▰▱▰ WARNING! ▱▰▱
▰▱▰ SENSITIVE CONTENT ▰▱▰
Allusions of depression, gore, and suicide.
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“Have you ever felt for something, so deeply in your gut… That your heart ached and your soul shuddered in fury?”
“Something so crushingly upending. That your skull felt heavy with the weight of decision, and your body fell limp with helplessness?”
“When the spark within your heart is snuffed out.”
“That…”
“…Is what I call the death of hope.”
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The night is young. The skies are clear.
In a world both blessed by interesting lives and cursed by ancient relics, time marches onwards uncaring for the supplications of the mortal men.
In a world gifted with hope and haunted by despair, reality is suffused with meaning by those who wield it. May the souls of the lost find peace in eternal rest.
And therein… she.
Who is burdened with experience. Clouded by the turmoil of a million tragedies.
She, who wields reason and heart. Who legacies a cape of titanic magnitude…
–That nobody but she will ever remember–
…Weeps.
+ 。。。 +
“Why save me?...”
“Why help me?...”
“Why leave me?...”
The far away memories that slowly lose their color. Sharp as ever as they prick and pull the soul.
Love. Hate.
Gaze of a thousand miles, crushing. Smile as radiant as sunshine, blooming.
Loss. Gain.
A new dawn, bristling with wonder. Sunset tethers, blazing away.
Hope. Despair.
Guilty crown of abundance. Selfless heart of charity.
Take. Return.
Broken paradox. Dynamo of passion.
『 Heart eat Heart. 』
“Where are you?...”
“...Please.”
+ 。。。 +
And yet…
…Under the light of the night, protectors and nurturers, tethered and caring alike. Guide and cherish you unconditionally.
There is light, even for thee whose lone flame struggles in the dark.
Because you are not as lonely as you might think.
——— –– –– -- - -
。。。
“Oh-ho? Fancy seeing you here.” Clauren points to Gaviel.
He acknowledges Samyra with a nod, ignoring Clauren.
“Good afternoon, If I may speak with…” He pauses “...her. For a moment?” He asks, not paying attention to the face Clauren makes at him.
Samyra raises an eyebrow “...Sure?” She obliges as she pulls the wheelbarrow along with Clauren.
She is a little suspicious, Gaviel’s sudden and unexpected visit is strange to say the least, but she trusts him as she would trust anyone else in the village.
“Wait.” She pauses, there’s a nagging feeling that her intuition is pointing at. “Did you forget her name?”
“Erm—”
“On second thought, I do not recall you ever meeting her, not even once, since you brought her into the village, mister.” She jabs him in the chest with a finger. “You are not quite the model example of responsibility, appearing and leaving like that.”
“I...” Gaviel averts his eyes.
It is true, sadly, that he had gotten occupied and busy with other matters for quite a long time, though he honestly can’t say if he forgot about ‘the brat’, as he had come to call her in his head, or if he was avoiding her. For someone that had gotten so attached to the girl in the short time he had worked to keep her alive, he was feeling guilty for how easily he detached himself.
He had easily given the obligation to take care of the child as soon as he could, while he still felt some need to pick up the responsibility, for one, due to the nature of his profession that spends long stretches of time outside the village he wouldn’t be able to properly care and provide for her, and even if he did end up taking her in, he does not know how to properly handle children. These are the reasons he convinced himself with, but even after the fact, there was still something lingering, a guilty conscience.
Now that it was all said and done, with a couple that took her in and taught her what he couldn’t, he heard that the little girl he’d come to occasionally think about had already gotten proficient enough in their language to speak with other people, that had been a surprise for him, and now he came here to sort of redeem himself.
“Forgive me, I had been preoccupied with other matters that the Chief had tasked me with. And now I…” He had not put much thought about what to do after meeting her. “I would like to see how she is faring.”
She pauses, considering. “...A lot of things have happened since then, you know?” The girl, for that she seemed to have settled in, slowly at her own pace, still has yet to feel comfortable around them, truly open up to her. Samyra did what she could but well… she told herself that maybe these things take time. And wherever she came from, little Syuu, that’s what she began to call her, could do so at her own pace…
...Though she fears that pace is a little too slow. she sort of got mingled with the other children, and she has maybe one(?) friend, though that may be one-sided. That child hardly ever does anything that isn’t reading or sleeping, gods knows why that girl likes to hang around her so much.
