Caeleste
never as clear as you think
Recent Entries 
12th-Apr-2011 01:17 pm - stolen hours (onainat) [onainat sjorl, vedette uthral]
There were wide open markets in Faustben, with every ware a man could have on open display. Stalls of all assorted colors lined the streets, with smells of warm food and warm ales. With chilled wines piled in long troughs meant for horses water, but instead filled with ice and snow from the mountains, where the wines were set in beautiful glass bottles of all sizes and shapes. Vedette stayed a few paces behind Onainat and watched the woman carefully. Her new friend had what Vedette liked to call fast hands. She'd turn something over and have it up her sleeve before someone could bat an eyelash, and there would be an ugly coin or a rock of somesort in the thing's place. Vedette had enough money with her to pay for more than dresses, but she certainly didn't have enough to buy everything Onainat would have an eye for.

The other dragon seemed to have an eye for shiny things. )
17th-Jan-2011 12:12 pm - to what other end (ithacles, vedette, onainat) [ithacles, onainat sjorl, ulbarich, vedette uthral]
He should have been interrogating prisoners. There were four of them. As more than one lieutenant had pointed out, he was not an expert in interrogation. His training was that of a soldier, not that of a questioner, and it was important that he know the difference. That he keep himself apart from all of this. That was what found him not in the hall of the iron bars but in the hall of the creaking wood.

There were many such chambers in a castle. Long, rectangular rooms of naked stone that held banners from bygone eras. When he was a boy, and Gerbold had brought him to this place, it had been difficult not to admire the banners. There was history woven into their fabric. He'd stared long after he was meant to. Gerbold had been forced to drag him away. Now they seemed merely old. On the verge of becoming threadbare. Ulbarich had no idea what the future held for him.

The roots he had were being cut away, little by slow, it seemed. )
12th-Dec-2010 04:35 pm - vicissitude (onainat, ulbarich) [onainat sjorl, ulbarich, vedette uthral]
The Otter and Fowl wasn't very far from the castle, but far enough away for her liking. She went there because he suggested it and because she hoped at least if he knew where they were that he might come to find them. But the hope was small because of how Ithacles had reacted, and even more so because of how she had reacted herself. The main of the inn was a Tavern, like most inns in the capitol it had too warm insides. Wood and stone keeping the heat of fireplaces inside the walls as much as they could. It was cold enough at night that you could set out water and it would be ice in the morning. Solid ice. It was those nights that Vedette enjoyed the best. But here she had Onainat to think of to a warm inn with many great big fires was the best idea. Ulbarich was still silent as he accompanied them. She wondered why he was so silent. Why he was taking them, and what exactly had happened in her absence.

There were likely too many things to say and not enough time to say them. )
28th-Nov-2010 03:49 pm - no more secrets (ithacles, onainat, ulbarich) [ithacles, onainat sjorl, ulbarich, vedette uthral]
The walk into Faustben's capital was the hardest one she'd had to endure for a very long time. Those men guarding the entrance to the city itself knew her by sight but neither saluted. She didn't know if she were a Captain any longer but she felt naked without her uniform as she strode towards the castle with Onainat only a few steps behind her. It wasn't nearly as cold as the pass to get here and Onainat had shed a few of those jackets she'd been wearing. But kept the hat firmly on her head. There was only a light dusting here in the main capital. Eventually everything would be snowed in and men would push and shovel the snow around so that people could walk freely to and from places. Still everything was iced down. Icicles hung from shop signs and from rooftops. And the castle loomed in the distance with a fresh coating of snow on its higher towers.

