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Post by Gelquie on Oct 13, 2014 19:54:51 GMT -5
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Post by Gelquie on Oct 13, 2014 19:58:26 GMT -5
The Arrival(Canon story Timeframe: Approximately 3 years before the events of Medieval Wordcount: 1.4K words) It was a quiet night in Medieville, with no sound disturbing the tranquility except for the sound of the wind whistling through the air and the leaves rustling in the trees before falling. The house itself was eerily quiet, with the except of Clare's soft breathing as she slept. She had had a long day that day, with her constantly at work trying to cut up what meat she could get and dealing with demanding farmers, insisting on selling her cows that were too sickly to butcher for the prices they demanded. She was finally glad to get some rest, and rest she so did.
A distant knock slowly stirred her from her sleep, and she opened her eyes blearily. Another knock. Clare groaned, wondering who could be at the door at this time of night. She got to her feet and began to make her way closer to the front door, all the while hearing another knock.
”...Auntie?” came a weak voice from the other side of the door.
Auntie... Auntie.
She was here.
Clare rushed for the door and swung it open, revealing a small, thin form before her. It was almost hard for Clare to recognize her; it had been a few years since the girl came to Medieval, and she had hit puberty since then. And though the girl was always somewhat serious, there was a look in her eyes that did not have the gleam of childhood that Clare so recognized. But she knew her; it was still her all the same.
The girl tried to smile. “Hi Auntie.”
Clare didn't hesitate before bringing the girl into a hug. “Elin... Thank 'Woo you made it.”
Clare felt Elin draw her arms around her, but she noticed how much weaker and thinner they were. Looking down at Elin's face nestled against her chest, she suddenly realized that she was thinner than she thought... Too thin. Especially for a growing girl.
“Come on,” Clare said quickly. “Let's get you inside.” With that, she gently pulled Elin inside and shut the door behind her.
Elin seemed to be grateful to be indoors. “Auntie... Thanks for letting me come.” Then a hint of an apology appeared on her face. “I woke you up, didn't I?”
“You did, but don't worry, it's worth it. Now dear, when was the last time you've eaten?”
“I... I ran out of rations yesterday,” she said quietly. “It's a long trip and--”
“Not another word,” Clare said before running into the kitchen. She quickly came back with a quarter loaf of bread, which she immediately handed to Elin. “I know it's not much, but it'll have to do until I can get something better.”
Elin didn't hesitate, and she tore off a piece of bread with her teeth before Clare could finish. Elin continued to eat, her eyes focused entirely on the bread as if it were the most important thing in the world.
Maybe it is, Clare thought to herself as she returned to the kitchen.
Any evidence of fatigue in her body was overshadowed by her concern for Elin. Clare sometimes wondered what kind of state her niece would be in when she showed up, but she was more concerned about Elin making it at all. Her father must have insisted on having Elin recite the directions over and over again, but even if she knew the way, the famine took most of her supplies. It was risky enough sending her over to Medieville, but one that they hoped would be worth it after what had happened.
After what happened... Clare cast a glance from the door of the kitchen, studying her as Elin sat down. Most of the emotions on Elin's face were obscured with her chewing of food, but she could see the fatigue in her eyes. She suspected that this wasn't just the physical fatigue from traveling during a famine, but a more emotional one as well, though her face did not seem to be wet from tears.
But Clare bit her lip and kept herself from asking. Elin had only just arrived; it wasn't the time to ask her about that, not when she was more concerned with food and rest than anything else. Unless Elin brought it up herself, but if not, Clare decided to wait until Elin was in a bit better shape.
Clare sighed as she scrounged something together. She didn't have much herself; the famine took a bit of a toll on her business as well, and then there was the competition from other butchers. But from the sounds of the letter Phillip sent her, she seemed to be in much better shape than the farmers in Kine, including his family. Better enough shape that Clare could maybe feed one other person. She'd have to make some sacrifices, but... The sacrifice was worth saving what they could.
Soon, she had something prepared which she quickly put in front of Elin. But eventually, Elin slowed down her pace in eating, and found that she wasn't able to finish.
“Dear, you need to build your strength up again,” Clare urged.
“I know,” Elin said. “It's... just hard. After not eating for so long, I...”
Elin grimaced. “And... And I can't help but wonder how the others are doing. If they're okay, or if you're going to get a letter finding out that someone else...” she trailed off and looked away.
Clare reached across the table and put her hand over Elin's. “I know. But I think they'll do better. The plan was to have more food for each of us. Well, except me, but that's okay because I'll be fine. And summer's over, so it shouldn't be as hot, and they'll have at least some harvest this season, right? They should be in better shape now.”
Elin only nodded slowly. “I know. I just... I can't help but feel bad leaving them behind.”
Clare smiled sympathetically. “I know. But it's not forever, unless you want to stay longer. The Famine certainly won't last forever. It'll get better from here, I'm sure of it.”
Elin said nothing. She merely stewed on the words, her eyelids slowly drooping.
“...I'll save the rest of the food for tomorrow,” Clare said, getting up from her chair. “You'd better get to bed.”
Elin nodded and slowly rose to her feet. She slowly looked around the room, as if trying to find a place to sleep.
“I put a cot in that room over there for you,” Clare said. “Here. I'll take you over.”
Putting one of Elin's arms over her shoulder, Clare helped the young girl to the cot. It didn't take long for Elin to close her eyes once her head hit the pillow, and she fell asleep, not even bothering to tuck herself in under the thin blanket. Clare carefully pulled the blanket from under Elin so she could place it over the young teenager.
“It'll get better,” Clare said, giving her a little peck on the forehead. “I promise. For now... I'm just happy you made it.”
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Post by Gelquie on Oct 13, 2014 20:02:12 GMT -5
Just a Dream(AU story (because I can't make this fit in canon) 'Timeframe': Directly after the Bloody Coronation, same day Wordcount: ~1.4K words) ((Death themes present)) Elin slowly opened her eyes, blinking as she tried to get a view of the scene. Around her were stone walls, of sorts. They looked like the ones found in the Keep, and she vaguely remembered them from earlier, when she hobbled into the room into one of the beds. There were people helping her there, ensuring that she was comfortable, looking worried. She vaguely remembered waving them off before going to sleep. All she needed was rest, really.
What seemed particularly strange though was that the throbbing pain in her head was gone. Not diminished, as what usually happened after a nap like this after falling ill. Just... gone. She put a hand up to her forehead to rub it, but gave pause when she realized that her hand didn't look quite right.
She rose from where she lay, only to find that it was much easier to sit up now. A lot easier. She brought her hand down to eye level and was astonished to find that she was a lot more translucent and... blue. Almost as if she was otherworldly.
What was going on? Was this the work of a healer? Some strange experimental potion to try to cure what ailed her? Confused, Elin tried to get up... And get up she did. Very quickly, in fact. Her feet didn't even touch the ground. Frowning, she looked beneath her...
And found herself staring at her body.
Blinking, Elin floated down again, facing herself as she went to put her hand on her shoulder.
“Hey... A-are you--?” she didn't finish her sentence out of the shock that came from Elin's hand phasing right through her body's shoulder. It didn't seem to move in response... Or do anything in response... Increasingly concerned, Elin moved her hand to take a pulse only to have her fingers phase through her body's neck. Instead, she bit her lip and watched her body's chest, looking for its rise and fall and listening for any signs of breathing.
She watched herself for an entire minute, but to Elin, it felt like a lifetime. Until Elin had to finally admit something that would have chilled her to the bone if she had any.
She wasn't breathing. There were no signs of life.
...No... No, it can't be, Elin thought to herself, jolting back into and upwards position. This... This has to be a mistake! Ghosts don't exist... She knew that very well. If ghosts exists, she would've seen more ghosts. Especially... No. Ghosts didn't exist. This didn't make sense. This didn't make sense. This was just a dream. A nightmare.
...A nightmare, Elin thought to herself. She nodded. That was the only thing that made sense. After all that happened at the coronation, with her worried about everyone dying, or herself dying in the process, it made sense that it'd be on her mind. Enough that she was dreaming about it now, in the few moments where she could rest. She nodded to herself again, considerably calmer now.
It's okay Elin, it's okay, she thought to herself again. We're in a nightmare. Except it's not one now, cause I know we're in a dream now. Maybe I can wake myself up...
She tried for a moment to will the dream to end, to no avail. She sighed.
Alright. Fine. It won't end yet. That's fine. But this dream will go my way.
With that, Elin rose from her spot and began floating away, not bothering to look back at her dreamed corpse. She was about to open the door, only to find that her hand had phased through the door handle. Tried though she might, she couldn't manage to grasp it. She frowned. There had to be another way... Elin moved to lean on the door only to find herself unable to interact with the door too. And so by chance, she phased through the door and wound up on the other side of the hallway.
...Alright, that works too, she thought. With that, she continued on. She thought about phasing through the walls some more until she got outside, but a part of her mind lingered with a worry that if she did that, she might just wind up in a famine-related dream again. It wasn't worth dealing with that again. Better to avoid it as long as she could help it. Well, maybe she could find some fun indoors in the dream anyway. Hmm, what could...? Elin glanced at the floor and smirked before diving down into it.
There was no gravity aiding her descent and no wind flying in her face, but Elin had a brief moment of fun anyway, diving down through the many floors of the castle. There were a lot of them... She couldn't remember if the castle actually had this many floors or if it was a dream conjuring up this many. She shook the thought out of her head. She didn't care right now. She wasn't going to try to make sense of a silly dream. If she was going to be unconscious and stuck in her dream, she may as well try to have fun.
A brief yelp made Elin pause as she phased through another floor, and she looked up. In spite of her telling herself to keep going, she couldn't deny that she was curious. Plus, maybe it'd make the dream more interesting. So she floated back up, her head sticking up through the floor. Once she did, she caught sight of what looked like a healer, who had just dropped an entire basket worth of potions and goods, although they appeared to be mostly unharmed. Knowing that this was just a dream, and that she didn't actually terrify a real healer, she wasn't bothered by this, and so she rose through the floor again.
“It's okay; I'm not going to hurt you--”
Elin's presence did nothing to make the healer feel any better, and the healer screamed.
“You're.... You're that girl...” the healer said, looking horrified.
Elin blinked, not recognizing the healer. Then again, she supposed this was just a dream; there must be some dream-reason for the healer to know who she was. She supposed it couldn't hurt to ask.
“You know me?” Elin asked, finding that her voice now had an ethereal timbre to it. “How do you know who I am?”
The healer only shook their head, backing away. “They... They took you in... Asked me where beds are, and, oh... Oh 'Woo! Not another one!” The Healer turned around and began running in the other direction.
“Wait!” Elin cried. “It's okay; I really won't hurt you, and I'm not really--!”
But the Healer kept running, heading straight for the stairs. Elin followed for a short time before she stopped herself and sighed. No. She was tired of death as it is; she wasn't going to let it crop up in her dreams anymore. Or at least, not in this one. When she woke up, it wouldn't matter what happened with the healer in her dream anyway.
She looked to the walls and sighed. As much as she didn't want to risk going outside... Well, she wasn't going to get much better luck inside the castle. Maybe she'd be wrong about the outside turning into a famine-related dream. She instinctively took a breath—one that she quickly learned did nothing—and phased through the walls, passing through the various rooms and corridors until she saw the light of the sun shining in the sky.
Elin blinked. To her surprise, she found that the dream hadn't changed dramatically. She found herself on a cliffside just outside the castle, overlooking Medieville. Even in her dream, it was a gorgeous view. A little too detailed though, really... Elin shook her head. Maybe her fatigue was making her more creative. After all, she was certain that she had never seen that building before. The one with the unrepaired roof or the... Wait, no, that was Aldrich's house. Still though, it was her fatigue making this dream seem more real, she was sure of it. Tearing her eyes from the city below, she looked to her right and left, only to find herself near the edge of the courtyard. Elin floated behind one of the pillars before peering into the courtyard.
It was almost just like the state of the battlefield before they had gone inside, and the battle had since stopped. There was still blood, and numerous bodies littered the courtyard, although a good number of them had been taken away, or were in the process of being taken away. Well, it was better than before, but Elin hated to see it. Besides, this was her dream. She didn't want to see dead bodies. But she couldn't will the dream away. And in any case, the sight of one person distracted her.
It was Xavier, resting on a piece of fallen debris that scattered the courtyard, looking away from the carnage and up at one of the windows. He still wore the bruises that Duval had given him earlier and he looked exhausted, but he seemed otherwise okay. Elin let out a sigh of relief in spite of herself before remembering that this was a dream. But at least he was okay in her dream too. She wanted to rush up to him, but she stopped herself. Dream though this may have been, seeing the Healer's horrified face was bad enough. The last thing she wanted was to see that face upon Xavier, dream or no. No need to make this dream even more nightmarish. And so she stayed hidden, fighting every urge to show herself.
And near him, there were other Shadows, although Aldrich and Babewyn seemed to be missing; she hoped they were merely inside, talking to Maia. There were a few she did see, though. There was Tony, holding up his strange looking “eye phone”, muttering something about how “this would be great on Youtube”, whatever that meant. Clarissa was talking to Alain about Briar about her recent apparent freedom while Arthur skulked nearby, silent and looking troubled.
At least they were alright. Elin didn't want to have a dream where all of them were dead either. This dream was bad enough already. She wondered how long it would last. ...Probably a while if her exhaustion was anything to go by. Best she could do was make the most of it. Although that was hard if the others were to be horrified upon seeing her. The dream forms probably thought they were real. She tried to think of a way to talk to them without revealing herself. ...She also knew just how hard that would be. Unless the dream decided to spontaneously make her alive again. She looked down at herself to make sure. ...Nope. Still a ghost. She'd have to be more creative. She began to phase into the wall before peering out, just close enough to hear snippets of conversation, be it from Shadows or other people.
”At least she's alright now. But we have to discuss...”
”Oh Gordon, thank goodness...”
”So they didn't find you in the kitchen at all?”
”...She's not back yet.”
Elin jumped at Xavier's voice, and turned slightly to see him speaking to Ilsa as he looked up at the castle.
“Elin's not back. She didn't come with...” Xavier gulped. “What... What if she's--?”
Ilsa put a hand on Xavier's shoulder. “It'll be okay Xavier. We'll find her.”
Elin closed her eyes and drew back a bit so that she wouldn't be visible. What sort of cruel joke was this dream playing? If anything, she should just fly off to other parts Medieville or into another part of the dream and leave this whole facade that Lord 'Woo bestowed upon her behind. But against her better judgment, and perhaps because of an irrational concern for the dream form of Xavier, she didn't fly off. Maybe if she could find a way to get into the picture without terrifying anyone, she could salvage something of this dream. But 'Woo, I'd rather you wake me up soon, she thought.
Arthur looked over and gave Xavier and Ilsa a look, seeming to overhear their conversation. Although he still looked troubled and shaken from what happened earlier, he sighed and walked over to them.
“I, uh,” Arthur spoke up, and Ilsa turned around to look at him. Arthur coughed, as it deciding to get right to the point. “About Elin...” Now Xavier turned his head as well, giving a look of recognition for the man he jailed. Arthur continued, “While we were in the castle, she, uh... she started to feel faint,” he said. “We took her into a bedroom on the upper level. A-a safe one. She should be sleeping.”
Xavier immediately shot to his feet, his face mixed with both relief and worry. “Could... Could you take me there?”
Elin's eyes went wide. No. If he went up there... This dream was quickly becoming more and more nightmarish. And there was enough death and worry awaiting her for when she woke up; she didn't need more in her dreams.
As Elin pondered her dilemma, Arthur seemed to be hesitating, his eyes darting to the infirmary and then a group of knights before looking up at the castle again. Biting his lip, he nodded at Xavier. “Yeah. Yeah, I can.” He sounded weak and weary, but willing. Wordlessly, they turned around and began making their way to the castle.
Elin's absence of a heart ached as she watched them go. Even though she knew they were constructs of her dream, and that this wasn't really happening, this was not something she wanted to happen even in her dreams. She'd already had enough dreams bothering her. Great 'Woo, why? Why couldn't you just have given me a dream about Kine? At least I'm used to that!
Elin took a moment to think to herself, since it would be a while before they reached the room. ...Unless her dream decided to speed things up. In which case she had to think fast. As much as she wanted to leave the place, or rather, leave the dream entirely, there was still a part of her that wanted to help comfort them, even in her dream constructs. Maybe she could convince them that this was just a dream, and to just enjoy the time they had before she woke up. And besides, if she did that, and she managed to get them to believe her... It'd be worth it to spend more time with Xavier, even if it was only a dream version of himself. And then, when she woke up... Then she'd worry about finding him, and making sure that he's alright...
With this thought in mind, Elin floated into the Keep and up through the halls again. But she quickly realized that she couldn't find the room where this whole dream had started. She had paid no attention to where she was going, but even if she had, would it have mattered in a dream? She went up a few levels first before trying to phase through a few walls, but it took her a long time to find it. And when she did find it...
She didn't get there before Arthur opened the door for Xavier and Ilsa. Xavier immediately rushed to the side of Elin's corpse, and Elin took in a sharp non-existent intake of breath... One that caught the attention of Ilsa and Arthur.
Oh dear... Elin did not mean to catch their attention this quickly. Hopefully, she'd wake up right about now...
She didn't. Arthur had a horrified look on his face, while Ilsa wore a similar work as she rubbed her head, as if unable to believe what she was seeing.
“A-are you...?” Arthur stammered out. “Th-this isn't...”
“Elin?” Xavier voice cut through, and all eyes turned to him, the living watching him with bated breath as Xavier shook her shoulder. When the body of Elin didn't respond, he tried checking for her pulse. But there was a look on his face that showed that he already suspected what had happened. Elin grimaced. He didn't need to see this. But before she could float any further, he looked visibly distressed.
“No... No, Elin, NO!”
Ilsa's and Arthur's faces fell as the news was confirmed, Ilsa looking distraught, Arthur breathing heavily, and Xavier... His face scrunched up, and tears began to fall from his face.
Oh, that was it, dream or not, she couldn't take it anymore. She was going to take her own path in the dream. Well, now it was time to really change the path of this dream. She even had an idea for how to do it. And so, she floated closer to Xavier.
“Xavier,” she said softly, trying to lay a hand on his shoulder. “Xavier, it's me--”
Her hand went right through his shoulder, and he let out of a gasp before looking up. Elin and Xavier's eyes met, but not for long, as Xavier shook his head and shut his eyes tightly for a moment, unable to stop the tears.
“Elin...” he whispered, his voice quivering.
“Xavier, I can explain this,” Elin said, doing her best to be comforting. It hurt her to see Xavier and her friends like this. But she couldn't turn this dream around by being complacent. Not when she knew the truth. “It's not as bad as you think. It'll be okay.”
Xavier turned and looked at her, a look of disbelief lining his face. “Not as... E-Elin, how can you say that? You're... I thought you'd...”
Elin hadn't even noticed how Arthur was acting, but a sudden cry from him suddenly shot through the air, interrupting what they were saying.
“It's not... It's not okay,” Arthur stammered. “I-it already wasn't okay and now I've come back and I f-find you d-dead, a-a-and you can't pretend this is okay! I-I can't...”
Arthur's own face scrunched up, and he muttered out a pitiful “Sorry” as he rushed out of the room.
“Wait, I really can explain!” Elin called out. She wasn't going to leave Xavier's side, but... she'd rather not leave that sour note in the dream anyway. “I know...” she said, looking back to Xavier. “I know this seems bad. And... And it is bad. But... It's okay... Because it isn't real.”
Xavier looked at her in disbelief, trying to find a breath between his shaking sobs. “E-Elin...”
“No, really,” Elin said. “This is just in my mind. This is a dream. A bad dream. But... Well, I don't want it to stay one. We can savor this time as much as we can. Because it's my dream. And it'll all be over when I wake up, and I'll be alive. And then I'll come find you on the battlefield, and it'll all be okay, and... And you don't believe me.”
Elin frowned. She was sure her argument would convince him, that it would cause him to be sad for a little bit, but then laugh. And then they could share the dream together, and make it better, make it a happy one, one that she could talk about with the real Xavier later when things were calmer. But Xavier only stared at her, his face layered in misery. Ilsa now came to his side and put a hand on his quaking shoulder.
“Elin... Th-this...” he gulped. “This isn't a dream.”
Elin only blinked. “Xavier...”
With a sob, Xavier continued. “And I-I wish... I wish it was, and I-I want it to be, I really want it to be, b-but, Elin, I...” he reached out his hand, a familiar motion that Elin knew was a gesture to stroke her face. But his hand passed right through her. His face scrunched up again and he put his hand to his forehead, sobbing harder.
Elin frowned. She supposed it was harder than she thought to convince a dream construct. “Xavier... Really, I know my dreams. And ghosts don't exist. It...” Elin smiled. “It doesn't make sense any other way.”
“...No,” came Ilsa's voice. Elin looked up warily at the upset-looking Ilsa, her mouth curved into a frown as she pinched her arm. “Xavier's right. This isn't a dream.”
Elin looked between Xavier and Ilsa again, and then to the door, remembering Arthur's rant before he left. They didn't... They really didn't believe her. Elin frowned.
“How would you know?” Elin asked. “I'm the one dreaming it. Besides, me being a ghost makes even less sense than this being a dream.”
Xavier could only stare at her for a moment, the tears ruining any perfect image of his eyes. “...Th-then wake up,” he said. “Please...”
Elin shook her head sadly. “I've tried. I can't. I think I was really tired when I fell asleep. Otherwise, I would, Xavier. Trust me.”
Xavier shook his head, but he spoke no more, merely letting his tears slide down his face as he let out choked sobs.
“Xavier, please...” Elin said. “I told you, it's... It's not real...”
“Elin,” Ilsa interrupted. Elin looked up to her somber face. “Try pinching yourself.”
“What?”
“Just try it.”
“Why would...? Oh, right. Fine. I will. But it's not gonna work because this is a dream and I'm a ghost here and ghosts don't exist anyway.”
Elin raised one of her hands to her other arm and grabbing onto a piece of ghostly skin—at least she could grab that—before pinching it hard between her fingernails. What she felt wasn't anything earthly. It felt new, and... Different. But she definitely felt something. And among it...
It even felt painful.
Elin stared in astonishment before moving to pinch herself again in another place, with the same result.
“No...” she whispered.
Ilsa shut her eyes tightly as she embraced Xavier from behind, the latter who fell into the hug. The two said nothing, but what they did was enough.
“But... But it doesn't make sense. Ghosts aren't real. A-and even if they are I... I wasn't dying. I just got ill again, a-and it's not fatal, and I...”
Ilsa just stared wordlessly as Xavier shook in her grasp. Elin looked down at herself again and thought it through. The familiar room, the stabbing pain in her body just before she fell asleep, the way the dream didn't change around her, that the coronation didn't change... And though she was a ghost, she could still feel things, if in a strange way; the air around her, the strange feeling that flowed through her, the absence of her heart breaking at the sight of Xavier...
...The sudden chill that permeated her very being.
Elin reached a hand forward to try to touch Xavier, to join him in the hug. But her hand went through them, and she pulled it away when she saw him shiver slightly at her touch. So she backed away, only able to watch as Xavier stared back, unable and unwilling to hide the distraught look on his face. She hated to see this, hated what she now was, hated everything about this. But she could only stare... Only stare and be so close, and yet so far away... She took in a short, shuddered gasp of air, foreshadowing the breakdown that was slowly boiling to the surface. But no tears came to her eyes.
They never would again.
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Post by Gelquie on Oct 26, 2014 22:14:39 GMT -5
Some time ago, before Elin became involved in the Party Capital RP (link below), I postulated on what would happen to Elin, and how she got involved. To help make it clear in my mind, I wrote a little drabble on how she managed to be in the condition she was in when we see her in Party Capital. Some of this info made it into the RP as the characters tried to figure things out. I don't think there's any more info in this story that can spoil any or many future things in the RP at this point, so I'm going to go ahead and post said drabble now. Juiced(Canon story Timeframe: ~1 year after the epilogue of Medieval, ~1.75 years after the Coronation, same day as Party Capital. Wordcount: 2.1K words) Elin hadn't meant to, honestly. It wasn't part of the plan.
All she wanted was to stay at the festival a little while longer. She had gone earlier in the day with Xavier so that they could both see the sights and enjoy the shows. Elin in particular was looking forward to the shows in order to see the Lyellian tricks and stunts. So far, she was not disappointed. Xavier, however, could only stay so long. He had an important task to complete for House Jade, and by the time early evening began, he had to leave. Although with the crowd getting a little more rowdy, she couldn't deny that he also figured that it was good timing. But regardless of the rowdiness of the crowds, Elin decided to stay behind. There was one act later in the evening involving the acrobats that she particularly wanted to see, and it sounded like it would end with just enough time for Elin to get ready for her meeting with the Shadow Council. So after a little kiss, she let Xavier go.
In retrospect, perhaps she should have left too.
As the event drew closer, Elin couldn't help but feel a little hungry. She spent most of her time at the Festival staring at the events and sights, so much so that she had forgotten to eat. Well, that was something she could fix. She figured it wouldn't hurt to get something before the performance, and it would be good to eat before the meeting started. So with enough time to spare, she went to some of the nearby merchant booths. During her time at the Festival, she had seen some stands selling alcohol, but she avoided them. Alcohol and Council meetings weren't a good combination, even if she was careful. That wasn't part of the plan at all.
She ended up buying a small thing of sweet bread and some juice. She had realized that mostly, she was thirsty. She knew from experience that even hunger wasn't as bad as long as she was hydrated. And juice at least had a taste to it without being alcoholic. A pretty nice taste too, she could tell from a sip. She wondered what kind of fruits were in it. She didn't spend too long thinking about it though; she had to hurry to the performance.
When she arrived, she sat down in one of the chairs off to the side so that the sound of her eating wouldn't bother anyone else. And not long after she started eating, the performance began. Elin mostly kept her eyes on it, watching their every move as she ate the bread—finishing that off fairly quickly—and working her way through the juice as the show went on. She didn't really pay much attention to that, her attention focused entirely on the performers, what they did, how they did it...
Perhaps she should've focused on more than just that. For if she paid just a little less attention, and was a little more self-aware, she might not have dismissed any odd feelings so easily, and might have realized that something was wrong.
The performance ended, and Elin applauded, not at all disappointed. It was an astounding performance, and she looked forward to trying some of the tricks out later. It almost made her feel giddy thinking about it. She finished off the juice, and then as she looked down, at only the trace amounts left in the bottle, she noticed that things had begun to look... odd. Was the juice bottle... blurry and wobbling?
Was everything else?
Elin began to take a look around her, at the crowd, at the ground, only to find that she couldn't get her eyes into focus, and everything looked a little dimmer. Shaking her head slightly, she began to stand to her feet.
“W-woah,” she said suddenly as she did so. 'Woo, that was a mistake. Everything began to waver faster, and she found it hard to get find a good position, and she swayed on the spot. When did she feel so odd and... light? Going back and forth so... easily? Around and around, like a little breeze, or a little feather on the wind, flying free... She let out a little giggle and she clumsily brought her free hand to grab the chair she was sitting in earlier in order to try and steady herself. Somehow, it only made things look more distorted. How could... She closed one eye to have the other eye try to peer into the bottle of the juice, swaying all the way. It didn't... look funny. It smelled like juice, tasted like juice. But juice didn't make everything like this.
She shook her head again, quickly learning to close her eyes as she did so, and she took a step away only to find herself falling to the ground. She merely lay there for a while, and let out another laugh in spite of herself. Why was she laughing?
“I'm fine,” she said to anyone who cared. “It'sh... It'sh... It's jusht...” And now talking was harder too. The last time she felt like this, she was...
...Oh no.
She stared at the bottle again and slurred out a swear. ”But he shaid it wash juish,” she murmured to herself. “That'sh not... That'sh not... No.” She found herself getting angry. She ought to find the guy who sold it to her and punch him in the nose. Yeah. That's what she should do. Unsteadily, one hand still on the bottle, she tried to get to her feet, only to stumble. So she merely looked up, trying to peer through the crowd and make sense of her sight. Meanwhile, she tried to comb through her head to find out where she had gone, and to determine what things around her looked like. But it was hard to do both at once, with her head feeling like it was floating, drifting. She still tried, but... She must not have paid that much attention, as she couldn't remember anything coherent enough that would help her find the person who sold her the juice.
She grumbled and slowly got to her feet. It was okay. She could get the hang of this... Walking thing. She'd being doing it all her life, no reason she couldn't do it now, to the 'Pit with what was in her stomach. She just had to try, she just had to... focus.
Well, it was what she was good at. What she'd always been good at. She'd be fine. A bottle of mystery liquid wasn't going to bring her down that easily, she decided. She took some uneasy steps at first, uncertain of where she was walking, although at least it felt light, and kind of fun. Then she glanced towards some of the other patrons, looking at their feet.
...Come to think, there were a lot of drunk patrons, weren't there? Seemed she wasn't the only one. Hmph. She'd have to find a more sober person to watch to see how they walked in this wobbly world. But she could manage till then. She could.
And so, inebriated and confused, Elin staggered away.
