"Down the Whispering Well," post 3
Mar. 30th, 2008 06:57 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
thrihyrneTitle: Down the Whispering Well
This post rating: adultish
Warnings: drug use, non-explicit rooning
Word Count: 3300
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 (historic); Vaysh/OC – this post, Vaysh/Velaxis
Summary: Being brought back from the dead doesn't mean happily ever after, especially if you're Vaysh. Life has its costs, and he pays dearly. An exploration of Vaysh's character in the years before and through Pellaz's transformation, and the burdens he endures, because he must.
It's Natalia, no longer Vaysh's favourite holday. Not a har to miss a party, he goes, but the night plays out far differently than he imagined. This post a bit shorter than some, but soon the plot will pick up. Continued from the prior post, here. As always, comments welcome and ruminated upon! I'll admit that my take on Velaxis has been gratefully influenced by the stunning writings of![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
camile_sinensis.
Tyger! Tyger! burning bright,
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?
When the stars threw down their spears,
And watered heaven with their tears,
Did he smile his work to see?
Did he who made the lamb, make thee?
~ from "The Tyger," William Blake
* * * * *
"I'll be right down, I promise," I said cajolingly.
Feslavit gave me a dark, searching look. "You will not stay up here and get drunk alone," he declared, jerking a thumb at the door to my rooms. "I have broken it down before. I will not hesitate to do so again."
"I'll be down," I said, glaring right back at him. "And I'll be on my best behaviour. I just want to collect my thoughts. I'm ready to make some new memories," I tacked on, hoping his optimism for me would suck up that vastly untrue sentiment like a sponge.
He did, his features softening. "It is good your companions are here. I know you still have much to catch up on."
"We do. Ten minutes. If I'm not downstairs, you have my permission to kick in the door."
"You are beautiful," he said reverently.
"You're gorgeous and you know it," I said, moving toward my bathroom and shooing him away.
He had the decency to shut the door and the audacity to trust me. That took me by surprise. I'd only wanted the privacy to take care of a little business, namely getting out the drugs I'd bought during the summer and putting one of those crystals to use. Within a few moments I'd melted one of the crystals and shot it into my bloodstream, in between my big toe and second toe. The effect was nearly instantaneous, and wickedly strong. Yes, now I'd be able to cope with all of the carefree, drunk hara— thanks to the tiger balm, or some loose translation to that effect, I could be carefree, stoned, and drunk, too. Two shots of dauthi, and my nerves were limpid conveyors of calm.
I took a last look in the mirror and decided I was passable. Feslavit had demanded to do my hair, treating me like royalty, using wide heated irons to make loose waves and weaving in tiny azure ribbons. He'd wanted to dress me, too; I couldn't find it in myself to argue. In contrast with the feminine hairstyle, I found myself in skintight pants, my aubergine lace-up boots, a fitted shirt, unbuttoned to the waist, and Nordic-looking bronze armbands. In a fit of drug-propelled whimsy, I painted my lips bright red.
I strutted downstairs where the Natalia celebration was going on full swing. A glass of wine was put in my hand and I drank greedily. The transformation of the stone bulwark to a cheery, light- and foliage-filled chorus of inviting rooms was astonishing. I sensed my presence being sought out, and followed the summons. Unsurprisingly, I found I was in the doorway of one of the libraries, a blazing fire exuding warmth where Jaffa and Firethorn held court over the curious hara who'd been waiting for the party to badger them with questions.
"Ah! There you are! I was beginning to worry!" Firethorn's smile outshone even the huge candelabra hanging from the ceiling. Jaffa continued to keep me emotionally at arm's length; I didn't blame him for that at all.
"No worrying allowed. Even up here in this land of infernal cold hara can put together a fabulous party to chase away cheerless, bleak thoughts."
I gratefully accepted a refill on my wine but realised I needed to slow down or I'd be shunted off to my bed in a very undignified manner far too early. For all of the chemical reinforcements I felt I needed, I was pleased to see them. They were a part of my dead past, but they'd not been as inextricably linked to Ashmael like Parallax, or Vox and Polaris would have been.
"So!" I exclaimed, reclining on a wide, overstuffed chaise near the fire. "I expect a full report. Tell me what you've been up to, your adventures, the juiciest gossip from Castlegar. I'm ready to hear it now."
"You're certain?" Jaffa asked, nursing a lurid violet cocktail whose ingredients I couldn't begin to guess. "You've been running a bit hot and cold. I don't want you to pass out or go off into hiding again for a few days." He seemed to regard me like I was a freakish ghost, about to blow away or rattle chains at him at any moment.
"Thank you for your concern. I'd apologise for my behaviour, but I can't bring myself to do it," I said with a rueful smile. "I'd not been told you were coming. It was a shock."
"You're a shock," he said, agitated, before taking a swig of his drink.
"I'm just so happy to see you," Firethorn said, his rich voice like warmed caramel. I found myself leaning toward him, and then relaxing against him when he decided to lie down at my side. "There's so much to tell, but Jaffa's right; you probably shouldn't get it all at once."
"How's your hostling? And father?" I asked, easing some of his raven hair over my shoulder. I ran my fingers through the rivulets of beaded plaits.
