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Tweak says, "And ambidextrous."

Lady Vera of Beit-Orane (v_eritas) wrote in caeleste,
@ 2011-01-20 11:37:00

Entry tags:

close to home, eithne savastian, vera of beit-orane

Stain (Eithne)
The texture wasn't to ever be erased from her memory -- warm, thick, clinging to the skin more than any ink. Currents ran across her hand, a hand that was limp underneath that foul liquid that pulsed and swirled. It flowed over the edge of the platform that was parallel to where she lay. The floors were gold and engraved with hieroglyphs of the Great Hunter leading the men who followed him; she could speak the myths from memory even with as little time she'd spent in Armas' temple. The floors gleamed even beneath smears of blood. The floors of the Generals' Tower. If she looked up, she might have seen the sky through the glass dome.

Her eyes moved, but only because she could move nothing else. A headless body wearing her mother's robes lay just outside the shadows. Her head... Vera did not look for it. She did not want to see it. Hania's corpse, covered in the dirt she'd shoveled over her days before, was strung just above on invisible wire. Seca strung dead birds in such a way on the lawns of their home once to display the feathers of those she'd killed hunting. Vera tasted the blood in her mouth now. Her chest was shivering. She could not move her hands. The High Lord's ring was still on her finger. She struggled to move just that one finger. Anything. She couldn't...

"Are you ready?"

Her father's voice. The scrape of a blade across the dais. There were the sounds of feet kicking wildly against the floor, sliding in the blood. Boots, perhaps of a man. She could hear someone frantically whispering, but could not see them. They were thrashing, though, and beating against the floor. Vera knew the sounds.

Her father was standing over her.

"Are you ready now?" came the agitated question.

The freedom of her hand came as instantly as the hatred that rushed the gates of her fear. Nothing was inexplicable in that moment. Vera launched herself up from the blood, knowing where to aim without looking. There was the sudden weight of a knife in her palm and she brought the edge right to the skin of--

Her throat.

A tin mug on the ground. One of Vera's hands held Eithne by her tunic while the other held a knife tightly against her throat. That intense, burning hatred was still moving through her veins when she recognized Eithne's face. It died a quick death, but it had been there, at the front of her eyes. Vera released the other Rider quickly and dropped her weapon, which clattered in the dirt just beside the tin mug.

Other things quickly came to Vera. Nausea, mostly. The smell of the campfire. Stars still hung over head. They were a day outside of Simanel. Vera had been, up until a few hours ago, awake through almost the entire journey. After their party split at the ruined chateau, she had driven herself harder than before. Bahn and Eithne had alternated exhaustion, one for healing and one for being healed, but Vera stubbornly refused it until she couldn't any longer. She had not even remembered falling asleep on her bed roll.

She was still frozen, staring at Eithne, who was staring back at her and opening her mouth to probably say something foul.

Rightly foul.

"I'm sorry," Vera said before she could. She bowed her head. "I'm sorry."

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got_a_light
2011-01-21 05:44 am UTC (link)

"That." Eithne began, she'd wanted to sling curses at the woman. Instead she put her own hand to her throat to check for blood. Vera kept sharp knives, apparently she hadn't been pressing hard enough. Still. The very thought that waking her up was enough to almost get killed was enough for Eithne to be pissed off. She'd already been in a state of irritability considering. To begin with Eragos had left her behind. So she was angry, and sad at once. Then there was the fact that she was still sore and still tired even with all the healing that Bahn had done.

She was as comfortable as she could be, but that wasn't saying damn much.

"Is the last time I wake your crazy fucking ass up. Bahn can do it from now on." Eithne kicked the tin cup, which had originally had whiskey in it. They didn't have time to brew anything, and it was a good strong drink that warmed people up. But now it was all done. Thanks Vera.

Eithne put distance between them by stepping away from Vera. She'd just been trying to switch off guard duty, but now Eithne was sure she'd be wide awake for awhile. Great. Almost getting killed by someone whom she was supposed to trust would do that. What a horrible night.

"It's your turn."

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v_eritas
2011-01-23 07:11 am UTC (link)

Vera nodded and walked over to pick up the tin mug from the ground first, against habit which called out to the knife. It was odd to use the inside of her sleeve to wipe off the cup when her uniform was already imperfect. The action was automatic. Vera thought that she should have apologized again. She lifted the knife from the dirt and slid it into the side of her boot. She should have apologized again or said something biting. Instead Vera did not say anything.

Eithne stood some feet away now. Vera stepped around the campfire and went to sit on the stub of wood at the edge of the circle. She rested her arm on her knee and flexed her hand. Crazy. Nothing thinking clearly. The words seemed to creak inside of her muscles and she wanted very badly just to shake them off.

