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.
Truth in Blood
Moderators: Eddie Blake, Tahlia Blake
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Tahlia Blake
- Adventurer
- Posts: 74
- Joined: Thu Mar 02, 2017 6:24 pm
- Location: Probably at the Golden Pearl
-
Tahlia Blake
- Adventurer
- Posts: 74
- Joined: Thu Mar 02, 2017 6:24 pm
- Location: Probably at the Golden Pearl
Re: Truth in Blood
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.”
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.”
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Tahlia Blake
- Adventurer
- Posts: 74
- Joined: Thu Mar 02, 2017 6:24 pm
- Location: Probably at the Golden Pearl
Re: Truth in Blood
Centuries
Some legends are told
Some turn to dust or to gold
But you will remember me
Remember me for centuries ~ Fall Out Boy
(March 30, 2024)
Keys and purse were dropped and replaced with cigarettes, lighter, and another tumbler of bourbon. Del was in her room, seeking sleep in preparation for another early morning run and pose with her mentor, and Tahlia was heading out to the glass railed patio that surrounded their aerie. She’d been specific with the architects about what she wanted. The landward side was more urban, but as it wrapped around the dwelling, toward the beach, and the ocean beyond, it got simpler, cleaner…letting water and sky dominate and dictate the colors that danced along the surfaces. At the moment, it was all shadow and moonlight, shifting as the cloud cover did. Second to the suite she shared with Eddie, it was her favorite part of the Pearl.
Maybe an invite to Rhydin is in order?. A long, smoky exhale accompanied the memory of her best friend's voice. It had, honestly, never occurred to her, but then, when you measure time in centuries, less than a decade isn’t such a long time. She wondered when it was that they’d stopped being inseparable. She and Luc had stayed in closer contact than the rest, but that was as much practical as anything else. Louis had his base, somewhere in the Carpathian mountains, something about the legends helping keep questions about pesky things like disappearing hikers to a minimum. Tonia had, last she’d heard, been somewhere in Africa, delighting in the conflict,and the profits that came along with them. But that had been a decade at least before she’d come to Rhydin. Luc was the one who had charmed the connection, gotten the coordinates for the Nexus and how to get through - but she didn’t think either of them would have expected the life she’d found on the other side.
Purple gems sparkled on her finger, but it was the pearl she sought, the one nestled in her navel, the one that hadn’t left her skin for a moment since Eddie handed it to her on the beach she looked over now. A single black pearl, when she had a vault of jewels, but he’d carried it back through oceans for her when they were still pretending they weren’t bound heart and soul to each other. Now it was Luc’s voice in her head, rich with laughter. Little sister…why does this worry you so? Your new family meeting the old...do you think we’ll be jealous that you’ve risen so high without us? Might be upset that you’ve waited so long to share the wealth? She breathed out another plume, chased with a swallow of spirits. Or do you fear we’ll resent them…resent you…they aren’t blood, little one. Not like us. But you left us behind
It was exactly what worried her about bringing her siblings here. They’d always seen her as the weakest. The baby. The bait. With all she’d done, all she’d grown here - no one can cut you like blood.
For a long while, almost long enough that she knew Eddie would come looking for the reason her space in the bed was still cold, Tahlia stood and looked out into the night. This high up, the city was quiet, a subtle susurrus of sound that echoed the ocean. The kind of sound that became pulse and breath if you let it. She’d let it. Reluctantly, at first, but now - now this was home.
Pulling the phone from her skirt, she tucked it under the gently shifting blonde waves. “Hey Reg - oh, don’t even, I know you’re up getting your ass kicked by Lula, I told you not to -” There was a quiet laugh, and another drag of her cigarette. “Uh huh, thought so. Listen. Can you do offworld research? Like Earth off- yeah.” Another pause, filled with stuttering protestations from the other side, and slightly more distant laughter. “Listen. Reg. This-this is like finding Carmine.” There was a pause, as Poptart actually stepped away from the game, and Lula (like everyone didn’t know where she spent her land-nights), a much more serious tone to the voice that came back on the line. “You’re looking for descriptions. Plays.” She rattled off what would sound like a string of nonsense words to anyone other than Eddie or Saul, occasionally catching herself in the translation from one set of codes to the other. “I’ll know them. If it’s them…I’ll know.” There was a single question from the other end - Reg knew enough to not be entirely surprised by the answer he received.
“Two words, Reg. Family Reunion”.