They even named her, how it ended up happening is beyond her. There are rules and traditions that are usually followed that went completely and utterly disregarded, but this isn’t an usual situation is it? Samyra had thought. And besides, the girl seemed to accept it.
They all turn to Syuufarin, the little girl in question shrinks behind Clauren.
“I believe… yes.” The time that she has spent in the village is as long, if not longer, than what she spent with Gaviel. Enough time for the little bond that the two mushrooms —quiet and anti-social the both of them— built together to fade somewhat. And, while the little girl hadn’t explicitly said anything, they could tell that she missed him. “It would be for the best that you introduce yourselves anew.” Samyra tells him.
“...I— Yes.” Gaviel agrees before he can think straight.
“Ah…” Clauren looks back and forth between Syuufarin and Samyra “Well, we will leave you to it.” Clauren says.
“—But not for too long!” He adds. “We still want to finish with this!” He slaps the side of the altar carelessly, eyeing between Gaviel and the kid. He knew little about whatever Gaviel and the kid had between them, but now he was curious.
Very curious.
He gives a wide, cheshire smile.“You know what it is for… And hey! you can stay for a chat and tea later!”
“...Right.” Gaviel says in a flummoxed tone at the sudden invitation.
He and Clauren… They coexist, and better things could be said about their relationship. But one thing is that they are not close. So Clauren’s sudden change is… suspicious.
He narrows his eyes at him as he saunters away.
Samyra bows, and leaves the premises trailing behind Clauren.
——— –– –– -- - -
With them out of the picture, probably assembling the complex and fragile device inside. Gaviel took us some steps away to a more secluded area that isn’t the front door.
This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.
He stops, the silence is overbearing as he observes me with a glint in his eyes, though I can’t tell what he wants or what he is thinking.
I look at him.
“...”
He looks at me.
“...”
We look at each other.
““...””
While all of this happens, there’s a churning furnace of misaligned thoughts that boil and overflow inside my head…
‘I like that he is here. –I hate that we met.– I was so excited at first. What do I do? –I’m angry at him.– Why am I angry at him? –We took him for granted.– Granted on what? what? why? How?’
…And I don’t know what I should say.
“I’m glad that you are well.” He starts, calling my attention back to him. “And… I’m sorry, for relinquishing you so abruptly, I should have stayed, at least for some time, to help you get acclimated to our home…”
He continues, crouching down to my eye level. “...At the time, I was of the belief that was the most optimal course of action. I do not have the skills to care for you, much less teach you. Not in any way comparable to what other people in the village could be, so I had not fought the final say in the matters of your residency and who would be your guardian.” He fiddles with the straps that tighten his gloves around his forearms.
A moment passes. “Once…” He stands up. “A time ago, a man met a child, lost in the forest, who knew nothing about anything. She was battered and bloody, clingy like the worst of tree-beasts, and had no-sense of self-preservation... Some time ago, a little girl met a forest ranger, tired of a long day of traveling, who did not know anything about what had happened to his village, who went out to find answers, but instead, he found you.”
He looks me in the eyes. “However… despite finding each other, they had not met, not truly. They had only shallowly glimpsed what they could see of each other, for they did not know where they came from or where they were headed, as the man could not understand the child, and nor could the child understand the man.”
“Therefore…” In a quick, smooth motion, he clips his heels together, and bows with a hand over his heart. “Greetings, I am Gaviel of Daivette. Ranger vanguard and appointed master of arms. I am fond of bows and I loathe slugs.”
‘I’m confused. My feelings are… I don’t even know where to start.’ I look down at his feet, avoiding his eyes.
There’s elation… I’m so very happy to see him again. I wanted to do more than just speak, to talk, with him. I wanted to drown him in my gratitude, for finding me. I want to roll in joy that despite being a stranger, they have so easily accepted me into their home, though I’m still coming to terms with accepting their home as mine. I want to cry and hug and drag him down with me and question the world. Tear apart the sorrow and the loneliness that writhe under my skin.