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Post by Gelquie on Nov 3, 2014 23:20:56 GMT -5
I actually first wrote this story for the FreeRice event, when my team was on the Anatomy section. We were prompted to write a story about how our characters were doing. This was the result. (I don't have a title yet. Will edit one in later.) Something New(Canon Story Timeframe: Between 4-5 years after the Coronation Wordcount: 1.1K words) Elin woke up that morning, blearily blinking as the familiar ceiling of the abode slowly came into focus. Once again, she'd had another dream where she and her siblings were kids again, playing around in the field during their breaks from their chores. There wasn't anything weird about the dreams themselves; they almost felt like snippets from her childhood if not for a few details that either didn't happen or weren't important enough to remember. Elin was partially confused about the frequency of the dreams; she hadn't even visited her family all that long ago, not long enough for her to justify another trip. She supposed it was another phase of dreams.
Elin tried to sit up and get to her feet only to feel a wave of dizziness as she did so. She sighed and fell backwards on the bed again. Don't get up that fast, Elin, she thought to herself. Instead, she turned her head to the other side of the bed only to find it empty. She didn't hear any other commotion around the house either... Then Elin remembered that he had to get up early to see to something. Oh well. He'd be back later, she was sure of it.
As for her... She sighed and tried to get up again, only to be hit by another wave of dizziness. She fell back and groaned slightly. It didn't normally take her so much effort to get up, but for a while, she had suddenly been struck with little illnesses whenever she got up. Nothing that lasted long, and not every day, but it was annoying when it did. When it first started happening, it had made her late for work more times than she would have liked until she got it into her head to start waking up earlier to give herself more time. The problem was that it didn't make the symptoms go away.
At first, Elin waved it off, citing it as a phase. Perhaps a strange phase, but one she'd get over. Her husband had been more concerned, though, and practically begged her to seek help. But she hesitated; it wasn't nearly as bad as when her magic was acting up, and the illnesses never lasted long, and they were infrequent. Now though, she was beginning to reconsider. She had to admit it was interfering with her routine, and on top of that, she was beginning to feel a little... odd. She had a few ideas about what it was, but she wasn't certain about any of them.
Elin lay back and stretched in bed. She had to go to work soon, but she knew she had a break later. And she was sure she could negotiate for a longer one, considering the circumstances. She didn't know what was going on, but she finally decided that it couldn't hurt to go find a Healer.
---
“Well Elin,” the healer said, sitting in a chair across from her. “I think I've already got a good idea of what's going on. I'm just going to need to ask you a few more things before I can confirm.”
Elin nodded, a frown across her face. “Alright,” she said. “Go ahead.”
“How long ago did this start?” the Healer asked.
“Oh, um... A-a few weeks ago...”
“...Can you give me an exact number?”
“...No?”
The healer gave Elin a look.
“Sorry, I don't know for sure. ...Um... Maybe a month. Maybe two?”
“Hmm, alright. And you said they were infrequent?”
“Yes.”
“In the mornings?”
A pause. “...Yes. I-it goes away after a while.”
“...Then I have one last question.”
“Alright.”
“When was your last monthly?”
Elin blinked. “I, uh... Oh. ...Oh.”
Elin suddenly looked away and rubbed her arm. “...Too long ago,” she said quietly.
The Healer nodded. “It looks like we're thinking the same thing,” she said. “But I'll say it anyway so you can hear it out loud. You're pregnant.”
For a long time, Elin didn't speak, and merely stared into the air before she let out a weak nod. She probably should have guessed as much, after all that had happened... And the signs. Some of them... She didn't know how she missed them. Now that it was made plain to her, and confirmed... It all seemed so clear now.
“Are you alright?” the Healer asked, breaking her out of her thoughts.
Elin was silent for a moment before laughing slightly.
“Yes... Yes, I'm fine. I'm...” A smile broke out on her face. “This is wonderful. It's just... New. I'm just... Going to have to get used to it.”
“I wouldn't worry about that,” the Healer said. “Most mothers who really want the baby adjust to the idea fairly quickly. I think you will too. ...I can't say the same for the father. Not just because I've never met him. Most fathers take longer to get used to the idea, if only because they aren't the one actually carrying the child.”
Elin grinned. “Maybe... But I'll talk to him. ...I guess I'd better tell my aunt too. And the rest of my family...”
“Yes, but one thing at a time,” the Healer said. “I still need to talk to you about what you'll have to expect and what you'll need to do. Besides, you need to give yourself time too. Don't stress yourself.”
Elin nodded. “Right, right...” it wasn't the first time she had to remind herself of that. She supposed it was more true now than ever.
The Healer went on to describe as best as she could what Elin needed to know, and as this happened, Elin found herself thinking about her future, the things she had to do, and... explaining to everyone, or at least the few who should know at the start. Her Aunt should know, and then she could send word to her family in Kine. And the father...
Elin had no powers of future sight, but she still had a good idea of how he would react. This wouldn't be a topic to spring onto him; she'd have to find a good time to tell him for his own sake. She'd have to figure out how to do that. After she listened to the Healer. And got back to work. And took a long walk to give herself time to think. But he should know soon. And then... They could start planning, getting things ready, getting themselves ready... And look forward to the one that would join their family.
The smile didn't leave Elin's face, as she thought about the future with her, Xavier, and the child. And if you're curious about the aftermath, the fic for that is in this thread, under "Breaking the News".
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Post by Gelquie on Nov 17, 2014 22:17:58 GMT -5
Elivier Children story! A Discovery(Canon Story Timeframe: About 12 years after Medieval if my math is right. Wordcount: ~2K words) Elin sat at a table in the house, staring at the work in front of her as she heard the patter of rain outside and the laughter of the children in the room. Normally, she would wait for more quiet circumstances before working on her report for the King, but ever since her children had gotten older, with the youngest at 3... Well, quiet circumstances were a thing of the past. Elin had sequestered herself in the corner of the room, leaving plenty of room for the children to play. She occasionally peered up from her work to watch them, but was overall confident that they would be okay.
“My turn, my turn!” Muriel said in glee. “But I wan' go 'gain!” Ivy complained. “You just had a turn!” Muriel retorted. “And I wanna go...” Ciro said. “But I wanna!” Ivy whined.
Elin looked up and called out. “Kids, take turns,” she suggested. “You'll all get a chance.”
Muriel sighed. “Okay... I'll go first, then Ciro can go, then you can go Ivy, okay?” Ivy sighed. “Okay...” Ciro nodded.
Elin smiled and looked back down at her work, keeping one ear open for what they were doing.
“Okay, okay!” Muriel said with a smile, standing at the forefront of the two. “I'm the Robin and you have to do as I say! And Robin says jump up and down!”
They both did so, giggling.
“Okay!” Muriel said. “Robin says lie down on the ground!”
They both did so.
“Stand up!” Muriel commanded.
Ivy started to stand before catching herself halfway.
“Ivy, Robin didn't say stand!” Muriel said, pointing at her. “I stop!” Ivy complained. “But you were gonna do it!” “No I not!” “Yes you were!” “No I not!” “Yes you were!” “Stoppiiiiit,” Ciro said. “I jus' wanna play!”
Muriel sighed. “Fiiiiine. But only because I wanna be Robin more! Robin says get up and pretend to ride a horsie!”
They both got up and did so, although neither were very coordinated about it. Ivy looked like she was merely jumping again, although she certainly tried.
“Put your hands out to the side!”
Neither of them did so.
“Okay...” Muriel thought for a moment, then smirked. “Robin says do a handstand!”
Ciro blinked. “But I'unno how!”
“I'll show you!” Muriel said. “Just do it like this!”
Elin carefully glanced up at her work in time to see Muriel put her hands on the ground before rising up into a handstand, with the other two watching. Muriel was only able to hold it for a few seconds before falling.
“Like that!” Muriel said. “See?”
Elin frowned, and prepared to get out of her chair in case of any handstand-related incidences. She had done more risky things at her age for sure, but it did look like an minor injury waiting to happen.
To her relief, Ciro didn't seem to be able to do it. He crouched down and put his hands on the floor and tried to propel himself up. But his legs never got far off the ground, certainly not far enough to do a handstand. If Ciro couldn't do it, Elin figured that certainly, Ivy couldn't. Not at her age.
Ivy seemed to hesitate for a moment, looking at Muriel.
“Ivy, you gonna try?” Muriel asked.
Ivy nodded. “Yeah, I gonna! I gonna do it!”
Ivy knelt down to the ground, pausing for a moment. For a moment, it looked like she was going to give up, or make a weak attempt at the move. But then she propelled her legs, and soon, she was in a steady handstand.
Muriel let out a small gasp. “No way...”
Elin began to get out of her chair when Ivy let herself fall, making a small laugh.
“I didit, I didit!” Ivy proclaimed, laughing and lying on the floor.
“Yeah, you did...” Muriel said. “I didn't really think you could do it, but you did... That means you win, Ivy!”
“Yay!” she cheered, not getting up.
Ciro shook his head. “How'd you do that?”
But by this time, Elin had reached them and knelt down towards Ivy. “Ivy? Ivy, are you okay?”
“She's fine mom; she just did a handstand!” Muriel said.
“I know,” Elin said. “That's what I'm worried about.”
“Really mom, it's fiiine,” Muriel said.
Elin let out a frown of worry before bringing Ivy's face up. “Ivy, do you feel weird at all?”
“I okay!” Ivy proclaimed. “Was justa big move!” She smiled while hanging onto Elin's arm.
Elin could only stare for a moment, in silence.
“...Mommy?” Ciro asked.
“What's wrong mommy?” Muriel asked.
Elin shook her head. “Nothing, it's just... Muriel, Ciro, why don't you two keep playing? I need to talk to Ivy.”
Muriel gaped. “She didn't do anything wrong! I'm the one who made her do it!”
“She's not in trouble,” Elin said. “No one here is. I just need to talk to her. You two keep playing, we'll be right back, okay?”
Muriel and Ciro stared for a moment before nodding. “Okay...”
Ivy stood and tugged on her mother's arm again. “But I wanna play! Hey!” she protested as Elin picked her up, carrying her into another room. Elin ignored her protests as she closed the door behind her, leaving Muriel and Ciro to another game.
“Ivy, tell me,” Elin started, setting Ivy down on the floor. “Did you feel tired from that at all?”
Ivy thought for a moment, then answered. “Only a little. But I did it like big sis!”
Elin tried to smile, even if it was slightly forced. “Yes, yes you did,” she said. “And you did a good job of it too.”
Ivy smiled. “Thanks mommy!”
“But Ivy...” Elin paused, glancing down at Ivy's body before continuing. “Did it seem different from the way you do other things?”
Ivy shook her head. “No. ...Mebbe. ...I'unno.”
Elin frowned. She should've expected an answer like that. This certainly wasn't the first time she had done things like this. Such as when she took her first steps at an age sooner than when the other children were able to do it. Or when she managed to catch the ball being thrown at her, even though Muriel was the only one who was starting to manage it. They were little things, able to be chalked up to childhood talent. But this...
Elin stopped. She wasn't going to get many answers from a 3 year old this way. There was only one other way to know for sure.
“Ivy,” she said, reaching into her pouch. “Let's play a game of Robin together. Right now. Let me be Robin first, and then I'll let you go. Okay?”
Ivy's eyes brightened up. “Okay!' she said, clapping her hands together. Elin tried to smile.
“Okay,” she said. And she kneeled down. Start easy. “Robin says walk in place.”
Ivy did so.
“Okay, now stop.”
Ivy didn't. Right, the rules of the game.
“Robin says stop walking,” she corrected herself. And Ivy did. Elin took a deep breath. Okay, now for the harder part.
“Robin says...” she hesitated before taking out a piece of parchment and a pen. “Robin says to watch me draw this, as closely as you can, then try to copy what I did.”
Ivy looked confused at the command, but she nodded. Elin tore the parchment in half and set them both down on the ground. She then began drawing on the one closest to her. It was just a sketch for her; just an outline of a figure, one of a girl from back in her hometown, and one that she was sure that Ivy had never met. She didn't spend too much time putting detail into it, nor did she make it a big drawing. But it was complicated enough that she was certain a normal 3-year-old couldn't perform the task she just asked. She didn't wait long after she finished before she hid the piece of parchment she just drew on and put the other blank one in front of Ivy, handing her a pen. Elin then sat nearby as she watch Ivy take the pen to the paper.
Ivy seemed to hesitate at first, her hand grasping the pen as would any child. Elin waited, wondering if she was mistaken. Then Ivy seemed to change her grip. Not a great one, but one that was far better than before. And then she began to draw.
The first few lines could be dismissed as flukes, Elin thought. But as Ivy went on, there was no denying the skill that she put into the drawings, the ease with which the pen flowed across the paper. Elin was familiar with Ivy's drawings, and they were what you would expect from any three year old. But Ivy worked hard, putting her effort into the sketch, her drawings taking much more form than before. It wasn't exactly what Elin had drawn, and there was still a childlike quality to it. But there was no denying that the quality greatly exceeded what she should have been able to do.
As Ivy began to sketch the girl's pigtails, Elin looked at her and began to notice her eyes drooping. Elin frowned and put a hand forward as the girl finished the pigtails.
“Thank you, Ivy,” she said. “You can stop now.”
Ivy looked up. “But it's not done. Not like yours.”
“That's okay. It's close enough. You win! And you did a really good job.”
Elin leaned forward and wrapped Ivy in a hug. “You did such a good job that I'm going to show daddy as soon as he comes home. And then tomorrow, we can visit Uncle Leif, and we'll show it to him too!” She pulled back slightly, holding Ivy's shoulders. “Don't you think that'd be fun?”
Ivy nodded vigorously. “Yeah!” She let out a yawn.
Elin smiled guiltily. She wished she didn't have to tire her like this, but testing it was the only way to know for sure. “Do you want a nap?”
“But you said I could play.”
“...That's right, I did,” Elin said. “Okay, go ahead and take your turn if you want and then you can take a nap, or you can take a nap now. Okay?”
Ivy nodded. “Okay. But I wanna play!”
Ivy went to the forefront and began to give Elin little commands, which Elin performed as she let her thoughts wander. Ivy lasted for a little while before insisting on returning to play with her siblings, but it was clear that her fatigue was getting to her. Not long later, Elin took her upstairs, and Ivy was soon napping in her bed.
Elin was deep in thought as she tucked Ivy under the blanket. Everything was confirmed now, and it was just as she thought. That meant there was finally another mimic, just like her... But there was no doubt in her mind about the liability that would come with it. Elin knew well the consequences that came with that kind of magic. And there was no doubt about what they would have to do for Ivy's future, and how they would have to prepare Ivy to handle this for the rest of her life.
But unlike Elin, she wasn't the only one. Ivy wouldn't be alone.
Elin kissed the slumbering Ivy on the cheek before walking out of the room and heading back downstairs. The other two children were still at play, and it would still be some time before Xavier comes home. But she knew that when he did, she'd have to tell him about this as soon as she could.
...I should make Xavier tea first before telling him, Elin thought.
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Post by Gelquie on Dec 14, 2014 0:40:20 GMT -5
This one I've been sitting on for a long time trying to get right, but I'll post it now. Snake in the Grass(Canon Story Timeframe: 1301 Wordcount: ~2.5K words) Elin Ryer was frolicking in a field of grass, on a sunny happy day outside the farmhouse. In the distance, the young child saw her parents out near the field, with her father moving around large stacks of harvest while her heavily pregnant mother sat on a chair and set to work on preparing some farm equipment for a later task. With her parents busy and her little sister taking a nap, Elin was left to her own devices, while being firmly told to keep out of trouble and to stay in sight.
Elin was in the midst of running in circles while chasing an 'invisible evil bad guy' when she stepped on something odd, and she stopped. Bringing her foot back, she glanced down at the ground to see something odd, brightly colored, and wriggling. Elin gasped as it lifted its head, opening its mouth and letting out a slow hiss.
“I'm sorry!” Elin cried out, staring at the strange creature. “I didn't see you! What are you?”
She began to reach out her hand at the creature's head. Whenever she upset her dog, she could always make it feel better by petting it, and it happened for the other animals too. Maybe this would make it feel better.
The creature hissed again—louder this time—and began leaning forward. Elin stopped, but the creature was not assuaged. It began to leap forward towards Elin's hand, and she only just pulled her hand out of the way.
“Hey!” Elin called. “That's not nice!”
The snake only hissed once more.
“Just lemme pet you, you'll feel better!”
“Elin, what's going on over there?” came a call from the field. Her mother.
“Thing's trying to bite me!” Elin called back. “But don't worry, I can make it feel better.”
“No Elin, don't get closer! Philip, go help her!”
“Mom, it's fine, I can do it!”
“Elin, STAY AWAY FROM IT!”
Her father was rushing over now, and he quickly caught up with Elin. Elin pointed at the creature.
“I stepped on it and made it mad,” she said, looking at her father. She didn't notice the thing wriggling closer. Her father scooped her up and kicked the thing away.
“Daddy, what are you doing?!” she gasped.
Her father set her back down a few paces away. “Elin, that's a snake, and a dangerous one. Stay there.”
Elin only watched as her father turned away, going back towards the snake. He reached into his belt and pulled out a knife. Elin gasped.
“But daddy, it was me; I made it mad!” Elin protested.
Her father kicked the snake down before stepping on its head, preventing it from moving. He knelt down and peered closer. “...Elin, you're lucky it didn't bite you,” he said. “You don't want this one to bite you. It's venomous. …Er, bad things happen.”
Her father brought the knife down and carefully cut through the neck, until its head was severed. Elin gasped and turned away as he did so.
“You killed it!” she exclaimed with shock.
“You don't want these kind of snakes around,” her father said when he was finished. He picked up the body and Elin turned in time to see him throwing the body far into the distance. He then put away the knife and turned back towards Elin, picking her up and starting to walk back towards the farm. “You may have made it mad, but we can't keep them around either. Those snakes aren't good.”
As they got closer, the called out to her mother. “Petra, she's okay!”
“Oh thank 'Woo,” her mother breathed a sigh of relief. “What was it, exactly?”
“It was a venomous snake; she stepped on it,” he explained, setting Elin down near Petra. “It didn't bite her, thankfully.”
“Elin...” Petra brought her arms out, inviting Elin into a hug, which she accepted, putting her arms around her swollen belly.
“...That snake was a bad guy...” Elin breathed.
Petra patted her hair. “Yes. It was a bad guy. But your daddy took care of it.”
“And not a moment too soon,” Philip said with a sigh.
“Elin, listen to me very carefully,” Petra said, staring into her daughter's eyes. “We don't get a lot of snakes around here, but they must be somewhere nearby. You need to look out for them, and you have to be very careful of them. It was a venomous snake, and those could kill you. But we can take care of it. If you see one, just stay away and call one of us. Okay?”
Elin looked up at Petra, weighing her words. She was serious, very serious. Elin leaned her head against Petra's stomach.
“Okay mommy,” she said.
----
As it turned out, Elin was very good at sticking to her word. With the weight of her parents' words and tone, and with how close she came to being bitten, she had grown a sudden aversion to playing in the grassy field at all. Whenever she went to play, she played anywhere but there. If one of her parents suggested that she play there, she'd be quick to argue, and she would start crying if they pressed her.
Their concerns were quickly muted when Petra went into labor and gave birth to another baby girl. The first few days were exciting for Elin; having gotten another sister and friend to play with, just like with Nina. But it did mean that her mother had to stay in bed for a while, spending time recovering from the birthing process. And in that time, she was averse to letting go of the baby for long. This left the father alone to do the work. Elin tried to help when she could, but there was only so much a four-year-old could do.
One day during this time, the mother was taking a nap with her baby and the father was hard at work at something Elin couldn't help with, leaving her alone to play with the two-year-old Nina. They were encouraged to play within sight of the father, but Elin felt tasked with the assignment of being Nina's big sister, and thus making sure she didn't get hurt as they played.
Nina, unfortunately, wasn't into the same games that Elin liked playing. Nina quickly lost interest in both “chase the bad guy”, and “hide and peek”. As Elin was pondering other games, Nina began to wander off. The father, who had entered the house for a bit to check on his wife, didn't notice. Elin didn't notice either until she looked up and saw Nina go into the grassy field. Elin gasped.
“Nina, NO!” she shouted. “That's a bad place! Come back!”
Elin ran after her, but Nina was already traipsing through the field without a care in the world. Elin stomped her feet at the edge of the grass.
“Ninaaaa, come BACK!” Elin called, glancing between the grass below and Nina, her face wide with worry. Nina was too far away for Elin to grab, but the grass still scared her... And it didn't help that Nina seemed to be completely ignoring her. She glanced around, but her daddy was nowhere in sight. And if she didn't get over there in time...
“NINA!” Elin yelled again. This time Nina did stop, but after a moment, Elin realized with horror that it wasn't because of her shouting.
Nina laughed and pointed at the ground. “Wiggle thing, wiggle thing!” she chanted.
Elin froze. “GET AWAY!” she shouted. “DADDYYYYY!”
She heard commotion in the house, but it was too far away. Nina wasn't moving away, just giggling at the snake, when it could do very bad things.
Daddy may not get here in time, Elin thought with horror. She gulped and shut her eyes tightly for a moment before darting into the grass.
“NINA, GO 'WAY!” she shouted, running towards her. She pushed Nina back and onto the ground, and the toddler began to bawl. Elin looked at the ground at see a snake near them, curled up in the grass.
“Bad thing, BAD THING!” Elin shouted. She kicked it away, but she wasn't able to kick it very far. And now it was closer to Nina... And no longer curled up, instead rising.
Elin gasped. “NonoNO!” She tried to think. Last time, daddy kicked away the last snake and stabbed it, but she didn't have knives, and she wasn't good at kicking. But he also picked it up after and threw it far, far away. She shuddered at the thought.
“Nina, up, go! I don't want to touch snake!” she protested. But Nina was busy crying on the ground, with the snake way too close for comfort. Elin shut her eyes tightly and darted her hand towards the ground, picking up the snake by the tail. She vaguely heard a shout behind her as she did so, but right now she didn't care.
“Go 'WAY!” she shouted, ready to throw. But before she could, the snake wrapped around her hand before sinking its fangs into her hand.
Elin screamed and tried to flail it away, but it stuck firm to her hand. She screamed as she started to cry. “NONONONO NOOOO! DADDYYYY!”
Not long later, she heard footsteps behind her and then felt her arm being grabbed. The hand uncoiled the snake from Elin's arm before throwing it aside, a good distance away from them. The figure—her father—turned Elin to face him. “Elin, Elin listen, stay calm, I need to see what kind of snake that is.”
“I went out cause Nina went out and I wanted it to go away and it bit me and I'm gonna die I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry!” Elin continued to cry, tears running down her face.
“Elin, hold on,” her father said, worry edged in his voice. He briefly broke away from Elin towards the snake and stepped on it at the head. He peered down before shaking his head, letting out a sigh of relief.
“Elin, Elin come look, you're not dying,” he said.
“But it's a snake and it BIT ME!” Elin screamed.
“But it's not venomous, look.” The father took her arm and gently brought her over, pointing down at the struggling snake. “The last snake had a broad head, especially near its neck. This one doesn't. That means it's not going to poison you.”
Elin sniffed. “But it hurts.”
“It will, but it'll get better. You're not going to die, I promise,” the father said. He picked up the snake by the head before tossing it into the distance. Elin looked up.
“Y-you're n-not g-gonna k-kill it?” she asked incredulously between sobs.
The father knelt down and scooped the screeching Nina up in his arms, wrapping her in a one-armed hug before putting a free hand on Elin's shoulder. “Not those snakes, no. The venomous ones we need to deal with so that they don't hurt you. But the non-venomous ones aren't so bad if you leave them alone. They don't hurt our crops, and they only kill things that we don't want around here anyway, like rats. It only attacked you because you scared it.”
Elin continued to cry as she listened to his words, and when he finished, she continued bawling anyway. “B-but it hurts...” she complained. “A-an' I don't wanna be out here, I don't wanna see another snake, I don't wanna see one forever!”
Elin wrapped her arms around her father protectively, and he picked her up with one arm, shouldering the equally-sobbing Nina in the other. “It's okay, we'll get back inside now. And then I'll wash your wound so you don't get sick, okay?”
Elin nodded and continued crying as her father walked them back. True to his word, after calming Nina and setting her down, he took a bit of spare water and a small flask of spirits and damped two cloths with them. Elin cried as he proceeded to wipe the wound.
“Daddy, it stings,” she complained.
“I know, dear,” he said. “But it'll make sure you don't get sick.”
When he was near finished, he dabbed it once more with the cloth of water before tying another small cloth around it. “There. Now don't take it off until it's healed.”
Elin sniffed as she looked at the bandage. “Okay, Daddy.”
He sighed. “We should have shown you earlier how to deal with snakes. I'm sorry we didn't. Next time you see a snake, tell me. Not just so you'll be safe. Your mother and I will show you what to look for to see if it's venomous or not.”
Elin sniffed, taking in a shaky sigh as her tears began to dry. “...What does 'ven-um-us' mean?”
“Venomous means that their bite has something in it that makes people sick. Some people die if there aren't any doctors around, and... Well, we don't have any doctors in town. It's best if you stay away from them.”
Elin looked away. “I'm sorry I didn't. But Nina...”
“I know. And you were very brave going out there to help her. It's good you tried to get her away. But you shouldn't have attacked it by yourself without knowing. There are better ways to deal with snakes. They're easy to deal with if you know what you're doing.”
His father kneeled down to her level and smiled. “For instance, next time you go out into the grass, take one of the big sticks with you. That way you can keep the snake away until I get there.”
Elin paused. “But I don't wanna go out into the grass.”
“You can't avoid it forever.”
“But they're scary...”
He put a hand on her shoulder and spoke slowly and softly. “Elin, you were very brave going out there, even though you were scared. And that's good, because you can't always run away from what you're scared of. Sometimes it's okay to run and get help, but you may not always be able to. You can run to us for now; you're still young, and we're here for you. But one day, you'll be a big girl, you'll have to be ready to face things by yourself, even if you're afraid. And when you do, you should be ready. And you can't be ready if you always avoid snakes. For now, you should come to us; we'll help you. But you need to be prepared.”
Elin nodded before hugging her father, nuzzling her nose into his clothes. “Okay...”
Her father patted her on the back. “That's a good girl. Why don't I fix you something to eat? And then we can prepare something for your mother when she wakes up.”
He took Elin by her uninjured hand and led her away from the room.
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Post by Gelquie on Dec 26, 2014 3:58:12 GMT -5
This is a short fic I've been sitting on for a while. This fic takes place between the end of Round/Day 3 and the start of Round/Day 4 of Medieval; the evening before the Feast. Stressed(Canon Story Between Round 3 and 4 of Medieval Wordcount: ~1.2K words) Elin's arm was stiff as it cut through the last of the meat she had to butcher. Her muscles were tense, and her teeth were gritted together so tightly that they may as well have been stuck together. Night had since fallen, but there was nothing that could be done about it, not with the size of the order they had.
Clare looked over at her niece with a frown. Clare's health had improved since morning, and thus she was able to help Elin a little more, but she still had to take frequent breaks, leaving Elin to do most of the work. And after the type of day that Elin described... Clare wiped her forehead with a cloth.
“Elin... Why don't you let me finish that?” Clare offered.
“No,” Elin said immediately, her tone of voice stressed and on edge. “It's only a little left, and you're still sick. And I'm already cutting it.”
“Elin--”
“Just hold on, Auntie,” Elin grumbled as she cut through the last of the meat. Silence hung in the air for a whole five minutes, Elin doing her best to cut through the meat and tear off the fat before separating the meat. Finally, she made her last cut, and her knife clattered to the table as she sighed.
“There...” she said. “That's... That's the last of it...”
Elin stood there, savoring the moment of freedom before she turned her head, seeing the cart sitting just outside. She let out a sigh as she began stacking the meat in the cart. “...Right... The Keep... They want it beforehand, want to cook all of it...”
Clare frowned. “Elin, really, I'm doing a lot better,” she said. “I can take the trip.”
“Auntie, you still had to stop a lot,” she said. “I can do it. I can do it...”
“Elin,” her aunt said, putting a hand on her shoulder. Great 'Woo, she was tense, and Clare couldn't miss the fatigued look in her eyes. “Don't make yourself sick either.”
“I'm not worried about that,” Elin said bluntly and tersely. “We don't get that order up, we could lose a lot of money, and then we'll be worse off, and then--”
Clare squeezed Elin's shoulder. “Elin, Elin it's okay. We'll get it there.”
“We'll get it there if I go now,” Elin muttered.
“And then you'll rest?” Clare asked.
“Yes,” Elin said, moving away from Clare's grasp as she loaded the cart with more meat. “When I get home, that is.”
Clare frowned. “At least let me walk with you,” she said. “I could use the air anyway.”
Elin pondered for a moment, then she sighed.
“Alright,” she mumbled, as she prepared to leave.
Elin wasn't really excited to push the cart to the Keep, straining against the load and her own exhaustion. Though it was true that she didn't feel sick, that didn't mean she felt well either. Clare offered to help, but Elin refused to let go of the handles of the cart. At one point during the walk, Clare let out a sigh.