"They're well. They have a huge garden they work with the Colurastes and Lemuel."
"Fuck," I swore softly. "He must be through his Feybraiha now." I shivered, and felt Jaffa's reassuring arm on my shoulder before he caught himself and put it back around his glass.
"I'm sorry," he said roughly, not able to look at me but seeking support from his chesnari. "I can't just— I mean, yes, it's you, I know it is, but—"
"I died. I can't forget." I sent out a prayer of thanks to the inscrutable Noric. Without the drugs, I'd have been a sobbing wreck, or worse.
"Parallax and I buried you. Ashmael couldn't handle it. He fucking fell apart," he said loudly, his eyes wide and bright with remembered despair. "It broke him. He wasn't the same. He was a zombie. It was terrible to watch—"
"Jaffa," Firethorn interrupted sharply, trying to rein him in. He sat up and I rearranged my upper body on some cushions.
"It's okay. I've not really been allowed to grieve, except by myself," I said. "You two make it real."
"No telling of depressing news!" Feslavit said vehemently, striding over to us obviously on the warpath. "This is a celebration! Vaysh lives. He is more beautiful than summer roses. Don't you cut him open with tales of his old lover," he snapped. "I know I am not him. Never will be— Vaysh will tell you. Plenty of times. But I care for him anyway. I will protect him, from you if I must."
Jaffa blinked in surprise. Compassion settled on Firethorn's features like an eagle returning to its eyrie.
"You've suffered from your affections," he said, pity in his voice. "There is more to come. Vaysh will see Ashmael again, but it's going to be a ways off. I can't tell what kind of meeting it will be, only that it's inevitable."
"I'll what?" My heart pounded a fierce tattoo in my chest. "You're no fortune-teller. Do you have scrying beads? What can you possibly have seen about my future?" I asked, my voice rising with each rushed sentence.
"He has cards," Jaffa explained. "He's used them since before his Feybraiha. Cloudblaze has visions in dreams, why wouldn't Thorn have some of that ability?" He took a defensive stance next to Firethorn, who merely looked as though he wished he'd kept his mouth shut.
"I need another drink," I said weakly. "Tell me about some other hara, if you don't mind."
Jaffa was only too happy to forge boldly ahead, covering up the near-explosion between Feslavit and them. He spent a good while talking about the changes and constants of Castlegar. Arahal had quit visiting and Mabast had gone into a deep funk, finally going off to join Belvac and Abelard in Saltrock. Abelard had come back to visit a couple of times, the second occasion going on and on about a devastatingly beautiful, wild, scary and compelling as hell har named Calanthe.
"He's Uigenna! But Abelard said he seemed trustworthy enough. Apparently pretty remarkable in his recreational activities, as well."
"What'd Belvac think of that?" I knew Abelard better as he'd been my kinshar before we'd ridden to the sanctuary of Monarch and Kyrgian, but he and Belvac had seemed like mirrored, brooding, possessive hara.
"I suspect he joined in!"
"Don't be crass," Firethorn said reprovingly.
"I wasn't— I think it's the truth! Abelard's eyes lit up like fires when he talked about Cal— he had a bit of hero worship. He reckons we'll hear more about Cal, he's the kind of har who'll make a name for himself." He twisted one of his rust-coloured curls around his finger, released it, and began again with another spiral.
"What'd you think of riding the sedim?" I asked, tugging on a serving-hara's robe to get another refill. "Pretty amazing way to travel, isn't it?"
"Now I know why the hara at the stables loved it when Arahal visited. The sedim are so smart, and regal. The Otherlanes are impossible to describe, but you know what it's like," Firethorn said animatedly, but then his features grew more somber. "Vaysh," he said, the word sounding like a prayer. "Not tonight, but sometime, will you tell me what it was like, being in the beyond, out on the breath of the Creator?"
After a long pause, I nodded. "I'll tell you what I remember, now that I know I won't fall apart. There are some really beautiful walks to and through the forest, and we have plenty of winter clothing you can use. We should take a leisurely walk and I'll try to explain how it seemed," I said, lolling on my back. With the force of a cudgel, I realised I was pretty wasted and about to become an embarrassment. "I promise you I'll be a better host for you both. For now, though, I think I need to be poured into bed."
The air in the room changed; a chilling current swept in, preceding the har who appeared to be its originator. Firethorn's eyebrows raised and he wrinkled his nose. The expression was endearing and reminded me of how he'd looked when still a harling.
"What does Velaxis want?" he murmured.
"No idea," I sighed.
Velaxis' personality was so strong I didn't doubt that he could create his own weather. For all of that, he was exceedingly private; I felt I knew more about Thiede and his intents and purposes — about which I knew nearly nothing — than about the enigmatic har waltzing toward us. Velaxis: a kaleidoscope of subtlety; a bristling arsenal of brutal wit; sensuality— vital, compelling, and transient as a mirage. Respect for him was as natural as breathing, but I'd not trust to turn my back on him.
"Jaffa, Firethorn. A happy Natalia to you," Velaxis bloviated and they nodded their greetings. "Vaysh, I wondered if I might have a word? In private?"
