Topic: The Fates of Fortune
Subject: Will the truth stand up to the light of day?
Out of the darkness a gentle voice whispered to her. “Quel amrun, elen en cormamin… Oio naa elealla alasee.”
With it the moon rises again above her and bathes her in its tender light.
Under his touch she moves slightly toward him but continues to sleep. Gentle pink light begins to filter through the cracks that last night had let in the tears of heaven. It falls over her face and she stirs gently.
Eyes open slowly and catch the familiar silhouette of Nyx outlined in morning pastels. Before she pulls out of this half sleep state she whispers softly back to him. “Ithilamin, lle entula.”
“As I told you I would, melamin,” Nyx whispered in reply, his fingers drifting across her cheek and into the spill of her hair.
A soft smile played on his lips when he thought to lean down and kiss her rose-petal lips… He thought better of it, though, as he knew she was still in that nether place between sleep and wakefulness… If she suddenly found herself thrust into consciousness only to find his lips on hers, who knew what the consequences might be… he contented himself with the feel of her tresses in his hands, the sight of her, soft and silent there in the blankets, and the nearness that this moment allowed…“I am never far away.”
“hmmm…” she muttered softly. Across the dreamscape that still called to her the moon held its zenith but it wavered as if she looked at it not in the sky but reflected in a pool of dark water. Eyes close to the manifestation of the moon and she curls away from it and closer to the tree.
“Amin ila edhel… amin ila mith’ganni… amin ila… Lyssa.” The whisper, soft and sad is offered to him but gets tangled upon the roots of her tree.
Those words and that sadness in her still sleepy voice plucked a chord in his heart that had not been played in he couldn’t recall how long. His eyes held her even as the chestnut tendrils of her hair were pulled from his fingers when she rolled towards the tree. He sighed softly, realizing that her own sadness was an echo of his own, and his gaze let her go for the moment. Those yellow eyes dipped to the floor between his feet for an instant, his elbows coming to rest on his knees and his hands coming up to run through his mane as he chewed thoughtfully at his lip.
All of those things are true, a voice in his head murmured as Nyx’s eyes panned the tiny apartment, “She’s not an elf. The part of her that is, is not mith’ganni. And she’s not Lyssa.
The moon-hued eyes came to rest on the loom, then, and on the moon and the rose that graced it. … see what the fates have spun for her…
“N’malia,” he whispered, at first, the smile that had begun to wane on his lips, waxing fuller again as he turned and let his eyes fall on her again. “N’malia,” he said again, not whispering this time, but still softly, “None of that matters to me, Cayrimsa.” His hand reached out for her again and came to rest on the delicate curve where neck met shoulder; “All that matters to me, now, is that you know…”
“Know what exactly?” Her voice rose through the roots, more awake than it had been. The witch turned, laying upon her back, his hand finding itself on her shoulder as she moved. Twin amber stars rose to meet the moons that looked upon her.
“Know that you desire me? Know that you have replayed again and again in your mind what it would be like to lay with me? Is that it? That doesn’t make you special Nyx. Many have thought it, several have taken it, but never an elf. I’ve never lowered myself to such.
What makes you special is that I owe you a debt…” she takes a deep breath and looks at him as she relaxes her shoulders down onto the pallet. “You have but to ask Nyx and you may have what you desire.”
Despite the offer and the relaxation of her body her jaw sets slightly and her eyes waiver as she tries to maintain her gaze in his. It threatens to pull away and wander to the loom or to shut the lids completely against the words she has just spit out at him; it threatens to be washed away in a flood of tears.
You see, another inner voice snickered, your dreamweaver lies to you, just as the humans lie to you, and just as this one lies to you, Nyx. Go on, admit to her that, yes, you want her; yes, you’ve dreamed of lying with her. Do it… ask her to repay her debt and then let her ‘lower herself’ so that she may do so.
She uses you just as the rest, do, mith’ganni… I’ve told you this before…
…and withdrew his hand from Cayrimsa’s shoulder. “No,” he said, rising to his feet and abandoning his perch on the edge of her pallet before finally allowing his eyes to tear away from her, “no…”
His gaze lifted to the tree that loomed above her as his hands shoved through his mane again… fell back to her for the flickering of a second as his hands came out of his hair and pressed together, almost as if he were praying… and then, as he turned and padded a few steps away from the bed, came to rest, once more, on the tapestry that still clung to the loom.
“I could lie to you, Cay,” he murmured after a moment, “and tell you that I do not desire you, that I have not entertained thoughts of sharing your bed…” One hand fell away from his face, then, but the other lingered for a moment and moved to cover his mouth as another sigh tried to escape his lips; “…but you would know they were lies, yes? So what would be the point?
And, elen en cormamin,” he added, “I would no more take that from you as repayment of some debt you think you owe any more than I would take it from you by force…”
The mith’ganni stalked a few steps further away, still not having turned to face her again, and stopped when he found himself standing in front of the loom… studying the moon where it cradled the bleeding rose in the vastness of a night sky….
Without one another, the both of you are alone, Steppe Son, both of you without people or place… both of you with nothing to care for save for that dark anger and hatred that you each profess gives you purpose…
…Alabaster fingers tracked away from a tight-set mouth and reached out to trace over the weaving before him. There was a truth in the weaving just as magical as the truth in Taellyn’s reading had been and Nyx felt it travel through him. “I am alone without you, Cayrimsa,” he whispered, his fingers gliding along the petals of the rose where it met the yellow glow of the moon, “and whether I ever lay with you or not is no longer of any consequence…” His hand fell away from the tapestry, then, and, after another moment, he turned, slowly, and let his eyes find her again.
