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thrihyrneStory continues from the second post, here. Also posted on the Forever pink boards for WsIP. Feedback and commentary welcome! This story is coming to me so fast and furious I may actually be able to post once a week, but no promises. It's quite a fully-formed world as I get it, though.
Title: Maelstrom and Mage, Desire Thine Darkling
Rating: this chapter not adult, just swearing
Warnings: slash, WIP
Word Count: 3,800
Disclaimer: Ashmael, Vaysh, and the harish world all belong to Storm Constantine; I'm merely playing with great abandon in her sandbox.
Pairings: Vaysh/Ashmael
Summary: Before they knew of Immanion, or Thiede, before death and despair, Ashmael and Vaysh knew and loved each other. This is one way their story may have been told.
* * * * *
"Sage and guide, may your spirit rise on the winds, whisper in the stars, lighten us in the dark places. In us, your memory will live forever. Be at peace, Monarch Lunidas," Kyrgian intoned, his melodious voice swallowed effortlessly by the hazy heat of noon. The muggy, sweltering air draped heavily on us, the physical discomfort adding to our emotional bruising. A simple ceremony was the most we had to offer; with Iolethe's help, I'd found a way to make something resembling incense. I swung a small bowl of it from a chain as had been done for high services in the eucharists of my early human childhood, censing the air above Monarch's grave with symbols of protection Belvac suggested.
I hated the smell of our camp right then; I knew it would pass, and doubtless the austere face of death would be no stranger to me in the years to come. There was shock ringing in the air as clearly as the tolls on the brass bell that hung in the kitchen, twenty-one peals for the years on this earth our murdered clan head had lived. I felt the wild animals of my conflicting emotions pulling and snarling, grazing on my bones. I wanted to tell everyone that I was taking Monarch's place as leader; I wanted to take Vaysh by the hand and run away to some hidden land, never once looking back; I wanted to hunt down every fucking Wraeththu who killed pointlessly like a human punk, to slice figure eights into their abdomens and to watch their guts tumble onto the earth like mutant slugs. I wanted to hold Jaffa to me and swear to him that it was going to be all right, that he'd never again have to kill another har in self-defence, that we were more enlightened than the humans we'd once been…
Of course, I did none of those things. I became as practical and composed as I could, and was gratified when I saw that my actions allowed other hara to mourn openly, or expel their rage, and to seek solace in each other. I took comfort in having helped to bring order so quickly to our chaos; my insightful efficiency and patience was respected and valued. My harbrethren's ability to cope was a salve to my spirit, still reeling from it all.
Opequon, Vaysh, Kyrgian, Belvac and I sat up that night in the library, drinking vralsfire. It was a rather potent liquor Ondin had distilled from the peaches found in orchards in the nearby valley.
"We'd known there would be changes soon," Kyrgian said dully.
"Not like this," Belvac said, rocking on the back legs of his chair, his crossed feet propped up on a desk. "I wouldn't want foresight to see my own death."
"He certainly didn't see that," Kyrgian slurred, his face drawn and haggard. "The air's no good here now. We should move."
"I agree."
Vaysh slumped elegantly in his chair, his long legs spread wide, the heels of his boots planted on the wooden floor. It was a sight that normally would have inflamed my passion like a raging forest fire, but the thought of aruna was far from my mind. "There's a stone refuge on a mountain not far from here. There was no sign of human inhabitants for miles around it, and the buildings themselves are vacant. It would be easier to defend, and it has sacred ground. It's haunted me in dreams since we passed through."
"A stone refuge?" I asked, knocking back my drink and pouring another large splash. A fizz of memory crackled in my mind; chills of premonition caused goosebumps to rise on my skin. "I think I know exactly where you mean. But we've got to give it a new name."
Opequon looked curiously at me, his green-striped black hair pulled into a short ponytail at the base of his neck. "Did your clan come from middle Megalithica? From your voices, I assumed you were from further south."
I couldn't bear to say the name of the bombed-out wasteland of my beloved childhood home. Yes, its human refinement had been mauled from it by gangs of humans and then rampaging, untamed Wraeththu when I was still rather young, but I'd seen pictures and been told of the jewel it had been in history. It was so awkward, wanting to shed every trapping of my humanity and yet being so close to it, part dispassionate anthropologist and part regretful scribe of my own former race.
"We did," I said, and poured the rest of my vralsfire down my throat. "I had family, uncles and a grandfather, who were scholars at the refuge you passed through. I think it would be a safe place to go. There's arable land around and plenty of it. Lots of woods, too. I doubt there are any working generators, though. Electricity is a dream of the past."
"We'll find other ways," Belvac promised.
"Tomorrow, then," Kyrgian sighed. "Tomorrow we'll gather our things and move on. Ashmael, I think you're the har to organise it."
"I will."
There was time for more remembrances, and talk of the future before we all retired to our rooms. I went with Vaysh, to the former guesthouse. That night we took aruna together, slow and with the promise of healing. Away from everyone else, I watered his compassionate face with my tears.
* * * * *
It was a few days' unhurried ride to the base of the plateau. This part of Megalithica remained relatively unchanged and unmarred from the cataclysmic events that had gone on around it. The low rollings of hills and trees didn't harbour ghosts, though the oppressive heat was wearing. There was a black ribbon of asphalt I knew led up the mountain, but for our safety we took a route through neglected farms and tree-covered countryside. Euclase and Llembara rode ahead, scouting for humans and hara alike. I'd wanted to talk with Jaffa about his experiences during the attack, but he was tight-lipped, sulky and withdrawn. Wycker and Belvac stayed protectively by his side, and I noticed Iolethe's light eyes returned to the young har time and again, but Jaffa had no words of substance for any of us. On the evening of our fifth day of travelling, after dinner Iolethe suggested to Kyrgian that they go take a walk. Dark storm clouds hunkered over our destination, and the electric tang of an intense thunderstorm permeated the air. Opequon, Ondin and Wyngarr were tending to our horses, who whinnied their unease as the churning clouds began to unleash their rain, miles away.
