<moved and reposted>
<to be deleted>
<moved and reposted>
<to be deleted>
Last edited by ArtisticVicu; 04-02-2021 at 10:40 PM.
Find a tale or three or five to read but be warned. It is never easy to see where the plot may be going As the Story Crumbles
February 2020
Monthly Writing Prompts
There is a 100 word minimum to complete the prompt and an alternative 1000 word minimum. I keep with the alternative word minimum.
New way of doing things this round.
Be advised:
It may be interlaced with fandoms.
It can be spooky or cover dark topics.
If you find that it needs to have any other sort of warning, please let me know.
Prompt
Love is in the air
Spoiler:The mattress was nothing more than a pad stuffed full of soft things - no springs, no foam, just straw or down or wool - but he still woke her when he got up. He was like clockwork. Even if the sun was obscured by clouds or it was the heart of winter, he was always up at the same time every day. Bright and early to go for a run around the lake.
She used to join him. She used to be able to get up when he did and feel rested enough to go for the run. She used to be at his level of health, strong and fit, till she wasn't. It had been so gradual, she hadn't even noticed something was wrong till she nearly passed out trying to keep up with him.
Now she can barely muster enough strength to watch him dress before passing out again.
He wakes her with a cool hand at the base of her neck under all her hair. His hands are calloused and scarred from a life before all this and the life they've lived so far. She can smell breakfast - meat and bread and other savory things - but it churns her stomach and he knows. He helps her from her stomach on the bed to the chair he had built her when her body started failing her. He leaves her with the bowl of oatmeal. The smell of the brown sugar, milk, and oats doesn't churn her stomach like the smell of his breakfast had. There were fresh berries even and they added a pleasant tang.
She managed to finish off the bowl but she wasn't sure if that was due to her appetite or him giving her less than normal.
The days blending weren't helping anything.
He enters as she finishes, his expression curious yet tinged with concern. To others, he looks annoyed, pissed, but his features are harsh and don't lend well to the pleasanter expressions. Doesn't mean he can't smile or laugh or cry. She's seen every emotion humanly possible out of him since day one. She knew how careful he could be, how stubborn, how pigheaded and rude and loving. He had grown and changed as a person and she knew she was lucky to have seen it.
He takes the bowl from her as her thoughts wander. He takes it to the kitchen and returns. He doesn't say anything, doesn't look at her differently. He waits patiently as her thoughts come back to the present and she gets herself up.
His hands come forward as she wavers on her feet. She doesn't push them away. She had done that in the beginning. Now she knew better. She knew that even if she thought she was steady, she could fall, and she didn't want that pain.
He had seen her in worse states than this and he had stuck around. It had taken her even after a lot of those moments to shove her pride out the window and never look back.
His hands fall away as she steps past him.
He's right behind her, following her to the front door. She manages to open it - was she not able to yesterday? She couldn't remember - and steps out into the warm sun.
It's late spring, meaning the sun's almost up at the same time as he is every morning and is nice and warm by the time she manages to make it to the sunny side of the porch. She settles into the rocker there - he must have moved it after last night; she could remember watching the sun set from the other side of the porch - and watches as he continues off the porch towards the mess a few paces away. He's working on something again. She's not sure what but she's happy he's been enjoying woodworking. The last six years would have been excruciating if he hadn't found an outlet like woodworking.
She's not sure if the chill of the shade or him stepping up onto the porch wakes her but his gaze meets hers and he offers her a soft smile. He must have thought of something pleasant. Maybe he'll share.
"Feel up to a walk through town? I need to stop by the general store. I owe Marcus an update."
His voice is gravelly but not deep like some of the other men from the village - Torren, another woodworker, has a voice so deep, it can be felt in the ribs every time he talked - but it's low, soft spoken, and soothing. She offers a hum in return and starts to get up.
His arms are strong under her arms as he takes her weight without her speaking up. She goes with it. The rocking chair is nice but getting out of it was impossible now. He stands her on her own two feet but doesn't let go. He can feel the tremors in her muscles as she sags against him. It's easy for her arms to go over his shoulders, head nestled in the nook of her right arm and his head, with him being the shorter one. He barely even shifts as he takes her weight, his hands still on either side of her ribs.
Steadfast; was another good term for him.
She shifts and he helps her pull back. The tremors have subsided but she's tired. He can see it. His hand is in her hair again, cupping the side of her head. "You can stay."
She shakes her head. They've had this discussion before many times. "It'll be good for me."
He doesn't argue but he also doesn't agree. Instead of saying anything, he helps her back into the house. He's already dressed for the day but she's still in her sleep wear. She manages everything but the pants, socks, and shoes. His hands run over her ankles out of habit rather than concern, always checking to make sure she wasn't injured. She appreciates it.
He closes the cabin door and leads the way while staying at her side.
She makes it to the edge of town before his arm his around her waist, holding up her weight again.
The town is surprisingly festive. Not to say the town isn't normally bustling but there seems to be a different air to it. People seem to be more chatty, clustered in twos or threes more often than individuals. Full families wander through town, children playing, parents conversing, and it isn't till they pass the pastry shop on the way to the general store that she realizes why.
The chalk sign outside the bakery is covered in swirls and bubbly text. The header? 'Love is in the air'. It was the town's equivalent of Valentine's Day.
His arm tightened around her. She knows its because he had picked up on her sudden mood change. Not even a half a second after reading the sign does she hear, "It's such a shame she hasn't left him yet. He would do better with a wife that could actually give him a family than be a burden like her."
"Ignore them," he growls and she can't help but wonder what else he had heard. He could always hear far greater than she could. "They don't know anything."
She presses her face into his black hair. It was swept back in his favorite style, spiky all over the place and highlighting his deep widow's peak, but it was still soft and gave easily as she escapes the world by using his hair. It smells of him and wood and faintly of the oil he uses to get his hair to stay. "Maybe you should listen."
It wasn't the first time she had said it but it was certainly the first time in public. His hair guaranteed no one else but him heard it.
He moves so that they're facing each other and his hands move. Touch was something they both needed but their relationship was nothing like what others assumed. His hands were on her hips keeping her steady as he changed positions. Out of habit her arms went around his neck and he pulled her close. She buried her face in between her arm and his neck as his hold shifted into a massive hug. "I don't care what those idiots think. You have been with me since the beginning and understand far more than any of them can comprehend. I owe you my life and every day we share is precious to me."
The words are just as passionate and honest as the last seventeen times he's said them. Her arms weakly tighten around the back of his shoulders and he reciprocates. They were each other's family, best friend, partner through it all and that was what mattered. She knew that was what mattered but she knows that the townsfolk are just echoing words she had heard in her previous life. He had given her what she never thought had been possible and he wasn't taking that away any time soon.
The cooing from the onlookers makes her stomach churn and she feels more than hears his growl. He doesn't so much step back as gently aid her in moving back. The drive to make it to the general store is gone from her and he can see it. She knows he can by the way he takes her left hand into his left hand and how his other arm wraps around her lower back. He takes her weight without comment, without probably even a thought. When they enter the general store, Marcus is helping someone. In a few quick words, the shop owner is stepping away and guiding them to the back. He sits her where Marcus's directs but doesn't leave when Marcus steps back out. His hands are on hers, in her hair. His eyes are meeting her as he inquires, "How long do you want to wait before trying to get back home?"
She shakes her head. "I don't have a preference."
He kisses her forehead. "I'll carry you home when we're done then."
He steps out after Marcus. She lets herself wonder if he'll take the long way home or the direct way home.
Maybe she'll ask for the long way home. It was through the forest and not near gossipers. That and it was still probably full of spring flowers. It was probably still very pretty through there.
Yeah, he might like that too.
Find a tale or three or five to read but be warned. It is never easy to see where the plot may be going As the Story Crumbles
March 2020
Monthly Writing Prompts
There is a 100 word minimum to complete the prompt and an alternative 1000 word minimum. I keep with the alternative word minimum.
New way of doing things this round.
Be advised:
It may be interlaced with fandoms.
It can be spooky or cover dark topics.
If you find that it needs to have any other sort of warning, please let me know.
Prompt
Conquer your fear!
Spoiler: Part 1
"Verena, get back here!"
A string of giggles escaped the small tiefling whose tail was nearly as long as they were tall. The tiefling dashed this way and that through the caravan, gigging every time the woman called out for them.
"Verena!"
The small body collided with another, causing the other to stumble as the tiefling fell backwards to land on their butt. A shout went up as the person the child had ran into yanked the tiefling back up and out of the way of the cart.
"Watch where yer playin', ya damn brat!" the driver barked.
The small body cowered in the protective embrace of a body not much bigger.
"Soren? What'chya got there?"
"Don' know, da'," the body holding the tiefling offered. "Ne just ran into me."
"Verena! There you are!"
The little tiefling flinched as rough hands pulled nem away from the other and a started cry escaped the little form. "Shush, Verena," came from the parent, chastising. "I'm so sorry Stoick. Is Soren alright?"
"I'm fine." The little tiefling looked over, meeting the curious gaze of a human child that was barely older than the tiefling child. A small voice in the little tiefling's mind spoke of how the human's eye color was wrong somehow. The human child didn't seem to notice or didn't care as it offered a hand like all the grownups do to strangers. "I'm Soren."
"Go on, Verena. Shake neir hand like a good boy."
The tiefling's lavender tail came around, a splotch of pale coloring like a paint splatter discoloring the tip. Said tip pressed into the offered palm and despite the chastising from the adults, Verena thought it was worth it to see the laughter that broke out across Soren's too grown up face.
"We'll be heading east at Alnrich."
Verena's tail slowly fell from its perked posture even as he felt Soren's body go tense under him. They were trying to sneak through the caravan as young children do playing whatever game they had made but they had heard Soren's dad and Verena's parents' voices drifting towards them in the night and had gotten curious. Soren had crouched at the back wheel of one of the wagons while Verena clung to his back still smaller than the other.
Verena buried his face into Soren's hair. It smelled of smoke and earth and held a comfort that made his heart ache at losing. His tail followed his emotions and wrapped securely around Soren's waist. The other rubbed comforting circles into the tail against neir stomach but didn't move.
"So soon?" Verena's mother asked.
There was a scoff from his father. "Let them leave if they want, Ilma. It is not our place to convince them to stay."
A rumble of a chuckle came from Soren's dad. "Soren will most likely fight me. We've stayed too long and ne's grown attached to Verena and the others."
"Is that such a bad thing?" Verena's mother asked.
"Whether it is or isn't doesn't change the fact that we have stayed too long. We will part ways at Alnrich."
"May the tides bring us back together."
Verena's mother added at the end of his father's words, "And may the winds bring you peace."
"Thank you, both of you."
"Hang on tight, Ren."
Verena jolted as Soren's sudden voice but did as coaxed. Soren dashed away from their parentals and deeper into the trees. They didn't go very far - they were still within the light of the main campfire - but it was far enough that if they didn't talk overly loud, they'd have privacy. Soren pulled at Verena's tail and hand, a silent sign to get down and in front of nem.
"I don't want you to go," Verena choked out, doing his best to keep his voice down. He pressed his face into Soren's chest and felt himself relaxing at the warmth he always found there.
Soren's arms, just as warm, wrapped around him. "I don't want to go either but Dad says its important to keep moving until home finds us."
Verena pulled his face away enough to look up at Soren, making his yellow eyes as big and watery as possible. "But isn't this home?"
Soren smiled. It was soft and left Verena thinking it was too grown up to be on Soren's face. "I think Dad wants a house that doesn't move, with fields and animals to tend. I don't think he ever wanted to be part of a traveling caravan."
Verena's arms tightened around Soren; his tail had hooked around Soren's left ankle. "What about you? Where do you wanna be?"
Soren shrugged. "With Dad. He's all I got left."
Something bitter and hot shot through him. "But what about me? I'm your family too."
That grown up face Soren had gotten so good at wearing fell away as hot tears - they hurt when they touched Verena's cooled skin but it was nothing the tiefling couldn't stand - streaked down the other's face. "But I can't leave my Dad. Verena-"
Something broke inside the little tiefling as whatever was supposed to follow his name was cut off by a vicious sob. Verena pulled at Soren and wrapped himself as best he could around the bigger kid. Soren held on, heat rolling off the other in a way that terrified Verena without him understanding why.
Stoick was the one that found them like that. The man's bushy face softened at Verena's pleading gaze and welcomed the gentle touch to his head as Stoick's other hand went to Soren's back. "Come on, kiddo. It's bedtime."
"Don' wanna go," Soren spat out into the mingling of their bodies.
"I know. But it won't be forever. Just a for now. Ok? You'll see Verena again."
Something like ice shot through Verena. He knew that wording. He glared at Soren's dad with all his might even as Soren pulled away enough to look up at neir dad. "Promise?"
Stoick smiled. Verena's hold on Soren tightened. "Promise. Come on, kiddo."
Every fiber of Verena's being was calling Stoick a liar as he let Soren slip from his grasp.
"Ren?"