"Certainly." I eased up to a full sitting position, determined not to slur and to keep my composure. "My rooms would probably be best. Thorn and Jaffa, I may not be back down tonight. Have fun, do." Firethorn discreetly helped steady my arm, getting up from the settee with me at the same time. "Were I you two, I'd mingle a bit; there's some intrigue here, like anywhere. A couple of the hara from Tollsend are particularly interesting. Maybe you can barter for a sketch from Noric, he's quite talented. Tall and thin with brown hair, unnerving golden eyes. Hard to miss."
"Thanks. I hope we'll see you again; the party's still going strong. But if not, we'll continue to get caught up tomorrow." Firethorn embraced me, and gave me a firm kiss on my cheek.
"I'll have another Banshee Wail for you," Jaffa said, grinning and clapping me on the arm.
"That's what those are called?" Velaxis raised an exquisitely arched eyebrow, snaking out his hand to snag Jaffa's glass and sniff at it. He blinked rapidly, and handed it back. "The mulled wine seems safe enough. Vaysh?"
"I've had enough for right now," I said solemnly.
Velaxis' cool expression evaluated me, then he headed for the corridor and I followed. I felt Feslavit's and Grimska's eyes on us as we headed up the wide, curved stairs to the upper levels, but I knew Thiede's assistant intimidated my appointed protector and he didn't say a word. The fire in my bedroom was still going, but I added a few sturdy logs to it and contrary to what I'd said, poured myself a small serving of dauthi. I settled into a chair, placing my boot-clad feet on the short Ottoman as Velaxis arranged his filmy, yet warm-looking robes and got comfortable in another chair across from me.
"You've been given the impossible," he said smoothly. "Not only are you a har, but you found favour so high with Thiede that he saved your spirit and re-made you."
I felt the stinging chastisement in his words; they struck and burned like nettles. I wanted nothing more than to slink into my bed, bury myself under the furs.
"The sun doesn't rise and set on Ashmael Aldebaran. And if you start talking human tripe about one true love, I swear by all things holy I'll scour out your heart myself. With my teeth."
"Why does that sound like foreplay?" I wished my self-censor hadn't wandered off somewhere between shooting up the tiger balm and my second glass of wine. The look of absolute surprise on Velaxis' face was worth the impudence, however. "Why do you care?" I went on, sinking deeper into my chair. "You dance for Thiede like everyone else. From your recent commentary, it's obvoius you're not here to offer to be a messenger for me, to convey anything to Ash, whom obviously you don't think much of."
A lazy, dangerous smirk eased onto his lips. His eyes glinted with mischief; it set me on edge far more than his usual stand-offishness.
"Dear Vaysh. Frigid, defensive, exquisite Vaysh. There is nothing obvious about me at all." His voice was a purr of smoke. "I could be a messenger; I could choose to bed Fate until he was crying out my name in ecstasy. I could, and do, keep secrets. From Thiede."
He sat back in his chair, dipped his finger in his wine and ran it around the delicate rim until a shimmering tone filled the room. When he put his finger into his mouth, his gaze held mine, strong as gravity's pull. To my shock, a faint stirring of arousal fluttered between my legs. Perhaps it showed on my face.
"I'm quite skilled in the arunic arts. I've no doubt I know what you want more than you know yourself. I don't say that to taunt you; aruna feeds us, and you seem like one starved. It doesn't have to be that way."
His voice had dropped, each word a warm trickle of wax, his own body an incense-scented taper. My mind recoiled; my traitorous ouana-lim began a hopeful retreat as my soume energies feebly asserted themselves. Velaxis was on me in a moment, a velvet whipcord of movement designed to prevent my cerebral qualities from getting the upper hand. He had the ringing chorus of dauthi and fading effects of the drugs on his side as well, but every action was calculated to be pleasurable, deft, and building up fires of passion I thought I no longer had.
"Don't speak," he cautioned me once we were in my bed, his naked body of purest marble poised over me like an angel. Delirious, I all but saw feathered wings unfurling from his shoulders. While his own expression was flushed but dispassionate, he said, "Your body has its own language. I can read the messages in your eyes."
I was compelled to watch him; he demanded it wordlessly. With lips, tongue and fingers, with breath tangy with cinnamon and mulled wine, he demonstrated his art on me, this cracked cup, this broken vessel. The tears came when he sank into me, though not from pain. I was famished, and my muscles, scarred but possessing some of their strength after all, milked nourishment from him. He rode deep; my seas weren't as dried up as I'd feared. We shared breath and I drank greedily of him, a strange mix of moonlit wind and greeny spike of holly. He gave and gave; he bore me up and with him, I soared until his crescendo pushed us to the point of rapture. To his credit, he also braced my fall. Dewy with sweat, the linens and furs on my bed a shambles, we tumbled down into each other's arms. Once my breathing had evened out, he traced the path of my lips with his thumb.
"We don't ever have to mention this happened," he said with a rare uncertainty, like an assassin whose hand has been stayed — even temporarily — by unexpected desire. "No doubt the vitality glowing in you will be remarked upon. Though maybe not to your face," he said knowingly.
