Unspoken

“Stop laughing!”

One, two, thrust. “Your footing is sloppy.”

“I said, stop laughing!”

Parry, feint, dodge, step, thrust. “Too simple. Use new combinations.”

“Shut up! It’s not funny!”

Feint, feint, thrust, parry, dodge, dodge, dodge, dodge… “Four times now I could have killed you. Start again. Do it right.”

“Ara! Nerra!” She felt angry tears pricking at her eyes as her siblings continued to laugh at her. Well, it was more that Ara was doubled over laughing and Nerra was looking on with a small, secret smile–his way of laughing. They had been that way since she had first said that their father did not care about them.

“Reina, why do you think Dad doesn’t like us?” Nerra asked kindly, still wearing that tolerant smile.

“He’s mean! He’s always mean! He never says anything nice, nothing is ever right!”

“Ah, yes, that…” The smile remained, but his gaze had shifted to his twin expectantly. Ara was slowly bringing herself under control.

“Reina, how often does Daddy hug us?”

“Never.”

“How often does Daddy hug Mama?”

“Never.”

“How often does he smile?”

“Never.”

“How often does he laugh?”

“Never.”

As Reina answered each question, she could see something intangible growing behind her sister’s eyes, in a way that reminded her starkly of the man in question. “Reina, how often does Daddy hit us?”

The question took her by surprise. “…Never.”

“How often does he tell us he doesn’t want to be our dad?”

“…Never.”

“How often does he give up on us?”

“…” Her eyes were so sharp it hurt to look in them, the ghost of a smile lingering on her lips. Sometimes, Reina felt they were both much older than nine, maybe even older than their parents.

“Exactly.” Exactly?

Thrust, parry, thrust, dodge, feint, thrust, thrust, DODGE! Deadlock.

“Good. Take a break.”

Her breath heaving in her chest, Reina watched with hooded eyes as her father lowered his sword and retreated to sit on the grass. He did not smile at her; his voice held no approval, only acceptance. The wind blew his black hair across skin barely beaded with sweat where she was all but soaked in it.

“How often does he give up on us?”

Silver eyes rose to meet her own, something untouchable and unnameable lingering there in his gaze. Still panting with exertion, Reina felt tired legs slowly carrying her towards him, inexplicably drawn.

“Exactly.”

Nature

The wind smelled of water and fire: a dangerous mixture of the elements. Woodsmoke rose before her slowly, but the tang in the air was sharper, electric. The first flash of lightning in the distance and the answering rumble of thunder filled the unvoiced question. Nature held its breath.

Stretched out upon the grass, Alara gazed upward into the leaden clouds, watching the lightning dance across the gray bulges like ethereal children. This would be a fantastic storm: soaking, leaving no space untouched beneath its deluge. Perhaps there would be flooding in some of the valleys, enough to make spring lakes that would dissipate again come summer. Gold eyes blinked in half-lidded anticipation, her body making no move to rise as yet another rumble flowed across the earth and through her chest.

A whine from behind her inspired a smile to otherwise stoic lips. “Stay in the tent if you don’t like it. I’ll come in eventually.” A growl; she smirked. “If it wasn’t for me you wouldn’t have any shelter. You can suffer through my being wet.” As if in answer, a thick bead of water splashed down directly between her eyes, shivering in place for a moment before tumbling to one side of her nose and down across her cheek. All at once, the very world seemed to turn black, lightning and thunder exploded in near unison, and the earth knew only tears. She was inundated before she could laugh, the rain roaring in her ears.

This was life. Where a wolf cowered and a human waited in anticipation, this was nature. She had no intention of missing it.

Rivalry and Friendship

“You nicked me!” A slim eyebrow rose above laughing eyes, the offending weapon resting lightly against a petite shoulder. Xyre gaped at his opponent incredulously. “I can’t believe you nicked me!”

“As I recall, this is not the first time. How many years ago was it now that I pummeled you in a fistfight?”

He scoffed. “I’d hardly call it ‘pummeled’. As I recall, you got a lucky shot, and then had to spend the rest of the fight on the defensive for fear of me.” Popping a hip, the aging Portmaster returned the smirk that was slowly growing on a tanned face. The expression blossomed quickly into a grin.

“Oh, is that right? If by ‘defensive’ you mean blocking your feeble punches and returning them tenfold, then of course! Yes, yes, I recall it now: you hitting the deck with that glorious sound, then stumbling about the port for the rest of the evening. Now, I might have imagined it, but didn’t you catch slack from Wren over the black eye you had that night? I think his male ego was injured vicariously by your losing to a woman– oh, wait, girl.”

