Truth in Blood

[Tahlia Faras]

Zombie

Another mother's breaking
Heart is taking over
When the violence causes silence
We must be mistaken ~ Cranberries/Bad Wolves

le feu et le fer, la flamme et la pierre

It was so hot, and that smell. People said that burning flesh was all alike, but they were wrong. There was a subtle difference in the scent, in the sound - as if the intent mattered. And maybe it did. Maybe flesh knew. Right now there was a coppery undertone to what tickled her nostrils, a distant thunder of voices raised around her. She looked around but everything was just a little…hazy. Indistinct.

le feu et le fer, la flamme et la pierre

The thunder roared louder, and somehow she could still hear the sizzle, not quite the same, this one carried an undercurrent of pressure, of impact, in a way she didn’t remember. The smell was different too - more metallic, iron beneath the copper and there was no earthiness to it, none of the aromatic miasma of herbs and wood that were so intrinsic to the memory that lay coiled like a viper, ready to strike when the moment was right.

The moment was right.

The words echoed. “In your head, in your head” Her brother-in-law's voice, doing what he did - he reminded her so much of Louis, and she could hear her brother's laughter in her head at the thought. We’re nothing alike, Lia - he’s so loud, brash. The center of attention, the showman - more like you and Luc.

Not that, Louis - the way he thinks. The way he looks at things. Like it's a puzzle, something he can figure out and put together. Like you and your potions - you and Maman - I can still see you, in the rafters, gathering ingredients for her. You smelled like resin and lavender…

She could smell him like he was right next to her. He was always right next to her, the four of them piled together on the mattress of herbs and hay for warmth and because that’s just how it was. The Faras Four. Inseparable, literally since before they were born. Lucian, Louis, Tonia - and her. Esme in her cot by the fire. She could hear their breathing, Tonia and Louis snoring in counterpoint to each other, the rustle as Luc turned and she shifted in response. Every night. Tonight there was the smell of duck too, the remains of dinner simmering on the fire still for the morning's breakfast, before the chores and explorations that would keep them out of trouble, whatever that meant.

It was cold, and she burrowed closer to her eldest brother - her nose wrinkling at a stray tendril of smoke. An ember, escaping the fire and finding some new exciting spot to flare and smolder. Only it kept getting stronger. Thicker. She coughed, and heard the others follow suit, knuckling their drowsiness from their eyes as they sat up. The light that danced against the dirt floors said it was sunrise - but she could still hear owls and wolves in the distance, calling to the moon and each other. And it was everywhere. Flickering from every direction in a way the sun never had.

Something, some unnamed awareness, told them not to shout. Just the rustle of bedding as they climbed out, quickly, away from the walls that were growing warm to the touch and toward the hearth, and their mother. There were no voices, not anymore, and the silence was ominous - a held breath before whatever was coming. She could feel her heart pounding against her ribs as Tonia shook Esme awake, finger to her lips as Maman’s eyes opened and she looked up at her children. At the smoke starting to waft through the holes winter wind always left behind, beneath the shutters and the doors - everywhere. There was nothing natural in the light that surrounded them, in the muted crackle and sputter, just waiting to be let loose - and then there was a yell. Wordless, cruel, sudden - and they were in the fire, every wall sprouting a rippling line of flame from its foundation. Wood left dry by a week without rain went up in moments, before the five figures huddled together could even sound an alarm - so quickly there wasn’t even time for tears.

Esme stood up, pulling her children closer and kicking the cot out of the way. There were shouts from outside the flames - jeering and curses, fear given voice, almost as palpable as the heat that herded them closer to the stone hearth which stood as the only thing not burning - fire above and around and in but the stone itself was still bearable to the touch. Torches began to arc through the flames and land among their scant belongings. One bounced from Esme’s arm and she screamed - the sound answered by raucous laughter and cheering and more torches. Luc and Louis started forward, were grabbed back with sobs and cries, Tahlia clinging to her brothers as if the only thing worse than the death that was racing closer with every lick of flame was for them to be separated before it. And then their mothers arms, holding them close, kissing the top of each head (though she had to stretch a little to reach the boys) - her hair almost blending with the glow of destruction around them.

“Mes amours. Souviens-toi toujours que je t'aime.”

They were going to die. Tahlia knew it with the same certainty with which she knew the sun would rise, that her family loved her, and that the village was terrified by them all. Knew that fear was why they would be burned where they stood, their charred remains left buried beneath the ashes of their home. Unmourned. Unlamented. Unwanted, as they had always been by everyone save each other.

Le feu et le fer la flamme et la pierre
mondes dans celui que nous connaissons
Je reste pour qu'ils puissent partir
Mon dernier souhait qu'il en soit ainsi

Pale jade met their match, her mothers hand brushing the hair from her doppelganger's eyes. The flames were licking at her skirts and the heat was hellish, so hot she couldn’t draw a breath, she could barely see - nothing but Esme’s eyes, her eyes as the fire crackled and roared in its hunger to consume -

MAMAN!

The word tore from her throat, her whole body jerked forward, bolt upright in the dark. She couldn’t breathe, she couldn’t - but she could. There was no smoke. No fire. Nothing but silk sheets and the warmth of a certain Selkie meeting her blind flails for reassurance.