A short laugh burbled in my chest and I pressed the palm of his hand to my lips. I covered the soft surface with kisses, and christened the tips of each finger with similar dry brushes.
"I didn't expect you to be like this," I murmured. "You're a rare gift—"
"I act of my own volition. Always," he said emphatically. "Unlike you, I belong to no one. In my own way, however, I see myself as your advocate. Just don't be ungrateful about your situation. It's highly unbecoming."
I started to say something, enough that the essence of Ashmael's name hovered there, and he silenced me.
"Enough. Thiede will have a Tigron, no matter what. It's no longer you, and as much as Ashmael desires the post, he's not chosen either. Knowing Thiede as I do, you can count on being there to care for the har Thiede selects after he's passed through the Aghama's fires. I know you know who he really is," he said, broking no protestation on my part. I wouldn't have tried to feign anything different. "You can warm to your new role, or you can close yourself off. You'll perform your duty either way. I would hope, after tonight, you'd choose the former, but such decisions are yours alone."
Though his essence still pulsed deep with me like a resonant heartbeat, I felt the cold encroaching. My pride kept me from tearing at him, at rolling him over, smothering him with the offering of my body, promising worlds and fidelity that weren't mine to give. He wouldn't have accepted, regardless. That knowledge allowed a delicate, frosty tendril to creep into my warmed spirit.
"You won't stay the night?" I asked as though there'd ever been any answer other than no.
Velaxis' look was of disappointed pity. "Why ask about things you don't truly wish for? I was flint for you, striking deep to kindle a flame. I'll know if you let it go out, but I won't judge."
With grace, tremendous efficiency and almost no time, he was dressed and on his way out of my rooms. "Good night," he said softly before he swept out, the sounds of the Natalia revelry punctuating my room until the door shut again.
I almost wished for a bruise, a memory, for there to have been roughness in our coupling. As he'd intimated, however, he'd known me more than I did myself. I'd been treated with the most supple of touches. Sleep wouldn't come for a while. With the bottle of dauthi at my feet, I curled up in a chair, staring at the dying flames, grinding the fine grit of Velaxis' proclamations between my teeth.
This post rating: adultish
Warnings: drug use, non-explicit rooning
Word Count: 3300
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 (historic); Vaysh/OC – this post, Vaysh/Velaxis
Summary: Being brought back from the dead doesn't mean happily ever after, especially if you're Vaysh. Life has its costs, and he pays dearly. An exploration of Vaysh's character in the years before and through Pellaz's transformation, and the burdens he endures, because he must.
It's Natalia, no longer Vaysh's favourite holday. Not a har to miss a party, he goes, but the night plays out far differently than he imagined. This post a bit shorter than some, but soon the plot will pick up. Continued from the prior post, here. As always, comments welcome and ruminated upon! I'll admit that my take on Velaxis has been gratefully influenced by the stunning writings of
camile_sinensis.Tyger! Tyger! burning bright,
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?
When the stars threw down their spears,
And watered heaven with their tears,
Did he smile his work to see?
Did he who made the lamb, make thee?
~ from "The Tyger," William Blake
* * * * *
"I'll be right down, I promise," I said cajolingly.
Feslavit gave me a dark, searching look. "You will not stay up here and get drunk alone," he declared, jerking a thumb at the door to my rooms. "I have broken it down before. I will not hesitate to do so again."
"I'll be down," I said, glaring right back at him. "And I'll be on my best behaviour. I just want to collect my thoughts. I'm ready to make some new memories," I tacked on, hoping his optimism for me would suck up that vastly untrue sentiment like a sponge.
He did, his features softening. "It is good your companions are here. I know you still have much to catch up on."
"We do. Ten minutes. If I'm not downstairs, you have my permission to kick in the door."
"You are beautiful," he said reverently.
"You're gorgeous and you know it," I said, moving toward my bathroom and shooing him away.
He had the decency to shut the door and the audacity to trust me. That took me by surprise. I'd only wanted the privacy to take care of a little business, namely getting out the drugs I'd bought during the summer and putting one of those crystals to use. Within a few moments I'd melted one of the crystals and shot it into my bloodstream, in between my big toe and second toe. The effect was nearly instantaneous, and wickedly strong. Yes, now I'd be able to cope with all of the carefree, drunk hara— thanks to the tiger balm, or some loose translation to that effect, I could be carefree, stoned, and drunk, too. Two shots of dauthi, and my nerves were limpid conveyors of calm.
I took a last look in the mirror and decided I was passable. Feslavit had demanded to do my hair, treating me like royalty, using wide heated irons to make loose waves and weaving in tiny azure ribbons. He'd wanted to dress me, too; I couldn't find it in myself to argue. In contrast with the feminine hairstyle, I found myself in skintight pants, my aubergine lace-up boots, a fitted shirt, unbuttoned to the waist, and Nordic-looking bronze armbands. In a fit of drug-propelled whimsy, I painted my lips bright red.
