Koe Tidraq (discant) wrote in adusta, @ 2008-06-17 01:00:00 |
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Entry tags: | koe tidraq, onainat sjorl, origins |
silence endures (onainat)
When the fire crackled it seemed to whisper to him. A musician heard a song in every sound, no matter how callous and harsh the sound. If music was the collection of sounds to express something - an idea, a thought or an emotion - than even the most terrible of sounds had a place in the pantheon of performance. Even the most wretched terrible things could be made beautiful if they were molded by the right hands. Koe had no such illusions about his own hands, but he had an ear for the sounds which gave lie to the state of things. A fire was a destructive force, but it could be the bringer of life as well. A snore could be a breath gone wrong or a true sign of sleep. In Ilyien's case it was the latter. And in the case of Onainat, who was a tricksome creature at the core of her being, it was the former. Still he didn't look up from his work. Cleaning each and every opening atop his ocarina was proving to be more trouble than he was used to. At least, on the road. He didn't want to miss anything. And he didn't want to let Onainat know that he was watching.
There had been times when she was a child that he thought they would never be separated. Minaht had been more interested in crusades than in raising a child, and if Koe had no taste for them it was because he had seen what a country in upheaval could do to those who looked to a crown or a throne for protection. Times of great change were not kind to those who endured the worst of it. And anyway he didn't thrive on such things. His desire to see the world existed in a different place from Onainat's. And her mother's desire was somewhere far, far gone from both of them. The distance Minaht had created between father and daughter with her stupidity was very real. Very real, and very heartbreaking for a father who was used to being worshiped. Who actually had been worshiped once. Ending and beginning her world with a nod was not what he wanted, but at the same time he couldn't imagine a life without having some sort of...
Now he sounded like he was about to weep.
Ilyien's snore rose in pitch, in intensity, until Koe honestly began to fear that his phoenix friend was going to blow all of them into oblivion. Koe just continued working away at his ocarina. They were on their way to who-knew-where, after a night in which a city of elves had been sacked and he had killed again to save his daughter's life. That wasn't what he wanted, either. And now his mind was all over the map. Finding the center of it all was difficult when he didn't know where that center had been. Growing comfortable with it, accustomed to it, never having to question its existence. Here he was questioning it. Unaccustomed to the silence that seemed to swarm over him and crush him like a wave of implacable water. If he were to kill it ought to be in defense of his child, whom he loved so much. He just had to wonder, in the dark moments when he thought back to his grandfather and the nation they had destroyed together, if it was the start of a road he couldn't turn back from.
Minaht should have been there to answer that question for him.
Should have been there to cradle his head, and tell him everything was going to be fine.
Instead he had his daughter's silent wakefulness and Ilyien's wretched snore. He was going to write a sequel, Koe was, to Swordsman of the North. This time memorializing the dragon which the Swordsman had managed to dispatch using only the power of his snore. Stuffing wool into the ears wouldn't do any good. He'd miss the march of spring and the crackling fire. Onainat was just staring off into the distance now, or pretending that either of them knew the other was awake. Koe was afraid this was the new status quo, the way they were going to adjust to one another after so much time apart. Finally he put the ocarina to his lips and blew against it. A pure sound came out, beautiful and untouched. Just one. And then he shoved the ocarina back into place on his belt. As though he was about to pass judgment the phoenix rolled over in his sleep with lips parted.
A great rushing bellow of a snore emerged.
"You have no taste," Koe informed him with a smile.
As a parent, you were supposed to know things that your child did not. You were supposed to be able to reassure them no matter what the circumstances. How did he reassure her? Koe had told her once to go out looking for her sense of adventure, her sense of wonder, and that she couldn't find it with him. All that time he'd been afraid that if he tried to help her and failed he would do worse than Onainat had ever endured at the hands of her mother. Fear of failure sent her away the second time, and fear of success sent her away the first. So what was he supposed to do now? He didn't have all the answers. His wife would have known - in his heart, she was still his wife, even if she was in his head a murderer and a violator of pacts - and said so with abandon. Instead Koe stared at a daughter that didn't know what to say and reached the same conclusion himself.
Nothing to say.