[Tahlia Faras]

Edward Jain Blake would answer to E.J., who you were would of course determine how he answered. Most of the time his answer would come with a very solid smack, unless you were one of an extremely exclusive group. The current number of acceptable users was three, and by coincidence they were all women. Two of those had gained the benefit against his will. This of course always happens with family, they give you names and there’s nothing you can do about it. The third person on that list was a completely different story. She could call him whatever she wanted and he would only smile at her with all the affection he possessed. She chose to call him Eddie, and that was just about the most perfect fit for him, as this was the name he chose to call himself as well.

It was the third one which was of most concern to the overlarge selkie. Initially he wasn’t aware of it, but there were a lot of things which Eddie wasn’t aware of. For instance, he had no clue what was happening inside the dreamscape of his little blonde wife, but he knew that something was. It would have been obvious to even the most unobservant of people, what with all that writhing. Eddie normally enjoyed when Tahlia writhed, but then he was usually the reason. If she weren’t asleep, he would probably have been very jealous. Instead he was just concerned. “It was just a dream.”, might be a thing that someone would say to him, as though they expected this would alleviate his disquietude. For the average person it might even work, but while Eddie didn’t know a lot about a lot of everything, he was well aware that Tahlia didn’t have nightmares. He was also cognizant of the fact that whatever else could be said, she wasn’t waking up through it either. It was a good thing he had an abundance of self confidence, this coming from all the previous times when he’d been able to wake her up, or he’d possibly harbor a bit of resentment. No, there was never a need for that with them. It must be something else, couldn’t be anything but something else. With that settled, all he was able to do was hold on tightly to her and murmur soothing words into her ear. He’d tried the other words already.

Eddie recalled a time when their roles had been reversed, except for a couple glaring differences. The first one was, quite likely, dependent on the second. That time he’d felt the presence of Tahlia, knew that she was there even though there was nothing that could be done to aid him. That it was less a dream and more of an assault on his unconscious mind, well whenever you start messing with that kind of doorway you inevitably leave a window cracked. He hoped that she wasn’t having to endure that kind of torture alone. All things do come to an end though, and for Tahlia it was with one word said very loudly.

MAMAN

He released her as she sat up, enduring the loss of warmth which accompanied the vacancy. Better that than to accidentally injure her by holding too tightly. “Not gonna lie, but I hope your mom doesn’t suddenly show up and wonder who’s sleeping in your bed.” He reached for the pack of cigarettes on the nightstand, pulled two free and fumbled for the lighter in the dark. He was handing her one of the lit smokes a moment later. “Wanna talk about it now, or after a bath?”

She didn’t answer immediately, the cigarette accepted, followed by a long draw that sent the ember racing along the cylinder - you’d think the last thing she wanted after dreaming of fire was smoke in her lungs, but this was comforting. Familiar. A touchstone, in its tiny way, to now as opposed to then. The hand not involved in smoking had connected with a very solid, warm bicep, and latched onto it like a drowning man to a rope. It wasn’t a far-fetched analogy. Before she’d entirely exhaled, she was using that grip to haul herself bodily into his lap. And there she curled, tucked in against the broad expanse of her chest, her face buried into the crook of his neck. Safe. The last time she’d been this shaken - he hadn’t let her smoke. But then, she hadn’t been entirely herself then, neither of them had. And the bed was much more comfortable than the cold marble floor of a hotel bathroom.

A bath - a bath sounded incredible, especially in the giant leopard seal sized fixture that dominated their bathroom. Not that Eddie took full advantage often, but she’d wanted to make sure he had the option if he wanted it. Her first words, under normal circumstances, would have probably been a crack about how his family was far more likely to invade their privacy than hers was - but the centuries old loss felt raw in the wake of its reliving, and she couldn’t quite manage it. Getting into a bath meant he’d have to let go of her, at some point - and he wasn’t the only one thinking of another night, and other assaults on their beauty sleep. “Just…don’t let go of me.” Goosebumps rose over bare skin - clothing seemed such a waste when it never seemed to stay on til morning - and she reached up and kissed him until they went away, however long that took. Tahlia didn’t retreat all the way, when the need for air finally asserted itself, resting her forehead against her husbands and letting out a heavy sigh. “It was the fire. The night my mother - the night she was killed. I haven't dreamed of that night in...years.” Since the last time a fire almost killed her. It almost felt like another lifetime, she'd changed so much since then. Another draw of her cigarette, already half gone with how deeply she inhaled. The rest of it tumbled out with the exhale, as if the smoke caught up the words and swept them along. “Del heard me say something in French tonight - I didn’t remember saying it, still don’t…Rachael said it was something about fire and iron. Blood and stone. I was gonna blame it on your brother but - it’s older than that.” The little blonde didn't usually speak French, for all it was her mother tongue. Another soft exhale against his skin, her body sinking against his warmth and strength. Everything was alright in any world that had Eddie Blake in it, and hers most certainly did. “It’s the last thing I ever heard my mother say….and I have no idea what it means.”