Private Nothing good happens quietly

[Vyn]

Eyes opened for her. Blinked slowly, evenly. She was getting better at that. She had even learned how to stand up properly to avoid bumps and bruises the next day. Not all vessels were sturdy, and it made sense to take care of your tools. She took a moment to relearn the balance of Vyn's body. Instinctively bending over to avoid hitting the ceiling as if she was someone taller. Because once she had been. Once the vessel settled around her, loose like familiar clothes, she opened her door to take a look outside. Wind messed with the low brush. Sky above grey and cloudy. A quiet part of the world. Still moving, always moving. And yet, somehow, always in the middle of nowhere.

„Too far.“ She was still surprised when her thoughts became words. It was a bad mortal habit.

There were footprints all around. Hers and not. Wagons, smoke, and the fading idea of food in the air. It would take hours to walk back if anyone noticed. And no doubt, someone would. Possessing a caravan-bonded always came with this complication. They stretched too wide. Pulled too many paths behind them. Even if the mind was hears, the body was still of the camp. She would need to move it carefully.

For all the access the vessel gave, it rarely placed her where she wanted to be. Such was the price. She had already made the calculation years back. The constraint was acceptable. The math was correct. She stretched Vyn's fingers and realized the pain inside them. She could not remember the reason for the hurt. The body didn't explain.

She crouched beside the wheel, feeling at the ground below. The supply was enough for her to call Grey Between and not disrupt the flow of this place. The other binder would notice the nick and question the blood. But she would never know. That was the deal. As long as she didn't mess with the other caravan-bonded too much, Vyn was likely to renew the contract. It was always easier to claim vessels with repeated visits.

Tonight the weave felt like the weather, like Grey Between's namesake. Good.

She would need to commune soon. There were preparations left to make. Offerings to gather. Bones to burn. Patterns to correct. They were still far from ready. But readiness was not the point. Progress was. And there had been progress. The last communion laughed with one too many voices. And one of them had answered back.

They were remembering.

That had been the first time in decades. She smiled a smile wrong for the shape of Vyn's mouth. But she made it fit. There was time enough. Spirit of the wind tugged at her coat. She tugged back. The little one should know better.

Rose back up. There was work to be done. And finding a quiet place to do it without being seen?

That might be the hardest part.

 

[Dove]

Hard indeed.

A challenge for others, was a blessing for some. It meant- that someone would know if things were okay. If things were alright. And it built habit, and structure. Practice, watching- a great place to learn, and experience. Now- if Vyn was home, they probably could hear the soft flutter of their wings nearby, the soft cooing that caught the caress of the wind and was gingerly tugged along to the faraway chorus of the the other wagons.

It was almost offensive really, that Vyn hadn't noticed her yet. Her form poised, but having a form of forced gaiety in it's step, a soft clicking of their tongue as they approached, leaning into Vyn's view, looking up into her gaze. "Vyn- you're still awake! Is it my turn to tell you to go get some sleep?" she raised an eyebrow, a slight glitter dancing on her cheeks.

"Or were you having trouble again? I have made a new remedy for you- you know. We can try it out tonight, if you would like!" she chirped, eager, and delightful.

She would twist away from Vyn, looking forward for a moment, a coy look over her shoulder. A few steps. A stop. Almost as if the song she was listening to stopped playing, her lips pursed in confusion- but inevitably shaking it away with a graceful nod.

 

[Vyn]

She didn't turn at first. Didn't flinch at the flutter or the cooing or the voice. Just stayed there, staring at a patch of dirt that remembered blood. It had always been like this. Mortals didn't know how loud they were. How much of themselves they gave away freely. Whether in tone or rhythm, there was specific form of naive grace reserved for souls with an expiration date. This one especially. Voice brightened up too quickly. Heart leaning forward when it should stay back. All signs of danger. But not for the spirit. For the work.

The woman straightened, finally. Just enough to make it seem natural. Like she was stretching. Like anything about this was casual. A slow breath of the nose, the body remembered how. But the pause before exhale was too long. Bags of blood and needs. Cumbersome.

„I wasn't sleeping.“ The voice came in blunt. She tried to dull the edge of it. Missed. Result unsatisfactory.

The wind fussed again and forced her to clutch at her coat. As the fingers curled around the fabric, she was being accosted on all sides. Everything seemed to want her attention. None of it the correct kind. She wouldn't risk looking straight at the bird as she spoke.

„Another remedy?“ And then she turned her head at an exact, sharp angle. To the right. Vyn seemed to prefer that side. „You are kind to worry.“ Kindness wasn't a useful metric, but the phrase was expected.

She sidestepped slightly, almost instinctively, shielding the spot she'd been watching.

„Perhaps...in a moment.“ Smile shaped wrong. Not reaching the eyes.

