SpicyBats0

Upon the road outside of the Vassal of Wynlomere, 'neath the bowing peaks of the pines above, a doe steps onto the path before Vivian, Lys and Icarus. She stands across it a moment, turning her head to meet Vivian's eyes. Black, but not hollow. A reflection of the three warped and dim within them. Her ears turn in opposite directions before pointing forward at them. Listening to the sounds of the environment around them. She approaches just a few steps closer, stopping a few feet short of where they stand. Her head lowers, her eyes shut, and she stands still in a bow. When her head lifts again, a second passes where something familiar hangs over her presence. A bit of comfort. A quiet I understand. The doe turns and leaves. Walking straight into the trees before disappearing.

Where Fenrick pins one message, a doe grazes nearby. She lifts her head at the sound, ears flinching. It meets his eye for a moment, unblinking. A moment passes, a soft breeze moves her fur along her back, and she appears to dip her head at him before returning to the trees.

Absolutely beautiful! Genuine happy tears shed for you over here. Thank you for sharing your journey. You never know, it could help someone else to be inspired to be themselves too 🤍

"A life lived loving deeply is a life well lived, my dear." Honey and sweet vanilla scents filled Revekka's senses as she tended to the small pot of daffodils sitting beside the door to the orphanage. While her knees had grown far weaker these days, she never missed her daily gardening. It had become one of the smaller joys she'd filled her life with, something just for her. Since coming here to Wynlomere, she'd returned to the one thing she secretly pined for for the last 20 years: simplicity, the domesticity of the farm back home. It was no sowing of fields, nor was her mother's rocking chair present to rest in here, but it was more than enough. She'd exhausted herself for so long seeking some grand purpose that she'd forgotten the biggest lesson her mother taught her: that life, if lived well, is still grand. She needed no medals, no grandiose titles. Just this. Just her flowers. Just her brother. Just her friends. Her found family. The orphanage stood beside her, the walls quieter now that Everly had been adopted. No children occupied the beds now. Hers had been turned down, cleaned and prepared for the eventuality of another coming to occupy it. Though she'd always been excited to help any in need, empty beds meant more children in happy homes than not. And she was content. Two years she'd spent preparing the place. And three she'd been running it. One and a half that she'd been living on borrowed time. The daffodils settled lazily as she withdrew her hands and spade, tilted proudly upward. With a soft smile, she drew her gloved fingers along the petals of one blossom, sighing. Daffodils were always Wayde's favorite. ~ The malflame burst from the Chimera up the stairs, heading down toward Revekka, Justinian, Syrd and Vitharr. Revekka didn't think twice about what to do. She knew damn well walking that into this fight in her condition might result in her death. And if she must die, she would do so ensuring that those who still had life to live made it out. She'd come with no armor, only her sword and mace. But at the very lease she had what body remained after her illness had sapped some away. Weak or not, her body was still a barrier. She'd spun on the stairs, blocking the way for Justinian. Both hands lifted and pressed to either wall, holding as firm as her depleted muscles could stand. When her eyes, lined in red and donned by dark bags, landed on him, she spoke: "Tell Relad I love him." ~ When Revekka returned inside, pulling her gardening gloves off with hands that moved as a dry leaf in a breeze, she immediately headed to the kitchen to brew herself some tea. Perhaps the Breathe Easy brew would give her some relief today. Goodness knew the heart healthy tea had not somehow magically regenerated her slowly dying heart. Relad sat quietly there, mulling over shop ledgers. His fist pressed the flesh of his cheek against his teeth as he rested against it, stubble scraping his knuckles. He peered up at the sound of her footsteps once she came down the ladder, grunting softly in greetings. Once she turned to face the room, she quietly watched him. He'd done little else other than busy himself with their shop sales these days, barely leaving the orphanage itself save for restocking days. It was lovely to have him close again, after having left Solgaard. She was keenly aware of the effect moving away from there had on him. And she tried her best to accommodate him and make him feel at home here, too. "Keep your nose in those pages any longer and you'll go cross-eyed, brother." She jested through the filter of tired lungs, patting him softly on the back. She wrapped one arm around his shoulders, leaning her cheek against his head. Neither of them spoke, just existed together in the kitchen while he flipped another page to scribble numbers in. She still had not told him what their mother's old physician back home had told her. She'd not gone to see Yelizaveta like she'd kept telling other people she would. Perhaps a part of her hoped there would be time. Time that she did not want him wasting worrying about her. She'd told a few others...but him? She could not bear the thought of seeing that heartbreaking look in those beautiful brown eyes of his. Not again. She just wanted him to focus on what time they had without that ever dawning. She'd meant to do something special for him. Even spoke to Justinian about it earlier that week about it. Just to bring that smile back to his face, just for a little while. She so loved when he made that goofy grin that somehow remained from boyhood, even as he aged alongside her. He was still her big brother, young or old. She rose from resting against him and gave his shoulders a little shake, finally drawing his gaze up from the book. With a defiant little snap, she drew the cover closed and shoved it away from him along the countertop. "Come on, close that for a while, Relad. Let me make you some tea." ~ The pain was unlike anything she'd ever experienced. The flames clung to her hair and neck like a silk scarf caught in wind, stubbornly wrapping in a way she could not correct. Her wails were inhuman. Torn from lungs that barely worked anymore, high and crackling. The pure, excruciating burn of it carried over her hair, neck, and hands. Everything inside of her wanted to rend her own flesh away, nerves and all, if it meant ceasing the torture. But even through the agony, a much louder voice in her mind screamed to keep the others away from this. To keep herself between them. She couldn't stop Vitharr as he rushed past her. Keenly focused on the battle. As he reached the next landing, Vitharr ended up getting hit with it himself. If she'd the mind, she'd have pulled him back and forced him away. Put herself between the Chimera and him too. Spare him from getting hit by not just that blast, but the pillars set by one of the other Grendel blindsided both of them as they rose to strike them with another burst of the malflame. Justinian had tried to drag her back, but she warned him not to. Even as her flesh began to bubble and crisp, she pressed closer, stepping from the pillar to throw her arm before him. She would not let him get exposed to it too if she could help it. Behind her, the Chimera leapt for Vitharr, slamming 300 pounds of muscle and power into the Norn. Revekka had heard the sound of it, and had a mere fraction of a second to respond. She'd rushed herself forward, wrapping her arms around