Tiernen Morningwild

Crackle and Sigh

I can hear it over the sputtering lamplight and the hiss of burning paper. Through smoke and laughter at home on the street. The sun’s long since set beyond Boralus Harbour, and not even the nightfall can touch us. But I’m hardly surprised. It’s not that kind of dark.

“Trust is your weakness. You wander an endless spiral… ”

And I’m on my own, sucking on this strange brand of cigarette, stepping out into this strange brand of society, with only two things on my mind. But even my next meal and a place to sleep are inconsequential. I’m on my own, but I’m not alone, because they’re always with me. Just like you’re always with me.

“…nothing but dust in your hands.”

You were there when we learned we could never go home. Shadows converging on the golden city of our birth, only to find out we had it wrong. We all died, that day in Telogrus Rift, you see. We died, and some of us just didn’t know it. I’m lucky, at least, in that home has looked like ancient text and cracking knuckles- a faraway scowl, when things don’t work out-  for a long time now instead.

“You would not have made it here without me.”

And I could more than feel you, through all the foreign tongues and fitful sleep. Walking through the crowded barracks, borrowed beds all in a row. I found myself heavy under the weight of so much nothing, when it should have been you. Hands under the covers in the darkest hours, gasping and whimpering under my breath; I’m pathetic and passing hot, until I’m left cold again.

“And you were born to serve.”

Yes, you were even there when I offered them my services, what paltry skills I have to share. When I first learned just how fast I could fly. Skipping down the coast of Darkshore, I flickered in and out of shadows like fireflies at the foot of the flames. A wild card, tucked into someone else’s hand.

“Only your devotion kept you whole.”

You know my favourite games involve chance; the higher the risk the better the high. But you just can’t say the same when your chips are beating hearts. Bet your life on split seconds, on who to stitch together, out of all the pieces you can find. And who to leave bleeding in the sand, changing landscapes along with lives. But this game was rigged from the start; a bad hand, no matter how we played it.

“I had you. I had you. And now what do you have?”

Someone spills their drink, and I hear it shattering against the wooden planks. Inside the tavern, a group of sailors cut through the din, their chairs scraping across the floor. It becomes a gathering of sorts, with an air of jeering in the crowd, and I slip into view once more in the twilight, straining to listen to them instead. 

There’s a man inside, and he’s asking about kitchen help- a pair of hands for decent pay. A ship set to sail come dawn. A bed, a place to be, to do. And my empty stomach tells me one thing, while you tell me another, as I pull hard on my smoke, drawing silence in my lungs. The last of it rolls into the street, catching in the cracks between the cobblestone as I turn and duck inside- a little bead of light that flickers in the shadows.