 

[Dove]

"Kind to worry."

Dove remains quiet, blinking. Sensitive to these tone changes. Sensitive to the strange gestures. Her hand passively reaches to her chest, gently clutching the fabric, her eyes looking off to the distance. Something wasn't right. But she couldn't put it to words. There is a hesitation. But she is a healer. Running away from this wasn't exactly part of the oaths she took. Her fingers tap, before she twists her head towards Vyn, batting her eyelashes.

"This doesn't really help your case you know, you should be resting. You haven't been doing well." There is a playful wink. "Keep this up and I will have to start holding you down and forcing you to rest."

It was a joke, of course. The bird was still working on humor, as awkward as it was coming from her mouth. But there was some sort of response she was expecting. Her eyes tried to catch Vyn's, but it kept eluding her. She gently twists her body, letting her arms fall to her side.

".. Surely, whatever you do could wait, right?"

Her eyes blinked softly.

 

[Vyn]

It seemed like the bird wasn’t letting it go. With watchful eyes of someone whose whole life was a game of hide and seek, the hand clutched at her breast did not go unnoticed. So she conjured her best impression of Vyn.

“You would hold me down?” A quiet chuckle. She knew her mistake before the command ended, but it was too late.
“You’d lose.”

What would Vyn do in this situation? That was sometimes a difficult question to answer, the woman was…unorthodox. So she went with her best idea. Vyn always moved carefully around the fluffy creature, spoke softly. Seemed to take great care for some unfathomable reason. She could mimic that, surely.

“Some things don’t wait. That’s why they matter.” No no, those weren’t Vyn’s thoughts. Those were hers. Correcting herself almost too quickly, she continued.
“What about you? What brings you to me at such a late hour?”

 

[Dove]

Her feathers ruffle a bit. Not a surprise, Vyn had that way.

But there was a mix of yellow in her eyes in that moment, something that was trying to stay out of sight, as she held her ground against the woman. Vyn was always a little bold- but there was always a warmth to her boldness. For every moment Vyn made her vulnerable- Vyn was quick to shield it with warmth and safety. It was safe. It was warm. And it was why she was here. But something.. Something was robbing her of that confidence now, and she swallowed the complexities, trying to keep her demeanor.

Perhaps, Vyn was just in a mood. It will fix itself. "..." She paused. "You are right, some matters do not wait, but there isn't much to do under the cover of night." she was quick to point out. "Not here, at least."

".. I.. I don't know- It's just, usually.. when we're both up late.. you don't mind my presence too much." her voice trailed. Don't give her ideas, Dove. Run. She held her breath. "Though.. I- understand!" she huffed, trying to feign false disappointment. "All of those conversations, soft words!"

If Vyn was here, she'd probably be proud. Look how dramatic you taught her to be.

"I will tell the chicken of your sins." she turned her head and bounced her shoulders a bit.

 

[Vyn]

She blinked slowly at the yellow in Dove's eyes. Her lips struggling not to pull up in a smile at the weakness - not out of warmth, but recognition. Prey. Feathers ruffled and shoulders wrong. She knew shoulders.
She always got Vyn's wrong.
Seemed like the feathered one was working hard to stay collected. Making her further upset would not serve anyone. Even the chicken joke seemed to have a barb to it. Dove was not a person of edge, so the taste was peculiar.
She kept eyeing the little creature, wondering if there was a deeper implication to the words about 'all those conversations'. Deciding against it – she found it highly unlikely that the avian had guile enough for something like that.

„Tell the chicken I acted out of necessity.“ Smile still needed work, sharp at the edge. The laugh was proving harder, so she skipped that. „She'll understand. Most likely.“

She stepped a little closer, wondering what would make this moment go her way.

„You're not unwelcome, little bird. Just mistimed.“ She was under a distinct impression that the creature had bonded to Vyn somehow, so she always watched the vessel closer than most others in the camp.
Well, except the one they called Jem, but Jem was far more difficult.
He just accepted Vyn in all forms and never said a thing. That kind of silence was dangerous.

„If I find the Wagon cursed come morning, it won't be the chicken I blame.“ Too many teeth still.

 

[Dove]

The ice crawled up Dove's back, in a pattern devastatingly familiar to her, as Vyn approached. One breath in. One breath out. It served to try and swallow her. Something wasn't right. Something was definitely not right. And it twisted and ate at her, in a way all too easy for her to recognize. A sickly desire to be present, both toxic, and intoxicating- She should go. But she didn't want to go. It coiled her chest, threatening to suffocate her.

For Vyn though, it's an eerie, unfamiliar response. At least, for Vyn, it would be. A strange- very strange foreign coldness.

"..."

