Wasted Years

Log Info

• Title: Wasted Years

• Emitter: Auranar

• Characters: Auranar, Ravenstongue, Telamon, Verna

• Place: Grandfather's house, Quelynos

Grandfather's house is exactly what Auranar needs. The house she shared-shares with Verna is an empty shell right now. She needs to collect Hunter and build a fire. Open the windows, and bake some bread. Maybe gray tea cookies and a pot of lavender-mint tea to go with it. All these plans settle into the back of her mind even as she sits on the couch beside Verna.

There's a space between them and she doesn't know how to breach it even though they're holding hands. She's been forgiven but she still feels the burden of guilt. There's questions in her heart, but she can't ask them with Verna... But she can't leave Verna alone either. Everything feels distinctly off and she's left holding a hand that has aged so much that it's soft in her own where just a short time ago it had been strong.

Even if they somehow... somehow... somehow... It's a glimpse into her future that feels like needles in her throat. She should be baking. Making a nice treat for her wife, but she can't move away to do it. Can't leave Verna alone for a moment. Not one second. She hasn't even slept since they rescued Verna, and her brain feels like it has live fire ants inside it.

The tree-home that Alud'rigan, the Feathered One, calls home has been given a rare audience of just Auranar and Verna, and when Grandfather (as he likes for Auranar and Verna to call him) entered, he'd immediately arranged for two chairs to sit by the fireplace in front of his rocking chair--that ancient structure with hundreds of scrawlings, carvings, and other graffiti laid there by children who are now buried in the memorial garden. He'd also excused himself to attend to the remainder of his 'date'--which he'd been a bit cryptic about--but returned just a short time later, sporting a grin as he excused himself to his bedroom to change. Then he disappeared again into the kitchen to work on something for the two women.

Finally, he reappears with a tray of tea cups, freshly poured with lavender-mint tea, and a large salad bowl of freshly-cut and dressed salad, made from vegetables in his yard. The dressing appears to be some sort of lightly spiced cream sauce that's light and delicate on the salad. Two sets of smaller bowls and cutlery seem to suggest that Verna and Auranar are meant to split the salad between themselves. "I apologize, my dears," Alud'rigan says softly. "Had I known you'd be coming to visit earlier in the day, you'd have arrived to a feast. I'll be setting about making something more filling for dinner. Any preferences? Shepherd's pie, perhaps?"

The hand, along with the rest of Verna has changed, indeed. A superficial change, for the most part, but it is obvious that recent events have altered things to some degree beyond mere appearances. Auranar's hand in hers, and vice-versa, is at least one aspect that has remained constant, however. She believes there are many more; perhaps more the unchanged than not. Determining that may be a process, however.

"Would you care for some tea, love? Cor'lana?" Verna gives Auranar's hand a pat her her free one. She may be guest rather than hostess, but she offers all the same. Yet Grandfather was a step or three ahead of her, now made apparent by his emergence.

"You are most kind, Grandfather, as ever. This will suffice for the moment." She reaches to claim one of the cups rather briskly, then slows mid-reach and in the retrieval. It would not due to drop or spill anything.

Someone is talking. It takes a long moment for this fact to register to Auranar and she realizes distantly that it shouldn't be so difficult to pull herself to the moment and hear what's being said. By the time that she catches up with the fact that someone - Grandfather - is talking, she has missed everything but the last word. "Pie?" She nods absently, her eyes registering the food that seems to have appeared by magic and her stomach roils. She's glad it's nothing with meat. She feels sick looking just at vegetables.

"A pie would be nice right Verna?" She asks the words, and they feel hollow. She pats her wife's hand. "I can make us a nice pie." She really should, but she doesn't stand up.

She looks at the other woman when she talks. "Tea? Yes. You should have some tea." She watches Verna reach for it, and the mention of Cor'lana confuses her. Cor'lana isn't here. She's gone. Home. There's sand in her eyes and her free hand rubs at them. She doesn't reach for tea for herself.