Justinian to take the brunt of the fall to come. The three of them were thrown down, tumbling head over foot over sharp stairs to the landings below. She held tight, feeling something splinter harshly within her chest as she tumbled into the wall and down a few more steps. Landing crumpled beneath them. ~ Once she knew Relad was resting, Revekka went down to the staff quarters to check the chest beneath the floorboards for the 100th time that week. She would always scold herself afterward, wondering why she treated it as if it would vanish the moment she covered it up again. When she'd built this room, she deliberately left this and one more space beneath the floor to keep everything safe. And not once had that failed her. She lifted the boards away, dropping them with a soft clunk to the carpet beside her. With a momentary pause to steady the sudden uneven rhythm of her heart, she withdrew the key she kept in her pouch to unlock it. It still contained the letters and items she meant for her loved ones. It had been prepared for a long time. Her will, drafted and redrafted, sat atop each carefully wrapped bundle. She obsessively checked this chest every single day since she'd finalized the will. Wondering if what she left for everyone was good enough. If each piece of her she curated here was enough to express how deeply she loved each and every one of them. Fróði crept into the room, nosing the door open with some insistence to plop beside her. The wolf panted softly, slowly leaning his weight against her where she knelt. She turned to press a kiss into the fur beside his eye, then leaned her forehead against him. Still practically a pup at only 5 years old, he'd been a breath of fresh air for her. Loyal, a reason to smile when she woke up to a cold nose against her cheek. "He's gonna take such good care of you boy, I promise." She whispered, trying to hold back tears. Failing. The hall was quiet outside for the first time in three years. No sounds of Everly walking in and out of her room. Sopa, too, was gone. No shuffling from the hall near the ladder anymore. The silence, though, made the creeping thoughts of what was coming far louder. Perhaps she should have been more tactful when answering Everly's inquiry about if she was dying. Though she did not want to lie to her. It felt unfair to do so. Lying to her and passing would be far crueler. She would rather her be prepared than paint her a pretty picture to splash black over later. But the look Everly had given was one that would haunt her for however long she had left. All she hoped was that Enaid would care for her. Make her happy. She knelt to stare down into the open chest, rearranging the packages in order. Each one labeled with an addressed letter tucked beneath the twine. Sitting next to the one meant to go to Fenrick and Iris, a smaller one that she'd long ago saved for Wayde, when he'd still been alive, peeked out. Inside, the wedding rings she'd had made long ago. Before things shifted and the world tilted, pouring her into that new chapter unbidden. She loosened the strings on the pouch and poured them into her hand. The two landed together with a soft metallic clink in her palm, settling to rest edge to edge while she tilted her hand. Within the bands, each held an inscription. Upon his, the runes read "Together we will weather the greatest storms." Upon hers, "Until the world falls down." Her heart fluttered with a faltering, uneven twinge behind her ribs, making her bend forward to catch one hand on the floor. Wayde's ring rolled a foot away and clinked onto its side beneath her chair. Wherever he lay now, the last words they spoke to one another still rang loudly in her mind day after day. He'd begged her to move on, and in a way she had. She'd made a new life, carried on as she'd asked. But she could not keep the promise to stop loving him. She always had. She always would. As she gripped his ring against her palm with her first two fingers, she carefully placed hers onto her finger. Once his was laced back into the pouch, she held her hand out with her fingers opened, watching the light catch the gold with a racing spark along its edge. She'd once told him she would love him even after death. And whatever compelled her to place the ring there now, she wasn't sure. But something deep down must have known. She'd be seeing him again far sooner than she thought. ~ The air had begun to move through her lungs as though she were breathing in small pebbles rather than clean oxygen. Revekka pushed herself up as much as she could, though it was not far before she dropped once more. Justinian extinguished the flames on her head and neck, though it was too late by then. The pain had already seeped so deep into her screeching nerves that her heart began to protest. Loud, sporadic pulses pounded in her ears. She could hear the organ trying and failing to steady many times. Her chest grew tighter, and an ache began to bloom outward down her arm. Justinian yelled something up to Vitharr, but the sound of his voice warped through her senses as though through water. Her head bowed forward, singed hair smoking in small, rising wisps. She could hear a thumping above--The Chimera. In her periphery, she could see Vitharr rise to his feet, dousing himself with something in a bottle before readying his sword again. There was not much she could do then. If she tried to move any further than the distance her chest expanded for breath, it would only quicken the inevitable. In a delirious moment of though, she reached for the pouches of Aurum powder Relad made. Whether it was fully efficient to deal with the Grendel above, she didn't care. It was something. It was the last of what she had to help them. She'd shoved the pouch against Justinian's chest, urging him through her teeth to use it. Toss it in the beast's eyes. Give some to Vitharr. "It will not come to that, Revekka." Justinian had snapped, panicking as he pat her white hot skin down as gently as he could. "Just focus on breathing." "Focus on living. For Relad. For your brother." That was all she could do. All she'd been doing since she landed here. Just enough to give this to him. Just enough to urge him on. While she could not get back to Relad, she knew she would not live long enough for one final good bye, she could at least give two of her best friends this last bit of aide. "Don't you understand?" She laughed weakly, her breath trembling. The thread stretching taut, ready to fray. "I died the moment I walked in here..." ~ Revekka walked through the peacefully quiet halls of Daffodil. The dormitories all cleaned, despite being empty, the play room organized for the hundredth time, and the storage room inventory finished. The donation chests had been checked, emptied, and all contributions put away. The expired food had been cleared and replaced with fresh donations. Everything was done that needed to be. Something in the routine of it made her feel so at peace. Relad had gone out for the evening. Where to, she didn't know. Before he'd left, she stopped him at the door, meeting his eyes. He looked down at her with that same stoic stare he'd given her quite a lot. Perhaps he did know, somewhere deep down, what was coming. Even if she hadn't said. But he never brought it up. Just looked at her. "Be safe. I love you, brother." She told him, lifting to press a loving peck to his cheek. As he walked out, she followed to watch him walk down the path. "I'll bake that pizza from the kit when you get back, tonight!" She'd called. "Just for the two of us!" Relad lifted a hand to acknowledge the thought, disappearing over the lip of the hill. An hour or so later, Justinian