Some legends are told
Some turn to dust or to gold
But you will remember me
Remember me for centuries ~ Fall Out Boy
(March 30, 2024)
Keys and purse were dropped and replaced with cigarettes, lighter, and another tumbler of bourbon. Del was in her room, seeking sleep in preparation for another early morning run and pose with her mentor, and Tahlia was heading out to the glass railed patio that surrounded their aerie. She’d been specific with the architects about what she wanted. The landward side was more urban, but as it wrapped around the dwelling, toward the beach, and the ocean beyond, it got simpler, cleaner…letting water and sky dominate and dictate the colors that danced along the surfaces. At the moment, it was all shadow and moonlight, shifting as the cloud cover did. Second to the suite she shared with Eddie, it was her favorite part of the Pearl.
Maybe an invite to Rhydin is in order?. A long, smoky exhale accompanied the memory of her best friend's voice. It had, honestly, never occurred to her, but then, when you measure time in centuries, less than a decade isn’t such a long time. She wondered when it was that they’d stopped being inseparable. She and Luc had stayed in closer contact than the rest, but that was as much practical as anything else. Louis had his base, somewhere in the Carpathian mountains, something about the legends helping keep questions about pesky things like disappearing hikers to a minimum. Tonia had, last she’d heard, been somewhere in Africa, delighting in the conflict,and the profits that came along with them. But that had been a decade at least before she’d come to Rhydin. Luc was the one who had charmed the connection, gotten the coordinates for the Nexus and how to get through - but she didn’t think either of them would have expected the life she’d found on the other side.
Purple gems sparkled on her finger, but it was the pearl she sought, the one nestled in her navel, the one that hadn’t left her skin for a moment since Eddie handed it to her on the beach she looked over now. A single black pearl, when she had a vault of jewels, but he’d carried it back through oceans for her when they were still pretending they weren’t bound heart and soul to each other. Now it was Luc’s voice in her head, rich with laughter. Little sister…why does this worry you so? Your new family meeting the old...do you think we’ll be jealous that you’ve risen so high without us? Might be upset that you’ve waited so long to share the wealth? She breathed out another plume, chased with a swallow of spirits. Or do you fear we’ll resent them…resent you…they aren’t blood, little one. Not like us. But you left us behind
It was exactly what worried her about bringing her siblings here. They’d always seen her as the weakest. The baby. The bait. With all she’d done, all she’d grown here - no one can cut you like blood.
For a long while, almost long enough that she knew Eddie would come looking for the reason her space in the bed was still cold, Tahlia stood and looked out into the night. This high up, the city was quiet, a subtle susurrus of sound that echoed the ocean. The kind of sound that became pulse and breath if you let it. She’d let it. Reluctantly, at first, but now - now this was home.
Pulling the phone from her skirt, she tucked it under the gently shifting blonde waves. “Hey Reg - oh, don’t even, I know you’re up getting your ass kicked by Lula, I told you not to -” There was a quiet laugh, and another drag of her cigarette. “Uh huh, thought so. Listen. Can you do offworld research? Like Earth off- yeah.” Another pause, filled with stuttering protestations from the other side, and slightly more distant laughter. “Listen. Reg. This-this is like finding Carmine.” There was a pause, as Poptart actually stepped away from the game, and Lula (like everyone didn’t know where she spent her land-nights), a much more serious tone to the voice that came back on the line. “You’re looking for descriptions. Plays.” She rattled off what would sound like a string of nonsense words to anyone other than Eddie or Saul, occasionally catching herself in the translation from one set of codes to the other. “I’ll know them. If it’s them…I’ll know.” There was a single question from the other end - Reg knew enough to not be entirely surprised by the answer he received.
“Two words, Reg. Family Reunion”.
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Tahlia Blake
- Adventurer
- Posts: 74
- Joined: Thu Mar 02, 2017 6:24 pm
- Location: Probably at the Golden Pearl
Re: Truth in Blood
(Earth - January 20, 2024)
”Monsieur de Guise you have a visitor.”
Guy de Guise looked up from his desk, fountain pen poised over a ledger book. There was a computer, of course, but some things required the scratch of pen and ink, the meditation of inscribing the words and figures. Most things, if he were honest with himself, but this modern age was so focused on speed. Quantity, not quality, and no one had any patience anymore. “I thought I was rather clear that Thursday evenings were not to be interrupted. I realize you’re new to my employ but that is one of the thing on which I refuse to -“
“Sir, I understand, but she was…rather insistent…” As his new assistant, pity about the last one but he never could keep them long, came closer, he noticed the slim young man was rubbing his wrist, and there was a bruise along one cheekbone. Guy raised a sharp brow, and glanced past Henri..Herbe..whatever his name was to the seemingly young woman approaching behind him. Dark hair, dark eyes, but there was something about the shape of her face that tickled his prodigious memory. Something about the way she stormed toward him, the look in her eye…with one hand he waved his assistant off, out of the way. Whatever this woman had to say to him did not need prying ears.
