Vyn held onto the image of a desiccated Jem far longer than it was polite. Imagined him hacking and then trying to be smooth about it. Both for Dove and his pride. But what Dove said got more attention. That anyone could choose not to eat everything available was a strange thought. There were good years when you could be pickier and the lean where you didn't have the luxury. Purposefully limiting yourself seemed a very strange thing to do. And it posed a different question. One she'd never really asked. Mostly because she believed it wasn't a happy story. And yet...

„Didn't grow up hungry, then.“ Which was a nice thing to hear. Much of what she'd learned about the bird suggested a darker streak. This small bit of abundance snuck through like sunshine. And Vyn appreciated it was there.

„Asked if they go quick. Depends.“ She tried to find the right words. It all felt delicate. „Steady hand. Properly done. They drop before they know.“ Remembered something closer to home. „Like that lantern you snuff before bed.“

„If you miss – there's pain and fear. So you learn not to miss.“ She wasn't sure what to say. Because Dove wasn't a child – even if her naive innocence often suggested it.
 
"Kinda."

It was quiet. "Fasting was a practice. We believed that sometimes to remove the darkest parts of ourselves, we had to 'starve' it out. But, lately, I've been thinking about it. Because, I learn things here. New ways people do things, see things. New ways to lie, or change things. Sometimes, I wonder what was true, and what was actually the lie. And sometimes, I wonder if it's even possible to starve out the darkest parts of yourself."

Her eyes blinked at Vyn with a soft bit of curiosity. Like when the sun peaks out from behind the clouds to highlight a moment in time, before fading away. "I suppose it makes sense. If you have to, you might as well be gentle. Though, do you think surviving makes you a monster?"

There is an eerie tone to her voice, cold, almost caustic with it's frozen touch, the kind of cold that can stop sound right in it's tracks, and yet deafen someone with it's scream.
 
Vyn'd heard of similar practices. Suppress the joy of living in the name of some imagined sin. But whatever you prayed to didn't fill your gut. Food did. Denying sustenance in penance seemed like a bad trade. She wouldn't make it, and was surprised to learn Dove had. Because there was no cure for the darkest part of self – there was only restraint.

„Survival doesn't make you a monster, Dove.“ Her tail flicked the bird on the leg lightly. „Just means you're still here.“

„Sometimes life shapes you.“ A shrug. „Sometimes you get to shape it back. And you got that in you.“ She was always careful what she said around the other woman. It wasn't her responsibility more than any other Elum. Just a command from beyond, burnt into who she was.

„And if you're learning from me, Ghost doctor...“ Held Dove's gaze wondering how much should be left unsaid. „There's no shame in soft. Just never let it make you small.“
 
"..." There was a way Vyn existed that made Dove feel safe. She could be literally living in a world without a sun, and yet, as long as she could feel the deva's figure nearby, she'd be brave enough to explore it. Once again, Dove reached for Vyn's hand. But this time, she held it, her fingers interwining loosely in the palelight's as she walked her back to the area.

Where Dove's slightly suspicious meal awaited.

----

There was a method for it all, it seemed. Per this ritual, there needed to be little light- as it would signal new beginnings. The group had conjured this method using the position of certain bodies within the rings, the way the moons would orient. So the night was indeed dark, and somehow, the light of the stars danced above. A small fire was set- and all of the participants sat around the ring, with the ringleader sitting on the opposite end of the father. Her tongue flicked, the scales on her body splashed against her skin in hypnotic patterns, her cracked horns pierced with rings and chains.

Despite her form bending from age, she looked all too happy. "Tonight- we do what in our culture is called a cleansing. We take the darkest parts of ourselves, and burn it, and scatter the ashes to the void, so that it may not be seen again!" She raises her scepter high, and starts to mumble a bunch of rather confusing syllables, most which probably couldn't be repeated by anyone with a human voice range. Click-click hissssss-

She throws some herbs haphazardly into the fire. "Now, if anyone else needs to become unburdened, step forward, step forward! Niyazu gives everyone wings, no matter their dedication. To travel, to fly, is our destiny!"
 
Still felt the bygone meal in her sweat. Whatever craft she hoped to employ in fixing the saltmine Dove had opened hadn't taken. She'd foregone a lot of the more common spices since. Somehow, all flavors felt already saturated in her mouth. And perhaps it was this saltiness that pressed her brows down as she looked at the cabal initiating the ritual.