“Elin... I'm really sorry, by the way,” Clare said. “If I'd known we'd have this big an order today, I wouldn't have even touched the wine.”
“It's more their fault, really,” Elin grumbled. “They could've told us ahead of time, sent out a reminder before we got distracted by the funeral so we could at least prepare...” Elin frowned. “But it's royalty and nobility first, as always, we both know that.”
Clare frowned at these words. It wasn't the first time Elin complained about the nobility, which was probably not a wise topic to have once they ascended to the Keep. She attempted to shift the topic. “At least you could have fun at the Feast.”
Elin grimaced. “Fun? Auntie, we always have to do the catering, remember? Part of the business.”
Clare paused. “...Elin, tell you what. You let me handle that tomorrow. I know I'll be better by then, and you've done enough already.”
Elin sighed. “I could still have a chance at food with the catering.”
“I can sneak you some out,” Clare said. “Cause I'll be doing the catering anyway; so no ticket for me. Just you enter the lottery, and if you don't get in... Don't worry. Tomorrow is yours.”
Elin stopped, the cart coming to a halt. “Auntie...”
“I've had my fun, Elin,” Clare said. “And it got me sick when you needed help. Don't worry Elin, I can do the job fine. And with my name out of the pool, you have a better chance of getting picked. I'd rather better the chances of you getting in and enjoying yourself than getting a chance to go myself and then not have you go.” Clare put up a hand. “And don't argue. I'm not changing my mind. You deserve it.”
Elin's mouth dropped open. “Auntie, I... I really shouldn't--”
“You really should,” Clare retorted. “I don't want you breaking yourself. Besides, you deserve it.”
Clare put her hand on Elin's shoulder, and gradually put her arms around Elin, giving her a careful hug.
“Auntie, I...” She stammered for a moment before shaking her head, returning the hug.. “Thanks...” Another quiet moment later, she mumbled. “...I'm sorry for being snappy at you.”
“It's alright; after all that work and what you described about Kelcey... Well, I think I'd be snappy too.”
Elin frowned. “Kelcey...” she sighed and brought herself away, going back to pushing the cart. “He had me running around after him during that whole funeral, and then he went and got himself hurt... He'd better still be resting tomorrow. I don't know if I wanna deal with him tomorrow...”
“He will if he knows what's good for him,” Clare said, giving a side glance to Elin as they walked. “Even he has to have enough sense for that.”
Elin sighed. “Maybe...”
They continued to make small talk as they went up to the Manor, the air between them considerably less tense. After they delivered the meat, they were quick to begin their return to the shop. But Elin took a detour, telling Clare that she would come home later and come with her to the Keep tomorrow. Clare tried to tell her to rest, but Elin promised not to be gone long. Clare returned the cart and returned home. Later, when she was drifting off, she heard the door open and close, the familiar footsteps through the house reassuring her of her niece's safety. Elin herself immediately went to her room and fell onto her bed, and she quickly fell asleep.
She didn't get a full night's rest, not with how long she had been out. But for Elin, it would have to do.
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Post by Gelquie on Dec 28, 2014 3:12:10 GMT -5
This is a multi-part fic, and though said fic is not yet complete, here's the first part to it anyway, since it's pretty stand-alone. New to Wickerham(Canon Story ~20 years before the events of Medieval Wordcount: 1.5K words) Philip Ryer sweated in the sun as he worked the field, caring for each and every one of the plants. Over by the farmhouse, his parents gave concerned looks. Ever since his mother's chronic illness had begun, the work was left to them. Philip was more than happy to help, and he put all of his effort into his work. His parents were proud of his work ethic, but at times they thought it might be too much. At least Clare was still around long enough to help, at least until she followed through on her desire to get an apprenticeship somewhere. But while she put her best effort in, she still took her breaks when she got tired. Philip, looked obviously tired and his pace had slowed, and yet he still worked. The mother gave a nod, and the father sighed before getting up, striding over to his son.
“Philip,” he said, placing a hand on his shoulder. “You've been working hard all day. Why don't you take a break?”
But Philip shook his head. “Papa, I'm not done. There's still so much more.”
“And it'll be waiting for you when you get back.”
“Just a little more?”
“I'll handle it, really.”
Philip sighed, the young teenager folding his arms. “I don't even have anything else to do. I can't just sit around and do nothing.”
The father thought for a moment. “Philip, how about this... You know that old shovel, the one that barely works anymore?”
“Yes?”
“We've saved up some money. Why don't you go into town and replace it? And we can give you a little more to spend on something you like.”
Philip considered for a moment before sighing. “Alright. Do you want me to get anything else while I'm there?”
Philip and his father walked back to the house and memorized everything he needed to get, and soon, he began the long trek towards town.
Some time later, he found himself in front of the familiar houses that were the town of Wickerham. When he got there, he found himself with a surprise. Turns out that a group of the traders came by yearly were here for a visit. They usually sold goods that were harder to come by, or at least goods that were in better condition than they could usually get in Wickerham. Curious, he walked closer, keeping his mind on his shopping list as he browsed their goods.
As he did this, he heard a brief conversation between two people.
“Are you sure I'll be okay?” the voice asked. The voice of a girl.
“You'll be better than before, at least,” the other voice said. “I know you wanted to travel more with us, but we can't afford to make another trip just to bring you back here. Besides, I'm sure our friends here want to see you.”
Philip looked out of the corner of his eye to see where the conversation was coming from. A young woman stood there, tall, dark, and lanky, who couldn't have been too much younger than him. She was standing besides a man, who was leaning over one of the chests they were carrying with them.
“I'm really going to miss you,” the woman said. “All of you.”
The man looked up at her. “I know. We'll miss you too. But it's for the best. After that plague...”
The woman frowned and looked away. “Don't remind me.”
“...Well, we'll still visit once a year; still part of our trips. And we'll remember you. And if times get better, and we decide we need more, then next time we come... You'll be welcome to come with us.”
The woman smiled. “Thanks.”
The man got up, and they both hugged. “I'll stick around long enough to help sell things around here,” the woman said. “I owe you that much. You've done so much for me.”
“Sure thing. But if you really feel like visiting the town, or seeing our friends early before we leave... We'll manage. Don't worry.”
“Just let me help one last time,” the woman said. “I really don't mind.” And with that, she walked over towards another stall, which was selling an assortment of equipment.
Philip raised an eyebrow at this. The traders had never left someone behind in towns this small before. They did it for the larger cities if times got hard, but Wickerham was so small that getting the town on the official map was the source of an argument with the officials. But they mentioned a plague... Philip thought he'd heard a rumor about something going around in Western Kine, something that officials were having trouble keeping contained... They managed it, but surely there were some casualties. Something that hit the trade caravan, something hard enough that times got tougher and someone now had to stay behind...
Intrigued by the story and the wares the woman was selling, Philip stepped towards her.
“Hi,” the woman greeted him, giving a diplomatic smile. “Were you looking for equipment? We've got some of the nicer things here. Well-maintained and lasts for years; some are straight from Lyell.”
“I am, yes,” Philip said, staring at the goods. “I'm looking for a good shovel, if you have one. One that will last for a while.”
“A shovel...” the woman thought for a moment. “I do have one, yes.” She reached down below the stand before pulling up a few shovels and laying them before Philip. She gestured towards one of the newer-looking ones, whose blade glinted in the sun. “I like this one in particular. It's strong and made from a good, solid steel, brand new. Should last for years.”
Philip examined it along with the other shovels before nodding. “It does look good,” he admitted. He pondered for a moment. “Did you make it yourself?”
“Me? No, but I helped with it,” she said. “Made sure it all fit together right. The one who crafted it originally nailed it wrong, so it wobbled.” She shook her head. “Fixed that up right away. Now it's just right.”
“You fix things?”
“Just little things.” She shrugged. “I do a little bit of everything for the caravan, just whatever comes up. And sometimes I like working with the equipment. I've got a knack for making sure things are just right.”
Philip brought his hand out. “May I?”
The woman nodded, keeping one hand on the handle as Philip put his hands on the shovel, touching it and jostling it, seeing how it reacted to certain actions. Then he nodded.
“Seems like you do have that knack,” he said with a smile. “I'll buy it.”
“Great!” she said. “This should help the caravan on their next journey.” She told him the price, and after some brief haggling, Philip began to count through his coins.
“The caravan... I couldn't help but overhear, but you aren't going with them?”
“...Oh.” She shifted in her place. “No, I'm not. It's... It's a long story, but... Well, you probably heard about the plague, haven't you?”
Philip nodded as he handed over the coins and took the shovel. “Just bits and pieces of it. I don't know too much about it, though.”
“It was bad,” the woman said solemnly. “It took out some of our traders... And then some of us had to leave for upkeep. I'm one of them. They said I could stay in one of the towns. I've always liked the quiet here; it always seemed peaceful. So I'm staying with some friends here until the caravan can afford to take me around again. I know them. They're kind. So I think I'll be fine.”
“I see.” Philip frowned. “I'm sorry for what happened to your caravan. I hope things get better for them and you; I've always enjoyed it when they come.”
The woman sighed. “Thank you. You're very kind. What's your name?”
“Philip Ryer,” he said, holding out his hand. “You?”
“Petra Quigg,” she responded with a smile, taking his hand and shaking it.
“Nice to meet you, Petra,” he said. “I need to go off and do some of my other errands. Maybe we'll see each other again?”
“Sure,” Petra agreed.
They waved at each other as Philip walked off, a new shovel in hand. It seemed like there was something more to the story that Petra wasn't telling, but Philip didn't blame her too much for that; they were still practically strangers. At least this way, Petra had a place to go, and there'd be a new face in town now.
And if she liked peace and quiet as much as she said she did, then Philip was sure that she would indeed enjoy this place.
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Post by Gelquie on Jan 17, 2015 18:47:16 GMT -5
This fic takes place between Rounds 5 and 6 of the Medieval roleplay. It is collaborated with PFA! Jailhouse Blues(Canon Collab Timeframe: Between Rounds 5 and 6 of Medieval Wordcount: ~2.8K words) Elin sat alone in her cell, leaning her head against the wall and wishing she could absorb some of the afternoon sunlight streaming through the barred cell window high above. Another interrogation had ended not too long ago, and her head throbbed from it and her lack of sleep from the previous night. It wasn't that she didn't try, and in normal circumstances, she figured that she might have been able to eventually sleep. But between what had happened, all that she knew that she had to keep secret, and her worries for Xavier and the Shadows, what would happen to her, and what she thought they might do to her while she was sleeping... The best that she could do was rest, but sleep refused to come.
She'd even tried testing the lock on the door and seeing whether it would budge. But she quickly found that she just wasn't good enough at picking locks without special equipment, and the very few improvised tools she could find just weren't good enough. She quickly stopped trying when she started worrying about the risk of having visible scratches on the door. But even if she did manage to break out... What would she do, dash for the door without a single Jade seeing her and catching her in her haste? When the room was likely guarded on the outside? When the Jades had magic?
No. She'd have to hope that an opportunity would show up if they took her somewhere, be it her execution or... She shook her head. She hoped her fellow Shadows would recognize that something was wrong, and search for her and free her. They'd have to notice eventually that she was missing and investigate. She just hoped they would get here soon. If it was safe for them.
She glanced boredly around her cell, her eyes falling upon a loaf of bread. She quickly tore her eyes away and dug her fingers into her arm to try to distract herself. Though she desperately wanted to eat, with her no longer being full from the Feast, she knew that she shouldn't. Even if it wasn't poisoned, she wasn't willing to risk the danger of it being enchanted. Something to make her talk to make her spill all the Shadows' secrets, and then... She shut her eyes tightly. It was still such a pity to waste food, but she didn't feel she had much choice. It still felt cruel that the Jades would tempt her like this.
Elin opened her eyes and glanced at the floor, wishing for any sort of distraction from her thoughts that didn't involve an interrogation.
**
Joffery Jade had a hangover.
His memories of yesterday were vague. He remembered the feast—part of him regretted not drinking enough to forget about that unfortunate event—and he remembered there was a tavern giving out free drinks, and then it was all a blur. Hopefully he didn't do anything too stupid, or his reputation could be ruined!
At least he finally felt like moving from his bed, but his headache was throbbing. He would have asked one of the mages for a pain-relieving spell, but he didn't really want to deal with being lectured on the dangers of too much drinking right now. So instead he searched the manor for some water, some herbs, anything that might help ease the pain.
One of the first places he thought to check was the basement. It seemed like a nice, secluded place, and perfect for storing things. To his surprise, when he got there, it wasn't as secluded as he thought: there was a jail cell, with an unfamiliar peasant girl sitting inside. Now that he thought on it, he remembered something about finding and capturing a rebel at the feast. He'd had other things on his mind at the time, so he'd barely acknowledged it, but now...
He realized he was staring at her. He should probably say something.
"Ah, er, pardon me," was what he came up with.
Elin warily turned her head at the sound of the door opening. Were the interrogators really coming back so soon? But it wasn't one of them. It looked to be the Jade suitor trying for Destiney's hand, although on the whole, she hadn't paid much attention to him. Did he hear about what she had confessed, and have an opinion about it? She let out a sigh.
"Not like I can stop you," Elin mumbled, glancing through the cell bars. "Why are you here? Come to lecture?"
"No, not at all! I'm just, er, passing through," Joffery told her, immediately returning his attention to the rest of the basement.
As he expected, Marson did keep a fair amount of supplies in his basement, which Joffery immediately began rifling through. Scrolls, dishes, furniture... plenty of useful things, but no headache-relieving herbs, as far as he could tell. He let out a sigh, and was about to leave, before glancing again at the prisoner. She looked rather lonely, sitting there all by herself. Prisoner or not, Joffery couldn't stand to see a young lady looking so lonely. He smiled. Perhaps he could help!
"You seem like you need your spirits lifted! Perhaps a song could help?" he offered cheerfully. Headache or not, that wasn't going to stop Joffery Jade from singing!
Elin turned her head to watch the Jade suitor as he searched, noting the kind of items he was rifling through. A part of her decided to see if there were useful materials, but she suspected that there wouldn't be anything of note. Sure enough, there wasn't. Whatever the suitor was looking for, he didn't seem to find it. Elin wasn't curious enough to try to figure out what Joffery was looking for, but his actions were mildly interesting to watch right now, and it came without interrogation, lectures, or gawking from curious less-important Jades.
But he stopped before leaving and offered her a song. Elin blinked and hesitated, wondering if she had misheard. "A-a song?" she repeated incredulously. What kind of song would she even hear? Would it be one she wanted to hear right now? She pondered for a moment before sighing. "It's not going to change anything."
"Nonsense!" Joffery replied. "I find that music always helps!"
With that, he paused, trying to think of a good song. What sort of song was appropriate to sing to a prisoner? He knew a good Courdonian song of freedom, but seeing as she was their prisoner, that would probably send the wrong message. Maybe she would appreciate a song from her homeland? Or would that give a bad impression, too? Nor was he sure where she was from in the first place...
Ugh. His headache was not helping him decide. Ultimately, he gave up on trying to pick an appropriate song, and just sang the one song that was on his mind most of all—his song for Destiney.
"Dearest princess, pure and fair, With starlit eyes and raven hair..."
Elin looked confused at first. He was at least a decent singer, but what... exactly was he singing about? She thought it might have been for her at first, but not only was it too high a compliment for a noble to give to someone like her, he quite plainly referred to a princess. He was most likely talking about Destiney. Unless... Was someone else confusing her for Destiney? How? At least Kelcey had a bump on his head to explain it, but if this man was trying to woo Destiney and confused her for Elin, he was doing a poor job at being a suitor.
...No, he was definitely singing about Destiney. To a rebel in jail no less. Maybe he was here to mock her after all. Elin let out a quiet disgruntled sigh and watched the suitor as he sung. If she did anything more than that, she might trigger some sort of trap that would lead her to getting punished or executed early, or more brutally. If help was going to come, she may as well still give them some time.
After a while, Joffery finished the song, a thoughtful look crossing his eyes. Destiney... ah, if only he'd had the opportunity to perform for her! That feast was so chaotic, and that Garrick Stallion... no, he could still salvage this somehow. He knew he could!
Though now that he had the chance to hear the song again, without all the rush and added pressure, he was having second thoughts. That one interval wasn't sitting well with him, and some of the lyrics... what a mess! Perhaps it was for the best he didn't get to perform it for Destiney. It needed some serious work.
"I look into your eyes, I take your hand in mine," he mumbled to himself, pacing as he worked through the lyrics. "I think about our future, and my heart begins to shine? No, there must be a better rhyme than that... ngh."
He rubbed his aching head, trying to fight back the headache. Suddenly he remembered why he'd come to the basement in the first place, and— oh, right, the prisoner.
"I hope that helped lift your spirits!" Joffery remarked obliviously, taking a bow. "I should be on my way, unless— any comments? Requests?"
With nothing much else to do, Elin merely watched the suitor as he serenaded his deepest heart's desire for the princess, trying her best to push the lyrics out of her mind. When he finished, he seemed to trail off, mumbling about parts of the song. Tonally, she thought it sounded good, but she mentally agreed with the disapproval of the lyrics, if for different reasons. Not that she was going to admit as much out loud.
And then he asked for comments and requests. Elin resisted the urge to raise an eyebrow. Now this had all the signs of a trap, probably something to get her further punished or interrogated. Her situation was bad enough already. She stared for a moment, pondering his question before responding.
"I'd request for you to get me out of here, but I doubt you'll do that.” She sighed. “Your singing voice is fine. But I wouldn't count on just singing getting you the throne.”
Joffery blinked at the prisoner's response. "Well, of course I won't win the throne by singing alone. There's more to winning a woman's heart than that! You have to be courteous, and personable, and..."
He trailed off in thought. That's right, this prisoner was supposed to be a rebel, wasn't she? She didn't want him to become king of Kyth; in fact, she was working to accomplish the exact opposite! Well! Joffery Jade wasn't about to let some rebel peasant dissuade him from his goal. He had a queen-to-be to impress!
"But I suppose that's not of any concern to you, is it?" he remarked, patting down his hair. "That's alright, I have more important matters to worry about."
At least she had complimented his singing. That was always a plus! Perhaps he could use this to his advantage, come back later and help improve her opinion of House Jade. Father would be so impressed! But for now, he decided, he should see if he could find something for his headache. It was too hard to come up with a good song this way, and that simply wouldn't do.
Elin only stared at Joffery as he mussed with his hair, a faint frown on her face. "Well... No, it's not. Even if you do..."
She thought for a moment before shaking her head. No matter how much of a fool Kelcey acted, she wasn't about to bring the wrath of the Houses down on him. She absently wondered if Destiney ever found out about Kelcey's change of heart, but she pushed the question out of her mind for now. "...Even if you do impress her, it's not going to matter. Not in the long run."
Not if we have anything to say about it, Elin thought to herself.
Joffery frowned at the girl's response. What did she mean, it wouldn't matter? Of course it was going to matter! It was critical in whether or not he'd get to be king, to put House Jade on the throne, to impress his father and lead Kyth into a wonderful new age... no, wait, she was a rebel. She was probably trying to dissuade him! Well, Joffery Jade wouldn't fall for that. Joffery was strong!
...Though maybe it was his chance to get some information out of her. It was perfect! His uncle would be so impressed. He resisted the urge to smile, putting on his best scowl. With any luck, she wouldn't even notice.
"What do you mean by that?" he asked, trying to sound annoyed. (It worked, since he already was a little annoyed. His headache was killing him.)
Elin merely stared back up at Joffery. He was looking down and glaring at her, but Elin found that his demeanor wasn't quite as intimidating as her interrogator's; not nearly. Still, she figured she should be careful. It could well be another trap, and even if it wasn't, saying too much more would bring the wrath of the real interrogator down upon her. After that last session, she wasn't quite ready for that. Compared to her interrogator, this form of interrogation was much more preferred if he proved to be less intimidating in words as well. Even so, she couldn't say too much, not just to keep the Shadows safe, but also herself. The less she revealed that the Jades didn't already know, the better.
Elin lay her head against the wall. "...It doesn't matter because there's someone else to take the throne."
"What?" Joffery was genuinely surprised by this information, having been too... preoccupied to pick up on it before. She was a rebel, so she probably wasn't interested in Garrick Stallion or any suitors the other Houses may have had. So she must have meant... someone besides Destiney? But she was the oldest daughter of the king! She was the only heir, unless... "Wh-what do you mean by that?"
Elin was silent for a moment, wishing that the truth spell hadn't been cast so soon, and that it didn't last as long as it did. She could still feel it pushing the answer to her brain, begging her to say it, an urge that she did her best to push back. ...But then even if she did lie, he could find out anyway just by asking another Jade, and that could mean more trouble for her. But that didn't mean she should tell the whole truth.
"...It means just what I said. There's someone else. And no, I'm not telling you who."
"What do you mean there's someone else? Is there another heir?" Joffery questioned. "But how?"
The thought of there being another heir frightened him. If there really was someone else, then what did that mean for him? Would his efforts at impressing Destiney amount to nothing? No... no, it couldn't be true. If it wasn't, his father's plans for him to become king would be moot, and he couldn't accept that.
Elin gave a blank look to Joffery. "There is one. I'm not going to tell you how because then you'll know who they are. I'm not telling you any more than your house already knows."
She wasn't going to answer him. Joffery frowned. This was going nowhere fast, and it wasn't helping his headache at all. Maybe the best thing to do for now was just to walk away.
"Fine. If you're going to be that way, then so be it," he told her. "But I'm sure we'll get the information they need. My uncle is quite good at that."
With that, he turned to leave, rubbing his aching head. Another heir... the thought of it frightened him.
Elin shut her eyes, as Joffery began to walk away. "I'll make sure he won't," she muttered.
There was too much at stake, and it was already risky letting them know there was another heir without telling the Jades their name. She was getting better at speaking around the truth-telling spell, at least. Whatever it took, no matter what they threw at her, she would keep the information secret. She promised herself that.
Elin didn't know how to feel when Joffery left. On the one hand, he was a naive suitor and she didn't much appreciate being interrogated again, even if it wasn't as forceful like what she usually receives. On the other hand, she had to admit that the singing helped break the monotony of the jailtime.
Resting her head on her shoulder while still leaning against the stone wall, she began to hum a quiet tune.
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Post by Gelquie on Jan 26, 2015 16:47:46 GMT -5
I've been working on a long fic for a long time, and it's finally complete. This is the backstory for Elin that I've been working on. All the parts had been edited into this post as I went along. Other posts were made in this thread to notify people for updates. (Dates of posting: Petitions: January 27, 2015 The Summer Sun: February 16, 2015 Nothing More: February 17, 2015 The Decision: February 22, 2015) The Famine of KineCanon Story Timeline: Varies Total Wordcount: ~17.5K words Prologue“We've got the bushels you need here,” Philip Ryer said, setting them out in front of the man. The stranger counted them, before nodding and walking up to them, picking up a few of the clusters of rye and examining them.
“Weaker than your usual, Mr. Ryer,” the man said.
“It's been a hard season,” Philip responded.
“I've been getting that a lot,” the man sighed before dropping the rye back into the baskets. “But this is fine. The Lords thank you for your service. I'll see you at the next pickup.”
“Thank you, sir,” Philip bowed his head. Then he gestured to his children. “Go help him load the cart.”
The children—three girls and one boy—complied, taking the baskets and setting them in the cart. They worked quickly, with the youngest boy being particularly eager. A little too eager, as he tried to lift a large basket by himself. The eldest child saw him and tried to stop him, but it was too late; he had already tipped the basket over, causing some of the rye to fall out.
“Ciro,” the eldest child of age eleven said with a sigh. “Just let us do that, and you just pick up the rye we drop.”
“Sorry!” the boy immediately dropped to the ground, picking up the rye.
“It's okay; we'll fix it,” the eldest child said. She lifted the basket upright before bending down to help the boy pick up the rye.
Eventually, they were able to pick up enough for the basket to be filled again, with the boy triumphantly throwing the last of the rye into the basket. “All fixed!”
The eldest child let out a small laugh. “Yup! All fixed!”
As they did this, the second and third children hefted in the last of the baskets. “There,” one of them said. “That's the last of it.”
The man wrote something in a little book of his before going to the back of the cart to secure the harvest. “Thank you very much for your cooperation,” he said. He lifted himself onto his seat and grabbed the reins. He snapped them, and the cart trundled away from the farm.
As soon as he was far enough out of sight, the smiles they were carrying faded, and they turned to each other.
“How much do we have left, dad?” the eldest child asked.
The father frowned. “Your mother's figuring that out now. She should be back soon...”
Just as he had said this, a lithe, dark woman strode towards them, a concerned look on her face. “Is it done?”
“Yes Petra, it's done,” Philip said. “What's wrong?”
“I just finished checking...” Petra's mouth curved into a frown. “We... We're down half as much as we had last year.”
Philip's eyes went wide. “Are you serious?”
“I wish I wasn't.”
The whole Ryer family was silent. It was a while before one spoke.
“...Are we going to have to eat less?” the eldest child asked.
There was a pause. “...Yes, Elin,” the father said. “Yes you are.”
“Well maybe it'll be okay,” Elin started hopefully. “I don't need to eat all the time. Then it'll get better by the next crop, right?”
The father frowned, looking out at the field. Even with the hope in the child's voice, there was a tone of doubt in it. The food they had given to the taxman had indeed been alright; they had to give him their best. But the crops on the field were beginning to wilt, and looked more pitiful, and the food in their own stores were worse. They didn't harvest everything, but the crops they had remaining made the Ryers worry.
The mother bit her lip as the father finally spoke.
“It'll be better if we get rain. If not... We'll have to prepare for a very hard winter.” Petitions - Part 1<Four Years Ago>
It was getting worse at the Ryer farm. Limited crops and small fires that they had to quickly stamp out diminished their food supply. During the summer just two short months ago, the whole town was choking from heavy smoke, and though the worst of it disappeared quickly, it took some time for it to completely dissipate. In that time, the Ryers were forced to slow their work as they struggled to breathe, leaving them all sounding hoarse even after the smoke was gone.
The dry, hot, and smoky conditions were taking a toll on the animals too. Although the Ryers normally had a few goats to help stave off hunger, they were gradually dying off, and now they were down to their last goat. He was a middle-aged, weak goat named Hector. The Ryers didn't know how much longer he would last.
Mostly though, the Ryers were hoping that none of them would drop dead.
They were at the table, having breakfast made of what they could find or scavenge. No amount of food that they found could ever quite satiate them. Especially not Elin. The young girl was nearly 13, and though she hadn't yet hit puberty, it was clear that she was on the cusp of it. Her parents wished there was more they could do and give to her or the rest of the children, but there was nothing much they could do.
“Is this really everything?” Elin mumbled, holding up a turnip and scanning it, her fingers running over the smooth surface. “I know it's bad, but it's a lot less.”
“That's because it is,” Petra said. “The tax collector will be here soon for the lords' share of crop. We had to cut into our supply in order to meet it.”
“Really?” Elin sighed. “But we're suffering here. And they're nobles. Surely they have enough food to let us be for a while?”
“You'd think so,” Philip said. “But the farmers are the primary food providers. They're dependent on us for the food they do have.”
“Maybe, but they're not the ones working,” Elin said.
“Not like we are,” Nina agreed.
The parents were quiet for a moment, staring at each other. Finally, Petra sighed. “I know, but there's nothing we can do about it. How much they collect is entirely up to them.”
“But how do they know how much we still need to live?” Elin pondered aloud. Then she paused. “...Maybe they don't. Maybe someone needs to tell them.”
“Elin, I don't think that'd do much good,” Petra said with a sigh.
“It can't hurt to ask, right?” Elin asked. “They're the ones supposed to protect us. They have to care.”
“It's a long trip, Elin,” Petra said.
“It'd be worth it if it makes things easier for us,” Elin protested.
Philip looked around at his family, the way they hunched over the table, the way they were collecting every single particle of food that fell onto the table or the floor, not wanting to waste anything, no matter how insignificant. He frowned.
“...It might be a long shot,” Philip said. “And I don't know what good it'd do. But maybe Elin's right. We could go to Lord Charol and ask him. I can go if you don't want to, Petra. The rest of you can stay to work the farm; make sure we're ready in any case.”
Elin bit her lip, her brow furrowed with thought. “...Father, I want to go with you.”
“Elin no,” Petra said. “It'll be hard enough with just one of you traveling. I don't want anyone to risk getting hurt.”
“I won't get hurt,” Elin argued. “I want to help convince them. Maybe I'll come up with something father can't. Besides... I want to see what it's like in those keeps, and see how they help us. I want to do something.”
The mother frowned, as if uncertain about what she was saying, but not willing to completely discount her point. Finally, she sighed. “I guess if your father's okay with you coming. Are you, Philip?”
“Well...” Philip sighed. “I'd rather there be fewer of us traveling... But if you really want to go, I won't stop you.”
“Great!” Elin smiled before turning back to her turnip and taking a bite. “Maybe we can find food along the way too so we don't have to worry as much about what we eat on the farm.”
“Maybe,” Philip sighed. “But Elin, I don't want you taking anything from other farms. They're suffering just as we are.”