Yellow eyes snapped away from those he was sitting with to lock onto a pair of eyes on a human face that weren't quite right.
"Do I know you?" he found himself asking even as the strings bit into his fingers; he was clenching the neck of his lute like it was a lifeline. His vision blurred only to clear when he blinked.
Why was he crying?
"Ah, sorry," the human with the off eyes offered. "You looked like an old friend of mine I haven't seen in years."
"Someone named Ren?"
The words were past his lips before he could stop them. There was something deep within him that was begging this human to say no, to say-
"His full name is Verena, but last I had seen him we were nothing but tots."
He choked on a sob, curling in on himself as his free hand snapped to his mouth. His tail with its pale tip came up and around, like it could add another layer of protection from whatever was pulling at him, drowning him in grief.
He heard his companions shout his name, knew this stranger knew his name now, but he couldn't face nem, couldn't even look at nem.
Someone tried to approach him.
He stumbled out of his chair, the lute slamming into his gut painfully. It didn't stop him from turning and fleeing the inn.
He didn't expect to find a temple. It looked lively despite the state the temple itself was in. It looked old, probably more ancient than anything else he had ever seen, but where he would normally be drawn in by the possibility of learning its history, he turned away at the thought of interacting with anyone. Instead, he slowly made his way over to the pond while staying within the trees.
He shouldn't be surprised he had been followed but neither footfall sounded familiar.
Turned out one of the footfall belonged to the human with the off eyes. Behind nem was one of the human's companions - the one with the interesting staff - but the companion didn't approach like the human did.
"Can I join you?"
He turned away, tail wrapping around him on the ground as he did so.
For a moment, there was silence. He relished in it for as long as it lasted and nearly drifted off before he felt warmth at his back. There wasn't any pressure of a human hand on his back but he knew there was one there, a few inches above his thin shirt. Why had he taken his gear off again?
"Your hair's longer than I remember." A breath. "But, then, that's to be expected. It has been almost twenty five years."
He couldn't help the snort that escaped him. "Then how do you know I'm you're friend. I'm probably too young to even have been alive twenty five years ago."
"Because I remember the pattern of your tail; the paint splatter of pale that colored the tip and stretched up the length of your tail." His tail tightened around him. "Because I remember your laugh even if its deepened from age, I remember how strikingly pale you looked standing next to your parents with lavender skin so soft it seemed almost incomplete with the pale patches." That hand that had been hovering high between his shoulder blades pressed into the back of his neck. "And I remember how small you had been when you first ran into me from among the wagons."
The hand was unnaturally warm but it pulled at things he couldn't remember. He leaned into the touch as a different sob pulled at him, bitter and sad and tired. "But I can't even remember if I had parents, let alone my childhood." He offered this strange human - so warm and familiar and strange - a tight smile. "How am I supposed to remember who you even are if I don't know who I am?"
The human smiled gently at him. "Then we'll start anew." The hand left the back of his neck and he swallowed down the urge to whimper. The human offered a hand to shake. "I'm Soren."
"I'm Soren."
He looked over, meeting the curious gaze of a human child that was barely older than he was. A small voice in his mind spoke of how the human's eye color was wrong somehow. The human child didn't seem to notice or didn't care with a hand offered like all the grownups do to strangers.
"Go on, Verena," a voice he couldn't remember but ached from hearing coaxed. "Shake neir hand like a good boy."
He didn't want to. He didn't trust any of the others of the caravan - the other kids skittered away any time he had wandered too close - so he went with the better option. He brought his tail around, a splotch of pale coloring like a paint splatter discoloring the tip. Said tip pressed into the offered palm and despite the chastising he knew was coming, Verena thought it was worth it to see the laughter that broke out across Soren's too grown up face.
He sucked in a breath, fumbling away from the strange human even as he realized his tail had moved on its own accord. The pale tip of his tail was stark against the strange human's palm and despite the joy he saw flicker across the strange human's face, he yanked his tail free. He wondered if the glimpse of disappointment was his own reflected back at him as Soren pulled on a mask of patience, hand still extended.
He swallowed thickly and reached out, giving a firm handshake even as he trembled. "Verena."
"How long have you been playing?"
Verena looked up as Soren settled beside him. Their two parties had been traveling together for over two weeks now and this was the first time Soren had sought Verena out when he was alone. Verena shrugged. "Long enough to have it ingrained into every fiber of my being," he offered easily enough. "Still don't remember much of my history despite..."
The last two weeks - the reasons why the two parties were now tangled and how memories weren't always the most pleasant coming back - went unsaid.
Soren hummed, as if ne understood.
They sat at the edge of the camp together, backs to the fire, and Verena suddenly had an inkling of why Soren was there. "I thought Soala was joining me for first watch."
Soren shrugged. "Apparently Aelfwyne needed her for something so I got volunteered."
He found himself raising an eyebrow at the other. "Why didn't you say no?"
Another shrug. "Soala was taking third watch for me in turn so I didn't think much of it till after the fact."
"Ah."
Silence stretched between them broken only by Verena's unconscious plucking of the lute strings.
He nearly jumped out of his skin when an unnaturally warm hand wrapped around the top of the base of his tail. He brought the lute up between them like it was a weapon he could use to beat Soren back but all he was met with was a surprised expression on the other's face. Regret quickly overtook the surprise and Soren pulled back, hand leaving Verena's tail. "Sorry."
Minutes passed before Verena finally relaxed enough to ask, "Why'd you do that?"
He gained Soren's gaze. Those off colored pupils regarded him for the brief moment before, "You looked like you needed some warmth."
"But my tail?"
Soren looked back to the group. "None of my companions have one so I hadn't really thought it would be any different than touching your shoulder, or arm." There was another shrug. "It was also bare skin. The rest of you is covered in fabric." Verena had taken to wearing his long sleeves but it was more out of keeping Soren's eyes off his markings than anything else. He gained a sigh from his silence. "Look," Soren explained, "I just did. There was no thought to it, no purpose other than wanting to give you some warmth. Figured best way was direct contact and I apologize for my lapse in judgment."
Soren stood up and started to move away.
It was then that Verena realized he really had been cold because now the chill of the night was touching him where Soren's warmth had been instead.
"What are you?"
His eyes snapped wide at the blurted words, a shiver of something coursing down his spin when Soren stops and half turns to look at him. But instead of the hate or rejection he expected to see, curiosity and patience greeted him from Soren's expression. He was growing to hate the latter. "A fire genasi. Why?"
"A what?"
"Fire genasi." Soren approached again but didn't sit. "Half human, half genie. Fire just happens to be the element trait I took on from the world."
"Would explain why you're always unnaturally warm."
Soren chuckled. He frowned, not liking the sound. It seemed sad. "I try and keep it as normal as I can manage but sometimes emotions or situations make it difficult."
His tail patted the spot Soren had been sitting at. "You were keeping the chill of the night away," he explained at Soren's raised eyebrow.
The fire genasi chuckled and sat back down. Conversation was slow to return but it did, making their watch short.
"Soren!"
His voice cracked on the name as fear threatened to choke him. Something brushed against his mind, something that wasn't physical, something he couldn't see nor touch, and as it brushed by it left him feeling like it took something with it but he couldn't think of what.
"Verena!"
It was soft, faint, and echoed off the walls like a whisper.
"Soren!" he screamed again, but he wasn't sure why he was screaming it. What even was it? Was it just a word or did it have meaning? Was it the customary response to 'verena'? What even was 'verena'?
He gave out a cry that turned into a sob as part of the ledge broke and tumbled into the darkness below. "Someone! Please!" he shouted, fear choking off anything else he may have shouted as he pressed into the wall as best he could.
"Verena!" His head snapped up and met a pair of eyes that looked off on a human face. Behind the stranger was a gaggle of people of varying races. "Shit," the human spat, the cuss echoed in different ways by those behind nem. "Verena, look at him." He found himself meeting the human's strange eyes. "Verena, I need you to trust me and step off the ledge."
"What?!" It was strangled and sharp and ricocheted off the walls oddly.
The human's face twisted into something painful. "Please, Ren," Ren, Ren, Ren, "you have to do this on your own. We can't come out to you."
"Why not?!" Another chuck of the ledge fell away and his leg slipped over the edge. "I can't!" it was high, reedy, followed quickly by a sob.
"We can't do this for you, Verena!" the human shouted back, voice strained as weapons were drawn. "Only you can conquer your fear! You're the only one that can get yourself out of its clutches."
"Soren!"
The strange human was thrown back by some force he didn't see. The human slammed into a few behind nem but those in the back were able to keep everyone more or less on their feet. One of the companions was already placing hands on the strange human's chest, magic dancing from those nimble fingers.
Something curled at the edge of his vision like it was about to strike and he knew with absolute certainty that if he let it spring forward, they would all die.
Whoever they were, they would all die.
He leapt at it as some noise ripped itself from his throat, magic turning all of his pale, swirling markings green.
It didn't matter who he was or who they were. He wasn't going to let them die.
Spoiler: Part 2"Verena, get back here!"
The shout was from near the back of the caravan, drawing the small child's attention towards it. Eyes that were not quite human in color sought out whoever was calling out, curious but not bothered. After all, the father was barely paying any attention to the shouting.
"Verena!"
Exhausted, fed up; those were things the father had explained but the child was still learning, still trying to understand.
Something small and solid collided with the child's side, but where the child stumbled, the other fell to neir butt in the dirt. Someone shouted and the human child with the not quite right eyes yanked the tiefling child with a tail nearly as long as ne were tall out of the way of the cart.
"Watch where yer playin', ya damn brat!" the driver barked.
"Soren? What'chya got there?"
"Don' know, da'" the human child offered, looking down at the tiefling. "Ne just ran into me."
"Verena! There you are!"
A tiefling woman with beautiful, rich purple skin hurried forward and roughly pulled the tiefling child from the human one. The tiefling gave a startled cry. "Shush, Verena." Her yellow eyes sought out the other parent. "I'm so sorry Stoick. Is Soren alright?"
"I'm fine," the human spoke out, eyes watching the tiefling child. Bright yellow eyes met the eyes that were not quite human in color and for a moment, the human child stared. There were no flickering of expressions on the other child's face, just a curious gaze of a child slightly younger than the other. The human child offered a hand like all the grownups do to strangers. "I'm Soren."
"Go on, Verena. Shake neir hand like a good boy."
The tiefling's lavender tail came around, a splotch of pale coloring like a paint splatter discoloring the tip and stretching up the rest of the tail. A glance picked the pale coloring in patches across the other child's face as the tip of the tiefling's tail pressed into the offered palm. Soren's face broke out into joyous laughter.
"We'll be heading east at Alnrich."
Soren stiffened under Verena's weight as dread filled neir tiny body. They were trying to sneak through the caravan as young children do playing whatever game they had made but they had heard Verena's parents and Soren's dad's voices drifting towards them in the night and had gotten curious. Soren had crouched at the back wheel of one of the wagons while Verena cling to neir back still smaller than the other.
Soren felt Verena bury his face into neir hair and it was all ne could do to not cling to the tiefling's tail as it wrapped around neir middle; ne weren't able to stop from rubbing comforting circles into the tail.
"So soon?" Verena's mother asked.
There was a scoff from his father. "Let them leave if they want, Ilma. It is not our place to convince them to stay."
A rumble of a chuckle came from Soren's dad. "Soren will most likely fight me. We've stayed too long and ne's grown attached to Verena and the others."
Soren fought to keep neir body temperature from rising in anger.
"Is that such a bad thing?" Verena's mother asked and ne wanted to shout, to know the answer too.
"Whether it is or isn't doesn't change the fact that we have stayed too long. We will part ways at Alnrich."
"May the tides bring us back together."
Verena's mother added at the end of his father's words, "And may the winds bring you peace."
"Thank you, both of you."
"Hang on tight, Ren," Soren urged softly before dashing away from their parentals and deeper into the trees. They didn't go very far - they were still within the light of the main campfire - but it was far enough that if they didn't talk overly loud, they'd have privacy. Soren pulled at Verena's tail and hand, a silent sign for the other to get down and stand in front of nem.
"I don't want you to go," Verena choked, hands fluttering towards his mouth briefly at the struggle to keep his voice down. He pressed his face into Soren's chest and the only support Soren could offer was a tight, warm embrace.
"I don't want to go either but Dad says it's important to keep moving until home finds us."
Verena pulled his face away enough to look up at Soren, those yellow eyes as big and watery as possible. "But isn't this home?"
Something dug into Soren's heart and it was all ne could do to smile. It was soft and felt a bit off. "I think Dad wants a house that doesn't move, with fields and animals to tend. I don't think he ever wanted to be part of a traveling caravan."
Verena's arms tightened around Soren; his tail had hooked around neir left ankle. "What about you? Where do you wanna be?"
Ne shrugged. "With Dad. He's all I got left."
"But what about me? I'm your family too."