It reflected my own turbulence; I was ready to see what the former university looked like, ready to begin this new chapter in my harish life.
"Kyrgian and Iolethe had best not wander too far," I said to Vaysh as we erected our tent. "And I'd give my right hand for some mosquito netting right now."
"They'll be fine," Vaysh reassured me, futilely waving a pale arm at the swarm of insects that wouldn't leave us alone. "Iolethe never does anything rash. I'm sick of bugs, and summer. I always hated summer anyway." He looked up at the tree-covered mountain, its top under assault from the rain. The leaves on the trees around us were brown from lack of rain, looking as wilted as I felt.
"Autumn will be here soon. I bet it'll be absolutely beautiful once all the leaves change colour," I said. "We sure need the rain, or the earth does," I thought out loud. "Don't know if our tents are designed for the likes of the storm coming, though."
"They'd better hold so I don't spend the night feeling like a drowning rat," Vaysh said, wrinkling his nose in a way that made me think inexplicably of a twitching rabbit. He had such an animated, expressive face, once the mask of chilly haughtiness was dropped. I felt that everyhar could see my inner feelings, too, but Euclase had informed me more than once that this wasn't the case.
Vaysh tilted his head, his eyes raking over the structure, presumably looking for flaws. He turned on me suddenly. "Do you know how to reinforce it? Using some of the elemental force from the earth?"
"Me?"
His grey eyes rolled heavenward. "Yes, you. I know you've been studying, several of you. But you're not that far along in your caste, are you?"
"No, but I've gotten to be pretty decent with a knife and a gun, and that's what the Uigenna use as weapons," I snapped defensively. "I could train our group into a small army if need be. Probably should. But Kyrgian knows I can learn anything. We only have — had — two Pyralists, though. Caste progression just doesn't matter a whole lot if there's a bullet lodged in your heart or a steel-toed boot is grinding your guts into the ground."
It was only when I saw Vaysh's widened eyes take on a speculative, knowing look that I realized how sore a spot he'd touched. I was clenching my jaw, bristling like a cornered cat.
"That really wasn't meant to imply anything negative," he said, cautiously snaking out a hand to place on my bicep. His thumb swept back and forth a couple of times on the exposed, hardened muscle; if it weren't for the mosquitoes I'd have been shirtless. "It was just an observation. Not everybody's out to get you, you know. You have some rare gifts, and I know that you know you do."
With a slight squeeze he stepped back, playing with a long braid he'd pulled over the front of his shoulder. It was ridiculous, but a feeling of abandonment drifted over me at the loss of contact.
"My gifts aren't all in my strength, or my mind." I wondered where this unexpected need for confession had come from. "I'm not the most soume har around, but I do have a heart. I can make room for someone else in it. I've loved, and do still. Even if it's something we're supposed to have moved beyond."
Noises of the others in the camp drifted in and out of my awareness; I couldn't help but be semi-conscious of where everyone in our clan was, or was supposed to be, even while bearing up under Vaysh's now somewhat frosty scrutiny.
"Does this love dare speak its name?" Vaysh asked imperiously.
Before I could answer and deal with any unnecessary jealousy, an anguished cry of rage sounded from near the stream where we'd set up our bivouac. It was followed by a flood of repetitive invectives ending with another yell, cursing all of us.
"What the hell is Jaffa's problem?" I asked, stomping off to remind the young har that we really didn't need to be broadcasting our presence to every living creature in the woods.
"Ash, he's coping with his change."
Vaysh's pacifying tone didn't make me feel any better, and I doubted it would do anything but piss off the young har to a higher level of rage.
"We're all coping with a lot of baggage, but we're not all telling the world to fuck off," I retorted, unsurprised when I saw Wyngarr and Vox had beaten me to Jaffa's side.
Yes, but you're not dealing with a first crush, obsessing about aruna, being uprooted from your home, all on top of a few days of high excitement with new har, ending with your harbrethren being brutally attacked. He killed for the first time just days ago, and we buried Monarch, who was obviously like a father to him.
I chose to ignore the implied "you insensitive clod" that followed his telepathic chastisement.
True. Where's Iolethe? He said he'd help Jaffa out.
Taking aruna with Kyrgian, I'm sure, Vaysh's mind-touch stated matter-of-factly.
Oh. I felt sheepish at having not come to that conclusion myself. Of course.
Jaffa's expression was stormy, his cheeks red and splotchy under the constellations of freckles that adorned his whole body. Vox pulled a bottle of white wine out of the stream where it had been chilling and poured some in a tin cup.
"Getting him drunk will only make him miserable and hung over!" Wyngarr said, exasperated.
"I won't get drunk, I just want to be able to sleep," Jaffa growled, scratching at his arms. Tension pulled at his limbs like a puppeteer with a willful marionette. "Thanks."
He took the cup from Vox's hands, swallowing it all in several gulps and then belching. "That's awful," he moaned, covering his mouth and looking very young again. The fierceness had been plucked from his face, the thorn pulled from a rose. Jaffa's heavy-lidded eyes came to rest on me, then skimmed over to Vaysh. In the background of the drama, Wyngarr made soothing noises and shot dagger glances at Vox.
"Jaffa, I'm sorry you don't feel like yourself." I squatted near to him and Wyngarr made a space for me to sit. Oddly enough, Wyngarr looked more like kin than Jaffa's own brother did, though Wyngarr's hair was more auburn and straight. Jaffa's was a true orange copper that formed ringlets at the slightest provocation.
"I feel like utter shit," he said vehemently. I did notice the wispy smile tug at his mouth when he saw I would let him get away with his swearing, at least for now.
"Iolethe says it's feybraiha and, thank the Aghama, it doesn't last that long. I'm sure we should have some ceremony— you're a celebrity, Jaffa. First in our clan to go through it!"