It looked like a picture. )
15th-Nov-2010 06:21 pm - elements (onainat) [onainat sjorl, vedette uthral]
There was one good thing about the journey from Chlen to Faustben, there were a great many outposts to stop at and plenty of wine to be consumed. It wasn't that the drink could erase their sadness, but it kept them from thinking of it too much. At least, it did for Vedette. She wondered now if that was all there was left. The name she'd taken up in the human world was the one she chose to give out, the one she chose to be called by. No one said Iluq the way Koe had, and now he could no longer say it. Perhaps in time she would feel alright with someone calling her that again, but Onainat seemed to understand. They took turns riding Red, though Vedette knew it would have been far easier to leave the beast tending a field somewhere and flying the rest of the way... neither could leave him.

Red was as much Koe's friend as he'd been Koe's horse, and neither of them would abandon him even if the Horse might have wanted it. Instead they reached that last outpost before they would have to venture up into the mountains toward Faustben's capital. There Vedette had retrieved a good amount of her credits in the country, the money was used to buy Onainat some warmer clothes, and Vedette a new riding cloak. She did not need a good thick jacket, or three, like Onainat did. But a nice cloak was the only thing she'd need in the mountains. She refilled her quiver with arrows and restrung her bow over a dinner of far too much warm stew. Once they left the outpost there was little in the way of warm meals unless Vedette lit a fire and she was never eager to.

Onainat was more than willing to start a fire every time they stopped. )
11th-Nov-2010 05:52 pm - Shadow of Heaven [ Iluq ] [onainat sjorl, vedette uthral]
The gypsies left them at the border. Onainat had thanked them in the way family might, embracing them and kissing their cheeks. After they were gone, she helped Iluq strap all of their belongings to Red. Her father's body, tied to a make-shift cart and covered in linen, was to be pulled by Onainat's own hands. She insisted on this. She was not as strong in her human form as Iluq and her palms were not used to the roughness of wood, but it felt right to pull the cart through the trees alone. No sound carried in the forest but that of the birds sitting in the branches and the wind.

Onainat never believed in marking her childhood home. The forest floor, abandoned trails, the fingers of afternoon sun raking through the trees: these things were stronger than any ink or engraving. If the gods gave her nothing but her fingers, she could feel her way. This was the first patch of the world she'd loved. It wasn't just that her father was from here. It was the presence of this forest, of where their home once stood. It was as if a place could be a living, breathing character in her life. One that never moved or judged but existed so vividly that it stuck sweetly to the insides of her heart.

The walk through the trees seemed long to Onainat. Lost in thought, she did not keep track of where she was until the soft crunch of leaves beneath her boots gave way to waist-high grass. Onainat looked up as she waded into a sea she'd missed. Green waves of grass rippled outward in the shadow of the mountains. At the other end of the field, near a crooked old plum tree, was the remnants of a poorly constructed wall.

"We're here," she said to Iluq. She looked over her shoulder. "If you go look for the materials you will need for a marker, I will..."

She trailed off, walking a little farther before setting down the cart and ignoring the shiver that moved through her muscles from the effort.

I will take care of things here. )
21st-Sep-2010 10:58 pm - Whose are you? [ Iluq ] [onainat sjorl, vedette uthral]
Onainat decided, as she collected all of their belongings and began speaking with the distraught innkeeper, that they would have to travel to what-was-Clhen on legs instead of wing. There was wide-spread violence in the country and whispered word of men using dragon scales in the Free Cities. Onainat did not know what to make of that, but she wasn't going to take a risk. Not when Iluq was traveling with her.

Preparing for a journey kept her hands busy and her mind nimble when everything in her life should have gone still. Onainat had to force Iluq to concentrate so that they could make sure her father's body could be carried without worrying for the smell, or that the fragile magic around his human skin would break too early. Danger would come for them if someone knew they were transporting a deceased dragon instead of what was once a respected bard. It felt cruel to speak of her father only as flesh to be preserved until burial. It felt unreal. Yet she managed to clean his face without her hands shaking too badly when the time came to secure his body to be moved. Most of Onainat's reserves were used in getting Iluq to use her magic, in all its cold wonder, to chill her father through to the bone.

