Showing posts with label Tarran. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Tarran. Show all posts
Current Character Description - Tarran Atherton
Clearly a young man, only recently come of age, Tarran nevertheless displays a
level of confidence reminiscent of someone much older, possessed of experience
and knowledge beyond his years. Slightly taller than average, and slender for
a human, his movements bely a distinctive grace, a smoothness that only the
best trained fighters can hope to achieve. His clothing is of fine quality,
if plain, and he definitely shows a preference for the color black; his flowing
black tunic and pants give him an almost shadowy appearance, although he does
not seem like the type to hide often. Then again, perhaps he only seems that
way when not hidden. He has dark, slightly wavy hair, cut to shoulder-length,
and sparkling brown eyes, resembling his parents'. A smile comes readily to
his handsome, chiseled features, clean-shaven as always, as clearly he is one
to take good care of himself. At his waist are belted a pair of worn leather-
hilted shortswords concealed within tooled black leather sheaths; the unadorned
hilt of at least one dagger is also visible on his person. His demeanor is
pleasant, almost exuberant, but there is an intensity in his gaze, and he gives
the impression of dangerous competence, a man who others would be wise not to
cross.
Time
Pride. It was the single word that kept coming back to Sanria, thudding through her mind in time with her beating heart. Her son, her boy, her Orn was becoming a man. Certainly, he still had missteps - his excitement bubbling over like a child, words hastily said without thought when he was nervous, but in the setting sun of the day, she had watched her little boy negotiate with an orc in a free, clear, unabashed way. He had negotiated with the skill of a man...
Sanria had finally taken him to the castle. Taken him to meet the Rilmani and any member of the clan that would meet with him. Her heart warmed at the awe on his face - at once so young and so grown. She had been alive for so many years, years beyond her natural time, but never felt so aged as when Orn, big and gangly, jogged to the edge of the floating island with the exuberance of a lab- orador puppy. "Mirin and Reggie should see this!" Her heart tightened. Al- ready the sphere of his life was moving away from her shadow, gaining a light of its own. Though Emalia and Tarran had grown up, this was the first time she got to see it without guilt, but bent with the weight of loss.
They had entered the castle and met with Jayden and Sanria felt sorrow flitter like a bird behind the cage of her bones. Orn seemed to absorb the tenderness Jayden showed like a sponge. A fatherliness that Colin had obliterated when he had killed Arlenia. Jayden had sensed the sorrow from both of them, and Sanria knew, deep down, she had to get Colin better. She had to try to help Orn look at his own father the way he had looked at Jayden.
Sanria had taken Orn to her office when the yell interrupted their discussion, "Who in there!!!!! Let Kronk in!!!!!!!" Then, leading her son, Sanria stepped out of the castle and face to face with a hulking orc. Fear ripped through her at the sight of the sword and the armor, and her son, her boy, her Orn had stepped in front of -her-. Somehow, time had passed. Her mind swung like a pendulum - boy, man, boy, man. Then she watched with awe as Orn laid down his staff and somehow befriended the orc named Kronk. He had negotiated with the skill of a man.
Sanria had finally taken him to the castle. Taken him to meet the Rilmani and any member of the clan that would meet with him. Her heart warmed at the awe on his face - at once so young and so grown. She had been alive for so many years, years beyond her natural time, but never felt so aged as when Orn, big and gangly, jogged to the edge of the floating island with the exuberance of a lab- orador puppy. "Mirin and Reggie should see this!" Her heart tightened. Al- ready the sphere of his life was moving away from her shadow, gaining a light of its own. Though Emalia and Tarran had grown up, this was the first time she got to see it without guilt, but bent with the weight of loss.
They had entered the castle and met with Jayden and Sanria felt sorrow flitter like a bird behind the cage of her bones. Orn seemed to absorb the tenderness Jayden showed like a sponge. A fatherliness that Colin had obliterated when he had killed Arlenia. Jayden had sensed the sorrow from both of them, and Sanria knew, deep down, she had to get Colin better. She had to try to help Orn look at his own father the way he had looked at Jayden.
Sanria had taken Orn to her office when the yell interrupted their discussion, "Who in there!!!!! Let Kronk in!!!!!!!" Then, leading her son, Sanria stepped out of the castle and face to face with a hulking orc. Fear ripped through her at the sight of the sword and the armor, and her son, her boy, her Orn had stepped in front of -her-. Somehow, time had passed. Her mind swung like a pendulum - boy, man, boy, man. Then she watched with awe as Orn laid down his staff and somehow befriended the orc named Kronk. He had negotiated with the skill of a man.
Speeding Things Along (1-2)
Sanria's mind tripped along the narrow line between the requests Colin had made of her, and the desire that sat coiled at in the pit of her stomach. Give up remembering or try to find a way to get everything in her old life back. She tired of the darkness - the looming black wall. She tired of the dreams - the green eyes and the man that accompanied them. If she could remember, perhaps the dreams would stop and the darkness would lift. Given what she knew now, she could fix her life and be able to know people she once knew.
In the sitting room, the thought hit her once again that she could approach Thasmudyan about speeding up her pregnancy. Colin didn't want her to do that either. He had expressed his fears - the idea that her ex-husband might be able to get her to remember not only her past, but him, was more than Colin wanted to think about. But Sanria's mind began to turn. It was possible to get nearer to this man she didn't remember by asking him to speed her pregnancy, then perhaps he would aid her in getting back her memories.
She found Thasmudyan in the library bent over the desk, writing. She had absolutely no recollection of the man at all, nor the child they had together lifetimes ago. She did find him handsome, but as for anything else - it was just as dark as everything else from her past. "Can I ask you a question? A favor, actually?" Sanria asked after approaching him.
"Of course. What's on your mind?"
"I... do you think... I would really like for Orn to have a sibling that ages with him and I... Do you think you could make this child like him?"
"You mean..."
"I - don't mean to intrude upon your abilities. Colin said I shouldn't bother you with it. I just... I don't know what you did before that made Orn grow like he has..."
"Well.. to focus the power is quite draining. I'd be fine, of course.."
"Then let's help Leandra grow," Sanria said, holding her hand out to him.
It worried her when Thasmudyan hesitated and wore an uncertain expression on his face. "Is everything alright?" she asked.
"Well, there is something else... It's a rather ...intimate experience."
"How do you mean?"
"We develop a sort of empathy for each other... I can feel what you feel, and vice versa."
"Well, there's nothing wrong with that. I don't really remember anything. My day consists of the joy of a babbling brook, my son..."
"I'm not so sure you want to hear what goes around in my head, though..."
"Well... try me."
The blush that spread over Thasmudyan's cheeks, though faint, was enough to get Sanria to notice. Her curiosity was piqued, but something told her to give the man a way out. "I'm sorry. I suppose even you have things you don't wish to share. It's... alright."
"No, it's alright... just reminded me that there's another way to get the effect you're after... but it'd be inappropriate."
"What way? Please, you can say anything. I'll take no offense."