"It's not exactly anything worth celebrating," he said, scratching under his right armpit. "I'm always itchy, and these damn mosquitoes are terrible, my skin's hot where the hair's growing, and I can't believe…" his rasped voice trailed off. Vox poured more wine into the cup and placed it gently in Jaffa's hand, ignoring the disapproving rumble in Wyngarr's throat. "I killed another har."
His pale hand trembled and just then a deafening crack of lightning ripped at the sky. The white wine soaked Jaffa's shirt as the tin cup went flying over his shoulder with his startled reflexes. A booming roll of thunder pounded above us, though there was still no rain.
"Quite a show," Vaysh said sardonically. He threw his braid over his back and gazed up at the lightning as it cavorted, streaking blinding white arrows across the churning sky. I could tell the rain wouldn't arrive for a few minutes, perhaps a quarter hour. It seemed prudent to make sure everyhar's tents were as waterproofed as possible.
"It is worth celebrating," I heard Vaysh continue on behind me. I turned around to see he and Wyngarr help Jaffa up from the ground. He cursed his sodden shirt and fate in general. "You've obviously been thinking about what's happening to you; you don't need to be embarrassed. Aruna is the most natural thing in the world. We'd become bitter, hollow creatures without it."
"Nothing against you, tiahaar," Jaffa said, fuming at the world, his lips pursed and hands balled into fists, "but I really, really don't want to talk about this. Not with you."
Vox's gaze lit to mine, his eyebrows raised. I just felt out of place. I was no guide, and Jaffa hadn't been giving me any furtive glances that I'd noticed. And notice I would have, I assumed— he wasn't exactly a paragon of subtlety right now.
"It's okay, I understand," Vaysh said, raising his voice to be heard above the wind. It had picked up, teasing groans and sighs from the overhead tree limbs.
"I suggest we get back to our shelter," I said, unable to stop myself from dropping a hand on Jaffa's shoulder and rubbing at the bony line.
Discussions about who should explain the nuts and bolts of aruna as well as its more esoteric and emotional qualities went on despite Jaffa's wishes otherwise as we walked back to the center of camp. There a fire still crackled, its heat unnecessary but it beckoned cheerily nonetheless.
"Shut up about it!" Jaffa yelled, his face scarlet. "Just leave me the hell alone! I'll take care of this on my own. Not until we're at our new place, don't worry, even though I feel like I'm going to crawl out of my skin," he said spitefully, glaring at me.
"Do what you want!" I said, holding up my hands in surrender. "I'm not your father. Don't hurt yourself, that's all I ask." Why he'd turned on me I couldn't fathom. He was being supremely irritating, even though I did feel sorry for him.
"Fine!" he snapped, his tone dripping with sarcasm and frustration.
"Can't he just do this now? I know he's physically mature enough," Wyngarr said, appealing to Vaysh, which only further grated on me. I wasn't meant for this kind of domestic exchange, but Jaffa held a special place in my heart due to his youth. "What does the difference of a few days make?"
"What do you think?" Vaysh asked of Jaffa as the scent of rain filled my nostrils.
"Nobody asked me, but I still think we should get ready for a downpour," I said, looking pointedly at each of them. We'd approached a pair sitting near the fire, talking in low voices; it was Abelard and Belvac.
"I think you should all leave me the fuck alone! Except you! You're who I want," Jaffa spluttered. He looked to be on the verge of furious tears. I followed the arch of his trembling arm to see he was pointing, inconceivably, at Abelard.
"You want me to do what?" he asked, obviously confused and a bit taken aback at our group arrival and Jaffa's manners. Abelard had seemed the most reticent of their group, dark and brooding in a way that reminded me of Belvac. Those two had drawn closely together and got on like a house on fire. They had a secretive, intense friendship already. How could Jaffa, a blazing comet of good humour and precocious intelligence, be drawn to Abelard?
"I'm going through feybraiha. I hate it," he moaned, burying his face in his hands. Seconds later he stood up straight again, looking wretched, as though about to martyr himself. "I just want this to be over with. If you don't think you could stand being with me, I understand. But if I get to choose, it's you I want to take aruna with. Since I'm supposed to, and then it'll get everybody off my back."
Everyone appeared surprised at Jaffa's poignant outburst, Belvac and Abelard not the least. From the gauzy curtain of hurt on Belvac's face, he'd evidently thought he might have been selected, not his companion. Abelard slowly stood up, angular but fluid in his movements, his soume side not particularly pronounced. His dark brown eyes shone with delight, though when he glanced over at me, I saw trepidation and a silent entreaty for approval. I nodded, not that I was Jaffa's guardian, but I was closer to him than Kyrgian was. And Kyrgian had his own agenda right now.
"How about you and I go to my tent with some wine, and let's talk first," Abelard said, walking the few steps to take the bottle from Vox's hands. "From there what we do is up to you. I'm flattered that you want to share yourself with me."
That seemed to be the perfect response. Though the rain and thrashing wind was almost upon us, the storm in Jaffa's expression had passed and he beamed at the lanky har. "Sounds great," he enthused before turning to grin widely at Vox. "Don't you and Polaris wait up." Swinging the bottle of wine to one side and taking Abelard's proffered hand in the other, Jaffa sauntered off to a tent near the outskirts of the circle.
Heavy drops of rain began spattering the ground, forcing us all hurriedly to take cover in our own tents. I've always loved thunderstorms, but they make me sleepy. Being held in Vaysh's arms on as flat and rock-free a surface we could find, I yawned, still reveling in the novelty of feeling so protected and cherished by another being.
"I hope Jaffa doesn't feel cheated out of a big party," I said, nosing at the sandalwood scent of Vaysh's neck. Given how violently Jaffa's moods were swinging, chances were he'd sulk if we had one, and sulk if we didn't. Hopefully taking aruna with Abelard would smooth out the edges and make him bearable again, even endearing.
"Who's to stop us from having one once we're up on the mountain and get settled in?" Vaysh asked reasonably. He combed his fingers through my hair and I wished I could purr. I was so content, the rain pounding on canvas above our heads, Ondin and Wycker on first watch, my ouana-lim heavy but not demanding attention.