She tried to say as little to Iluq as she could... )
11th-Sep-2010 11:19 pm - the becoming (vedette, onainat) [koe tidraq, onainat sjorl, vedette uthral]
The dreams were fitful.

Long after Onainat had gone to her own room, long after he'd exhausted his words, and long after Iluq's breathing had grown steady Koe had finally managed to find sleep. What he found while he was sleeping were images and memories he would just as soon forget. The road, after Taereme died. One lost soul after another. Ilyien's face, streaked with blood, weeping those drops of red onto the cracked earth. A child being eaten by some ravenous cannibal. Minaht's face taunting him with memories of what had been, and what would be once again. They were the dreams that always came with a glass of wine. Some drank to forget. Some drank for pure enjoyment. Koe did not think a day would come for the rest of his life when spirits would be enjoyable to him, for the images they conjured. For the damage they could do.

Dreams too often felt a weapon against the infirm mind. )
31st-Aug-2010 04:47 pm - hyacinth cross (koe, onainat) [koe tidraq, onainat sjorl, vedette uthral]
They said the Flying Gardens was one of the most beautiful sights in all of the Free Cities. She'd seen them the last time she was in Agethlea, though it seemed ages ago now. The city was in such a state of disarray now that Vedette thought it foolish to venture far from the inn they were temporarily staying at. Hyacinth Cross was a fine inn, run by an elderly couple which seemed to make everyone feel as though they were family. At the heart of the city itself it didn't seem to hold the same madness that the streets did. Nor did the innkeepers seem as troubled as the other residents of Agethlea. Perhaps it was just because they were happy to have someone staying here who could pay, or because they thought someone who looked like Vedette did would not appreciate anything but a gentle happiness from those whom she chose boarding from.

Vedette would have felt more comfortable if the pair were weeping nonstop rather than the seemingly forced niceties they projected outwardly. She thought of staying in the room she'd purchased and waiting for Koe there but the sounds of the City from her window drew her down into the common area. This place had smelled of flowers once. Long before this couple owned the place, and probably long after they did as well. But now the only smells which she could make out were fire and ash.

Some messanger of sorts had blustered in shouting about a fire. )
9th-Aug-2010 11:22 pm - A Little Song [ Koe ] [koe tidraq, onainat sjorl]
A full pack was strapped to Onainat's shoulders. She'd stuffed it with every item she could imagine needing -- from inks to candies to a skinning knife...which was kind of silly when she could eat meat just fine without cooking it. Onainat appreciated the weight of her items, though. They made her feel like she had direction. Purpose. At least until she got tired. She shifted the pack when she walked out onto Agethlea's streets alone. The evening light made the sky a deep turquoise, with dull reds and purples still sitting on the heels of the diving sunset. She looked upward as she moved slowly, the floppy hat sat on top of her head making it hard to see the beginnings of the stars. Onainat did not feel eagerness to leave friends. The entrance of the cool night air did not help. Only the presence of persistent (and brave) street vendors spurred her forward; the smell of spiced meats from around the corner was made to be a small treat in her mind. To get her on her way.

Her eyes were straying to the sculpted roofs along the skyline, wondering if they would be worth sketching, when she heard a familiar tune. Onainat was a collector of songs more than she was a bard and should have nown the tune, but something was not right with it. What was not right? She found herself searching the emptying streets for the stringed instrument responsible. The tempo was too slow to match the right words to; the meter was distorted beyond artistic license. Onainat let out a small huff of annoyance. It was a purposeful, sad rendition of something upbeat. Something she knew from the eastern highlands. The Flower of Sweet Strabane.

The name came to her when she was ten steps behind him. He was leaning against the pole of a fruit stand, his back toward her, strumming his guitar on the street as if his instrument were the hollowed pots of the poor. Her father seemed to be thoughtfully bored. His presence here should have shocked her more. Yet it was like waking in the middle of the night and finding that he'd come home from the village, only to sit on the porch alone. There were some things that did not change and her father's profile was one of them. He looked the same in her child eyes as he did right now, and even though she knew that too much had happened for him to be the same person, it was so easy to believe. It was easier to remember.