and Vitharr returned together to visit. As she was wont to do, she offered them both tea. They spoke of plans that would never come to fruition. A future that would halt in a mere few hours for Revekka, unbeknownst to them. "Hey, speaking of events." She'd mused, fiddling with the tag on her tea. "There's a tavern night tonight, want to go? I haven't visited the capital in a while. It would be nice to get out, do something fun." "Can't live a little if I don't step out." ~ "Then why did you walk in here, dammit!?" Justinian's words came from beneath his helmet down at her, fighting through sobs as Revekka continued to insist the pouches of powder into his hands. "Because I love you and Vitharr too much." She spoke, jaw hammering with pain as it shook. "And I knew you two would be coming in here. I would rather die here, trying to help or save one or both of you, than alone in my bed..." Once more, she pushed the pouches against him. She clamped his fingers around them, fighting against the waves of dizziness now threatening to pull her under. "Use it. If you won't let me...and I may not be able to anyway. USE it. You take some...get the rest to Vitharr...PLEASE." "Please..." Justinian begged, anguish and anger blending as one. "Die in your bed. Me and your brother will be right there for you. Don't you dare go now Revekka, not after all this." She knew she could not keep promises now. The sand was running fast. Nothing could stop it, the hourglass was bolted down. "Justinian...it's ok." Once more, she pressed the pouches hard into his chest. Breathing through her nose at a quicker pace. Racing against her own clock. "Like I said...I died the moment I walked in here. If I---" She choked, gasping as her body's final moments began to wrap. "If I have done NOTHING else good in this life...at the very least, I have loved." ~ Her words were in part to assure him that this, if it was her last breath, came from a life she'd become content with. Revekka had tried in her life to be many things she was not. A Guard of the Northern Host. A storybook author. A Keeper. A Norn. Many mantles taken, many shelved. It had taken many years for her to realize that not a single second of her life needed to be spent being anything other than her truest self. Revekka was a farmer's daughter. The very picture of her mother, the woman whose ideals she never once set aside for anyone else's comfort. She was a writer, sure, but her passion for her craft did not need recognition in the end. Only the joy it brought her in the quiet moments she spent alone penning her thoughts and dreams. She'd become a mother to a wonderful young woman, one who inspired her to be nothing more than herself just by watching her. She'd become a member of a wonderful community below the surface, having built a home to spread love, comfort and safety to those who needed it. She'd been a woman in love. Who despite watching the man whose name was forever carved into her heart deteriorate and vanish, never wavered. Her love for him had never had conditions. And it never died. Nor would it die even now. She was a friend, whose devotion to her found family never wavered. No matter how close or how far they were. No matter how often or sparce the conversations. No matter what forks that parted their paths, she loved them. She was a sister. Through every trial life had given her and her brothers, especially for her and Relad in the years they spent together in Norland, she remained an ever loyal and loving sister. Rori, wherever he was, had been a childhood confidant and friend. No matter his wayward nature, she still loved him. Relad had given her so much more than he ever realized. No matter what he believed, what shortcomings he insisted upon himself, Revekka never looked on him with anything less than love. ~ In her last moments, Revekka's heart began to steadily shut down. She watched Vitharr and Justinian on the stairs above her and slid down further to rest. Her mind turned to Relad and Rori. The memories of her brothers flitted in golden threads across her thoughts. Wheat fields spreading over the canvas of the hills carried their laughter, even if the years had taken it away. The river near their home there remembered the splash of their feet as they ran through, chasing dragonflies by day, catching lightning bugs by night. To Wayde, during their happiest years. How he'd lift her and spin her in a circle each time they kissed. The way he'd lit up when she gifted him the flowers he described his mother loving so dearly. How his voice never failed to calm her even when things seemed so impossible. Before things changed. Before he changed. To good times with Vitharr and Justinian above her. How many nights she'd spent with either one of them talking deep into the wee hours about everything from what animal represented them to laughing at things that once brought them pain, throwing those things to the wind. To her daughter, such a strong and wonderful young woman. One Revekka had no doubt would become someone amazing. Remembering the first time she'd been called "Mama." With a fondness that made her dying heart glow in that moment. To the friends she met along the way. To all who had touched her life even in a small way, no matter how good or bad. "Revekka..." Her mother's voice filled her senses, drawing her gaze suddenly forward. "Remember, a life lived loving deeply is a life well lived, my dear." Revekka's vision filled with the sight of her mother, holding out her hand to her youngest child. "Come now." The pain had ceased, and suddenly her breath was not so hard to chase. "Comin' home, momma." She spoke, taking her mother's hand. The world filled with white, the stairway vanishing to open into glorious fields filled with tulips, daffodils and sunflowers. The sun was warm here, and laughter carried over a breeze that moved her hair over her cheeks. She walked hand in hand with her mother for a time before she spotted another figure in the distance. Tall, pale blonde hair catching the wind where he stood beside a large white wolf. When he turned to face them, her mother released her hand. Revekka sprinted through the long grass, flowers bending away as if to clear the path. Joyful tears warmed her cheeks as soon as her arms wrapped around him, crushing her head to his chest. Her mother stepped close, placing her hand on her head to pet gently over her hair as Relad so often did. There the three of them stood together, basking in the warm light that never dimmed here. Finally, after so long... Revekka was home. ˚⊱ ❀ ⊰˚˚⊱ ❀ ⊰˚˚⊱ ❀ ⊰˚˚⊱ ❀ ⊰˚ Within the walls of Daffodil, down at the bottom where the staff quarters lay, beneath the floorboards of Revekka's room lays a chest. Inside, where she'd looked mere hours before her passing, sit items and letters for those she loves the most. Soon to be delivered. Her skygod, on the other hand, has words for the skygods of those people. To @Calise11 To @Dbird2 To @frant1c_xr To @myrtheegs To @CamoRein To @Crimbolio To @Flynnigan To @Smoketheknight To @Major Waffle To @SamaelYhwach To @tsqv To @LuckyD And finally, to everyone I've had the privilege to play Revekka with, in whatever capacity, even if I haven't named you personally. Thank you for whatever role you played in her life. Role playing and storytelling is something I love very deeply, and I have had fun playing Revekka. I will be taking a hiatus for some personal reasons. But I do plan to eventually come back with a new character and a new story to tell. While Revekka did not make any wild accomplishments, that's not what matters. I am just happy to have met some amazing people while playing her. Till we meet again.