I strutted downstairs where the Natalia celebration was going on full swing. A glass of wine was put in my hand and I drank greedily. The transformation of the stone bulwark to a cheery, light- and foliage-filled chorus of inviting rooms was astonishing. I sensed my presence being sought out, and followed the summons. Unsurprisingly, I found I was in the doorway of one of the libraries, a blazing fire exuding warmth where Jaffa and Firethorn held court over the curious hara who'd been waiting for the party to badger them with questions.
"Ah! There you are! I was beginning to worry!" Firethorn's smile outshone even the huge candelabra hanging from the ceiling. Jaffa continued to keep me emotionally at arm's length; I didn't blame him for that at all.
"No worrying allowed. Even up here in this land of infernal cold hara can put together a fabulous party to chase away cheerless, bleak thoughts."
I gratefully accepted a refill on my wine but realised I needed to slow down or I'd be shunted off to my bed in a very undignified manner far too early. For all of the chemical reinforcements I felt I needed, I was pleased to see them. They were a part of my dead past, but they'd not been as inextricably linked to Ashmael like Parallax, or Vox and Polaris would have been.
"So!" I exclaimed, reclining on a wide, overstuffed chaise near the fire. "I expect a full report. Tell me what you've been up to, your adventures, the juiciest gossip from Castlegar. I'm ready to hear it now."
"You're certain?" Jaffa asked, nursing a lurid violet cocktail whose ingredients I couldn't begin to guess. "You've been running a bit hot and cold. I don't want you to pass out or go off into hiding again for a few days." He seemed to regard me like I was a freakish ghost, about to blow away or rattle chains at him at any moment.
"Thank you for your concern. I'd apologise for my behaviour, but I can't bring myself to do it," I said with a rueful smile. "I'd not been told you were coming. It was a shock."
"You're a shock," he said, agitated, before taking a swig of his drink.
"I'm just so happy to see you," Firethorn said, his rich voice like warmed caramel. I found myself leaning toward him, and then relaxing against him when he decided to lie down at my side. "There's so much to tell, but Jaffa's right; you probably shouldn't get it all at once."
"How's your hostling? And father?" I asked, easing some of his raven hair over my shoulder. I ran my fingers through the rivulets of beaded plaits.
"They're well. They have a huge garden they work with the Colurastes and Lemuel."
"Fuck," I swore softly. "He must be through his Feybraiha now." I shivered, and felt Jaffa's reassuring arm on my shoulder before he caught himself and put it back around his glass.
"I'm sorry," he said roughly, not able to look at me but seeking support from his chesnari. "I can't just— I mean, yes, it's you, I know it is, but—"
"I died. I can't forget." I sent out a prayer of thanks to the inscrutable Noric. Without the drugs, I'd have been a sobbing wreck, or worse.
"Parallax and I buried you. Ashmael couldn't handle it. He fucking fell apart," he said loudly, his eyes wide and bright with remembered despair. "It broke him. He wasn't the same. He was a zombie. It was terrible to watch—"
"Jaffa," Firethorn interrupted sharply, trying to rein him in. He sat up and I rearranged my upper body on some cushions.
"It's okay. I've not really been allowed to grieve, except by myself," I said. "You two make it real."
"No telling of depressing news!" Feslavit said vehemently, striding over to us obviously on the warpath. "This is a celebration! Vaysh lives. He is more beautiful than summer roses. Don't you cut him open with tales of his old lover," he snapped. "I know I am not him. Never will be— Vaysh will tell you. Plenty of times. But I care for him anyway. I will protect him, from you if I must."
Jaffa blinked in surprise. Compassion settled on Firethorn's features like an eagle returning to its eyrie.
"You've suffered from your affections," he said, pity in his voice. "There is more to come. Vaysh will see Ashmael again, but it's going to be a ways off. I can't tell what kind of meeting it will be, only that it's inevitable."
"I'll what?" My heart pounded a fierce tattoo in my chest. "You're no fortune-teller. Do you have scrying beads? What can you possibly have seen about my future?" I asked, my voice rising with each rushed sentence.
"He has cards," Jaffa explained. "He's used them since before his Feybraiha. Cloudblaze has visions in dreams, why wouldn't Thorn have some of that ability?" He took a defensive stance next to Firethorn, who merely looked as though he wished he'd kept his mouth shut.
"I need another drink," I said weakly. "Tell me about some other hara, if you don't mind."
Jaffa was only too happy to forge boldly ahead, covering up the near-explosion between Feslavit and them. He spent a good while talking about the changes and constants of Castlegar. Arahal had quit visiting and Mabast had gone into a deep funk, finally going off to join Belvac and Abelard in Saltrock. Abelard had come back to visit a couple of times, the second occasion going on and on about a devastatingly beautiful, wild, scary and compelling as hell har named Calanthe.
"He's Uigenna! But Abelard said he seemed trustworthy enough. Apparently pretty remarkable in his recreational activities, as well."
"What'd Belvac think of that?" I knew Abelard better as he'd been my kinshar before we'd ridden to the sanctuary of Monarch and Kyrgian, but he and Belvac had seemed like mirrored, brooding, possessive hara.
"I suspect he joined in!"
"Don't be crass," Firethorn said reprovingly.