Onainat walked up and tapped his shoulder. Then pulled down the edge of her hat.

"You shouldn't play such a happy tune that way. No one will give you any shinies."
25th-Jul-2010 12:57 pm - the ash grove (onainat) [chosen, onainat sjorl, skandra tyullis]
The door closed behind him.

For a moment Skandra was left staring at the punctured, ruined wall before him. Holes revealed the support beams that held all of this up around him. Nonsense was comparing it to what he'd seen now, a glimpse of how a chosen being of the gods really worked. There was no grand tale to show you the way. Show you the light. He kept waiting for it to appear, that circle of golden promise, to give him an answer he could understand. They were set on their course now. He accepted what he was without asking questions, without asking... why any of this should be happening in the first place. Because there was no one to ask, and no reason to think that the answers would make any sense at all.

That left him going on. )
6th-Jul-2010 11:54 am - the fate of friends (onainat, leironuoth) [aeotha easaahae, chosen, leironuoth, onainat sjorl]
It was always a surprise when she laid her hands on Leir. A shock to the senses, she felt like she could have told him everything and he would have understood, she felt as if her lives had always revolved around his, but that wasn't true. Those were memories that were not her own and never would be her own. She knew Leir only in the smallest of ways and she could not understand him, nor would he understand her. The next thought was always that he looked too much like his father and it caused a deep sadness to well up inside of her. How many times had she almost whispered his name? Eibhear was gone, he was not coming back. Leir was not his father, and in her mind he could never be better than Eibhear.. Just different from him. Great in his own way but not in her heart. She was different from Leir. They were not friends. Simply companions of fate and destiny.. She would not tell him that though.

He simply would not understand. )
25th-May-2010 03:35 pm - many from one (aeotha, leironuoth, onainat) [aeotha easaahae, chosen, elemmírë, leironuoth, onainat sjorl, skandra tyullis]
For a moment, he didn't think such a thing was possible.

In the aftermath of... whatever the hell it was that had happened here, this section of the city remained deserted. Early one morning he'd heard shouting, and the rattle of armor, but it turned out to have not a thing to do with Skandra Tyullis or the ones who were with him. Which was a lucky thing, considering that Elemmire slept more often than she awoke - and that was usually just to treat herself to a gulp of water. They were not running out of time. They had already run out. Tomorrow was the day. Skandra had not quite framed it in these terms for the stalwart companions that were tolerating his bossy, churlish ways - but tomorrow either Elemmire was going to die, or they were. All other options had been eliminated by now. He couldn't imagine what sort of things were happening in her mind. Or what sorts of images she was seeing in the darkness of her eyelids.

Probably better if he didn't. )
31st-Mar-2010 10:52 pm - no such thing as fate (elemmire, aeotha, leironuoth, onainat) [aeotha easaahae, chosen, elemmírë, leironuoth, onainat sjorl, skandra tyullis]
At first there'd been no talking. Only a bit of sleep for souls that were exhausted, despite the restorative effects of ... what he'd done. Skandra couldn't imagine sleeping after something like that, but his mind settled easily into the rhythm of rest. Hat brim pulled over his eyes, mouth slightly open, the Immortal had begun snoring in earnest. Of course no one complained that he was keeping them awake. That he remembered. If they had, their words were lost in that oblivion reserved for those who were doing something vastly more important than conversing with shrews who complained about snoring - namely, sleeping. But the sleep he found was not the sleep he wanted. Or even the sleep that he needed. Instead his throat was dry, but he took a drink, and the water plunged him into a sea of madness as before. Time that had no meaning. Voices he did not know, arguing about something he did not understand. The visions he saw along with those voices were half-formed and strange. A great hand, the size of a building, covered in runes and symbols of ancient times long forgotten. The hand made a fist. The voice belonged to it. And Skandra drew his sword at its coming.