"Nobody. Abelard seemed like an odd choice, but what do I know?"
"You know to follow your instincts," Vaysh murmured in my ear. "It's served you well, and will him, too."
We lay together in a comfortable silence as the storm raged until I heard Vaysh's quiet voice again.
"What was it like for you?"
"My inception?"
He nodded into my scalp. I spread out my palm over his hip, grounding myself against his increasingly familiar body as I brought back the key memories of that time.
"I was scared. Exhilarated. It was painful, and rebellion, and seduction."
I leaned back and slowly angled my head so that we could share breath. Like an unhurried bee, going from flower to flower, I gave him a memory here, a remembrance there. My becoming Wraeththu had been an act of anarchy, my perceptions and worldliness smashed by the reality of writhing in terror and agony in my own filth for days before it was over.
"Euclase was there?" he asked gently as I laid my head back down on our makeshift pillow of blankets.
I nodded. He'd had an easier time of things. I was now certain that this had been because his imagination soared to truths I couldn't truly believe until I felt my own realities shift and mutate in my own body. I'd had no regrets, but the blunt blade of transformation had torn ragged holes in my spirit which took time to heal.
"What was his name?"
"Before?"
It was difficult to say; it seemed like a defamation, to evoke his human name. "Eric."
I of course knew the next question before it was asked.
And you?
I buried my face into the soft skin of Vaysh's neck, pressed against a masculine, adult jaw and chin that would never again need to know the scrape of a razor. I was changed. My old self was gone forever, our whole former race, doomed. We had moved on, and looking back made me discomfited and melancholy.
Andrew.
.:~ tbc ~:.
Title: Maelstrom and Mage, Desire Thine Darkling
Rating: this chapter not adult, just swearing
Warnings: slash, WIP
Word Count: 3,800
Disclaimer: Ashmael, Vaysh, and the harish world all belong to Storm Constantine; I'm merely playing with great abandon in her sandbox.
Pairings: Vaysh/Ashmael
Summary: Before they knew of Immanion, or Thiede, before death and despair, Ashmael and Vaysh knew and loved each other. This is one way their story may have been told.
* * * * *
"Sage and guide, may your spirit rise on the winds, whisper in the stars, lighten us in the dark places. In us, your memory will live forever. Be at peace, Monarch Lunidas," Kyrgian intoned, his melodious voice swallowed effortlessly by the hazy heat of noon. The muggy, sweltering air draped heavily on us, the physical discomfort adding to our emotional bruising. A simple ceremony was the most we had to offer; with Iolethe's help, I'd found a way to make something resembling incense. I swung a small bowl of it from a chain as had been done for high services in the eucharists of my early human childhood, censing the air above Monarch's grave with symbols of protection Belvac suggested.
I hated the smell of our camp right then; I knew it would pass, and doubtless the austere face of death would be no stranger to me in the years to come. There was shock ringing in the air as clearly as the tolls on the brass bell that hung in the kitchen, twenty-one peals for the years on this earth our murdered clan head had lived. I felt the wild animals of my conflicting emotions pulling and snarling, grazing on my bones. I wanted to tell everyone that I was taking Monarch's place as leader; I wanted to take Vaysh by the hand and run away to some hidden land, never once looking back; I wanted to hunt down every fucking Wraeththu who killed pointlessly like a human punk, to slice figure eights into their abdomens and to watch their guts tumble onto the earth like mutant slugs. I wanted to hold Jaffa to me and swear to him that it was going to be all right, that he'd never again have to kill another har in self-defence, that we were more enlightened than the humans we'd once been…
Of course, I did none of those things. I became as practical and composed as I could, and was gratified when I saw that my actions allowed other hara to mourn openly, or expel their rage, and to seek solace in each other. I took comfort in having helped to bring order so quickly to our chaos; my insightful efficiency and patience was respected and valued. My harbrethren's ability to cope was a salve to my spirit, still reeling from it all.
Opequon, Vaysh, Kyrgian, Belvac and I sat up that night in the library, drinking vralsfire. It was a rather potent liquor Ondin had distilled from the peaches found in orchards in the nearby valley.
"We'd known there would be changes soon," Kyrgian said dully.
"Not like this," Belvac said, rocking on the back legs of his chair, his crossed feet propped up on a desk. "I wouldn't want foresight to see my own death."
"He certainly didn't see that," Kyrgian slurred, his face drawn and haggard. "The air's no good here now. We should move."
"I agree."
Vaysh slumped elegantly in his chair, his long legs spread wide, the heels of his boots planted on the wooden floor. It was a sight that normally would have inflamed my passion like a raging forest fire, but the thought of aruna was far from my mind. "There's a stone refuge on a mountain not far from here. There was no sign of human inhabitants for miles around it, and the buildings themselves are vacant. It would be easier to defend, and it has sacred ground. It's haunted me in dreams since we passed through."
"A stone refuge?" I asked, knocking back my drink and pouring another large splash. A fizz of memory crackled in my mind; chills of premonition caused goosebumps to rise on my skin. "I think I know exactly where you mean. But we've got to give it a new name."
Opequon looked curiously at me, his green-striped black hair pulled into a short ponytail at the base of his neck. "Did your clan come from middle Megalithica? From your voices, I assumed you were from further south."
I couldn't bear to say the name of the bombed-out wasteland of my beloved childhood home. Yes, its human refinement had been mauled from it by gangs of humans and then rampaging, untamed Wraeththu when I was still rather young, but I'd seen pictures and been told of the jewel it had been in history. It was so awkward, wanting to shed every trapping of my humanity and yet being so close to it, part dispassionate anthropologist and part regretful scribe of my own former race.
"We did," I said, and poured the rest of my vralsfire down my throat. "I had family, uncles and a grandfather, who were scholars at the refuge you passed through. I think it would be a safe place to go. There's arable land around and plenty of it. Lots of woods, too. I doubt there are any working generators, though. Electricity is a dream of the past."