"You're married," he replied with a soft chuckle.
Sanria knew she was close to an answer of sorts. "Yes, but... I don't know how it could prevent you from speaking words..."
"So you're right. I can still speak words, can't I? Well, since you asked. My power gets released, unintentionally, when I... well, when I have sex with someone. In fact, it's already happened before, with Tarran."
"You had sex with Tarran? You'll have to forgive me, I don't know the name so I'm not sure if I should be... well... what I should think."
The look on Thasmudyan's face let Sanria know she was on the wrong track. "He's your son," the man replied.
"Oh...," Sanria replied, thoroughly embarassed. "I... well... I forget that I have more than Orn sometimes..."
"Not mine, though, but while you were pregnant with him, we... well, you know."
It struck Sanria hard. The woman in her past was definitely worlds apart from who she was now. The idea that she had cheated on her husband before her husband before this husband... "Perhaps we should... just start with healing me..."
"Yes, that's probably best..." Thasmudyan replied.
Sanria led Thasmudyan out to the stream beside the cavern and sat by the water's edge. The place was special to her - all the wonderful moments with Orn were spent here - watching the boy as he grew. It only seemed fitting to speed Leandra along here too. They would grow up close together, even if magic made them grow faster. "What do I need to do?" she asked.
"You don't need to do anything. Just take my hand."
Sanria did as told, feeling odd as Thasmudyan intertwined his fingers with hers. The man closed his eyes and Sanria took the time to look over his face. She could remember nothing of him. Nothing at all. The dark wall confronted her each time she tried to step backward in time. It was -
The sudden rush of healing life energy that blew through her was incredible, and took Sanria's breath away. It was as though every cell in her body was vibrating at the frequency of light, each in tune with the other, each in perfect concert with every other living thing around her. By the time it ended and they parted, Sanria could feel the affection the man held for her - and could feel her own body remembering something her mind could not.
In the sitting room, the thought hit her once again that she could approach Thasmudyan about speeding up her pregnancy. Colin didn't want her to do that either. He had expressed his fears - the idea that her ex-husband might be able to get her to remember not only her past, but him, was more than Colin wanted to think about. But Sanria's mind began to turn. It was possible to get nearer to this man she didn't remember by asking him to speed her pregnancy, then perhaps he would aid her in getting back her memories.
She found Thasmudyan in the library bent over the desk, writing. She had absolutely no recollection of the man at all, nor the child they had together lifetimes ago. She did find him handsome, but as for anything else - it was just as dark as everything else from her past. "Can I ask you a question? A favor, actually?" Sanria asked after approaching him.
"Of course. What's on your mind?"
"I... do you think... I would really like for Orn to have a sibling that ages with him and I... Do you think you could make this child like him?"
"You mean..."
"I - don't mean to intrude upon your abilities. Colin said I shouldn't bother you with it. I just... I don't know what you did before that made Orn grow like he has..."
"Well.. to focus the power is quite draining. I'd be fine, of course.."
"Then let's help Leandra grow," Sanria said, holding her hand out to him.
It worried her when Thasmudyan hesitated and wore an uncertain expression on his face. "Is everything alright?" she asked.
"Well, there is something else... It's a rather ...intimate experience."
"How do you mean?"
"We develop a sort of empathy for each other... I can feel what you feel, and vice versa."
"Well, there's nothing wrong with that. I don't really remember anything. My day consists of the joy of a babbling brook, my son..."
"I'm not so sure you want to hear what goes around in my head, though..."
"Well... try me."
The blush that spread over Thasmudyan's cheeks, though faint, was enough to get Sanria to notice. Her curiosity was piqued, but something told her to give the man a way out. "I'm sorry. I suppose even you have things you don't wish to share. It's... alright."
"No, it's alright... just reminded me that there's another way to get the effect you're after... but it'd be inappropriate."
"What way? Please, you can say anything. I'll take no offense."
"You're married," he replied with a soft chuckle.
Sanria knew she was close to an answer of sorts. "Yes, but... I don't know how it could prevent you from speaking words..."
"So you're right. I can still speak words, can't I? Well, since you asked. My power gets released, unintentionally, when I... well, when I have sex with someone. In fact, it's already happened before, with Tarran."
"You had sex with Tarran? You'll have to forgive me, I don't know the name so I'm not sure if I should be... well... what I should think."
The look on Thasmudyan's face let Sanria know she was on the wrong track. "He's your son," the man replied.
"Oh...," Sanria replied, thoroughly embarassed. "I... well... I forget that I have more than Orn sometimes..."
"Not mine, though, but while you were pregnant with him, we... well, you know."
It struck Sanria hard. The woman in her past was definitely worlds apart from who she was now. The idea that she had cheated on her husband before her husband before this husband... "Perhaps we should... just start with healing me..."
"Yes, that's probably best..." Thasmudyan replied.
Sanria led Thasmudyan out to the stream beside the cavern and sat by the water's edge. The place was special to her - all the wonderful moments with Orn were spent here - watching the boy as he grew. It only seemed fitting to speed Leandra along here too. They would grow up close together, even if magic made them grow faster. "What do I need to do?" she asked.
"You don't need to do anything. Just take my hand."
Sanria did as told, feeling odd as Thasmudyan intertwined his fingers with hers. The man closed his eyes and Sanria took the time to look over his face. She could remember nothing of him. Nothing at all. The dark wall confronted her each time she tried to step backward in time. It was -
The sudden rush of healing life energy that blew through her was incredible, and took Sanria's breath away. It was as though every cell in her body was vibrating at the frequency of light, each in tune with the other, each in perfect concert with every other living thing around her. By the time it ended and they parted, Sanria could feel the affection the man held for her - and could feel her own body remembering something her mind could not.
Final Words
Sanria had gone as far north as she could. Her throat raw from breathing in the freeing air. The tears on her cheeks grew icy before they had even coursed their way down her face, leaving a dried trail of saltwater. She couldn't feel her feet. She couldn't feel her hands. She couldn't feel anything but the void at the center of her chest that spread from her heart and into the entirety of her being. She stumbled and fell into the snow on her hands and knees, her palms reddening with the cold. Karen, the help's voice rang in her mind, 'I'm sorry, M'lady... we found him by the fire... he's dead.'
Sanria let out a roar of anguish and sat on her heels. She had lost Emalia. She had lost touch with Tarran. She had lost two children that never even made it to birth. She had lost her grasp on a realm that made everything okay. She had barely kept herself together. She had dared hope that the night spent by the fire with Throm was the beginning of what should have been and what finally would be. She had no idea that it would be the last time she'd see him alive.
Sanria slid from her heels and sat in the frigid snow absolutely broken. She wanted to tear out the thick feeling that curled in her chest and throw it away, but she couldn't grasp it. The pain was beyond her reckoning - as was everything else. She let out a gut wrenching howl and gripped her head in her hands. She screamed out his name, the word billowing steam from her mouth. There would be no Bastion in the skies to save her this time. There would be no rescue. There would never be.