"I wasn't— I think it's the truth! Abelard's eyes lit up like fires when he talked about Cal— he had a bit of hero worship. He reckons we'll hear more about Cal, he's the kind of har who'll make a name for himself." He twisted one of his rust-coloured curls around his finger, released it, and began again with another spiral.
"What'd you think of riding the sedim?" I asked, tugging on a serving-hara's robe to get another refill. "Pretty amazing way to travel, isn't it?"
"Now I know why the hara at the stables loved it when Arahal visited. The sedim are so smart, and regal. The Otherlanes are impossible to describe, but you know what it's like," Firethorn said animatedly, but then his features grew more somber. "Vaysh," he said, the word sounding like a prayer. "Not tonight, but sometime, will you tell me what it was like, being in the beyond, out on the breath of the Creator?"
After a long pause, I nodded. "I'll tell you what I remember, now that I know I won't fall apart. There are some really beautiful walks to and through the forest, and we have plenty of winter clothing you can use. We should take a leisurely walk and I'll try to explain how it seemed," I said, lolling on my back. With the force of a cudgel, I realised I was pretty wasted and about to become an embarrassment. "I promise you I'll be a better host for you both. For now, though, I think I need to be poured into bed."
The air in the room changed; a chilling current swept in, preceding the har who appeared to be its originator. Firethorn's eyebrows raised and he wrinkled his nose. The expression was endearing and reminded me of how he'd looked when still a harling.
"What does Velaxis want?" he murmured.
"No idea," I sighed.
Velaxis' personality was so strong I didn't doubt that he could create his own weather. For all of that, he was exceedingly private; I felt I knew more about Thiede and his intents and purposes — about which I knew nearly nothing — than about the enigmatic har waltzing toward us. Velaxis: a kaleidoscope of subtlety; a bristling arsenal of brutal wit; sensuality— vital, compelling, and transient as a mirage. Respect for him was as natural as breathing, but I'd not trust to turn my back on him.
"Jaffa, Firethorn. A happy Natalia to you," Velaxis bloviated and they nodded their greetings. "Vaysh, I wondered if I might have a word? In private?"
"Certainly." I eased up to a full sitting position, determined not to slur and to keep my composure. "My rooms would probably be best. Thorn and Jaffa, I may not be back down tonight. Have fun, do." Firethorn discreetly helped steady my arm, getting up from the settee with me at the same time. "Were I you two, I'd mingle a bit; there's some intrigue here, like anywhere. A couple of the hara from Tollsend are particularly interesting. Maybe you can barter for a sketch from Noric, he's quite talented. Tall and thin with brown hair, unnerving golden eyes. Hard to miss."
"Thanks. I hope we'll see you again; the party's still going strong. But if not, we'll continue to get caught up tomorrow." Firethorn embraced me, and gave me a firm kiss on my cheek.
"I'll have another Banshee Wail for you," Jaffa said, grinning and clapping me on the arm.
"That's what those are called?" Velaxis raised an exquisitely arched eyebrow, snaking out his hand to snag Jaffa's glass and sniff at it. He blinked rapidly, and handed it back. "The mulled wine seems safe enough. Vaysh?"
"I've had enough for right now," I said solemnly.
Velaxis' cool expression evaluated me, then he headed for the corridor and I followed. I felt Feslavit's and Grimska's eyes on us as we headed up the wide, curved stairs to the upper levels, but I knew Thiede's assistant intimidated my appointed protector and he didn't say a word. The fire in my bedroom was still going, but I added a few sturdy logs to it and contrary to what I'd said, poured myself a small serving of dauthi. I settled into a chair, placing my boot-clad feet on the short Ottoman as Velaxis arranged his filmy, yet warm-looking robes and got comfortable in another chair across from me.
"You've been given the impossible," he said smoothly. "Not only are you a har, but you found favour so high with Thiede that he saved your spirit and re-made you."
I felt the stinging chastisement in his words; they struck and burned like nettles. I wanted nothing more than to slink into my bed, bury myself under the furs.
"The sun doesn't rise and set on Ashmael Aldebaran. And if you start talking human tripe about one true love, I swear by all things holy I'll scour out your heart myself. With my teeth."
"Why does that sound like foreplay?" I wished my self-censor hadn't wandered off somewhere between shooting up the tiger balm and my second glass of wine. The look of absolute surprise on Velaxis' face was worth the impudence, however. "Why do you care?" I went on, sinking deeper into my chair. "You dance for Thiede like everyone else. From your recent commentary, it's obvoius you're not here to offer to be a messenger for me, to convey anything to Ash, whom obviously you don't think much of."
A lazy, dangerous smirk eased onto his lips. His eyes glinted with mischief; it set me on edge far more than his usual stand-offishness.
"Dear Vaysh. Frigid, defensive, exquisite Vaysh. There is nothing obvious about me at all." His voice was a purr of smoke. "I could be a messenger; I could choose to bed Fate until he was crying out my name in ecstasy. I could, and do, keep secrets. From Thiede."
He sat back in his chair, dipped his finger in his wine and ran it around the delicate rim until a shimmering tone filled the room. When he put his finger into his mouth, his gaze held mine, strong as gravity's pull. To my shock, a faint stirring of arousal fluttered between my legs. Perhaps it showed on my face.
