Moving On [i]

[wytch 870]

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This is interaction is only known to Vella and Francesca, and anyone spoken to about it.

Spoiler

 

 

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[Unfortunately, I could not find the artist of this pieces name.]

 

There she stood, in that ever-familiar place. That dark landscape filled with nothing but silence and a chill that hung in the still air, a mixture of solitude and tranquility, and yet a sinking feeling of something approaching, something watching, plagued her here. It had been decades since her soul had been scarred, that wound had long since healed and yet the phantom pain of loss remained, her mind remained fragmented despite the pieces of herself that she’d managed to collect and put back together. She didn’t know who she was anymore, nor did she know what it is she wanted, why she continued on this path she’d chosen, when she had strayed so far from the last path she chose.

 

What did she believe now? What was her truth? Where had those parts of herself she’d never recover gone? Likewise questions lingered in her thoughts, she had spent so long defying death, working to escape its clutches and live eternal life. Decades of work upon that path, a singular focus guiding her way, gone. A new path had been found, one in service of Death, the antithesis of what she believed prior. 

 

She was sinking, spiraling, losing herself once more and she could feel it.

 

As she thought, she felt the water beneath her feet ripple and shift, glancing down to see that reflection of hers on its surface. A voice whispered, a hand upon her back that brought comfort. Her mother, that face she hadn’t seen in decades, stood beside her again. 

 

“What is it, child?” Her mother questioned in a calm tone, one that ever soothed her, one she had missed so dearly.

 

“I am lost amidst the sea, and I feel myself falling deeper into this pit, as I did so long ago.” She replied, in a tone laced with confusion and pain.

 

“Have you not found a new path?” Her mother replied with a tilt of her head.

 

“I have.” She said, glancing up into the inky black sky of the dreamscape. 

 

“Then why do you doubt it?”

 

“Because I miss you, I miss your guidance.”

 

“You can’t rely on me any longer, dearest Maeve, you know this.”

 

”You must move on. You must let go.”

 

“I don’t know if I can.”

 

“You must.”

 

“But it…it will send you back, how is that fair? How can I make that decision?”

 

“You will do what you believe is right, as you always have, daughter. Remember you are loved.”

 

And the dream began to fade once more…

 

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Vella awoke in her bed, her face stained with tears and that familiar ache in her side that stretched to her heart as it pounded in her chest, a torrent of emotion she was all too used to waking with. That menhirous stone hung from her neck, and her hand was placed over its cold surface, feeling it against her palm. It was time, she knew it was, and yet she doubted if she had the strength to follow through with it. This existence was a cruelty, they were in limbo, formless and lacking individuality within it, she had made that choice to save them from the Wastes that they claimed they deserved. She was always scared of this, of loss, of losing more than she already had…a last memento of those days, but she knew it wasn’t right. It wasn’t fair to them.

 

Vella rose from bed and chose to stand upon the balcony of her home, clutching the leather that the stone hung from while her eyes lingered on the horizon and she breathed in the nights air. The sky was full of stars, an endless sea, and the moonlight hit her ashen skin, as her mind lingered on that dream, that familiar dream she’d had many times before.

 

“Another dream?” A voice spoke from the door.

 

“An all-too familiar one.” Vella replied with a nod.

 

“Your mother?” Francesca questioned, stepping up beside Vella and lacing an arm around her in a half-hug.

 

“A mere fabrication of my mind, and yet there is truth in her words. I know there is.” The half-elf spoke as her voice wavered, tears starting to swell within her eyes.  “I don’t know if I can follow through with it, though. I don’t know if I can let them go, Fran.” 

 

Francesca was silent for a time, looking up at the night sky as Vella was.  “I think you have to, it’s holding you back.”

 

“I know, I know…I think it’s time.” She said, her grip tightening on that cord as she spoke words that hurt herself, she didn’t want to do this. And yet, she knew she must. “I just can't lose anyone else. Not again.”

 

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The raven-haired half-elf set the necklace upon the forge while Francesca stood aside, poised to provide inevitable support. Within her hand she held a hammer, and a shaky sigh left her lips, followed by an inhale while it was raised…

 

The first strike was delivered, cracks forming across the surface of the cold stone and wisps of spectral energy drifting from it. The tears welled within her eyes, leaking down her cheeks.

 

The second strike was delivered, more cracks formed as an ethereal glow seeped through them.

 

Before the third was delivered, she hesitated, that hammer raised above her head as tears blurred her vision. And then, she brought it down upon the anvil, a crack resonating through the area as the necklace shattered. A loud cry escaped it, the cries of twin-souls being freed from within, the near-formless shapes of their souls drifting up as if carried by the wind. “Goodbye.” She spoke with that shaky voice of hers, stumbling back as she watched them fade into the sky and return to the stream, until she fell to her knees and panted, the hammer clattering out of her hand to the side.

 

A cry left her as sorrow overwhelmed her. “It's done, it's...it's done.” She repeated the words beneath her breath.

 

Francesca knelt, wrapping her arms around Vella and pulling her into a tight hug in silence. There were no words to be spoken now, nothing that would help, at least.

 

Her decision had been made, a decision that could never be unmade as that final tether of her past was severed. A past she was free of, something she’d atoned for several times over since. Amidst that sorrowful moment, a new feeling took hold.

 

Hope. Perhaps things could change, perhaps now, she could move on.

 

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