Would she have followed through with the blade, if the dream had gone differently? It was still difficult, believing something so vivid was a dream. She did not want to think of how Bahn would have reacted. Or if it had been her nephew... Vera couldn't look back at Eithne, so instead she looked inside the mug and finally recognized the scent coming from it.

"Whiskey," she said quietly, confirming it only to set the empty mug on the ground. There was a long pause. "That's too bad."

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got_a_light
2011-01-25 11:41 am UTC (link)

"No kidding." Eithne snapped. She'd been much more irritable since Eragos rode off on his own. With good reason. He'd left her there. She knew it wasn't fair to be as mad as she was, but she was mad. He'd left her behind, and he'd rode away angry as a bull. Without giving her time to explain. Without taking her aside and saying anything to her. They hadn't been alone since Agelethea and there was.. things she wanted to say. Things she wanted to know. She wanted to know if he hated her. Or would he hate her forever.

She wanted to tell him that she just wanted to protect him because he mattered to her. After spending her whole life trying to make people not matter to her at all she'd gone and done this and it was.. It was this.

She swung at the air and immediately regretted it. Healing only did so much, she winced and held her side before sitting down flat on the ground. Pouting, in her own way.

"Do you think they already reached Simanel?" Eithne said quietly. Mostly to ignore the pain she was feeling right then.

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v_eritas
2011-01-26 02:14 am UTC (link)

That question was a lead-in to a conversation she wasn't sure she wanted to have. Vera hadn't been avoiding thoughts of Eragos and Sleeping Tiger, but she hadn't been encouraging her mind down that road either. She didn't regret being honest back at that ruined campsite. Her motivation for that honesty was what bothered her. In a time when Vera should have worn the mask of the diplomat or the Lady, she'd worn none. Her grief had been too strong to withstand another loss, even a necessary one.

Eragos' parting words should have cut her more deeply. The truth was that Vera, somewhere in her gut, had known Eragos would ride away from her questions. Blaming herself was not completely fair and too close to self-pitying. Their group had been splitting apart since they left Agethlea. Yet Vera had known her words would spark his temper. And if she'd wanted to keep the group together, even a little longer, she would have not asked even one of them.

Vera hadn't answered Eithne immediately. Her eyes went from staring down at that empty cup -- truly a loss -- to scanning the field in the distance. The land around them was mostly flat and without much trees. It was not hard to see when someone was riding up on you, but it did not give you much time to prepare for them either. Their campfire wasn't much of one at all, more embers than anything else. It was to avoid too much noticeable smoke.

She was increasingly paranoid the closer they got to Simanel. Faxril had made an attack on the city seem imminent and they were riding straight into it with only two Riders in good health...two Riders that had to defend one wounded and a child. Vera had no idea what they would find. Bahn seemed more optimistic, but she thought that was mostly an act.

"You ask that question knowing how he rides when he's angry."

Vera didn't turn to look at her.

"I have no doubt they're in Simanel by now."

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got_a_light
2011-01-31 08:38 pm UTC (link)

Eithne knew the answer before Vera answered her. She just wanted to think that Eragos wouldn't go to Simanel without them. Or that he'd left them at all. Of course, if Vera hadn't snapped at him when that's exactly what he was fishing for. Because he was already angry about Talon.

Because of her.

Eithne fished the flask out of it's hiding place on her person. Her uniform was a mess, but it didn't matter right now. She unscrewed the cap and took a long pull from it. Alcohol wouldn't make it better, at all. She held the thing out for Vera.

"Well. There's nothing to be done for it now. If we want to ride like hell the rest of the way I think I'll be fine. We won't catch them but at least we won't be too far behind. If.. If Simanel is like what Faxril said it would be, aren't you worried about taking Veros there? Or do you think the Castel will be safe enough for him?" Eithne was overly concerned for the boy.

Considering she still felt as though it were her fault that his sister was now dead.

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v_eritas
2011-02-03 12:27 am UTC (link)

Vera took the flask when it was offered and drank from it, not wincing at the bite of liquor at the back of her throat. She held on to the flask for only a moment before handing it off again.

"No where is safe for him. But he has the best chance surrounded by Riders."

She glanced over her shoulder but did not meet Eithne's eye. Her face was shadowed by the darkness that collected in the fields in front of her, beyond her tight shoulders and dry hands. Vera turned her face away again, shook her head.

"It wasn't the way I wanted to introduce Veros to the Castel. He has never been to the city and he will likely see it burning. I used to tell them stories about Simanel when I'd visit. About the Riders I had met. They had always wanted to see it, both him and his sister. And that was so strange...to be viewed so kindly by children of my homeland. Never to be asked why I was in a white uniform instead of armor from Eistocene."

Vera could still feel burning at the back of her throat, but she did not think that came from whiskey.

"It's not an easy thing to explain to an eight year old. In the end, it's going to come down to him deciding to survive more than who's standing in front of him, protecting him. Veros has the advantage of knowing he's hunted though and who is coming for him. That is more than what I had."