It's a long moment where Grandfather looks at Verna and Auranar both, seeming to study the two women. "We could make it together, Auranar," he suggests. "However and whatever you'd like to do, it shall be done. This house is, for the moment and always, your home, too. You both have every right to come here whenever you'd like."

Here he smiles softly. "May I do anything for the two of you? Do you require any blankets or anything of the sort?" Here he points to a blanket that's draped across his rocking chair. It looks a little frayed, and it's also been obviously patched over the years, too. Who knows how old it is. "Or pillows. I have plenty of things holed up around here; the place is bigger than you might think. Of course, Auranar knows that already." He's shown her how there's rooms besides what she sees here--odd little pockets that can only be explained by 'it is Quelynos, and the whole place is magic'.

Verna gets the cup retrieved and settles it upon her lap to steady it. Her focus returns to Auranar for long moments until Grandfather comments. "Making a pie is a wondrous idea. With the three of us, it would take little time at all. The tea will keep until it is in the oven, at the least."

To that end, (and after a light squeeze), she releases Auranar's hand. Both are used to carefully return the teacup to the platter before she looks to Grandfather. "A blanket might be prudent for later," she is perhaps the only one who has not spent enough time in this portion of Quelynos to be experienced with changes in weather. "Aprons would be appropriate if we are to bake." She shifts on the couch to rise, though does not stand immediately.

Another door to Ea opens outside Grandfather's house, bringing with it a pair of familiar half-elves. Telamon and Cor'lana, garbed in adventuring gear and looking tired from the last day or so. The fatigue is graven into Telamon's face, but his eyes glimmer like starry skies, as he says to the birds he knows are watching and listening, "Tell Grandfather we're here, and everyone's safe."

With that, he approaches the door, reaching out to politely knock. He knows better than to simply burst in. That would be rude, and annoy Grandfather. His other hand holding Lana's, he smiles at her reassuringly. "Been a while since we've had to do that kind of work."

Cor'lana smiles brightly at Telamon, even though the exhaustion is worn into her face, too. "It has been," she says. "And here I thought most of our... construction work would be limited to Leca'fi Amdamu."

There's one bird outside the house who acknowledges Telamon's words, staring at him with odd violet eyes (not that there's anything normal about the odd half-owl, half-corvid birds that are Grandfather's flock) before it responds back, in a surprisingly deep tone, "Merp." Then it takes flight and lands right outside of one of the windows into the tree-house. "MERP."

Apparently that merp is code for something, as Grandfather simply nods a little. "All is well," he announces. "Cor'lana and Telamon have returned from leveling the fortress, and Telamon has reported all is well." Then, with a wave, the door to the tree-house opens, and Alud'rigan calls, "Come in, you two."

Cor'lana nods, leading in Telamon into the tree-house. She's happy to see Verna and Auranar are by the fireplace, and of course her eyes stray on Grandfather's rocking chair, currently unoccupied. "Hey," she says softly to Auranar and Verna. "We came back as soon as we could. Didn't want to leave you two here for terribly long."

Auranar feels Verna's hand leave hers and it's like being cut utterly adrift. Her mind, so completely focused on her wife is without its mooring. She rubs absently at her eyes. There's something important about pie, but it feels so unimportant. Like the bubbling in her stomach. Like... everything.

Grandfather welcomes two people into the house, and she can't even muster the energy to welcome Cor'lana and Telamon. Not even a wave. No smile. "We're fine." She's not even sure what she's responding to. The tea is set down and the gentle clink is so familiar. She whispers something, and she's not even sure what words are coming out of her. "We're fine."

"It is good to see you both," Verna greets Lana and Telamon, putting her hands next to herself on the couch and preparing to push herself towards upright. Her wife's subsequent lack of energy and action cause her to reconsider; lift-off is aborted. Instead, Verna reaches hands for Auranar as she turns towards her; one for her hand, one for her shoulder. She regards Auranar for a long moment, eyes seeking and searching. "Aura?"

Once the door shuts behind them, Telamon's shoulders slump from weariness. "That was... something of a workout, from an arcane perspective. But everyone's out and away -- our friends and the slaves we rescued." His eyes regard Auranar, before moving to Verna. "It's been a busy few days."