There’s resentment... Why had he left, why? Why no rhyme or reason or explanation. Had I been just a burden you found laying around in the path you were, to be so suddenly discarded? In your eyes, had there even been any value to be found in me to save me then? Doubt and anxiety festered within me each time I thought of you.
There’s guilt… These people, this place, it’s so bright, so peaceful, so much more vibrant in ways the World That Once Was had never been to me. There’s a deep rooted sense of equivalent exchange in me. I receive this care, this love, I am provided for and am expected nothing in return. And yet I ask myself, “Why do this for me?”, “I’m not deserving of these things”, “I don’t have anything to give and even less skills to use, how could I ever repay these things?”, “What could possibly make me worth it?”. Even amongst them, a stranger yet I remain.
There’s agony... Sometimes a thought occurs to me, that it would have been better to leave me to perish and rot, for an unwilling, unbelonging soul to return to the cycle of life. The loss ran too deep, the despair sunk too far. Mayhaps, could the sweet release bring me back to them? After all, the first time had brought me here. Had made me into this. Sometimes I think I have finally accepted it, got over it, but then I look at myself and there’s a nauseating feeling of wrongness, and the memories of that place come rushing back…
…And it hurts.
It hurts so much—
—‘Breathe.’ I order myself.
I don't look him in the eyes. I notice that my throat is tight with tension, and my eyes water. ‘Why? Why am I so emotional?’ God knows. My hands tremble and this body shudders as I suppress a sob that rose up my neck. ‘I… I can't do this, but I have to start somewhere… A-and, I want to do this.’ I resolved myself.
And so, I bow.
I bow deep. “T-thank you…….for..s-saving me.” It is the first thing I say, in all the broken elvish that I can muster. My voice, wavering with the emotion I pour into it. “Thank you…..very..very much……Gaviel.”
“...” He is silent.
“.........And…m-my name…is……..” there’s a lingering ache, from saying this thing, this name that substitutes something that, despite it all, I still hold dear, and probably will never stop holding it close to my heart… But changing will never be easy.
I pause to think, take in the right syllables and the intonation to get it right.
“...My name is Syuufarin.”
An awkward pause passes by.
He smiles.
He pats me on the head. His heavy, gloved hand is warm.
“May the winds carry thy name, the earth bless our hearth, and the ancestral roots remember our passing.” Gaviel chants.
“...W-what?”
He crouches back down to my height. “Names are important, more important than you might think. On normal occasions, a proper naming ritual is made to name newborns, though it has fallen out of custom as of recently…” “but I hope that at least this will suffice.” He explains.
“It is nice to meet you, Syuufarin, I hope we get along.”
Maybe I cried, just a little, right there in front of him.
Through tears and cries we exalt that which we are. However they may come, they are echoes of our emotions, and it’s better for them to spring from joy than sorrow.
——— –– –– -- - -
By the time we headed back inside, the sun was setting.
‘We… talked… about things. Lots of things.
We talked about how we were doing, where we were going, what we would be doing, what is this and that, and many other things. I asked about him, he asked about me, and we just…
Talked.
It was nice… if a bit teary on my part. I’m not— All of this pent up stuff that I have, that I know that I have…’
—’Your heart thrums, it is filled with determination’—
‘…I’m not made for this sort of thing. I don’t think I had ever felt like this, or done things like this ever in my whole life. —My whole other life— Maybe once or twice when I was little, when the world was big and scary. But never have I experienced such… drowning emotions.
Even now, after shedding a layer of the sticky feelings that clung to me, I still feel… sore.’
Sore in the soul.
‘I’m tired… but happy too.
I’m not ready, I don’t think I'll ever be ready to leave it all behind…
…But things feel a little brighter, a little lighter already.’
And now.
Erm, well…
“—You WHAT?!” Samyra screams.
Gaviel answers “I do not see the problem here.”
“I do!... but I do not mind at all so carry on.” Clauren adds.
“Nobody asked you” “Stay out of this.” Gaviel and Samyra rebuke him together.
In the end. Gaviel did accept that offer to stay a while for tea. But not for whatever reason Clauren was concocting in his head. But to make an offer.
He wants to teach me how to be a ranger.