Hot tears spilled out from Soren's eyes, warm even on neir cheeks, as ne felt neir heart be twisted and broken at the accusation. "But I can't leave my Dad. Verena-"
A vicious sob cut off the rest of Soren's words, destroying whatever composure ne had left. Verena pulled at Soren and wrapped himself as best he could around the bigger kid. Soren held on, heat rolling off nem. There was only so much control the small child could manage sobbing as the reality of neir world was torn apart in front of nem.
A familiar hand pressed into neir back and started to rub soothing circles as a familiar voice coaxes, "Come on, kiddo. It's bedtime."
"Don' wanna go," Soren spat out into the mingling of their bodies.
"I know. But it won't be forever. Just a for now. Ok? You'll see Verena again."
Soren pulled away enough to look up at neir dad. There was a small bit of hope buried deep underneath the knowledge that it probably wasn't true. "Promise?"
Stoick smiled. Verena's hold on Soren tightened. "Promise. Come on, kiddo."
Soren didn't believe him but slipped from Verena's grasp all the same.
"Ren?"
Yellow eyes snapped to eyes not quite the right coloring for human eyes.
"Do I know you?"
The question was sharp, directed at nem and it was till those words were shot in neir direction did ne realize ne had said the first word.
"Ah, sorry," Soren offered, even as ne drank in every last detail of the soft lavender tiefling with pale splotches; how the plum purple hair was far longer than ne ever expected the other to have, of how the right horn was broken off three rings from the skull, of the pale markings on the exposed arms, of the lute being clenched as if ne would steal it away. "You looked like an old friend of mine I haven't seen in years."
"Someone named Ren?"
Was it so shameful that a part of nem wanted to lie and say 'yes' when there was so much emotion behind that one question?
"His full name is Verena," ne found nemself saying, "but last I had seen him we were nothing but tots."
A sob wrenched itself from the tiefling as said tiefling curled around the lute, his free hand coming up to cover his mouth. A tail that was nearly as long as the tiefling was tall curled up and around, like it could add another layer of protection between them when all it did was display the paint splotch of pale that colored the tip and stretched up the rest of the tail.
Those at the tiefling's table shouted the name Soren had just shared. They reached out for the sobbing tiefling, tried to coax him back, but the tiefling - Verena - shot up and stumbled out of his chair, lute bouncing against his body. Soren moved forward but whatever ne had thought ne could do was wasted as Verena dashed out past nem and company.
"Shit." Ne looked to the table of Verena's apparent companions and urged, "I'll get him back." Neir gaze flickered to the same person ne always turned to for backup. "Hilde, with me, please." Neir gaze flickered to the others. "Stay here. We'll be back."
It took half a second outside of Mimm's to find which direction Verena had gone and Soren wasted no time running after him. Ne trusted Hilde to keep pace, if not finding nem if they separated.
Relief was heady as ne saw Hilde's temple come into view. The occupants were bustling about inside or out of sight because there was no one in the front area or near the pond Verena was settling at.
Soren slowed to a calm walk before ne finished approaching. Hilde stopped a few feet back. "Can I join you?" ne asked when ne came to a stop an arm length away.
Verena simply turned away and tucked his tail around him. Soren took it as invite enough and sat down.
Silence settled between them and Soren let his gaze drift over the others. The pale markings were strange swirls up and down the tiefling's bare arms. A part of nem wanted to ask about them but somehow knew better. Instead, ne lifted neir hand and rested it over the beautiful braid that was so long, it left Soren wondering just how long it truly was. "Your hair's longer than I remember." A breath. "But, then, that's to be expected. It has been almost twenty five years."
A snort escaped Verena. "Then how do you know I'm you're friend. I'm probably too young to even have been alive twenty five years ago."
"Because I remember the pattern of your tail; the paint splatter of pale that colored the tip and stretched up the length of your tail." Soren swallowed thickly, trying to keep whatever emotions that were trying to drown him at bay. "Because I remember your laugh even if its deepened from age, I remember how strikingly pale you looked standing next to your parents with lavender skin so soft it seemed almost incomplete with the pale patches." Ne pressed the hand that had been hovering high between Verena's shoulder blades into the back of his neck. "And I remember how small you had been when you first ran into me from among the wagons."
Ne felt the other lean into the touch as a different sob pulled at him, bitter and sad and tired. "But I can't even remember if I had parents, let alone my childhood." Verena offered a tight smile. "How am I supposed to remember who you even are if I don't know who I am?"
A gentle smile pulled at Soren's lips. "Then we'll start anew." Ne pulled the hand from the back of Verena's neck so that ne could turn and offer a hand to shake. "I'm Soren."
It was strange watching the tiefling ne half remember uncurl with a start. The pale tale tip came up hesitantly and pressed into neir palm and despite the strange look on Verena's face, Soren had a hard time suppressing the joy at knowing this was the Verena from his childhood.
It was short lived anyways. Verena sucked in a breath and yanked his tail from neir had. Soren did his best to keep the hurt that caused hidden behind a mask of patience, hand still extended.
Verena took neir hand in a firm hand shake. "Verena."
Soren couldn't help but wonder at the other's trembling.
"How long have you been playing?"
Verena looked up as Soren settled beside him. Their two parties had been traveling together for over two weeks now and Soren had done neir best to give Verena space, to never be alone with him. Unfortunately for nem, that wasn't possible tonight.
Verena shrugged. "Long enough to have it ingrained into every fiber of my being. Still don't remember much of my history despite..."
The last two weeks - the reasons why the two parties were now tangled and how memories weren't always the most pleasant coming back - went unsaid.
Soren hummed, understanding enough not to press.
They sat at the edge of the camp together, backs to the fire, in blissful silence for a while. Soren was surprised, though, by Verena's next words.
"I thought Soala was joining me for first watch."
Ne shrugged. "Apparently Aelfwyne needed her for something so I got volunteered."
Soren didn't miss the raised eyebrow. "Why didn't you say no?"
Another shrug. "Soala was taking third watch for me in turn so I didn't think much of it till after the fact."
"Ah."
Silence stretched between them broken only by Verena plucking at the lute strings. The song was heavy in a way that Soren wasn't sure Verena was aware of. It made something cold and unpleasant twist in neir chest.
A cold breeze wrapped around them both and Verena shuddered from it. Something close to instinct had Soren placing his hand on top of the base of Verena's tail. Ne blinked in surprise when the loot was suddenly between them. Regret quickly overtook the surprise as it dawned on Soren what ne had done and ne pulled back, hand leaving Verena's tail. "Sorry."
Minutes passed before Verena asked, "Why'd you do that?"
Soren looked over, regarding him for the brief moment before, "You looked like you needed some warmth."
"But my tail?"
Soren looked back to the group. "None of my companions have one so I hadn't really thought it would be any different than touching your shoulder, or arm." There was another shrug. "It was also bare skin. The rest of you is covered in fabric."Ne sighed when neir words were met with silence. "Look," Soren explained, "I just did. There was no thought to it, no purpose other than wanting to give you some warmth. Figured best way was direct contact and I apologize for my lapse in judgment."
Soren stood up and started to move away.
"What are you?"
Soren stopped and half turned back to Verena, mostly curious but doing neir best to remain patient as well. That particular question wasn't always directed at nem in hate and ne knew it. "A fire genasi. Why?"
"A what?"
"Fire genasi." Soren approached again but didn't sit. "Half human, half genie. Fire just happens to be the element trait I took on from the world."
"Would explain why you're always unnaturally warm."
Ne chuckled as ne found the whole thing bittersweet. Verena frowned up at nem. "I try and keep it as normal as I can manage but sometimes emotions or situations make it difficult."
Verena's tail patted the spot ne had been sitting at. Neir eyebrows rose at the implication. "You were keeping the chill of the night away," he explained.
Ne chuckled and sat back down. Conversation was slow to return but it did, making their watch short.
"Soren!"
His voice was soft, faint, and echoed off the walls like a whisper. It still carried the crack that had formed partway through and it tore at neir soul. Ne grunted as ne blocked another attack.
"Verena!" ne shouted back, frustrated that ne had to deal with insignificant enemies before ne could even fathom getting close enough to help, let alone save Verena.
Another clash of metal against metal. A well placed hand and the creature ignited.
"Soren!" came echoing back.
Soren dived under another creature, set that one ablaze as well, and dashed into the hallway that was suddenly clear.
"Someone! Please!" ricocheted through the hall but it was still Verena's voice and it was louder.
Ne rounded a corner with most of the combined company not far behind only to see something that made neir stomach drop. "Verena!"
Verena's head snapped up and relief was faint as those frantic yellow eyes locked onto neirs. Unfortunately, Soren was forced to stop as a massive tentacle slammed into the ground at the entrance. "Shit," ne spat, the cuss echoed in different ways behind nem. "Verena, look at me," ne half ordered, half begged. Those too bright yellow eyes found neirs again. Ne could see the panic there, the uncertainty and unfamiliarity. It made nem want to cuss some more. "Verena, I need you to trust me and step off the ledge."
"What?!" It was strangled and sharp and ricocheted off the walls oddly.
Soren's expression twisted with the doubt settling there as the sea of tentacles continued to slowly eroding Verena's perk. Somewhere in that sea was the creature's body. "Please, Ren," ne urged - pleaded, begged - taking a step forward, "you have to do this on your own. We can't come out to you."
"Why not?!" A chuck of the ledge fell away and Verena's leg slipped over the edge. It dangled inches above the closest tentacle. "I can't!" It was high, reedy, followed quickly by a sob and Soren found nemself stepping into the space without thinking.
"We can't do this for you, Verena!" Soren shouted, voice strained as weapons were drawn. "Only you can conquer your fear! You're the only one that can get yourself out of its clutches."
Ne didn't see the tenticle in time.
"Soren!"
Soren caught the curled tentacle in the chest and heard a few sickening cracks upon impact. Ne were slammed into Hilde and Alok and Aelfwyne but Unzokk and Kin were able to keep them all more or less on their feet. Hilde was already pressing hands onto neir chest, magic coursing through neir chest knitting back together the broken ribs and healing any other internal injuries.
It still took a few moments for the darkness creeping into neir vision to subside.
Soren's gaze snapped back to Verena as a battle cry like scream filled the halls with a brilliant green glow.
Soren scrambed to get to his feet, Verena's name ripping itself from neir throat as ne watched Verena leap at the creature's body, coiled and ready to strike at the company.
Soren tried to shake off the others even as ne knew there wasn't anything ne could do.
"Verena!"
Find a tale or three or five to read but be warned. It is never easy to see where the plot may be going As the Story Crumbles
Two Sides of the Same Coin
Prompt
The first words spoken by one's soulmate appearing on the wrist at the age of sixteen.
Spoiler:Usually a sixteenth birthday was a big deal but how families handled it varied. Some threw parties, some kept it private, but there was always an eagerness to read the first words a soulmate would share.
But sometimes life makes it hard to keep that kind of thing consistent.
"You can see him now."
The doctor's voice pulled his eyes from his wrist. His parents moved with a stuttered urgency. He reached over for his little sister. "Come on," he coaxed the five-year-old. She didn't utter a word as she let him help her gather all her crayons and paper before following after their parents. He knew where they were going even with how overwhelming the hospital was.
The recovery wing was stagnant compared to the waiting room. He hated it. Entering the room with his little sister's hand in his, he let out a silent sigh of relief as the stagnant of the recovery wing stopped at the door.
"Grandpa!"
Her hand slipped from his. She hurried over with that bright grin and calling out for their grandpa a second time. His parents chastised her even as the man on the bed roused. They were scared but his sister knew what he knew; their Grandpa was going to be just fine even with the long recovery.
"Mark."
He had settled underneath the window in the morning sunlight when friends and more family had arrived. He had contented himself to watch the different life lines shift and change around him. But his attention was drawn back to the man on the hospital bed in the empty room at the sound of one of his nicknames. An unconscious check told him his mom was taking his sister to the restroom and his dad was still seeing family and friends off. He got up and walked over, hopping up onto the edge of the hospital bed at his Grandpa's beckoning. The old man grinned at him. "Well, let's see it then."
He blinked, confused. "See what?"
His Grandpa chuckled. "Your wrist. Don't think for a moment this whole ordeal has made me forget what day it is. You still turned 16 today."
He recoiled from that, snapping his gaze back towards the window where it was safe.
A strong, weathered hand wrapped around his left wrist, fingers caressing the one thing he wanted to ignore. "That bad, huh?"
He didn't fight when his Grandpa pulled his arm up to read.
"Pathetic," his Grandpa read.
He flinched.
"Hey now, we don't know context," his Grandpa reminded him even as his heart ached. "Come now, Marcus. You have to remember that first impressions never go as we would like them to go."
"I know," he let out, the words heavy with his disappointment and fear. "I just-I was hoping for something more-"
"Romantic?" his Grandpa guessed. He nodded. "Well, when you find them, you'll have to tell me just how romantic it turned out to be."
He laughed and was choked by a sob. "You really think it'll be romantic? 'Pathetic'?"