“I thought it was you.” The voice pulled again at his memory, familiar and foreign at the same time. “We thought you were dead. It’s been centuries. You should be dead. We should be dead. But as soon as I saw you, I knew…I knew. Who forgets the face of the first person who tried to kill them?” She dropped into one of the stiff leather supplicant seats across from him, elbows on her knees, those sharp eyes watching him with more glee than one might expect from her words.
“You seem terribly relaxed for someone I supposedly tried to kill. Not that I’m saying I did, mind you, but I understand victims of attempted murder generally respond with fear, despite popular media tropes…”
“Oh, I’m not afraid of you, Cardinal. You have no mob now, no village of sycophantic rustres to do your bidding. And I’m no longer a helpless child.” The woman shifted back in her seat, hands steepled in front of her, the tips tapping against her chin. “I could kill you, you know. Your assistant is worthless and I didn’t see any decent security on my way in… but that really wouldn’t do anything would it. Those peasants died for your sins already, and there’s no bringing anyone back…but I could.”
It was rare that Guy found himself surprised. A very long existence, and, in his own estimation at least, an above average intellect, meant that humans tended to do precisely what he expected them to. Centuries, she’d said. There had been so many villages, so many peasants. The Church had been useful, back then. The robes demanded respect. Obedience. Authority. He did miss those days. He kept his face still as his mind raced. {i]Rustres[/i] she’d said, with venom in her voice, and we should be dead. And there was something about her face…her voice… “Nans Abres.”
“So you do remember.”
“I do remember. There was nothing left after the fire. A few bits of metal. Everything else was ash.” de Guise leaned back, mirroring the pose of the woman across from him. That she was here, now, older yes but he could still see the defiant child she’d been, long ago. “You look like her, a little. Not the coloring of course, that fiery hair, those gem green eyes, so you aren’t that daughter - but there’s something…”
“Oh, but there was something left. We were left. And the village was left. For a while.” Tonia’s voice was dark, righteous with confirmation as she cut him off. “I hoped we’d just missed you in the slaughter but clearly you’d snuck away. You told them to, but they did it. Surrounded us in our sleep and burnt a woman and four children to death. Or so they thought.” The depths of her eyes flickered with the memory of the flames, and her smile was sharp as knives. “We returned the favor. Surrounded the village with fire, turned it loose and slaughtered anyone who tried to escape. When the fire was out, we went over every inch of ground and made certain nothing lived. Every last man, woman and child in that place...burnt and bleeding…so much blood it almost put out the flames, but we managed. A fitting memorial to our mothers sacrifice.”
Guy breathed out a laugh, his own dark eyes alight with possibilities. Truth be told with the death of the witch and her spawn, he’d lost interest in the village, and moved on a few months later - would have all but forgotten the place all together if it hadn’t been for her. Seeing the poorly hidden surprise on his guest's face, he raised his left hand, only breaking eye contact to look at the drawer he opened with his right, not that he needed to look. “As I was saying before you so impertinently interrupted, there is something else that survived…and indeed, beyond ourselves, may well be the last proof that Nans Abres ever existed at all.” His fingers smoothed over the worn leather, still supple and glossed from handling, and set the folio between them - he was certain he was right, but her response would confirm -
“Where did you get that? That was Maman’s…” Tonia jerked forward, only years of training and traps keeping her from snatching it up at once. Louis had torn the ashes apart searching for it, it had taken months for the burns on his hands to heal, but he’d refused to give over until he was sure it was nowhere.
“Your mothers spellbook…more than that, really. A diary and grimoire all in one. Recipes for salves and tinctures, spells to heal and soothe…little sketches of you and your siblings. Notes on the weather…and a rather great deal of her life before the village. Including her account of a very intense and confusing period nine months before she found herself an unwed mother of four. It seems even she wasn’t aware of who…or what…your father was. But I know. And I shall make you the same offer I made your sister in the cells of Versailles - she turned me down. Will you? Or will you prove yourself your mothers true heir, and learn her secrets in return…?”
((Thanks as always to Eddie Blake and Delaney Lovell for editing and inspiring!))
”Monsieur de Guise you have a visitor.”