Or at least the basics that come with the job.
As in, learn how to shoot a bow, handle knives and swords, wield other non-standard weaponry, know my way around surviving in the wilderness, and all sorts of other stuff. He said.
I couldn’t even begin to figure out where this came from. ‘Well, actually, I can, but I am not sure. We are.. Reconciling, sort of.’ I am already feeling quite at home, and I haven’t even started to learn magic. I am looking forward to that.
‘Though the part about surviving –properly surviving– not just mucking about in the woods but how to positively thrive and live in the forest, interests me. If… if I ever get lost again, though I hope that never happens, I want to learn how to not have a repeat of…’ a sudden sensation of being covered in mud and grime and whatever that clung under the crevices of my everything covers me. It is not real. ‘...that.’
“Absolutely not.” She argues. “She has yet to finish her lessons with me, and she is!... Well I do not know exactly how old she is– but she is clearly too young for such activities!”
“Huh, good point.” Clauren turns to me. “How old actually are you, Syuu?”
“....um..” How to explain this? “....I don’t…….know?”
“And also— humph” She sends a miffed glance to Clauren. “Although begrudgingly, there is also the spellcasting apprenticeship she is about to start that I will assist her with.”
“Indeed.” Gaviel replies.
“So you must understand that—”
“But who are you? To stifle the wings of the young? If there is one thing that we all have in abundance, it is time.” He interrupts her. “And besides. It is her choice to make, you are not her mother.”
“…” That sends a sharp pain of resentment through her.
For a long time, despite the plenty of children that exist across the village, she has wished she could bear a child of her own. It did not help that making kids between elves is already hard enough. Clauren and her have attempted numerous methods and techniques together so that she could finally realize her dream. Unfortunately, after years of searching and failed attempts, they could not do it.
She is not able to bear a child.
Clauren used to make jokes about it, to lessen her sorrow and try to change her mind. They had fought, they had argued. But she is infertile, truly and completely infertile. Even the old witch of the village was not able to do anything, and she is the foremost expert in the more esoteric and mystical arts of them all.
“I can brew luck and fold space. But I cannot cure what was never there to begin with.” She had said to Samyra.
And all the other more… unsavory options were far too risky and costly for them to accept doing.
“Ohh…” Clauren winces “That was low, too low, even for you Gaviel.” He places down his teacup and places a hand over Samyra’s.
So when the strange and sudden arrival of a child that needed extra taking care of. She had jumped right on top of the opportunity, dragging Clauren along with her.
She was elated. By that time she had already long since come to terms with her condition, but to get a small piece of that wish she had longed for so long… she wanted to experience that, even though she was not truly hers, she hoped that the girl could be with time and love.
“Apologies it… it was a slip of the tongue, I had not meant to aggravate you.”
A silence passes by.
“...Um.” I voice myself.
Noticing me, they ask. “Yes?”
“I’m fine…with it. I-I mean, I want to…learn.” I say. Not really knowing what to do with the atmosphere.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“Ah… tsk, there goes my little budding apprentice, taken away by the brute clutches of the rangers.” Clauren proclaims dramatically.
“I will ever wonder what is that you have against me.” Gaviel says, then gives a tentative look to Samyra.
Samyra sighed. “I know… I know, I forgive you.” She answers Gaviel.
Her tea is sipped. “But besides that, I worry for her, aside from her age is she even able to perform the physical stress that you are planning to put her through in the first place? Would it not be too straining on her body? And with the lessons she is taking, and the other lessons she will be taking now, how would there be time for her to do anything else?” The little girl in question already had half of her day dedicated solely to these academic pursuits, and, to Samyra, she should at least spend the rest doing more healthy things besides sitting all day.
Though… she mostly just naps the day away as soon as she isn’t permitted to study anymore, or is dragged around by the other children in their little adventures.
Samyra had noticed that Syuufarin actually does nothing else than studying and that worries her. It is a commendable interest, but the way she is going with it… if not for her putting hard limits on the time they spend on lessons she is afraid of her obsessive behavior of needing to constantly have something to do. No matter how much homework she assigned her, it would always be finished on the next day. And when she has nothing left to do she just… goes to sleep somewhere, or just silently observes someone working.