˚⊱ ❀ ⊰˚ Announcing the Newest Adoption ˚⊱ ❀ ⊰˚ Congratulations Miss Enaid Illwm on adopting through Daffodil Home for Children! We wish you and your growing family nothing but joy, love, and peace as you start your new chapter together! ˚⊱ ❀ ⊰˚˚⊱ ❀ ⊰˚˚⊱ ❀ ⊰˚ Revekka posts the announcement with trembling, pale hands. She couldn't help but smile knowing little miss Everly found a new home with Enaid. Even if only two adoptions had been fostered through Daffodil in the three years she's run it, the weight and joy in bringing them together in however small a way warmed her heart.

Revekka sat with her knees bundled up against her chest, draped beneath a thick blue quilt. The missive lay open within the pages of her journal, which rested open on her thighs, the paper folded and unfolded several times. So, the war was finally over. And the victor owned the claw that once shoved her brother into the dirt and forced him to watch the woman he loved die. "...Ave Imperium, indeed..." Spoke she with a bitter note on her tongue. The two children under her care slept just down the hall, quiet and peaceful. She wondered briefly what this meant for the future. For hers and for theirs. Would it mean anything at all? The world had a way of seeping in no matter how well sealed the walls were. All she hoped was that whatever lay beyond the horizon, it meant good lives for them. Relad snored from beyond the wall in front of her. She stared at the grooves in the wood, as though she could see through to where he slept. At least he was closer now. Safer. She couldn't help but wonder how he felt. Would it anger him to know the Empire claimed victory? He hadn't said. Maybe he never would. And it was not in her nature to pry. "I wonder what you'd think." She said, the person she meant to address laying cold somewhere unseen. Her journal pages sat blank. Had been for years now. She hadn't penned a single entry since... The book snapped shut around the missive, still blooming slightly as other papers sat between other pages. This one just another in a collection of things that meant her life and the lives of those around her was shifting once again. There wasn't much to say. Just the silence of a snuffed candle and the shift of a body moving to rest despite the aura of uncertainty clouding the air.

Revekka will be away from the orphanage until Monday(March 16). If anyone needs anything contact her volunteers Vivian (RezRatKeia) or Mantis (fizzyquack) ✌️ (Have a good weekend y'all I'm off to the Renn Faire.)

Squiiiiiint

A family growing! Revekka certainly can't wait to see what the future has in store for them! ((Revekka also has some bamboo if you need! Finally figured out where and how to get it lol))

˚⊱ ❀ ⊰˚ Announcing Our First Adoption! ˚⊱ ❀ ⊰˚ Congratulations to Qi Zheng and Brite Palelight for being the first family to grow through adoption through Daffodil Home for Children! We wish you and your new growing family joy, good health, lots of love, and new beginnings! ˚⊱ ❀ ⊰˚˚⊱ ❀ ⊰˚˚⊱ ❀ ⊰˚˚⊱ ❀ ⊰˚ Revekka posts the announcement with a smile paired with happy tears. Seeing this new family come together is exactly why she went ahead with this in the first place. With many more to come, and lots of work to be done, she leaves the announcement to get back to it.

An addition has been made to this missive: Let it be known that under NO circumstances will the Daffodil Home for Children EVER: BUY children brought to us to be put up for adoption, NOR will we charge adoption fees and therefore never SELL children into new families. This is a promise from me, Revekka Orison, that nothing of the sort will ever happen under my management. Period. Revekka pins the addition to each missive. Grumbling under her breath. The fact that this has to be added at all is a genuine source of frustration. But she will not allow anyone to think she will pay for or get paid for what she's doing. That isn't her motivation here.