“Oh, I know,” Elin said. “I was just thinking of anything wild that we can eat that we find.”
“I doubt we'll find anything like that, not with the drought and all the wildfires we had,” Philip said. “But if we do, then sure.”
“Philip,” Petra suddenly spoke up, turning to her husband. “What will you do if Lord Charol says no? You're not going to try anything else, are you?”
Philip pondered. “...If we think of another way to get the nobles to help us, we might try it. But if not, we shouldn't be gone too long.” He turned to Elin. “We'll leave tomorrow morning. Make sure you're ready by then.”
“I will,” Elin said. “Not too much to bring.”
And indeed, there wasn't. By the next morning, Elin was ready fairly quickly, with nothing but a straw hat on her head and a nearly empty knapsack with the few pieces of food they could spare inside. Philip wore a pack with similar contents, but with a few more materials for first aid and a waterskin that they agreed to share.
“You're sure about this?” Petra asked Elin at the door.
“I've already told you I am,” Elin said. “I want to go. Maybe we can find something that will help.”
“Well, just...” Petra wrapped Elin in a hug. “Be safe. Don't exert yourself too much. And come back as soon as you can, okay?”
“We will,” Elin said, returning the hug.
“Daddy, Elin,” a small voice cried out, and a young boy about the age of 6 walked up to catch up to them. “Be okay, don't die.”
Philip let out a small, weary chuckle. “Don't worry Ciro; we'll be careful.”
“And when I come back,” Elin said, kneeling down to Ciro's level. “I'll tell you all about what happened. You and Nina and Mari. We'll be okay, and we'll make things better for all of us.”
Ciro sighed. “Okay. You better! There's no more fire nights and so no stories, so you gotta make up for it!”
“I will, I promise,” Elin said, hugging her little brother. “See you, Ciro.”
“Bye bye!” Ciro said, patting Elin on the back. Then he broke from her and went to hug his father, who returned the hug.
“We're not planning to be too long,” Philip said as he placed a straw hat on his head. “We'll be back before you know it.” He looked up at Petra. “Are the other two coming to see us gone?”
“Nah, they're asleep,” Petra said. “I'll wake them up soon, though. Better to get the work done before the sun is too high in the sky. They can nap later.”
“Sounds good,” Philip grinned before hugging Petra. “See you.”
“See you,” Petra said.
With that, Philip and Elin turned and walked out the door, beginning their journey to the town of Canchim.
**
“Please, you have to do something!” Elin cried.
“I've told you,” Lord Charol said. “All I can do is try to send relief carts in the direction of your town and the towns you've passed. That is when or if we get them. But I can't make the tribute rates any lower than they already are.”
“But there's only so much we can do to meet it,” Philip said. “Eventually, we'll be working from tribute to tribute, and we can't afford to lose our farm.”
“And I told you, I can't help you,” Charol sighed. “We're minor lords compared to Lord Miller; he's the final say on how much we can really do to help you. And he doesn't want rates to be any lower than that.”
“But can't you make an exception?” Elin asked.
“No, I can't. And that's just the way things are.” Lord Charol put his chin into his hand. “If you want to try to bring it up to Lord Miller, you're more than welcome to.”
“Can't you do it?” Philip asked. “You're the one closer to him.”
“I can't travel to Hereford at this time,” Lord Charol replied. “Not for another few months. And even then, if you want him to listen to you, you're going to have to be pretty convincing.”
Elin frowned at this. “The fact that we're starving isn't enough?”
“Look, I'm sorry, I can't help you further,” Lord Charol said. “If you really want to argue, you should make plans to travel to Hereford. If you somehow manage to convince him, then I'll lower the tribute rate.”
Elin opened her mouth to argue, but Philip spoke up first. “Thank you, Lord Charol,” he said. “We'll do that.”
With that, he gestured for Elin to follow before beginning to walk out. Elin hesitated, looking back at Lord Charol before following.
“Nothing he can do, I mean, really?” Elin muttered. “There's nothing we can do either. I can't believe he can't do anything.”
“He's only a minor noble, Elin,” Philip said. “He's not the ultimate authority.”
“But he's a noble at all,” Elin muttered. “He could still do something.”
Philip sighed. “Look. We'll do what he asks. We'll travel to Hereford and talk to him. Maybe it'll help.”
Elin was silent for a moment as they walked out the doors of the manor before looking up at her father. “That's all we can do?” she asked.
“I'm afraid so,” Philip said. “But it might be worth something if it'll help us be fed. Maybe we can hitch a ride on a cart to make our journey easier.”
Elin paused before nodding. “Alright... It guess it's something.”
Philip gave Elin a small smile. “Hey. We still have a chance. Just think about what you'll say to Miller before we get there.”
“Alright,” Elin sighed. “He'll still want to help us, shouldn't he? Maybe it'll be okay. I still don't get why Charol can't help us... But I'll think of something that'll really convince him. I promise.”
Philip gave a small smile. “Great. Now let's see if there are any carts going to Hereford that they'll let us ride in.” Petitions - Part 2“My lord?” One of the servants of Booveen Manor approached Lord Miller warily. The Booveen lord had always had a foul attitude, and times of crisis only made his demeanor worse, and made him very impatient even during his open hours for petitions. The situation with the famine was no different. So the servant knew they had to be careful with their wording to not further upset the lord.
“What is it?” Lord Miller asked, exasperation in his voice.
“There's some farmers here to see you,” the servant said. “They want to talk about food distribution and the taxes on them and their village in Wickerham.”
Lord Miller grunted. “Wickerham is Lord Charol's domain. They should petition him first.”
“They told me they did, but that Charol couldn't do enough, and that they had to talk to you if they wanted to do more.”
Lord Miller sighed. “Lord Charol should have been able to do more than enough.”
“They...” the servant gulped. “They don't think so, my lord.”
“Of course they don't,” Lord Miller scowled. “Fine, send them in; let's get this over with.”
The servant bowed and made their way to a side door. They opened it and led two people out. The clap of worn-down shoes filled the hall as Philip and Elin entered side by side. Both were thin and ragged, and looked tired from their journey, but there was no mistaking the determined look in their eyes. Their posture sagged for a moment as they stopped in front of the Lord before they remembered themselves, but they couldn't quite stand upright.
“Lord Booveen,” the father started. “I'm Philip Ryer, of Wickerham. And this is my daughter, Elin. We humbly come before your--”
“Get on with it,” Lord Miller grunted. “The servant already told me why you were here. Why couldn't Lord Charol help you?”
“Well... Because they couldn't do enough,” Philip said. “They said that how the food is distributed is largely determined by you, and that if we wanted them to give us a bigger break on our taxes, we had to go to you.”
“Hmm,” Lord Miller started. “So you want me to change how I'm distributing the food coming from the peasants.”
“Yes,” the father said. “With respect, my Lord, we don't have enough. We--”
“We're starving,” the young girl cracked out, interrupting her father. “Everyone is. Our family, our town, the other towns, it's bad. Please you need to help us.”
Lord Miller frowned before turning to Philip. “Did you only bring your daughter out of pity?”
“I came because I wanted to come,” the girl protested. “I wanted to--”
“I asked him,” Lord Miller pointed to Philip. The young girl scowled, and looked like she was about to speak again, but her father spoke up first.
“She insisted on coming,” Philip said. “She wanted to see what the other places were like, and to help me talk to you.”
“It won't help,” Miller said. “Because there's nothing I can do.”
Philip blinked. “But you haven't even heard what--”
“Look, you're not the only peasants to come to me on this matter,” Miller scowled. “The fact that you can can come all this way shows that you can't be that bad off.”
“We rode. And we came this way because we're desperate,” Philip responded.
“But you can come this way at all,” Miller grumbled. “And besides, the famine's bad for everyone. There isn't enough to go around to spare anything extra for people like you.”
Elin scowled as he said this, feeling anger boiling inside of her, but unable to find any words to say.
“We're the ones giving you food,” Philip intervened before Elin could have the chance. “Can't we have some clemency so we can take care of ourselves?”
“I've already figured this out,” Miller said, waving a hand. “No one's happy about this famine, and I'm not either. But we need the food going to areas that will keep Kine stable. We can't make everyone happy, and you know it. And you're the ones living on a farm with direct access to food, so if anything, you would be the best off.”
“That doesn't mean much with the lords taxing us as they are,” Philip said. “If we don't pay, we're penalized on the next tribute, assuming we don't lose our farm. And right now, we're giving too much.”
“You're giving only a portion of your food, which I've already cut because of this famine; you should still have enough to feed your own family.”
“But we don't, that's what we're trying to tell you,” the girl argued.
“I cut it much more, and there won't be enough for others. You're not the only one making sacrifices,” Miller said. But the girl stared at him as she said this, looking up and down at the form of the Lord of Booveen, a scowl on her thin face.
“B-but that's not fair!” the girl cried again. “Look at you, then look at us! We're doing so much already, a-and you're just sitting there!”
“Elin...” Philip warned, but it was too late.
“Don't patronize me,” Miller snapped. “I'm doing my own share, and I've already tried to make this fair. I told you that you're not the only farmers to come to me, and I told you I've already thought about this. We've cut your taxes and there are relief carts around Kine; we can't do anything more.”
“With respect, my Lord, there has to be something,” Philip said. “I can't pretend I know what your work is like, but there might be something you haven't considered that'll help us.”
“I doubt it,” Miller said.
“Please, the fact is that we are starving,” Philip argued.
“So is everyone,” Miller said.
“I doubt it,” Elin grumbled to herself quietly, glaring at the Lord of Booveen.
Miller scowled. “I told you already there's nothing more I can do without keeping too much food from others who need it. If you don't have anything more to suggest that's helpful, then we're done here.” He turned to the servant standing nearby. “Escort them out.”
The servant merely bowed his head, a frown on his face as he walked up to the Ryers and motioned for them to follow. The Ryers seemed to hesitate for a moment, with Philip keeping a hand on his daughter's shoulder. Finally, Philip sighed.
“For the sake of all of us, I beg you to at least think about it,” Philip said. And then he and Elin followed the servant out.
As the door closed behind them and the servant walked them to the front of the keep, Elin growled.
“It's not fair!” she complained. “He doesn't even look hungry! Does he know how to be fair?”
“Elin...” Philip warned, his hand still on her shoulder. He couldn't help but glance around at the people passing them by as they walked down the hallway. “He says he's done what he's can. And who knows, maybe our words will get through to him. Sometimes it takes time.”
Elin scowled, staring at the ground. “It's not enough...” she muttered, her pace slowing. “He'd be helping us better if he'd just listen.”
“Please, Elin,” Philip said. “Not here. But we've done our best, we've said what we could. There's nothing more we can do.”
Elin didn't respond to this, and merely looked away. They were silent for some time until they finally reached the door, which the servant opened.
“Here you are,” the servant finally said. “Have a safe journey back. ...And for what it's worth, I'm sorry. I wish more could be done. Good luck.”
“...Thank you,” Philip said. With that, he led the pouting Elin out the door into the morning sunlight. The servant sighed as he shut the door behind them, leaving him alone.
“Really,” he said. “I do.” Petitions - Part 3Petra was sitting on the ground just outside, sorting the food she gathered into the basket when she saw two figures approaching. She squinted as she lowered her hat to better block the sun, trying to make out who they could be. The taller figure waved, and soon, Petra was able to recognize them. She breathed a sigh of relief.
“Thank goodness,” she mumbled as she waved back at them, smiling. As much as she wanted to shout their names and run up to them and hug them, she held back. Weary from hunger, she knew that she couldn't expend too much energy. So she waited for them to come closer before addressing them.
“I was about to wonder where you've gone,” Petra said. “Oh, I'm so glad you're both okay.”
“We're not,” Elin sighed, looking away.
“What?” Petra got up this time, putting a hand on Elin's shoulder. “Are you hurt? Did you get sick again?”
“No, I'm fine... Sort of.” Elin sighed. “They're not helping us.”
“What?” Petra breathed. “Not even a little bit?”
“Lord Charol promised to send a relief cart our way next time he sees one,” Philip said.
“Oh. Well, that's good, at least,” Petra said.
“But it's not enough,” Elin muttered. “They refused to lower the tribute at all.”
“Elin, who's 'they'?” Petra asked. “Did you two go to more than one noble?”
“We did,” Philip confirmed. “ Charol told us that he couldn't lower the tribute anymore himself and told us to go see Lord Miller.”
“Practically waved us away,” Elin muttered. “Both of them. Miller, he... He didn't even care. We tried talking to him and explaining our problems and he decided not to help us at all.”
“Elin, he did say he had a lot of visitors,” Philip said. “He also said that he couldn't distribute it any--”
“Oh father, don't tell me you believe that,” Elin clenched her fist. “Compared to us, they looked great, ready for anything. Not starving nearly as much as we were. Something has to be wrong, and he doesn't care.”
Suddenly, Elin clenched her side and winced. Both of the parents looked at her with concern.
“Elin, are you alright?” Petra asked.
“Just hungry,” Elin muttered. “Like always.”
“We did have a long trip,” Philip said, frowning.
“We should still have some rations on the table, and a little water to spare,” Petra said. “Go on in and eat. And... Thanks for trying.”
“We'll have to make due with what we have,” Philip said. “Thanks Petra.” With that, he strode in with Elin. He looked over at Elin, who now had a concerned frown on her face. He knew the concerned frown quite well; it was the same look Petra would wear when she was worried, as she often was.
“Dad,” Elin muttered, looking up at him. “Can we make due with what we have?”
Philip glanced over to the table as they walked in, a scant amount food available. Nevertheless, he patted Elin's shoulder.
“We've gotten this far,” he said. “We still have enough to live, if not comfortably. That terrible smoke is gone now. Besides, we're Ryers and the Ryers before us have lived on this farm for generations, enduring famines of their own. We've always stuck together. And we've always survived.”
Elin looked at her father's frame up and down, unable to deny his uncharacteristically thin figure, or any of their own. Philip seemed to sense this, and he squeezed her shoulder.
“We'll keep trying and rationing. And it might get better from here. We'll get through this. We'll make sure of it.”
Elin sighed and nodded as she sat down at the table, but she said nothing more, focusing on her food and losing as few crumbs as possible. When they finished, they didn't move from the table, allowing themselves the rest from their journey.
But Elin couldn't help but still be slightly worried. Especially when only a week later, her mother came in and asked the family to help butcher Hector, who had just dropped dead from exhaustion. (Content warning: The rest of this story will be heavy on topics of life and death. Read at your own discretion.)The Summer Sun<Three Years Ago>
It was a hot, humid day in Kine, and most of the Ryers were indoors. They knew they had to trek out eventually to find some sort of food beyond the scant scraps that they had, and someone had to draw in water from the well. But no one wanted to move, preferring to sit in the shade and wait for the hours to go by.
Finally though, Elin forced herself up, her thin arms up on the table for support as her knees shook. Her younger sister, Mari, was sitting along the opposite wall, and she watched Elin lazily.
“You're not going to find anything,” Mari said wearily.
“I've got to try,” Elin said. “We find something sometimes.”
“It's not worth it,” Mari mumbled. “Should just wait.”
“For what? Wait for help?” Elin grumbled. “We tried that. He won't let up on the tax. We have to fend for ourselves. I can't do that by sitting around.”
Mari slumped her head against the wall. “Nicer to sit though. Colder. No sun.” Mari closed her eyes.
Elin frowned. It was excessively hot out; Mari did have a point about that. For a moment, she was tempted to join Mari in the dark and just lie down again. A sharp pain in her stomach responded, reminding her that she didn't even remember the last time she ate or drank anything. She clenched it and took a sharp breath. She knew it might be a bad idea going out now... But at the same time, she desperately needed something.
“...I'm just gonna look for a bit,” Elin said blearily. “There's got to be something.”
Mari didn't reply. She just opened her eyes and slowly blinked at Elin. Before she could change her mind, Elin slowly made her way out the door. She passed Nina, who was sitting at the table with her parents. Nina looked over to Elin.
“Trying again?” Nina asked.
“Yeah,” Elin replied.
“You should just wait for night,” Nina said. “Cooler that way.”
“I at least want water. And I want it before the sun takes it.”
“Well, bring me back some.”
“I'll bring enough.”
“Elin, be careful; it's too hot outside,” another voice said. Her mother. Elin looked over to her as she grabbed one of the straw hats nearby.
“I won't be long. Promise.” With that, Elin put on the hat and went out the already-open doorway
True to her mother's word, it was hot outside, even in the late afternoon of the late June day. Elin immediately made her way towards the nearest shaded area. She normally didn't mind the heat, but after having only scant food and water and no hope left for help, she wasn't about to exert herself in the sun any more than she had to.
She walked from shaded area to shaded area, occasionally searching the dried farmland below her in search of some crops still out in the field. Occasionally, she did find some, and she put them in the pocket of her dress. But it wasn't much. And she knew if she took too much, they wouldn't have enough to pay the taxman anyway, and then they'd demand more, or worse, take their home. They'd have nothing left. They wouldn't make the trip to Medieville before they'd run out of food. And even then, Aunt Clare was hit hard by the famine too, with animals getting sicker, thinner, and dying off, and then there was the competition she had. While Clare could afford to occasionally send some monetary help, she couldn't possibly afford to feed all of them. Even if she could and the Ryers could afford to relocate, Medieville was weeks away, and risky with their weak states, few rations, and the heat of the sun. At least at the farm, they had something left to hold on to, and thus some hope of survival if they were careful.
After a disappointing few moments of foraging, Elin made her way towards the well on the other side of the field. It wasn't a great well, and nowadays, it was hard to get much water from it. But it was something.
She didn't notice until she got closer that there was someone else near the well. A small figure. Elin squinted her eyes, trying to make out the shape before she realized who it was.
“Ciro?” Elin called out.
There was no answer, but as Elin got closer, she could see the small 7-year-old boy tugging on a rope, trying with great but ineffective effort to tug the bucket to the top of the well. Elin hurried over and took the rope from Ciro.
“Ciro, you know you're too young to do this,” Elin said. “You should just ask one of us.”
“Weren't gonna,” Ciro muttered quietly and hoarsely.
“We can't go all the time, it's too hot out. Now, I'll get water, but we have to save it, okay?”
There was no answer.
“Okay?” Elin repeated before looking over to Ciro.
Like everyone else in the Ryer family, everyone was run ragged by the famine and looked thin, worn, and weary. But something looked particularly off with Ciro right now. His face was matted with sweat, his eyes were unfocused, and he was breathing deeply and raggedly.
“...Ciro?” Elin said quietly, her voice edged with worry.
“...Wa... Water...” he wearily stated. Elin looked on in concern as he swayed on the spot, letting out a weak shudder before falling to the ground.
“Ciro?!” Elin looked over the young boy and tried to turn him around. Ciro was unresponsive, and merely lay still.
“Ciro, that's not funny. Get up,” Elin said, trying to shake him. A part of her was hoping that this was another joke, another way to get attention, before proceeding to get up and tease her for being dramatic.
But there was no smile, no subtlety in his movements. Once more, he didn't respond.
Elin quickly got up and tugged the rope as hard as she could. The bucket came into sight, partially filled with some water, and Elin took it and set it next to Ciro.
“Ciro? Ciro, I've got water here!” Elin said quickly and hoarsely. “C'mon, you even get first dibs. You beat me to it. Now get up?”
The silence destroyed any last remnant of doubt that something was seriously wrong.
”...Ciro?”
***
”Oh my goodness! Elin, how long has he been out there?!” Came Petra's cry as Elin pushed herself through the doorway, barely keeping the young unconscious boy in her arms.
“I don't know!” Elin replied quickly as she quickly moved to a shaded spot, her face glistening with sweat. “I just found him by the well!”
“Did he wander again?” Mari mumbled, looking up at Elin from where she lay.
Meanwhile, Nina turned her head, taking in the situation as Elin leaned against the shaded wall with Ciro in her arms.
“I thought you were the one watching him,” Nina said, a grumble in her voice.
“I'm sorry! I didn't know he'd be out, Nina!” Elin retorted.
“But you're the big sister,” Nina retorted back, lifting her head up this time, leveling a frown at Elin.
“So? No one else saw him go!”
“You're always the one fretting about us!”
“Because you give me reason to! At least someone found him!”
“If you just watched him in the first place, no one would have to!”
“Nina, Elin, stop it! I can't do this right now!” Petra screamed at them, not bothering to hide the worry in her hoarse voice.
Petra's declaration stunned the two sisters into silence as they stared at each other, their eyes narrowed. But as Elin slumped and Nina took a breath, they seemed to both decide that it wasn't a fight worth continuing.
“Hey. It was no one's fault, okay?” Mari spoke up, attempting to dispel the tension. As she did, she gave a worried look to her little brother.
“...Right,” Elin let out a sigh as she tried to push herself upright again. “Let's get him into bed.”
“Yeah, okay,” Nina agreed, getting up and walking over to help Elin carry Ciro.
“I'll get the water,” Petra said. “He... He needs it more than we do right now.”
“Is he going to be okay?” Mari asked.
For a moment, no one could answer, and Elin's mouth only curved as she and her sister shouldered Ciro, and her father walked over to help support them. Petra, meanwhile, only stared at them with a frown as she poured the water into a jug, not making eye contact with Mari.
“...Is he?” Mari asked again, her voice pleading.
There was another moment as silence as Elin, Nina, and Philip began to carry Ciro to the bedroom that the children shared. As they neared it, Elin spoke something barely audible.
“...I hope so.” Nothing More(Content warning in this spoiler box:
Content warning for child death )The next few days passed by in a blur, but on the day that Ciro first collapsed, the tension in the air changed. Weariness and worry for their lack of food and well-being mutated into concern over Ciro. The young boy did not wake up at all for the rest of that day, and it was only his pulse and his shallow breathing that informed the rest of the Ryer family that he was alive. Each family member took the opportunity to take care of the boy, but with the shortage of food and water balanced with their own concerns, there was only so much anyone could do. And his condition only grew worse and worse.
“Ciro...” Elin said, her eyes heavy with fatigue as she shook his thin, small, and frail form, which lay nearly naked on top of the ragged blanket. “Ciro, please, get up.”
He didn't get up right away, only turned, his breathing shallow. Elin swallowed.
“Ciro... Ciro, you need water. I can't give it to you asleep.”
“Elin?” came a voice from outside the door. Elin didn't turn around; she knew it was the voice of her mother.
“...He won't wake up,” she said. “He's breathing and he needs water and his skin's so dry and he won't wake up...”
Elin felt a hand on her shoulder. “I know,” her mother said, her voice hoarse from dehydration. “But Elin, you need to eat too. We can spare some of turnips today, and you still need to drink some water. You need to eat a little bit now so we can spare some later.”
Elin shook her head. “No... I-I can't. Not with him like this. Give Ciro the food. I'll be fine.”
“Elin.” Her mother's tone became firmer, firm enough that it made Elin's head turn to the thin, lithe form of her mother. “I'm glad you're helping care for him, and I wish I could do more myself. But you're tiring yourself out, and I'm worried you're getting sick again.”
“I'm not,” Elin mumbled. “Not like usual anyway.”
“Don't make it worse,” her mother said. “We'll keep some food ready for Ciro, and I'll let you feed it to him the next time he wakes up, but only if you come eat now. I don't want you to drop either, Elin...”
Elin took one more glance at Ciro before sighing and getting up, silently consenting to her mother's wishes.
What's it matter, though, Elin thought as she stared at the plate of a few tiny, chopped turnips and the half-filled cup of water pressed into her hands. If everything we have is barely enough?
***
Elin was leaning against the bed where Ciro lay, having dozed off herself. She felt a rustling of the bedding against her side, and that combined with the sound made her slowly lift her head.
“Ciro...?”
She looked up to see Ciro looking at her through half-opened eyes, barely awake.
“Ciro!” Elin's voice went hoarse as she said it, and she got up to grab the water from the bedside. She tried not to stare into the tiny cup, resisting the urge to gulp it all down herself as she brought it back to Ciro, carefully placing her cup near Ciro's lip, trying to keep her hand steady. “Here, here's some water. Th-that's what you wanted.”
Ciro only stared at it before turning his head to Elin.
“...Ciro, please,” Elin said. “You need to drink.”
“W-water...?” a whisper came from the boy's lips.
“Yes! Water. It's for you. You can have all of it. Just drink it.”
“Water... Water gone...”
“No, Ciro, the water's not gone.”
“Gone... Me.”
“No Ciro, you're not going to be gone.”
“What's going on in-- Ciro?”
Nina had walked in behind them. Elin didn't look back at her. “He won't drink it. He's awake but he won't drink it.”
“Can't you make him drink it?” Nina asked.
“No, I don't want him to choke,” Elin said.
“He won't if you do it slow,” Nina said.
“Ciro, come on,” Elin urged, hoping she wouldn't have to follow Nina's plan. But Ciro only blinked.
Nina sighed. “Hold his head up.”
“Nina, this is risky,” Elin said.
“So is him not drinking,” Nina retorted. “Now tilt his head up.”
Elin stared for a moment at Ciro, but then sighed and brought his head forward. She couldn't help but notice how limp it felt, as if her hand was the only thing keeping him up, but she was relieved to feel the faint trace of a pulse on his neck. Nina took the cup from Elin's hand and pushed it to Ciro's lips.
“J-just don't go too fast,” Elin warned. Nina didn't reply, only slowly tilted the water into Ciro's mouth. Some of the water made it in, but then some of it began to fall out the sides of his mouth. Elin's eyes went wide at the sight.
“Stop,” Elin said. Nina was quick to comply and she brought the cup away. She moved her free hand down to try to catch some of the escaped water in her hands, which she then sipped. Elin put her other hand under Ciro's chin and closed his mouth to prevent any more water from escaping.
“Come on...” Elin said. “Swallow...”
It took some time, but Elin felt a weak motion in his neck that felt like swallowing before hearing him take a breath. Elin let out a sigh of relief.
“Good,” Elin said. “But he needs more. Slower this time, Nina--”
But Ciro's eyes had begun to droop again.
“No! No, Ciro, just a little longer...”
But it was in vain, and soon Ciro had fallen asleep again. Elin tried shaking him, but once more, he didn't wake up, and merely breathed quietly. Nina began moving her cup closer to Ciro before Elin put out a hand.
“No,” Elin said. “He can't drink while asleep, I already tried. He just chokes.”
Nina was silent for a moment before sighing. “Well, he got something,” she said.
Elin shook her head. “Not enough.”
***
It was a very hot day that day. The sun was high in the sky, and the Ryers could feel the heat pounding on their skin. They spent what time they could to tend to the crops, ensuring that they wouldn't dry out and destroy what food they had left. They worked as quickly as they could, hoping to be finished before the sun was too high in the sky, and when they did, they were all quick to return to the house and relish the shade and what little water they had.
At one point, Elin had returned to the childrens' bedroom with a cloth ready to wipe Ciro's forehead. They had been careful to keep him in a part of the room with shade, but she was sure the heat was doing him no favors anyway. As she walked in, she saw that Ciro was already awake.
“A-ah...” Ciro said hoarsely, barely audible, no higher than whisper.
Elin quickly sat down by his side. “What is it?”
“I-I...” his voice cracked, and he could only mouth the next few words.
“...Water, get water!” Elin called out hoarsely. Then she turned back to Ciro, speaking more quietly. “It's okay. We'll get you water.”
Ciro did the faintest shake of his head. Elin blinked.
“Ciro, you need water,” Elin said. “That's what you've wanted. You need it.”
Elin heard footsteps behind her, and Ciro only stared at them all.
“It's okay Ciro,” she said. “We'll help you.”
Ciro only continued to stare at them before his eyes drooped.
“It's not time to go to sleep,” Elin said.
“Just stay up a little more,” she heard Nina's voice say.
“Water's good for you,” came Mari's voice.
“Ciro, no...” her mother.
“K-keep him awake,” her father said.
Elin leaned forward, trying to bring his head up, and she saw her mother bring her hand over and place it under his back. As they did so, they seemed to simultaneously realize something, and they gave each other a look, saying nothing but their eyes saying everything on their minds.
“...Ciro, no, please, just a little longer...” Elin said.
Ciro's breathing was shallow and raggedy, and he took turns looking at each family member before letting his eyes close.
”Ciro!” her mother shouted in desperation.
His breathing slowed... and then Elin felt it through the hand on his neck. The rhythmic breathing came to a halt, and soon after, so did the faint pulse in his neck.
“No...” Elin whispered. She could only stare at him as she let her hand slowly drop to return his head to the bed. ”No...”
“...Elin, keep his head up,” Mari said.
Elin froze. “H-he...” She gulped and looked up at her mother, who was staring in shock at Ciro. Then her face scrunched up.
“Ciro...” Her mother said with a choked sob. She tried to say more, but the words couldn't come to her lips, and Elin found that a response couldn't come to hers either. But their silence spoke enough to the rest of the Ryer family.
The room went quiet and tense, no one's eyes leaving the form of the seven year old boy, now lying prone on the bed as his mother leaned over him, her breathing ragged and uneven. It was a long time before anything else happened, when Mari finally began to fill the silence with her own sobs. But no one shed a tear.
