Do Comets Crash or Burn?

[Frawlic 1602]

 

 

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Spoiler

 

 

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It was raining when a bird streaked the sky. Letter tied neatly to its leg as it swooped downwards to the nearby aviary. Countless hours had she spent staring at it every day awaiting something from anyone — and every day it was more or less silent, a testament to its busy past. Still, she drew from the threshold of the keep and shielded herself from the rain with blackened hands. New fingers stroked the feathers of the carrier bird as the opposing hand removed the wet letter from its hold. The ink had bled, and yet her blurred vision took in handwriting that seemed foreign. Instructions. Upwards her attention drew as she gasped in relief. Without wasting a moment, she tossed the letter into the nearby blaze and took off into the night.

 

The irony of Amari finding herself shivering from the cold when fire coursed through her veins was a plaguing thought. One which ceased as she took notice of a man granting her unnecessary mercy, Villorik. It had become a common occurrence for her to pause in her steps and neither of the two seemed to truly address one another. The little conversation they had could be broken down to mindless chatter, disappointment, and realizations — but that's exactly what it was, little conversation, and eventually, they found themselves atop a mountain where rain became snow and chill snuck into her bones. Meeting other Naztherak was far and between within her last 18 or so years of being branded, most of which were a blur. Three of them stood there in wait. Three of them were willing to untangle her from a web she had crawled into. Or perhaps they wished to destroy her for wanting a way out, such a concern constantly drawing her eyes to Villorik. Had Amaya regarded him the same in her final moments. Were these going to be her own?

 

When beckoned she stepped forward. When told where to stand, she did. When told to stop shaking, she stopped. She could not ruin this opportunity, not when she had waited so long. Most of the words and hymns chanted were foreign to her ears, her eyes did not bother to take in the Ilzakarn. As maleus crept from the pentacle upwards to the black markings on her hands which covered the constellation branding, a reminder of her connection to Sermi, discomfort rose. When made to scream, she screamed. The maleus laced between her fingers as searing pain enveloped wherever her branding was. Her skin distorted and blistered as heat racked her with pain. And none of it went past quickly.

 

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Who was it that she had told first, of what afflicted her? Saoirse. As her quill danced across that letter all she could hope for was redemption. That perhaps their love for one another and the child she cradled in her other arm would surpass whatever she had doomed upon them. Maybe if they had spoken about it things would have changed or stayed the way they were. Would she have preferred that? It was difficult to love when your heart had been broken so fervently before. A realization that she simply used the woman dawned on her and her mind crawled to the next thought; knowing this one would receive no forgiveness.

 

…

 

Someone had cared for her son after all of it. Emma. Those years in the time her father died, and once again after that fateful day in Valdev’s square. Now that was a mother, a younger woman which inspired her to be better, to try. Everything was going to be for her son.

 

…

 

Her son. Volya. The one person she found herself to love unconditionally and knew would not leave her in the end. After everything she had put him through because of her decisions. He never saw her failures, only the lessons from them. Hatred consumed him, only for those who were truly evil, those who ruined lives.

 

…

 

A ruined life. She wanted to raise her, Mahaut, who had suffered a cruel childhood similar to her own. A house set ablaze and the charred corpses of those who were supposed to be there. Amari was supposed to be there and yet she left her. She wanted to go back. She wanted to be there. Something told her that would only make things worse.

 

…

 

Who else had she made things worse for? She thought she was helping Verena, her best friend, her sister. She dragged her out to that cabin, thinking that she could save her mother with her. Neither of the girls knew it was too late. Neither of the girls knew what they were giving up. When she looked at that boy, all she could see was what her future might have been. The horns, the tail, a cursed child.

 

…

 

Children, she wanted a family. Despite her affliction, Lorcan sought to offer her such and for him she only offered pain. Disconnection, going missing, leaving him. Had she truly ever loved him or perhaps the thought that with him nothing had ever gone wrong? Like she was a teenage girl in love again. She had truly loved him, and for him, she only wanted the best. The best was not her.

 

…

 

A man who truly loved her, and in most eyes she was his reflection. Figuratively speaking of course, they did not share any blood, even if their hearts beat the same. It was fate or perhaps childish idiocy that led her to follow that servant home. What wasn't stupid was growing under his care. Her true star, that's what Cedomir was. Through it all he forgave, he forgot, and never once did he leave her. His eyes which scorned others for her perception, worn hands which would pick her up off the ground…

 

…

 

Seraph was found dying on the ground. He was supposed to be purchasing spices in Hyspia and she trailed the road there. A wrong right turn, one which he had taken too. As a singular eye lifted to the cross within the woods, she felt forsaken. That night convinced her no god was real or that none of them listened. No child should have to gather her father's guts back into his body and yet there she was, screaming for someone, anyone, for help. When it came it was too late.

 

…

 

The one who had killed him was her aunt, Sermi. They too weren't blood-related and yet their scars and hurt were the same. Two creatures caught in their cage, clawing at each other to get their way out. Both were left hurt in the crossfire. Only one of them could keep their promise. 