Revekka, upon seeing Iris' note, can't help but grin. She'd come to make sure the next wasn't ripped away. And once it was confirmed, along with Iris' support, she moves to check the donation chest. She's got one child in the dorms already, it's time to make sure she can gather some food to keep her fed. ((Revekka would absolutely welcome Kelpie as a volunteer! :D)) Were Revekka around to hear him--and if she understood--she would likely tell him that the cave is secure, beautiful, and peaceful. And even invite him around to give him a tour. Knowing Rev, should the man formerly known as Sly want to help out, she'd welcome him with open arms. Revekka positively beams at Eistalyn. The seed for this whole venture had been planted by her, Revekka simply nurtured it to allow it to grow. She gives her dear friend an affectionate grin and a tight hug in response to her words. "Thanks, Essie."

((Oh ok I'm just gonna cry over here. 😭))

Good thing Rev's got lots of paper.

Pffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffff. She just gon' put another one up in it's place.

Revekka rides around from city to city, posting the following missive along with donation chests. 𝐀𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐜𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐚𝐟𝐟𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐥 𝐇𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐂𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐧 𝐢𝐧 𝐖𝐲𝐧𝐥𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐞! Located at Petalreach 2 in Norland's newly appointed Vassal Orphanage Owned and Operated by Revekka Orison The Daffodil Home for Children has opened to children from all over Azuras. No matter the background, every child is welcome under this roof. Every child deserves a chance at a happy, healthy, comfortable life and to find a family. Our goal here at Daffodil Home for Children is to provide a sense of safety, community, and foster education during their transition into new homes. Wynlomere itself fosters a community of openness, respect, and is nestled in a safe location in the woods of the North. With a booming community, a beautiful atmosphere surrounded by nature, and kind hearted citizens, Wynlomere has become the perfect place for the Daffodil Home for Children. Kids who come here will find a lush environment to explore as well as safety. The Daffodil Home for Children is so named because the daffodil represents renewal and new beginnings. They are among the first flowers to bloom in spring, rising toward the sun with bright, sunny yellow to inspire joy. Every child, every family, everyone deserves a chance to start anew. Donation boxes for food and books are being placed around in different capitals, anything you can give to help the children who will be living in our dormitories is greatly appreciated. Any other donations can be brought directly to the orphanage in Wynlomere. Just ask for Revekka Orison. Anyone who donates, no matter their contribution, will go on the board of thanks within the orphanage! If you or a family you know is looking to adopt, please contact Revekka (SpicyBats) via bird or visit the orphanage to start the application process. If you know a child in need of a home, please also send a bird or bring them to Wynlomere so they can be given a bed and a warm meal every day until they are adopted into a new family. If you wish to be one of our staff volunteers, please come in person to apply and have an interview. We need plenty of educators, staff members to take applications, physicians/shamans to help the children who will be living under our roof. "No matter when you begin to grow, my darling, remember that every day is an opportunity to blossom." -Sigyn Orison