He attempted to scoff again, but this time the sound emerged more as a choke. The silver eyes upon him, glittering with humor, slowly weighed on his will to argue. Finally, he sighed loudly and waved his rapier dismissively. “Believe what you must, Rabbit.” Turning his back, he tread across the grass of their training grounds to retrieve his jacket and discard the sword. She followed with a triumphant chuckle, scarlet hair twirled up into a half-formed bun upon her head and skin gleaming with sweat from their battle. Beyond the patch of land where they had fought, the castle rose sharply into the sky, the sun peeking from beyond one of the parapets to light the field. As they both retreated back towards the castle, they could see the silhouettes of their friends in the distance: Wren apparently asleep on the grass, Trey entertaining the growing brood of children, Kiran reading near the double doors with a baby nestled in one arm. Terrel had disappeared.

Xyre shook his head at the sight of it all. “Things have changed a great deal since those days when I first met you,” he heard her say quietly, thoughtfully. Yes, it had. Lazily, he slung a friendly arm around those small shoulders, pulling her close despite the heat of the day. Her own arm snaked around his waist.

“That’s for sure. I’m far more reluctant to beat you senseless now that you’re a Queen.” Her laughter, as it had for almost ten years now, made him smile.

Encounter Unusual

“So, why do you own a sword? Where did you get it?”

Fingers moved lightly over the gleaming steel, careful of the raw blade that lingered near her palm. The scent of old leather filled her senses, causing Juri to close her eyes in content before allowing her hands to caress the hilt as well. The katana was more than well cared for; it was pristine. Despite its age, the grip was strong and the blade clean, polished to a shine and smooth in its ascent from the sheath. However, she had the distinct feeling it was not unused.

“It’s… It’s a family heirloom.”

The hesitation in his voice drew her eyes from the sword, realizing at the same time how long it had taken him to answer. His expression was hooded, eyes averted and head bowed. He was staring at his hands.

“In class, you said it was Thirteenth Century the first day.”

More moments passed as she watched him, her question hanging in the air. For the length of a breadth, her remained stoic. Then, all at once, his head snapped up and his eyes focused upon her with a fake, disarming smile on his lips as though he had never drifted off. She had to stop herself from scowling at him.

“Yes, that’s correct. An ancestor of mine was Samurai and the sword has been passed down through the generations.” Liar.

“But its in such beautiful shape. How could it have been used?”

She had to restrain herself when he was unruffled by the question, busying himself in the kitchen. “My family had always taken meticulous care of their possessions.” Cocky bastard.

He reemerged with their usual drinks: hot chocolate for her and coffee for him. Laying belly-down on his living room floor, Juri waited until he had settled the drinks upon a nearby coffee table to rise into a sitting position. Mari has been put to bed a half hour ago, after which she had noticed the sword for the first time. She had been surprised when he had allowed her to remove it from the wall and examine it, but he had been silent through most of her inspection.

“So what side?”

Her eyes drank in the way his smile faltered. “What?”

“What side of the family passed it down?”

“Ah, that is…” Was that a fidget? ”…my father’s side.”

“Interesting.” Those grey eyes narrowed shrewdly, but it was Juri’s turn to smile. Taking a sip of her drink, she returned to admiring the weapon, for once leaving him baffled and confused.

Telltale Signs

For all the ferocity in her gaze, there was no mistaking the exhaustion. Eyes gentled by a grin wore heavy bags beneath, causing the lower lids to remain stalwart even when she summoned what little energy she possessed. It was not that her mind was tired, simply that her body had reached a threshold and could no longer sustain the facade of calm assertiveness.

“Tough week?”

The grin warped into a half-smile, those eyes narrowing into an expression he could not place. The expressions she wore, so seemingly open, only served to hide the feelings that her body was beginning to betray.

“Just tiring, is all.”

He nodded, lingering upon her face before he turned away.

“I’m sure it’ll get better.”

Come Monday, the bags would be gone and her facade would be complete once again. The solution was not so simple.

Discovery and Revelation

Red. There was something red running down her face and covering her fingers.

“Riven!”

Pain coursed through her temple. It was a foreign feeling, a throbbing through the side of her head, but she had heard enough human reactions to associate the word with the feeling. It was… unpleasant.

“Riven, where are you?”

Attempting to step forward, she was curious when her legs unexpectedly wavered and gave way, feeling herself crumple sharply towards the ground. Before knees could connect to earth, however, an arm had wound its way around her waist with another catching her knees. “This is not the place for you, Watcher.”

“Riven!”

“I’ve never experienced such things before.”

“As you should not now.”

“Riven!”

“And this haze? Will it clear?”

“Eventually. It is the effect of human explosives.”

“My Lady, where are you?”

“I see… You’ll tell me more about this, Zephyr?”

“Perhaps.”