He offers a gentle smile, peeling off to walk over and sit down next to Verna. "How are you feeling?" He doesn't stop Verna from reaching for Auranar; that would be stupid. But he does examine Verna with a careful, analytical eye.

GAME: Ravenstongue rolls Perform/Sing: (6)+16: 22

Something passes between Telamon and Cor'lana in the silent sense, and Cor'lana goes to Auranar, taking up one of Auranar's hands in her own. She smiles in that knowing way at Auranar, like she's done since they decided they were sisters--a decision made into blood through the mutual marks of blood pact that they wear on their chests. "Hey, Rana," she says. "I'm here. It's me."

She pauses only a second before she sings softly. It's hard to sing well in such a muted volume, but it'd be rude to lean fully into bombastic singing. She's only partially trained; the singing has come to her less naturally compared to poetry. But sing she does:

"I'm walking now on the other side:

I dreamt of a thousand places

Where roses bloom in gray faces

And where the shadows fade." <Sylvan>

It's part of a lullaby, one that Grandfather had taught to her at one point, and one she knows Auranar would know in turn. Cor'lana looks up hopefully at Grandfather.

He looks bashful himself, but he opens his mouth... And he sings it in refrain. His voice is absolutely lovely in lowness, tear-rendering in the way that one might not expect. He looks around the group, prompting the others to try the song themselves.

The contact reattunes Auranar to Verna and the worry on her face concerns Auranar greatly. She just... can't think of any reason that Verna would be unhappy. "It's okay." Her fingers lift to touch the hand on her shoulder, the other curling around Verna's hand. Whole hand. Both hands are whole. As they should be. (There's no box, no gruesome gift.) "We're fine."

It feels like a lie.

Yet Telamon's questioning gaze pulls her further into concern for Verna, and she looks at the other woman earnestly. "Yes, how are you my love? Are you cold? Hungry? There's tea." There's always tea. It's the only thing she's really certain of.

Cor'lana joins her and she tries to smile but it feels like her face doesn't move at all. Everything is muted. Then there's singing and she it's like the key to a lock and for better or worse Auranar is utterly in tears. Clinging to her sister and to her wife and sobbing her heart out like broken and it'll never be fixed.

(She cries for herself, for all these sleepless nights trying to find and prepare to rescue Verna. Holding a finger close to her heart because it's the only thing left she has. She cries mostly for Verna though, the unbelievable loss of the days until this moment and the horrible cruelty of those meant to love you. The days that are years written on Verna's face that she can't replace. She cries because even if they fix it this is what is waiting for her. She will always lose Verna, and she can't live without her. She's not strong like Grandfather is. She can't bear it up. The horrible cruelty of the universe for giving the woman she loves a body that won't last long enough. Not nearly long enough. Because they'll never grow old together.)

To Telamon's scrutiny, Verna is well... enough. All issues that magic, rest, and perhaps some food could cure were previously resolved. Those are not the only issues present, of course.

The concern in her features is not removed by Auranar's hollow assurances, and a question begins to form on her lips. One that is lost as her wife begins to weep. She does not try to pull her from her sister , but neither does she want to release her. Thus she just leans with, applying a presence upon the side not pressed against Cor'lana. "We are here, together," she affirms softly. "That is what is most important." They are not 'fine,' but 'that they are together here and now is the one certainty of which she can assure Auranar.

Cor'lana allows Auranar to hold onto her, and she continues to sing that precious refrain, that loving and warm refrain. Her own eyes are sparkling with tears, but there's nothing but compassion in her voice for her sister, her beloved sister. It's a hard road they've gone through together, but Auranar's road is the hardest. Lana knows it well. She rescued Telamon once. Telamon's rescued her. They've withstood the Corpse-Eater together as a family.

"You're my brave, bold, beautiful, and wonderful sister," Cor'lana says softly as she finishes another repetition of her refrain. "It's okay. Shed your tears. It's been a lot, hasn't it? It still is a lot. But you're safe here. We are safe here."

