Finger skating on the thin slice of life that drifted between the reality of what was and what he wanted to be real, only half a man shifting into gargoyle as he cast both halves of his broken heart in stone. Relief, somewhere he held the belief that maybe Elyna could give it to him. That somewhere in the awesome and amazing that she had become he could remember how his soul had once drifted on the wind like an ember and how his compassion had lit the fires of who he was. And now, wasted away in his guilt he wondered if he even deserved a life simple life. Lead to believe that he could never fall in love, that no one would ever be willing to forge the sun for him in their workshop.
Knock.
Vakhanor's hand grazed against the wood door, waiting for a reply in hope that the heart that did have a sun could share a bit of its light. A rope lit at both ends it would only be so long until he finally burnt out into ash, if by some miracle the solace of company could douse that pain then so be it. The smith on most occasions would have chose not depend on anyone, but in the times where guilt trickled like the memory of the urine of a frightened child he could do nothing but see his victims face. Mercy, he remembered her call. He should have been the one asking for it.
Knock.
Patience wore him thin and he turned to look out over the horizon toward the waves. Elyna's house was the picture of serenity, everything anybody could have wanted in her life. He hoped to see her smile. All those trials ago on that same ocean he had told her to find happiness, he had been right. The woman had her whole life ahead of her and he? He was growing to be an old man. He'd achieved nothing in life other than trying to mend a broken family that was now gone, so instead he tried to rid of the last thing he had left. The ability to give a damn and it kept coming back to him.
Death was too weak of a sentence for what he had committed in the past season of his life, by the hand of blue cloaks would have been enough. An honourable death where nobody would remember him or care to even cry for his passing, just a lonely blacksmith that nobody knew well. That would have been better than to be bound by pain and torment to repent in an endless cycle of anger and guilt.
Anguish was an old familiar friend, and he welcomed her home. Such a powerful nectar that Elyna could drown within it. Sleep became a sweet oblivion for a woman made of straw. Slow, aching movements had seen the chores completed, the horses fed and watered, exercised. The home was tidied. Food was cooked and left to cool untouched. The Hawk’s bandage changed and she had returned to their bed and slept some more. Tears stained the pillows and her cheeks. She would never be sure of when she’d finally crumpled, but she was grateful it had been after Malcolm’s departure.
Sorrow struck deep and sudden and she was ashamed to crawl back into the dark place that had held her for so long. But it was safe there. With the blankets pulled over her head, curled up on her side, she was safe. The pain didn’t ease, but it didn’t worsen either. Disorientated, the knocks on the door were a rude awakening. Startled, blinking in the dim room Elyna couldn’t make sense of the time. Was it day or night? Had she dreamt her time in the sunshine with the horses, or had that been the day before? She frowned in the darkness before the next knock fell.
The Skyrider scrambled to her feet and pulled on her shirt. The air was still hot, humid and close. Cheeks flushed and eyes bright from slumber, ringed with red she stumbled through the house. She should have lit a candle, or she should have stoked the fire. Shame snapped at her heels again, two trials in and what had she made of herself? This was not the woman her husband loved. She owed him better than this, she owed their child better than this.
Fingers closed around the hilt of her long-sword and she pulled the door open. Bandits, thieves? Benjamin? Silhouetted by the fading sun she was stunned to see Vakhanor, bowed with his own demons. His eyes seemed to be burning. He was drowning and she needed him to swim. If Vakhanor was drowning too, then who could save her?
Not twenty days married and she would do anything to save herself from the relentless twist of misery. Ever impulsive, the sword point lowered safely to the ground and she stepped forward, wrapped an arm around the man’s neck and pulled him down to meet her embrace. Perhaps it had been inevitable. Maybe it was just the undertow of the current. The weight wrapped around both their ankles. She pressed a kiss to his mouth.
Coaxed by his temptress Vakhanor sunk into mindless infatuation and ever so briefly allowed impulse to guide him toward his desire. Then he remembered. Remembered the harsh reality known to him that this was wrong, to be intimate with Elyna was to condemn them both into a whirlpool of pain where he would sink further into darkness. Vakhanor pulled away from Elyna "No," he said, filled with a mixture of sadness and disappointment as he broke free from her hold, "you can't do that any more Elyna, you're married." Shame overcame him and with it his desire to speak with the Skyrider had vanished. As much as he distrusted Malcolm for who he was Vakhanor meant the man no ill will.