Sickness of the mind isn’t something that elves often deal with.
“She then would spend all day working and studying, who does that?!”
“Is…that not….normal?” I blurt out.
They all turn to me.
“Huh…” I look left and right, they are all looking at me with faces of disbelief.
“Oh you poor thing…” “Well if she enjoys it then it isn’t really work is it?” “Rest is important, Syuufarin.” They each tell me.
In their mostly self-sufficient lifestyle, the elves spend little to no time doing things that they consider obligatory work, they wake up and sleep when they want to, and they do whatever they want to do, whenever they want to do. It just happens that a good part of them spend this free time doing activities that they both enjoy and that contribute to the village, but their leisure time is considerably big and there isn’t anything that dictates a proper timetable for them.
For Clauren and Samyra, even though what they do is considered their “jobs”, they do it because they find interest and enjoy the activities and tasks that they took upon themselves to complete. So while it may look like work to people they are actually doing things quite leisurely and having fun while at it.
Even the rangers, who are responsible to critical pieces of the village such as security and hunter-gathering, do so at their own time or if someone else asks them, their training routine is when they decide to show up or do it themselves, and they take care of necessities when they feel like or if it is running out. The only time that there is the sort of rigid and serious coordination that requires unity and preciseness is when the Chief or the Elders have a mission for them.
After some debate, they came to the agreement that until I finish completely learning Samyra’s curriculum and having a good grasp of their language. “Eventually, her lessons will be completed, no?” They would suspend some of their time with me and Gaviel could have me only during the weekends.
By the time they ended their discussion the tea and crackers had run out.
‘I was the only one eating the crackers though.’ They were dry and kind of hard, but tasty nonetheless.
Clauren claps his hands. “Ah! I almost forgot, with all these things you were discussing about.”
“Don’t talk like you didn’t keep butting your head in all the time” Samyra pokes the side of his head.
“While you were doing your little thing outside we had finished assembling the mana altar. Let’s see what little Syuu has!”
“Was it not called “the mana measurement and mystical attunement detector device?” Gaviel asks.
“Eh… too long. Also nobody calls it that.”
Gaviel gives him a deadpan stare.
“Nobody except you it looks like.”
Gaviel sighs. “Let us get this done with. I admit that I am somewhat curious.”
The table, pedestal, pillar thing is set up in a corner of the library besides the large windows that cover one of the walls. If I were to describe it now that it is assembled, it looks more like a mix of a typewriter, a gyroscope, and a upside down chandelier at the same time along with bits and ends I can’t make sense of.
It is mostly inert, but the many arcs and legs shift sways in an almost sedate manner around the globe that gently spins near the middle of the altar.
“Just place your hand here and hold this part here, no not that, this one, yeah” Clauren explains to me how it works. “Basically, this thing will suck a little bit of your energy with a prick, it will be a little sting but don’t worry, and it will filter and sort the little energy that it extracts to tell the aspects of your mana. It can tell other things too but that would require both a larger sample extraction and for me to actively help operate it. Which I know how to… but I forgot and there isn’t any need to do so right now.”
I have one hand placed in a secondary orb that is embedded into a thick slab that protrudes from the side of the other, and the other hand holding a cylindrical handle that is perpendicular to it.
“Now, you just need to hold that little ball tightly, do not let go of it, and pull the handle to your right.”
“....ok.”
I had thought that I’d first need to learn how to do some sort of shaping with that energy inside me. –Cracked bones. Splintered nails. Blood, too much blood– I shiver a little. I remember the first time I tried to mess with it did not end well at all. So I refrained from trying it alone ever again.
‘And now here we are…’
They are all waiting with rapt attention on me, Gaviel has that contemplating look, Samyra seems curious, and Clauren… he is doing that thing where the light perfectly bounces off his glasses with a dangerous smile.
I decide to pull the lever before I change my mind. In turn, I feel something tug me back in the orb my hand is placed in, a little prick in the middle of my palm, and I feel some of that flowing ether that I had forgotten the feeling of being attempted to be sucked out of me. I let it go.
‘This feels like pissing air for some reaso—’
The world is drowned in light.
—— –– –– -- - -