Lost

Drowning in a sea I used to call my home

Slipping on the path that once was sure-footing

Unsure if this world has changed- or just what I see

Searching, running, hidding, bound yet free

Lost in the forest where I know every tree

I want to write mayra so bad. A broken mayra that looks at the pieces of her life and turns around and walks away. Mayra that doesn't let fixed be a goal. Mayra with a bite. (Mayra in a story where playing nice doesn't come into it. Mayra who might be good but as sure as hell isn't noble. Mayra who looks death in the face and spits at it through her tears.) Mayra who is shit at being diplomatic, at putting her pride aside for anyone. Mayra who sees every broken person as a kindred spirit, but not a project.

Elaine hadn’t known what to expect when the letter came from Zene that she was heading north. It had been a shock, after all the letters of her adventures, after all the hopes Zene had put down on paper for when the crusades were over and Elaine could come back home. For Zene to leave her brother, her church, to join Elaine on the front lines, Elaine knew something must have happened to her.

Even still, that knowledge that something had to have changed for Zene hadn’t prepared her for the sight of her when she came to Kenebras. For the most part, she looked the same. Five years older, a bit less of a smile, but those wouldn’t have made much of a difference on that face Elaine knew so well. No, the biggest change she saw in Zene was how hesitant she looked, as if even being here was something she hadn’t committed to, not to mention the fact the horse by her side wasn’t the same as the one she had bonded with before Elaine had left.

“Zene! What-” Elaine bit back the question as she rushed to her old lover’s side. “Are you alright?”

Zene answered with a nod and half a smile, idly rubbing the palm of her gloved hand. “I’m- I’m alright, Elaine. Gods above is it good to see you.” 

“You too.” Elaine reached up, pulling Zene’s head down until they were forehead to forehead, “However it came about, I’m glad to see you.”

They stood like that for a long moment, until their hands had intertwined and Elaine slowly realized something. The hand Zene had covered was the one where she had gotten her holy symbol tattooed back when she first took her oaths to be a paladin. And this was the first time Elaine could remember seeing it covered when Zene wasn’t decked out for battle.

@t3hraerae @bewilderedexaminer @symphonicslugs

Eolus was a machine. Made to serve as a companion and nothing more.

After all, machines didn’t have a soul. Machines followed their programming until they wore themselves to bits. They couldn’t feel themselves fall apart or slowly lose power.

Zayid was a man with a birthright he didn’t want. An inherent power that he had been used to take advantage of, which had been forced to grow until it was useful enough for those that had controlled him. This magic at his fingers terrified him, but he couldn’t turn it off. Those that had used him had changed him so much he hardly recognized himself in what he could do with hardly a thought.

They were drawn together though the fates of other people. A sister with a kinship to a magic shop that she didn’t quite understand, and a mechanist with a wish that had a heavy cost. Zayid and Eolus never chose to take themselves to that shop. He was tagging along, following the sister that still believed in him after everything he had been forced to do. And Eolus was bartered like they were nothing more than a well-crafted sword.

When Zayid found the quiet corner with this small figure gathering dust, he hadn’t known the weight of what he was about to do. He reached forward, dusting off their face with the gentle brush of his fingers over cold metal skin.

When his fingers found the small winding key lodged in its place at the base of their skull he only paused for a moment before he turned it. 

Click. Click. Click. Whirrrrrrrrrrr.

For the first time since they had been left in the shop, Eolus opened their eyes, and they saw Zayid staring at them.

@t3hraerae @bewilderedexaminer

Nanowrimo ‘15 day 9

“What’s become of my mother?” Arian asked Chrysaor late one evening. The question had been on her mind for a long time, but she hadn’t been sure how to bring up the subject. She herself had hardly known Amorciel, her mother had spent so much time elsewhere, out of sight, behind closed doors. And it had never been questioned. A young woman needed to have a closer bond with the fathers who would pick her husbands and with the few brothers chosen to stay in the household after the wedding. Women were not encouraged to be friends. Their husbands and brothers were supposed to be all the company they might need.

Nanowrimo ‘15 day 8

“Arian?”

Arian slowly came to a stop, letting her sword finish its rotation before she turned to face the figure watching her practice. “Yes?” She asked as she went to return the blade to its stand.

“You plan on sending us brothers home early.” Chiron frowned as he spoke, “You haven’t said it, but the preparations being made, the meetings with Chrysaor, none of those have us as well. We’re still treated very much as guests, not even allowed to help with the tasks we did at home.

“You’re keeping us at a distance and you wouldn’t if you intended us to be the party that brings you home.”

“And if I told you that was true?”

“I’d ask why you don’t give us a choice in it.”

Arian paused, her fingers trailing across the flat of her blade. “What choice is it you want to make, Chiron?”

“I want to choose who I serve. I was supposed to be sworn to the city next year. My life in the hands of the counsel, swearing loyalty to them before any other. I know I have never been considered as a husband, and I never wanted to be, but if given the choice I would rather serve in my sister’s household than as a pawn to those who have no reason to care for me.”

That speech brought a soft laugh to Arian’s lips. “Do you know what you’re saying?”