"You're cruel," he muttered softly to her, then slowly began tracing his was back to the edge of the hill where he slumped down onto the earth in defeat. He wondered to himself how naive he'd been to think he could have a simple bond with a woman, a woman that he was beginning to think of as a sister. Someone who was there for him in a time of need, when in reality she was none of that. Elyna was a disowned noble with the ex-baron of Krome as a husband, a man whose devotion to his cause had been absolute to the point he'd murder his wife for her. If Faldrun was watching over him now why did he not just burn the smith and get over it? or maybe this was what to burn in hell meant.
Fingers like silk against bone Elyna began to haunt his thoughts with ideas he never wanted to have with a married woman. Not after what Rhea had done to him. Cheated out of his own heart, he remembered how it was to loose the woman you loved to another, how crushed he had felt that day the other man's blade had beaten him into the dirt. Vakhanor had hoped Elyna a better woman and now she was doing the same thing as Rhea had, only worse. Rhea hadn't been married to Vakhanor, she held no vows, no promises, there was no honour to tarnish other than Vakhanor's pride.
Opening each palm slowly he tried to be calm, drawing in every breath with halted unease and slowly releasing it onto the wind that blew against his cheeks. Trapped in a trance, the man watched the world go by underneath the orange painted sky.
Last edited by Vakhanor on Wed Jun 29, 2016 8:02 pm, edited 1 time in total. word count: 422
Bowed to the kiss, for the briefest moment Elyna was grateful for any other sense of feeling to wash over her. Anything other than crushing numbness. But the moment broke and she dropped back to her heels, retreating in a mirror of Vakh’s own motions, “shit,” she pressed a shivering fingers to her lips and turned away from him.
"You're cruel,"he said.
“Fuck – shit!” She put the sword against the wall before she could drop it on her own foot. The boot steps across hard earth told her enough. He was right, she was cruel. Selfish and single minded in her impulsive reactions. More than anything in the world, she wanted Malcolm back. The Skyrider wanted to share all the words she’d curbed on her tongue and beg him to stay. A tiny part of rational thought remained. The soft voice speaking and reminding her of the reasons she hadn’t. Because what if he had listened, what if he had stayed? He couldn’t turn his back on his task and instead he’d turned his back on her. But he hadn’t, he’d had no choice. However, no matter how many times she repeated the sensible thoughts in her mind, her heart was burning a hole in her chest.
The Skyrider spun on bare toes like a dancer and followed the path the Smith had carved over whispering grass. He’d dropped to sit beneath the tree she used for target practise and she approached, arms wrapped around her chest. Trousers cut below the knee and wet with dew.
“I’m sorry,” Elyna didn’t wait for him to move, or to acknowledge her. She sank down, sitting with her back to the tree and watched the final clouds skidding across the sky. The wind was getting up. Maybe it would take all the heat from the day with it.
“You look like shit, and I’m sorry…its just the only way I know to…save someone from drowning…and you’re drowning Vakh.”
Last edited by Elyna on Thu Jun 30, 2016 7:35 am, edited 1 time in total. word count: 342
Frustration plunged into him like a dagger into an already open wound "Not like that Elyna," he whispered, the single drop of a tear falling from his eyes as he took her hand "Not like that." Reminded he was never to be anything but alone he could feel himself drifting away. He couldn't look at her, crying was a weakness known to many men than he could not indulge in. A reputation of steel, strength and fire left no room for the smith that swallowed his pillow in water or kissed another mans wife. What was to become of him? The words played at his mind like a broken record stuck on repeat.
His gaze shifted to her hand and he stared at it for a moment, there was no love in her actions, no fulfilment to be taken on the lips of another. Had they not shared a boat ride together, the death of his little brother and various other encounters then maybe he would have been none the wiser. Thirty four arcs had taught him enough about women to know when they wanted you or not, it had been to his relief that Elyna had not been one of those and he hoped she still wasn't.