Grandfather steps in closer behind Auranar's seat, gently placing those clawed hands of his on Auranar's shoulders as he looms in over her. He's so tall compared to her, Verna, and Auranar--and taller still than Telamon. Most people would look at him and believe that he was about to do grievous harm to Auranar--but that's not the case. His hands are gentle in their touch, loving in their embrace. "I am here, beloved rose," he says softly. "You know I will always be here." Even though he'd stared death in the face, he fought for her, for Verna, and he won with Auranar's quick aid.

Auranar is not easily calmed, but they - her family - does an apt job of it. She cries herself out, and finally nods. "I know. I know. I'm sorry." She's sorry for so much that crying a little seems so silly to be sorry for. She takes several deep breaths and nods. "I appreciate you all so much. I just..."

What is she going to do? Where do they go from here?

She chases the tears from her face. "I'm just a little tired." She's not a good liar. She's not very practiced at it. "Look." She motions to the tea. "Grandfather made tea." It's a terrible effort at distraction.

GAME: Telamon rolls detectBS: aliased to sense motive: (8)+29: 37
GAME: Auranar rolls Bluff: (18)+5: 23

"Perhaps you should rest," Verna advises the obvious softly, though stops short of correcting the other obvious point of how not little tired Auranar appears. "There is nothing for which you should apologize, love." Her mouth opens again as she considers further words, but closes when she does not find acceptable options. She knows their shared concern and cannot deny it. Also, any other assurance in improving tends to have the caveat 'in time.' In this instance that is anything BUT calming.

Once Telamon's examination of Verna is complete, he offers her a smile. "This isn't normal, therefore it can be reversed," he says calmly. "I will make inquiries." Four words that are downright unnerving in their implications. He continues, "I can do nothing less for my sisters."

His gaze then shifts to Auranar, watching her for long moments. Then he reaches out to Auranar, taking her hand (or just resting his hand on her arm). "Aura," he says softly. "You once came to me asking for instruction. Will you permit me to offer another lesson to you? It's important, and while I can't make everything better... maybe I can help you be stronger in the face of things."

Auranar shakes her head at Verna's suggestion. "I couldn't sleep now. You've only just returned." She can't miss a minute. Not a second. Everything feels like it's reaching her through gravel, but everyone is trying so hard to reach her. Maybe she's smiling now, or maybe her face is still unmoving, but she's trying so hard. "Of course Telamon. You know I appreciate your wisdom. You've helped all of us so many times."

Verna glances to Telamon at his evalutation. Her eyes meet his, but she does not voice any opinions or theories regarding treatments. Instead, her gaze turns grateful only after his offer of lesson to Auranar. It is fairly clear where Verna's priorities lie. Her focus returns to Auranar while deferring to Telamon to offer his lesson.

Telamon takes a deep breath, his mind focusing. Settling himself there, in the circle of his family. "Auranar, when I was sixteen years old, my father and mother sat down with me, and... laid upon me the hard truth they both knew. Father will outlive mother, even were he an old elf."

He takes Auranar's hand in his. "There is no remedy for this, but I will tell you what my mother told me: that she would have regretted it for the rest of her life, if she had not loved him. We are only here for a time in the light, before we depart to the Halls; some of us longer, some of us shorter. What matters is the love. That is what makes life worth living -- so make every moment count."

He gazes into Aura's eyes. "I know what haunts you. But I beg of you, as your brother, your friend, to not let it poison you. Because you deserve the love -- and so does Verna."

Grandfather gives Auranar's shoulders a little squeeze, nodding to Telamon's sentiment. "I have seen many generations of your ancestors go by," he says to Auranar. And while Auranar might not have been born of Grandfather's blood, he is referring to the fact that Auranar is of his blood, and that just about everyone here has shed blood for each other and spilled blood for each other--a web of sanguine threads that make them family beyond the bonds, vows, and oaths sworn to each other. "So many are buried in the garden. I loved Lana'lel then... And I love another now who will be deceased before I ever will be. I stared down that blade knowing it could be my end, because it is our duty as the long-lived ones to remember. It is our place to be fortunate enough to put names to faces and faces to names, to account for the love they put into our hearts."