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got_a_light
2011-02-09 02:25 am UTC (link)

Eithne didn't understand how someone could sound like that when speaking of their nephew. Perhaps too much had happened to Vera over these past weeks. Eithne was sure she would have been snapping and caving a lot more. So either, Eithne was weaker than Vera, or Vera was a ticking bomb. Eithne was leaning toward the second option.

Considering how she's snapped at Eragos. Which was something Vera hardly ever did.

"I don't think he's going to be capable of taking on the people we've been taking on, Vera. If we find somewhere safe to hide him I suggest we do it. With farmers, or leave him in the Castel once we've secured the place. He's eight years old, he certainly can't go off fighting." Eithne took another pull from the flask.

"I don't even know if all of us are going to be able to keep on fighting, let alone win this battle. It seems like the closer we get the longer the road becomes." Eithne scratched the back of her neck with her free hand.

She really just needed to get back beside Eragos. Punch him in the face, and move on. The asshole.

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v_eritas
2011-02-11 05:09 am UTC (link)

"That's not what I mean," Vera said quietly. She kept looking down at the cup as if the tin would reflect words toward her, ones that would make it easier for her to speak. She hadn't had a normal conversation in what seemed like weeks and would never have suspected she'd make the attempt with Eithne.

Her hands pressed against one another for warmth, but still felt too cold. That coldness made it hard to feel her way through things. Sometimes her skin was so cold she could imagine that it was wet. She always worried about being too cold. About looking like her mother, the lady with such a still face. Maybe that was why Vera couldn't stop being angry. Or she couldn't stop dreaming. Maybe that was why the darkness seemed so much blacker as she sat on this log, staring out into the plains.

"No where is going to ever be safe. I can put all of the Riders in the Castel around him and it won't be safe. I can sit outside his door or stand inside his room and...it won't matter."

The cup was as empty as it'd been since all the whiskey was spilled from it. Nothing should have been spilled from it. She should not have woken that way. She should not have felt a dream to be so real. She should not have lived in a world where that dream could be real. Vera's thoughts turned in circles.

"Longer? Really? The road is getting shorter, quicker for me. It's not really a matter of if we can fight, if we can do our duty. Not to me. I believe everyone will perform at their best."

She pressed her lips together.

"It's just that thought of what's left afterward. I never really thought about that, all this time. I guess I always assumed there wouldn't be anything left of me after...and that made it simpler. Just not as easy as I'd like."

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got_a_light
2011-02-18 05:32 am UTC (link)

"How do you know that?" Eithne said angrily suddenly. "We can keep him safe. I didnt nearly die in order for him to just continuously be in danger. Oh it may be a long way off, but that doesn't mean you give up hope." Eithne looked at her with her anger bristling at the edges of her eyes, then suddenly looked away. It was strange to be trying to renew hope in a woman who had been trying to do the same thing to Eithne not a month ago, or maybe it had been a month, or more.

Eithne was having a hard time keeping track of time.

"The Free Cities will pull together, they always do. Or at least the people will. We're a lot stronger than some people give us credit for, but when I was younger I watched the breaking destroy businesses, ruin families, people pulled together and most of that stuff resolved itself. Yes, this is bigger, but that doesn't mean we're not capable of it." Eithne let out a breath.

"This is the longest mission I've ever been on, and by far the most difficult. I forgot how to smile, I was ready to leave everything behind and go somewhere else, but I couldn't. I can't." Eithne looked at Vera now.

"But you can't think that way, Vera. You're supposed to be the one that holds everything together and has all the hope. Yes, taking it to the courts isn't going to work. Yes, it's gotten worse, but don't thinks always get worse before they get better? Whiskey normally does." Eithne said as she held out the flask again, this time she nearly smiled.

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v_eritas
2011-02-27 07:01 pm UTC (link)

The taking of Eithne's flask was too slow for one who was about to take a gulp of whiskey. Vera wanted to take the idea of a more pleasant future to heart, the way one might down a better-aged whiskey, but the sentiment settled too quietly behind everything else on her mind. It wasn't that simple any more. And it felt wrong not to take comfort from someone who...wouldn't have offered it not long ago.

Vera drank, but held onto the flask. Maybe because she needed to. Maybe because she hadn't drank anything in Agethlea, or the camp afterward, or even long before that...

More than the People had pulled together after the Breaking, Vera wanted to tell Eithne. Their country rebuilt quickly for many reasons. There had been a lot of strong arming from Oisea, Simanel and Agethlea to get the Beiten-K'danav to act appropriately during the chaos. Thinking back that far made Vera wonder on a lot of things. She had been so young. She had been, once, full of confidence that she would prevail against the ails of her country.

