Re: Not just a river in the desert
Posted: Thu Mar 14, 2019 1:34 am
Mirathendia rode back to the manor, Whisper of Calm warm and solid beneath her. He snorted, stamped and pawed at the ground as they reached the stable. This was not a greeting for Rilasuka's war wolf, nor for Narath. This was wariness, a warning.
An urchin stepped from the shadows beside the stable doors, the child's hair pulled back in a braid, their pointed ears unadorned, their sharp cheekbones smudged with dirt.
Only a child. Familiar, but perhaps in the way that all children were? Mirathendia tried to put a name to the child’s face as she stroked Whisper's neck. "What do you want?"
The child hesitated. "You said I should come, m'lady. That I should tell you direct myself if I heard news of Khelendria, of Shahadra."
Mirathendia curled her fingers tightly around Whisper of Calm's reins. Gooseflesh crawled up her arms. She forced herself to speak. "Whatever news you have of her is stale." She was tired of this, tired of the renewed rumours of her sister. This latest round had started not long after the last foray into Uldir and Mirathendia was weary of it; this round was so much more impossible than the first.
The child shook their head. "But it's not, m'lady."
"It is."
The child stood firmly, insisted, "Artohl saw her boarding an airship yesterday."
The words went through her--Artohl was a name she remembered--and she listened for her sister's laughter. There was only the pounding of her own heart, the gentle huffing of Whisper's breath, and the child's nervous shifting from foot to foot. "Yesterday," Mirathendia said, her voice sounding far away to her own ears.
The child nodded.
"That's not possible."
"He saw her, m'lady. Said she kept looking over her shoulder. Said she looked a lot like you, m'lady, only shadow-burnt 'cept for a streak across her eye."
Shadow-burnt. A streak across her eye. Mirathendia slid from Whisper of Calm's back. The world shifted beneath her feet and the charger pressed against her. "Where was the airship going?"
"Northrend, m'lady." The child's voice was a nervous squeak.
Why Northrend? What could she possibly want or need there? Mirathendia reached a trembling hand into her coin pouch, handed the child four gold coins. "Two for you. Two for Artohl."
The child pocketed them quickly as if afraid Mirathendia might change her mind. "Thank you, m'lady."
Mirathendia nodded and walked Whisper of Calm into the stable.
Once Whisper of Calm was settled in his stall, Mirathendia walked across the grounds. The memory of Syreena, Feyde and Tydrendoriel conversing in the Meat Rack. Who they were before. The way people change. Her chest had tightened as they spoke and her sister had laughed. Had insisted, You’ve changed, too, if only you’d see it.
Mirathendia hurried inside, closed the manor door behind her. A low growl came from the lounge, then Ri called, “Mira?”
She strode past the lounge toward the staircase.
Rilasuka walked into the entryway. “Are you well, my sunlight?”
“I’m fine.” Mirathendia’s arms were exhausted; her head ached and the whispering wouldn’t stop. She walked upstairs, into her bedroom and peeled off her sweat-soaked tunic and leggings, then strode over to the wine cabinet.
A single bottle remained behind the tinted glass; she’d have to send another order to One More Glass. She took the bottle and opened it, poured a glass of Dalaran red.
The drunk one. And Mirathendia didn’t know if that was her sister, or her memory of Rona’zae describing her sister.
Mirathendia downed the wine. It tasted of ash and blood, death and decay. She refilled the glass.
Ri put her hand on Mirathendia’s shoulder and Mirathendia flinched. “Please talk to me.” Ri’s breath was warm through Mirathendia’s hair as she whispered.
“How?” How could she tell Ri what she’d done to her sister? How could she tell Ri about the voices? About the incessant whispering? How could she tell her beloved that her sister was still there, still with her, clinging to her thoughts like a blessing and a nightmare both?
Mirathendia took another long drink of wine.
Ri stroked her thumb against the side of Mirathendia’s neck, said, “One word, and then another, and then another, until you have said all that needs said.”
Mirathendia laughed, choked on her wine and then on a sob. She pulled away from Ri.
Ri lowered her hand, sighed. “You are like a wounded beast who won’t allow herself to be helped.”
A beast? Is that what she thinks of you?
Anger flared hot and wild inside of Mirathendia’s head. Star-shot void blacked out her vision. “I am not a beast.” She flung her glass to the floor and it shattered sending splatters of wine and slivers of glass glinting and dancing through the air.
How dare she.
“How dare you.” Mirathendia turned on Ri, her hands and forearms prickling with pins and needles, fingers and palms burning with Light.
Rilasuka stepped back. “Sunlight…”
“Get out. If anyone in this room is a beast it is you.”
“Mira.” Ri’s voice held the kind of pain that Mirathendia didn’t remember hearing in it before.
“GET OUT!”
Ri inclined her head, closed her eyes. “At your pleasure.” She looked up and backed out of the room, held Mirathendia’s gaze as she slowly pulled the door closed. “Always at your pleasure, my sunlight.”