His Grandpa shrugged, grinning. "I bet it will be something extraordinary for sure. Two sides of the same coin and all that. I'm sure whatever is on your soulmate's wrist will make it all alright. You have a good heart, Marcus, and I believe in it with all of mine."
"Onyx!"
"I see them!" he shouted back, already diving into the first floor of a crumpling building. He felt Jade's ability ripple through the structure as he followed the life lines he could see. Over a crumpled wall, through a half blocked doorway, and up a stairwell that had no stairs for two floors before he found the one worse off. "Third floor. Evac out."
"On it." A different voice. "Show me where."
He ran to the nearest wall and dragged the marker in a massive 'X' over the wall. He turned away as Jade got to work, returning to the life lines. He went to the one he had found and knelt beside them. The life line was fraying but a new strand was fading into existence. He touched the stranger's shoulder, urging gently, "Hold in there, ok? Help is coming to get you out but I have to go save another."
The stranger jerked at that and the new strand's opacity stopped, wavering on the edge of fading in or out of existence. He tightened his grip on their shoulder. "You're not going to die," he stated flatly. "When I step away, you are going to be alone for a whole ten seconds. My teammate it making way for the evac team and they will be at your side stabilizing you before you can worry yourself to death." The new strand popped into existence but it wouldn't hold the person there if the original life line frayed completely. It was out of his hands, though. He had done what he could to make sure they had a chance.
He moved way, catching sight of the evac unit landing at the start of a series of holes Jade had made for them. He moved away from the stranger, stating, "All yours, Garnet."
"How many more?" echoed from the evac unit and his headset.
He dipped back into the stairwell. "One more."
They were hiding in a closet. It was strangely disconcerting but he knelt outside of it, watching the life line. "Hey," he offered gently, "my name's Onyx. I'm with UneTra. I'm here to get you to safety." Not a sound. The life line wavered. "Jade won't be able to support the building for much longer. It would be best if we left now."
A long pause stretched between him and the closet as the only noise that broke it was from the fighting three blocks away. There was chatter on the channel but he was good at ignoring it.
The door opened and he smiled, opening his arms to this stranger. "Let's get you to safety."
The life line suddenly shattered.
He moved without thinking, years of training shoving him forward and around the stranger. He pulled them up and he got lucky as they clung to him instead of fight him.
The explosion threw them out the window but the life line had reformed, so that was good.
Garnet caught him at the height of free fall, dragging them through the air to safety. A second evac appeared and he passed the stranger off.
Garnet's life line caught his attention mid transfer.
It didn't even register in his head what he had done till he was falling again, foot towards the sky and head towards the ground; he had kicked Garnet's wing.
Garnet's life line was starting to fray but it was slow and already there was a new life line solidly there, nothing like the sudden unraveling it had been.
The attack, however, had caused Garnet to let go.
Something kept the impact from doing much harm but it still hurt.
There was a ringing in his ears. It was all he could do to push himself onto his back and crack an eye open. His life line was fraying but the cut end was still very much there so he wasn't overly worried.
He registered someone was standing over him when they shifted their weight. He couldn't tell who they were. Everything beyond his own life line was still blurry.
A foot connected with the center of his chest, kicking the air out of his lungs. He was stunned he didn't hear a crack as he gasped for air. He blinked and the world was suddenly crisp around him.
Above him stood Creed, a supervillain that every Support feared if they were smart. Creed was a top ranked villain and there was a reason.
All he felt was a weariness and the familiar tug when he saw the cut life line.
Creed sneered at him. "Pathetic."
"At least," he gasped out, "I'm not as pathetic as you."
Strange, those were not the words he had meant to say.
There was a ruckus from the 15-year-old's bedroom. Seven boys were all laughing and shouting as four of them played some video game. The eighth boy - the 15-year-old now 16 who's room was full of friends playing - was in the bathroom staring at his wrist.
Ice filled his veins as dread seeped through him. He scrambled to find something to hide the words written on his wrist, ideas of how to keep people from asking rushing through his mind.
He knew it was all futile.
One of his friends had found him mid panic. The news quickly drew the other boys and they were as vicious as he expected. His dad wasn't far behind as his mom sent the seven boys home. His dad's reaction was just as painful as every other word that flew out of the man's throat.
'At least I'm not as pathetic as you.'
He hated those words. He hated them worse than he hated his parents, than he hated society. At least he was able to hide his abilities as they manifested. Now, ten years after that scrawl had shown up on the inside of his wrist, he was anything but pathetic. Nothing like the weak human beneath his shoe. He sneered when he caught sight of a familiar flicker in the man beneath his boot that he had seen in far too many others he had once tried to help. "Pathetic."
"At least," the man gasped, "I'm not as pathetic as you."
Something shot through him so hard and so fast, that he didn't realize he had lifted his boot till it was slamming into the man's chest again as he screamed. He wasn't sure what he had screamed but the man underneath him coughed, wheezed, and met his gaze with one eye barely open against the pain; there were at least two ribs broken now. "Sorry." He blinked. "Not what I-" another cough- "wanted to say."
"What?" escaped his throat drowning in his bewilderment.
He was too distracted to notice the bodies that slammed into him.
The glass was cool against his face as he watched Creed on the other side. The man was pacing back and forth like a caged animal but the life line was what held his attention. Never had he ever questioned what his ability had him do but to spew such awful words to someone whose line had been cut like that?
But it had worked, and he didn't understand why, for the villain's life line was nice and long again.
"Onyx?"
He turned his head, still keeping the one point of contact with the glass he had, to look at the man who had spoken. The speaker had a male and a female companion. "You shouldn't be out of the medical ward."
"Is everything alright?" the female companion inquired. Her tone carried the same concern that was on all three faces but he was sure the concern wasn't there for the same reasons. "Do we need to put him under a stricter watch?"
He pulled away from the window. He knew what she was asking about. This wasn't the first time they had found him at the glass. He wondered if he wore the same hollow gaze now or if it was just that common of a reason for his presence. "No." His voice was raw in his throat and he swallowed against a cough. "He's fine now."
That gained him confused expressions. The male companion clarified, "So his life line had been cut on the field?"
"But what you said to him..." The man looked to the two companions.
He wasn't surprised they had heard his strange words. "I want permission to go in and speak with him."
This gained him suspicious looks. He just looked back at all of them, exhausted. The man glanced at the two companions before giving him a nod. "Five minutes. We'll be recording it."
He nodded. That was to be expected.
What he didn't expect was facing a strangely panicked Creed. He felt the other man's abilities wash over them and knew immediately that whatever happened in the room now was going to stay in that room.
Creed's file was incomplete which meant that the rest of the organization was unprepared if Creed realized it.
"What do you want," the villain snapped, the length of the table between them.
He shrugged, eyes never leaving Creed even as his entire torso screamed at him for shrugging. His exhaustion pulled at him more seeing the other man so tightly wound. "A simple answer, really."
Creed scoffed in his direction. "Oh? And what would that be? Who I really am? What abilities do I have?"
"What are the words on your wrist?"
The reaction was immediate and he blinked, surprised to see Creed gripping at a covered wrist with a grip so tight, he was surprised there hadn't been the audible sound of a bone cracking. "Why the f-"
"Your life line changed." He watched Creed's expression change, how the other's thought process derailed and then kicked back into gear.
"What do you mean my 'life line changed'? What life line?"
He fought the urge to shrug again. His body was still screaming at him. "It's my ability. I can tell when and roughly how someone is going to die by their life line. When its frayed, it means I can coax a new life line into place but not guarantee life. Sometimes fraying will happen in the middle of a life line which means that whatever is killing them won't kill them with proper aid. When it shatters, it means the person is about to die suddenly and whether or not it stays shattered depends on what is going to kill the person; I was able to get a shattered life line to reform by pulling them out of the way of immediate danger." His words stalled briefly. "When it's cut, it means someone will take their own life."
Disbelief was prominent on Creed's face. He was used to that as a first response. "And when exactly did mine change?"
"After I had said something about not being as pathetic as you." He watched as something clashed on Creed's face that he didn't understand and he shook his head, stepping forward. The one arm not in a sling stretched out to his side. 'Pathetic' was faded on his wrist but still clear enough that he knew Creed could read it as the villain's gaze moved to it. "You said mine first, though."
He was certain shock had settled in as the villain pulled at the long sleeve hiding the other's words without looking. Creed brought his wrist up slightly higher than his elbow before breaking his gaze from Marcus's word and looking at whatever had been written on the inside of his wrist.
Marcus watched as the villain just stared.
"Creed?" The villain's gaze snapped up. There was a heavy pause between them before Creed lowered his wrist and Marcus was able to read the fading text upside down. 'At least I'm not as pathetic as you' stared back at him and he found himself smiling. "I'm glad," he offered truthfully, and he looked up, meeting Creed's bewildered expression. Compared to Creed's life line, his looked pathetic with its cut end. He gestured with his word. "Now I don't have to fret over this anymore."
"You're not seriously expecting me to suddenly change my ways and love you?" Creed spat as a knock sounded on the door.
His soft smile grew a bit at that as he shook his head. "No." He started for the door. "Of course not. That would be stupid and impractical. After all..." He wrapped his hand around the door handle and looked back. "You're life line is still far longer than mine and that's on me."
He opened the door and stepped out, cutting off Creed's shout for him to come back with a click of the door shutting.
"Everything alright, Onyx?" The man from before. He was without his companions.
He offered a tired smile. "I should be getting back to the medical ward. Excuse me, Director."
It was a strange relief when the Director didn't stop him.
Find a tale or three or five to read but be warned. It is never easy to see where the plot may be going As the Story Crumbles
Outside the Window
What a potential sequel to This is Halloween 2018 Writing Marathon could entail.
Peter's eldest sees a stranger at the end of the short walk but when he looks, he sees a creature that is very familiar to him. He sends his eldest to rescue his husband from the twins and send said husband his way. But what had happened before the creature's arrival after Peter had taken the hand of a Walker?
Spoiler:“Hey, dad.” He looked over at his eldest finding their gaze out the dining room window. “Who’s that standing at the end of the walk?”
His gaze turned to the window over the sink as he automatically reached up and turned the water off.
Outside the window, the morning was still going strong. What counted as the front yard was illuminated by the streaks of sunlight that made it through the large trees. The street beyond the small yard’s fence was still bustling with morning traffic - both vehicle and foot traffic - but not an eye strayed to stare at the figure standing at the end of the walk at the closed gate.
He turned, drying off his hands. “Go free your Pa of the twins and send him to me. I’ll go greet our guest.”
He watched them leave, a tight expression still on their face of apprehension and confusion. He tucked the towel back into place hoping the hints of pain he had seen as well were from a mild headache rather than the pain he had gone through when he had first met one.
He was pulling on his other shoe when his husband joined him.
“Polaris said you were going to go see about a stranger at our gate?”
“Not sure if you’ll be able to see them. Surprise Laris was, honestly.” He paused, gaze on the wall opposite him. “Surprised I hadn’t felt them.”
“S-Ona?”
He smiled up at his husband. “Always so quick.”
The offered hand was warm beneath his and he let his husband pull him to his feet. “Polaris has met M-Ona before.”
The door handle, in contrast, was cold to the touch. “I had forgotten about that.”
The air was still crisp and cool despite the hour and the handle added to the note that the night had been cold. The stranger at the gate was watching the trees dance in the light breeze drifting through though their attention was on him when the door opened fully. In a form not even remotely human, he was impressed that not a single eye flickered towards his home. Humans eyes were drawn to what they could not see if conscious enough and he knew there were at least three that weren’t children that would be able to see the creature standing at his gate.
“Time has passed graciously and kind, Star Ona,” he offered formally as he stepped off the landing that counted as their porch. “What draws one as you to me once more?”
The large black eyes of the S-Ona narrowed in the equivalent of a human smile. “Can not an old friend say hi, Ilnruk?”
He tapped the side of his nose with a smile. “No old friend of mine stands before me, Star Ona. Velgrath has long since left this Seer be for many kind years. But you know that as I know that. What brings you here, for I know it is not this Seer you are here to see.”
The S-Ona’s eyes narrowed even more till they were nothing more than thick dark lines on their pale head. “There yet has been word of such tongues from you, Ilnruk.” The entire creature’s head moved with their gaze. “Will not the child of one be just as quick?”
He looked beyond his husband to the door, spying his eldest standing in the doorway with the twins. The scowl on the eldest’s face was more annoyance than pain and his smile turned into a grin. The twins darted across the short stretch of sidewalk and plowed into his husband’s legs, tiny hands clinging to fabric as both started talking at once. “Laris,” he spoke out as his husband dealt with their youngests in hushed tones. “Come meet the Star Ona currently giving you a splitting headache.”
“I wouldn’t call it so much splitting as annoying,” Polaris offered, approaching with a wariness he appreciated. “You’re the one that’s been talking to me, then?”
“As it would seem,” the S-Ona spoke. He got the distinct impression the mouthless creature was grinning.
“Then drop the tongues, Arak,” Polaris bit out, “and properly introduce yourself.”