"I'm quite skilled in the arunic arts. I've no doubt I know what you want more than you know yourself. I don't say that to taunt you; aruna feeds us, and you seem like one starved. It doesn't have to be that way."
His voice had dropped, each word a warm trickle of wax, his own body an incense-scented taper. My mind recoiled; my traitorous ouana-lim began a hopeful retreat as my soume energies feebly asserted themselves. Velaxis was on me in a moment, a velvet whipcord of movement designed to prevent my cerebral qualities from getting the upper hand. He had the ringing chorus of dauthi and fading effects of the drugs on his side as well, but every action was calculated to be pleasurable, deft, and building up fires of passion I thought I no longer had.
"Don't speak," he cautioned me once we were in my bed, his naked body of purest marble poised over me like an angel. Delirious, I all but saw feathered wings unfurling from his shoulders. While his own expression was flushed but dispassionate, he said, "Your body has its own language. I can read the messages in your eyes."
I was compelled to watch him; he demanded it wordlessly. With lips, tongue and fingers, with breath tangy with cinnamon and mulled wine, he demonstrated his art on me, this cracked cup, this broken vessel. The tears came when he sank into me, though not from pain. I was famished, and my muscles, scarred but possessing some of their strength after all, milked nourishment from him. He rode deep; my seas weren't as dried up as I'd feared. We shared breath and I drank greedily of him, a strange mix of moonlit wind and greeny spike of holly. He gave and gave; he bore me up and with him, I soared until his crescendo pushed us to the point of rapture. To his credit, he also braced my fall. Dewy with sweat, the linens and furs on my bed a shambles, we tumbled down into each other's arms. Once my breathing had evened out, he traced the path of my lips with his thumb.
"We don't ever have to mention this happened," he said with a rare uncertainty, like an assassin whose hand has been stayed — even temporarily — by unexpected desire. "No doubt the vitality glowing in you will be remarked upon. Though maybe not to your face," he said knowingly.
A short laugh burbled in my chest and I pressed the palm of his hand to my lips. I covered the soft surface with kisses, and christened the tips of each finger with similar dry brushes.
"I didn't expect you to be like this," I murmured. "You're a rare gift—"
"I act of my own volition. Always," he said emphatically. "Unlike you, I belong to no one. In my own way, however, I see myself as your advocate. Just don't be ungrateful about your situation. It's highly unbecoming."
I started to say something, enough that the essence of Ashmael's name hovered there, and he silenced me.
"Enough. Thiede will have a Tigron, no matter what. It's no longer you, and as much as Ashmael desires the post, he's not chosen either. Knowing Thiede as I do, you can count on being there to care for the har Thiede selects after he's passed through the Aghama's fires. I know you know who he really is," he said, broking no protestation on my part. I wouldn't have tried to feign anything different. "You can warm to your new role, or you can close yourself off. You'll perform your duty either way. I would hope, after tonight, you'd choose the former, but such decisions are yours alone."
Though his essence still pulsed deep with me like a resonant heartbeat, I felt the cold encroaching. My pride kept me from tearing at him, at rolling him over, smothering him with the offering of my body, promising worlds and fidelity that weren't mine to give. He wouldn't have accepted, regardless. That knowledge allowed a delicate, frosty tendril to creep into my warmed spirit.
"You won't stay the night?" I asked as though there'd ever been any answer other than no.
Velaxis' look was of disappointed pity. "Why ask about things you don't truly wish for? I was flint for you, striking deep to kindle a flame. I'll know if you let it go out, but I won't judge."
With grace, tremendous efficiency and almost no time, he was dressed and on his way out of my rooms. "Good night," he said softly before he swept out, the sounds of the Natalia revelry punctuating my room until the door shut again.
I almost wished for a bruise, a memory, for there to have been roughness in our coupling. As he'd intimated, however, he'd known me more than I did myself. I'd been treated with the most supple of touches. Sleep wouldn't come for a while. With the bottle of dauthi at my feet, I curled up in a chair, staring at the dying flames, grinding the fine grit of Velaxis' proclamations between my teeth.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2008-03-31 03:37 am (UTC)You've got me reading angst, damn you. I'm a happy-ending whore -- I'm not strong enough for this! :p
He rode deep; my seas weren't as dried up as I'd feared.
;kljkpophjklhkpohk;hhhppkhk;l
:waits not-so-patiently for the next installment:
(no subject)
Date: 2008-03-31 07:20 pm (UTC)You're strong enough. I promise. But it is pretty relentlessly angsty; it's how he is. It's how he was transfigured, really.
I love your icon. :sigh:
Next installment, hopefully same time next week. The hara are in a sauna right now, and it's not dark. In fact, the next couple won't be too bad, but the Angst Rating will ratchet back up. It's the
funburden of writing about a tragic figure. ::kisses::(no subject)
Date: 2008-03-31 07:38 pm (UTC)Yeah, but in the books it's a footnote of sorts -- you're breathing life into it and drawing us into your interpretations of characters and events. And it feels in-step with canon, which makes it heartwrenching.
