Tag: Iloam x 11

The bite of the cider faded only slowly on Khaeris’s tongue. She’d maybe spiked it a little too much. … Maybe. Ha, oh well! No one to know but herself and Pollux. She smirked and took another full drink, holding it in her mouth and picking out flavors as she looked over the quiet Bazaar. People were at home celebrating and sharing food, occasionally people would walk past. She knew them some, Pollux’s neighbors, and they would wave and wish her a happy holiday. Contentment tried to cocoon her. She tried not to fight it.

It was a good day. It had been a small meal, just the two of them, but she was happy for that, too. Pollux had been able to be home more the last month or so. But she didn’t plan on him being there. Even...

Kharris gave Kieran another hug while Coire waited grumpily near the small group of elves. The old direwolf didn't appreciate the disruption of this time of year. Kharris smiled to see the wolf, understand some of his agitation.

She kissed her friend's cheek and sank down to the flat of her feet. He was much taller than she was. It always surprised her, no matter how many times she saw him.

They were no longer children, but they would always be startled by that, so deeply entrenched in each other's more innocent days.

Guilt pulled at her here. Guilt for leaving Kieran out here with only his wolf for company. She knew that she and Asarel were welcome here--but at the same time, Kieran would undoubtedly feel some ease as they left.

Asarel...

The sky was clear blue and the clouds were sailing across the sky. She watched them for hours while the biting scent of the pines filled her lungs and the grass cushioned her rest. There was smoke coming from the cabin nearby; Asarel was cooking for supper and giving her space. Kieran and Coire were out hunting.

She'd been here, like every year, tasting the Hinterlands and letting herself feel things she didn't let out except at this time of year.  This year she'd brought him a small bow and a quiver of arrows, along with the other offerings. Rowan would have been eleven years old, tomorrow. There were a burst of poppies to cut the smell of sap and bring some color to the hilltop. But every year it was the same, the wet-stone smell of...

((The numbering between breaks show the order of events, but this is meant to be read straight through rather than back and forth. These events happened on Shadow Council in 2012, leading up to my "When Your Time Is Up" post.))

“Do you now, Rya?”

Gilithanas’ voice spoke clearly, harsh even. The sound of a gun locked into place came from the entrance of the club they were outside of. The first thing that came to Rya’s mind is, “Oops,” but you do not say such a thing in front of a lawyer with a gun pointed in your general direction. If Gil was aiming at herself or at Tiradell, she could not tell.

4.

It had been a nice day; no one was crying over the communicators about who said what, where, and when, but with the...

(( This post is from 2012. Moriurya had become the Lead Historian for Atlas Treasure Salvage, but was also on a self-imposed mission to keep detailed tabs of the goings ons of ATS and it's members. After a tense moment between her and a few of its members, Rya vindictively sought out someone to give this information to. ))

“Rya, can you hear me?”

The sound of the box echoed in the stone walls of The Aegis. My conversation had just started when Gilthånås’ voice came through the mechanical box on my hip. Why my ear piece was not in to start with was surprising to me. I looked to Tiradell, then picked up the box and spoke into it.

“Yes, I can.”
“Look … I need to talk to you. Where are you?”

I looked to Tiradell...

It had felt like a kind of static shock. Startling. Not quite painful. But a surprise, none the less. She had jumped and so had her heart. No one looking at the scene would have understood the woman's jolt. It was quiet in the room Khaeris had been granted. Her alchemy tools were neat on the dresser top. Perhaps not the best work bench, but it was doing the job in a pinch. Mr. Hale had not minded. His generosity was evident in the superbly crafted set of tools in front of her now.

Her mind whirled with the possibilities. Her gaze fell unseeing onto her research journal. She leaned on the dresser while she thought.

No. It hadn't been true static, of course. She didn't know exactly what, but something had happened. Something she was...

Khaeris lay in a bed that wasn't her own. The sheets were rich. The rug she put her feet down on each morning was thick and soft. The curtains over the window were finely made. The window itself looked over the Court of the Sun, not the Bazaar.

Pollux hadn't come home that week. Other Pollux, not her Pollux.

Gone on a business trip. Zandalar? Had he said that? He supplied the military, he'd said, but was that what this trip was?  Maybe somewhere else. She realized should probably be ashamed she hadn't listened closely, but she wasn't ashamed. Despondency came and went in waves.

Though alone every evening, Khaeris could not be disappointed in this. He was too strange. It was both too familiar and too jarring to see his shape. His...

Her wagon was not particularly accessible.

While getting into the wagon was never a problem; once inside and trying to relax it got more difficult. The prosthetics didn't come off as quickly as they did in his own home, he didn't bother taking them off at all, sometimes. Here, the steps were awkward to the loft, the water closet was too small and there wasn't much to hold onto (never mind you had to climb down the steps again). The floor bounced slightly with your steps and the furnishings were nearly an obstacle course.

The tiny space was hers, but it wasn't welcoming to him.

He hadn't complained; it wasn't like Pollux to complain. He might have been used to figuring things out, but she noticed how much more time, effort, and thought...

I died a little death as I rounded the corner - cigarette dancing in my fingers, singing them with searing little kisses after its fall from on high. 

Aelberyn’s voice, and...Iloam. And atop the steps like a vision - the Ranger Lord, himself. All the other faces blurred, and I couldn’t breathe. I came for cupcakes, and...hadn’t I known this was inevitable? I got the letter to Elaeryn, but perhaps I’d become complacent in the absence of a response. And I’ve had Iloam and Aelberyn’s letters gathering dust for ages, now...but the words spilled from me like blood from a wound, all the same.

There are days I feel powerful...and days I remember that I am also very tender in places. With the three of them gathered before me -...