"You've got to be better than that Elyna. I dunno what you mean by drowning, but love isn't a pick up line. Get your shit together," Vakhanor fumed as his buried sadness slowly turned into rage "you were supposed to be like family to me." It was all he wanted, for someone to give a shit when the rest of the world didn't. Someone he didn't have to prove anything to, but apparently he did. With each passing moment her presence made him anxious. Removing his hand from hers he shifted his body away from her to give himself some space, what else was there to say?
The Skyrider, confused, curled her fingers around his and held them gently until he pulled away. Knees drawn up to her chest, arms loosely wrapped around them as she watched the horses in the paddock, dozing. They were so lazy. It was hard to listen to Vakhanor and avoid reflecting on her actions. Her heart beat hard and slow in her chest, lungs burnt with despair. Two trials into his absence and she’d betrayed the man she loved more than anything in the world. What did that make her? Less than worthy of his affection and his name. Elyna closed her eyes and tilted her head back against the bark. It scratched the back of her neck, but she blocked the sensation and instead listened to the sound of distant gulls and the kiss of waves on the shore. Where would he be now?
Vakhanor was right, she had to be better. But no matter how many people told her, or how much she knew it to be the truth, it didn’t make it easy. Easier was the slide into her old life, and the pit had already wrapped hands around her ankles. Maybe she’d never been free of them anyway. The Skyrider was climbing a mountain made of scree that threatened to slip out beneath her feet. Every little slip, made the journey longer and more difficult. Every slide down threatened to be the one that would send her tumbling, without mercy and back into black waters. Mal had been the one, the only one atop the slope and helping her climb. The loss of his steadying presence was a shock. Only her own determination would keep her scaling, and she was already tired.
“You look like you’re drowning in despair,” Elyna explained, “or guilt or shame…” they were her own demons but she didn’t know what demon had dug claws into her friend.
“Why are you here Vakhanor? Why did you come to me?” She pushed fingers through her hair, lifting it back from her face.
"To see the same light on you face as I saw on your wedding night," the words rolled from the smith's tongue as if the sun had never shone for him. There was no light here. Neither solace nor empathy would do him any good now, desperation was leading him into madness and to rely on a friend was cruelty of its own. How could he expect so much of her?
Vakhanor shovelled his emotions back into the earth of his chest as he forced a smile onto his lips that even then was betrayed by his eyes, the windows to his soul "If am to be drowned then Immortals have mercy on my soul, I hate water." His mind shifted back to when they had been on the boat together sat beneath a tide of spattering water that had been like ice against his skin, he laughed. Life had been simpler back then.
Pushing up against the bark Vakhanor rose to his feet, his gaze lowering down onto her oaken hued eyes as his hand slowly curled down toward her and offered to help her up. In his world actions spoke louder than words and he was too tired of the world's bullshit to care about fighting Elyna right now. "Come on. Let's stop drowning and go to do something stupid, how fond are you of old stories?" the smile on his face shifted into a grin "I heard that if you go to the heart of the crypts at night there is a crystal cave where if you shine a light in the right direction and speak to them, they awaken sing ancient songs to guide you on a strange journey, but nobody ever goes down there in fear of inciting Famula's wrath."
Elyna flinched at the reminder of her own betrayal. The world changed and it had moved on in the twelve trials that had passed. Whatever her thoughts on the Immortals and their mercy, she held them too herself. In her limited experience, she wasn’t sure if they cared to grant mercy but they certainly had plans and designs that needed to be followed; which was why she was now alone. Already regretting her decision to follow Malcolm across the ocean. Not only did she miss the Mortalborn, but her whole life she’d longed to explore the world. She would quietly continue to hope, that this wouldn’t be her last opportunity.
Her curled a cool hand around warm fingers and was pulled to her feet with a faint smile, “I won’t let you drown Vakh, I’ll do my best to stop that happening,” she rested her free hand on his arm before dropping both hands back to her sides.
“I just need my shoes,” she explained and retreated back down the hill through the stretching shadows. Her boots were easy to find, sword strapped around her waist and jerkin pulled on to stave of the cold. She was hit with Malcolms scent and paused for a moment to savour it. Had he hung the coat on the back of the door for her? For the splitting of a trill, he could have been in the room with her and she closed her eyes to hold onto the sensation.