Sanria opened her pack, barely able to see for the tears that continually welled up in her eyes. She found what she sought, and could barely grip the handle of the dagger, so numb were her fingers. She stared for a long time at the glinting metal, the steel shining white in reflection of the ground and the overcast skies. Snow began to drift down around her in thick, lazy flakes. She looked skyward and the flakes caught on her eyelashes and face, staying whole and remaining.
A flash of green eyes aglow. A long stretching memory of time in the sand, time in a garden, cups of tea. As if guided, the blade slid between Sanria's ribs and into her heart. The pain was excruciating, blinding, then - exquisite... the tea was exquisite. There was no more cold, no more pain. Sanria was sitting in front of a fire and beside her was the one being she could never attain. Throm smiled back at her, his eyes sparkling. She took his hand as her body fell into the snow. She leaned over and gave him a kiss as the blood left her body to turn the snow crimson. She whispered the words, "I love you," before the image faded and Sanria's life parted ways with Sanria's body.
Sanria let out a roar of anguish and sat on her heels. She had lost Emalia. She had lost touch with Tarran. She had lost two children that never even made it to birth. She had lost her grasp on a realm that made everything okay. She had barely kept herself together. She had dared hope that the night spent by the fire with Throm was the beginning of what should have been and what finally would be. She had no idea that it would be the last time she'd see him alive.
Sanria slid from her heels and sat in the frigid snow absolutely broken. She wanted to tear out the thick feeling that curled in her chest and throw it away, but she couldn't grasp it. The pain was beyond her reckoning - as was everything else. She let out a gut wrenching howl and gripped her head in her hands. She screamed out his name, the word billowing steam from her mouth. There would be no Bastion in the skies to save her this time. There would be no rescue. There would never be.
Sanria opened her pack, barely able to see for the tears that continually welled up in her eyes. She found what she sought, and could barely grip the handle of the dagger, so numb were her fingers. She stared for a long time at the glinting metal, the steel shining white in reflection of the ground and the overcast skies. Snow began to drift down around her in thick, lazy flakes. She looked skyward and the flakes caught on her eyelashes and face, staying whole and remaining.
A flash of green eyes aglow. A long stretching memory of time in the sand, time in a garden, cups of tea. As if guided, the blade slid between Sanria's ribs and into her heart. The pain was excruciating, blinding, then - exquisite... the tea was exquisite. There was no more cold, no more pain. Sanria was sitting in front of a fire and beside her was the one being she could never attain. Throm smiled back at her, his eyes sparkling. She took his hand as her body fell into the snow. She leaned over and gave him a kiss as the blood left her body to turn the snow crimson. She whispered the words, "I love you," before the image faded and Sanria's life parted ways with Sanria's body.
Bathing on the Bastion
She couldn’t escape. All of Sanria’s limbs had withered while in
stasis – her legs and arms were so thin they could scarce support her
weight, and even that was dangerously low. “Please… make it stop… Make
it stop!” In her mind, flashes of Visha’s ship combined with flashes of
her own ship and flicked back in time to flashes of her own ship. None
of it made any sense – only that this certainly had to mean danger.
Throm carried her into his ship amidst her protests. She tried to chant herself into believing it would all be alright – but it was barely working. Panic sat at the edges of her mind, toying with the threads of her sanity. Amidst Throm’s questioning – his face became mixed with so many from her past. She couldn’t keep any of it straight… he was Throm, then Tarran, then Colin, then Visha, then Thasmudyan, then Havok, then Sandorin…
“What is this dimension of which you speak?” Throm and his voice cut into her mind’s dissimulation.
“No. No. I won't tell you. I won't have anyone go there. I won't. You'll die. If you don't have Colin... or Visha...” And it was true, without a guide, Throm would be as good as lost.
They both argued until Sanria could take no more. There was no further discussion as Throm led Sanria to the bathing hall and the healer on the ship. Throm excused himself as Sanria dropped her robes to the floor. She had no shame, no cares of how she might appear. In the water she watched the turbulent bubbles as the healer looked her over in absolute silence. In her mind, Sanria was here, then in the Illuminati clan Jacuzzi, then home in her tub, then here again…
Throm carried her into his ship amidst her protests. She tried to chant herself into believing it would all be alright – but it was barely working. Panic sat at the edges of her mind, toying with the threads of her sanity. Amidst Throm’s questioning – his face became mixed with so many from her past. She couldn’t keep any of it straight… he was Throm, then Tarran, then Colin, then Visha, then Thasmudyan, then Havok, then Sandorin…
“What is this dimension of which you speak?” Throm and his voice cut into her mind’s dissimulation.
“No. No. I won't tell you. I won't have anyone go there. I won't. You'll die. If you don't have Colin... or Visha...” And it was true, without a guide, Throm would be as good as lost.
They both argued until Sanria could take no more. There was no further discussion as Throm led Sanria to the bathing hall and the healer on the ship. Throm excused himself as Sanria dropped her robes to the floor. She had no shame, no cares of how she might appear. In the water she watched the turbulent bubbles as the healer looked her over in absolute silence. In her mind, Sanria was here, then in the Illuminati clan Jacuzzi, then home in her tub, then here again…
Practice Session
The deep, clear chime of the Torregiano clock tower bell rang through the relative stillness of the crisp, cool night air, marking the midnight hour for all to hear. Torregiano was a city that never really slept, and not simply due to a criminal element, either; because of the proximity of the Tripower Tower, these streets always had guards patrolling, and the makou gas lamps dispelled many of the deeper shadows, making it difficult to remain hidden.
The perfect challenge, thought Tarran to himself as he takes advantage of the guards' momentary distraction to duck into another shadowed alley. Luck, he thought to himself.. they didn't notice. Dressed all in loose-fitting black clothing, the dark-haired young man blended in nearly seamlessly with the darkness about, granting him a moment's respite. He wasn't actually trying to steal anything tonight; this was just a practice run. Even if he were caught, there was nothing they could charge him with... this time. Not that it was likely; Tarran was very good at what he did, partly because he was always practicing, and partly because he was simply lucky.
Luck had always been with Tarran. He couldn't explain why, exactly, although his stepfather had mentioned once that it was a strange side-effect of the clash between light and darkness within him. Circumstances surrounding Tarran's birth had been odd, but what exactly had happened he didn't really know. What he did know was that the good fortune had saved him more than once; while not infallible, it was reliable enough that he'd come to depend on it in certain situations. Like tonight.
With a smooth underhand motion, Tarran casually tosses a few pebbles towards the other side of the street; the momentary clatter is enough to cause the guard to look the other way. With a single smooth motion, Tarran grasps the windowsill set into the stone of the building he pressed against; planting both feet on the sill, it was a simple matter to reach up for the edge of the roof and swing himself up. Quickly, he ducks down, laying flat on the roof just as the guard turns away from the alley he'd been investigating. Perfect, he thought to himself. Even here the guards tended not to look up. If only his mother could see him now, the young thief mused.