It made no sense. )
16th-Feb-2010 02:54 pm - throw down (leironuoth, aeotha, onainat, elemmire) [aeotha easaahae, chosen, elemmírë, leironuoth, onainat sjorl, skandra tyullis]
For a moment Skandra did not realize he was seeing the world in white outlines and black star-drinking shapes. Not until a void that was shaped like a former compatriot was whispering about exhaustion to him. Not until his eyes were drifting skyward, and he was scratching a day's worth of stubble with a bloody wounded hand. You bet everything, and if you lost, you doubled up to make back your losses. That was how it was supposed to work. In reality sooner or later you would lose it all - because nobody had an infinite bankroll. He was starting to feel some of that loss now, starting to wonder if it would be worth it to keep going. Another bet, twice what he'd lost, might save the day. Might ruin him. There wasn't enough time to search for answers. From the corner of his eyes he saw two white shapes clinging to each other, filled with the void, light-less and bland as they shouted incoherently. One staggering step forward. Two. Heat was in his boots, on his legs, but he could not make himself pay attention to the heat just yet. There would come a time. The time was not now. Not yet.

They still had so far to go. )
23rd-Dec-2009 09:01 pm - martingale (aeotha, leironuoth, onainat, elemmire) [aeotha easaahae, chosen, elemmírë, leironuoth, onainat sjorl, skandra tyullis]
Skandra was beginning to regret some things.

Onainat, who'd insisted that she was the perfect person to drive their wagon, was going entirely too fast. She seemed possessed of a madcap glee that he'd not seen in her in quite some time. Skandra didn't like telling people they were insane but he was starting to think they needed to have a conversation. Hanging onto the side rail for all that he was worth, and picturing his death beneath an overturning carriage and ten tons of horseflesh, was more than he was capable of just then. Instead his eyes snapped back, over his shoulder, to the distant rumble he heard from the rear. Whatever it was, it was probably unrelated to them. Probably someone causing another, wholly unrelated ruckus in the city? He never paid attention, but he thought they might have been demolishing one of the old court buildings today. The skyline looked different. He kept looking back until he thought it would make him sick, and then he turned his eyes to the front once more. Onainat was urging people to get out of the way by shouting haphazardly at them. And he was starting to suspect that she'd never done this before.

Then again, neither had he, if... )
8th-Dec-2009 09:21 pm - war of the fallen star (aeotha, leironuoth, onainat, elemmire) [aeotha easaahae, chosen, elemmírë, leironuoth, onainat sjorl, skandra tyullis]
"You're a legend in your own mind," the fellow sneered.

"Then you shouldn't have a problem calling it," Skandra answered his sneer with a more powerful edition.

The brown-coat's face lifted. "Heads."

At the first ring of silver on stone, Skandra lifted the crossbow he was clutching like driftwood at sea and shot his opponent in the stomach. With a single high-pitched squeal the man's soul picked up its feet and fled into the afterlife.

"Well that was womanish," Skandra informed him.

Somehow they'd stumbled into chaos. )
5th-Nov-2009 11:16 am - bargains with faceless gods (aeotha) [aeotha easaahae, chosen, onainat sjorl, skandra tyullis]
Thunder.

There was nothing on the horizon that might give way to thunder, of course. They were free of storms. All told it was a pleasantly cool evening in a city that seemed to be in desperate need of them. No, the thunder was his boots, slapping into the ground at an alarming rate, thundering over cobbled stone and back alleys as he ran. Even after emerging from the underground he did not stop. Even after he was blocks away from the auction center, he did not stop. There were White Riders roaming the streets - but none stopped to talk to a man who was running before they were aware of him. Aeotha was running, somewhere along behind, but she was hampered by skirts and a staff. All the same, with those handicaps she was not too far behind. He could hear her feet slapping in counterpoint to his own. Lightning to his thunder. Skandra only knew where he was going when he got there, and that was some time after leaving the gala event in the first place.