They didn't have any to spare.
***
The rest of the Ryer family watched in silence as their father worked, pressing his foot into the steel shovel into the earth and throwing dirt into a pile near him. No one turned their eyes to the corpse behind them; they knew they would have to at some point, but not right now; it was too painful to bear.
Some time passed, and the dusk had only grown darker, but soon Philip had finished digging a small grave, and he put the shovel to the side. Petra and Elin grabbed his hands and helped pull him up. He grabbed the shovel and stuck it into the pile of dirt.
Petra was right, all those years ago. It was a good shovel. He just wished that he never had to use it for this.
They stared at the open grave for a moment, at first not wanting to move. But finally, they relented, and Philip moved back and picked up the boy, limp in his arms. Everyone watched for a moment in silence before Mari stepped forward and tugged one her father's arm.
“Daddy, wait,” Mari said. “Shouldn't we get hay for him?”
The father looked down at her. “Why?”
“Well, if he's gonna be sleeping in there forever, he should at least be comfy.”
The father looked down, at first frowning. But then he nodded. “...Alright,” he said, his voice void of any argument.
“We'll be right back,” Elin said. And the three sisters went off to gather some hay. They returned shortly after from the barn, little stacks of hay in their arms, which they proceeded to scatter into the open grave. Soon, Mari was satisfied, although her face was flat of emotion.
“There. Now Ciro will sleep better.”
The father picked up the young boy again and stepped back inside the grave before gently laying him down. A tuft of hair had gotten in his eyes, and Philip moved his hand to move it from his face. Then he stood up, facing away from the rest of the family and still staring down at Ciro, unmoving.
“...Philip?” Petra whispered, her voice strained as she reached out and put a hand on his shoulder.
Philip turned his head ever so slightly, and the children were surprised to see the despondency in his face as he stared up at Petra. He looked like he was about to cry, and likely would were it not for his dried-out eyes. But soon, he lowered his head again, trying to keep a straight face as he began to step out of the grave again with Petra's help. They embraced, and Elin heard a faint sob escape from Petra.
“...Kids...” she said quietly, her voice breaking. “...You should say goodbye to Ciro. Take turns.”
The sisters looked at each other, and Mari silently volunteered to go first. She stepped forward, kneeling by the grave.
“...Bye bye, Ciro. I'll always miss you. I loved playing with you and being your big sister. I guess I'm youngest now. That's kind of odd. ...Well, you're more comfy now, now you'll sleep good. Dream of us, okay?”
She got up and walked away, her head down until she turned around, facing the grave again. Next was Nina, the middle sister, who also walked forward to the grave.
“Hey Ciro. It's too bad what happened. You didn't deserve this. We did what we could, but... Well, that's all we could do. ...But I guess Mari's right. At least you're at peace now. And you'll always be here, in a way. So... Sleep well.”
Nina got up and walked away. Elin gulped. Ready or not, it was her turn. The eldest child walked forward and kneeled by the grave, but found herself unable to look down at the boy at first.
“...Ciro... I'm sorry. I... We tried. Tried to save you. Because... Nina's right. You really didn't deserve this. You... You deserve better...” Elin paused for a short time as her face scrunched up, and she took a moment to compose herself before finally looking down at the boy's peaceful form. “...Even if it's the last time I ever see you... I won't forget you. None of us will. I'll make sure of it.”
Elin took one last look at Ciro before tearing her eyes away, walking back towards the other sisters. The parents had finally composed themselves, and they took one look down at Ciro. They nodded, and the mother moved over and kneeled by the grave.
“Ciro,” the mother said, her voice still tenuous. “We will always remember you. I'll always remember your little games, your little jokes... And the joy we felt when you first came to our family...” The mother had to stop and put a hand to her mouth, a few stray tears running down her face. “...We'll find a way to live. We'll try. You just... keep up your games and jokes, wherever you end up. Always be you. We'll keep you in our hearts, we always will...”
The mother got up and walked away, nodding to her husband before joining her daughters. Mari took her mother's hand, glancing up at her before looking back at the grave. And finally, it was the father's turn, and he knelt by the grave.
“Ciro... You were a good boy. I'm sure you would've grown to be big and strong. But... We can't... We can't do anything about that now...” he had to pause for a moment, bringing up his hand up to his face and taking a breath before continuing. “We'll live. The Famine won't last forever. Your mother and I will live, and your sisters will live. We'll find a way. But you... Well, at least you get to rest. So rest. And my boy, we'll remember you.”
The father lingered for a moment before standing. He glanced at his family, who looked back as they waited. He walked over to the dirt pile and lifted the shovel, sticking it in the dirt before taking one last glance at the little boy.
“Goodbye, Ciro,” he whispered.
“Goodbye Ciro,” the rest of his family echoed.
He then began to shovel the dirt into the grave, slowly covering him, little by little. His family walked up to help; though they didn't have shovels of their own, they took some of the dirt with their own hands and slowly dropped or pushed it in. They worked mechanically, their hearts heavy.
Soon, the task was done, and the father evened out the dirt before turning to his wife. She nodded, and she walked over and picked up a stone. Elin rushed over to help her pick up it, carry it, and drop it on top of the grave. They couldn't afford to engrave it, not that some of them would understand the lettering anyway. But they took their time to stare at the stone as the darkness encroached. At least they had a marking for where the lost member of the Ryer family lay.
It would have to be enough. Last ResortThe next few days were pensive. No one spoke much; they merely rested or mechanically worked on the chores they did have and could do. The pain in their stomachs was the only distraction from their thoughts, but no one was keen on focusing on that either.
Over those few days, Elin found herself reacting to every little thing, anything that may have indicated that someone else was there. Whenever she heard a creak, a clatter of material that wasn't immediately explainable by something else, or anything that caught her by surprise, she'd find herself on a frantic lookout for the source. There was one day where Elin heard a creak as the others were sitting by the table.
“What was that?” she asked all of a sudden, looking around.
Nina wearily turned her head over. “What was what?”
“That... That creaking sound.”
“It's probably the house settling,” Nina said.
“No, it sounded odd, it just... It must've... It must've been someone. Has to be someone. I'll go see--”
“Elin,” her mother's weary voice came from a prone figure, her head down on the table. “Don't. Please.”
“But I really--”
“Please,” her mother insisted, her voice cracking. And the room fell into silence. Elin looked around at the others. The father was just staring at the floor, a frown on his face. Nina was giving a skeptical look. Mari looked concerned as she stared at Elin, as if something was wrong.
It happened again a few times, and each time, Elin didn't find anything unusual. Her family waved off what she was jumping at until she stopped bringing it up with them entirely. But she still found herself looking up expectantly at noises, moving when she could to examine the source only to find nothing unusual. It got to the point here she couldn't tell whether the sounds actually existed or if she was just imagining them, but it distressed her nonetheless.
One day, Elin sat alone on the side of the bed were Ciro once lay, rubbing her arm as she stared at the ground. She had spent a lot of time in this room, at first when trying to take care of Ciro, but after that... She didn't know why. She lowered her head, trying not to look back at the bed behind her. It would only remind her that he was gone. And the fact that with the pains of the famine, their isolation, and his condition... She could tell in hindsight that he didn't stand a chance.
She was about to rest her head on her knees when she heard a rustle. Elin's head shot up, and she turned around.
“Ciro? Did you--”
She stopped herself. There was nothing there, and no sign of movement.
Elin groaned and turned around, putting her face in her knees and her hands to her ears. “Stop, please...” she whispered. ”Stop...”
The sound went away as soon as she had heard it. But she knew it wouldn't be the last. In spite of all the false alarms, she still couldn't help but wonder...
She looked up, speaking softly to no one. “...I-I remember the story. The story about the ghosts, like the one Fiona used to tell sometime. Th-that they would come back. Not exactly as they were, b-but close. A-and...”
She wrapped her arms around her knees. “I-if it's true... C-Ciro, stop hinting. Don't play hide and seek. Just... Just show up. Just so I know you're there, that you aren't really... Really...” Elin gulped. “Please.”
She waited for a long time, staring at the wall. There was a near-imperceptible sound, and Elin jumped. “Ciro?”
Nothing. Elin pondered, and realized that it must have just been the house settling.
“Please... Just for a moment. Show me. Please...”
But once again, there was nothing. She waited in silence for a long time; it could've been an hour, for all she knew. And there was still nothing save the mundane sounds of the house. Finally, she rested her head on her knees.
“Just noise... Just a story,” she said softly, her face scrunching up. “A story Fiona made up... That's all. ...I'm working myself up for nothing...”
The house creaked again as it settled, and Elin tried to ignore it. Her family was right all along, she decided. The sound was never anything more than mundane. The sooner the accepted that, the sooner she'd stop jumping, and the sooner she'd retain some grasp of her sanity.
Stop it Elin, Elin thought to herself. He won't come back... Nothing will bring him back.
The Ryer family would keep Ciro in their memory. But that was all. No amount of wishing and hoping would bring him back.
***
Elin found that she had drifted off, and she woke up to find that it was early morning of the next day. She was still sitting on the side of Ciro's bed. She didn't remember falling asleep, but she knew that she must have at some point. She decided it wasn't worth trying to find out when.
She heard the sound of conversation in the side room, and she realized that that must've been what woke her up. Elin slowly got to her feet before walking to the doorway. She saw her mother and father in the kitchen, and she leaned back against the wall near the doorway so that she could listen in to what they were saying.
“We need to do it now, Philip,” the mother said.
“I still don't like it, Petra, at all,” Philip replied.
“I don't either, but we don't have a choice. It's the only way for us to have a chance.”
“We could still manage it. I could count our food stores, and see how we can--”
“Philip, look at us.” Petra's tone had taken a weary edge. “Look at you. Look at your family. Look at what happened to... to...” she couldn't finish her sentence, and she turned her head away from her husband.
“I know, but I don't want to do this unless it's a last resort--”
“This is a last resort! We don't have any other choice. No one's buying what we can afford to sell because everyone's in the same situation we are. We're not getting enough relief from the nobles if they even come. And we've only got so much time until the taxman comes, and leaves us in worse condition. I don't like the risk, but I don't like what could happen if we don't take that risk. We have to do it, Philip.”
Philip was silent for a long moment, a frown on her face.
“...Please,” Petra said, her voice softening. “I don't want to lose anyone else.”
Philip considered her words before sighing. “If Clare agrees...”
“You've already talked to her,” Petra said. “She's already agreed to do whatever she can to help. She'll do this for us.”
“...I should still at least tell her, send her a letter...”
“Only if you can find someone who'll do it for free,” Petra said. “Give it to someone you trust, and someone can head that way. If you can do that... Then yes, go on and tell her.”
Philip put a hand to his head, rubbing his temple. “I'll get a letter started.” He paused. “...Petra, there has to be some other way. There...”
“There isn't,” Petra said, her voice quiet. “I'm sorry, Philip.”
“...At least it's only one,” Philip said. Then he shook his head. “But still one too many...”
“It's just for now,” Petra said. “It'll get better. I promise.”
They went silent and embraced. They spent a short time in each others' arms before Philip headed for the door. “I should get going. I can get the letter scribed soon, I think. And then... I just have to find someone. I may be gone a while.”
“Just come home when you can,” Petra said. “And be careful. Don't exhaust yourself. And stay out of the sun. And... Be careful. Please.”
“...I'll try.” And with that, Philip traipsed out the door.
Elin could only stare at the door as it closed behind him. Her parents didn't seem to catch her watching them because Petra said nothing. Instead, she sat down at the kitchen table with her head in her hands. Elin tore her eyes away, staring at the ground below her. She wanted to know what they were talking about, what kind of risk they were taking. But she didn't know if it was a great question to ask right now.
She supposed that soon, she would find out.
***
After their father left, nothing much happened until early evening, when it was blissfully cool again. They had finished eating what little they had, which amounted to nothing more than a few turnips to share. As they were finishing up, Petra sat straight, taking time to try to catch the eyes of each of her children. Elin looked up expectantly; that was usually a sign that their mother was about to talk to them about something serious.
Finally, Petra spoke, her voice somewhat shaking. “Kids, stay at the table; I need to talk to all of you.”
Nina and Mari looked at each other with some confusion and concern, but they didn't say anything, as if understanding the seriousness of the situation.
“What is it, mama?” Elin dared to ask, breaking the silence.
Petra stared at them for a moment, seated across the table from her daughters. Elin couldn't help but notice that her hands were shaking, and she looked to be trying her hardest to keep from breaking into tears. She swallowed before she spoke, her voice level.
“You're probably wondering where your father went off to do. And what he might be up to,” she said. “Before you ask, he'll be back. I asked him to do something very important.”
“Is he going to talk to Miller again?” Mari asked. Elin let out a small scoff as Mari said it, unable to believe what she had just heard. She doubted that's what her mother meant, and she doubted that her father would waste his energy that way, but she couldn't help but feel the anger flow through her at the name.
“He's already made it clear that he's not helping us,” Elin said bitterly.
“That's true, but that's not what I meant,” Petra said. “He went to send a letter to Clare.”
Mari looked up. “Is he going to get her to send us stuff?”
“We already have her sending stuff when she can,” Nina said. “It's just not enough... Maybe he's reminding her to send more.”
“Or he could be writing about Ciro,” Mari said quietly. “She should know too.”
Elin winced at the mention of Ciro's name, as if it were an offensive swear. Nina only bit her lip and looked away. But none of the children responded.
“...Yes,” Petra said, her voice quieter. All eyes went back to her. “He is writing about... about him. But that's not all he's writing about.”
“Then what is it?” Elin asked.
Petra bit her lip, hesitating.
“...Mom?” Elin asked gently.
“...Your aunt has been very helpful to us, helping whenever she can. But she can only help us so much, being so far away. And her packages take time to get here.”
“Assuming they aren't taken by bandits,” Nina said quietly.
“Mother, what are you saying?” Elin urged.
“...We're asking her to do something... bigger for us. Something that I really think is for the best. Believe when I say that if there was a better way, I would've done it. But there isn't.”
“...What is it?” Nina asked.
Petra folded her hands on the table, which now trembled wildly. She tried to steady them, and she took a deep breath, not looking at her daughters. “We're sending a message in advance to Clare, to tell her that one of you will be going to live with her.”
The room was silent, and the daughters' faces were frozen in silent shock.
“...You're sending us away?” Nina asked, as if unable to believe the words coming from her mouth.
Elin opened her mouth as if to speak, but she found that she couldn't think of anything to say.
“We can't feed you,” Petra said, her hands trembling even more. “We thought we could, but we can't. Thought we could save Ciro, but we couldn't.” She put a hand to her face, as if trying to hold back tears. “I don't want anyone else here to die. But we can't do that and keep you. I've seen our food stores and we can't. We might have a chance with two of you... But not three. If we send one of you to live with Clare, if one of you can make the trip... You'll all have a chance to live.”
The room was silent for a long time, the daughters sharing silent glances at each other. Everyone was thinking the same thing, pondering how the family was already being torn apart. How it was now being torn further. How they wouldn't be able to go to each other. How long it would be before they could see each other again, and live as a family.
Finally, Elin spoke up. “...How long are we going to be gone?”
The daughters' eyes returned to the mother, who only sighed.
“...I don't know,” she admitted. “As long as the Famine is here... And as long as we don't have enough to feed everyone... You can't all stay. It wouldn't be until the Famine is over, and until we can feed you again.”
Elin frowned. “That... That could take years.”
“...I know.” Petra said, matching her eldest daughter's frown.
There was another moment of silence, one that was eventually broken by a small sob. All the heads at the table turned to the source of the noise to find that Mari face was scrunched up, and she was letting out shaky breaths, on the verge of tears.
“I-I don't... want... to... go...” Mari managed before breaking into sobs again. “I-I don't want a-anyone to go...”
Elin got up from her chair at the table and walked over to Mari, putting a hand on her shoulder, but finding herself unable to say a word.
“Whoever goes, they'll still have Clare,” Petra compromised, still looking upset as she gazed upon her distraught daughter. “She'll feed you better than we can. Business is hard with the Famine, but she's still better off than we are. She'll help.”
Elin squeezed Mari's shoulder. “I-it's okay,” she said quietly. She gave a look to Nina, and they stared at each other for a moment before the latter nodded. Elin looked back to Mari. “You won't have to go. It'll be me or Nina. You can stay, okay?”
“I'd rather one of you two go anyway,” Petra said, shutting her eyes. “You're more likely to make it, and I don't want Mari going alone.” She didn't want any of her daughters going alone, Elin knew that. But there wasn't much choice in that matter.
“B-but th-then y-you're g-going a-a-aaway,” Mari choked out. “C-ciro d-did and now you are t-t-too.”
“It's not like that, though,” Elin said, her voice shaking. “We'll still be a-alive. And we'll be with Clare. You remember; she's nice. She'll take care of us.”
“And maybe the Famine will end soon,” Nina offered. “And we can come back sooner.”
“B-but wh-who's g-going a-away?” Mari asked, still not entirely consoled.
Elin and Nina looked at each other again, knowing the weight of the dilemma between them, knowing that eventually, they would probably have an argument about it. And then there was the rest of the family. Sure, whoever went was going to stay with another family member if they made it, and they were sure that girl would be cared for. But it was nothing like life at the farm. They'd be far away... And they'd be living an entirely different life.
Petra spoke again. “Y-you don't have to decide right now. It'll take us time to get ready and give Clare enough time to prepare. But when the message has gone far enough away...
Their mother put her hands behind her neck as she leaned down. “You'll need to decide soon who's going. Whoever goes will only have a few weeks left here, if that. Because I'm sorry... But we can't keep you here much longer.”
Petra frowned, looking over at the bedroom, where the body of Ciro Ryer once lay. “This is our only chance...” The DecisionThe next week passed in a slow and dull manner, with the family silent as they each weighed the dilemma in their heads. Everyone continued to ration their food as normal and waited for the days to pass, enduring the heat as well as they could. The sun was still blistering and unforgiving, its rays of light scorching the already-dry ground beneath their feet. There was even an incident with a small fire that the Ryers had to hurry to stamp out. It didn't seem like it was going to end.
So it was with great relief to all of the Ryers when they heard thunder, and saw the dark overcast sky looming over their heads just an hour before dusk. With nothing else to do, everyone watched the sky, hoping and praying and begging that it would let fall its long-awaited drops of rain. Which it did, albeit at a slow pace. But the fact it was raining at all elicited cries of joy from everyone.
Nina was the first to drag herself to her feet. “I'm going out there,” she announced.
Elin and Mari quickly followed suit. But their mother frowned.
“Not on the field,” she said. “Those crops need that rain.”
“And don't go on the grass either,” their father said. “We don't need any more fires from dry grass.”
“We'll stay on the dirt,” Nina said, waving a hand, already on her way out. As Elin and Mari moved to follow, their father spoke up again.
“Wait!” he called out. “Take some buckets with you. May as well get more water from the rain.”
The Ryer sisters looked at each other before nodding.
“We'll get as many as we can, dad,” Elin said.
“And don't stay out too long; we don't need any of you getting sick too,” their mother called out just as they went out the door.
“...We won't,” Elin called back as she grabbed the nearest bucket and went out.
Elin wasn't the slightest bit worried about what her mother warned them about. If anything, after the blistering heat of the sun bearing down upon them for the past few months, the rain was only going to make them feel better. She didn't think it was possible to feel too cold after all that had happened.
Had the children not been exhausted by the heat and had they eaten more that day, they might have dashed out the door, cheering and dancing in the rain to their delight. But with their physical strength sapped and their recent emotional turmoil, the rain jubilee turned into silent endearment of the good omen. No one spoke as they slowly moved around the farm as much as their bodies would allow, finding buckets and putting them at convenient places. There were hints of smiles on their faces as raindrops fell from the sky, slowly but surely washing their faces caked with dirt that had mixed with their old sweat and the few dried tears that they failed to stop.
Eventually, they flopped to the dirt ground, with no regard to the state of their clothes as they stared at the sky. For a while, they lay there with their heads forming a circle, silent. Finally though, Mari let out a sigh.
“I wish this came earlier...” she mumbled quietly. “And with more.”
No one replied for a while, but Nina eventually spoke up. “Nothing we could do about it,” she said.
Elin frowned at this, and said nothing.
“...Still,” Mari said.
“Well,” Nina said. “At least we got it at all.”
“...Only too late,” Elin grumbled.
“But we have it now,” Nina said.
“And we didn't then when we needed it,” Elin scowled at the sky. “This rain, this weather, we could've used it when he was ill, when he still had a chance!”
“Elin, please stop,” Mari spoke up.
“Please do, it's not like we can make it rain,” Nina said curtly. “There's nothing any of us could've done about it.”
“I... wasn't...” Elin muttered through gritted teeth before closing her eyes tightly and biting her lip. She fought back the few tears threatening to come to her eyes as anger boiled within her, almost canceling out the cool touch of the rain. But a part of her knew that Nina was right; they had no control over the weather. And Elin realized the way she said it made it sound like it was their fault. It wasn't what she meant, but... She took in a deep breath, or as much of one as she could without her empty stomach protesting.
“...Sorry,” Elin mumbled out shortly, only realizing too late how terse she sounded. She opened her eyes slowly. “...I know we couldn't do anything. Not your fault. Not any--” she couldn't finish the sentence. She knew it wasn't her family's fault for what happened, and that they all really did try. But she couldn't go so far to say that it was no one's fault. Over the past week, she had been pondering over and over again how much could have changed, how much could be saved, how much would be different if the nobles of Booveen did so much as lifted a finger to help. In her mind, she imagined many instances of her striking back at Miller, getting revenge, making him feel what everyone else has been feeling...
The stare of her sisters broke Elin out of her reverie, prompting her to finish. “...Not anyone's fault but the lords; people who could've helped us but didn't.”
“Maybe,” Nina mumbled. “But you already tried talking to him. He's not going to listen again.”
Elin narrowed her eyes, unable to disagree with her sister. “...No, he's not. Not unless something big happens...”
“And it won't come from us,” Nina said. “We're peasants; kids.”
“Still,” Elin muttered. “There has to be something we can do...”
“There isn't. You're not going to be able to boss everyone around.”
“Boss-- I'm not bossing anyone around!”
“But that's what you always do.”
“Well look at the nobles; what they're doing, or what they're not doing! At least I'm doing something helpful!”
“And so was I; I tried too! There's only so much we can do, only so much we have!”
“And it wasn't enough, look what happened! And now we have to somehow live with--”
“Stoppit!” Mari croaked out, causing the two sisters' heads to turn. They were sure that she meant to scream it out instead, but was too hungry and parched to pull it off. Her eyes were shut tightly. “Stop fighting... Not like this... Not when you're going to go away anyway...”
The two sisters stared at Mari for some time, a frown on each of their faces. Though they thought about continuing, they found that the argument taxed the energy in their bodies and left their voices hoarse. They both seemed to realize that they couldn't afford to fight like this. Not now, and not when it wouldn't change anything.
Finally, Nina spoke. “That's right... Mom still wants us to...” Nina looked away. “...I get it, but I don't like it.”
“I don't like it either,” Elin said, sounding calmer. “...But I'd rather not have someone else...”
Elin couldn't finish the sentence. But she didn't need to.
“...It's a long trip,” Nina said. “If one of us even survives going...” She turned her head up towards the farm, gazing at it wistfully. “...We'll be away. Gone.”
Elin frowned. “Yeah...”
“I don't want you both to go...” Mari said.
“I don't either,” Nina said automatically. Then she paused, almost startled. “...I-I mean, Elin. That doesn't mean I can't. I'm sure you don't want to go either. I mean—”
“It's okay, I get it,” Elin said. And for a long time, they were both silent, each of them in thought. Elin glanced at Nina with a frown. Nina had always been closer to the town than Elin had. She had more friends since she had no strange illnesses robbing her of the time and energy to make them on top of farm chores. Elin did like Wickerham, but she had to admit that Nina seemed more attached to it.
It didn't really matter too much about who was the better farm worker; they were both good at it, even if Nina had always been better at counting stock. She was sure they could both do well either on the farm or with Clare, and that they could both get used to the city eventually.
But then Elin had... other thoughts in her head. Thoughts fueled with anger and frustration, thoughts of the nobles, then the royalty, how they were all sitting around and waiting for the famine to roll over while the peasants did the dirty work. Then there were thoughts of her doing something herself... If it didn't come at the cost of her neck. But still, if she could do something, no matter how small...
They were small, incomplete thoughts; not coherent ideas. And they were coupled with wild fantasies that Elin knew were illogical, sometimes unreasonable. But something about the prospect or the idea, and seeing the city and royals for herself... Something about it intrigued her, although she didn't know why.
Between the two of them... Nina would go with begrudging necessity. Elin would go with a spark of a purpose.
Elin closed her eyes, allowing the raindrops to roll down her face as she prepared herself. “...I'll go.”
Both of the sisters turned to her. “Elin,” Nina started, “Just because I don't want to--”
“That's not it,” Elin said. “Think about it. I'm... I'm older than all of you. Stronger. If anyone's going to make it, it's me. Besides... I kind of want to go.”
Although Nina seemed to swallow the first reason, there was a pause. “...You want to abandon everything here?” Nina mumbled, an edge appearing in her voice.
“No, that's not what I meant.”
“That's what I heard,” Nina said.
“I meant I... Kind of want to see what it's like,” Elin said. “The city, the butchers, the merchants. I could get experience. If I make it.”
“...You'll be away from everyone. For years,” Nina said. “Do you know that?”
Elin bit her lip. “I... I do. I just... someone has to go. It may as well be me.”
There was silence until Elin felt a hand on her shoulder, and she turned her head to see Mari.
“You'll be gone... Are you sure?” Mari asked softly.
Elin paused as she looked into Mari's eyes and swallowed a lump in her throat. But she soon turned her head back towards the sky and gave a nod, as if she was confirming her decision to the world.
“Yes.”
**
The children didn't speak much more after Elin's proclamation, merely weighing the situation in their heads. But eventually, the rain came to be too much for their weary bodies. They got up and let the rain wash off some of the mud that collected onto their clothes as they poured each bucket of water into one. Leaving now near-empty buckets to collect more rain, the sisters hefted the filled bucket home. The relieved parents immediately began to pour the bucket of rainwater into a jar
“Good,” Petra breathed as they finished. “This could last us a while.”
“Thank 'Woo,” Philip breathed. “Let's hope this keeps up.”
“I already am,” Petra said. Then she frowned as she looked up out the door towards the sky. “We could just be lucky, especially since it's still so little rain. But I'm not about to wave off good luck--”
“Elin has something to say,” Nina suddenly piped up, her eyes firmly on the floor.
Elin blinked. “I was going to wait till tomo--”
“No point,” Nina said. “Just... Get it over with.”
Petra walked to the table and took a seat, letting out a sigh as Philip poured some of the water into cups. “What is it?”
Elin slowly walked over and took a seat on the other side of the table, while the sisters took seats of their own. Petra took slow sips from the cup of water that Philip handed to her, waiting for her daughter to speak.
“...It's about who has to go to Medieville,” Elin started.
Petra set down her glass, a look on her face indicating that she already knew where the conversation was headed. “...Have you figured out who's going?”
“Yes...” Elin looked up, meeting her mother's eyes. “I think I should go.”
Petra's expression was unreadable at first; she just stared at Elin, as did Philip. She bit her lip, and just when she was starting to get uncomfortable, Petra spoke up.
“I guess that's best,” she said slowly and rhythmically.
Elin blinked. “...What does that mean?”
“Well, I was just thinking that since you're the oldest, then maybe you'd...”
“Oh.” Elin sighed. “I know. That's... That's what I was thinking. That I'd be most likely to make it.”
“I guess we were thinking the same thing,” Petra said, wringing her hands together. “I just... wasn't sure since... If you get sick on the road...”
“Oh.” Elin rubbed her arm. “I'll take it easy then. And if I'm riding in a cart when it happens, it'll be okay.”
Petra frowned. “I... I guess you've thought about it then. And you haven't been sick in a while. And... If you think you can make it...”
“I'll do my best,” Elin said. She glanced up at her mother, who occasionally glanced away, biting her lip. Elin's voice went quiet. “I'm sorry.”
“...It's just what we have to do,” Petra said.
Elin sighed, hoping that none of them would press her for other reasons she was going, that it wasn't just because of Nina's better connections with their hometown, but the spark of a dream. One that Elin wasn't even sure was realistic or that it wouldn't fade out. Even if it did though, she'd have something, at least.
Elin tried to push the thought out of her mind, focusing on the trip itself. “When do I have to go?” she asked.
“...As soon as you're ready,” Petra said. “Once we find enough rations for you.”
“And once I've told you about what to expect,” Philip said. “I don't think you remember everything about the trip to Medieville.”
Elin's silence served as confirmation, so Petra added: “You'll need to. It'll be best if you don't get lost. ...And you'll have to live off the land a bit. We can tell you what you can find that's edible.”
“You'll also need to prepare for the dangers of the trip,” Philip finished. “I'll have to tell you about all of them, and what you can do.”
Elin stared at her parents. “That's... that's a lot at once.”
