Khaeris Dawndancer

Khaeris Dawndancer
Khaeris Dawndancer
@khaeris#23
2017-12-10 19:55:05

She'd Have This

She didn’t know what they were called, but Khaeris ran a finger over the spiraling, sharp line of a long, thin machine screw. She pressed the pad of her finger against it for a few seconds, just  enough to be painful, before she carefully set it back down in the funny little magpie pile she’d made on the floor of his room. A few of the very precise screws, a piece of cork (what was that for?), and one of his sketches he’d made for Pyraelia’s prosthetic designs. She’d been sitting there awhile now, in the early hours of the morning, not bothering to look for the restless sleep she’d abandoned an hour ago.

They made her think of him. The strong lines of his ink sketch were his confidence in his work. The hard metal screws that were so useful and practical, pieces in a machine she didn’t understand. When they puddled in her hand, they felt solid and reminded her of the people in the teams he led. And she just liked the feel of the cork, giving and soft in a way. Organic.

It’s not that she’d gone through his things, but …

The screws had been haphazardly collected in a little dish on top of the dresser. The lump of cork she’d found on the bedside holding down the sketch. … And pillow had been pulled from the unmade bed; now it lay on the floor where she’d been sleeping the last few nights. It just smelled like him.

She missed him. She worried about him–was he sleeping? Pyraelia said he’d been drunk as a skunk when she’d seen him. His nightmares… … Her stomach twisted. Was he eating enough? What was he learning in Stormheim? … Would he ever tell her? Her toes curled up tight that he went alone. Had he been frightened? Khaeris took a long inhale, trying to steady herself over the apology that had bubbled up again.

She had never said “I’m sorry” so much in her life. She had never BEEN as sorry as she had been the last two weeks. Regret ached. It was a terrifically unfamiliar emotion for her.

Helal had raged at her in his anger. The betrayal he felt was an explosion centered in his own soul. He wanted to destroy. He wanted to tear down. He had used all the words that worked and wormed into her soul. Twisted her own memories and her own feelings; poison laced in his lips as bile bubbled up inside him.

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Originally posted by bolt-carrier-assembly

Pollux had seethed, but it had felt different. His words had been more syncopated bullets than fireballs. How fitting.

image

Originally posted by stupidteletubbie

She was still burning, and bleeding. It wasn’t yet time to try to heal the wounds. She needed to feel them. For their sake. To make sure she felt the gravity of the situation. She did deserve them, after all. So, proverbially, she’d poke her fingers into the wounds daily. Usually once here in the morning.

Then she’d skip breakfast so her stomach could settle. Then it would be on to the hospital to spend some time with Andaeros with smiles and laughs and reading. Then to the work stations, alchemists all gloved and lost in their words. Then back to check on Pyraelia and keep her company. At least Pyraelia was improving.

It all kept her busy. It kept her sober.

But then she’d sit here, in his room, pouring over pieces of him and wishing she had a way to undo the hurt she’d caused him. She’d wonder what expression she’d see on his face when he came back–if he came back. Would he be angry she’d been in here? Probably. It wasn’t really–… She didn’t mean to–… She’d stayed out of the bed. It felt wrong to think about being there without invitation. Even if he wasn’t there.

She still had a little time. She pulled one of Pyraelia’s luxurious blankets around her shoulders and wrapped it around herself like a cloak. A fingertip drew over the sketch.

If he came back, would he tell her to leave?

She drew the sketch to her under the blanket. She folded it carefully, glancing around as if anyone was there to see her nick it. She slid it into the waistband of her pajama pants and stood. All at once she was sweeping through Pyraelia’s halls back to her ‘own’ room. Surreptitiously, she tucked the drawing into her jewelry box.

If he came back and told her to leave, at least she’d have this.

Comments

Lady Ravasha Witchhawk
Ravasha Witchhawk · @ravasha#112
2018-03-06 16:22:13

"If he came back and told her to leave?" She's very sorry... oh my goodness. Emotions all over reading such a lovely story. Engineering was someone's professions in there? And thank you for making a Y2K themed story? Interesting fit for a medieval universe that still has engineering.

OOC Satore Stillwater
Satore Stillwater · @satore#1
2018-03-06 17:09:41

I'd argue WoW is much more of a "steampunk" universe :)

Lady Ravasha Witchhawk
Ravasha Witchhawk · @ravasha#112
2018-03-06 19:20:25

True. It has steam powered robots and mecha suits and whatnot.

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