Beautiful, but heartwrenching.
The hara are in a sauna right now, and it's not dark. In fact, the next couple won't be too bad, but the Angst Rating will ratchet back up.
So you sweeten things up and then really sock it to us later. Oh, I see how you work. :p
I love your icon. :sigh:
I'm glad you like it. I made it for you, really. :)
(no subject)
Date: 2008-03-31 08:08 pm (UTC)I'm so glad to hear that!!! This one has been a bit rougher to get 'in the groove' of, both because it's so angst-driven from the get-go, but also because I wasn't sure how many years of Vaysh's to cover before Pellaz comes along. Now I know. :)
Yep; can't have relentless angst. But it does hit harder when you get some intermediate time of relative joy. Or at least some pleasant experiences. I'll hold you through it, babe.
I'll be taking the icon and crediting, with gratitude!!! I've got to make an adult Firethorn icon. The mental image of him with Jaffa... yum. I love working with original characters, lol!
(no subject)
Date: 2008-03-31 06:06 pm (UTC)Also I love your pic of Vaysh. It's really just like I imagine him.
(no subject)
Date: 2008-03-31 08:05 pm (UTC)Isn't Bartek beautiful?? ::happy sigh:: But so is Vaysh. ;) And I think I should now make an icon for Firethorn, now that he's all grown up and beautiful in his own right. ;)
The Velaxis Fan Club Writes...
Date: 2008-03-31 10:05 pm (UTC)Wonderful! (and now I have this mental image of him with a little thunder-and-lightning storm following him around over his head! :-)
Re: The Velaxis Fan Club Writes...
Date: 2008-04-01 02:07 am (UTC)LOLOL!! Sounds like of like some of the anime characters with the various symbols around their head. ;) I was actually thinking of Mt. Rainier and how it's so massive it literally does create its own weather. Velaxis is definitely a force to be reckoned with. So glad that the Fan Club approves!! ♥
(no subject)
Date: 2008-04-02 06:10 am (UTC)Velaxis' personality was so strong I didn't doubt that he could create his own weather. Velaxis: a kaleidoscope of subtlety; a bristling arsenal of brutal wit; sensuality— vital, compelling, and transient as a mirage.
"Why does that sound like foreplay?" (I love that your characters are smart.)
"Dear Vaysh. Frigid, defensive, exquisite Vaysh. There is nothing obvious about me at all." His voice was a purr of smoke. "I could be a messenger; I could choose to bed Fate until he was crying out my name in ecstasy. I could, and do, keep secrets. From Thiede."
this cracked cup, this broken vessel.
I almost wished for a bruise, a memory, for there to have been roughness in our coupling
grinding the fine grit of Velaxis' proclamations between my teeth.
And I liked the oblique description of Cal.
All good stuff.
(no subject)
Date: 2008-04-03 03:06 pm (UTC)Had to mention Cal, because Pellaz is coming along soon, of course. It just thrills me to my core that any of my phrases are quote-back-able to you!! I've decided to print out 'Oromedon's Lessons' so I can revisit it whenever I wish; I'm listening to The Persian Boy again as a book on tape and my heart just weeps for Bagoas. I love him so much!! It's good to have Vaysh's head and heart to get back into when I get overwhelmed by Bagoas and start feeling mawkish. ;) Vaysh loves too, of course, though he's relentlessly beaten by it.
Love your icon! I need to buy that book as a gift to myself. :)
(no subject)
Date: 2008-04-03 11:17 pm (UTC)I have the book and there are a number of pics in it I'd like to make into icons. But that would require me to take time to scan them and futz with Adobe photoshop, something I'm not adept at. So, I'm not.
Glad you want to revisit O's Lessons. Gives me a warm fuzzy. *g*
(no subject)
Date: 2008-04-04 03:28 pm (UTC)I'm going to treat myself to that book after I finish Down the Whispering Well. Once I get it, or if you want to scan a couple of pictures and tell me what you'd like, I'm decent with Photoshop and love playing with it. I'd be THRILLED to make you some icons as gifts of gratitude for getting to know you, and your effusive commentary to my first Wraeththu fanfic.
(no subject)
Date: 2008-04-05 03:10 am (UTC)I´m such a mad Vaysh fan so this one is candy cotton and warm caramel for me *lol*...
I LOVE Vaysh stories and this one is written really beautifully.
By the way you inspired me on new scents for Wraeththu perfumes as we´ve started a thread on that at the forum of Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab who design and sell scented oils (I´ve posted this in here a couple of days ago, too), hoping they´ll do a line on that :-)
I adore the way you picture the characters and now Vaysh becomes even more precious to me (and even more yummy as well) ;-).
Please go on soon *begging on my knees*... I can´t wait for more.
(no subject)
Date: 2008-04-05 09:52 pm (UTC)Anyway, I'm thrilled to have a Vaysh fan in particular reading this; I've posted the next part today, and I hope you enjoy it as well. Vaysh is tragic, and forever battling demons. :sigh:
(no subject)
Date: 2008-04-23 06:34 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-04-24 03:25 am (UTC)