"We'll find other ways," Belvac promised.
"Tomorrow, then," Kyrgian sighed. "Tomorrow we'll gather our things and move on. Ashmael, I think you're the har to organise it."
"I will."
There was time for more remembrances, and talk of the future before we all retired to our rooms. I went with Vaysh, to the former guesthouse. That night we took aruna together, slow and with the promise of healing. Away from everyone else, I watered his compassionate face with my tears.
* * * * *
It was a few days' unhurried ride to the base of the plateau. This part of Megalithica remained relatively unchanged and unmarred from the cataclysmic events that had gone on around it. The low rollings of hills and trees didn't harbour ghosts, though the oppressive heat was wearing. There was a black ribbon of asphalt I knew led up the mountain, but for our safety we took a route through neglected farms and tree-covered countryside. Euclase and Llembara rode ahead, scouting for humans and hara alike. I'd wanted to talk with Jaffa about his experiences during the attack, but he was tight-lipped, sulky and withdrawn. Wycker and Belvac stayed protectively by his side, and I noticed Iolethe's light eyes returned to the young har time and again, but Jaffa had no words of substance for any of us. On the evening of our fifth day of travelling, after dinner Iolethe suggested to Kyrgian that they go take a walk. Dark storm clouds hunkered over our destination, and the electric tang of an intense thunderstorm permeated the air. Opequon, Ondin and Wyngarr were tending to our horses, who whinnied their unease as the churning clouds began to unleash their rain, miles away.
It reflected my own turbulence; I was ready to see what the former university looked like, ready to begin this new chapter in my harish life.
"Kyrgian and Iolethe had best not wander too far," I said to Vaysh as we erected our tent. "And I'd give my right hand for some mosquito netting right now."
"They'll be fine," Vaysh reassured me, futilely waving a pale arm at the swarm of insects that wouldn't leave us alone. "Iolethe never does anything rash. I'm sick of bugs, and summer. I always hated summer anyway." He looked up at the tree-covered mountain, its top under assault from the rain. The leaves on the trees around us were brown from lack of rain, looking as wilted as I felt.
"Autumn will be here soon. I bet it'll be absolutely beautiful once all the leaves change colour," I said. "We sure need the rain, or the earth does," I thought out loud. "Don't know if our tents are designed for the likes of the storm coming, though."
"They'd better hold so I don't spend the night feeling like a drowning rat," Vaysh said, wrinkling his nose in a way that made me think inexplicably of a twitching rabbit. He had such an animated, expressive face, once the mask of chilly haughtiness was dropped. I felt that everyhar could see my inner feelings, too, but Euclase had informed me more than once that this wasn't the case.
Vaysh tilted his head, his eyes raking over the structure, presumably looking for flaws. He turned on me suddenly. "Do you know how to reinforce it? Using some of the elemental force from the earth?"
"Me?"
His grey eyes rolled heavenward. "Yes, you. I know you've been studying, several of you. But you're not that far along in your caste, are you?"
"No, but I've gotten to be pretty decent with a knife and a gun, and that's what the Uigenna use as weapons," I snapped defensively. "I could train our group into a small army if need be. Probably should. But Kyrgian knows I can learn anything. We only have — had — two Pyralists, though. Caste progression just doesn't matter a whole lot if there's a bullet lodged in your heart or a steel-toed boot is grinding your guts into the ground."
It was only when I saw Vaysh's widened eyes take on a speculative, knowing look that I realized how sore a spot he'd touched. I was clenching my jaw, bristling like a cornered cat.
"That really wasn't meant to imply anything negative," he said, cautiously snaking out a hand to place on my bicep. His thumb swept back and forth a couple of times on the exposed, hardened muscle; if it weren't for the mosquitoes I'd have been shirtless. "It was just an observation. Not everybody's out to get you, you know. You have some rare gifts, and I know that you know you do."
With a slight squeeze he stepped back, playing with a long braid he'd pulled over the front of his shoulder. It was ridiculous, but a feeling of abandonment drifted over me at the loss of contact.
"My gifts aren't all in my strength, or my mind." I wondered where this unexpected need for confession had come from. "I'm not the most soume har around, but I do have a heart. I can make room for someone else in it. I've loved, and do still. Even if it's something we're supposed to have moved beyond."
Noises of the others in the camp drifted in and out of my awareness; I couldn't help but be semi-conscious of where everyone in our clan was, or was supposed to be, even while bearing up under Vaysh's now somewhat frosty scrutiny.
"Does this love dare speak its name?" Vaysh asked imperiously.
Before I could answer and deal with any unnecessary jealousy, an anguished cry of rage sounded from near the stream where we'd set up our bivouac. It was followed by a flood of repetitive invectives ending with another yell, cursing all of us.
"What the hell is Jaffa's problem?" I asked, stomping off to remind the young har that we really didn't need to be broadcasting our presence to every living creature in the woods.
"Ash, he's coping with his change."
Vaysh's pacifying tone didn't make me feel any better, and I doubted it would do anything but piss off the young har to a higher level of rage.
"We're all coping with a lot of baggage, but we're not all telling the world to fuck off," I retorted, unsurprised when I saw Wyngarr and Vox had beaten me to Jaffa's side.
Yes, but you're not dealing with a first crush, obsessing about aruna, being uprooted from your home, all on top of a few days of high excitement with new har, ending with your harbrethren being brutally attacked. He killed for the first time just days ago, and we buried Monarch, who was obviously like a father to him.
I chose to ignore the implied "you insensitive clod" that followed his telepathic chastisement.
True. Where's Iolethe? He said he'd help Jaffa out.
Taking aruna with Kyrgian, I'm sure, Vaysh's mind-touch stated matter-of-factly.
Oh. I felt sheepish at having not come to that conclusion myself. Of course.