The S-Ona laughed. and those eyes, though wide, conveyed the grin he could feel. “You’ve certainly raised them right, Ilnruk. And you’ve had a good teacher, too. It’s not often we get Seers that can speak so eloquently that I couldn’t resist.” The S-Ona bowed deeply. “I am Elnarak. Velgrath was a dear companion of mine before the situations with you drew them away. I am glad their impression on you and yours has lasted.”
Those dark eyes had briefly flickered up to his husband before settling specifically on the twins. They were still talking but their voices were muffled by magic of their own draw. He could see on his husband’s face that it was only one sided, though, and that they were hearing everything quite well. “Velgrath was extremely potent,” he offered, turning his attention back to Elnarak. “I would be surprised if their touch didn’t touch the children of my children in some way, Seers or otherwise.”
He got the impression that Elnarak was grinning again. “And now it’s my turn,” those dark eyes turned to Polaris, “with them.” Those black eyes were on him again. “But this time the danger ahead is nothing like what you had to be prepared for, Seer.”
Outside the window lightning lit up the night sky. The pouring rain was streaking the window and blurring the city lights he had missed seeing. The glass itself was cool against his forehead as the rumble of thunder made it tremble. A deep breath fogged up the glass beneath his line of sight.
A presence he had missed far more pressed in at his back and he pulled his head away from the glass, straightening his posture as two very familiar arms wrapped around his chest. “Are you going to keep the windows up all night?” a voice asked nonchalant in his ear. “I’m sure they can support themselves.”
A smile pulled at his lips as his gaze focused on where a reflection should be. The lighting was off, obscuring both of their faces. “I apologize, Ezekiel. I had not been paying the time any mind.”
There was a kiss to his neck. “You’ve been lost in thought for hours, love. It’s now approaching three in the morning and we still have a 9am meeting.”
He leaned his head back, weight shifting into the sure body behind him. “I had forgotten about that.”
Another roll of thunder. He wasn’t sure if he was sad or not about missing the lightning that had preceded it.
“What has your attention so tight, love?” that voice softly coaxed.
He sighed. “The Walkers were preparing me for something but since I’ve returned to this….” he made a face, “I don’t know, world? I haven’t been able to figure out what. It feels like it should be obvious but even my Sight isn’t helping me. I can’t See anything. Haven’t since I came back.” The arms tightened around him. He wondered if they were in response to the tension in his own body. “And it scares me.”
“Come to bed, then,” Ezekiel urged. “Please, love. You need sleep. We both do before tomorrow’s meeting. Afterwards I am whisking you away to some beach and we’ll sit and talk about the marriage you promised me three years ago.”
He chuckled. “I did promise you that, didn’t I.” He turned around in that embrace, snaking his arms around someone he never wanted to let go of again. “To bed with us, then. We have a busy day tomorrow.”
Outside the window, the rain had turned into a drizzle but the bright morning sun was already above the layer of clouds leaving the view outside gray and wet. It was certainly better than the chaos of the meeting before him. With a solid foot on the table, he rocked on the back two legs of his chair, glaring at the idiots before him. The few that were actually trying to accomplish something were saved from his wrathful gaze and the touch of magic he couldn’t quite wrangle in.
Ezekiel sat back down with a quiet snarl, glaring at the atrocity of a man at the other end who took Ezekiel’s move as a surrender. Even the uncontrolled touch of his magic did nothing to get the atrocity to fall silent when his glare landed on the man.
“Lord Talmas, unless you have something of use to say, shut the fuck up.”
His voice was sharp, cutting through the atrocity’s words with ease. The magic that rolled with his words got everyone’s attention. He stood slower than he would normally, splayed his hands on the table and leaned into them slower than normal. He let the magic around him thicken and weigh heavy on all of them. His glare remained on Lord Talmas at the other end of the table. “We are here for a reason and I am sick and tired of listening to your pompous ass speak as if you’re important.” The man bristled at that and he stood his full - albeit a bit short - height. “Unless you have something of value to contribute to the actual reason this meeting is being held, sit down, shut up, and listen. The only reason you are here is because of your status, Lord Talmas, and I expect you to act your position and not the entitled little brat you’re behaving like.”
Outrage erupted around him. The thickened magic buried all of them as he sneered at those that had jumped to defend the other man. “You are welcome to leave,” he informed each of them and many of those still seated. “I am not forcing you to stay. However, if you walk out that door, I will make sure that whatever aid we send you takes its sweet ass time getting to each of you specifically. Your people will be fine but you, personally, may perish if you don’t start acting like the leaders you are expected to be. I promise you that.”
Everyone settled as the magic lifted and he fought the urge to sigh. He turned a softer gaze to Madam Van. “We will be proceeding under the impression that the intel you have received is accurate. I would much rather be prepared than caught not. We’ll have to be careful, though. If we do too much, they may move faster than we can keep up with.”
He wasn’t sure why Sight warned him, why Sight showed him moments before it happened, but he went from calmed fury to terrified for Ezekiel’s life at the flip of a switch. Without thinking, he spun from the table, grabbed his fiance’s arm and pulled as magic surged at his command. The explosion slammed into what barrier he could swiftly construct and shattered it. He and Ezekiel were thrown to the floor and his head erupted in pain.
It was like he had become Sight. Everything - past, present, and possible futures - were filling his mind and it was all he could do to keep himself separate from the flashing instances. He witnessed things he knew could happen and witnessed things he prayed never did. There was no point of reference as he watched people he didn’t even know - couldn’t even recognize as a type of being - in a world so unfamiliar deal with horrible or fantastic or breathtaking or heartbreaking things so rapidly over what felt like an eternity - or was it only a few seconds - that he started to forget he was even a person to begin with.
The pain flared and he cried out but none that he saw heard him, his voice lost in the in betweens, lost to the passage of time, and he felt so isolated. The chaos around him seemed to only get more frantic and he wanted to close his eyes, to block it out, but he had no eyes to close.
“Come on. Just a bit more, Ilnruk.”
He was standing. Multiple scenes were happening around him barely an arm’s distance away from him, but he was standing and he had a body again.
“Good. Good. This is good.”
The voice echoed about him but it was hard to tell if it was in his head or in the space he was occupying. He looked around despite only seeing different scenes everywhere he looked. “What’s good?!” he shouted back. “Who are you?! What’s going on?!”
“Introductions when you are more stable. Now, Ilnruk, focus. Work with the Sight. It does not have to control you.”
“How?” He didn’t care the word carried his desperation. “I don’t even know what’s going on!”
There was a heavy pause as several thousand, very violent, very horrible things showed around him in rapid succession. “Despite our lack of time, I’ll start you off from the beginning. Breathe deep and slow. Breathe, Ilnruk, and be still.”
Outside the window, the sky held a spattering of clouds. The sky itself was dark, like the sun was at the edge of the horizon. He knew it was early morning. He knew it was early morning 17 days after he had yanked Ezekiel from harm. He knew what had filled those 17 days for the world but, more importantly, he knew what had transpired in his home and around it. A debilitating headache made it hard for him to even want to move but he moved anyways.
Ezekiel’s gaze was where he looked for it, meeting that bewildered gaze steadily. He didn’t have to look to see the scarring around the man’s throat, the raw look to his hands, the clothing that was somebody else’s and dirtied with dust, grime, and blood that was and wasn’t his own. Most of it wasn’t his own. He didn’t have to ask to know what his fiance had lived through, what had happened in his absence, and he wasn’t sure if he cared enough to hate that fact at the moment.
He would later.
Ah, yeah, he hated it.
“Peter,” fell off his fiance’s tongue rough and choked. The man was at his side but he was already getting out of bed, hands up and pulling the other man in for a tight embrace he knew the other needed.
With the other man’s face buried into his neck and shoulder, he looked at the only other figure in the room. “Velgrath. Star Ona are not supposed to be getting involved. You know this.”
The S-Ona smiled the only way they do. “And yet I am here anyways.” Those black eyes became their normal shape, focused a stare on him that was neutral, expectant. "Welcome back, Ilnruk.“
"I’m glad to be back.” He meant it. “But now we have work to do.”
“Velgrath has told me some of what had been happening to you,” Ezekiel offered as he pulled away. “What should I expect?”
“For this to be chaotic and seemingly hopeless before it works,” he offered truthfully. “If we act now and act quickly, we can get the desired outcome with as little death as possible.” He started for the door. “We have to speak with Brekon first.”
A hand wrapped around his wrist and he looked back at Ezekiel. “Peter, Warren-”
“I know.” There wasn’t much time and they were wasting it. He rolled his arm over in the hold and gave Ezekiel’s arm a squeeze. “Do your best not to fight me in what I’m about to do. It will work.” He locked eyes with Velgrath. The S-Ona was waiting already knowing what was about to happen. “The execution of it all will probably be a bit messy.”
Ezekiel’s expression didn’t lose the worry.
Outside the window, the summer heat was coming off the patio in waves distorting the view beyond. Soft chatter behind him reminded him of where he was and what he was doing. He turned only to be startled to find Ezekiel barely a step away. The man’s hands were wrapped around his arms as he swayed a bit too far off balance from the mild fright. He offered an embarrassed grin. “Sorry. You startled me,” he offered lamely.
Ezekiel’s expression was surprisingly controlled as the other man offered him a soft smile. “I noticed. I came over to see if you wanted anything to eat. You barely touched any of your breakfast.”
He shook his head, hands splaying themselves on Ezekiel’s well dressed chest. “I’m ok for now. Thank you, though.” His gaze went to those in the room.
Warren and Brekon were on the couch asleep both heavily covered by blankets that hid the serious injuries they had both sustained. Hidden even by bandages were the pale starburst markings of Velgrath’s gift to them both at the cost of the S-Ona’s existence. Pandora was sitting with Madam Van, the young boy he had briefly met an hour ago asleep on her lap. He knew Aiden was somewhere close in the freshly repaired mansion toting around the two little girls and smallest boy that made up the rest of his and Pandora’s little family. Probably the kitchen if Ezekiel’s mention of wanting anything to eat was anything to go by. The three M-Ona were still huddled around his journals for some reason, Pandora and Aiden’s eldest boy smack dab in the middle of the trio wide eyed.
He didn’t recognize the seven other moving bodies in the room but that was probably fine.
He looked back at Ezekiel and briefly wondered how long he had been lost in thought. Ezekiel’s touch was still on his arms, gentle and soothing and oh so patient. He smiled up at him. “Sorry. Being without Sight and magic seems to have robbed me of more than I thought.”
Ezekiel pressed a kiss to his forehead. “I doubt you were robbed of anything but those, love. Come. The others will be joining us soon.”
Outside the window the snow was drifting through the still night air. He felt Ezekiel shift on the bed behind him but the small body resting against his chest kept him awake at the dead of night. He had to concentrate to get magic to warm the blankets a bit more and he felt both bodies relax again. He returned his attention to the snow and waited.
Nothing came. No vision of a moment, no impression of events to come, no understanding that he shouldn’t know. Nothing. No voice, no presence, no swell of magic.
Instead he found the exhaustion that comes with raising a child barely in school and twin babes. He found the quiet hum of magic far softer than the magic he had grown accustom to. He found a peace he had never known had existed till he had everything that had made him who he was ripped away and then shoved back into his arms.
All but Sight.
He shifted in the bed, settling the little body against Ezekiel’s chest before curling around the small child and into Ezekiel’s chest himself.
But that was to be expected. Sight had left all that had possessed it. It would be a long time before it returned to any again like that.
The little body between him and Ezekiel burrowed deeper into the warmth in its sleep.
Well, that depended on perspective. To the Ona, it would be a brief pause in Earth’s existence before Sight would be needed again.
Find a tale or three or five to read but be warned. It is never easy to see where the plot may be going As the Story Crumbles
Playing with Fire
It had been years since he had last seen his old friend. In all honesty, he hadn't realized how long till said friend walked into the inn's common space and sat down beside him looking far more male than the gender neutral he remembered from their early years together. What history is there is glossed over as he's coaxed into telling his old friend just what they were about to get into. He hoped that he and his old friend would be enough, though. They couldn't underestimate this city's populous.
Spoiler:The lute strings sang under his fingers and the words of some song fell from his lips without him being overly aware of what exactly it was he was performing. The common space was full, though, and there were people singing along or chatting happily with companions and strangers so he figured he was in the clear with paying more attention to the people than his music.
Bodies were constantly moving throughout the space so the figure entering shouldn't have drawn his eye as they had. Many here wore hoods for whatever reason but this figure seemed off to him. None of the other patrons noticed. Heck, the figure cut right through a talking pair and the duo didn't so much as blink at the figure. This way and that the figure weaved and this way and that he tracked their progress till the figure was sitting at the table he had claimed for himself, a pretty metal bowl on the table for tips. It had a decent amount in it. He hoped it was enough to leave him a few gold richer when he paid the owners for putting up with him.