She'd done what was required. Asked around about them and made sure they weren't known as dangerous. And anyone who'd known them from before could confirm as much. They were still proving to be quite a strange bunch. Secrets among the Elum were never well kept. But she could never get the full story behind the group. This worried Vyn.

All this talk of fire and cleansing sounded common enough – been to enough ceremonies not to think much of it. Four out of six faiths preached movement, freedom or some brand of higher knowing. The actual fire, she didn't like. Her gut stayed tense – ready to stop this if it got too out of hand at any point. But she would not decide for Dove.

Wouldn't steal from her like that.
 
The group sat before the fire. Some anxiously giggle and chittering between each other. Others trembled.

Dove sat quiet, her eyes scanning the horizon, worried and wary, as if there was an enemy waiting over the hill, threatening to take her wings.

Meanwhile the leader of this ritual raised both hands in the air. "No?? None? So be it, then let us show these lovely fledglings what it truly means to FLY. I, Rasha, will guide you to shedding your weight! We first- start, with the first steps.." The crooked little lizard leaned in, smiling softly, to the crowd, walking it's circle. "To be free of burden- is to first recognize that burden first, so you are able to separate it from yourself." There are a few nods. Dove's head snaps back into attention, her eyes soft and worried.

"So, I hand you- THIS!" She raises her hand, and fans some empty cards into the air, pale, with a golden seal, dancing in the light. "These- will help us in our endeavorsss!" she grins. One is passed to each member of the ritual. "The first part of the ritual, is to think deeply, of the things that burden us. Become familiar with them, and their lessons, and our desire to part with them."

"You will hold the card in front of you- and close your eyes- and as I guide you through this exercise- the card will become your burden!" She waves a bony finger. "Any questions?"

So far, everyone answered 'no'.
 
And Vyn would be another one without any questions. With each passing beat, the ritual looked less and less serious. Next they'd be asking them to shed their spiritual burden or some such. If it really was that easy to get rid of the ugly parts of yourself – everyone would be drinking this nonsense for decades now. They'd have bottled it by now.

But she kept her mouth shut. Because these ideas sounded similar to how Dove grew up. And while she was perfectly ready to mock these dodgy reptilians – the bird deserved no such thing.

Just grabbed the other woman's hand briefly and gave a squeeze she hoped was encouraging.

Wouldn't be closing her eyes, though. That implied trust. And she had none for these people.
 
The presence was warm, and forgiving. Wanted, perhaps a bit too much- a bit too quickly. Almost greedy, her hands wrap unconsciously around the deva's, her thumb curling into Vyn's palm, a soft shake. This shouldn't be scary, it should be rejoiceful. Liberating. Yet- her heart beat. And she felt so small. So small indeed.

The card is passed to each member, and finally reaches her. Only then, did she let go of Vyn's hand. She held the white card, a canvas, her eyes mournful, and looking up towards Rasha. "And so now, we must first reach in ourselves, and pull it forward. I encourage you now- close your eyes, think deep! Tune out the world- and"

Dove didn't need instructions on how to meditate. Her very unique art required that she master it young. It was but a moment before she stood alone, in her darkness. Eyes searching for the root of the pain, the pressure in her chest. And when she turned herself, in her realm, to face the chasm-

From the outside, she looked calm. Others pulled forth exes, family members they hated. Faint, messy, sometimes caricratures really. They leaned and shared the cards, much to Rasha's delight, who rolled her eyes. They all did this, the magic was so fascinating to them that they forget the reason and the sacred nature behind it. But Dove- she twitches a bit in a fit, her card messy, and dark, like ink- spreading from the center to the very edge, unable to shape itself, unable to give itself color, or form. Bits of it come through- the edge of a blade? Bits of red, veins like roots.. before finally, Dove lashes out.

Her explosion is violent, almost terrifying, unfamiliar to those. She struggles to let go of the card before her eyes snap open, wide in terror.

She kicks, kicks away. Pushes Vyn to give herself distance, inhaling deeply. She can't control the tears, the fear, and the anger- oh, the anger she has. In the situation. In herself. Why couldn't her loathing just suffocate her, end her right there? She pushes herself to her feet, throwing the card against the dirt, unfinished in it's manifestation, ignoring the quiet gasps, before she stomps out of the circle, throwing bits of her robe off, feathers the foam of her sandy waves that moved against the ground in her wake. Disappearing into the shadows.