Jaffa's expression was stormy, his cheeks red and splotchy under the constellations of freckles that adorned his whole body. Vox pulled a bottle of white wine out of the stream where it had been chilling and poured some in a tin cup.
"Getting him drunk will only make him miserable and hung over!" Wyngarr said, exasperated.
"I won't get drunk, I just want to be able to sleep," Jaffa growled, scratching at his arms. Tension pulled at his limbs like a puppeteer with a willful marionette. "Thanks."
He took the cup from Vox's hands, swallowing it all in several gulps and then belching. "That's awful," he moaned, covering his mouth and looking very young again. The fierceness had been plucked from his face, the thorn pulled from a rose. Jaffa's heavy-lidded eyes came to rest on me, then skimmed over to Vaysh. In the background of the drama, Wyngarr made soothing noises and shot dagger glances at Vox.
"Jaffa, I'm sorry you don't feel like yourself." I squatted near to him and Wyngarr made a space for me to sit. Oddly enough, Wyngarr looked more like kin than Jaffa's own brother did, though Wyngarr's hair was more auburn and straight. Jaffa's was a true orange copper that formed ringlets at the slightest provocation.
"I feel like utter shit," he said vehemently. I did notice the wispy smile tug at his mouth when he saw I would let him get away with his swearing, at least for now.
"Iolethe says it's feybraiha and, thank the Aghama, it doesn't last that long. I'm sure we should have some ceremony— you're a celebrity, Jaffa. First in our clan to go through it!"
"It's not exactly anything worth celebrating," he said, scratching under his right armpit. "I'm always itchy, and these damn mosquitoes are terrible, my skin's hot where the hair's growing, and I can't believe…" his rasped voice trailed off. Vox poured more wine into the cup and placed it gently in Jaffa's hand, ignoring the disapproving rumble in Wyngarr's throat. "I killed another har."
His pale hand trembled and just then a deafening crack of lightning ripped at the sky. The white wine soaked Jaffa's shirt as the tin cup went flying over his shoulder with his startled reflexes. A booming roll of thunder pounded above us, though there was still no rain.
"Quite a show," Vaysh said sardonically. He threw his braid over his back and gazed up at the lightning as it cavorted, streaking blinding white arrows across the churning sky. I could tell the rain wouldn't arrive for a few minutes, perhaps a quarter hour. It seemed prudent to make sure everyhar's tents were as waterproofed as possible.
"It is worth celebrating," I heard Vaysh continue on behind me. I turned around to see he and Wyngarr help Jaffa up from the ground. He cursed his sodden shirt and fate in general. "You've obviously been thinking about what's happening to you; you don't need to be embarrassed. Aruna is the most natural thing in the world. We'd become bitter, hollow creatures without it."
"Nothing against you, tiahaar," Jaffa said, fuming at the world, his lips pursed and hands balled into fists, "but I really, really don't want to talk about this. Not with you."
Vox's gaze lit to mine, his eyebrows raised. I just felt out of place. I was no guide, and Jaffa hadn't been giving me any furtive glances that I'd noticed. And notice I would have, I assumed— he wasn't exactly a paragon of subtlety right now.
"It's okay, I understand," Vaysh said, raising his voice to be heard above the wind. It had picked up, teasing groans and sighs from the overhead tree limbs.
"I suggest we get back to our shelter," I said, unable to stop myself from dropping a hand on Jaffa's shoulder and rubbing at the bony line.
Discussions about who should explain the nuts and bolts of aruna as well as its more esoteric and emotional qualities went on despite Jaffa's wishes otherwise as we walked back to the center of camp. There a fire still crackled, its heat unnecessary but it beckoned cheerily nonetheless.
"Shut up about it!" Jaffa yelled, his face scarlet. "Just leave me the hell alone! I'll take care of this on my own. Not until we're at our new place, don't worry, even though I feel like I'm going to crawl out of my skin," he said spitefully, glaring at me.
"Do what you want!" I said, holding up my hands in surrender. "I'm not your father. Don't hurt yourself, that's all I ask." Why he'd turned on me I couldn't fathom. He was being supremely irritating, even though I did feel sorry for him.
"Fine!" he snapped, his tone dripping with sarcasm and frustration.
"Can't he just do this now? I know he's physically mature enough," Wyngarr said, appealing to Vaysh, which only further grated on me. I wasn't meant for this kind of domestic exchange, but Jaffa held a special place in my heart due to his youth. "What does the difference of a few days make?"
"What do you think?" Vaysh asked of Jaffa as the scent of rain filled my nostrils.
"Nobody asked me, but I still think we should get ready for a downpour," I said, looking pointedly at each of them. We'd approached a pair sitting near the fire, talking in low voices; it was Abelard and Belvac.
"I think you should all leave me the fuck alone! Except you! You're who I want," Jaffa spluttered. He looked to be on the verge of furious tears. I followed the arch of his trembling arm to see he was pointing, inconceivably, at Abelard.
"You want me to do what?" he asked, obviously confused and a bit taken aback at our group arrival and Jaffa's manners. Abelard had seemed the most reticent of their group, dark and brooding in a way that reminded me of Belvac. Those two had drawn closely together and got on like a house on fire. They had a secretive, intense friendship already. How could Jaffa, a blazing comet of good humour and precocious intelligence, be drawn to Abelard?
"I'm going through feybraiha. I hate it," he moaned, burying his face in his hands. Seconds later he stood up straight again, looking wretched, as though about to martyr himself. "I just want this to be over with. If you don't think you could stand being with me, I understand. But if I get to choose, it's you I want to take aruna with. Since I'm supposed to, and then it'll get everybody off my back."
Everyone appeared surprised at Jaffa's poignant outburst, Belvac and Abelard not the least. From the gauzy curtain of hurt on Belvac's face, he'd evidently thought he might have been selected, not his companion. Abelard slowly stood up, angular but fluid in his movements, his soume side not particularly pronounced. His dark brown eyes shone with delight, though when he glanced over at me, I saw trepidation and a silent entreaty for approval. I nodded, not that I was Jaffa's guardian, but I was closer to him than Kyrgian was. And Kyrgian had his own agenda right now.