Guy de Guise looked up from his desk, fountain pen poised over a ledger book. There was a computer, of course, but some things required the scratch of pen and ink, the meditation of inscribing the words and figures. Most things, if he were honest with himself, but this modern age was so focused on speed. Quantity, not quality, and no one had any patience anymore. “I thought I was rather clear that Thursday evenings were not to be interrupted. I realize you’re new to my employ but that is one of the thing on which I refuse to -“
“Sir, I understand, but she was…rather insistent…” As his new assistant, pity about the last one but he never could keep them long, came closer, he noticed the slim young man was rubbing his wrist, and there was a bruise along one cheekbone. Guy raised a sharp brow, and glanced past Henri..Herbe..whatever his name was to the seemingly young woman approaching behind him. Dark hair, dark eyes, but there was something about the shape of her face that tickled his prodigious memory. Something about the way she stormed toward him, the look in her eye…with one hand he waved his assistant off, out of the way. Whatever this woman had to say to him did not need prying ears.
“I thought it was you.” The voice pulled again at his memory, familiar and foreign at the same time. “We thought you were dead. It’s been centuries. You should be dead. We should be dead. But as soon as I saw you, I knew…I knew. Who forgets the face of the first person who tried to kill them?” She dropped into one of the stiff leather supplicant seats across from him, elbows on her knees, those sharp eyes watching him with more glee than one might expect from her words.
“You seem terribly relaxed for someone I supposedly tried to kill. Not that I’m saying I did, mind you, but I understand victims of attempted murder generally respond with fear, despite popular media tropes…”
“Oh, I’m not afraid of you, Cardinal. You have no mob now, no village of sycophantic rustres to do your bidding. And I’m no longer a helpless child.” The woman shifted back in her seat, hands steepled in front of her, the tips tapping against her chin. “I could kill you, you know. Your assistant is worthless and I didn’t see any decent security on my way in… but that really wouldn’t do anything would it. Those peasants died for your sins already, and there’s no bringing anyone back…but I could.”
It was rare that Guy found himself surprised. A very long existence, and, in his own estimation at least, an above average intellect, meant that humans tended to do precisely what he expected them to. Centuries, she’d said. There had been so many villages, so many peasants. The Church had been useful, back then. The robes demanded respect. Obedience. Authority. He did miss those days. He kept his face still as his mind raced. {i]Rustres[/i] she’d said, with venom in her voice, and we should be dead. And there was something about her face…her voice… “Nans Abres.”
“So you do remember.”
“I do remember. There was nothing left after the fire. A few bits of metal. Everything else was ash.” de Guise leaned back, mirroring the pose of the woman across from him. That she was here, now, older yes but he could still see the defiant child she’d been, long ago. “You look like her, a little. Not the coloring of course, that fiery hair, those gem green eyes, so you aren’t that daughter - but there’s something…”
“Oh, but there was something left. We were left. And the village was left. For a while.” Tonia’s voice was dark, righteous with confirmation as she cut him off. “I hoped we’d just missed you in the slaughter but clearly you’d snuck away. You told them to, but they did it. Surrounded us in our sleep and burnt a woman and four children to death. Or so they thought.” The depths of her eyes flickered with the memory of the flames, and her smile was sharp as knives. “We returned the favor. Surrounded the village with fire, turned it loose and slaughtered anyone who tried to escape. When the fire was out, we went over every inch of ground and made certain nothing lived. Every last man, woman and child in that place...burnt and bleeding…so much blood it almost put out the flames, but we managed. A fitting memorial to our mothers sacrifice.”
Guy breathed out a laugh, his own dark eyes alight with possibilities. Truth be told with the death of the witch and her spawn, he’d lost interest in the village, and moved on a few months later - would have all but forgotten the place all together if it hadn’t been for her. Seeing the poorly hidden surprise on his guest's face, he raised his left hand, only breaking eye contact to look at the drawer he opened with his right, not that he needed to look. “As I was saying before you so impertinently interrupted, there is something else that survived…and indeed, beyond ourselves, may well be the last proof that Nans Abres ever existed at all.” His fingers smoothed over the worn leather, still supple and glossed from handling, and set the folio between them - he was certain he was right, but her response would confirm -
“Where did you get that? That was Maman’s…” Tonia jerked forward, only years of training and traps keeping her from snatching it up at once. Louis had torn the ashes apart searching for it, it had taken months for the burns on his hands to heal, but he’d refused to give over until he was sure it was nowhere.
“Your mothers spellbook…more than that, really. A diary and grimoire all in one. Recipes for salves and tinctures, spells to heal and soothe…little sketches of you and your siblings. Notes on the weather…and a rather great deal of her life before the village. Including her account of a very intense and confusing period nine months before she found herself an unwed mother of four. It seems even she wasn’t aware of who…or what…your father was. But I know. And I shall make you the same offer I made your sister in the cells of Versailles - she turned me down. Will you? Or will you prove yourself your mothers true heir, and learn her secrets in return…?”
((Thanks as always to Eddie Blake and Delaney Lovell for editing and inspiring!))
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