He let the little gaunt end and the room erupted into cheers. He grinned and tucked the lute away as one of the staff came over bearing a tray of food. He hadn't ordered and he certainly hadn't seen his new companion order anything either.
"Well played, minstrel," the young dwarf offered, placing the food on the table. Apparently someone was buying him a meal because he had already eaten what he had paid for a few hours ago. "Seems the room took a liking to ya." As if to solidify the point, a few patrons darted in and dropped a few coins into the bowl. He caught sight of the glint of gold and was humbled as much as he was grateful.
He offered the dwarf a smile. "I have you and yours to thank for that. Let your ma know I'll get the coin separated out and to her before I'm done here."
The dwarf nodded, offering a quick, "Will do," before heading to the kitchen.
He turned to his new companion, arching an eyebrow at them. "Meal from you or a different admirer, Soren?"
The figure smiled, tugging the hood back and away. He belatedly realized the cloak was wet. Must have started raining. "Good to see you too, Verena."
He grinned. "Hey, I didn't order any of this." Soren chuckled, low and deep. Verena's gaze flickered over the other, taking in the changes the years had done. Vey still had a head of red hair, skin still darker than what he remembered of veir father's, but what softness that had been there making the other's lack of gender obvious wasn't there. "Presenting more male nowadays?"
The amusement left Soren's expression and he gained a shrug as an answer. "Makes it easier to get by most of the time."
He frowned, watching as Soren closed off to him. His pulse quickened and for a fleeting moment fear gripped his soul. "Soren." He didn't gain the other's gaze like he had hoped and he reached out, grabbing at their arm. "Soren," he repeated. Those amber brown eyes finally focused on him. "What's wrong? What happened?"
"A lot. Most of it not good."
His heart fell at that. "Ah, Soren." He shook his head, removing his touch. "You should have said no when I reached out."
Soren shook his head in turn. "It's nice remembering what I can of the times before the bad. Besides, it sounded like you really needed the help."
"I would have asked for help elsewhere but when I had heard of what you've been doing, I had hoped you'd come with company."
Another shake no. "We were in the middle of serious business that, in the end, turned to being safer that I came alone. I've got ways to reach out to them if we need assistance or when I'm heading back." Soren fixed him with an accusing look. "It hadn't sounded like it would need much force. We're just going after some kid, yeah?"
"An Aarakocra so age isn't really something we can go off."
"An Aarakocra."
His gaze flickered across the room before he nodded towards a patron not far off. "Winged. Looks more like a bird than a human. The winged human two tables to the left is an Aasimar."
"Hmm." It took a moment for Soren's gaze to return to him. "So we're going after some Aarakocra. Why?"
Verena leaned back in his chair, cup in hand. "I owe Zerros a favor and his wife's family owns this inn. They had sent this Aarakocra - Artemis, if I'm remembering correctly - off on some courier trip but haven't seen a single feather of him since. He's somehow a friend of the family despite him only having been here because of the caravan he was riding with. Caravan leader is a family friend, apparently."
"Why send us in and not the city guard or something?"
Verena arched an eyebrow over the rim of his cup. He let his chair fall back onto four legs as he put the emptier cup down. "You don't know much about the town we're in, do ya?"
Soren arched an eyebrow. "Wouldn't be asking if I did."
Verena grinned. "Town's built on the Black Market," he explained, voice low to the point where Soren was forced to lean closer; "quite literally in some areas. Place is an intense maze of buildings and back alleys despite it's small size. Most things are tall because the surrounding lands are extremely fertile for crops and no one wanted to encroach on the farmlands but the number of people coming and staying kept increasing. So, they built skyward."
"Quite literally how?" Soren asked equally quiet.
"There's some hidden history here but from what I've overheard, there'd been a city in the area. A massive city. Something had happened that came in and not only killed everyone who lived here but also sank the city beneath a good layer of earth. What remains of that city has created a cavern system that's almost like catacombs beneath our feet and it houses a lot of the Black Market for the surrounding areas."
"So we're infiltrating this Black Market and freeing an Aarakocra that, what, looks like an eagle?"
Verena shook his head. "A barn swallow. It's a small blue and copper colored bird with a forked tail. Unusual in these parts from what I've been told. Supposedly Artemis is from the southern continent."
"Hmm." Soren leaned back, crossing his arms. "When do we leave then?"
"Do you need to rest?"
"No. I had camped not too far off so the walk was easy. I'm good to go whenever."
"Cool. Let's finish eating then and I'll go get my things and drop off what I owe to June."
Just over an hour later they found themselves beneath the city. Verena's tail was wrapped tightly around Soren's belt only because Soren had warned him about the high possibility of getting burned holding onto veir wrist. They were standing in the shadows of a tunnel that crossed the one they needed but there were people there talking. Verena crouched closer to the ground as the voices got louder, Soren pulling back to as far as Verena's tail could reach before following suit.
The duo they had been waiting on walked by without even noticing too caught up in their conversation. Verena didn't recognize the language and he didn't ask if Soren did.
Deeper into the maze they went, finding that it wasn't just one level when the floor caved in under Soren's feet. Verena was yanked in after vem. They came across stairs that led another level down.
An unusually warm hand gripped at his tail and he froze, suddenly alert, but the only thing that happened was Soren getting close and whispering into his ear, "Next left. Should lead us somewhere." He frowned back at Soren, who shrugged. "I'm running off of a hunch of what I remember of the upper levels. Just go with it."
Verena raised both eyebrows at that but followed Soren's words. He took the next left and followed it, keeping straight when Soren made no move to correct his direction.
Somewhere was right. Verena found the tunnel ending at a door and the amount of noise coming from beyond it proved Soren's statement lacking. With a quick glance back at his companion, Verena opened the door enough to see.
The room beyond was massive compared to what they had been traveling through. The room itself was two levels high and the noise beyond didn't echo horribly like it should have. Crates, cages, and containers filled the space of varying sizes. Bodies were moving everywhere, whether it was moving freight about or simply walking through. A few bodies were stagnant here and there but attentions were nowhere near the door he and Soren were at.
"Damn," Soren hissed, as Verena closed the door. "Ideas?"
"One. But I don't know how useful it'll be."
"Try me."
He started digging through his pack. "I know a spell, concentration based that I can hold for about ten minutes. Let's me see and hear what's going on around the target. Only," he pulled out a copper tinged down feather and tucked it into his braid for safe keeping before he went back to digging, "I haven't had the chance to get a focus for it yet."
"What kind of focus?"
He looked up at Soren, "A crystal ball or a silver mirror, the expensive kind. Like, at least 1,000 gold pieces expensive kind." He went digging again. "A holy water font would work too but I have neither a font nor that amount of holy water."
A water skin bumped his arm and he stared at it, bewildered, before looking up at Soren again. The other shrugged. "Endless supply of holy water. A gift from a friend blessed by Silvanus and enchanted by the Fae Queen. There's only one other like it and I am to return this to said friend as soon as I'm heading back to my company."
His hands wrapped around the water skin in shock. Standing abruptly, he uncapped the water skin and pressed the opening against the palm of his hand. He flipped the whole thing over and let magic do the rest.
The change in perspective was jarring but he had sight of a small Aarakocra with a coppery toned off white chest, blue feathers rich around the copper red feathers of the face and throat. The stout wings and deep forked tail were black from the underside. He bristled at how the small being was strung out, stout wings flat and open wide against the bars of some cage, tail clamped open. Nothing appeared clipped yet, which was a blessing in its own right, but it was clear there had been some rough treatment already.
He shuddered feeling Soren's hand on his tail and it took him a second to get both sensory inputs to agree. It turned into where his focus went, like one was a window with a scene and the other was the stage performance before him. The sounds stayed. Soren's expression was worried as he met veir gaze. "I'm ok. I can split it, be here and there but I have to focus to see one or the other. The sounds will blend but I can keep quiet. I can move. The spell will follow Artemis if he's moved."
Soren nodded. "What do you see?"
Verena turned his focus back to Artemis and looked around. "Cage with thick bars. I can see through them, see the room beyond. I'm trying to see if there's anything significant in the area I can use to get us there."
The perspective was horrible and even when he moved the spell to the edge of the spell's tether, he still couldn't make anything significant out.
The roar made him jump but it was faint when he came back to Soren, eyes wide as adrenaline shot through him. "Artemis is in a cage close to that sound. We'll have to just run in and head for it. I should recognize the area when we get close enough but I don't have anything else to lead us with."
"Stay close then."
Another roar tore through the space as Soren opened the door. What had been a room of organized and calm action was now utter chaos. There were bodies running all over the place, creatures throwing their voices to the noise of the space, and Verena stumbled after Soren when the other took off at a run. For a moment, his heart leapt into his throat. Someone was bound to stop them.
But Soren was running straight towards the roars, body thrumming with determination so potent, Verena could make it out from behind him and he realized what Soren was doing. No one was going to bother them as long as he followed Soren's silent lead.
He cut the spell when he gained sight of Soren from the cage's perspective. He overtook Soren, coming to the edge of the cage as another roar erupted into the space. They were at the back wall of the large space but there was an open doorway next to Artemis's cage. Beyond it was a short hallway or tunnel that opened into a different space. He could make out the flicker of firelight.
"A dragon," Soren spoke for him. He met Soren's amber brown eyes and the other grinned at him. "No better distraction than their own merchandise. How good are you with locks?"
Verena blinked. "Depends. Am I trying to be stealthy?" Soren gave him a bewildered look and he rushed, "I know a spell - Knock. It's well named as it gives off a very loud knock sound when it unlocks something. I've got enough magic to use it on all of Artemis's bindings and cage but it won't be stealthy."
Another roar drew both their gazes and Verena caught the mischievous grin out of the corner of his eye. "Time it with the roars. We should be fine."
Verena moved into place, asking, "And if the roars stop?"
Soren's right hand ignited. "I can make sure they don't."
Verena sent him a worried look. A roar ripped through the space and he almost missed the chance. The cage door unlocked as a loud knock blended with the roar. Verena's heart was in his throat. "Soren, I don't think that's a good idea. We're already in the pan. No need to go playing with the fire, too."
Soren laughed. "Ren, playing with fire is in my blood. It's who and what I am." Another loud roar, another knock as the lock on Artemis's tail came undone. The Aarakocra didn't even twitch from any of the sounds around him. "Just get the kid to safety."
Soren took off down the hallway at a quick pace. Verena's tail flicked anxiously behind him, waiting. Four- no, five more locks and they could leave. He just hoped Soren could get either long enough roars or the right number for him to get Artemis out of there.
Screams suddenly echoed down the hallway but the bellowed roar was far louder and he managed two locks with the two loud knocks within it. His heart clenched. "Please be careful, Soren," he muttered to himself, hands running over the Aarakocra looking for injuries as he waited for the next roar. "I don't want to exchange your life for his."
Another roar, only one lock.
"It wouldn't be fair."
Find a tale or three or five to read but be warned. It is never easy to see where the plot may be going As the Story Crumbles
Something begins, Something ends
The last box was taped and taken by the movers. Now she was left to say goodbye to the one soul she really didn't want to leave behind.
Spoiler:Movement. Bodies. Everything was organized chaos. Chatter filled the home, echoes of laughter chasing the minutes that ticked by. Heavy feet trudged paths into every room, to every corner of the home, back and forth, back and forth. The packaging tape unraveling, boxes being dragged, and the crinkling of paper filled the room as she kept working, matching the tempo of the rest of the bodies in the home as best she could.
“Last one?” someone asked, a pair of feet stopped a respectful distance away as she taped the flaps shut.
“Yeah. All yours,” she confirmed, standing and moving back.
The person picked the box up and left, leaving her to register the question fully.
The room was bare save for the old furniture being left behind; any signs that there had been anything more were few and hard to see. The noises in the home quieted, mimicking the silence of her own thoughts as she stood there staring into space..
“You alright?”
She looked towards the familiar voice and smiled. “Yeah. Just thinking. Kind of.” Her gaze drifted around the room again. “I keep expecting this to start feeling weird but,” she focused back on him, the smile returning, “I guess it really is time for me to move out.”
“Is that supposed to feel weird?”
She grinned at that. “Probably not but I keep expecting it to feel like it. Don’t get me wrong. It’s weird to think this is the last time I’ll be in this room but there’s not the…dreamlike sensation that I keep thinking should be associated with it. I lived here for so long and so much has happened and yet it seems oddly easy to finally leave it all behind.”
He finally entered the room, chuckling as she sat on the bed. “You know,” he offered, perching on the bed next to her, “they say that when something begins, something ends; an equivalent exchange of sorts.” He met her curious gaze. “Maybe it doesn’t feel weird because this is what is supposed to happen. There’s nothing left for you here and so much more waiting for you there.”
“You’re still here,” she pointed out, the words coming out edging on a whisper.
He chuckled again. “Well, yes, but that can’t be helped.”
“Come with me?” she tried one last time.
She held his gaze when he looked at her again; his gaze was sorrowful but determined. “You know I can’t. It’ll be better if I stayed here. That way they can’t follow you there.”