"How about you and I go to my tent with some wine, and let's talk first," Abelard said, walking the few steps to take the bottle from Vox's hands. "From there what we do is up to you. I'm flattered that you want to share yourself with me."
That seemed to be the perfect response. Though the rain and thrashing wind was almost upon us, the storm in Jaffa's expression had passed and he beamed at the lanky har. "Sounds great," he enthused before turning to grin widely at Vox. "Don't you and Polaris wait up." Swinging the bottle of wine to one side and taking Abelard's proffered hand in the other, Jaffa sauntered off to a tent near the outskirts of the circle.
Heavy drops of rain began spattering the ground, forcing us all hurriedly to take cover in our own tents. I've always loved thunderstorms, but they make me sleepy. Being held in Vaysh's arms on as flat and rock-free a surface we could find, I yawned, still reveling in the novelty of feeling so protected and cherished by another being.
"I hope Jaffa doesn't feel cheated out of a big party," I said, nosing at the sandalwood scent of Vaysh's neck. Given how violently Jaffa's moods were swinging, chances were he'd sulk if we had one, and sulk if we didn't. Hopefully taking aruna with Abelard would smooth out the edges and make him bearable again, even endearing.
"Who's to stop us from having one once we're up on the mountain and get settled in?" Vaysh asked reasonably. He combed his fingers through my hair and I wished I could purr. I was so content, the rain pounding on canvas above our heads, Ondin and Wycker on first watch, my ouana-lim heavy but not demanding attention.
"Nobody. Abelard seemed like an odd choice, but what do I know?"
"You know to follow your instincts," Vaysh murmured in my ear. "It's served you well, and will him, too."
We lay together in a comfortable silence as the storm raged until I heard Vaysh's quiet voice again.
"What was it like for you?"
"My inception?"
He nodded into my scalp. I spread out my palm over his hip, grounding myself against his increasingly familiar body as I brought back the key memories of that time.
"I was scared. Exhilarated. It was painful, and rebellion, and seduction."
I leaned back and slowly angled my head so that we could share breath. Like an unhurried bee, going from flower to flower, I gave him a memory here, a remembrance there. My becoming Wraeththu had been an act of anarchy, my perceptions and worldliness smashed by the reality of writhing in terror and agony in my own filth for days before it was over.
"Euclase was there?" he asked gently as I laid my head back down on our makeshift pillow of blankets.
I nodded. He'd had an easier time of things. I was now certain that this had been because his imagination soared to truths I couldn't truly believe until I felt my own realities shift and mutate in my own body. I'd had no regrets, but the blunt blade of transformation had torn ragged holes in my spirit which took time to heal.
"What was his name?"
"Before?"
It was difficult to say; it seemed like a defamation, to evoke his human name. "Eric."
I of course knew the next question before it was asked.
And you?
I buried my face into the soft skin of Vaysh's neck, pressed against a masculine, adult jaw and chin that would never again need to know the scrape of a razor. I was changed. My old self was gone forever, our whole former race, doomed. We had moved on, and looking back made me discomfited and melancholy.
Andrew.
.:~ tbc ~:.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2008-01-27 12:14 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-01-27 08:18 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-01-27 10:41 pm (UTC)Oh, everyone's having rough times here but especially Jaffa. Not to mention there's mosquitoes, and it's pouring down Raining. XD The poor guy.
So you finished the new trilogy. Yay. Was it absolutely amazing? Did you like it better than the original trilogy?
(no subject)
Date: 2008-01-28 05:14 am (UTC)Great work, wonderful handling of the first person. Looking forward to Chapter Four!
(no subject)
Date: 2008-01-28 02:59 pm (UTC)I did finish the new trilogy, and actually, I prefer the first trilogy. I spent a lot of "Ghosts" as I had in "Shades", wondering where the heck Flick and Ulaume were! Plus, I just didn't find myself as engaged with the higher-ups manipulating events on earth, and to be honest, I just don't care that much about Lileem; she and Mima and the Kamagrian don't grab me. Probably because I'm such a slash writer! Plus it seems to perpetuate the male/female dynamic. The second generation as such just didn't grab me as emotionally like the first did. There's something more compelling about the first generation; they were written more vibrantly, somehow, at least to my eye. Perhaps I'm biased since I'm so engrossed in my fic which is set in the early years, but I didn't find it as engrossing as the first trilogy. That's not to say I didn't enjoy it, but I've been re-reading the first trilogy all along and still find it a more absorbing work of fiction.
You??
(no subject)
Date: 2008-01-28 03:01 pm (UTC)I've not written first person in forever, so thank you also for that. I'm definitely trying to evoke the feeling of the first trilogy, and each of those books are written in first person, so I thought I'd try my hand at it.
Chapter four is well on its way! Inceptions ahoy! And there'll be pictures, too. :)
(no subject)
Date: 2008-01-28 06:18 pm (UTC)If the original trilogy had never been written, the new trilogy would have not moved me as much, per se; it would have read like a parable on magic, myths, gender and esoterics.
The original trilogy is hands-down my favorite. This is the trilogy I quote from all the time (when reccing it someone or other); it's like that quote that prefaces the 2nd book: energy is love -- love is magic. And there's so much energy and passion in the first books. and of course there's Cal, who throughout all three books was on a Quest and he never knew it (that surprise factor is so yay), but we were there to see him grow every step of the way. That kind of extensive journey endears one to characters.
Like, Flick and Ulaume were my favorites in Wraiths -- just the existence of their relationship made me so gleeful because think of how far they were from each other in the first trilogy! How could we have ever guessed those two -- the most unlikely hara -- would end up together. >3 Some hara like Tyson, were given more story. I love Tyson. He's such a TEEANGER and he's so Cal in so many ways. aahaha.
But there were characters I loved who weren't in the original trilogy at all. I really liked Diablo. "Bath?" ".... Immerse yourself for some time ... in water."