His mother. Now there was an interesting puzzle. It had been a few days now since she had supposedly left on her fool journey north to find the man named Throm. It was unusual for her; Sanria wasn't much of a traveler. Of course, for most of Tarran's life she'd been in a state of severe depression... maybe this wasn't that unusual for her. Leaving without any supplies, maps, or a plan, though... that was oddly typical. It was a recipe for disaster; and of course, he couldn't have gone with her to make sure she stayed in line. He had business to attend to here... not to mention, local Westbridge authorities were still after him about that misunderstanding at the Huntington estate... There was nothing to be worried about, though. He'd taken steps to ensure Sanria's safety (and, of course, his own amusement). She'd thank him later for it... probably.
It was time to get moving. Smoothly, Tarran rises to his feet, running nearly silently over the roof of the building. Fortunately for him, the shops in this district were packed in tightly; it took little effort to leap from one rooftop to the next. Moving silently was the key here; guards wouldn't be watching for him, but they would be listening, and a telltale scrape of his leather-soled shoes against stone could alert them. He didn't care to be shot at tonight, particularly since his stepfather was away...
Tarran had found an unlikely ally in his estranged stepfather, Thasmudyan. The life of a professional thief was a dangerous one, and despite his luck Tarran did occasionally find himself on the losing end of a fight (though he'd never actually admit it). Because of this, he had acquired a healthy respect for anyone with healing talents... and his stepfather, who had dedicated his life (this one, at least) to those talents, in particular. He'd even come back from the dead to do it... or perhaps to aggravate Sanria, at least to hear her tell it. Whatever his reasons for coming back to life, one thing was certain; while he'd gotten older, he'd also gotten a heck of a lot more powerful. He'd be able to protect Sanria, if nothing else. And fortunately for Tarran, Thasmudyan didn't appear to hold on to any of his old loyalties with the Order of Judgement and the Tripower.
What he did hold on to, also fortunately, was a desire to protect Sanria. As such, when Tarran had showed up and explained the situation, it didn't take a lot of convincing to get the old man to go after her. Oh sure, he'd tried to affect that weird 'don't care' mannerism of his, but it wasn't fooling Tarran any. So now the both of them were off to the frozen north... leaving the young thief to his own devices. Which was how he preferred it, after all.
"Hey! You there! Where the hell do you think you're going?"
Damnit, Tarran thought to himself as he started running, ducking quickly as a crossbow bolt whizzed through the air, just missing him. One of the bastards must have looked up. Oh well, time to get out of here... practice session was over.
The perfect challenge, thought Tarran to himself as he takes advantage of the guards' momentary distraction to duck into another shadowed alley. Luck, he thought to himself.. they didn't notice. Dressed all in loose-fitting black clothing, the dark-haired young man blended in nearly seamlessly with the darkness about, granting him a moment's respite. He wasn't actually trying to steal anything tonight; this was just a practice run. Even if he were caught, there was nothing they could charge him with... this time. Not that it was likely; Tarran was very good at what he did, partly because he was always practicing, and partly because he was simply lucky.
Luck had always been with Tarran. He couldn't explain why, exactly, although his stepfather had mentioned once that it was a strange side-effect of the clash between light and darkness within him. Circumstances surrounding Tarran's birth had been odd, but what exactly had happened he didn't really know. What he did know was that the good fortune had saved him more than once; while not infallible, it was reliable enough that he'd come to depend on it in certain situations. Like tonight.
With a smooth underhand motion, Tarran casually tosses a few pebbles towards the other side of the street; the momentary clatter is enough to cause the guard to look the other way. With a single smooth motion, Tarran grasps the windowsill set into the stone of the building he pressed against; planting both feet on the sill, it was a simple matter to reach up for the edge of the roof and swing himself up. Quickly, he ducks down, laying flat on the roof just as the guard turns away from the alley he'd been investigating. Perfect, he thought to himself. Even here the guards tended not to look up. If only his mother could see him now, the young thief mused.
His mother. Now there was an interesting puzzle. It had been a few days now since she had supposedly left on her fool journey north to find the man named Throm. It was unusual for her; Sanria wasn't much of a traveler. Of course, for most of Tarran's life she'd been in a state of severe depression... maybe this wasn't that unusual for her. Leaving without any supplies, maps, or a plan, though... that was oddly typical. It was a recipe for disaster; and of course, he couldn't have gone with her to make sure she stayed in line. He had business to attend to here... not to mention, local Westbridge authorities were still after him about that misunderstanding at the Huntington estate... There was nothing to be worried about, though. He'd taken steps to ensure Sanria's safety (and, of course, his own amusement). She'd thank him later for it... probably.
It was time to get moving. Smoothly, Tarran rises to his feet, running nearly silently over the roof of the building. Fortunately for him, the shops in this district were packed in tightly; it took little effort to leap from one rooftop to the next. Moving silently was the key here; guards wouldn't be watching for him, but they would be listening, and a telltale scrape of his leather-soled shoes against stone could alert them. He didn't care to be shot at tonight, particularly since his stepfather was away...
Tarran had found an unlikely ally in his estranged stepfather, Thasmudyan. The life of a professional thief was a dangerous one, and despite his luck Tarran did occasionally find himself on the losing end of a fight (though he'd never actually admit it). Because of this, he had acquired a healthy respect for anyone with healing talents... and his stepfather, who had dedicated his life (this one, at least) to those talents, in particular. He'd even come back from the dead to do it... or perhaps to aggravate Sanria, at least to hear her tell it. Whatever his reasons for coming back to life, one thing was certain; while he'd gotten older, he'd also gotten a heck of a lot more powerful. He'd be able to protect Sanria, if nothing else. And fortunately for Tarran, Thasmudyan didn't appear to hold on to any of his old loyalties with the Order of Judgement and the Tripower.
What he did hold on to, also fortunately, was a desire to protect Sanria. As such, when Tarran had showed up and explained the situation, it didn't take a lot of convincing to get the old man to go after her. Oh sure, he'd tried to affect that weird 'don't care' mannerism of his, but it wasn't fooling Tarran any. So now the both of them were off to the frozen north... leaving the young thief to his own devices. Which was how he preferred it, after all.
"Hey! You there! Where the hell do you think you're going?"
Damnit, Tarran thought to himself as he started running, ducking quickly as a crossbow bolt whizzed through the air, just missing him. One of the bastards must have looked up. Oh well, time to get out of here... practice session was over.
Now Boarding
Sanria didn't know what she wanted to feel, and the truth was that she didn't have the ability to choose regardless. The man across the table from her had made her leave her first husband, had made her insane for a good portion of her life, and had broken her heart to the point she didn't know if it would have ever been repaired. She had questions, quips, jabs, stabs, and words ready to murder - but for some reason, the worst of them couldn't find their way out.