Confidence, not hope, is what she longed for again. Hope seemed a ghostly thing; Hope had taken its death as quickly as those she once treasured. Vera could not call it back to her. It could no longer flee to her brother's home in the West nor to Agethlea nor the man to whom she'd given her unguarded heart. And where else did Hope have to flee but Simanel, her home that burned in her dreams?

"When I rode alone, I imagined myself when everything was done," she said, finally. "Mostly to pass the time. I thought I'd wander the Free Cities and teach as an Elder Rider. No high titles, no assignments, just giving private lessons and charging just enough fees to live comfortably until I decided to use the property my brother gave me. Like the old Captain Mearann did when he left Simanel."

Vera smiled where Eithne hadn't been quite able to, but it was a fading thing. She could not hold on to it.

"I also thought it would be nice to become as silver haired as Hasna."

The elder Rider often took a mean sort of offense to being called old. Vera thought it was an accomplishment though. How did one tell an older woman that they too wished for colorless hair, or the imperfections of road tested skin? It was impossible without getting a biting remark from Hasna. Vera thought that was too bad.

She took one last drink from the flask before handing it back.

"And then one day I...stopped being able to picture myself with silver hair. Even if I held a silver chain against it, I couldn't envision myself aging. The property my brother gave me was burned, the people who worked it were killed. I fled to a new duty on the Western Sea because I was afraid of what such a loss meant to me. And after that, I started to carry a sword."

And the losses only grew since then. Vera looked back at the blade she had left on the other side of the camp. She never slept with it at her side, not any more, and though she would place it far from her when she was not riding or fighting, it always inched closer and closer to her hand. Unavoidable. Always waiting.

"You can't ever protect anything with a sword. It's meant for many things -- change, revenge, power, sacrifice -- but it always invites an ending. Even with all the control in the world, a sword will always call to Death. Yours, or someone else's."

She finally looked at Eithne. Her face was shadowed and solemn, almost void of any expression save a very slight downturn of her lips.

"That was part of the reason I was so surprised to see one at your hip. You stood distant from the Code, from duty and anything serious for all this time...you've changed much to take a vow like a sword."

"My own blade took the life of the one person who never doubted me. Who believed, more strongly than I, that I was capable of saving my country. I am sure Gola intended it that way, to break me. In a way he did. I will never be the same person. In a sick, demented way...he finally gave purpose to that blade. I once carried it not knowing what I would do. I did not know what my vow was. But now I do."

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got_a_light
2011-03-10 06:10 pm UTC (link)

"Everyone assumes that I didn't believe in anything but myself. Maybe I am a bit selfish, but that's because I don't have anyone else that's important enough to look out for besides myself. Or I didn't, until I joined the White Riders. I could blame all of this on my recruitment, but I wouldn't change it. The sword is simply there because fighting with fists isn't enough to take on these people any more Vera." Eithne didn't want to be so defensive. She did have things she always stood behind, or against. She always protected Children, or Women who could not help themselves. She always stood against the all emcompassing Law and those who used the law to get ahead in life.

She always believed that the people could fix things without the help of their government. That she could. But she never considered herself particularly above the law, or a leader of any kind. She still didn't

She still followed someone.

Of course, right now, he was a long way off.

"And what will you do, Vera?"

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v_eritas
2011-03-16 12:42 am UTC (link)

A smile flashed across her face when Eithne spoke of the White Riders, lasting only as long as the firelight against her cheek. It had been a compliment she offered the other Rider, for her growth, and still Eithne seemed to rail against it. Vera hoped that that did not change. She hoped a sword would be enough for someone like Eithne, vow or no vow. Those weren't things she couldn't say, if Vera had to be the one holding things together. Hope wasn't something she had to have, if she could pretend well enough for everyone else.

"What I will do..."

Her voice was quiet and snaked out into the darkness beyond the camp. She did not look back at Eithne. It was hard to speak on the vow that was hardening in her veins and rattled in the colder parts of her mind. Hard to explain how sick she felt when she thought of a burning Simanel and a quiet Eistocene. Agethlea, choking on the dust of its ruined courts, was like sunlight fading into an ashy horizon. As a young girl she had longed for battles, direct and bloody and honest. Now she wished she could have argued in a fine marble hall and convinced her country to settle itself in a more righteous path. She could see that dark eyed girl passing her by angrily, biting at the chance to prove she was worth something.

Everyone, Vera thought, is selfish.

How did one say, I will kill my father? How did one say, I will destroy my House?

"I will watch the camp, while you sleep. It's a long way to the Castel," she finished, too neatly. She slid her hands over her knees and stood up. Vera could still taste the whiskey in the back of her throat. She remembered putting a blanket on Eithne's shoulders some time ago, trying to convince her to come back to the camp and the other Riders. She paused. "Thank you for...the whiskey. Sorry about the knife."

Vera walked over and picked up her sword. She moved out of the firelight and into the space beyond to start her patrol.

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