((Trigger warning: Depression)) Revekka sat upon the wall just around the corner from the old tower, looking out at the swaying treetops hundreds of feet below. A lit cigarette was pinched between her fingers, a faint yellow stain had formed on them from days of chain smoking again. The scent of tobacco and burnt paper lingered on her armor, cloak and hair; something no amount of floral soaps could cover at this point. The vice had claimed her after years of absence and she did not resist. It was a small, if poisonous, comfort in her life at that point. It had been just over a year and a half since she returned. In that time, the life she knew died in place of her. She remembered well how her feet had bled during her time lost in the wilderness. Nights going mad with loneliness, plagued by dreams she believed to be sent by the Allfather to test her. To remind her of what her purpose would be when she returned alive. All that time. All of the nights starving, fighting just to wake up in the morning without hypothermia or being eaten by predators in the wild...It felt so pointless now. She had believed that she passed a test. A test of strength, grit and wills to get her back home. To prove she could hold her own so that the people she loved would never have to worry after her again. When she had fought off the wolf outside of Solgaard on her return, putting it at her bewildered brother's feet, she believed that would be proof enough. Instead, she found herself at the business end of many swords after that. Every other person had believed her dead. While she simply attributed this to the time she'd been missing, it did not help that Relad insisted upon an entirely different set of circumstances. The bolt to her head. Him breaking her neck. He had driven that story home over and over again. A nightmare, she'd told him. And nothing more. Blanks filled by a mind addled with sickness and worry. Anyone with a missing loved one might do the same, though not on purpose. But the more she heard it, the more she began to wonder why he was so adamant she know this. Even if it was true, why tell her of something so gruesome? The images he described played in her mind until they formed vivid pictures. Pictures that began to live freely there through every waking hour. To bleed so heavily and come home only to learn her six month isolation meant nothing was the first crack. At her back, the shell of her once happy home sat dark. Asvald was out. Likely at the Keep. The memory of the last night she was there clung to her body like a parasite, sapping at her mind. He had changed...before she came back, the man he was died. It took her far too long to accept it. Him leaving her upon her return was one of the sharpest pains she'd ever felt. She fought it, wanted to believe it was nothing more than shock. But the months of avoidance, the fighting every time she tried to rekindle what had once been there, and the nail in the coffin that was Idunia solidified the headstone of their relationship. And the last good bye had been the epitaph. "There will never be another for me..." She had told him, standing at the threshold with her hand shaking on the doorhandle. "While I'm letting you go...While I accept this is the path we are on now...That will never change." No matter why he did it, whether it was to keep her safe from the danger he'd become to himself and others or because he didn't love her anymore, she no longer cared. What mattered was the man she had walked on bloody, raw soles to see again was gone and she had to accept it. Her Wayde was dead and gone and Asvald had taken his place. The end of what she believed to be a part of her future was the second crack. Her lungs stung at the invasion of another drag, though she held it to let it linger before exhaling it out. She watched the smoke seep from her nostrils and mingle with the fog around her, envying how easily it disappeared. A new journal sat in her lap, untouched. Unmarred by the torrent of thoughts that should have been expelled in its pages over the last year. Her urge to write, the passion and need for it had been stifled through the wilderness, both literal and of the mind. No matter how driven she'd once been, all dreams die when the world seems to crumble. Before her disappearance, Elder Ljufvina had named her Keeper of Sagas. The dreams that plagued her during her absence had pushed and pushed for her to return to that purpose. The old Norns haunted her sleeping thoughts more insistently than any specter; another reason she'd believed her circumstances to be a test. Yet here she was, nearly two years later and no closer to being given the tools to fulfill the task she'd been given. She'd waited. And waited. With days filled with more insomnia than she'd ever had, she felt herself restless. Wanting to pray. Wanting to seek answers but not knowing where to turn. Her once bright and eager heart had been dulled. Love torn away. Her brother looked at her as though she'd collapse at any moment, and the one thing she believed would make her feel whole seemed to be dangled out of her reach. She could not begin without guidance, and that guidance teased further away with every passing day. She wondered every morning if Ljufvina would come back so she could start. And she didn't. Her lack of purpose was the third crack. The final straw came when Relad had been talking of wanting a metal body. His reasons were his own, and yet the more he spoke of it, the more reminiscent of Wayde's descent it became. Wayde had once said his choice to go down the path he had was for strength, and that he did not want to stop it no matter what the cost had been. Now, here was Relad, the bravest man she had ever known. The one person she believed would never leave her no matter what had happened in their past, was considering something neither of them fully understood. The bags beneath her eyes seemed to sag lower and darken further as she recalled talking to him and Atsuko on the beach. "I don't need some automaton with the strength of a thousand men to save me...I need my brother." Despite him explaining that perhaps his reason was that he didn't want to be afraid anymore too, and explaining ONCE AGAIN that he'd killed her out of mercy, she wouldn't hear of it. He went on to say that he refused to fail her or anyone else again. Yet, to her, him pursuing this was just another instance of a man seeking a power he didn't understand. One that would surely take him away from her in more ways than one. She stared at him on the bank of the river, as though seeing him in a new light. Not a very good one. The man she admired most in this world, the one who'd taken her from their home to give her a better life, who inspired her every day, now suddenly believed he needed more. Something in her, an old deep wound that had been reopened when Wayde left her, once again found itself seeping. Eventually she would be alone. Powerless to stop anyone from reaching for things she could not compare to. "Do what you must." She'd told him. "I could not stop Wayde. I cannot stop you." The realization that she may very well end up alone was the fourth crack. She stood on the edge of the wall, leaning just a little to look over the edge. She popped the cigarette between her lips, letting one arm dangle just a little. With a long, deep inhale of smoke, she leapt back to safe ground and made her way to the gates. She shoved the journal into Yarrow's saddle bag, opting to wait until she got to her destination before writing a single line. Darona would likely be home. If she wasn't, she'd hide at the inn. She needed time. Time to sit and think away from her brother, away from where Wayde walked around every corner, and a way from anyone who may interrupt. Along the way, she pushed Yarrow a bit more than she ought to. Lingering too much in the woods after what she'd endured for six months was something she