrations from the messages, true. Which figures, with him practically falling down the mountain through thick voilage. But, he would not have answered before anyway. Dejected, he admits: "okay, you're right. It's exactly what it looks like. But you have to look at the big picture here."