She accepted his words. After all, they had spent long enough arguing about it that she had been expecting the answer. Didn’t hurt to try, at least. “Will you be ok?”
He nodded. “I’ll leave as soon as you’re clear of the state.” He looked out the window. “Speaking of: the movers are gone and you have a plane to go catch.” He stood up. “Come on. I’ll walk you to the door.”
“Beckett.” He stilled at the door, looking back. She stood at the edge of the bed, a hand clasped around her necklace. “You’ll protect the next family, right? No more deaths?”
He offered her an encouraging smile. “No more deaths,” he assured her. “Mine will be the last one caused by their hands.”
She searched his face looking for anything that would tell her he was lying. A determined look crossed her face and she pulled the necklace off.
He took a startled step towards her, reaching out. “Brittney-”
She smiled at him. “I still hate that name, you know.” His hand lowered back to his side as she held the necklace tight. “I want to leave this behind just in case. So that you have something to help you protect the next family.”
He shook his head. “You don’t-”
“I know I don’t have to, but I want to.” She stepped around him, through the hall, and down the stairs to the front door. There was a small trash pile by the door and the breath mints tin was still there. With quick hands, she wrapped the necklace in a strip of fabric from the pile of trash before tucking it into the tin. She then wrapped the tin in a chunk of torn cling wrap. Getting to her feet, she opened the door and stepped out onto the balcony. The air smelled of rain. She hurried down the steps and hooked around the right railing into the flowerbed. It looked far more welcoming than it had when her mom had first bought the place. She reached to the middle of the dirt patch under the stairs and made a hole as deep as her hand could reach. The tin made a faint plopping sound at the bottom of her crude hole and she put the dirt back, packing it back in as best she could at the odd angle. She brushed her hands off on her pants as she returned to the walk, looking at the door. He was standing there watching her with curious eyes. She grinned at him. “Now you can tell them where it is if they need it.”
“And if I’m no longer here?”
She shrugged. “Then it’ll help protect the house.” She stopped at the door. He hadn’t moved away and she had yet to treat him as anything other than another person. “Beckett, I need my bag.”
He sighed heavily. “I know but you’re vulnerable now.”
She reached out and despite the fact that her hand went through his, she knew the intent was perceived. “I’ll be just fine. You’re more than enough to keep them back now.”
His expression spoke loudly of how much he didn’t like this but he did step back.
She didn’t miss the fact that his hand briefly gained some semblance of solid as he took a hold of her hand and gave it a squeeze. “Be quick.”
She crossed the ten feet to her bag and jacket and was back out the door before she could take a second breath. His hand slipped from hers at the door and she turned to face him again. She could barely make out the stairs through him now. “That should be everything.”
He smiled at her. “I hope life is kind to you, Bree.”
“And may the afterlife be kind to you, Beckett.” She slung her bag onto her shoulder and walked down the steps. She didn’t look back till she was on the sidewalk outside of the home’s property. She was saddened to see the front door closed and the house looking empty. Beckett was nowhere to be seen.
She turned and started for the bus station. She had faith that Beckett would be fine but she had hoped to see him one last time before leaving him behind for good. Hopefully he wouldn’t be tied to the house for much longer, too.
Find a tale or three or five to read but be warned. It is never easy to see where the plot may be going As the Story Crumbles
Bittersweet
Death can't be avoided but love can. When Garlock falls in battle, Soren finally says the words he should have said months ago.
Spoiler:They shouldn’t have split up. They should have stayed with the rest of the group or been more prepared. They should have been-
The last body thudded against the ground unmoving and for a moment Soren stood there in a fighting stance panting. Everything hurt, exhaustion made his body feel like it was made of lead, and the fact that he was still on his feet was a miracle he wasn’t going to question. But a wet cough from behind him shot movement back through his body and the borrowed sword clattered to the ground as he ran back to his companion.
“Garlock,” came out choked and pained as he knelt on scraped knees. His hands shook as he pressed against the massive wound bleeding Garlock dry. He gained a low moan but very little else from the orc. Tears stung the back of his eyes and blurred his vision. The fight had been too long, had drained him of every drop of magic. Now he was left to watch the other die. “Come on. Don’t die on me. Hilde’ll be here soon.”
Why hadn’t he saved enough magic for one last spell? He had taken on the spell just in case - he even had the materials for it - but without magic, the materials were nothing but dead weight in his bag.
Another wet cough but this time one of those emerald eyes opened enough to look at him. The corner of Garlock’s mouth ticked up. Soren couldn’t tell if it was a grimace or an attempt to smile. “Don’t think…I have much choice, Soren,” Garlock whispered, voice raw and words weak lacking any real air to support them. A wet cough stole more of his strength. It took far too long for that emerald eye to open again. “You’ll tell…you’ll tell her I’m sorry…won’t you? That I…I waited…as best I could.”
The sob tore itself from his chest. He choked on it, denying it as he shook his head. Tears streaked down his face but he didn’t notice. “You’ll tell her yourself, you idiot. She’ll be here in time. You’re going to be fine.”
Lies. Every word. And they both knew it. They had strayed too far.
A grimy hand pressed against the side of his head, his cheek, and he pinned it there with one covered in the other’s blood as another sob escaped him. “Hey,” Garlock croaked. Soren could hear the struggle when Garlock pulled a breath in. He hated it. “I’m sorry I couldn’t….couldn’t be strong enough…to wait for you, too.”
“No,” escaped his chest, overtaking the sob that had wanted to escape instead.
“That I…wasn’t strong enough to…to stay by your side…love.”
The hand went lax in his grip and he shook his head violently. He pressed the hand into his shoulder, pinning it there. “Don’t apologize for that! I should’ve-” he choked on the words- “I should have told you, should have gotten off that damn fence and finally told you I love you.” He couldn’t see the other through the tears any more but Garlock’s fingers curled slightly, some of the strength returning. “I should have told you months ago and I-” Sobs stole his ability to speak and he curled forward, pressing his forehead against Garlock’s shoulder.
The hand he had pinned to his shoulder moved into his hair, fingers quaking as they carded through the filthy strands. “Hey…it’s ok.”
Soren jerked back but pain flared in his back from some wound he had forgotten about. It kept him close as he glared through the tears. “No it’s not! I led you on with the hope that someday I’d say it back and I never did! Not until I couldn’t say it a thousand times for the rest of eternity.” The words died on his tongue. The sobs took their place.
“Oh, love,” Garlock sighed. There was slight pressure from Garlock’s hand and Soren rested his forehead against the other’s. “You could…still tell me now.”
No matter how weak those words had been, he heard the joy, the teasing, and the chuckle tangled with the next sob. He blinked his vision clear enough to meet Garlock’s gaze as the amusement and amazement cut through the sorrow. It didn’t stop the tears but it brought a watery smile to his face. “I love you,” he offered, pouring his heart into every word. “I love you so much, Garlock.”
Garlock smiled up at him but the hand at the back of Soren’s head lost its strength. “I’m so happy.” Soren lowered the hand to Garlock’s chest. His tears mingled with Garlock’s on the orc’s cheeks. “I love you too, Soren.” Soren pulled back as another cough tore at Garlock. When the orc settled, that emerald eye didn’t open. Every breath got weaker, rattling and wheezing in and out. “Loved you both.” More tears raced down Garlock’s cheeks. “Bittersweet…as it was.”
It was like a blow to the chest he couldn’t breathe through. “I’m so sorry, Garlock,” he urged, touching the other’s face, wiping away the tears.
“Love…you,” cut through before he could keep going.
“I love you too,” he offered around a strangled sob, pressing a kiss to Garlock’s lips. “I love you.” A kiss to a cheek. “I love you.”
The chest beneath him stilled.
He was fairly certain he had screamed. His throat certainly ached and his chest was tight like he had wailed for a long time after but he couldn’t remember as the sound of hurried footfall pulled him out of the exhausted dozing he had fallen into.
He had managed to get himself sitting before a body collided with him, though it probably only felt like it due to how tired he was and the amount of pain that flared from the contact. The smell of herbs, wood, and a hint of electricity filled his senses and he clung to Hilde, a fresh wave of sobs overtaking him. An oddly detached thought questioned why she was clinging to him and not trying to save Garlock. He knew it would have been wasted but she wouldn’t know that.
Maybe she did because her hands were firm against him and warm with healing magic. Maybe she did because her voice wavered as she tried to get him to talk, to tell her what had happened as she tended to his wounds. Maybe she did because when she couldn’t do anything more, she clung to him just as desperately, sobbing just as hard for whatever few minutes they had left before they had to move on.
Find a tale or three or five to read but be warned. It is never easy to see where the plot may be going As the Story Crumbles
A Force to be Reckoned With
Sometimes the past comes back to haunt you in person. Caught unaware but among friends, Soren is pinned down by the neck by a man he could have sworn he would never see again. But as his friends move to his aid, Soren can't let his past harm his future.
Spoiler:Alok stood abruptly first but it was only by half a second. Aelfwyne stood with him, both reaching for daggers with different degrees of confusion and some form of anger on their faces as they glared down something over Soren's head. There were words on their lips, warnings, but whatever they had seen moved too quickly, or they were just too slow to react.
Soren sat up straight, Garlock's arm falling from around him but that was all the reaction he was permitted. A searing pain flared at the back of his neck as he was forcibly shoved into the table and pinned to the wood by a hand full of ice magic.
If he cried out in pain or in fear, he was deaf to it.
Memories - buried, horrible memories - resurfaced with a vengeance and for one horrifying moment he wondered if the last three years had all been some twisted farce because there was no way - none, not a chance; it couldn't-shouldn't be him, there was no way it was him - it was the man he knew had just pinned him to the table by the back of his neck.
But just as suddenly as the hand had appeared, it vanished and he looked back in time to see Hilde follow through with a punch she had connected with the man's - no, why, please - face. Surprisingly, though, the man slammed into his people, a cry of pain escaping as the man recoiled from the hit. The man gingerly touched what was most likely a broken nose, blood steaming down his face. The rage that filled the man's eyes, though, got turned onto the wrong person.
Hilde was standing between Soren and the man, feet planted and staff in hand. The other hand - the one she had connected with the man’s face - was shaken out, as if her hand stung from the blow. But even if he trusted her to hold her own - be it magic or melee - he didn’t dare let the man try.
"Submit!" Soren Commanded, the spell slamming into the man still nursing a bleeding nose. Soren found himself braced against an arm and realized Garlock had put a protective arm across his chest. He couldn't remember grabbing at it, let alone pressing against it in his attempt to get to Hilde, to put himself between her and that man. Soren vaguely registered he was quaking against Garlock's arm.
Said man snarled against the spell, turning that anger on Soren. Soren increased the spell's strength and repeated the Command, though this time the word lacked the frantic energy that had bolstered the last one. "Submit," rolled off his tongue as the magic wrapped around his target. The man briefly lost his rage and sank to his knees, as did two of his persons. He sucked in a breath before confirming what he guessed Garlock and Hilde were probably suspecting. "Cyrus."
The spell was fleeting, relinquishing its hold as soon as the command was met. But where Cyrus's two people returned to their feet, Cyrus remained on his knees. The man grinned at him. "Soren." The man all but purred his name and he suppressed the shudder as best he could. "How has life been since you ran away?" The glint in the man's gaze was the only warning he got. "Has my genasi been happily spreading its legs for its new Master?"
There was a surge of movement around him and a different panic filled him. "No!" escaped his throat just as severe as any Command but there was no magic behind it. Regardless, those that had surged forward to defend him stilled. Hilde was still firmly planted between him and Cyrus, unmoving and clearly ready for a fight but he did gain her gaze, though it was partial and over her shoulder.
Cyrus laughed. Soren was unable to hide the shudder that raced through him. “Well, well,” Cyrus drawled, amused as he slowly got to his feet. The grin that stretched across the man’s face was not kind. “Looks like you’ve found yourself quite the company, genasi. Did you buy them or did they buy you? I doubt it was anything mutual.”
It was Hilde’s voice that answered, unnaturally calm with the given situation. "No one needs to be bought in order to find better company." Hilde's eyes narrowed as she turned back to Cyrus. "And last time I checked, he isn't yours."
"He belongs to no one," Garlock pitched in, voice low and threatening. Pinned to Garlock's front had the orc's voice vibrating through his back and it soothed the edges of the painful memories. Soren closed his eyes and worked to get himself back under control. "And you will never have him again."
Cyrus gave a bark of a laugh and a cold rage started to replace the panic and fear. "You think you lot are enough to keep it out of my grasp?
He opened his eyes finally in a mindset he wished he had ended up in when Cyrus had first grabbed him. Calmer and annoyed, Soren took a step forward. Garlock’s arm tightened around him but he gave the orc a soft smile and a softer, “I’m alright. I’m just going to talk with him.”
“Please,” Cyrus drawled. “I've easily dealt with threats for things far more valuable. That genasi is nothing more than unfinished business and you will not keep it from me."