Tarran had gone to Thasmudyan and told him of Sanria's trip and apparently, made it painfully obvious that she wasn't quite prepared. It burned Sanria, knowing that her son would have gone to Thasmudyan right as she was seeking Throm. It irritated her also that the man who she hadn't seen since he walked out would come to offer his help in finding her lover.
"No. Absolutely not. You shouldn't be concerned. I don't know why you would be now, anyway. I don't need your help, Thasmudyan."
"I understand you are undertaking this journey with very little preparation."
"It's none of your concern. You gave up that right when you walked out my door."
"Your safety is my concern if I wish it to be so. I would think that would be my decision to make, no?"
"If you want, I can't stop you. But who I take with me is my affair, and you'll not find yourself aboard my ship. Don't think for a minute I'm bringing you. You can walk or whatever it is you do... but you're not setting foot on my ship.”
Sanria sat, stinging at him with her words and he attempting to explain his side of what happened - admitting that along with the need that drove him to seek information, he had not done "right" by her.
The two parted, and Sanria headed back to her ship, the facade of ferocity crumbling. She hung her head and openly sobbed her way back to the Tarmack. Standing, waiting for the elevator to descend, the most familiar sense of calm reached out to her. She turned fully, now, to look at Thasmudyan. Now, she cared not if he saw her tears. "Yes?" she asked in a sob.
"Forgive me... but... I can't help but still be concerned. If something happens to you..." She knew, regardless of what she said, she had no other argument she could give. "Why make this harder?"
"...You have the right to refuse my help... Still, I... and Tarran, and Emalia... would rest more easily at least knowing you were well prepared for this."
"You say you know why I'm leaving... do you know that I'm going after him in part to find out if he's leaving me too?"
Thasmudyan bowed his head as he responded, "It's not really my business... but, no, I didn't know that."
"Well now you do... I have the best luck... three..."
Sanria's thoughts rolled over her relationships and every glaring mistake she felt she made in them. The elevator ride ended and Sanria lead the walk to the gangplank. The worker was no longer there, a fact that gave her some relief since she hadn't bothered to make a stop at the bank. The crew were all either inside the ship, or about the city, leaving the door locked. She resolved in that moment to allow him to help, and unlocking the hatch, she invited him aboard.
They headed to the viewing bubble and sat in the seats there. Sanria's tears were gone, and she sat looking out of the glass, with the knowledge that beside her sat a man she had wondered about for years. It was then, she realized, he was no longer her husband. He was no longer her lover. He was a man who wanted to help for the sake of himself, their child, and her son. The truth was that though she felt for him, their time had passed. A healer, she thought, might be of use in case anything happened.
"You can sleep in the crew’s quarters on the first floor. I'm sure we can arrange for a comfortable bed of your size. The galley is right across the hall, so if you're hungry, you can find food in there also. There is a study aboard, as well, which you are free to use if you desire. We'll be leaving as soon as Remus calls me."
Sanria took a long moment, looking over her past. It would be difficult, but her focus could now be strengthened. Thasmudyan would help her find Throm. From there, she would find out where her life was really headed.
Tarran had gone to Thasmudyan and told him of Sanria's trip and apparently, made it painfully obvious that she wasn't quite prepared. It burned Sanria, knowing that her son would have gone to Thasmudyan right as she was seeking Throm. It irritated her also that the man who she hadn't seen since he walked out would come to offer his help in finding her lover.
"No. Absolutely not. You shouldn't be concerned. I don't know why you would be now, anyway. I don't need your help, Thasmudyan."
"I understand you are undertaking this journey with very little preparation."
"It's none of your concern. You gave up that right when you walked out my door."
"Your safety is my concern if I wish it to be so. I would think that would be my decision to make, no?"
"If you want, I can't stop you. But who I take with me is my affair, and you'll not find yourself aboard my ship. Don't think for a minute I'm bringing you. You can walk or whatever it is you do... but you're not setting foot on my ship.”
Sanria sat, stinging at him with her words and he attempting to explain his side of what happened - admitting that along with the need that drove him to seek information, he had not done "right" by her.
The two parted, and Sanria headed back to her ship, the facade of ferocity crumbling. She hung her head and openly sobbed her way back to the Tarmack. Standing, waiting for the elevator to descend, the most familiar sense of calm reached out to her. She turned fully, now, to look at Thasmudyan. Now, she cared not if he saw her tears. "Yes?" she asked in a sob.
"Forgive me... but... I can't help but still be concerned. If something happens to you..." She knew, regardless of what she said, she had no other argument she could give. "Why make this harder?"
"...You have the right to refuse my help... Still, I... and Tarran, and Emalia... would rest more easily at least knowing you were well prepared for this."
"You say you know why I'm leaving... do you know that I'm going after him in part to find out if he's leaving me too?"
Thasmudyan bowed his head as he responded, "It's not really my business... but, no, I didn't know that."
"Well now you do... I have the best luck... three..."
Sanria's thoughts rolled over her relationships and every glaring mistake she felt she made in them. The elevator ride ended and Sanria lead the walk to the gangplank. The worker was no longer there, a fact that gave her some relief since she hadn't bothered to make a stop at the bank. The crew were all either inside the ship, or about the city, leaving the door locked. She resolved in that moment to allow him to help, and unlocking the hatch, she invited him aboard.
They headed to the viewing bubble and sat in the seats there. Sanria's tears were gone, and she sat looking out of the glass, with the knowledge that beside her sat a man she had wondered about for years. It was then, she realized, he was no longer her husband. He was no longer her lover. He was a man who wanted to help for the sake of himself, their child, and her son. The truth was that though she felt for him, their time had passed. A healer, she thought, might be of use in case anything happened.
"You can sleep in the crew’s quarters on the first floor. I'm sure we can arrange for a comfortable bed of your size. The galley is right across the hall, so if you're hungry, you can find food in there also. There is a study aboard, as well, which you are free to use if you desire. We'll be leaving as soon as Remus calls me."
Sanria took a long moment, looking over her past. It would be difficult, but her focus could now be strengthened. Thasmudyan would help her find Throm. From there, she would find out where her life was really headed.
Sub-ether Jump
The day broke and Sanria found herself making preparations. It didn't need to be seen whether Remus had left. It appeared from the very way he spoke he was a man of his word. So, she had packed several robes (none that would aid against the cold, for, like her daughter, preparation was not the strongest of her suits), and sat at her table drawing up maps and hits of food. She was so engrossed in her worthless activity that she failed to hear Tarran before the boy spoke - and that nearly sent her leaping from her skin.
Sanria was accustomed to her son simply coming and going as he pleased. She thought of him more and more like a tom cat - wandering at will, staying where the staying was good, and always returning home with the intention of filling up the rest of his stomach when the canary wasn't enough. This, however, was different. Tarran still spoke with his step-father on occassion, and it didn't sit well with Sanria to have him know about Throm, yet. Still, it didn't take much for Tarran's questions to bring out the truth about her trip - nor to prove to her son as she left the house forgetting all her notes - that she was very ill prepared.