tried to avoid. Any moment spared from the mercy of nature at this point was a pleasant one. Small blessings given the trajectory of her life. However, it did not kill the memories. She recalled one night when she'd been particularly low. Near six weeks into her loss, she'd found herself at the mercy of a pack of six wolves. They'd come upon her trying to cook a hare she'd managed to trap, closing in on her before she retreated up a tree. Near all of them leapt up at her, snapping their jaws at her heels. In her panic, she had left her weapons laying beside the fire on the ground. With no way to defend herself, she resorted to yanking her boots from her feet and throwing them with all her might to the black one that led the charge against her. Both came free, one hitting the lead square between the eyes enough to make him growl. The action only spurred him on. The other missed its mark entirely, being taken into the jaws of a pack mate and shaken to shreds. As the pack tried for near an hour to reach her, she could not help but notice a white one that had stayed off to the side. Old perhaps, or maybe unwilling to waste its energy on her, she wasn't sure. But during the entire onslaught, it had sat aside and watched. When they finally gave up, leaving her in the branches, this one still did not leave. For nearly three days, it stayed close. She'd become paranoid enough at that point in her journey that she wondered if it was patient enough to wait for her to die so it could land an easy meal. Yet it made no move. Just watched. Eventually, it frequented the edges of her camps less and less before finally disappearing entirely. She'd told Relad she believed it to be some sort of sign; a watchman to let her know she wasn't alone. Though, the more she thought of it, the more she wondered if it was rather an omen of things to come. Before it all happened, she would have believed the more positive option. Now? She arrived at the gates of Viru, meeting Sloane there to let her in and lead her to the inn. She locked herself in the room she'd been shown, opting to wait here until it was time to go to sea. With the ship finished, ready and stocked, it wouldn't be long now... She pressed herself to the wall and laid the new journal out before her. The spine had not yet even been cracked. The sound of it when she flipped the crisp new pages below her nose somehow satisfied an itch she didn't know she had. Part of her missed that scent, it had once been a part of the atmosphere that drove her craft. A slight twinge of nostalgia hit her, enough to drive the quill into the ink so she could finally write. "...Of all the places I thought I would be, here is not one I ever could have predicted. Father would be pleased. Yet I cannot help but continue to say at least I am alive. But am I really? I have been the architect of my own misfortunes in some ways. And in others a fighter with lack of experience, unable to stop every horrid blow. I squandered my position with the guard, removing my opportunity to have a sense of purpose like my brother has now. I scrapped every single thing I have tried to write out of fear. I rejected the idea of becoming a medic, haven't even asked Naomi or Haraldr about the school. And have now entrusted myself to wait on something and refused to focus on anything else..." She tensed, forcing herself not to cry. She'd cried enough for a century's worth of sorrows. It tired her, yet she still couldn't rest well at all. If she closed her eyes, she saw endless streams of vivid visions. Both of her Norn dreams, nightmares of Wayde being consumed by an endless void, or her brother's voice coming deadpan and emotionless from a metal box. If she stayed awake, the thoughts of these things and more still plagued her. Yet the fact that she had no real way to keep any of this at bay other than mining, tending shop, and preparing for their voyage did not help matters either. "...The sooner we get to sea the better. There perhaps I can finally serve a purpose other than being this thing my brother feels the need to protect. This delicate little thread that has the threat of breaking every time someone so much as breathes on me. Jenny at least helped to train me...For which I am grateful. At least she sees more potential in me than just a weak girl with no future... Going to Urguan last year to find the Blood of Varhelm was not the way to prove my strength. Thankfully it did not end as badly as it could have...But after surviving what I did I know I am not WEAK... I wish my brother could see that I don't want him to protect me, I just want him to be there. I just want him to laugh with me, be that steady shoulder and the constant presence he's already been. That's enough. That was all I ever wanted from him and from Wayde. Yet both of them seem keen to bow to their hubris. Where the **** does that leave me in the equation? I lost one. If Relad continues this nonsense, I will lose him too and I don't understand why he cannot see that." Revekka's fist shoved between her teeth, letting the quill tickle the now flushed curve of her cheek. At least being at sea for a year would prevent him from looking into this for a while. That was a comfort she couldn't deny. Along with being absent from Norland, which would help being a way from seeing Wayde around constantly. The absence would allow her the peace of space to finally move on. She wondered then if Rori stayed at sea because it brought him a similar peace. It had been near eight years at that point since they'd seen hide or hair of him. Yet while the goal of peace was certainly a forefront priority, there was something else stirring beneath that she couldn't deny. "...Perhaps while we are gone I can prove I am worth something. More than just a person to be shoved to the side when things become dangerous. I have been told so many times that I died...that I am no longer afraid for it to happen. Not in the sense most people would think. What I fear most is that I will not leave anything behind worth remembering. That my name will be whispered with pity at how I went. I worry I will leave this world before I have anything meaningful to show for it. But out there, among the Norns of Solgaard who have become my family, perhaps I will do something worth remembering. Perhaps among them, as we go in search of what has stirred the old gods...I can finally lift my head again and find a way to combat this endless waking nightmare. Why else would I live? Why else would I have survived all I have in the last two years just to be beaten down again and again? There has to be a reason. This can't be all there is..." Night fell on Viru then, stealing the sliver of sunlight from the window she'd used in place of candlelight to write. The book snapped shut, and was then slipped between the pillow and mattress. Still in her armor, she curled up on top of the covers with both hands flat against her cheek. The wall was her view. Strange shapes formed in the grain through the dark the longer she stared, but she didn't sleep. Not right away at least. Hours slipped by. Each crack in her psyche working in tandem to keep her from resting fully. One by one, they slowly grew. Forming the broken statue of a woman that now lay fetal upon the bed. Though all broken things can be fixed, it would take a long time before enough gold could be melted to mend the pieces back together. Yet even in her state of mind, a little bit of the fight she always had tried to keep alive whispered from behind the pained voices of recent days. This cannot be what I lived to endure. It was enough to keep her from jumping the ledge. Enough to keep her pushing, fighting to get back to herself. To know that no matter how hard things were one thing was always resolute in her mind. A lesson her mother taught her. "Sometimes pain just means you're growing. And sometimes, what you're growing into is better than before."