Petra sighed as her husband sat down. “Elin... We want you to be safe until you get to Clare's. We have to be prepared for anything that could happen. We have to make sure you know the roads, what routes to take, finding a good cart you can ride in for free... It's a risk as it is, and I don't want anything bad to happen to you.”
“We can spend most of our time teaching you. And you've always been a fast learner,” Philip added. “You'll probably go within a week.”
Elin suddenly shivered and rubbed her arm. A week. Less than that. She knew what she was thinking, but it seemed so soon. So soon until she'd be on her own, and... She hadn't thought at all about the fact that in just a few days, she would have to say goodbye to her family, and everything she knew. A part of her expected—or maybe hoping—that it would take a little longer to stay, just so she would have more time to get used to the idea of leaving.
But the growl of her stomach reminded her of her predicament. She was sure that in better times, she could have argued to stay a few more days. But then in better times, she wouldn't need to go at all.
“Are you okay, Elin?” Petra asked.
“You can still change your mind, now,” Philip said. “And take a little longer to decide.”
Elin forced her head up. “...I'm okay. I'll go.” She paused, considering the weight of her words. “...And I won't change my mind.”
Petra reached her hand across the table to grasp Elin's. Were it not for the lack of strength in both of them, the grasp would have been firm. Instead, their fingers barely clung together. “...Alright. We'll make sure you're ready.”
Philip turned to look at Elin. “I think you'll like living in Medieville. But after the Famine ends, if you want to come home...”
Elin let out a slow nod. “...I know. ...But I should get ready. ...Before anything else happens.”
Shortly after, Elin stripped off her clothes and hung them up before crawling into bed. It was still early in the evening, but Elin didn't care. There wasn't much to be had in the way of dinner, and she felt weary from the thoughts that were crowding her mind.
Even so, it took forever for her to sleep, as she thought over and over again about what she was doing, what could happen, what would happen. She knew that her choice was not a small one, and that the worst could still happen between now and the end of the Famine, even with her choice. She'd no longer be able to help watch over the family, and help them when needed. She'd have to trust her sisters to take care of themselves, and trust her family to find a way to survive without her. And if she made any mistake during the journey, she could be putting her own life at risk, and the trip would be all for naught. Both of her parents knew from the beginning that this was a gamble. But she knew they wouldn't be doing this if they thought there was a better way.
She heard another creak in the house, and she turned her head before turning it back and shutting her eyes tightly. She was still jumping at noises, with everything reminding her of what was, too many reminders... Maybe taking some time away was what she needed. And once there, if anything of substance came from her spark of an idea...
Maybe it would be worth something. It was with this thought that Elin's mind began to drift until she finally fell asleep.
**
The next few days were mentally grueling. Though Elin tried to learn as much as she could from her parents, the pangs of hunger and the fog in her head made it difficult to listen to everything they had to teach her. The fact that she had to repeatedly recite back what she had been told both helped her retain the knowledge and gave her a headache. There were many moments of frustration until they got the idea of drawing in the dirt what she needed to know, such as edible things she could find and crude maps of where she could go. Progress was still slow, but Elin's learning improved after that. Just before a week was out, the parents were finally confident that Elin knew enough to survive.
Which meant that her journey would start the next day.
The Ryers went to bed early that night so that Elin could leave as soon as possible. They wanted her to leave at the crack of dawn so that she could make as much progress as possible. They hoped that within the day, she would make it to Canchim, and there, she could find a cart and begin her journey to Medieville. The entire family desperately wished for her journey to not be exciting.
Elin was already mostly prepared when she rose. One of the first things she did was double-check the bag the family had prepared for her for anything else she would need. She left the few personal possessions she had behind, given the advice from her parents to travel light. Instead, she brought only what she would need to survive; a waterskin, an extra shirt for makeshift bandages, a knife, a piece of flint, and rations. It took all of Elin's willpower to not devour all of the rations right then and there. So she decided to keep them out of sight; she closed the bag and flung it over her shoulders, trying not to think about the meal inside.
Her family woke up not long after, and her parents helped her double-check for the things they needed. Once they were done making last-minute preparations and giving Elin her last (scant) meal, they all faced Elin, who stared at them all wistfully.
“Well... I guess this is it,” Elin said quietly, rubbing her arm.
Petra frowned. “I guess so. And you'll need to leave before it's too light in the sky.”
“I know,” Elin said with a heavy sigh, glancing away.
“...Elin.” Petra got up from her chair and moved forward before enveloping Elin in a hug, one which Elin reciprocated. “I'm going to miss you so much. Be safe, alright? And take care of yourself.”
“I will,” Elin said. “And when I get there, I'll send a letter.”
“Thank you.” Petra reluctantly let Elin go, allowing the young girl to turn and give her father a hug.
“I'm going to miss you too,” Philip said, returning the hug. “Keep your eyes out on the road, and watch for dangers. You'll be alright; just be prepared, like we talked about.”
“Alright, Papa,” Elin said softly. She let go of the hug before turning to the rest of her family, her eyes settling on Nina. The younger girl sighed.
“Well... It had to be one of us,” Nina said simply.
“It did,” Elin agreed. “But hey, you don't have to worry about the trip.”
“No, I don't,” Nina nodded, but she frowned. “Just everything else.”
Elin bit her lip. True, the trip would be difficult, but the rest of her family would still be stuck here, trying to survive... Elin grabbed her own upper arm. “I'm sorry. I'll try to get Clare to send stuff when I can.”
“...Thanks,” Nina said. But she didn't look up at Elin, even as the older girl hugged her younger sister. Their hug was brief, and broke away soon.
“I hope you make it,” Nina added. She only glanced at Elin as she said this, but Elin could tell that her words were genuine.
Elin then turned to her younger sister, Mari. Mari, on the other hand, didn't hesitate, and she wrapped Elin in a hug.
“I'll miss you,” Mari said. “You'll come back, right?”
“I will,” Elin said. “Promise. But I need to get there first.” Elin smiled and broke away from the hug. “I'll tell you what it's like, okay?”
Mari nodded, giving a small smile.
Elin then turned to her side, opening her arms up again. “And C--” she stopped, realizing there was no one there, no young little boy below her. And compounding with the empty feeling in her stomach, her heart sunk as she realized that she was staring at the bedroom, and the bed where Ciro lay. And the girl couldn't help but feel nauseous.
She gulped and turned away, towards the door. She had to do this now. She couldn't wait any longer, or she was certain she'd never make the trip.
“Goodbye,” Elin said, taking her first steps towards the door.
Her family followed her and then sat just outside the door, watching Elin go. After gaining some distance, Elin briefly turned and waved, and the family waved back. The young girl could tell just from looking at them that in spite of their strong faces, it wasn't going to last once she was far away. She bit her lip, in that moment wanting to rush back and hug them all again, and assure them that she'd be okay.
But she'd already done that, and they'd already said their goodbyes. The ache in her stomach told her that she would need to save her energy now and during the trip, or this all would be for nothing. She couldn't do anything for them; she just had to make it to her aunt's.
Elin took a breath and turned, telling herself not to look back as she walked away from the place she had always called home. She began her trek into town, eventually finding herself on the road to Canchim. There, she hoped to find a traveler in a cart that would let her ride with them. Even for part of the trip, it would be worth it, so long as she rode with the right person.
As the farm disappeared into the distance, Elin let her thoughts drift to what she might expect in Medieville. She had only been there a few times, in the scant visits they could afford to see her aunt, assuming she didn't travel to see them instead. She liked her aunt from what she'd seen of her, but she didn't know what it would be like living with her. And aside from that, the only friends she knew in Medieville were the Kiddes. It was a start when it came to friends, but only a start; she had very little idea about what other people in Medieville were like. And if she was wrong about whether she'd like living there, it wouldn't matter, because it would be years until she could move back.
But at Medieville, she could be away from the painful reminders scattered in her home. And as opposed to the middle of nowhere, she'd be in a city. The capital. Where Raven's Keep stood. Where not just the nobles congregated, but where the king lived...
And once more, Elin's eagerness to travel flared.
Elin mostly thought about what to expect in Medieville until she finally made it to Canchim later that day. She didn't spend much time in the town; she merely searched around for abandoned food and reputable travelers. She couldn't find anyone who was heading all the way to Medieville, but she did find one that was traveling north to Hereford. It wasn't a city she was keen to see ever again, but she knew she could go there if it meant a potentially good way to travel to Medieville. That, or she could stop at a town along the way and find another mode of transportation there.
With that idea in mind, she climbed aboard the cart and it trundled along the path, beginning Elin's long journey to the capital of Kyth. The End
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Post by Gelquie on Mar 13, 2015 23:58:51 GMT -5
I wrote this little drabble a while ago, then I cleaned it up so I could share it with you guys. Based on a conversation with Avery. Her characters are written by me, but approved by her. A Little Swim(Canon Story Timeframe: 2 years before the events of Medieville Wordcount: ~1.2K words) Elin had protested at first, coming up with every excuse she could think of for why she couldn't go. She told him that she had to work, she told him that she wasn't a very good swimmer, she told him it wasn't a good time... But she was coaxed into it eventually. Especially when Clare revealed that she had overheard the conversation and chimed in, telling her that she could afford to loosen up a bit, to let Kelcey teach her, and to just have a good time. And so Elin went.
It was one of the few times Elin wasn't wearing a dress, and she wore a shirt and trousers to make up for it. She kept frequently adjusting her trousers, commenting that they 'felt wrong', but upon stepping into the water, she stopped complaining.
Kelcey was quick to jump in, instantly getting soaked and splashing Elin in water. She took a moment to stare at the water droplets on her skin, figuring that that at least would help with the summer heat until she could jump in properly. Kelcey turned around, beckoning for Elin to follow.
“I-I don't know, Kelcey,” Elin protested. “I'm not a very good swimmer. I haven't really seen it done often, so I-I don't really know how.”
“Then watch me now,” Kelcey said before swimming in a circle a few times, creating a splash with each stroke he took. Elin watched intently, taking in each and every move he did that she could see. He was prone to the water, his arms over, then under, one after the other, his legs kicking behind him... He made it look so easy, and it made Elin feel more confident about her abilities.
“Alright, I'll try it,” Elin said, slowly stepping further into the water, letting it gradually creep up on her as she went. She had to admit that in the heat of the summer sun, the water felt nice; it was a good way to get away from the unforgiving and everpresent sunlight.
She paused as the water came up to her chest and she realized that if she was to go any further, she would have to try to swim properly. She took another look at Kelcey, who continued to swim without a care in the world. Almost flat, just like that... If I can stay that way...
She took a breath and--trying to keep the memory in mind--she kicked herself up. She didn't last long. She stumbled forward, her head becoming submerged in the water, her balance gone. She quickly found her footing and stood up again, gasping.
“How do you get started again?” Elin asked. And he showed her; he got close enough to shore so that Elin could watch him kick up, and she made sure to watch carefully. After a moment, she nodded, took a breath, and tried again. This time she managed it, and she found herself moving her arms and legs just as Kelcey showed her.
Elin would've smiled if she could; she had to admit it was a much better way to swim than what she could do, something that could best be described as 'dog paddling'. But she was moving much faster this way. She moved to catch up to Kelcey before wading in the water as best as she could.
“Ha, it worked, I got it!” Elin gloated just as she sunk a little. Quickly, she moved her arms, trying to keep herself buoyant, splashing Kelcey in the process. He laughed and splashed her back, an act that turned into a splash battle between them.
They spent some time playing as Elin got a better grasp of swimming. She didn't mind how her muscles had begun to feel sore; she figured that if it got really bad, she could go back and rest on the land. For now, she wanted to spend a little while longer in the water, and a little longer before being forced to face her realities again.
“Race you?” Kelcey asked her. Elin nodded. He pointed to the finish line—the edge of the water between two trees—and after a countdown that went down much too quickly, Kelcey sped off. Elin was quick to hurry after, keeping the skills of how to swim clearly in her mind; she wasn't about to let herself be beat by Kelcey. Especially when he had a head start and was already winning.
They hadn't gone too far when Elin let out a yelp, and lost her swimming position. She cringed as she tried kicking her right leg, which only resulted in her letting out a strangled gasp. Her entire leg had suddenly cramped up, pain emanating in her leg as it locked up. Worst of all, she was beginning to sink. She immediately began flailing, trying in vain to get the leg to work and to keep buoyant. Soon, her head went to close to the water, and she was struggling to keep afloat.
“Kelcey!” Elin yelled. “He--” she was cut off as her head dipped, filling her mouth with water, which she tried to cough out as she attempted to catch her breath again. “H--”
That was when she dipped below the water, unable to propel herself up enough to breach the surface again. She struggled as her body screamed for air and begged to cough out the water that had already entered her lungs. She flailed, trying her best to reach the surface, but to no avail. She could only watch in sheer terror as she sunk further into the water.
And then she felt something grab her arm, and it pulled her up. Elin didn't much question this as she was dragged along, and then mercifully, her head broke the surface. She felt herself dragged further as she coughed, simultaneously trying to cough up the water and catch her breath. But soon, she found herself being lain on the shore, so she tried to relax as she gasped for air.
“Are you alright?” she heard her rescuer ask. Kelcey; it was Kelcey. How long it had taken him to get to her, she didn't know nor did she really care. She didn't answer at first, rolling onto her side and putting her hand to her chest as she coughed, spitting out water until she could catch her breath.
“Yeah...” she gasped hoarsely between breaths. “Yeah, I am now. If it weren't for...” She took another moment to catch her breath. “Kelcey... Thanks. I... I owe you one, really.”
“Well hey, what're friends for?” Kelcey piped up, smiling.
Elin let out a breathy laugh. “Yeah, you're right.”
“...You wanna go again?” Kelcey asked. Elin stared up at him.
“After all that?” she asked. “I'd better not. My leg... It's my leg. It started cramping and it still hurts.”
Kelcey considered before slowly nodding, giving her a smile. “Later, then?”
“I don't know,” Elin said. “I think I'm done for today. But Kelcey... Thanks for showing me. And for saving me.”
They spent some more time on the beach, letting the sun dry them both off. Elin rested her leg until she decided it was good enough to walk home, where her Aunt Clare would help her treat it properly.
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Post by Gelquie on Mar 26, 2015 20:10:16 GMT -5
Collabed with Shinko! Takes place after the events of Party Capital. Never Again(Canon Collab Timeframe: 2 days after Party Capital Wordcount: ~5.8K words) It was dinnertime at the Ryer home, and two women were sitting at a table, bowls of stew in front of them. Clare was happily digging in to hers. Elin, hunched over the table, was eating a bit more slowly. She still had one hand supporting her other arm as she brought the spoon to her lips, taking a bite of the soup. The moment she did, she let her other arm fall, as if the action had strained her.
“You still not feeling better, Elin?” Clare asked her.
Elin swallowed. “No, I am. A lot better than yesterday. Just... still not great.”
Clare frowned. “Well, at least that guy got what was coming for him.”
“Should be,” Elin sighed. “I don't remember it well, but everyone was mad at him. I still am.” She grimaced and set down her spoon before rubbing her arm. “Still feels so tight...”
“Sorry Elin; we've already used the last of the potion,” Clare said sympathetically. “Don't worry about working tomorrow if you don't feel up for it.”
“I want to,” Elin mumbled, leaning onto the table and putting her hands behind her neck. “I'd rather be up for it. Better than just sitting around...”
Elin's thoughts were cut off by a knock at the door. Elin raised an eyebrow as she tried to lift an arm up to her chair. Clare put out a hand to stop her.
“It's alright Elin; I've got it,” Clare said. She strode to the door and opened it. She glanced down at the visitor before smiling.
“Morgaine! Good to see you. What brings you here?”
“Morgaine...?” Elin mumbled, looking up from where she sat.
"Heya Clare," Morgaine said genially, absently stroking the calico cat perched on her left shoulder. "Sorry, is this a bad time? Didn't mean to interrupt you if you're all in the middle of supper, just wanted to swing by to check on Elin. Haven't seen her still since the night of the festival and I was getting a little worried."
The locksmith also held up a small metal tin, pulling back the lid to reveal that it was filled with dried leaves- the scents of eucalyptus, lavender, rosemary, and peppermint wafted out, among others. "Also wanted to give you both this- I'm no mage, but from what Master Leif's told me of the pull, this might be able to help a little. If you steep your bathwater in these herbs, it can relieve soreness somewhat. I know he said it's not in physical muscles per se, but I figure it can't hurt to try, right?"
Clare looked down into the tin and sniffed it, letting out a smile. "Sounds like it'll help. At the very least, the smells will be nice. Thanks Morgaine. Anyway, we were having dinner, but you can come in and talk. We might even have enough to spare another bowl if you want. Anyway, Elin's just inside."
Clare moved aside to let Morgaine inside, giving Elin a good view of the woman.
"Hi Morgaine," Elin said as Clare pulled up another chair for Morgaine. "I'm alright; I'm just still kind of pulled from... From that day. ...What you brought smells good. Thanks." She let out a small smile, genuine but weakened by her own fatigued state.
"Oh, well thank you," Morgaine said, surprised. "I'll have to take the two of you out sometime. There's a new place just opened last month in the market, and Rosalie says it's pretty good."
Clare smiled. "Sounds good, Morgaine.”
Morgaine walked further in, casting a sympathetic glace towards Elin. "Sorry to hear that dear. I figured that might be the case, but I wanted to check just to be certain. I should... probably apologize, I don't remember everything I did that night but I do recall encouraging you to use more power than was probably wise." The old woman winced. "I can only plead my own diminished faculties in that case, and beg your forgiveness."
As she spoke, Rust jumped down from her shoulder and trotted over to Elin, sniffing the girl curiously and bumping a head against Elin's leg.
Elin glanced down at the cat at her leg, and though with some effort, she brought her hand down to pet the cat's head. "Thank you. But it's alright; neither of us were thinking straight that night. Besides, you didn't know until that night, and I..." Elin sighed. "I knew better, and I kept doing it anyway, even when I knew I was getting pulled. I could've always told you no. I was just being an idiot."
She shook her head. "Anyway, don't blame yourself. That's mine and that stupid merchant's fault. Speaking of, have you heard anything more about him since that night?"
The old woman tutted at her cat, "Don't bother Elin right now, Rust, she's not feeling well." The cat glanced back at her owner, who repeated the order in Elvish. Yawning unconcernedly, Rust curled up next to Elin's foot, purring. Morgaine sighed.
"Cats, they never listen. Let me know if she's bothering you and I'll grab her," Morgaine shrugged. "As to the merchant, from what I understand he's in jail- Master Leif had his wand at Marson Manor for a while, though he told me he was going to take it to the constables later. He also wanted to file a letter with the guard about the stunning spell the man hit me with and whatever it was he threw at you after I was unconscious- get him tried for assault as well as the scam."
She folded her arms. "Trouble is, they're having some legal issues with regards to that. Technically nothing he did with regards to the juice was illegal, just immoral. The most they can get him for is reckless endangerment and misuse of magic- and maybe assault, if Leif's appeal goes through."
The locksmith smirked a little. "According to Ambrose, though, his majesty intends to have the Shadow Council discuss a new law that if you sell something alcoholic, you have to clearly label it as alcoholic- both with writing and imagery, for the benefit of the unlettered."
Elin smiled at the cat, but raised her arms back to the table so that she could lean on them. The cat was indeed a bit too far to reach for Elin's liking. "She's not bothering me much right now, but I'll let you know," she responded. "I... I thought I remembered him being taken away, yeah. It's all so fuzzy... And embarrassing." She sighed. "I really gotta thank Leif properly later, for everything he's done with all of this."
Elin then frowned. "Of course, always a legal issue from getting that merchant what he deserves... Well, those laws sound good to slap him with. If they don't, I'll go yell at them. Just because it wasn't technically illegal doesn't mean that what he did wasn't dangerous."
"Well Elin, even if he gets off lightly, the town's not going to let him forget it so easily," Clare pointed out.
"I guess so. I just hope enough's done to him." Then Elin let out a small, weak laugh. "Anyway, that sounds like a great law. I'll make sure it gets passed. Not that I expect much argument on it."
Morgaine snorted. "I should hope not. It's a good law to have- drinking is fun in moderation but too much alcohol can kill a person if they're not careful. And everyone has different limits."
She sat down at the chair Clare had brought out for her, shooting Elin's aunt a smirk. "As you and Ilsa learned the hard way, am I wrong?"
Turning her attention back to Elin, the locksmith leaned forward on her elbows. "I asked around to try and determine if anyone else we know was a victim of the juice merchant. I don't know how many of my acquaintances you're familiar with, but I can confirm for you that Lawrence Kidde and your council friend who works as a blacksmith were among those who have been nursing hangovers for the past few days. King Galateo should have no issues passing this law, and that mage is going to have very few friends in this city."
Clare laughed. "Guilty, I admit it. I wouldn't get as drunk as the rest of the town got, though. That's way past the point where it stops being fun for me. Can't blame Elin for being angry."
Elin ate more stew as Morgaine talked, and took a moment to swallow when the locksmith finished. "I think you're right; there shouldn't be a problem passing it. Anyway, I hadn't heard about Lawrence or Clarissa; I don't remember seeing them in the crowd. Maybe I'll see them later, and we can both groan about it. I wonder if anyone checked in on Clarissa, although I'm guessing she's fine now." She sighed. "Probably most people are. Except me and maybe other mages. But I'll get over mine eventually. Just have to rest, mostly. At least I'm not really hungover anymore."
"Normally I wouldn't have gotten as drunk as I did that night," Morgaine said in response to Clare's remark, her annoyance plain. "I stopped overindulging like that when I was a teenager- it's not fun enough to be worth the morning after. I certainly don't blame anyone who is unhappy with the man."
"Oh, I didn't mean to say that you were doing it on purpose, or the rest of the town," Clare said. "I feel sorry for anyone who fell for that dumb trick."
Turning back to Elin, Morgaine said, "I know for a fact that Ambrose was keeping an eye on her that night, so I wouldn't be surprised if he checked on her the next day as well. And of course Lawrence had Rosalie waiting on him hand and foot all day yesterday." Morgaine chuckled at this. "It's a good thing Leif came to look in on me or that silly girl would probably have left me to fend for myself until the hangover passed. I am glad you're getting better though Elin, if slowly. I'm sure Xavier was beside himself."
Elin laughed. "Yes, he was. But he was almost always there to help me when I woke up. Actually, I had to tell him to stop sometimes. He can be a bit over-eager, but he's sweet." She smiled slightly. "I guess we all had someone helping us. Even if Leif was running around... Glad he got to see you though, if Rosie was too distracted by Lauri-- Lawrence."
She let out a weak sigh. "It'll probably be about a week at least before I should use my magic, though. Even if I'm feeling better, it doesn't always mean I'm ready."
Morgaine smiled sympathetically at Elin. "I never thought I'd be grateful not to be a mage, but... in this case, I'm grateful not to be a mage! That sounds like a miserable time. I wish there was more I could do to help than just an herbal bath mix."
The old woman seemed to recall something, and glanced at Clare with amusement. "Though speaking of helping, you were with us in spirit if not in person that night, Clare. Elin, I don't suppose you remember the fellow who was harassing you when Leif and I first ran into you and the... colorful threats I threw at him?"
Clare raised an eyebrow at Elin. "Was someone really--?"
"Oh... Oh 'Woo, I remember," Elin commented. "I don't remember exactly what you said, but I do recall you threatening him with Leif's dragon spell and with Auntie's butchering skills. ...I don't think I ever thanked you for that."
"Wait, what are you talking about?" Clare inquired.
"Oh, well..." Elin hesitated, as if pondering whether or not to tell her. But she pressed on anyway, since Clare had already asked. "When they found me, this guy--don't even know him--started flirting with me, tried to get me to run off with him. And he wouldn't take 'no' for an answer." Elin was then quick to say more. "But don't worry; Morgaine gave him a good kick; he didn't do anything to me."
"He really..." Clare scowled. "That skullbrain. Trying to take advantage of you like that. I oughta go find him and do exactly what you said. Maybe put him out to dry while I'm at it." She sighed. "Thanks, Morgaine, for stopping him. I wish I could've helped in person, though. I guess you didn't catch his name?"
"If he said it, I don't remember it," Elin said with a sigh. "And I don't trust my memory of what he looked like. I hope he has the worst hangover."
Morgaine snorted. "He was a complete ignoramus. After I told him Leif was a mage and could call a dragon he should have backed off then and there. After I told him your aunt was the town butcher he should have backed off! But he just gave me this look like I was speaking a foreign tongue." She smiled a little lopsidedly. "I know I was slurring, but not that badly."
To Clare she added, "It was no trouble, at least not in particular compared to the rest of that night. Probably wasn't the wisest idea for me to kick someone half again my height, but fortunately he didn't seem to have a very high pain threshold."
The old woman suddenly laughed. "Though if you want to help more directly next time, maybe you should start encouraging Elin to carry a meat cleaver at her belt wherever she goes. Maybe that will get the message across if verbal threats don't do it."
Clare smirked. "You know Elin, it's not a bad idea. It'll make people think twice before doing anything like that to you again, especially in situations like that."
Elin frowned in thought. "I already keep knives on me, Auntie."
"Not obviously," Clare retorted. "Sometimes, that little threat on your side is all you need."
Elin shook her head, smiling slightly. "Thanks. But I can normally take care of myself without it. What happened the other day was... different."
"Well, it's handy if you ever get drunk again."
Elin put her head to her hands. "Not planning on it, Auntie. This is terrible."
"It's not so bad if you just don't overindulge."
"Nope." Elin put a hand out. "Not with hangovers like these. I don't know how you stand them, Auntie."
Clare let out a sigh. "You did always have bad hangovers..." She frowned, but she decided not to press the issue. "In any case, wise or not, that kick was well deserved."
"I thought it was hilarious," Elin admitted. "It's still one of my better memories of the night. After you and Leif showed up, that is. Anyway, even if the kick didn't do the trick, I'm sure Leif would've done something. Especially since nothing seemed to be getting through his head at all. Probably an idiot even while sober."
Morgaine smiled. "I'm glad I could be of help. And that our arrival made the night somewhat better for you. Even if it did devolve into you and me waltzing with Leif at one point."
Elin rubbed her forehead. "I... barely remember the waltzing; I was actually starting to doubt it happened. I... With Leif, really? I kind of remember trying it again with Xavier, though. It... Ended as you'd expect. On the floor." She paused before blushing slightly, ignoring Clare's amused look. "Er, not... Not that way."
The old woman shook her head, bemused, "I've not been that drunk in a long while, I forgot how silly it makes me act. I can usually hold my alcohol. Remember when Ilsa challenged me to a drinking contest, Clare?"
At the mention of the drinking contest, Clare's face took on a look of clarity. "Oh, oh that. That was..." Clare laughed. "Something I wish I could remember more of."
"I remember it just fine, Auntie," Elin said. "Because I was the one who took you home that night."
"Aye, I remember that well enough. It's just... I still don't know how you can down that many drinks and stay standing, Morgaine. I really didn't think you'd last that long, or that you'd win. You sure showed me; that headache the next day proved it."
"So considering how much the 'juice' still affected you," Elin began. "Then everyone else's tolerances would... 'Woo, I want to punch him again."
Morgaine laughed, "I did try to warn you and Ilsa both. You can't say I didn't."
Clare grinned. "You did. We should've believed you. I was sure we had you."
Growing more serious at Elin's comment, the old woman nodded. "As much alcohol as was in that juice, if say, someone had purchased it and shared with their young child not realizing what it was... that could easily have killed someone. It's really, really not funny what that idiot did."
The locksmith looked down pensively. "From what Leif told me, mages are supposed to do measures for weight and age and whatnot when they're calculating the strength of magically produced liquor. To ensure that they're not overdosing the person it's being given to. But this man made it as strong as he feasibly could, and was selling that one generic strength to everyone at the festival. Honestly we're lucky things weren't even worse"
Elin, meanwhile, frowned as she absentmindedly stirred the spoon in her stew. "I won't pretend to understand it, but that spell sounds so easy to abuse. If all it takes is an idiot who somehow got into mage school... It was still bad, but you're right. If it got kids, or someone who can't drink much or any alcohol... For all we know, it might have." She scowled. "And it already got the mages; we both know what happened there. At least it didn't get someone like Leif; don't know what anyone could've done about that. If anyone died because of this..."
She let the sentence hang, taking a moment to clench her fist tightly before letting it loose with a sigh. "And it was when those Lyellian performers were visiting too. I would've liked them to come back sometime, but after this, I wonder if they'd want to." She leaned over slightly, one hand behind her neck. "And I didn't help; I just acted like a... a gawking drunk in front of them. Hardly the best representation of the Council I could give."
"Well this isn't the first year the Lyellians have visited, but certainly it isn't the sort of reception that will make them eager to come back again," Morgaine agreed tiredly. "While I was wandering with Leif before we found you, I remember we saw some performers with their group doing a rope walk- you know where someone suspends a rope between two high trees and balances on it? One of the rope walkers got some of the juice, and she fell from the rope in the middle of the act."
The locksmith looked grim. "It's just fortunate that the Lyellians had a net set up to catch her. That could have gone... so incredibly poorly."