The night she spoke with Remus she had sent out a call to her gnome crew. As she stepped onto the ship, they were already present - calibrating the engines, fueling, and making ready for the short, sub-ether jump to Torregiano. She stepped aboard, greeting the first mate with a clap on his tiny shoulder. "Are we all set to go, Skive?"
"Indeed. I'll call all to positions and you can give the orders."
Skive pulled out a step-ladder as Sanria took her seat in the Captain's chair. He pulled down an instrument that looked like a cone attached to a tube. "All hands to stations - prepare for sub-ether jump."
"Thank you, Skive," Sanria said as she checked over the console. All gauges were within appropriate limits and she flipped the switches on her chair to begin warming up the engines. "Calibrations."
"Calibrations?" Skive called into the cone.
"Point zero seven one. Within limits. Ready," returned the tinny voice.
"Alright, places for teleport to Torregiano."
"Places!"
Skive had only enough time to seat himself before Sanria placed the coordinates and sent the ship into a burst of white light. In a matter of seconds, the ship sat at the Torregiano beacon. Sanria piloted the ship down to the tarmack and worried about the heavy traffic and the "NO PARKING" signs. She drove the ship to the south-west tower. Several of the gnome crew lept out to secure the ship as did Sanria, though more for breakfast than anything.
Once she had eaten, she returned to the ship to wait for Remus. She had heard nothing from him yet, but to contact him through the crystal might have proved bad for him. Attempting to get hidden armor might be a sight more difficult with a noisy crystal requesting your location.
So the day passed and Sanria took her evening meal with the crew in the galley. She had a deep respect for the gnomes - though they all looked like children playing dress-up - they were brilliant and fearless. Skive saluted briefly as she left the galley and went to her quarters. Perhaps tomorrow she would again go into the city and buy supplies. Thus the night passed into the dawn of the next day.
"Captain."
Sanria rose from her bed, her body sluggish, her eyes full of sleep. "Yes? Enter."
Tedge, one of the hands, walked into the room. His voice was small and high-pitched, but he still managed an air of serious urgency. "First Mate Skive, he's having it out with the dock workers. We weren't s'posed to be overnight."
"Thank you, I'm on my way."
It was a sight, a being barely three feet tall toe-to-toe with a man nearly seven. The worker was very skinny, with a blaze of red hair and a moustache to match. He spoke rapidly and with the irritated manner of one who has seen the rules broken before.
"I don't care what you meant to do. This is temporary parking only and you will have to pay up."
"Maybe if you had a sign bigger than me saying that, we'd pay."
"Look bud, you're lucky I don't punt you offa here."
"Punt me? You giant ogre. You smell like piss from down here. I don't care how much you threaten-"
"Skive, I heard we have a problem."
"Aye, Captain."
"Captain?" the dock hand chimed incredulously. "You pilot of this vessel?"
"Captain, yes," Sanria corrected.
"Whatever. Look. There's the sign. That's a 200 platinum offence. Plus interest with your lap dog yappin' at me. You don't fork over 250, you're getting towed."
"You swine..." Skive growled.
"It's alright. We broke the rules." Sanria turned her attention to the tall man.
"What say you 225? That way, I don't have to mention to anyone about corruption up here."
"230."
"Fair enough." Sanria pulled out a slip of paper, writing the figure onto it. "You can lock the ship to the dock until I return. I don't carry that much on me."
"I'll just keep my eyes open," the man muttered, taking the slip of paper.
"Skive, I'm off to breakfast."
"Aye."
"Watch the ship."
Sanria walked the gangplank, turning her back on the nodding gnome who appeared unfinished with the giant redhead. It wasn't far to the Sunflower Cafe, and Sanria was excited to again enjoy their breakfast special.
Her order arrived and eagerly she ate. She had almost finished when a face appeared that nearly made her drop her fork. She couldn't get the waiter's attention quick enough, nor could she turn away fast enough. Her stomach was knotted immediately, and it froze as soon as she heard the words, "Hello, Sanria."
Steeling herself, she turned back around and looked up into Thasmudyan's face. Of all the times he could have chosen to appear - it had to be when she was - again - in doubt. With a slight nod, she answered simply: "Hello."
Sanria was accustomed to her son simply coming and going as he pleased. She thought of him more and more like a tom cat - wandering at will, staying where the staying was good, and always returning home with the intention of filling up the rest of his stomach when the canary wasn't enough. This, however, was different. Tarran still spoke with his step-father on occassion, and it didn't sit well with Sanria to have him know about Throm, yet. Still, it didn't take much for Tarran's questions to bring out the truth about her trip - nor to prove to her son as she left the house forgetting all her notes - that she was very ill prepared.
The night she spoke with Remus she had sent out a call to her gnome crew. As she stepped onto the ship, they were already present - calibrating the engines, fueling, and making ready for the short, sub-ether jump to Torregiano. She stepped aboard, greeting the first mate with a clap on his tiny shoulder. "Are we all set to go, Skive?"
"Indeed. I'll call all to positions and you can give the orders."
Skive pulled out a step-ladder as Sanria took her seat in the Captain's chair. He pulled down an instrument that looked like a cone attached to a tube. "All hands to stations - prepare for sub-ether jump."
"Thank you, Skive," Sanria said as she checked over the console. All gauges were within appropriate limits and she flipped the switches on her chair to begin warming up the engines. "Calibrations."
"Calibrations?" Skive called into the cone.
"Point zero seven one. Within limits. Ready," returned the tinny voice.
"Alright, places for teleport to Torregiano."
"Places!"
Skive had only enough time to seat himself before Sanria placed the coordinates and sent the ship into a burst of white light. In a matter of seconds, the ship sat at the Torregiano beacon. Sanria piloted the ship down to the tarmack and worried about the heavy traffic and the "NO PARKING" signs. She drove the ship to the south-west tower. Several of the gnome crew lept out to secure the ship as did Sanria, though more for breakfast than anything.
Once she had eaten, she returned to the ship to wait for Remus. She had heard nothing from him yet, but to contact him through the crystal might have proved bad for him. Attempting to get hidden armor might be a sight more difficult with a noisy crystal requesting your location.
So the day passed and Sanria took her evening meal with the crew in the galley. She had a deep respect for the gnomes - though they all looked like children playing dress-up - they were brilliant and fearless. Skive saluted briefly as she left the galley and went to her quarters. Perhaps tomorrow she would again go into the city and buy supplies. Thus the night passed into the dawn of the next day.
"Captain."
Sanria rose from her bed, her body sluggish, her eyes full of sleep. "Yes? Enter."
Tedge, one of the hands, walked into the room. His voice was small and high-pitched, but he still managed an air of serious urgency. "First Mate Skive, he's having it out with the dock workers. We weren't s'posed to be overnight."
"Thank you, I'm on my way."
It was a sight, a being barely three feet tall toe-to-toe with a man nearly seven. The worker was very skinny, with a blaze of red hair and a moustache to match. He spoke rapidly and with the irritated manner of one who has seen the rules broken before.