Alarmed, but cautious, Rasha takes a few steps forward, and cautiously picks up the card to see what it contained. A frown, and a soft whisper. "Oh- poor thing. It is not a burden. It is a wound- and she is still healing." Rasha then sits, looking into the card, as if trying to conjure some sort of other solution in it's stead.
 
Her hand got grabbed by what she could only describe as a person drowning. Vyn was never sure what to do. Grew up with goats and was now supposed to handle glassware. Wondered what Jem would do when people panicked. He would probably just let them get it out, then deal with whatever came next. And people calmed down, because there was no longer any reason to worry. Sure worked for Vyn.

The bird calmed, and Vyn could see the other participants. They were holding up cards, conjuring the strangest images. Supposedly their hurts. Turned towards Dove who'd gone completely still. Her card wasn't like the others. A blackness was happening there. Vyn didn't get a chance to make sense of it. Pushed aside. Dove was kicking the air – in dream, not memory, she hoped.

And then, just like that, she was gone again. Running off into the dark. Only it wasn't Vyn's fault this time. Least, didn't think so. Watched the robe bits get discarded along with feathers and whatever calm the night had. Stunned, for a moment. But things had changed in the months since – and she'd been asked here for company. Support. So she wasn't letting the little one get away.

Got up and grabbed the card out of the scammer's – well maybe they weren't complete scammers – hand. Didn't know what it was and didn't care. No ritual gave them the right to Dove's pain. Not like she had any right to it either. But she sure as Wagons wouldn't be leaving a piece of it to the wind and Moons.

Slowly crept in the creature's wake and gathered up what Dove had dropped. It all felt familiar. Like that damn strap, many nights ago.

Hopefully this night ended better.
 
It was easy enough to find Dove. But namely- because something definitely was wrecking her internally after the affair. Clumps of white feathers were fresh, jagged, like serrated bits of white glass ripped fresh from skin. There's a stagger, and sharp turn in the path, so soft- paying no care to the uneven terrain, the piercing nettle- a wake of destruction surely- but not for the world, but that who traversed the path. Eventually, continuing the road, Vyn would find the binder for the wings, twisted and ripped, and a few more bits of ripped fabric.

Finally, Vyn would find their troubled hen- curled underneath a tree, her hands stretched over her crunched knees, her head hiding beneath her arms. Soft trails of blood trickled against raw skin, like the cracks of a canyon, the river faded and stained the white of her feathers red. Her shoulders shook- not of fear, but of agony. Of sadness. The muffled sound of mourning.

She didn't notice Vyn. Or if she did, she certainly pretended not to notice.
 
Goddamit!

The night was not promising a better end at all. Bits and bobs led her here like cursed breadcrumbs. Should've known it would be bad when she found the strap torn. Dove cared about that bit of leather. So she knew it wouldn't be good. But knowing doesn't prepare you.

The slumped pale form was easily recognizable against the much darker backdrop. Moonstone in the gerass. She was bleeding. Dove had...plucked herself. Vyn'd seen people claw at their own face, rip out hair – sometimes the body hurt so the mind could forget.

The instinct to come as close as possible was strong, but it had to be held down. Because if you pushed people back to get space, the last thing you needed was someone surrounding you.

Tucked the cursed card into her pocket and plopped down in front of the other woman. The gathered scraps settled at her side.

There were many soothing words she had – but Vyn didn't believe talking would do much.

So she did her best Jem and just sat there. A rock, for when things went to shit.
 
The silence deafens.

For a moment, this continues, the occasional sniffle breaching the walls she had built herself. But, a tension was building, like steam in a kettle, threatening to screech- and when it finally did, the sight was unbecoming of the usually-calm healer, her soft smile a wretched attachment to her face, almost as if someone had stitched it on, it looked so foreign on her.

"What is WRONG WITH ME Vyn?!" Her hands grasp her cheeks, the talons of her claws leaving gentle, soft red marks where tears would flow if she didn't already run the river dry.

"What- is wrong with me? How? Why? Why am I like this?!" she screamed. "I- I am the greatest healer of my people. I have-" A sniff. "I have fixed countless broken- broken souls, and changed the fate of so many unloved- and yet- I stand, my own gaping wound- and I can't.. I can't fix it! I can't fix it- and it's infected, and twisted, and-" More incoherent sobbing.