(no subject)
Date: 2008-01-29 12:22 am (UTC)As for characters I was intrigued by who show up only in the third trilogy, I fell for Galdra. And Moon. But for another later-set gapfiller, I know I'd be drawn to a Flick/Ulaume/Aleeme/Azriel story, explaining their recovery or lack thereof, and what the heck Flick and Ulaume were doing while their beloved child was being held in Fulminir.
Diablo I really disliked. ;) But I think we were supposed to...
(no subject)
Date: 2008-01-29 04:48 am (UTC)Galdra seemed to me a little too perfect to sympathize with. XD idk. I am with you about Flick/Ulaume though. Wish there'd been scenes with them. :/ I wonder if they're still living at Pell's old house. The recover of Aleeme, I'd like to read that.
(no subject)
Date: 2008-01-29 03:02 pm (UTC)I've always been curious about the way that newly incepted hara would cut themselves off from their past lives so entirely. With the exception of Pell and his family, we never really learn anything about their previous, human lives, and what baggage they bring, so it's interesting to see you exploring that area - in particular the conflict between the ideals of the new society, and the way things actually *are*!
As I remember, Ashmael refers to his relationship with Vaysh as "...heresy" in "Enchantments", so there was obviously some tension there. I'll be interested to see how things develop (..and what happens to Jaffa. I'm sure a very...er... spiritual experience awaits him! ;-)
(no subject)
Date: 2008-01-29 04:46 pm (UTC)Egads. I'm now doubly paranoid, because I'm afraid that not only am I portraying Ashmael as too bookish (though he's changing; but in beginning to read your 'Choosing Sides' and your description of his younger/newly harish life, it rang far more true than my meagre understanding, here), but also that I'm not moving quickly enough. As the author, I'm interested in their early years before the canon material kicks in, but perhaps I'm being too meticulous and verbose. I have a couple more big events before the inexorable interlacing with canon, and from there on out, it's gapfiller within canon.
"Heresy?" Hmmm. I remember looking at the few mentions that Ashmael has for Pellaz about how he felt about Vaysh, that being the kick-start for this fic at all. My interpretation was that he felt remorse and a bit of shame in that they did love so deeply, when they were meant to be beyond such things. That's how I've been interpreting their relationship, which would indeed make it heretical, in a way.
I adore Jaffa. I've already planned out the arrival of his eventual to-be chesnari and everything, lol!! I'm really a mess when I'm so engrossed in a story like this. Doesn't happen all that often, so I'm really enjoying it, but I don't want to bore my few readers to tears.
(no subject)
Date: 2008-01-29 09:41 pm (UTC)I'm not sure if Ashmael felt ashamed of his relationship with Vaysh - when he says "... and here's a Wraeththu heresy... he was mine", he actually sounds as if he's... well, not proud of bucking the system exactly, but not ashamed of it either. He says something to the effect that Thiede allows him some autonomy of thought because he helped Thiede build his kingdom, and he's obviously a bit of a thorn in Thiede's flesh in a way that the other members of the Hegemony aren't! I think his regrets are to do with having gotten so emotionally involved, and then having suffered the consequences when he lost the person he loved.
It was heretical from a Gelaming point of view, of course - they were big on that whole not getting emotionally attached to any one person in particular thing. That was for uncivilised types, like Varrs (or humans!). And of course this happened before Pell showed up, imagining himself to be a Unique and Special Snowflake because of his relationship with Cal. (not Pell's biggest fan, in case you hadn't noticed ;-).
I would imagine that this idealism about the emtional aspect of relationships and not being exclusive would have been quite... fervent in the early days, before they all got a dose of reality.
(no subject)
Date: 2008-01-29 11:05 pm (UTC)I'd taken that comment you quoted as the whole basis for my story: that he's *not* ashamed of it at all; they definitely bucked the trend and he doesn't apologize for it, and it really does scar him for his harish life post-Vaysh. And since you're more familiar with this than I am, I'm going to have Vaysh be killed (because Ashmael says he dies in his arms, right??!), do we have any kind of actual year chronology of how many years Wraeththu have been in existance before Pellaz is incepted? To my imagination, I'm going to have Ashmael and Vaysh have only been har for 5 years before being summoned to Immanion. Or Ashmael, anyway. I'll just email you and you can let me know your thoughts, lol!!
I would imagine that this idealism about the emtional aspect of relationships and not being exclusive would have been quite... fervent in the early days, before they all got a dose of reality.
Well… I do wonder about that, because Cal apologizes to Pell at Saltrock when he gets called to participate in Grissecon, and he says that while many people are paired up, they can't afford to stay that way. Which, to my mind, means that they (first generation, anyway) did still instinctively pair off, even if it wasn't sexually exclusive.
Yeah, I've been giving this a whole lot of thought, but I'll email you and ramble there! :)
(no subject)
Date: 2008-03-09 07:36 pm (UTC)I liked Ashmael and Vaysh remembering their human names. I have thought it curious that none of Storm's characters seem to think about their pre-har existence. Certainly Cal should have at some point in his long mental monologues. It's almost as if that part of their lives burns away completely and the memory is traumatic in some way. Pell remembers some of his early life, but then we are introduced to him before he changes. I very much like your exploration of all these questions raised by Storm's creation.
Also a small touch I've noticed that I like - Vaysh playing with his braid, tossing it over his shoulder or bringing it forward. It's a characteristic action that helps me see him.
Did you make up vralsfire? It sounded just right.
Since I like it when people point out to me a line that they particularly liked, I try to do the same for others.
"I hated the smell of our camp right then;"
"There was shock ringing in the air as clearly as the tolls on the brass bell . . ."
Vivid sensual descriptions.
I'm also enjoying your Ashmael's voice and getting inside his feelings. First person is always a good choice for that, especially if you take time to investigate what the person is thinking.
I look forward reading more later. Gotta get back to my own stuff.
Cheers,