"I don't care what you meant to do. This is temporary parking only and you will have to pay up."
"Maybe if you had a sign bigger than me saying that, we'd pay."
"Look bud, you're lucky I don't punt you offa here."
"Punt me? You giant ogre. You smell like piss from down here. I don't care how much you threaten-"
"Skive, I heard we have a problem."
"Aye, Captain."
"Captain?" the dock hand chimed incredulously. "You pilot of this vessel?"
"Captain, yes," Sanria corrected.
"Whatever. Look. There's the sign. That's a 200 platinum offence. Plus interest with your lap dog yappin' at me. You don't fork over 250, you're getting towed."
"You swine..." Skive growled.
"It's alright. We broke the rules." Sanria turned her attention to the tall man.
"What say you 225? That way, I don't have to mention to anyone about corruption up here."
"230."
"Fair enough." Sanria pulled out a slip of paper, writing the figure onto it. "You can lock the ship to the dock until I return. I don't carry that much on me."
"I'll just keep my eyes open," the man muttered, taking the slip of paper.
"Skive, I'm off to breakfast."
"Aye."
"Watch the ship."
Sanria walked the gangplank, turning her back on the nodding gnome who appeared unfinished with the giant redhead. It wasn't far to the Sunflower Cafe, and Sanria was excited to again enjoy their breakfast special.
Her order arrived and eagerly she ate. She had almost finished when a face appeared that nearly made her drop her fork. She couldn't get the waiter's attention quick enough, nor could she turn away fast enough. Her stomach was knotted immediately, and it froze as soon as she heard the words, "Hello, Sanria."
Steeling herself, she turned back around and looked up into Thasmudyan's face. Of all the times he could have chosen to appear - it had to be when she was - again - in doubt. With a slight nod, she answered simply: "Hello."
Time Spent
Sanria sat in her kitchen, both her hands upon a single piece of parchment. She stared at the rolling script, touching it every now and again as though the very act would bring forth the author. It wasn't a goodbye note she held in her hand, it held more of a promising outlook. Throm would join her for tea.
Sanria carefully laid the missive on the table and slid her hands around the cup of slowly cooling tea before her. A small ball of doubt sat in the center of her stomach, preventing her from even taking a sip. Thasmudyan told her to move ahead, to go on with life. She was trying, but it was hard to let go of one aspect of that life, and deal with the others. What would Tarran think? What would Emalia think?
What, at any rate, was happening with Emalia? Sanria had no clue where her daughter was, how she was, or even if she still lived. In a way, she was afraid to find out. She still recalled a time when Nanashi talked to her of bringing down the Rok, as well as Thasmudyan, rushing to find her and inform her of Sephiroth speaking to the masses. How Emalia could fall in line with thoughts like those that Nanashi had spoken to her years past, puzzled her. But to try to speak to her daughter about it could only end in the same type of disaster as the last time she tried.
Sanria shook her head and again and let go of the cup, taking hold of Throm's note in both her hands. Her eyes were drawn to a single passage and like a girl, she read it again and again to drown out all her other thoughts save one: "Truth be told I have enjoyed our meetings, no I have looked forward to them in a sense that I have failed to express before in our conversations. I must say that I admire your candor, for it is one that I did not possess when I felt the same way towards you."
Sanria carefully laid the missive on the table and slid her hands around the cup of slowly cooling tea before her. A small ball of doubt sat in the center of her stomach, preventing her from even taking a sip. Thasmudyan told her to move ahead, to go on with life. She was trying, but it was hard to let go of one aspect of that life, and deal with the others. What would Tarran think? What would Emalia think?
What, at any rate, was happening with Emalia? Sanria had no clue where her daughter was, how she was, or even if she still lived. In a way, she was afraid to find out. She still recalled a time when Nanashi talked to her of bringing down the Rok, as well as Thasmudyan, rushing to find her and inform her of Sephiroth speaking to the masses. How Emalia could fall in line with thoughts like those that Nanashi had spoken to her years past, puzzled her. But to try to speak to her daughter about it could only end in the same type of disaster as the last time she tried.
Sanria shook her head and again and let go of the cup, taking hold of Throm's note in both her hands. Her eyes were drawn to a single passage and like a girl, she read it again and again to drown out all her other thoughts save one: "Truth be told I have enjoyed our meetings, no I have looked forward to them in a sense that I have failed to express before in our conversations. I must say that I admire your candor, for it is one that I did not possess when I felt the same way towards you."
Pie and a Side of Tears
Finished with the tears, Emalia made her way down the mountain toward Westbridge. Her face was hardly recognizable it had turned so red and puffy from her tears. She hoped somehow, that if she went into a tavern, she might find Tarran. Surely her brother could help her - even if she really knew in the back of her mind she wouldn't find him.
The Blue Moon was a rowdy place, enough that no one really noticed her with her dirty clothes and bowed head. She made her way to the table as far away from everyone as possible and sat down, plunking her head onto the table and wrapping her arm around her face. A waitress came by and deposited a glass of water without a word, and left Emalia alone.
Every so often, she would let out a sob, for she felt truly lost now. She sat there mired in her own sorrows until a familiar voice hissed, "You look troubled, Child." It was Grobnak, and the ability for Emalia to release all of her thoughts to someone.
It was the perfect time to ask him about murdering, to which he admitted to doing, minus the joy that was believed to be had when he did. He admitted to being part of the Talosians... there were no lies.
Emalia hung her head at the admissions, and pressed on to her heart. She told Grobnak that she was losing someone very dear to her. "All I ever wanted was his approval." "[Ao] will use those he has deceived against you, and the greater your love for them, the greater the weapon." “How can I deal with this pain?" “Take comfort in your new family.”
Emalia sat stock still, trying not to let the tears that threatened her to fall. "I'm going to lose him... I'm going to lose them all."
"If he truly loves you, no matter the hurt, then perhaps he should trust you and respect you enough to accept your Faith, even if he does not share it. If not, you must remember that you are your own person now. Blessed by The Apprentice with Absolution. He must learn to accept that, or it will not be you that loses him, but perhaps, he that loses you."
Grobnak leaned over, kissing Emalia on the forehead lightly. "If I'd had a daughter, Child, I think she may have turned out akin to how you are today." Emalia thought of how nice it would be to have met one similar to herself, and how nice it was to be looked upon as though she had a father. It was with this thought that she lead Grobnak to the bakery, and amidst the stares of the patrons, shared with him a pie.
The Blue Moon was a rowdy place, enough that no one really noticed her with her dirty clothes and bowed head. She made her way to the table as far away from everyone as possible and sat down, plunking her head onto the table and wrapping her arm around her face. A waitress came by and deposited a glass of water without a word, and left Emalia alone.
Every so often, she would let out a sob, for she felt truly lost now. She sat there mired in her own sorrows until a familiar voice hissed, "You look troubled, Child." It was Grobnak, and the ability for Emalia to release all of her thoughts to someone.