Garlock frowned, the anger and concern warring on the other’s face. For half a second he expected Garlock to fight him, to tell him no and keep him pinned there, but Garlock’s arm fell away and Soren was left a pace ahead of Garlock.
When he approached Hilde’s side, he was not surprised to hear Garlock stepping up behind the both of them.
“Enough, Cyrus. What do you want?”
Cyrus sneered at him. “Really? You have to ask.”
He raised an eyebrow at that. “I highly doubt one measly genasi held your interested enough to chase after, unfinished business aside.” He caught Hilde shifting beside him and he wondered if it was due to his phrasing. Not that he was going to be overly kind for this conversation. “We’re a dime a dozen according to you.”
“A dime a-you were going to go for more than any whore I sold!” Cyrus spat, taking a step forward and pointing a finger at Soren. Hilde and Garlock impressed Soren by staying in place but even he could tell that it had been a fight to do so. “A fire genasi like you, burned and far more human than the others was an oddity - an interest point for a number of sellers. Your ability to shift between male and female so easily made you especially tantalizing.”
Soren scoffed at that, waving the comment off. “Any genasi can do that.”
“Over a few months and with some difficulty,” Cyrus corrected, the words arrogant, like he had the upper hand again, “but you could do it in less than an hour with apparent ease. And that makes you as rare as they come.” There was a laugh in the following words. “You truly do not know how valuable you are, how rare you are, which makes you a prized possession on the auction block.”
Soren glanced at his companions, curious. Most were glaring at Cyrus or the man’s goons, but when they caught his gaze, they acknowledged him. Alok and Soala gave a stoic nod, Aelfwyne gained a grin full of bloody promises, and Rava smiled from around her drawn bow, giving a sharp nod. Hilde and Garlock’s expressions were serious but both reached out; Hilde gave his hand a squeeze and Garlock placed a hand on his shoulder. None of them were letting Cyrus take him anywhere.
Soren returned his attention to Cyrus. He shrugged. “Well, unfortunately for you, I’m not one of your slaves to sell.”
“Do not test me, genasi. I trained you to submit to me and I know that training is still there.”
Soren returned the man’s glare with a dark look. “Oh, the training’s still there, but that doesn’t mean you can control me with it.”
Cyrus gave another bark of a laugh. “Want to bet?”
A vicious grin stretched across his face. “I wouldn’t if I were you, Cyrus.” The man’s name came off softer yet heavily emphasized. If the man didn’t take this seriously, it wasn’t on Soren. “I am stronger and far more capable than I had been the last time you had seen me and my companions are a force to be reckoned with. You try and follow through with your desire, you will not leave here alive.”
Not that the man would remain alive for long. Soren wanted him dead if for nothing more than the assurance that Cyrus couldn’t sell anymore people.
Unfortunately - or fortunately - Cyrus hadn’t changed and pulled a nasty looking scimitar in response. Soren sighed. He chuckled, shaking his head. With a smirk at Cyrus, he offered, “Don’t say I didn’t warn ya.”
A well aimed arrow shot past Hilde’s head, embedding itself into Cyrus’s shoulder. A second arrow came from Soren’s left - Alok must have pulled his own bow - and as that arrow took out one of Cyrus’s goons, two very pissed displacer beasts materialized. A growl from behind spoke of a Grim coming out to play as well.
Soren was certain this was the first time true fear showed itself on Cyrus’s face, even if it was just for a second.
Find a tale or three or five to read but be warned. It is never easy to see where the plot may be going As the Story Crumbles
Springtime Joy
He could live for another thousand of her kind's generations and he would probably still be thinking of her. She had changed his perspective and while there may have been a time he resented that, he couldn't dream of ever relinquishing the gift she had given him. If only his kind wasn't as long lived as it was. Then maybe he could help them be better than her kind.
Spoiler:He turned his face towards the still rising star, closing his eyes so that he could focus on the warmth he could feel on his face. Where the darker material of his body absorbed the heat greedily, the material of his head warmed slowly from the sun’s touch.
“What are you doing.”
Amusement filled him at the disapproving tone of the other. He had grown used to driving them all crazy with the habits he had picked up from her and found he enjoyed it more and more as time went on. His kind were certainly stubborn and deserved all the discomfort he could allot them.
“Enjoying the sunlight,” he offered pleasantly, eyes still closed and face still towards the sun. The smile was very apparent in his voice, though. “Yourself?”
A hand pushed at the base of his head, forcing it over. “Stop that. You are not human.”
He let his head move with the force, unperturbed by it. He simply kept his head aloft, letting it roll completely over before pulling it back to center over his neck, the face pointed at the sun once more. He had yet to open his eyes. “Never said I was,” he returned cordially. He did open one eye at the other, letting his cheekiness be very apparent. “You and the others keep insisting as if I’ve fully revoked what I am and have become one of them.”
“Your behaviors say you have.”
He huffed, though it was a mimic of the sound and motion since he had no lungs to compress and no nose to make the noise with. He closed his eye and returned to feeling the sun on his face. “My behaviors are nothing more than idle things you all should try at some point. Humans have the most interesting behaviors.”
“And you’ve partaken in every single one.”
It was an accusation dripping with derision. He laughed. “Oh, not at all,” he offered, finally turning his face towards the other and opening his eyes. A part of him was disappointed he had no mouth for he was certain he would be grinning at the other. It certainly felt like how she described it would feel to want to grin, to show just how vindictive one can be by baring teeth. “I lack a number of the organs to try many of their behaviors.” He straightened himself out, properly facing the other. “But that doesn’t mean I haven’t tried what I can.” His gaze drifted over what counted as the other’s shoulder. Unlike him, many had refused to take on anything that could be counted as humanoid. He was unsurprised to see the movement that had drawn his attention was someone of importance. “Are you here for a reason, Commander Durnranth?” he asked, focusing back on the other. “Or are you here to simply kill time by harassing me.”
“Are you harassing Ambassador Rejak again, Commander Durnranth?” The voice was light, airy. She had said that it reminded her of a young girl which she had then explained made the owner of the voice all that more of a threat to humankind; no grown male adult ever wanted to be commanded by a child. Unfortunately for the human race, his kind did not do gender and age was a novelty very few held any value to, let alone to such standards as to consider it any form of ranking. Highest Jur was Highest for a reason, their vocal choice and apparent ‘age’ never questioned. Each of his kind held their place for a reason and while that place may change over time, he was lucky enough to be in Highest Jur’s favor even after everything he had done. “You know what happens when you pick on my favored, Commander Durnranth.”
Commander Durnranth gave the equivalent of a bow. He noted offhandedly for not the first time and certainly not the last that since he started paying attention to human behaviors and mannerisms, comparing the two had become habitual. To watch Durnranth’s form bend in a fashion he was familiar with only to note how differently it was for humans for the same term was both amusing and tiring. He doubted that he would ever be able to stop doing such a thing.
“Rejak.” Highest Jur’s voice had settled into an alto, almost tenor range and he realized that it was just him and Highest Jur. Commander Durnranth and Highest Jur’s escort had vacated the area. He was fairly certain this was not the first attempt at getting his attention. “Is everything alright.”
“Of course, Highest Jur,” he assured them, amusement and gratitude coloring his tone. “Just lost in thought as of late.”
“Missing the Little Miss.”
He chuckled. He had forgotten that Highest Jur had latched onto that nickname after Obith had called her that once. She had put a stop to it immediately but it seemed she never broke Highest Jur of it. “Yes. Missing Bethany.”
Highest Jur simply looked at him for a moment before they turned their body, gesturing with what equated as a hand for them. “Accompany me, Rejak.”
He fell into step beside Highest Jur without a thought, his feet barely leaving an impression in the grass. Highest Jur - like most of their kind - simply floated over the grass. Unlike him, Highest Jur was holding the material that created their form in a shape that was most definitely not humanoid but was very recognizable for any of his kind. The shape had no “legs” but there was a very apparent “head”. After that, the only other distinguishable thing humans seemed to care about were the “hands” and even then the appendages couldn’t truly be called “hands”. Still, she had grown accustom to his kind’s ability to mold their forms and it seemed the rest of her kind was adapting to that notion as well, though a lot of them far slower than she had.
They traveled the grounds in silence for some time but he didn’t mind. It allowed his gaze - and his thoughts - to wander the fields and structures. This particular area didn’t house very many humans but the fields were tended to by human hands and with the day still young and cool, the field was alive with movement.
Content and joy filled him as he watched a spattering of children run around playing some game. There were a few older children working too but most of the workers were adults. He remembered the short time where the humans had worked far harder to tend to their tasks than they did now. To the humans, it had been a good two or three generations worth of time but it had been enough for the humans to accept the knowledge that he and his kind were not there to rule them to breaking point. He had worked very hard to make sure that hadn’t happened.
And so had Beth.
He caught broken pieces of their language as he and Highest Jur passed. The adults were working, sure, but they talked and laughed and took their time. His favorite time was when the whole field would erupt into some song. He could hear the faint start of one but it didn’t sound like any that had covered the fields before.
“They are interesting beings.” He looked to Highest Jur, curious. Highest Jur, for their part, was looking at a trio of humans not far off. The trio were working in the ditch; from what he could tell, they were digging but for what task, he didn’t know. “Resilient. Forgiving. Patient.”
“Very much as we are,” he offered, though he wasn’t sure if that had been Highest Jur’s intent.
Highest Jur’s eyes fell upon him and he could make out the amusement and pride in the way their eyes were shaped. “Which is why I have been supporting you in your endeavor.” Highest Jur started along some path he couldn’t see and he realized that he had stopped at some point and Highest Jur had stopped with him. He fell back into step beside them. “I am glad it has not been wasted, even at the cries of outrage for the others.”
The path Highest Jur walked had them passing the trio in the ditch. Despite the generations that have passed, there was still some unease in the humans around those that did not take a humanoid shape. He heard one of the humans mutter something, potentially a slur that still clung to the fear that persisted. But when the humans slipped sideways in the ditch when the bank gave out under their foot, the human did not flinch when his hands wrapped around them, supporting them, the human did not flinch from his touch and even sent him a gracious smile, as did the other two. It wasn’t till the human was standing on their own two feet again being checked over and he had brought his hands back to himself that he realized why. The humans were working to clear some debris from the ditch and had he not interfered, the human would have been impaled by a sharp piece of debris. It wouldn’t have been deadly but it would have been a long recovery.
Maybe that lingering fear had less of a hold than he thought.
“I am concerned that you are getting too attached, Rejak.” He focused back on Highest Jur. The encounter hadn’t slowed him down and Highest Jur hadn’t changed their pace. “Or, more accurately: there are many that think the human influence is too great on you, that you have been and will continue to be corrupted by them till it consumes all of our race.”
He blinked at them, mildly surprised and put off by Highest Jur’s bluntness about the matter. “They sound as the humans had at the beginning of all this,” he pointed out, keeping his tone neutral as he pointed out his perspective. “Are you asking me to withdraw? The humans are not quite self sufficient yet to maintain this planet.”
Highest Jur laughed, their head thrown back in a distinctly human manner. “Oh, I am very much aware, Rejak, and I care not that there are those that have picked up the more negative human traits and characteristics.” Had Highest Jur teeth to bare, he was certain they would have been giving him a toothy grin. “This makes it easier for us to weed out those that would corrupt.”
“We are not as easily corrected as the humans,” he cautioned. “We live too long and our way of life does not hold value to time like the human lifespan and way of life does.”
“True. But it is a place to start.”
A gaggle of children raced by, all laughing and squealing and all just past the age of learning to run. They were being chased by a few older children and two young adults. All seemed to be having a good time.
“They are certainly a lively bunch,” Highest Jur commented, their amusement very clear in their words.
“Bethany would say it had something to do with the season shift, as if the warmer weather encouraged brighter moods.” For a moment, he couldn’t quite put together the tidbit she had given him. “She had called it something but I can’t seem to remember what it was.”
“Springtime joy.” He looked to Highest Jur but they were not looking at him. Instead, Highest Jur’s gaze was on a bird circling high above their heads. “If I remember correctly, Little Miss would use that term with derision and yet they partook in the joy themself.”
A bittersweet amusement filled his center. It felt like something was compressing the chest of his form from the inside. “She did not care for the behaviors of the other humans but her favorite season had been spring.”
A breeze curled around them and he closed his eyes to relish in its touch.
“It is a pity they live such short lives. Little Miss would have been so proud of how far the human race has come.”
That compressing feeling in his chest tightened and a set of hands curled against his chest without prompting. “Agreed,” he offered meekly.
Silence settled between them. After some time, he managed to open his eyes and bring his gaze to the world around him once more. Highest Jur didn’t speak but he knew that they had time to just be with him, to allow him the moment to miss her, to grieve her.
He wondered if the pain would ever lessen.
With how brightly humans burned, he doubted the mark she left would ever fade.
Find a tale or three or five to read but be warned. It is never easy to see where the plot may be going As the Story Crumbles
Posting Permissions
Reply With Quote
Bookmarks