 

…

 

During her childhood, Amari promised Amaya that she would protect Deia, and where she found herself now, she wasn't sure if she was doing a good job. Deia, a mother figure, no, her mother, had gone through endless torment for this child, now a woman. Perhaps her manner of protecting Deia was being a constant in her life, and the same for herself. She couldn't lose her… She couldn't leave her.

 

…

 

She didn't want to leave, not when they had been so kind to her. Being a rather suspect figure in her arrival did not deter sincerity. Conan offered her a home and as time carried on, she felt as though she deceived him. At one point, she thought to plead for her death and when it came to truth, he accepted it. He accepted her. She wanted to get better. She wanted to be better. Perhaps with his help she was worth saving. Maybe then her hurt would stop.

 

…
 

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That burning hurt proceeded over the span of an hour, Amari had crumpled to her knees, unable to stand it. A reminder of what she could have afflicted upon others. Malflame scarring drew up her hands and sleeves, ones she had never given to others. Guilt reverberated through her breaths, not because of the cost of her freedom, but because of what she had once been. Her eyes drew to Villorik as he asked whether she could stand. She sought to prove herself and through pain, she persevered to her feet. Her mind racked and went blank as she was dragged from the rock and to the ground below. Amari did not want him to take back his mercy, she had to prove herself. Without a word, she forced herself away on foot. Refusal for assistance, if she could not survive on her own with newfound normalcy, she would simply allow herself to rot. She would prove herself. She would be better. 

 

It was raining but never had the stars shined so bright in her eyes.

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Spoiler

This post is not public knowledge, please do not meta-game. Though, feel free to post any form of reply :)

 

[prophetisms 982]

On the day Amari hung, Mahaut prayed for her, that her first girlhood friend would find peace. Almost every day after, she prayed to her. Between the saints that filled the pages of Mahaut’s books, the Leuven found solace in people she knew. She sought answers from people she loved.

Amyas. Arianne. Her mother. Catherine. Kristoff. Amaya.

Amari.

Perhaps Mahaut will finally get an answer.

[doreebear 605]

Within the quiet walls of her home, Saoirse gently pressed a kiss to her husband’s cheek, offering him a soft smile before turning to wave at her two beloved daughters. With a heavy heart, she sauntered away, her steps slow and deliberate, making her way to the solace of the library—a refuge where she could escape the crushing weight of reality.

She tossed her cloak aside, its fabric fluttering to the ground as she reached for an old book. Flipping past the pages, she took out the stamp, its familiar presence both grounding and haunting her.

Thump.

"Saoirse!" The sudden voice echoed in her memory. "This is my friend Amari," a young Lorcan said, Amari signing her greeting with delicate fingers.

Thump.

"I would never let anything, not even my brother, come between us, Amari. You mean too much to me."

The stamp met paper again, harder this time.

Thump.

"I love Amari! I've always loved her! I'll never stop loving her. To know she loves another—discarded as a second choice—it burns me to my core."
 

Her hand trembled as the next THUMP reverberated through the room, the sound growing louder, more desperate.
 

"I am sorry, Saoirse. I have to protect you and Volya. Please, don’t hate me."

THUMP.

"Amari is dead." The memory flashed like a cruel vision. "She was hanged from the gallows..." The scene replayed in her mind: the bitter arguments, the tears shed, the final betrayal with Lorcan.

With the last THUMP, she slammed the tome shut, hurling it across the library in a fit of grief. The book struck the shelf, dislodging several others that tumbled down in its wake. Saoirse placed a trembling hand over her face, trying to hold back the rising wave of sorrow, but the pain overwhelmed her. And then, she wept—softly, brokenly—her tears the only sound left in the room.

All those years, though she had moved on ,married with children, the yearning for her twin star still burned fiercely within her heart. The passion, once hidden beneath the surface of her new life, refused to fade. She couldn’t move on. She couldn’t let go. That piece of her soul, tethered to the one she had lost, pulsed with an intensity that time and circumstance could not extinguish.
 

Spoiler

https://youtu.be/1RKqOmSkGgM?si=N41gabL8ZlWZbNMj

 

[RingAroundRosey 498]

Verena always had confined her deepest thoughts and feelings to the burning comet, as the comet was fast to simmer out in the sky - so did the flower wilt. Perhaps even as Amari felt any sort of guilt to the woman once clad in green, Verena never blamed any of it on her. They were just girls afterall.

They were girls together.

Now they are two burn marks in the history of Valdev, together still.

 

Volya would continue to fight for his mother, that hatred and anger from that day never really fading. He was young and strong, taking his next steps in strides. He writes a reminder to visit home soon.

 

Somewhere, a farfolk man in whites, golds and greens has a beam. His daughter always finds her way back to her path, and this was a step in the right direction.

He is proud.

 

Spoiler

OMG YOU SPOIL ME WITH THREE CHARACTERS MENTIONED??? IM BLUSHINGGGG <33