Allowing the silver-eyed stoic to carry her away from the red and smoking field, Riven stared in fascination at the sticky substance that coated her fingers. Already she knew that the wound in her head was healing, but she was taken by the vividness of the liquid. Her body felt strangely drained, as though she had not slept in a great while.

“Riv–There you are! Is she well?”

“Enough.”

“She’s bleeding!”

“No longer.”

“No longer! What do you mean–”

She would have to learn more about these discoveries, whether Zephyr wished to tell her or not. She had found over time that the human male that followed them from place to place was an apt source of information.

“H-How… Her skin just closed on its own…”

The world of humans was surely an unpredictable one.

The Importance of Interpretation

If it was not intentional, it was not a kiss.

At least, that was what she was telling herself.

It had been an innocent gesture, really; stumbling, then caught, and lifting her face to that of her savior. She had not meant for their lips to brush, nor had she expected his to catch and hold her own. It was an accident. His face had simply been closer than she had anticipated.

At least, that was what she needed to believe, because otherwise that would mean that somehow she had managed to spend her first kiss on an emperor, and then she would have not only kissed him, but would have fainted dead away in his presence. That would not do, as her mother always said.

As they drew apart, Laarie found herself frozen in the warm embrace of the Emperor, eyes as wide as they had even been since he had first called her to the palace months ago. She had been speechless then as well. After their initial encounter, he had requested she come to work in the palace to help support her ailing family, seemingly amused when she had been bold enough to deny charity and petrified enough to accept a pity job; a job she was rather terrible for. Directionally challenged as she was, it took her longer to reach her destination than fulfill her duties. Nevertheless, he had been exceedingly patient with her: soft-spoken and warm, making corrections with a light hand, and pretending not to see her clumsiness – such as tripping and falling towards the god-like monarch so that he was forced to catch her.

She balked as a smile crept upon his lips, mixing with his own regal surprise.

“That was unexpected. My fault entirely, I assure you.” He had yet to release her, and to Laarie’s great shock drew her even closer. “Would you like to try that again?”

Whatever advice her mother had given her faded to the background as she fainted, leaving a stunned Emperor to look helplessly towards his approaching Captain of the Guard.

“I just thought she’d like to finish hanging the curtains.”

Trouble

“You aren’t serious.”

“Of course I am.”

“…I don’t believe you.”

“What? What is so ‘unbelievable’?”

“No parents would name their child that.”

“You obviously have never met my parents.”

“…”

“…”

“You’re really not joking?”

“No!”

“…”

“…”

“Trouble, huh? …I still say it isn’t your real name.”

“…You’ll change your mind soon enough.”

Phoenix

The wind blew cold when she stepped out onto the plains, hair tangling about her face as she looked outward. His silhouette was dark against the fading sun.

How strange…

Urging her feet forward, there was no need for words as her hand wrapped itself around his. They stood together silently upon the hill, the ice in the air turning her cheeks red and her fingers numb. The sky burned.

“Did you decide?”

“Gone. The wind has taken her by now.”

“That seems suiting.”

His palm was warm against hers, trembling. Only she felt the cold.

“…Dance with me?”

His arm was around her before she could finish the question, pressing her to his chest. Gazing up into his face, she could see the determination set in his jaw. The flame of the horizon reflecting in his eyes made her think distantly of a phoenix; how very resilient. Tears pooled in her eyes.

Indeed, it was strange…

Twirling to music that played only in their minds, the sky alight with fire, he held her closer. 

She cried in his stead.

Addiction

“What are you drawing this time?”

Oriose stretched out languidly upon the grass. The night was quiet, cloudy; for once he wished he could see the moon through their thick blanket across the sky. His chest felt heavy in the darkness.

The camp was silent tonight, the fires having died out hours ago so that only ashes remained. There were no patrols, no sentries, no hawk-eyed warriors to guard the perimeter. This was a peaceful people — nomads, belonging to nowhere and answering only to themselves; they were his people since before the times he could remember, his to keep. How tranquil they were.

“They really just don’t care if there’s someone sitting up here night in and night out, do they? …Heh… But, really, what are you drawing?”

He had seen births and deaths amongst them: mothers keening for lost children, fathers celebrating the coming of sons. Weddings, rare as they were, replayed in his mind while they slept.

The vast spectrum of humanity lay there beneath his gaze, encompassed by one small community.

“This can’t possibly be that interesting. You’re surrounded by nature. The air smells like fall. An owl is hunting. An hour’s walk will bring you to a village rebellion. There are animals you will never see in the daylight having virtual parties in the forests, and you sit here entranced. So, seriously, what are you drawing?”  

They were his addiction.

“A thousand years, Oriose. A thousand years… She’s just a girl.”

The sketch would be beside her when she woke.