“I-” It was Chiron’s turn to pause, taking the steps to reach Arian’s side before he continued. “I remember facing the council after Mori, I remember them coolly discussing the exchange of my service for his, when they wrote him off for dead. And I remember the girl who bullied one of her fathers into convincing them to spend at least a month looking for him, hoping her brother had made it out alive. My life is worthless to them. You, on the other hand, show how much it matters in not asking for it. Because you could, of all of us here. All of us have something at stake if you are lost.”

“But do you understand what’s at stake now that I let myself be found? You wish to chose me, brother, and I will let you choose me, but I cannot accept it in anything other than blood.” She turned to him, palms facing upward, showing the thin scars she had already collected. “This choice cannot be undone.”

Chiron met her eyes, holding out his palm. “I was raised to be a vessel, it would be an honor to be yours.”

nanowrimo ‘15 day 6

“These people,” Chrysaor glanced out at the crowd of people in the ballroom as he spoke, “They look up to you.”

‘15 nanowrimo day 7

“You really are leaving.”

‘15 nanowrimo day 5

Arian was nervous. Two months of planning had come to an end. Months of worrying about this moment were finally at an end, and, in a few moments, she would be welcoming one of her fathers, and several brothers, into her home. It was terrifying to think of what she planned to do, standing up to these men who had been telling her what she was and wasn’t allowed to do, to learn, since before she could fly.

‘15 nanowrimo day 4.2

Arian took a deep breath, putting down the pen she held in shaking fingers. She wanted something to do after a stressful day, a stressful month, of planning a ball, making arrangements for the dozen or so ahre’el she was expecting with her father, worrying about her missing son, and dealing with the realization Ethesa hadn’t been nearly as honest with her as she thought she had. What she wanted was something to get her mind off everything that had happened, something to do that wasn’t related to any of that.

On top of all that, she knew there was a physical part of her drained from the oaths taken in the afternoon. It made her fingers ache, her hands tremble, and her palms itch. It made her pen hard to hold and her paperwork hard to read.

With a frustrated sigh, she stood, pushing herself up from her desk without a second thought, gasping at the pain that simple motion sent through her palms. Her whole body shuddered through it, from arms bracing herself upright to shaking legs to quivering wings. She took breath after shuddering breath until the tears stinging her eyes were gone, until she could stand upright without the help of the sturdy desk in front of her. Another deep breath was a step away from her desk and her current frustration. By the time she reached the door, her legs weren’t trembling beneath her weight. By the time she made it down the hall to the armory, her hands were steady by her side.

And when she picked up her prized blade, longer that she was tall, her whole body relaxed, as though she had been doused in a cooling tonic. As she began to practice her swings in slow, sweeping motions, each measured stoke centered her that little bit more, until her eyes fell closed and the sword moved almost of its own volition through the moves she had long since memorized.

Only once she had found her rhythm did she let the tears fall, angry sobs that led to accentuated swings, the force of her blade as harsh as the grief for things she had only discovered she could never have again.

This was the one freedom she could allow herself, in only a few private moments, to break and rebuild herself, to find peace through her blade and the heat of its strokes inches away from her skin. It had been years since her every action faced scrutiny, every moment outside her home watched for the signs she was an unfit mother, but she remembered it and the painful fight for the right to know her child. Soon, she would live through the same, only worse. Going to Cloudshrine meant even her own home would not be safe. There, her movements would be watched more carefully than ever, she knew enough about the politics of her fathers to know that would be the case.

Her eyes snapped open, her sword stilling as she took a deep breath, tears still streaming down her face. She could barely lift the sword now, her aching palms hardly able to grip the hilt between them. She didn’t know how long it had taken to find her calm, but the sky had turned from light to dark, her legs trembling from natural exhaustion. By the time her blade was back in its place on its stand, the tears had stopped. By the time she made the trek to her bedroom she was ready to collapse into sleep.

And by the time she woke the next morning, she was ready to face the world again.