He smiles softly. "Verna is not gone yet, my love," Grandfather reminds. "I know it is unsettling. I know it is unkind. But look at her and admire her beauty now, with all her wrinkles. My kind, they're almost scared of me because I wear a face that is not of forever-youthful beauty. I, however--have always found that is the greatest beauty of mortals. Like flowers, they grow and then they wilt, and the petal is as lovely in its gentle drift from the stem into soft fall as it is in full bloom."

Cor'lana nods heavily to the sentiment, although she looks a bit curious about who Alud'rigan might have fallen for that she doesn't know about. "Grandfather's right," she says, choosing not to address it. "Telamon and I will grow old one day... And I know it's not the same, Rana, but I look forward to seeing how his face wrinkles." Here she can't help but chuckle. "His hair's already almost silver, though."

"I just..." Auranar reaches for her wife, and she knows the petty truth of her heart. She was supposed to have time to prepare for this inevitability. Now that time is gone. Stolen. But she was never going to be ready. Never. "I love you so much."

She doesn't care about the wrinkles and lines. It's still Verna. The woman she loves. Everyone is right of course, and she's simply foolish and tired. "I'm tired my love, so tired, but I'm afraid to sleep and miss any second with you. I can't stand the thought of missing anything else." She embraces Verna again. "Please sleep with me. I'm so tired." So very, very tired.

There may still be concern present, but it fades from Verna's eyes with Auranar's admission and embrace. She clutches her snugly. "And I you. Forever more." It is another certainty she can truthfully claim. "Of course. You shall not miss a second." She closes her eyes, in attempt to keep back tears she witheld before for Auranar's benefit. "We can dream of one another and so share that time as well."

"That's what both of you need." Telamon's voice is firm. "I'm pretty sure Grandfather has a room here for you two to curl up in. He's done as much for Lana and I from time to time." His eyes twinkle brightly. "I think putting the crib in our room was a bit too blatant though."

Tel takes Lana's hand, squeezing it gently. "Grandfather, there's a couple things I'd like to ask you about. I presume we're not likely to see Varyssa any time soon, for starters?" His smirk is downright obnoxious. "Not that I'm eager to, mind you, but I'd just like to make sure."

Cor'lana draws back to give Auranar and Verna their space, grinning at Telamon as she draws closer to him. "Eventually there'll be someone to put in that crib that isn't Pothy," she says. Yes, that crib is where Pothy sleeps when Lana and Telamon stay the night. He gets to occasionally be the baby. Even if he might be older than Grandfather himself. (Jury's still out on that one.) "Sleep--and more importantly, rest--is good."

Grandfather draws his claws away (carefully now, nobody's getting nicked on accident) from Auranar to let her and Verna have their moment. "Her Majesty... is both forgetful of mortal limits, and also not one to let go of her toys so easily," he says with a slight shudder. "I never let my wife anywhere near Her Majesty for a reason. Especially where Her Majesty can be... the jealous type."

He coughs a little. "That being said... There is a justice in Varyssa being Her Majesty's property. Poetry, as it does so often in Quelynos, wins the day."

Auranar finally rises to her feet. "Good riddance to her. If she ever finds her way free... I will happily remind her where we left off." She wraps her arm around Verna and pulls the other woman slowly (and carefully) toward one of the rooms. "I have my own room, assuming that Grandfather hasn't lost it somehow." She offers this tiredly, but with warmth.

"Thank you," Verna offers to Telamon, Cor'lana, and, yes, even Grandfather. Two simple words that carry a great deal more content behind them than their syllables. She does not shirk Auranar's renewed embrace and help, regardless of whether she needs it (Auranar can tell she is pulling most of Verna's weight up, though). No thought is spared for Varyssa, and certainly no breath for words as she is escorted toward Auranar's room. As they move, a thought strikes, "Later, perhaps, we can bake that pie..."