Vyn would have never called her that. Vyn had funnier.. kinder nicknames for her. And the sudden disruption in personality- had her thoughts spiraling: did she do something wrong? What happened? Could she fix it? Will Vyn let her fix it? She didn't want this to break- no no.. Why?

She forces a smile to her face, and approached Vyn, trying to feign the normal affections that she would have normally given Vyn. There is a soft tremble though. Her arms raise slowly, moving closer to embrace Vyn, her touch ever so gentle and warm. Expecting.. hoping, Vyn would return the kindness. A part of her was expecting something far worst though.

Her hands reach up towards Vyn's face, silky and soft, gently brushing away the stray locks, letting her fingers tease Vyn's jawbone, before moving to the shoulders with a uneasy smile. "Well- Please.. be gentle on yourself, Vyn. Make sure you rest. I do not want you to get sick." her voice, a soft, cautious, and warm whisper. Tendrils of warmth sat at the tips of her fingers, warm and welcoming.

 

[Vyn]

She didn't flinch as the bird approached.
Strange by itself for Vyn, who feared closeness, but not for the spirit. She didn't understand tenderness, only proximity. There was no stiffening of the caravan-bonded, none of the shifting weight. The embrace was accepted without thought. Her own hand reached to rest softly on Dove's shoulder. No pause or consideration – like it had always belonged to her.
She remembered too late that Vyn flinched at touching Dove, so her hand only tensed a moment once already in place.

Surely she could hand the poultry off to Jem, or the kids – if any were still up.

„You are our healer. Should make sure you are rested.“ Gently turned to where she hoped there'd be children playing, or Jem sitting by shadow of the coals. Finding none of the little ones, she found Jem to be an agreeable substitute. The inflection was wrong, and she winced at that, but it was doubtful the other creature would pick up on that. The spirit had trouble understanding why Vyn made so many accommodations for such a weak creature. The vessel wasn't the strongest, but her time was surely more valuable than whatever the bird was trying to get out of it.

„Come, little Dove. Let us see what Jem is doing.“

 

[Dove]

She didn't respond. Her eyes wide, staring with a deep sense of panic towards the deva, the muscles in her face stiff. The warmth quickly, very quickly, withdrawn, despite her hands falling to Vyn's waist. The magic twisted at the edges, spiked with panic. Perhaps even flickering against Vyn's presence, on a spiritual level. Ice crawled through her, from the back of her neck, sliding down her spine, prickling the edge of her skin, rising goosebumps, and giving her a chill.

Her feathers ruffle slightly, only jarring for a moment when the spirit placed a hand on their shoulder.

_You are not Vyn._

The thought screamed in her mind. You.. You are not Vyn! What did you do to Vyn? Where is she?

She could feel her heart slam against her ribcage, the dazed rush of panic as it crawled through her.

Every instinct in her was telling her to run. Flee. Escape. However, crisis brought about wisdom sometimes. While her hands trembled, it didn't.. seem, that whoever this was, was aware of Dove's gifts. Just that it thought she was weak. Her stomach curled at the wisps of being associated with prey.. and poultry.

"... It is a good idea, I have not checked on him for a while. Perhaps that is what I will do instead while you rest." There we go. Rephrase it. Escape quietly. Pretend you didn't notice. Pretend you didn't hear. Pretend- pretend. Remember, Lisani, no sudden movements. No sudden movements. You don't want them to notice you.

 

[Vyn]

Alien hands slid from her face to her waist. Were it a stronger adversary, she would never allow herself to be so easily entangled – but what could the little one do? Weighed less than the gear the vessel bore effortlessly; no, there was no reason to worry.
Something Vynlike should be done.

Ah yes.

Her hands went down to Doves. Mortals liked the hand closeness, she found.
It was likely ritual, like coins on eyes as you burned the bodies.
It was difficult to understand why. She tried to steady the trembling without putting too much pressure. All vessels were fragile, but the bird was breakable on another level.
Do not snap the twig! Felt like a command to her own mind.
Instinct this primal was hard to chain. And the weakness of this level at this distance was meant to yield or splinter.

„She just wants you to feel safe. For a moment. Maybe two.“ A pause remembered exactly.
„By the time the third one comes, it'll already be habit.“

Too focused on mimicking comfort, the spirit's mask was cracking. A fray in the voice, note of a different song.

The realization was yet to catch up.

 

[Dove]

"She just wants you to feel safe."

And he just wants you to be your best. And they want you to not get hurt. And she wants you to stay healthy. After all, they love you- they love you. They just want what's best for you.

But what do they get out of it? What do you, Lisani?

She couldn't hold her face to this thing, whatever this thing is: A manifestation of her nightmares come to life, a deep despair overwhelming her, her head struggling to stay above the currents, as she tried to hold her head above the darkened sea. Or rather, a reminder- that just because you can't see something didn't mean it disappeared. Tried to remain calm. Thought of ice. Thought of it's lifeless hold as it touched the world in the nights of winter. How it robbed color from flesh and slowed a beating heart. Thought of it's slow, seductive lure as it numbed the body.