“…All that matters to me, now, is that you know… that I love you…”
The young peredhil that had watched as the carriage with the round human woman drove off and plastered her face with dust, the woman who had stood in the moonlight listening to the caresses of Prien while black blood dripped down her chin, the girl who had paid a handful of silver coins to have her ears hewed, the babe left in the frosted high grass screaming when it realized the woman who had birthed it was no longer there… they all had expected his lips to press down hard against hers, they had expected hands upon her body, exploring and groping along her possessively.
She had not expected him to pull back, to refuse her offer. A dark eel of anger writhed inside her as he did. It threatened to lash out at him. ‘No’ he had said.
What gives you the right to deny me? A filthy dung smelling horse pacher! That is all you are… I offer the greatest gift you will ever be offered and you deny it?!
For a moment his eyes fell on hers as he stood, the fires burning in them quickly sent his gaze elsewhere. To the loom. Her breath held but the voice screaming in her head went on.
Do not read into that star gazer. A foolish dream…
“I could lie to you, Cay,” he murmured after a moment, “and tell you that I do not desire you, that I have not entertained thoughts of sharing your bed… but you would know they were lies, yes? So what would be the point?”
That’s it hwandi. Admit it… you are like the others. Do not lie to me about what you are, or what you feel. I’m nothing more than a beautiful body… one more in a long line of them you’ve no doubt had. You will probably revel in the thought that I have lowered myself so in letting you have it. You’ll enjoy the thought of being the only elf I’ve allowed to penetrate me…
The eel twisted in her stomach, vomiting its bile until she felt it rise into her throat and twist her features.
“And, elen en cormamin,”
…don’t… don’t say that… even the voice in her head quieted as he continued to speak in the soft tones and the sweet elven accent she had grown so familiar with.
“I would no more take that from you as repayment of some debt you think you owe any more than I would take it from you by force…”
Things quieted down as she watched him examine the loom. Furiously the eel gnashed its teeth when his fingers fell upon the fine weaving. Not his! a stern voice reminded her. While another softly pleaded with Nyx, Please… leave it be… I cannot… do this… I don’t… I don’t…
Both voices cut off when he began to speak again.
“I am alone without you, Cayrimsa, and whether I ever lay with you or not is no longer of any consequence…” His hand fell away from the tapestry, then, and, after another moment, he turned, slowly, and let his eyes find her again.
“…All that matters to me, now, is that you know… that I love you…”
I don’t deserve it… the pleading voice finally finished.
Through threatening tears she searched him. No one had ever dared to say those words to her. Even the human woman had not said it to her. Those that had desired her had not even bothered to offer it as a lie to convince her to give them what they wanted. This was not a lie.
man not elf?
Who stood before her trembled slightly with his admission, his eyes stared deeply into her truly seeing her for more than a beautiful body, for more than her blood for something she couldn’t explain, the color rose in his cheeks and his fingers tensed again.
Hours seemed to pass as she looked back at him and stripped him bare with her thoughts. She laid aside the yellow eyes and the pointed ears, no longer elf, no longer mith’ganni. The grinning belt buckle fell from his waist and the black clothing pulled from his body, ridding him of his obligations to the god that had once tried to seduce her. Layer by layer she removed the things that separated them until finally what stood before her was indeed just a man. A man who like herself had nothing but anger to fuel his life. A man who had gone out on a limb had offered himself to her. Not like she had offered herself to him only moments ago. She had offered her body, he offered his soul, his heart.
A tear slid down her cheek, and finally she took a breath. Barely she nodded her head to him. Her response carried across the room with the scent of rain water in a whisper.
As soon as the words had been said she turned her head. The blanket rose and she drug a corner of it over her cheeks. Once dry she tried to speak again but her voice seemed hallow.
“Dmitrova gave me a few days off with a tail. We can look further into this Avenon situation once I loose the tail. Find some breakfast along the way…”
Her answer had plucked that same discordant string in his heart and, for an instant, his gaze faltered a bit; eyes winking closed then dropping to regard a puddle that was beginning to both be absorbed into and evaporate from the floor at his feet…
Surely you didn’t expect that she would say it back, Prien’s voice mocked.
No, he answered. He had hoped she would have replied in kind but, at the same time, knew that she wouldn’t. But… I would not be able to continue if I had not, at least, told her… and… her answer is enough.
It has to be.
…Nyx’s yellow eyes slithered away from the diminishing puddle and found the darker pool of his cloak where it lay discarded on the floor.
“Dmitrova gave me a few days off with a tail,” Cay said as he bent to close his fingers around the discarded garment, “We can look further into this Avenon situation once I loose the tail. Find some breakfast along the way…”
I suppose it does, Prien’s voice chided even as Nyx chased it from his mind, She, apparently, has nothing more to say on the matter…
“Your tail is half-asleep,” Nyx answered, his eyes gliding back to where Cay still sat curled in her blankets, “underneath the staircase.” He swept the cloak around his shoulders and refastened it. “I shall see to it that he finds the other half while you dress…”
Her lips parted as if she were about to warn him against killing Dmitrova’s shadow - though, she may have been going to say something else - but he stopped the words before they could form with a faint smile and a subtle gesture.
“I will not kill him,” the assassin assured her as he backed towards the bell-hemmed canvas, “worry not. I shall simply make sure that he is truly sleeping before we leave, yes?”
His gaze lingered on her for a long moment before he finally turned on his heel and whispered through the doorway, again, failing to evoke even the faintest pealing from the numerous bells that dangled from the weathered sheet that covered it.
Posted on 2010-01-12 at 22:41:42.
Edited on 2018-11-20 at 12:43:27 by Eol Fefalas