It was the perfect time to ask him about murdering, to which he admitted to doing, minus the joy that was believed to be had when he did. He admitted to being part of the Talosians... there were no lies.
Emalia hung her head at the admissions, and pressed on to her heart. She told Grobnak that she was losing someone very dear to her. "All I ever wanted was his approval." "[Ao] will use those he has deceived against you, and the greater your love for them, the greater the weapon." “How can I deal with this pain?" “Take comfort in your new family.”
Emalia sat stock still, trying not to let the tears that threatened her to fall. "I'm going to lose him... I'm going to lose them all."
"If he truly loves you, no matter the hurt, then perhaps he should trust you and respect you enough to accept your Faith, even if he does not share it. If not, you must remember that you are your own person now. Blessed by The Apprentice with Absolution. He must learn to accept that, or it will not be you that loses him, but perhaps, he that loses you."
Grobnak leaned over, kissing Emalia on the forehead lightly. "If I'd had a daughter, Child, I think she may have turned out akin to how you are today." Emalia thought of how nice it would be to have met one similar to herself, and how nice it was to be looked upon as though she had a father. It was with this thought that she lead Grobnak to the bakery, and amidst the stares of the patrons, shared with him a pie.
A Fistful of Memories
17 years.
Truly... 17 years.
Sanria stared at the wood grain of the kitchen table, wondering where time had gone. It had effectively swallowed her up, chewed her into pulp with exquisite masticating movements, spat her onto the ground, and left her with children and a brother... but no husband.
Tarran had grown into a strapping, handsome, and clever young man. She had watched him from boyhood growing into a man that would have made Havok proud. He could swindle a deal (evidenced by the many times he was able to get whatever he wanted from Emalia), and wield a sword. Sanria could see much of Havok in him, and she hung her head.
Sighing she pushed up from the table. It was finally a moment of clarity for her. One of so few that she had anymore. 'Too bad Sandorin isn't here," she thought. She thought of Emalia, who Sanria knew was nearby in the observatory. Sweet Emalia who never knew her father only for what she was, his contribution to her life, and stories that Sanria spilled over and over again. Undoubtedly, Emalia would be sitting in the marble throne, humming in tune with the crystals, and looking out over the land. Truthfully, Sandorin had raised her more than Sanria. Poor child of an unfit mother.
17 years.
“Oh Thasmudyan. My life and soul for yours... my life and soul for yours.” Sanria trailed off and headed to the library. The ancient floor was now showing the beginnings of a groove - a circular track worn by Sanria's feet. She could already feel the other world calling her - the chaos that filled her mind and caused her to go 'crazy'. As she began to step into the room, she heard the voice that sounded like the tinkling of tiny bells.
"Mother?" Emalia tapped her shoulder lightly, and when Sanria turned to her, she could see the look of joy on her daughter's face.
"It's you now."
"Yes my little love. It is me, for now."
"I've missed talking to you, you know."
"Sweet dear, I've missed so much. Each time I come out of my stupor, you've turned into more of a woman."
"Oh. Mother. I... well, Tarran said to give his love if you were yourself."
"My little boy... oh tell me if he's well..."
"He is. He misses you, too."
Sanria paused for a moment, staring down at the ground. She had missed so much of her son's life, and truly, she had harbored deep pain for causing him the loss of two "Oh Emalia... if only you knew what it was like. If only you could have seen your father, too. A beautiful man, kind, gentle, and full of such a light... and the energy..."
"Oh mother... please," Emalia pleaded, her hands gripped Sanria's arm a little tighter as her eyes filled up with tears. "Please don't go again..." her voice trailed off into a whisper. "He had so much energy. They never found his head. They never found it." Sanria pulled from her daughter, her eyes glazed over once more. She entered the library, wringing her hands as she walked in her circle, talking to herself again. "If I wouldn't have walked that way, he would have never gone for me. They would never have found him. He would be here with me, protecting me, loving me, loving me. But I don't deserve that. No no no. I don't..."
Emalia hung her head and a single tear slid down her cheek. She then shook her head and sighed, walking to the kitchen to make tea and wait for her uncle to come home.
Truly... 17 years.
Sanria stared at the wood grain of the kitchen table, wondering where time had gone. It had effectively swallowed her up, chewed her into pulp with exquisite masticating movements, spat her onto the ground, and left her with children and a brother... but no husband.
Tarran had grown into a strapping, handsome, and clever young man. She had watched him from boyhood growing into a man that would have made Havok proud. He could swindle a deal (evidenced by the many times he was able to get whatever he wanted from Emalia), and wield a sword. Sanria could see much of Havok in him, and she hung her head.
Sighing she pushed up from the table. It was finally a moment of clarity for her. One of so few that she had anymore. 'Too bad Sandorin isn't here," she thought. She thought of Emalia, who Sanria knew was nearby in the observatory. Sweet Emalia who never knew her father only for what she was, his contribution to her life, and stories that Sanria spilled over and over again. Undoubtedly, Emalia would be sitting in the marble throne, humming in tune with the crystals, and looking out over the land. Truthfully, Sandorin had raised her more than Sanria. Poor child of an unfit mother.
17 years.
“Oh Thasmudyan. My life and soul for yours... my life and soul for yours.” Sanria trailed off and headed to the library. The ancient floor was now showing the beginnings of a groove - a circular track worn by Sanria's feet. She could already feel the other world calling her - the chaos that filled her mind and caused her to go 'crazy'. As she began to step into the room, she heard the voice that sounded like the tinkling of tiny bells.
"Mother?" Emalia tapped her shoulder lightly, and when Sanria turned to her, she could see the look of joy on her daughter's face.
"It's you now."
"Yes my little love. It is me, for now."
"I've missed talking to you, you know."
"Sweet dear, I've missed so much. Each time I come out of my stupor, you've turned into more of a woman."
"Oh. Mother. I... well, Tarran said to give his love if you were yourself."
"My little boy... oh tell me if he's well..."
"He is. He misses you, too."
Sanria paused for a moment, staring down at the ground. She had missed so much of her son's life, and truly, she had harbored deep pain for causing him the loss of two "Oh Emalia... if only you knew what it was like. If only you could have seen your father, too. A beautiful man, kind, gentle, and full of such a light... and the energy..."
"Oh mother... please," Emalia pleaded, her hands gripped Sanria's arm a little tighter as her eyes filled up with tears. "Please don't go again..." her voice trailed off into a whisper. "He had so much energy. They never found his head. They never found it." Sanria pulled from her daughter, her eyes glazed over once more. She entered the library, wringing her hands as she walked in her circle, talking to herself again. "If I wouldn't have walked that way, he would have never gone for me. They would never have found him. He would be here with me, protecting me, loving me, loving me. But I don't deserve that. No no no. I don't..."
Emalia hung her head and a single tear slid down her cheek. She then shook her head and sighed, walking to the kitchen to make tea and wait for her uncle to come home.
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