"I can't fix my own soul- I can't fix it- And- I don't know how- and- it hurts. It hurts so much Vyn. It hurts closing my eyes, and seeing it, and it steals everything away from me. It steals my dreams, my appetite, my wishes, and twists it, turns it into this ugly- ugly thing!" she clenched her fist. "I don't want to hurt anymore! I don't! And, it's not fair- because, I can't be hurt anymore, I can't, I can't, I'm so far.. I'm so far.."
 
The kettle boiled over – only what came out wasn't water. It was that soft inside terror of things that just never quite fit together right. Being able to fix things never meant being fixed in turn. It only allowed you to see the damage...recognize it. So what was wrong? Everything was wrong. But that wasn't a personal problem. It was the world that liked keeping itself broken. People just peopled along the best they could.

So let her scratch and scream. There were many incurable faults. Seen them all. Sadness was one of the better ones. You never quite fit – but at least no one got hurt for it. And if there's some pain...well, better than the alternative.

Winced at every new scratch in Dove's cheek. Any damage was obvious when one was so devoid of color. But what do you do? Tell them it was going to be alright? That was a nice story, but they weren't children.

But she didn't have time to think. There were those words. So far. Still remembered what happened the last time Dove seemed too distant. How she just being Dove. Stopped being anyone. She wasn't going to allow that to happen without a fight.

Grabbed one of Dove's hands. As if the cuff of flesh would tether the soul. But what else was she to do?

„You could tell me.“ Wasn't sure that would do any good. Vyn wasn't the one who healed. That was Dove. But someone had to help the healer heal too. Maybe Vyn couldn't bear it either. Some sadness diminished when repeated. Others multiplied. But it didn't matter.

Not trying was the greatest sin of all.
 
It was ironic, hilarious even- because Dove can, and has requested people tell her. She so easily expected them to pour out her heart to her. She only hoped Vyn was as patient as she was when they told her 'no.' Because she couldn't- oh, oh no she couldn't. It weighed on her, the fear, of what would happen when she dropped the burden onto this little structure she called a home. Would it stand? Would it hold the weight? Even for a moment?

It stopped her, from scratching herself at least, her eyes wide in shock. But then, she shakes, and shakes her head harder. "... I can't. I can't tell you. What would you think? Oh- you would hate me- I was stupid. Vyn, I was so- I was so stupid, and blind. And the more I stay here, the more I realize how much of an idiot I was- and.. and.." She rips her hand from the deva to pull to her mouth, her eyes trying to find a little more water in a desert of pain to break against her skin. Her hands clapped to her lips in prayer, as she slowly started to sink a bit into the ground, wishing the world would swallow her hole.

"And then-" She slams back up, looking at Vyn, eyes wild. "My family, Vyn, they're back there, so- so unaware, and so.. And- I can't go back there.. cause.. cause.." Her face contorts yet again. And then she winces, reaching at her chest again. And she curls a bit, laying sideways on the ground. "I.. I'm so worthless Vyn." Her voice hollow as the wind.
 
Well, at least she was no longer clawing at her face. Small victories. Maintaining calm was steadily becoming difficult. Was this how Jem felt when she fell apart? Did he also want to shake her until everything came out and then just sweep it away? Everything that could be done felt wrong. Each word inadequate. But just letting it sit was worse.

„Road waits for no man.“ Like a joke only the two of them knew. „Doesn't mean I can't wait for you.“ Vyn patted her own hand in an attempt to soothe. Perhaps it was easier to stay calm when your hands were busy. Pretending to do something – have control of something – as things fell apart.

Whatever it was that Dove kept bottled up was poisoning her. And that was a familiar feeling – toxins only you were entitled to. Truth that, when spoken, would make you less...you. The bird was surprisingly upbeat if that was her day to day. Whenever Vyn felt it, she just wanted to drink. Lubricate and forget. But you never could quite put it out of your mind. There was only one way for Elum to truly forget. And the price was horrible. Still looked appealing some days.

„Whatever it is – we will figure it out. If we need to go get your family, we will.“

Wasn't even sure what she was saying. Felt right. And that would have to be enough.
 
You must log in or register to reply here.
Back
Top Bottom