The door clicked shut.
Mirathendia’s vision cleared and she screamed. She screamed and sobbed and cried until her throat was hoarse and her eyes burned and exhaustion took her.
An urchin stepped from the shadows beside the stable doors, the child's hair pulled back in a braid, their pointed ears unadorned, their sharp cheekbones smudged with dirt.
Only a child. Familiar, but perhaps in the way that all children were? Mirathendia tried to put a name to the child’s face as she stroked Whisper's neck. "What do you want?"
The child hesitated. "You said I should come, m'lady. That I should tell you direct myself if I heard news of Khelendria, of Shahadra."
Mirathendia curled her fingers tightly around Whisper of Calm's reins. Gooseflesh crawled up her arms. She forced herself to speak. "Whatever news you have of her is stale." She was tired of this, tired of the renewed rumours of her sister. This latest round had started not long after the last foray into Uldir and Mirathendia was weary of it; this round was so much more impossible than the first.
The child shook their head. "But it's not, m'lady."
"It is."
The child stood firmly, insisted, "Artohl saw her boarding an airship yesterday."
The words went through her--Artohl was a name she remembered--and she listened for her sister's laughter. There was only the pounding of her own heart, the gentle huffing of Whisper's breath, and the child's nervous shifting from foot to foot. "Yesterday," Mirathendia said, her voice sounding far away to her own ears.
The child nodded.
"That's not possible."
"He saw her, m'lady. Said she kept looking over her shoulder. Said she looked a lot like you, m'lady, only shadow-burnt 'cept for a streak across her eye."
Shadow-burnt. A streak across her eye. Mirathendia slid from Whisper of Calm's back. The world shifted beneath her feet and the charger pressed against her. "Where was the airship going?"
"Northrend, m'lady." The child's voice was a nervous squeak.
Why Northrend? What could she possibly want or need there? Mirathendia reached a trembling hand into her coin pouch, handed the child four gold coins. "Two for you. Two for Artohl."
The child pocketed them quickly as if afraid Mirathendia might change her mind. "Thank you, m'lady."
Mirathendia nodded and walked Whisper of Calm into the stable.
Once Whisper of Calm was settled in his stall, Mirathendia walked across the grounds. The memory of Syreena, Feyde and Tydrendoriel conversing in the Meat Rack. Who they were before. The way people change. Her chest had tightened as they spoke and her sister had laughed. Had insisted, You’ve changed, too, if only you’d see it.
Mirathendia hurried inside, closed the manor door behind her. A low growl came from the lounge, then Ri called, “Mira?”
She strode past the lounge toward the staircase.
Rilasuka walked into the entryway. “Are you well, my sunlight?”
“I’m fine.” Mirathendia’s arms were exhausted; her head ached and the whispering wouldn’t stop. She walked upstairs, into her bedroom and peeled off her sweat-soaked tunic and leggings, then strode over to the wine cabinet.
A single bottle remained behind the tinted glass; she’d have to send another order to One More Glass. She took the bottle and opened it, poured a glass of Dalaran red.
The drunk one. And Mirathendia didn’t know if that was her sister, or her memory of Rona’zae describing her sister.
Mirathendia downed the wine. It tasted of ash and blood, death and decay. She refilled the glass.
Ri put her hand on Mirathendia’s shoulder and Mirathendia flinched. “Please talk to me.” Ri’s breath was warm through Mirathendia’s hair as she whispered.
“How?” How could she tell Ri what she’d done to her sister? How could she tell Ri about the voices? About the incessant whispering? How could she tell her beloved that her sister was still there, still with her, clinging to her thoughts like a blessing and a nightmare both?
Mirathendia took another long drink of wine.
Ri stroked her thumb against the side of Mirathendia’s neck, said, “One word, and then another, and then another, until you have said all that needs said.”
Mirathendia laughed, choked on her wine and then on a sob. She pulled away from Ri.
Ri lowered her hand, sighed. “You are like a wounded beast who won’t allow herself to be helped.”
A beast? Is that what she thinks of you?
Anger flared hot and wild inside of Mirathendia’s head. Star-shot void blacked out her vision. “I am not a beast.” She flung her glass to the floor and it shattered sending splatters of wine and slivers of glass glinting and dancing through the air.
How dare she.
“How dare you.” Mirathendia turned on Ri, her hands and forearms prickling with pins and needles, fingers and palms burning with Light.
Rilasuka stepped back. “Sunlight…”
“Get out. If anyone in this room is a beast it is you.”
“Mira.” Ri’s voice held the kind of pain that Mirathendia didn’t remember hearing in it before.
“GET OUT!”
Ri inclined her head, closed her eyes. “At your pleasure.” She looked up and backed out of the room, held Mirathendia’s gaze as she slowly pulled the door closed. “Always at your pleasure, my sunlight.”
The door clicked shut.
Mirathendia’s vision cleared and she screamed. She screamed and sobbed and cried until her throat was hoarse and her eyes burned and exhaustion took her.