Home. )
20th-Oct-2009 10:11 pm - all these desires and more (leironuoth, elemmire, onainat) [chosen, elemmírë, leironuoth, onainat sjorl]
This was where he belonged.

Uathis was not a man of complicated tastes. Those around him thought of him this way because of the appearance he created, because of the lie that was his every step and thought and action. In reality that was a show - for those he allied himself with, and those he allied himself against. You could stretch illusions for a long time if you were keen enough to do it. This Elemmire - he knew her by another name, but he doubt the idiot with his basket hilt knew anything about that - kept a great many secrets it seemed. Last remnant of a cursed mountain home. Twice cursed, for the life she should not have led, and yet here she was. Uathis didn't think she knew that he knew - but it was hard not to stare dangerously at someone when you were used to staring dangerously at someone. That he was even here was a testament to the utter stupidity of Skandra Tyullis, his comrade Leironuoth - not the real one of course - and this pair of she-witches that trailed along behind them.

Women should not know magic. )
26th-Jul-2009 10:12 pm - Ink [ narrative ] [onainat sjorl]
Armor piled neatly at the edge of the cliff was the only hint that she had returned. Onainat did not know where she had gone nor for what, but now her mother sat on the rocks with nothing to cover her skin. Her dark hair was whipping violently against her back as the storm rolled in off the water, flashing furiously above their heads and shaking the moss as if it had the right. Onainat could see her mother's shoulders shaking too, but the closer she got the less the tremors became until she was at her side. Between the rain and the wind, nothing was on the sharp planes of her mother's face. Nothing at all in her eyes, beside the reflections of the lightning. Onainat wondered at the seeming emptiness when too much seemed to boil beneath her mother's pale skin.

"Have I told you," Minaht said. "How much I love this world?"

Onainat opened her mouth to speak, but could find no words. Minaht reached for her hand. Blue ink smeared over her fingers and Onainat realized the thin thing her mother had put into her palm so urgently. It felt like a flute at first, which was strange because Minaht would never carry one. She hated the flute.

"Draw me a map, Onainat. Draw it for me."

"But..."

"Your father plays music, I find storms...you, Onainat. You draw maps. So you will do that, won't you? You will love like I have."

Water dripped from her bangs. Thunder rattled in her lungs. Onainat looked down at the white pen, made of the ivory bone and feather of some bird she didn't recognize. She heard sobbing and looked up, but her mother's face was smooth as her wet skin.

"Yes. Yes I'll..."

"Have I told you, how much I love this world?"

Onainat held the pen to her chest, confused. "You just said--"

"I...loved this world. Loved," Minaht corrected in a whisper. She looked at Onainat, stood from the rock she sat on and reached out her hand. Her fingers traced over the trapped pen. She pulled it away from Onainat, covering her daughter's hand with her own, and pressed the pen back toward Onainat's chest, pressing the point into the center. "I loved you too."

There was a sharp pain in the center of her body. Onainat looked down at the pen, which stuck out of her chest and then back to Minaht. Her mother stood there watching. Blood bloomed in the rain, spreading along Onainat's tunic. She took her free hand and pressed it into the blood. Blood slipped along her skin in the water, forming lines and borders and rivers and valleys. It seemed so strange. She had always used parchment before.

"You need more ink. You can't draw a map without the right amount of ink," Minaht said. "You always had the most when you traveled with that man. The man with the wide-brimmed hat."

"I don't understand," Onainat said, breathless from the pain. The pain of the pen. The pain of seeing her mother again. She felt Minaht's lips on her forehead and felt her eyes burn. "I don't want this any more. Take it back, please."

"I loved this world."

"Stop," Onainat choked out. Her fingers were too slippery. They couldn't pull out the pen. "Stop saying that. Take it back. Take it back!"

I loved you too... )
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