Though you shouldn't blame yourself for how you acted in front of them," Morgaine added. "It can hardly be said that your behavior was your own fault."
Elin sighed. "I know. I try to remind myself of that, that it's that merchant's fault... But I still wish it didn't happen, that I was just less... Especially since I was impressed with them, and I wouldn't have minded talking with them, just..." She shook her head. "Not like that."
"Well, as Morgaine said, they seemed to have trouble with that too." Clare cut in. "They probably knew it wasn't your fault."
"I guess so." Elin paused before scowling. "And he sold to the performers too... It's no wonder they were rushing to pack up as they were, if that merchant was ruining their performances too... I'm glad she wasn't hurt. Unless there was another performance where one of them did get hurt that I just didn't see... Or remember."
She took a bite of stew and furrowed her brow in an effort to try to remember the performances. When she swallowed, she still looked uncertain. "It's too fuzzy... It's not coming back to me. I don't remember most of that night. Xavier and Leif had to explain a lot to me, and I'm sure I'm still missing pieces."
"I imagine they probably knew that most of the drunkenness wasn't intentional," Morgaine agreed when Clare remarked on it. With a slight grin and a pointed look at Clare she added, "at least not most of it. I'm given to assume that you and Ilsa got to the state we found you in a little more legitimately."
Clare smiled slightly. "I have to admit I did. And I admit, once things got a little more out of hand, I drank a little more than I knew I should. Just got caught up in the moment."
Morgaine winced sympathetically. "I didn't remember much upon initially waking up, though more did come back to me as I recovered from the hangover. It's probably for the best you don't recall. It was an... exciting night to say the least. Though there is a pretty big blank in my memory that you probably know more about, if only marginally- apparently the merchant used a spell to knock me out briefly?"
Elin nodded slightly. "I guess you're right. It just feels odd not remembering..." She paused at Morgaine's question. "Oh... Oh that. I was dragging you along to catch up with Leif and the merchant, and we startled him, so he fired a spell at you. So I got mad and tried to attack him. He..." She grimaced. "He reciprocated. Leif tells me that the merchant shot a force spell at me. Leif deflected it, so then it tore off part of a wall."
Clare took a sharp intake of breath. "I'm no expert on spells, but Elin, he could've killed you like that."
"At the time, I didn't think too much on that." Elin said, frowning. "I just wanted to get him; I barely paid attention to the rest. But Leif did most of the work; he's the one who got him. Then I... vaguely remember punching him."
Elin mouth curved into a slight smile. "That I wish I could remember more clearly than I do. It's one of the few good things I did that night."
Morgaine winced. "I suppose I'm flattered you got so angry on my behalf, though I can't help feeling a little guilty that you put yourself in so much danger for my sake. Especially since I was more or less fine, aside from getting knocked out and still being drunk. But... thank you, all the same."
The old woman folded her arms, her mouth quirking upwards tiredly. "I wish I'd been awake to see it at all. I was looking forward to that all night, and then I didn't get to see. It seems I'm never around when you're at your most fearsome. I just show up after the fact, when the enemy has been apprehended or you've passed out and Xavier is panicking... Oh!"
The old woman suddenly found the answer to a question nearly two years old, and looked up at Elin with an expression of understanding, "That's what was wrong with you after the coronation wasn't it? You'd passed out from the pull! I couldn't find any injuries when I looked, so I figured it was probably magic of some kind, but I always assumed an externally cast spell..."
Elin stared at Morgaine before letting out a slow nod. "Oh, yes, it was the pull. Not that I knew that at the time. When I woke up, the healer told me it was magic and told me to see a mage. That led to me finding out what kind of magic I had. Before, I thought I was just a really terrible mage. I was so confused because I didn't cast anything during the battle." Elin smiled ruefully. "I did though. I was mimicking everything about fighting that I could remember for... most of it. And on top of things I did earlier in the week... Looking back, it's no wonder I collapsed."
"Nearly gave me a heart attack when I finally found you, Elin," Clare breathed. "Even just thinking of it... And after all that time..."
Elin sighed. "I know. I didn't want any of that, it just... I don't even know what to make of that week." She rubbed her arm and looked up at Morgaine, continuing on. "I thought I'd heard of you helping. I... I don't remember if I thanked you for that, but... Thank you."
"It means a lot to us," Clare said with a smile. Unlike Elin, she remembered thanking Morgaine along with Ilsa and Xavier, but she saw fit to emphasize Elin's point anyway.
"I guess after what happened there, getting angry for you was the least I could do," Elin continued. Then she frowned. "Not that I was very good at it. I know I would've been smarter about it if I hadn't been so drunk. ...And angry. I think I was convinced that he'd done something terrible to you. I didn't think too hard about it; I just charged." She shook her head. "Really, my most fearsome that night was still stupid of me. I'm sorry you didn't get to see us get him, though. At least we all got a chance to shout at him and see him arrested."
Morgaine shook her head with a smile, "You don't need to thank me, Elin. I couldn't have left you when you were clearly in pain despite being out cold. Not to mention that Xavier was beside himself and it would have taken a monster to walk away from him, even if I still didn't know at that point if Sieg was alive or dead." She waved a hand dismissively. "I think I've told Clare at least that my husband was a knight- I learned field triage so that I could help the elven knights after battle by patching them up. That was far from the first time I'd seen the aftermath of a massive battle. Honestly all I really did was force Xavier to stop panicking and determine that it was safe to carry you to the triage; I didn't help much."
With a humorless smirk, she added, "I'm still flattered you thought I was worth getting that upset over. Even if you weren't quite at your top performance at the time."
Rust, who'd been dozing at Elin's feet most of this time, suddenly sneezed and stood up, trotting under the table and jumping into Clare's lap. Startled, Morgaine gave an exasperated order to the cat in Elvish, which Rust ignored, instead butting her head against the butcher's chest and sniffing her. She smelled like meat.
Clare seemed startled at the arrival of Rust, but not displeased. Without shifting much from her chair, she took her free hand down to stroke the cat in her lap. She never really knew what else to do with cats, having only had second-hand attention from cats in circumstances not related to work. But most cats seemed to like being petted well enough... Most of the time.
Rust purred, leaning into the hand that Clare was stroking her with. Morgaine sighed, shaking her head with a rueful grin. "If that fuzzy brat gets to bothering you, let me know and I'll reclaim her. I love her, but like most cats she can be contrary."
Clare breathed out a small chuckle. "I noticed. Not that she's... bothering me now." She continued to pet Rust, letting the cat do most of the movement. "I should probably be around pets more often, really; never got one for myself after I moved here."
Elin continued on. "I still appreciate it, especially since you were worried about Sieg. It was still worth something, helping me get to triage faster. And for calming Xavier down. I think he was more afraid than I would've been." Elin admitted. "...But looking back, I can easily see why Xavier panicked. Turned out..." She gulped and spoke quietly. "Turned out that was my life on the line."
She paused before she shook her head. Or rather, she started shaking her head before she stopped and reached up to rub an ache on the back of her neck. "Agh... A-anyway, of course it was worth getting upset over you, and getting even more upset at that guy." She pondered. "...Can't tell you how upset I was; that's blurry like everything else. I just know that I was."
Turning her attention back to Elin, the locksmith winced. "I can only imagine how terrifying that would have been for him. Well..." she glanced away, a shadow of pain in her eyes. "No, that's not true, I know exactly how terrifying it is for the person you love to be in danger of dying."
Forcing herself to push away the memories that had surfaced and turn her attention back to Elin, she added, "But him panicking wasn't going to help anything. I have lots of experience with battles and their aftermath so I was able to keep a cool head, but it isn't terribly surprising that Xavier didn't know what to do. I became physically sick the first few times I saw the aftermath of battle. Not exaggerating even a little, I'm impressed by how well most of the people who were at the coronation handled themselves."
As Clare gave a sympathetic look to Morgaine, Elin looked up at the older woman, a frown twitching at her lips. "It's good you were there to help when it was over. I think everyone could've used a calm head, not that I can blame people who weren't. ...'Pit, I wasn't either, not fully. I just... I didn't even know what to think when the battle started. I-I mean, I've been in fights, but never anything like that. I didn't really know what to do, and once I snapped out of my daze, I knew I just had to focus and just... I had to keep telling myself that over and over again, to not think too hard on-- on the dangers others had of..."
Clare suddenly reached out and grasped Elin's hand. Elin was shocked out of her thoughts by the gesture, not realizing until then that her hand was shaking. She paused to take a breath before speaking again.
"I-I'm okay," Elin said. "I think it's terrifying for anyone. Normally, I try not to think about it too hard. Some good things happened, but... It was an awful day."
Morgaine sighed, her expression grim. "Nothing can prepare you for the first time you experience a real, life and death battle. There's something very primal about it that strips away all the normal considerations of our society, and reduces us down to the very base need to survive at any cost. You learn a lot about yourself, and human nature, in the midst of a warzone."
Morgaine hesitated, then she too reached out, putting a hand on Elin's shoulder. "And there's no shame in the memory of it shaking you. Sieg is a knight, and it still took him nearly thirteen years to recover from the first time he watched people fighting and dying- it took his father centuries."
She pulled back, ruefully shaking her head. "I came here to check on you and try to cheer you up and we just end up discussing something even more upsetting than the festival. Sorry, I guess I'm really bad at this."
Elin shook her head. "It's alright. I could've changed the subject." She tried to push the more gruesome thoughts of the Coronation out of her head as she looked up. "And you're right. I think I did learn a lot about myself then, how I react..." For a moment, she trailed off, feeling pensive. "I can't think of who wouldn't be shaken by a battle like that, at least a little. I assumed the knights would be used to it. Maybe it's always hard for everyone."
She then let out a small laugh. "And I guess compared to the Coronation, us getting drunk in an out-of-control city sounds pleasant by comparison. Not that it was, given all that happened or could have happened. Just better compared to that. And then I didn't pull myself nearly as bad as I did at the Coronation."
"Thank Woo for that," Clare breathed. "Though really Elin, you're not a bad drunk."
"Maybe not, but I still ran everyone sober up the wall. And then there's my mimicry..." Elin shook her head again. "It's not worth it. Especially not with the hangover and the Pull I would stupidly give myself."
Morgaine smiled thinly. "You don't have to drink if you don't want to. If you don't think the aftereffects are worth the temporary high, than there's no point. Besides, alcohol is expensive. No harm saving the money."
She sighed. "I suppose I should probably head back- Rosalie will get cross at me if I'm out later than I said I'd be. She is still irritable with me over getting as drunk as a I did, though I think that's mostly in jest." The old woman stood, stretching. "I'm glad to see you're recovering though, Elin. Let me know if the bath herbs help- and if there's anything else I can do to help you out."
Clare looked up. "Well, thanks for visiting. Rosalie will probably get over getting onto you about it eventually, in jest or no. But I'll see you another day."
Elin put her elbow on the table and leaned her head into her hand, looking up at Morgaine. "I'll definitely try it. Thanks again. Not much else you can do, I don't think. It's going to take a while for the aches and everything to go away..." She frowned uncomfortably. "But I pretty much have to rest it off."
Rust, sensing her mistress was about to go, yawned and gave Clare a final bump under the chin with her head before jumping down and leaping onto Morgaine's shoulder. The old woman petted the cat absently, smiling at Elin with sympathy. "I'll let you get that rest then. Hope both of you have as pleasant an evening as you can, given the circumstances."
With a wave, the locksmith turned and left.
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Post by Gelquie on May 17, 2015 20:12:12 GMT -5
Collab with Avery! It's a children fic starring Elin, Briar, and Kelcey. The Market(Canon Collab Timeframe: 1306 ish? Wordcount: ~5.6K words) “But I wanna go,” Elin frowned, folding her arms. “I’ll be fine by myself! I know not to touch anything.”
“You’re still too young to go by yourself,” Petra said with a sigh. “We might take your siblings into town anyway later, you can come with us then.”
“But they could be gone by then!” Elin protested. “And I’m not doing anything now, you’re the one who wants to stay here longer!” She sighed. “Pleaaase mom? I’m really bored.”
Petra thought for a moment and sighed. “How about this? You go find a friend to be with you, and I’ll let you go. And we can pick you up back in town later.”
Elin jumped for joy. “Yay!”
“But,” Petra warned. “I don’t want you taking money or causing too much trouble. I’ll be in town later buying things anyway.”
“I’m not gonna make trouble, I promise,” Elin insisted. “And I don’t have to buy anything, I just wanna look. I don’t need to buy stuff to have fun. And then I could ask Briar; we’ll have fun!”
“Well… Alright. But I’m going to hold you to that, young lady,” she patted her on the head. “Straight to the Kidde farm; if I hear you were wandering out there on your own…” She let the threat hang.
“Don’t worry, you won’t!” Elin insisted. “I’m a big girl now, I’ll be fine.”
“You’ve still got some growing to do yet.” Petra paused before ruffling her hair. “Just behave yourself. And have fun. We’ll be out there eventually, but if anything happens before then, like if you get sick, stick by your friends until we get there.”
“Okay mom! I will!”.
She beamed at her mother, who returned the smile. Not long later, Elin was rushing out the farm door, running across the yard, heading in the direction of the Kidde farm as promised. She was glad to have a break from having to deal with her siblings. In spite of her mother fretting as much as she did, Elin couldn’t help but feel like she was responsible enough to go on her own. She could’ve snuck away, so that no one would see her alone. But going with a friend did sound fun. And Briar could have fun with her! Maybe she could help Briar sneak around with her. The more she thought about it, the more it sounded more fun than going alone.
Finally, after some time, Elin found herself trodding past the fields of the Kidde farm, heading straight to the farmhouse. On the front porch, she began peering through the ajar front door, looking for Briar.
“Elin!”
A high-pitched voice called out from the small house’s dank front room, accompanied by the sound of light, jaunty footsteps. In a moment, a scrappy blonde-haired girl bounded into sight, greeting Elin with a smile and a wave, the sleeves of her plain wool dress soaking wet.
“When I heard footsteps, I thought it was just Auntie,” the girl said, wiping her wet hands on the hem of her dress. “Come to yell at me for not getting all the washing done fast enough. I keep telling her it’d get done faster if Kelcey would just help, but…” She rolled her eyes. “Anyway. What are you doing here?”
“Oh, you’re doing chores. But… But I wanted to ask you if you wanted to come with me to town. There’s some traveling merchants there right now!” Elin beamed at Briar. “I know you’re washing, but you should come! They barely come at all, ever, and they never stay long!” She paused. “How much more washing do you have to do?”
“Merchants!” Briar gawped as if this were the most exciting thing she’d ever heard. “I bet they have such pretty things!” But her face promptly fell again as she muttered, “If I go without finishing my chores, Auntie will tan me. She and my uncle are already so cross because of Kelcey. He forgot to latch the door to the chicken coop last night, you know. John Barlow’s mangy dog ate two of them and would have gotten a third if the racket hadn’t woken Lawrence up.” She pursed her lips. “I am almost done, though. Maybe if you helped me…?”
“Sure I can,” Elin nodded. “So you get done and not yelled at and we get to get there faster!”
As Elin followed Briar through the front room toward the half-covered porch that butted to its side, with only a flimsy, crumbling door to separate the outside from in, she frowned. “He forgot again? Dunno how he’d forget chores; my mom and dad never let me forget chores. And there’s not much else to do anyway.” She sighed. “Too bad about the chickens.”
“I didn’t forget,” retorted a voice as the two girls reached the washing basin; both of them turned sharply toward it, Briar scowling at the tall though thin boy who’d apparently been eavesdropping on their conversation. If he was at all sorry about spying-- or the chickens-- he didn’t show it, his chapped, sunburnt lips upturned into a mischievous grin as he went on, “I thought the chickens would have more fun outside. That chicken coop’s so stuffy, you know. I was just being nice, Briar.”
“They got ate, Kelcey!” she snapped in reply, reaching into the basin to wring the water out from one of her aunt’s nightdresses. “How’s it nice to be ate?”
“That’s not my fault. The dog ate them, not me! Woo, you sound just like Auntie and Uncle Barrett.” The smile disappeared abruptly, as he glanced toward Elin. “Hi, El,” he said. “Briar making you help her with her stupid chores?”
“I’m helping cause I wanna, Kelc,” Elin replied, dipping her hands into the basin. “You should help too, so we get done faster!” She looked pensively up at Kelcey. “But you shouldn’t do that to the chickens ‘specially not when we’re sleeping. Barlow never ropes up his meany dog. And there’s snakes out there to get ‘em.” She couldn’t help but let out a small shudder.
“Why would I help?” Kelcey asked, crossing his arms. “It’s not my chore. I already did all my chores this morning, you know.”
“Once we get done, we’re going into town to see traveling merchants,” Briar said. “Elin says they’ll only be here for a little, so we have to finish fast.” She paused as a devilish look bloomed in her eyes. “Too bad you’re not allowed to leave the farm anymore,” she nearly sang. “Or else you could come. But since you’re not, well…” Briar smiled serenely.
“I can come!” Kelcey rejoindered. “Auntie’s over gossipping with Luelle Barnes and so you know she won’t be back ‘til late, and Uncle Barrett’s with Elin’s dad fixing the Danielsons’ roof, so he’s not around to catch me, either, and only Woo knows where Laurie is, so--”
“You’re not coming!” Briar swept over to the drying line a few feet over, draping her aunt’s dress over it. “And if you try, I’m telling!”
“What if I help you with the washing?” Kelcey said, finally swaggering from the doorway over toward the washing tub. Bumping up next to Elin as he plucked up a soaking handkerchief that belonged to his uncle, he asked, “Then can I come?”
Elin was silent for a moment as she scrubbed the folds of a dress before sighing. “They barely come at all, Bry. Maybe he should come so he can see.” She then turned to Kelcey. “But you have to do a good job helping us.”
“He’s going to get thrashed if he gets caught,” Briar muttered, stalking back toward the basin. “But fine. What do I care? Do a good job helping us and I won’t tell Auntie and Uncle Barrett if you come.”
“He might be right about them being gone for a while; we could be back before then. Now c’mon, let’s finish up!”
The three of them made short work of the laundry, and the moment they hung the last of the laundry out to dry, they began making their way to town. As they walked, Elin began speculating on what they would find.
“I wonder if they have anything special this time,” Elin wondered. “Or… Or if there’ll be someone working at one of the stands, showing us what they can do; that’d be so great!” She grinned. “What’re you hoping they’ll have?”
“I’d like a ring,” Kelcey said brightly. “Like Lord Charol’s!”
At this, Briar outwardly winced. “Kelcey. No. I swear to Woo, if you steal something--”
Kelcey rolled his eyes. “I learned my lesson on that Briar, gosh.” Still scowling, he looked toward Elin. “Do you have any money? So we can buy stuff?”
“Not a lot,” Elin shrugged, pulling out a coin from the pocket of her dress. “Mom didn’t give me money, so this was all I could take. And I really don’t want to spend it on a ring.” Her brow furrowed at the memory as she put the coin back in her pocket. “It’s okay though, I just like looking sometimes.”
“Lucky,” Kelcey said. “I wish I could get a coin. Do you know how much it’s worth?”
“It’s not yours, Kelcey, so it doesn’t matter,” Briar interjected-- and then, as the slipshod buildings that made up Wickerham’s meager city center came into a view up ahead of them, a bright look broke out across the girl’s face. “Look!” she called, pointing to a haphazard arrangements of caravans set to the left, smackdab in the middle of a derelict field. Dozens of people milled about them, merchants and townspeople both, the latter roving from caravan to caravan as they surveyed the varied wares. “Is that them, El?”
Elin beamed. “Yup!” she cried. She quickened her stride, moving forward quite a few steps before turning to Briar and Kelcey and ushering them to follow her pace. “C’mon, c’mon! Maybe they’re doing stuff right now!”
With that, she began running towards the caravans. Kelcey bounded after her like an eager, friendly mutt loping after his master, while Briar let out an indignant squawk before hurrying behind them both. She arrived to the arrangement of caravans several seconds after her brother and friend, panting and sour, and with her hands on her hips grumbled, “Thanks for waiting up!”
“You’re welcome!” Kelcey beamed, surveying the wares displayed around them in every which direction. “Ooh,” he breathed, shimmying past Quincy Mott and his wife, Alice, who lived on the farm catty-corner to his aunt and uncle’s, to get a better look at a spread of woocifixes. “Look, they’re so pretty.”
Elin shrugged at Briar in apology before moving forward to see what Kelcey was staring at. “Ooh, you’re right!” Elin looked them over, her eyes following each and every etching of one of the Woocifixes, until she lifted a hand to trail one etching with her finger. “It’s really nice,” she smiled.
The merchant in charge of the stand looked down at her. “Please don’t touch them unless you’re buying,” he said.
“It’s okay, I wasn’t!” Elin said. But she lifted her finger all the same her finger trailing the etchings from higher above. The merchant seemed satisfied by this and let them continue, keeping an eye on them. Then she stopped and looked back up at the merchant.
“Ooh, are you going to make any here?” she asked hopefully.
But the merchant shook his head. “I don’t carve them, I just sell them. Sorry.”
“Oh.” Elin’s face fell, and she went back to tracing the carvings.
As Elin studied the woocifixes, Kelcey’s attention had already been handily recaptured by the wagon two over, where an older, portly woman was selling a collection of wooden figurines no larger than the size of his thumb. Without a word, he practically pranced over to it, Briar trailing him with a hissed, “Kelcey!”
But he paid his sister no heed, rather sidling up to the display and instantly picking up a (rather inaccurate) likeness of a horse. “His legs are uneven,” he announced to the merchant, an almost accusing air to his voice.
“Put that down,” the woman ordered. “We don’t touch things we’re not buying, boy.”
“Who said I wasn’t buying?” He glanced over toward Elin, who was still fawning over the woocifixes. “My friend’s got money, you know. A whole coin!”
Elin finally got bored of tracing the woocifixes and looked up, only to find that Kelcey wasn’t at her side anymore. She looked around until she managed to catch Kelcey’s eye, and noticed the miniature horse carving in his hand. She quickly strode over to him, glancing at the horse before looking down at the other figurines.
“El!” He whirled to show the horse to her. “Look, isn’t it neat? Ooh-- or this one’s even neater.” He clumsily plunked the horse back down before swiping up a figurine of… what was either a rendering of Lord Woo, or a particularly grotesque chicken. “We should buy it, Elin,” he said soberly. “It’s just like the chickens that got ate!”
Elin glanced at the figurine, but shook her head. “I don’t want to buy it. I haven’t even seen what else is here.”
“But Elin,” Kelcey whined. “I could use it as a gift for Auntie and Uncle Barrett. To show them that I’m sorry!”
“Then they’ll know you left the farm.” Briar frowned. “Come on, Kelc. Let’s see what else there is.”
Elin nodded and started through the crowd to some more stalls, some of which had more artful figurines, some which were tools or supplements to farming supplies. Briar hurried after her, Kelcey joining a few moments after that-- just as, a few stalls down, Elin suddenly stopped, her eyes locking on the merchant who was sitting behind it, working on embroidery for a jacket.
“I’m gonna stop and watch,” Elin announced to her friends as she moved closer, her eyes not moving from the merchant’s work.
“But we can’t afford that,” Kelcey said, clearly having decided that Elin’s sole coin counted as joint property. Reaching out, he took a hold of her wrist and attempted to tug her forward. “Come on. I think they’re selling sweets in that cart, El. Ginger sweets!”
“Let her watch, Kelc.” Briar glowered. “You’re only here ‘cos we let you come, so you don’t get to be in charge.”
“But I’m older!” Kelcey snapped. “So I am in charge, you have to listen to me--”
“No, I don’t!” Venom flashing in her eyes, she pushed him-- not hard, but enough for him to stumble and drop Elin’s wrist in the process.
“Yes, you do!” His voice growing louder, he pushed her back.
Elin tried tugging back her wrist when Kelcey tugged it, trying to watch the embroiderer anyway when she suddenly stumbled out of his grip as he let go of her. Her concentration broken, she turned towards the quarreling siblings and moved towards them.
“Hey, hey!” Elin cried. “I’m just wanna watch. You can still look at other stuff.”
“What are you kids doing by yourselves?” A voice behind them made Elin froze, and she looked up and turned towards him. It was the couple from earlier, Quincy and Alice Mott.
“We’re just looking,” Elin explained.
But Quincy was looking over at Kelcey. “That’s not what I’m seeing here. What are you doing this time, Kelcey?”
“Nothing!” Kelcey said-- but then immediately ruined this claim when, unable to resist, he gave Briar another small shove.
A poor idea; in an instant Quincy had taken a rough hold of his arm and yanked him away from his little sister, reeling Kelcey in toward himself as one might a flopping fish on a line. “That doesn’t look like nothing,” the man scolded, his grip tightening when Kelcey tried to thrash out of it. “Stop that,” Quincy went on. “You’ll only make a fool of yourself.”
“I haven’t done anything!” Kelcey practically screeched. “Tell him, Bry!” His sister remained silent, glaring at him. “... Elin!”
Elin bit her lip, as if unsure of what to do. Eventually, she looked up at Mott. “W-we were arguing,” she said. “But merchants don’t come often and we wanna see. We’ll try to watch him better, promise.”
“There you are.” The Motts and all three children swiveled their heads at the barked voice as the older merchant woman from the figurine caravan stalked over toward them, her lips drawn tight and face red as flame. “Did you think I wouldn’t notice?” she growled on, jabbing an accusing finger at Kelcey, who’d gone very suddenly still in Quincy’s grip. “Little boy pawing all over my trinkets and then, like magic, one’s gone. The one you were so desperate to buy, no less!”
“Kelcey,” Quincy Mott snapped, giving a sharp whack to the back of Kelcey’s head. “Turn out your pockets. Now!”
“But… I… she’s mad,” Kelcey said. “I didn’t take anything, Mister Mott!”
“Aye, I’m sure you didn’t.” His neighbour thumped him again. “Now, turn them out.”
Elin stared in shock at the entire altercation before turning to Kelcey. “Kelcey, don’t, just give it back!”
“Fine.” Dejectedly, with the arm that wasn’t still snared in Quincy’s grip, he pulled the small figurine out from his pocket and held it toward the merchant woman. “We were going to come back and pay for it,” he said, refusing to meet her acidic stare. “Promise.”
“Oh, yes, because that’s how buying things work-- you take first, pay later.” She glared at him, and then looking to the Motts asked, “Are these your brats?”
“Fortunately not,” Alice Mott said. “But we’ll make sure they’re dealt with, miss. We hardly approve of stealing in our village-- we’re very sorry they’ve troubled you.” Grabbing a hold of Elin and Briar with either hand, she instructed, “Say sorry. All of you.”
“But I didn’t do anything!” Briar gasped, knowing better than to squirm against Alice’s grasp. “Kelcey’s the one who took it, not us.”
“I wasn’t even fighting!” Elin protested.
“Now,” Alice insisted. “You said you’d watch him better? Well, you’ve already done a poor job at that.”
Elin pouted, before sighing. “I’msorry,” she mumbled.
“So I can hear you,” Alice insisted.
“...I’m sorry.” But there was no sincerity in her voice, as she found no source for an apology.
“And Briar?” Alice prompted, tugging on the girl’s arm for effect.
Briar, her gaze planted firmly on the ground beneath, murmured, “I’m sorry.”
“Your turn now, Kelcey,” Quincy said.
Kelcey sighed dramatically, as if he’d just been ordered to do something so very, very awful and unwarranted. “I’m sorry,” he muttered, making another ill-advised attempt to thrash out of Quincy’s grip but only earning himself another whack in the process.
“You said you were planning to go back later and buy it, did you?” Quincy said. “I take that to mean you’ve money on you?”
“Uh-huh.” Kelcey kicked at the dirt beneath. “But it’s ours.”
“Not anymore.” Quincy pointed to the merchant woman, who, in spite of the forced apologies, still seemed rather incensed. “Give it to her, Kelcey. Now. To show that you’re really sorry about what you’ve done.”
“I don’t have it,” he whined. “Elin does. But you can’t take it! We need it!”
Elin gaped in horror. “He never said that! It’s not his, it’s mine, I didn’t even want to buy it! I didn’t know he was even gonna do that!”
“I don’t care.” Quincy’s voice was steel. “Give it to her, Elin. I think your parents will be upset with you enough as it is, without me having also to report to them that you were talking back to me.”
“You’re… you’re going to tell on us?” This was Briar, his bottom lip now quivering. “But--” She took a deep breath as she tried to calm herself, but her voice remained pitchy as she continued, “El and I didn’t do nothing. So you don’t have to tell.”
“Hush.” Alice sighed. “Now, Elin, give the woman your coin. Now.”
“But…” Elin looked distressed. “But he stole it, I didn’t. A-and they already said I could come…”
“We’ll see about that,” Quincy said folding his arms. “Now, give her the coin.”
Elin stood, moping, shoving her hands into her pockets but hesitating.
“One…” Alice counted. “Two…”
Elin scowled and took the coin out of her hand, moving forward and plopping it into the merchant’s hand. “Sorry ‘bout Kelcey,” she mumbled before walking back.
“Thank you,” the merchant said icily. Closing her palm around the coin, she turned back toward her caravan and departed for it without another word, her steps practically stabbing the ground beneath.