It was familiar. It's what she knew how to do the best. Freeze- and weather the storm.

She should run. But her legs couldn't find the strength to move. And the twisted attachments she found to the deva rooted her there. She should confront it. Scream. Demand Vyn back. But her voice was twisted into the icy entanglement growing. Winter continued to hold her still- a sense of hopelessness, a spiral of loathing and aching sadness. And the longer the season held her- the less responsive Dove became.

She didn't feel the pressure of Vyn's hands. Her trembling slowing, but present. Her eyes closed, her feathers pressed so flat against her- one could see just how thin she really was in some areas. Truly a frail blossom indeed.

She stood silently, unresponsive. Hoping that whatever strike was to come, it wouldn't be the last one.

An observant eye would notice that the white of their feathers- lost a little of their luster.

 

[Vyn]

She felt the slump of surrender, but could not savor it. Because the moment remained incomplete. There was no defeat. No pleading. The spirit tilted the borrowed head. Where was the rage? The final breaking. Light shouldn't simply dim, it should flash before doing so.
Such was the order of things.
This was unnatural.
She struggled with a brief moment of fear, but pride prevailed.
No! She would never be afraid of a creature that couldn't hold down a strong wind.

The hands held firm as she tried to analyze the fault line within the little one. When one couldn't be found, one of her hands went up to lift the creature's chin. Not gentle, but slow.

„One that drinks sunlight should not radiate such cold.“ Eyes were no longer those of Vyn as they studied the small face.
She noticed the feather and it reminded her of when her own proper form had to be shed.
This failure, this was familiar.
„What is wrong with your vessel?“ A doctor asking a corpse why it wasn't screaming. A child confused to the toy that stopped working.
Spirit had long forgotten to blink as the stinging eyes moved closer, almost fascinated.

„You are...failing.“ For a moment something akin to concern passed over its face. „Why?“

 

[Dove]

It was unnatural. Her limbs moved like a rigid, old, porcelain doll, tug too hard, and you might break the frail form. Cold as ice- and just as unyielding. Dove's chin follows the movements, her colors withdrawn, the slightest tint of ash in her skin. No resistance. No noise. Just the soft rhythm of her breathe. Her eyes dark, and lifeless. It seemed to avoid her gaze, not out of rebellion, but out of pure submission.

No answer was provided. Lifeless- and limp. As if these motions were practiced before. With each turn of the face, the fascination- the turn. She waited. It would come. It would come.

She almost didn't hear the comments. But she heard the last question.

It provoked a very simple, very placid response. In a tone almost as broken and barren as the body that inhabited it.

".. I am not failing. I already failed."

There is a silence that follows. And perhaps it is the brisk wind that reminds this both during this interaction that they share a world with many, many others. And perhaps it was just enough to provoke a few more words out of the little bird.

"... Did you not want me to go see Jem?"

 

[Vyn]

She had already failed?
That answer should've been satisfactory. But no, that implied that there had been something worth keeping inside in the first place. Her hand hovered beside Dove's shoulder. Not in hesitation, but in thought. She studied the limb stiffness, and the dull stillness.
The skin was another's.
This was no longer the the trembling creature she intended to pass off to Jem.

This one was cracking. And cracked vessels leaked purpose.

Fingers pressed the dip in Dove's collarbone. Pulse present. Still there, still mortal. Good!
It wasn't Vyn's shroud she channeled. The vessel would hold. She had seen enough fail before their time. Mortals had no right going against the cycle!
A web of interconnected stitching, every crack refilled with power, each nick held firm by shroud.

It was not your job to decide when the vessel stopped. It was not your place!

The wind shifted again, this time not wishing to tug her coat. The little sibling brought information instead. She already knew the shape of him, even before he approached.

Jem.

„Not a step further, Jem'el.“ Her voice was sharp and masculine, but he didn't seem phased. „Stay where you are.“

A pause measured in Dove's heartbeat.

„She is not ready to be held like this.“ And to the spirit's surprise, she found herself overcome with a protective instinct. Too much shroud had been channeled. Too much Vyn was bleeding in. The first wall threatened to crumble.
„This one is...necessary.“ She told herself. Repeated. Quiet. Because the alternative would be to confess Vyn had bled through, and that was unacceptable.
„You asked for Jem. And here he is.“ She moved to cup the creature's cheek, and the hand... hesitated? Voice becoming Vyn's again.

This was a disaster!

„But first, reassemble yourself.“ She only remembered to blink when tears came out.
Yes, surely that was the reason.
„Breathe. Obey. And be still.“