'15 nanowrimo day 4

“You knew.” Arian glared at Ethesa, accusation in her eyes. “I know you had to know. There’s no way my sibling could have known I was going back unless you told them.” Ethesa reached for Arian, giving a soft sigh when the other woman backed away. “Yes, I knew. And before you ask, this wasn’t the first contact we’ve had.” “How long?” “Since we left Roe. I only suspected, when we first met, but there were too many similarities to ignore. When I confronted them-” “Twenty years? You’ve known exactly where my twin was, and you never said one word to me?” “You were pregnant, being a hero, making a life for yourself here. Was I supposed to distract you from your goals for a twin that didn’t want to be found?” “Yes!” Arian yelled the word, tears in her eyes. “I trusted you. With everything. And you were supposed to be loyal to me.” “I am loyal to you.” “You have a funny way of showing it. Planning a revolution with me as the head, bringing them here for no other reason than to pass on their inheritance. What other plans did you tell them? They expect me to take revenge.” “Arian, anything I have done I have done for you." Arian shook her head, turning away from Ethesa. "If you had done it for me, you wouldn’t have done it behind my back.” Ethesa sighed again, her voice soft when she continued. “I hide it for your own good. What you don’t know can’t be forced out of you.” “That isn’t the point. It wasn’t about protecting me, or my interests, hiding them from me. I could have had contact with them, more than just a single meeting before I am unable to say their name ever again. All these plans you have for me, it doesn’t seem to be in my interest at all. It’s all me becoming the glorious master you wanted. “And that, Ethesa, that is not in my best interest. That is in your best interest. You need to stop all this scheming if you want to come with me. I will leave you behind if I can’t trust you to be my hands and my feet without following your own instructions. Do you understand me?” Arian’s voice trembled as she spoke, her eyes pressed tightly shut, even though she knew Ethesa couldn’t see the tears on her face. “I understand.” Ethesa’s voice was soft as she spoke. The same sort of soft it went when Arian pressed her against the sheets, when Arian did something unexpected and wonderful. “What do you mean by that?” “I mean you have surprised me again, and I wouldn’t give up my place at your side for the world itself.” “I’ve made you proud.” “No. Proud would have been me setting you on a throne of my own making. This is… this is much better than that.” Arian let out a slight huff of laughter. “Are you saying you didn’t hope for me to take control of your plans, control of you?” “Of course not,” Arian could hear the grin in her voice. “But hopes and expectations are two different things.” Arian gave a slow nod, wiping her cheeks before she turned back around to face the woman who had been at her side nearly as long as she had been in the earth-bound cities. “I want you to swear it to me, no more secrets when it comes to my well-being.” She held a slim letter opener in her left hand, offering it handle first to her companion. “Concerns about my family come to me. Advice on how to organize my assets, people or otherwise, come to me. And you never go behind my back to make plans, even for my own good, again. Will you swear it?” Ethesa nodded, though she made no move to take the knife, instead offering her own palm to Arian. “I will swear it.” With an answering nod, Arian took the blade with her other hand, slicing across their palms without so much as a flinch.

‘15 nanowrimo day 3

“Arian? There’s… Someone to see you.” Ethesa announced, knocking lightly on the open door.

Arian glanced up from her papers, confusion clear on her face. “Someone-?” Her father’s party wasn’t due to arrive for another month, and she had just met with Seren and Sniper for lunch.

From behind Ethesa stepped a small, winged figure, someone Arian recognized, though she couldn’t place it.

“Please, come in.”

“Thank you.” Their voice was soft, almost as soft as their step when they entered the room, not even glancing back as Ethesa closed the door behind them. “You might not remember, but you bought me my freedom, at the same time Ethesa came into your employ.”

Arian’s eyes widened as she stood, walking around the desk to get a better look at the golden haired ahre’el in front of her. “You’re- I remember, but you look more familiar than from then. Why-?”

“Aur. I am Aur.”

Arian’s eyes widened as she stepped back, gasping in shock. “No. Aur was- she was-”

“I changed a lot more than you did, those first years away from home. But it is me, your twin.”

“You didn’t even hint at it.”

Aur shrugged, “You were so… Vibrant. You always have been. And I was much happier to blend into the shadows of bureaucracy and paperwork. Besides, I knew the family was going to find one of us eventually. I didn’t want it to be me.”

Arian frowned, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means,” Aur looked away, glancing around the small office instead of meeting Arian’s eye. “It means I am glad you’re going back, and I have something to give you.”

“What is it?”

Aur held out their hand, a slim blade resting on their palm. “Take this knife and cut my palm. I have an inheritance to give you. Please, give me my freedom.”

“What does a blood oath have to do with our inheritance?” Arian asked, confusion in her voice.

“Papers can be burned, written spells taken apart. But nothing can break a blood sworn oath.”

Arian met Aur’s eyes, searching their face for answers and giving a slow nod when she found them. “This isn’t about the inheritance. This is about you not being found.”

Aur shrugged. “That too. Please, sister. You gave me my freedom once, grant it again.”

“I never could tell you no.” Arian slowly reached for the knife, taking a deep breath before she ran it over the outstretched palm. Barely had the blood began to well up in the shallow cut that she sliced her own palm, wincing at the sharp pain.

“I, Amortentia Shimmerdawn forfeit my inheritance, binding it all to my sister, Amor Shimmerdawn, with the blood from my veins, and the words given freely from my lips.”

“I, Amor Shimmerdawn, will never speak of my twin again. Her location and names will be forbidden from my lips. I swear it with the blood from my veins, and the words given freely from my lips.”

With the words spoken, the siblings clasped palms, almost identical looks of pain on their faces as the magic burned through their veins, a tangible force that sealed the cuts on their palms by the time it was done. Slowly, carefully, they let go, revealing near identical scars crossing their palms.

“Thank you.” Aur spoke softly, reaching out for Arian’s hand, bringing it to their lips and pressing a soft kiss against the scarred palm.

“I- you’re welcome.” Arian replied, biting her lip as she watched this stranger she used to know turn away to leave.

“And, Arian?” Aur turned as they reached the door, “Make them pay for what they did to us. Please.”

“I’ll try.”