Once she was gone, Quincy glanced down at the three errant children. “I’ve half a mind to send you all skittering back home,” he said. “But knowing this one”-- he shook Kelcey, who was still tight in his grip-- “I’d find you an hour from now scooping frogs out of the Barlows’ pond or tormenting the Barnes’ goats, none of you having learned your lesson at all.”
“We won’t,” Briar said. “Promise. And we have learned our lesson. Right, Kelcey?”
“Uh-huh.” He was about as convincing as a dead toad. “We have.”
“Let’s just have them sit over there, Quincy.” Alice pointed to an empty patch of dirt at the far edge of the merchants’ spread. “They can sit and reflect on their misdeeds while we finish up here, and then we can drop them off at their homes on our way home. Both the Ryers’ and the Johnsons’ are on our way, anyhow.”
Elin’s eyes were stuck on the ground, not looking up at the Motts. “Couldn’t we sit there?” She indicated to a spot closer to the embroiderer. “So we can at least look at stuff?”
“After the way you three have been? I don’t think so.” Quincy said. “Go on over there now. And if we look over and find you’ve moved from your spots, then you’ll hardly need to wait until you’re home for punishment.”
Elin scowled, but began making her way over, Kelcey and Briar following. As they walked, she still kept glancing over at the other stalls, wistfully gazing over the items she couldn’t inspect closer. Finally, they reached the patch of dirt, and she plopped down unceremoniously, her eyes stuck on the merchants.
“...You had to take it,” Elin grumbled folding her arms around herself. “And now I’ve lost my money, we’re gonna get in trouble for what you did, and we can’t look at anything. Thanks a lot.”
“I wouldn’t have had to take it if you’d just let me use our coin to buy it!” Kelcey huffed. “I told you why I needed it, but you didn’t care.”
“It’s not her fault you can’t keep your hands to yourself!” Briar snarled. Then, to Elin: “I told you we shouldn’t have let him come with us. He ruins everything.”
Elin didn’t look up as she sighed. “...Maybe you were right, Briar. Now we can’t look at anything. I was saving that coin for something. It wasn’t for you. I…” She glanced away. “I already took a chance taking it before I left.”
“Took it?” Kelcey furrowed his brow. “... You mean you stole it?” He gaped at her, and when she didn’t correct him, his stare turned into an outright glower. “You yell at me for stealing, but you stole first!”
“Oh, Woo.” Briar buried her face into her sleeve. “Both of you are awful! Uncle Barrett and Auntie will never believe I didn’t know about any of it. Never.”
Elin winced. “I-I was would’ve gotten something others in my family would’ve liked. And it wasn’t much. I would’ve given it back if I didn’t use it. I-it’s not like stealing from a merchant.” She frowned when they didn’t respond before looking down at the ground.
“Doing what with a merchant now?” A voice came from their side that caused Elin to jump in her seat. The childrens’ heads whirled over to find the forms of Philip Ryer and Barrett Johnson.
Elin gaped. “Daddy..”
“The Motts told us you might be here,” Philip said. “What do you all have to say for yourselves?”
“And I should like to remind you,” Barrett cut in cooly, his dark eyes trained down on the children, “that I do not appreciate lies. I’ve spent the entire blasted morning trying to patch a leaky roof with nothing more than rotting wood and a prayer, and so you can imagine my delight and surprise when, upon finally taking a break to browse the caravans, I’m immediately intercepted by Quincy Mott and told my niece and nephew aren’t back at home doing chores as they ought to be, but raising hell in the marketplace.”
“I…” Briar swallowed hard. “I finished my chores, Uncle Barrett. So I… I thought it’d be okay.”
“Since when has gallivanting off into town without permission ever been okay?” the man snapped back.
“She did finish her chores,” Elin appealed. “And daddy, mom said I could go if I brought a friend.”
“I’m sure she also told you not to cause trouble if you did,” Philip said flatly.
“I wasn’t!” Elin argued. “It was Kelcey; he’s the one who stole from that merchant. I was just looking!”
“But you stole, too!” Kelcey shouted over her. “From your parents.” Looking up at Philip, he added eagerly, “She took a coin from you. Without asking! That’s stealing, isn’t it?”
“...Yes, it is,” Philip said. He then knelt down closer to Elin’s level, looking at her square in the eye. “Is this true, Elin?”
“I…” Any lies she had died on her tongue; Briar could corroborate his story anyway. “Yes.”
A reprimanding look was set on Philip’s face. “Do you know why we don’t give you money, Elin?”
“Because…” Elin thought. “Because I’m little?”
“Well, yes. But also because we’re not rich, Elin,” he said. “We can’t afford you doing that. And we don’t take money without asking.”
“But… but I was going to give back what I didn’t use, and buy something we’d all like...” Elin muttered. “Like-like a toy. Like one for Ciro--”
“If that’s what you wanted, you talk to us about it first. We decide these things together.” He put a firm hand on her shoulder. “And your mother’s going to hear about this the minute we get home.”
Elin looked down, her hands shaking as she bit her lip, looking pensive. “I-I thought… ...But I really didn’t make trouble with the merchants. That wasn’t me.”
“I can’t even begin to imagine who it could be, then,” Barrett said pointedly, and then with a fluid movement seized a hold of Kelcey’s wrist and hauled the boy upward.
“Hey--!” Kelcey squeaked.
“Don’t try my patience.” Barrett eyes danced with rage. “Because trust me, Kelcey, it’s already well worn down.” Looking to Briar, he gestured for her to stand, as well, and the small girl obliged sullenly, her lips pursed into a pout. “I’m going to assume,” Barrett continued once she was standing, “that both of you were aware of the fact that Kelcey’s permission to leave the farm without an adult at all was revoked after that nice incident with Lord Charol last month?”
“Yes,” Briar whispered, fidgeting on her heel.
“And I’m going to assume that you also knew, Briar, that you aren’t to leave the farm without asking first.”
“Yes.” She refused to meet her uncle’s furious gaze-- which he’d suddenly cast toward Elin.
“You said you asked your mama if it was okay for you to come here before you left, right?” he demanded, and when she nodded, he continued, “Then why, Elin, did you think it was okay to run off with Briar and Kelcey when they’d not received permission from my wife or me?”
Elin gulped. “Because… Because merchants barely come here. And I wanted them to see them before they left. Cause they don’t stay long.”
“...They stay for a few hours, Elin,” Philip assured, his expression softening, if only slightly. “You had plenty of time to try to find their aunt and uncle. Or you could’ve waited and gone with your mother.”
“But we don’t know when they leave,” Elin mumbled.
“There’s still time,” Philip continued. “Enough time for your mother to still come here later… But you can forget about going with her. You’re going straight home.”
“But I’ll be good--!”
“You haven’t been good today. So you’re going home and staying home. That’s final.”
“Same goes for you,” Barrett said to Briar and Kelcey. “And Woo help you, Kelcey, if this isn’t the last of your sticky fingers. After the ring last month…” He shook his head, exchanging a dark, almost desperate look with Philip that went miles above the children’s heads. “Come on, now,” he continued after a moment, reaching out expectantly toward Briar with the hand that wasn’t still curled around Kelcey’s wrist.
But the girl balked. “I’m not going anywhere, Uncle Barrett. You don’t need to hold my hand.”
“Briar.” The man, clearly exasperated, threaded his fingers through hers anyway, as if daring her to yank away from him; when she didn’t, he nodded. “Good. You’re in enough trouble already.” He glanced toward Philip again, his voice dry as he said, “You should have warned me, Phil. Before Darcy and I agreed to let Abbie send her kids yonder. Woo, keeping up with them is like herding fleas.”
“Maybe I should’ve; even if they’re often good, sometimes...“ He sighed, taking Elin’s wrist and bringing her up. “Come on, Elin, you’ve got a long talk waiting for you; no sense putting it off.”
“Say goodbye to Elin,” Barrett instructed. “I think it’ll be a while before you play together again.”
“Don’t we have to walk back the same way?” Kelcey asked brightly.
“We do, but Woo knows I don’t have time to stop back into town today, and I need to pick up a length of rope first. You two will wait quietly and obediently outside.”
“Rope?” Briar gawped at her uncle, a sudden panic flickering across her face. “B-but Uncle Barrett… we… I--”
Barrett snorted. “For John Barlow’s chicken killer dog, Briar. Not you. Woo, honey, what sort of man do you think I am?” His face softened if only by a bit, he nodded toward Philip. “I’ll swing by later with those supplies you needed, alright?”
Philip nodded. “Sounds good. I’ll be a few hours; I still have errands to run, even without Elin.”
Elin looked up at Briar and Kelcey. “...Bye,” she said solemnly.
“Bye,” Briar whispered. “See you… whenever, I guess.”
“Maybe we can all go and play with Mister Barlow’s dog later!” Kelcey said cheerfully. “Ooh, Uncle Barrett, can we--”
“No.” Barrett couldn’t help but laugh. “Even if you weren’t in a world of trouble, I don’t need you meeting the same fate as those chickens, Kelc. Now, come on. Let’s go.”
With that, they parted ways, with Barrett heading back towards the market and Philip leading Elin back home, keeping a hold on her hand.
“...I’m sorry, Daddy,” she said after some time. “I-I didn’t think--”
“Wait to tell that to your mother too,” he said. “Not that you don’t have to apologize to me, but you did promise her that you would behave. And you got Kelcey and Briar in trouble too.”
Elin looked away in though, not looking up at her father. Philip let out a sigh. “You think of what you’ve done until we get home to your mother. Then we’ll talk.”
They walked the rest of the way back to the farm in relative silence, with Elin mulling over how a day that could have gone so well went so wrong.
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Post by Gelquie on May 18, 2015 19:10:58 GMT -5
Have an AU fic! It's... sad. It's also not possible to happen (thankfully), but if it were possible... This is what would happen. It's also not really finished. But I figure it's time to post this anyway. If there end up being more parts at some point in the future, I'll edit them in and make a note in the thread. (Celestial gets kudos for helping me name this.) A Stolen Curse(AU Story Timeline: Around the Coronation Wordcount: ~4.4K words) Elin was stock still in the middle of her room, her eyes out of focus. Her expression was blank, and though the streets outside were noisy with the sounds of some neighbor's birthday party, none of the sound reached her ears. It was a whole minute that she stood there until finally, she blinked, her eyes coming back into focus. Her breathing became shaky and heavy, and her face scrunched up as she began to shake. Wincing in pain, she pressed her arm to her stomach as she sunk to the floor, tears falling out of her eyes. “Why did... Why did they have to do that...? Why...?”Her voice was shaky, and broken by her sobs. Though the bed was only a few steps away, Elin curled up into a ball on the floor, trembling and crying, an exhausted look in her eyes. ”Make them stop... 'Woo please, make them stop...”*** It happened not too long ago, back when the conflict in Medieville was going on. That night, she had decided to spy on one of the Stallions, both to see what they could do and to see what they could show her. It had been a job Elin liked. Once she got used to the spying, she found that it was a very easy way for her to learn new things, things she might not have otherwise learned. And learning from them helped the cause too, not only to know what their enemies could do, but also what she could do with it. She remembered picking Ambrose that night, suspecting that he might know something useful. And she was curious to know what such a prominent member of the House could do. And so that night, she snuck through Stallion manor, taking care to avoid any pitfalls along the way. That was the easy part. That was what she was used to doing in all of her years as a Shadow. She hid herself well as she watched Ambrose enter his room. He had a bag of metal objects with him which he dropped onto the table in front of him. He didn't seem to notice any other presence in the room as he began rifling through them and unfurling some parchments. Blueprints, Elin realized. So this is the Inventor the Stallions keep mentioning... She smiled to herself at the thought. If she watched carefully, and learned what he could do, she'd know their arsenal... And maybe even learn how to make some of them for herself and for her cause. She just had to focus. And focus she did as the Stallion went to work. After some time into his work, however, he stopped, quill pausing above the parchment, a piece of metal in his hand dropping to the table. Elin was concerned for a moment that maybe he spotted her, but he merely stared straight ahead, not moving with the exception of breathing. Maybe he's daydreaming, Elin thought. She stared at him intently, waiting for him to continue working. That was when something... odd happened. As Elin stared, she suddenly began to see something crowd in at the edge of her vision, something white and... ethereal. Elin tried to shake her head, to break her focus from the Stallion man, but she found that she suddenly couldn't move, couldn't tear her eyes away from Ambrose. Her heart beat faster, but she couldn't do anything except continue to stare at Ambrose, and watch until her vision gave way altogether, her sight clouded with the ethereal mist. And then... Something else. Something... unfamiliar. Suddenly, she found herself in some building, one unlike any she had ever seen. People in strange clothes wandering about, going up and down stairs that could move, nearby shops playing unfamiliar music as sunlight streamed in from the window. In spite of the oddity of the situation, everyone else seemed to treat it as normal. There was one person in particular whom the vision focused on. A man in dark clothes and an unreadable look on his face as he rooted through a large bag on the ground. A few people were giving him strange looks as they passed, until finally, another man in strange clothing—maybe someone in authority—walked up to the man and tapped him on the shoulder. “Sir, is there a problem h--” The man didn't even finish before the man had turned around, carrying a strange device. And then... Blood. Chaos. Screams. Louds bangs... Murder. Everywhere...And Elin could only stare, torn between her desire to stop the man and her desire for whatever this was to end. Why was she here, why was this all happening like a dream, why was he doing this at all... Eventually, the fighting subsided, and the man in question was put down. And as some people began to survey the damage, and the casualties... It all began to go dark. And then... She was back in Stallion manor, staring once again at the Lord of Stallion, a look of horror in his eyes. But Elin was too distraught to pay too close attention to him. Her breathing had quickened, her heart rate accelerated, tears began to come from her eyes, and she did her best to choke down a sob. And for a long time, all Elin could focus on was on trying to keep quiet, and trying to not break down after all she had seen. She must have done a poor job, for about a minute later, the dazed Lord began casting glances towards where she was. Elin gritted her teeth as he got up and began to get closer. No... No...And as he neared her, only one thought ran through her brain, one she had been trying to hold back since she came back to the real world. Run.Elin pushed Ambrose aside in an attempt to stall him as she ran from her hiding spot and rushed out the door of his bedroom. She immediately went for the halls she was certain were less crowded, less likely to have people. She ran down and down, and never stopped until she was running outside Stallion manor, into the bushes, and off the site. She kept running through the town until she was in an alleyway, one she was certain was empty. She cast glances around her to ensure that no one was nearby. And then, breathless and her heart racing, she fell to the ground, backing up against the wall of a nearby building. Shaking and distraught, she buried her face into her knees and wept. *** The other Shadows kept asking her about her mission, what had happened, and why she didn't stay longer. But troubled and confused about what had happened, Elin kept her mouth shut. Her story had so many elements that could be waved off as make-believe. She had told her fellow Shadows many things before, but this? Something this fantastical, for no known reason? She doubted they would believe her. She doubted she would if it were anyone else. Besides, it had only happened one time, she thought. And only within Stallion manor. Perhaps she'd warn Laurie if she ever needed to steal from there, but only just enough to keep her safe; not the details. The rest... They didn't need to know. Not something that specific. Not for a one-time thing. That's what Elin thought, at least. Until it happened again. Elin wasn't even doing anything important at the time. She was in hiding at one of the Shadow hangouts, rooting through some of the disguises she had prepared for herself. As she began looking at an ensemble she put together, she began to feel it creep at the edge of her visions. And then, paralyzed, she saw it coming again. Please, no... she had thought. And once more, she found herself transported to another world. This one was not quite so fantastical, however. Nor was it as unpleasant. It wasn't even very noteworthy, really. Nothing more than a deer hunt being performed by strangely-dressed people. They didn't even successfully catch any deer. And yet when Elin broke out of the vision, she still found herself confused, her heart racing and her hands shaking. How long had she been out? Why was she seeing this, something that wasn't even important, and why didn't she go to the same place as last time? If it weren't for the strange way in which she came into the vision, she'd have thought she was dreaming, but her dreams were never that odd... Nonetheless, it still exhausted her immensely. And she couldn't help but feel her illness coming back. Why...? Was it it the stress? She didn't know. At least it wasn't so bad at the moment. She hoped that maybe it'd be temporary, whatever the Stallion had done to her. But she kept getting them, at least once a day. She couldn't predict when any of them could come, and she couldn't predict their content or how long they would keep her. What she did know for sure was that they were tiring her immensely, and the illness she only felt occasionally had become a constant. But she couldn't let that stop her from moving the revolution forward. Still, as time passed on, the other Shadows couldn't help but grow even more concerned. Elin's pace slowed, dark circles appeared under her eyes, and they were concerned with her not getting enough sleep. This was partially true anyway; Elin hadn't been able to sleep well since she first observed Ambrose, and a part of her didn't want to. Ever since her first vision, she had been having nightmares, and she had been worried about her visions seeping into her dreams and robbing her of sleep anyway. So she ended up minimizing sleep entirely. But Elin waved all concerns off. She knew that soon, the coronation would commence, and then the Shadows could take the throne properly. She'd be able to protect the other Shadows and Xavier from anything more that could threaten Kyth and its people, and finally, a proper power would be in place. Perhaps in power, she'd have a chance to avenge those who had died. After that, then she could focus on what was wrong and confront Stallion about their cruel trick and stop this once and for all. She had to hold out till then. She had to. Even so the other Shadows wouldn't let up, insisting that she rest. Again and again, they asked; again and again, Elin refused. She couldn't afford to let down the Shadows in their missions, and she couldn't afford to let Stallion's trick get to her. She had to win. And if she were to run herself ragged to finish what she started, then so be it. * * * The day of the coronation came, and Elin felt exhausted and ill. But as she repeatedly told herself, one more day. She had to finish. Just one more day. But the coronation did not go as expected. Just as their plan fell into play, the Courdonian nobles had a plan of their own... A deadly one. Much like the one she saw during... She shook her head. She had to finish the mission... But she also had to protect those she cared about. Even the ones who may not have known how much she cared about them... And so it was with fury when she attacked Duval, whom she found was strangling Xavier. And with help, they were able to put a stop to Duval until he was taken away. But Elin found herself even angrier at the sight of Ambrose. This had to have been his fault, and... No. She couldn't focus on that now. She didn't even want to look at him, in case something happened again. She set her sights on Xavier instead as she explained that she couldn't stay... Even as much as it pained her, especially as he looked into his concerned eyes. There was so much she wanted to say to him, so much she wanted to explain, but with what was going on... She forced herself away. Not now... Not with all that's happening...Things got worse for her as she went up the castle. She had already been feeling awful before, and it got worse as she moved along, to the point where she couldn't fight well, until the other Shadows told her to stop and to just keep an eye out for other people. It was, admittedly, harder to do that when Arthur almost ended up dead, if not for Orrin. Stallion had tried to strike again... Were there no depths to which they would not sink? But the mission was successful. And not only that, after Malik's death, and with the help of the former queen Maia, the Courdonian attack had stopped too. And Elin felt... miserable, as if she was about to drop at any moment. And yet she caught sight of Ambrose... And a part of her told herself to keep going, to demand answers now. This proved to be utterly impossible. To Elin's horror, as she tried to approach the Stallion, she began to feel the pricks in her eyes as another vision began. And before her eyes, another scenario played out. One that seemed tame at first; two children playing with marbles beside a house. But then the ground began to shake, something fell, and then... As Elin broke out of the vision, she felt so many eyes staring at her. Other people, the Shadows, the Stallions... Xavier... Elin didn't even realize how her face had contorted into that of distress, exhaustion, and pain. She could only feel herself wobbling on the spot, badly shaking as immense pain shot through her body. As much as she wanted to, she knew she couldn't stay on her feet much longer. But the Stallion... She turned to Ambrose, wanting to give him a look, but finding herself unable to. ”...What... What have you done to me? she asked wearily. The lord only looked confused and shook his weary head before giving Elin an ominous answer. “I haven't done anything to you, Elin. Believe me.” Elin could only just register the answer before everything went dark, and she felt herself falling as she lost consciousness. Elin didn't know how much time had passed before she woke up, but she barely had a moment to register what was happening before she began to be fed a series of potions. Some of them made her relaxed but woozy, and it felt even harder to concentrate on what was going on and what everyone was saying. From what she could tell, it seemed she was incredibly lucky to be alive. She could vaguely tell that she seemed to be in some sort of makeshift medical facility, probably tending to all the wounded at the coronation. She could see other people with her, though. To her left was her Aunt Clare, who had finally found her; and to her right, Xavier, looking simultaneously concerned and immensely relieved. And among them was Ilsa, who also looked concerned, but seemed to be giving them their space. Elin looked at all of them with a blank expression in her eyes, feeling too lightheaded to fully comprehend the situation, or whatever words they were saying. She just felt weak, shaky, delirious, and tired.In spite of all of this, Elin tried to stay awake again, certain that she would have more nightmares if she didn't. But the others seemed to notice this and take concern, and soon, a healer fed her another potion. One that made her feel more lightheaded than ever, barely able to string her thoughts together... And shortly after, she fell asleep. * * * At least an entire day had passed by the time Elin woke up, and she found herself back at Clare's home. Admittedly, she did feel a lot better, even if just from sleeping. She still had her nightmares, but she was relieved to realize that for the entire time she slept, she didn't have a single vision. The idea that she could sleep without being attacked by a vision made the situation slightly better, at least. But she still wasn't in good condition. Her illness had diminished, but not entirely. She was still shaky and in tremendous amounts of pain. Also, she was hungry. Very hungry. Thankfully, Clare was quick to fix that as soon as Elin was awake. She walked in with a plate of food and readily put it in front of her, urging her to eat. Elin was slow to move, and Clare had to help her sit up enough to eat. For a long time, neither of them spoke, and merely waited for Elin to eat enough for Clare to be confident that Elin would be more willing to talk. “Are you feeling any better?” Clare asked. Elin was silent for a long time, pondering the question. She knew quite well that she was no better compared to the last time she saw her aunt, but that's not what she was asking. For all she knew, her aunt thought she was only just ill again. If so, it was a partially false viewpoint that Elin chose not to correct. “...Only a little,” Elin replied. “...Not much at all. ...How did I get here?” “I brought you here after you collapsed.” Elin only stared before shaking her head. “ No, I... Auntie, I can't be here. Th-they're after me, and I'm only putting you at risk by staying. Y-you don't deserve that. I-I need to--” “You need to stay and rest,” Clare said firmly. “Elin, it hasn't been long since the coronation. I doubt anyone wants to go after anyone right now. And even if they do come, they have to get through me first.” “But I don't want that,” Elin said. “I don't want to put you in more danger just because of me. And... And danger's all I'm going to bring if I stay...” “If you're not careful, you're going to be a danger to yourself. The Healer told me that you had collapsed, and that...” Clare trailed off, as if she didn't want to finish. “...And that what?” Elin urged. “...I shouldn't alarm you right now.” “Tell me, please.” “...She said that it had been a very close call.” Elin's eyes went wide, and Clare reached over and grasped Elin's hand. “She still saved your life, Elin,” Clare said. “You're not going to die now. And I won't let you. I missed you too much to risk anything like that happening.” Elin couldn't help but smile weakly at this. In spite of everything going on, it was still comforting to have Clare's support. She thought, for a moment, that maybe she would be okay. Then she felt the pinpricks around her eyes. “No,” Elin whispered. Clare blinked and spoke, her voice gradually fading. “Elin? Elin, what's wrong?” “J-just go, just--” Elin didn't finish her sentence as she entered another vision. This time, one with a girl, walking warily in a strange house, keeping an eye out as if she was looking for something. There were footsteps, and she kept whirling around, but she saw nothing. This continued for some time, and then at once, she was assaulted. The appearance of a sudden figure, the flash of a knife, and then... Elin broke out of the vision as quickly as she entered into it, unable to keep the scream from her lips. She shook in fear, and trembled as the ache in her body worsened, her headache weighing down more, and she felt as if she was being pulled apart. She was barely aware of Clare's presence, her hands on both of Elin's shoulders, saying something that Elin couldn't make out at first. “ Elin! Elin! Elin, say something, please!” Elin mumbled wearily, unable to keep her thoughts straight. “Anywhere, from anywhere... Out of nowhere, i-it... Why...? What happened, what...?” “That's what I want to know. Elin, please,” Clare's grip on Elin's shoulders tightened. “Tell me what's wrong.” Elin shook her head, still trying to wrap the sentence around her weary head. “N-no... I-I didn't want you to see, i-it's not going... it's... I-I can't...” ”Elin,” Clare repeated more firmly. Elin was silent for a long time before replying. “N-no, i-it doesn't make sense. None of it... I-I can't...” “Okay. Okay, deep breaths, try to calm down, we can--” ”I can't calm down!” Elin cried, tears streaming down her face. “I-it won't go away, I-I can't get it to. Stallion... Or not. ...Something. Something about them, I don't know. That man, it had to be that man, it didn't happen before him, before that night. B-but I don't know what it is or why, but, but...” She let out a strong shiver. “I-it's ruining my life, Auntie.” Elin put a face to her hand, doing her best to hold the tears back. She instead felt herself being pulled into a hug, and Elin let out a sob into her Aunt's shoulder. “I-I don't know what to do,” Elin cracked out. “B-but... I just know it's not going away. A-And I shouldn't burden you with that. I-it's too much. I-I could still be at risk, and I'm stuck here, w-with all of this, with...” “Elin, it's not a burden for me to help you, especially after you've been gone for so long. I'm here. But I can't help you if you don't tell me what's wrong.” Elin was silent for a long moment before squeezing her eyes shut tightly. She was tired of seeing. “Auntie... I don't know what it is, but I... I think I'm going crazy.” She felt a pat on her back, and heard Clare's voice, edged with worry. “What do you mean?” “I-I'm spacing out for no reason. Seeing things that don't make sense. A-and it won't stop.” Elin shook her head. “It's not going to stop... I've tried and tried... I can't do anything...” She pressed her head into Clare's shoulder. “There's nothing you can do. I'm not even making sense anymore. N-nothing's making sense anymore... Why would I make sense when nothing is?” “I...” Clare paused, leaving a tentative silence between them as Elin continued to cry. Finally, Clare spoke again, slowly and carefully. “I think you did make some sense there. I thought something was bugging you.” “Oh Auntie...” Elin shook her head. “You don't know the half of it.” “I'll still try to help you however I can. How long has this been going on?” “I... I don't know, I don't even remember. I-it's felt like forever. ...B-but I, I know it happened shortly after I e-escaped jail.” Clare blinked. “You were in jail?” Elin looked up. “You didn't know?” “I didn't hear anything,” Clare responded, a worried frown on her face. “Your letter didn't... didn't tell me much.” “I...” Elin's head fell on her aunt's shoulder again. “I was. By the Jades. Th-that's why I disappeared. A-and that's why I can't stay. I-if the nobles don't like what we did, if they're still after me, th-then... then you're in danger too.” Elin gripped her aunt's shoulder firmly. “And I can't let that happen to you! Better if I just go, and leave you out of this.” “No.” Clare spoke so firmly and suddenly that it made Elin look up with a start. “I'm not leaving my niece behind when she's suffering like this. And not after you've disappeared for so long. I want to help you, Elin. If the nobles have a problem with me taking care of my niece, then so be it.” “Th-that...” Elin trailed off, unable to form thoughts in her head. “But if they come, and they want to do something to you because I'm here...” “If it makes you feel better, I won't tell them you're here,” Clare said. “But they've got their own concerns right now; enough that they wouldn't focus on one... one...” Elin sighed. “Rebel,” she finished. There was another silence between them, and Elin could tell from the way her aunt held her that something about this bothered her. But Clare seemed to decide to not elaborate. “I'm still helping you. Don't try to change my mind; I'm helping you because I want to.” “There's nothing you can do,” Elin sobbed. “...No, I can't help you with what's going on in your mind,” Clare admitted. “As much as I wish I could. But I can make the rest better in the meantime, so that you can spend more time trying to figure out how to fix this.” Elin was silent for a moment before speaking again, her voice taking a softer, somber tone. “I can't fix this,” Elin said. “There's nothing I can do to fix this. I-if Ambrose really didn't do anything, if he didn't lie, then... Then what am I supposed to do?” Elin found herself slumping in Clare's arms. “I don't want to live like this...” “...There might be something we haven't thought of,” Clare said. “Let me help you. Even if we can't find anything... Well, like your illness, I'm sure we can find a way to manage it.” “Manage it after it's hit,” Elin muttered. “But I... I don't want this at all. I'd rather be ill every day than have my mind work against me and make me feel this... this a- awful.” Clare frowned. “I know. But maybe we'll find a way.” Elin shivered in Clare's grasp, feeling weaker by the moment. “I wish...” They didn't say much after that; Clare merely let Elin continue to cry into her shoulder until the young girl began to feel tired again. Eventually, Elin told Clare that she wanted to get some sleep, so Clare left some things on the bedside, told her to call if she needed her, and left her alone. Though Elin lay on the bed, she did not sleep. She would eventually, she was certain. But she couldn't sleep with the weight of the situation pressing on her mind. It's too much... Elin thought. Just make it stop...
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