Elyna exited the house and locked the door behind her, she pulled her long hair down to the side, plaiting it as she followed Vakh’s longer strides, “I’ve not heard that story…I love stories. Did you hear how the Rivers Avari and Zor were given their names?”
She had to run every few steps to catch up with him. The woman did not want to anger an Immortal. Maybe Vakhanor thought it was unlikely they would run into such a being, and before Ashan, the Immortals to Elyna were distant myths. But her world had been flipped irrevocably and she considered how far they’d go on their reckless quest.
Shadows crept around the corners of backstreet alleys fought off by the soft light of street lamps. The preoccupied faces of tired and dangerous souls lurked down every pavement and the wind swept through the city in a silent song of sorrow. Voiceless in the journey through Andaris Vakhanor reflected upon the earlier events, damning himself for allowing it to happen. "I don't know it," he had told her, looking back into her eyes as if he thought nothing of what had happened. It was all a lie.
Fog clung to their heels as they travelled across the damp grass of the cemetery in the direct of a sealed tomb. Guiding Elyna through the terrain they traced along the outside until they reached a hole in the ground hidden beneath a layer of ivy. "Careful, we can only fit one at a time. I'll go first and make sure there's nothing sleeping down there." A place of the dead, graveyards had become a second home to Vakhanor. Not unknown to him he would sit waiting in the darkness for the souls of his loved ones to speak to him, hoping they would grant him some condolence. He soon learned that there was none to be given, not even by the living. Vakhanor's feelings were lost, hidden behind his lips too far pierced in the depths of fear to be released from his lips without leaving a gaping wound. In his youth the smith had explored the graveyards in order to get away from the world. They were quiet and the truth was that he didn't believe in ghost stories.
Not waiting for an answer the smith repeated the action he'd done almost a thousand times now and descended through the dirt tunnel into a small rocky cave on the side of a spiral staircase. Some animal of some kind had dug its way down and left a gap a long time ago. Whatever it was that had dug this hole Vakhanor had never seen, Rhea had once said she could hear the low sound of something shifting against the rocks, but by the time she'd pointed it out the sound had gone. Only a few arcs ago he used to sneak out here to explore, retreat and scare the poor souls who dared to wander the graveyards at night. There had once even been a ghost story about him and his lover, at least until the day she had disowned him for another man.
"Clear!" he called to Elyna in a loud whisper, they weren't supposed to be there.
It didn’t seem like he wanted to know the story either, and so Elyna kept the tale to herself. Heart racing as she cursed her own foolishness, she followed the Smith. The Skyrider seemed content to remain quiet and not get herself into any more trouble. Shadows of the night followed them and they knew all of her secrets. Puffy eyes had lost their redness and she forged on ahead, eager to forget the past two trials and look ahead. Two days done…a hundred, two hundred to go? Who knew?
It was strange to be in the cemetery so late, but Elyna believed that she had far more to fear from the living then the dead. She found the space between the graves to tranquil and peaceful. This was, after all where she’d met lord Quincy Andaris. The dead hadn’t been a threat then either, but a young rogue had made a valiant attempt to wave a battered sword at the pair of them. There was an unspeakable tension between the pair of them as they picked a careful path between darkness. The woman retreated inward and tried to out the circling thoughts and feelings of guilt. She loved Malcolm so much that it hurt, she missed him so much that she couldn’t breathe, and so why…? Why had she taken the first chance to betray him? What was wrong with her, that in the darkest time, she couldn’t help but reach out for the nearest comfort? It hadn’t always been this way, she was sure of it. The stronger the thread between her and her lover, the more she tried to destroy it? Was that what she wanted?
She crouched down as Vakh slipped beneath the surface of the earth and listened to the sound of him moving through the ground. Finally, frowning she nodded at his call. Safe, he’d said. Elyna bit on her bottom lip and scanned the empty graveyard again. Well…what could possibly go wrong? She felt that she owed the Smith this foray into madness, after all she’d tried to pull him into her own darkness.
The skyrider slid after him, edging forward and scraping elbows on the entrance. This was madness, and reckless and…she had no business being here. But it felt like a dream, or a nightmare. She felt detached from herself as she straightened up on the other side. As though someone else was living her life.