Candles up for Hick

Revekka had visited Solgaard a lot more in the weeks following her Dream Walk with Ljufvina. She tried to fill in the landscape with the images she'd seen of the settlement in its heyday. Since that day, her entire belief system had been shaken. She still fully believed that religion was nothing more than stories woven for the purpose of manipulation. However, the experience shook her enough to completely abandon every other pursuit she'd gone after. Being handed the pen and paper at the end of it all made it clear. This was her purpose. Other things she'd been working on would collect dust now. The lessons the High Keeper gave were the first part of it all. She was beginning to learn about things she would never have bothered to before. Not that it gave her a sudden 'Come to the Gods' moment. If anything, it solidified her belief that legacy is important. Whether the stories she helped record were real or not, she felt an itch in her hands to pen them. Since the dream walk, she'd kept some of the water Ljufvina used to help her sleep. She would sip it in small increments to get her to at least close her eyes. Though, after Relad's warning that the water could put one into a coma, she would often barely get a full swallow in before lying down. She'd gone to Solgaard that very morning, just to take in the scenery around her. For the third time that week, Revekka stirred from the sound of Wayde returning home late. She didn't get up this time. She'd really been asleep for quite a little while instead of just pretending to so he and Relad would get off of her back. She listened as he ascended into the bedroom, walked to the wardrobe, and began to undress to get into bed. She cracked one eye, watching his shadow move in the dark. She could ask where he was, but she knew already--either with the Vargbane or he'd tell her 'Don't worry about it.'. She hated it when he said that, but he never listened when she argued against it. Even when she was clearly angry about it. She had slowly tried to become numb to it, to understand that sometimes he simply couldn't tell her where he'd been. Despite the uncertainty at times, she was just happy they were able to have some time together, even if she was half alive. The edge of the bed tilted as he sat down on it, letting out a deep, rumbling sigh. She debated, at first, if she should just remain still. But the desire to be close to him when so many days had kept them apart recently won out and she reached a hand to him, pressing it flat to his back. He didn't flinch, likely knowing she was awake anyway. "You alright?" She asked, her voice slightly gravelly from what little sleep she'd gotten. Wayde simply nodded in response. Revekka lifted the blanket, yanking some of it from under where he sat with some effort. She beckoned him in and he rolled, laying his head gently down facing her. The two of them just looked at one another through a veil of darkness, listening as rain pattered against the roof above them. "Not sleeping again?" He asked. The question barely left his lips before she was shaking her head. "I did a little. Not as much as I would like. Couple of hours, though." Wayde and Revekka laid face to face. He pushed a bit of hair off of her brow. She fiddled with one of the braids on his beard. Idle, subconscious connections from being apart all the time. Neither one spoke for a moment, just looking. After a while, Wayde finally sighed and dropped his hand with his fingers laced in hers. "You should sleep." "You should, too." Futile attempts to coax one another into the rest they both so desperately needed evolved into a late night talk. He told her about his upcoming trials. She told him about her nerves when it came to recording Norn History. Both of them said quiet 'I love yous', teased one another into oblivion for still blushing like adolescents at their kisses, and nuzzled close. Just enjoying one another's company. A sweet pocket of the world saved just for them. Eventually, Wayde fell asleep first. Revekka watched him drift mid conversation, half mumbling some partially formed joke at her before grumbling and falling still. He simply could not keep his eyes open anymore. It didn't bother her, she just kept her eyes on him and watched him breathe for a little while. "Sweet dreams, my love." She whispered, leaving a warm peck just above his brow before curling up into him. The last thing she saw before finally letting herself sleep was the peaceful, relaxed expression on his face. The next morning, he was already out. Though she felt a spot on her forehead where he'd kissed it before he left begin to twitch. She sat up, clutching the blankets to her chest to maintain just a bit of comfort, just a little semblance of being held by him before he had to go again. Rather than going to her desk at first, she pulled her journal from under her pillow and reached to the nightstand for her quill and ink. The spot where he'd been still had some lingering heat, as though she'd awoken just seconds after he'd gone. With a little sigh, she laid back against the wall, propped up on his pillow, and bent her knees. The journal fell open, long used and slack from being opened and shut so many times. "I was happy to see Wayde come home at an hour that allowed me time to spend with him. We talked into the twilight hours, and I watched him fall asleep. Despite our trials, I treasure these moments. They're gemstones that are rare and precious to me. He looks so peaceful like that. And I could watch him for hours. It wiles away the time that I spend unable to rest. I sometimes prefer these stolen moments for dreams..." The sound of a bird landing on the eaves just outside pulled her from her writing. The harsh scratch of claw to wood made her jump just a little. Perhaps it was a signal that she needed to get up. To be productive. She knew exactly what she wanted to spend her time on. From the wardrobe, she pulled out her favorite yellow dress--the one Wayde loved so much. She'd planned to use it to get the best measurements to a tailor for her own wedding dress. She laid it out on the bed and carefully flattened the sleeves and skirt down with her hands, sliding them across the fabric until it looked like it had been sewn into the quilt. She and the tailor had been communicating by bird, this way she didn't have to go anywhere until a fitting was required. She could stay close to home. She took the measurements three times to make sure they were right and wrote them down on a piece of parchment to send later. This had been a secret project of hers since Haraldr's wedding. The entire event had made her so excited for the day. Despite how far ahead they'd planned it. She couldn't stop smiling as she penned down the final numbers and a quick thank you to the tailor himself. She sat back on the edge of the bed, pulling the journal back into her lap. "Haraldr's wedding was lovely. Fun even. It has given me much to look forward to. He doesn't know it, but I am having a dress tailored. And I plan to weave myself a flower crown of cornflowers and sunflowers for our own ceremony. I've found myself in daydreams about it..." It almost felt as though she could see it happening already. She imagined Relad and Wayde, despite the fight that must happen before, shaking hands and joining in festivities together as brothers. She could see all of their friends, the people of Norland, just laughing and sharing in a feast together. Maybe not the event that the King's was, but that didn't matter. What mattered to her was that their loved ones shared that day with them in joy. "Revelry...That broad smile that lights up my life so brightly, lit up near the shrine on the Wedding Grounds. And the laughter that will lift us up..." Yet, there still sat a seed of wariness. Relad had expressed worries. Valid ones, sure, but it made her afraid that sometimes that he would rescind his approval. She thought perhaps that day she would speak to him on the way to see Darona. Perhaps some time out of the city to go and see her is just what he needed. "I know Relad worries...I know he has his doubts...but he cannot deny the joy Wayde brings to my life. Even though I myself am plagued with so much anxiety when he is away, I trust his ability to come home to me. He does not know just how lively my heart is when I hear the door downstairs, knowing it is he that's crossed the threshold. I'm to go to with Relad to Caurost today to visit with Darona. I owe her a drink. Perhaps on the way home, I'll gather the flowers and preserve them before I weave the crown. Perhaps on our wedding day, when it comes, I'll just have Wayde braid them into my hair." Revekka pulled her braid--still messed from sleep--over her shoulder and brushed at her chin with the end. She remembered well the night Wayde first braided her hair. How gentle his hands had been. The memory caused warmth to bloom in the apples of her cheeks, then swelled with a smile. She bent down for a final moment, scribing her final thoughts. "I can just imagine the care he'd take if I suggested it. I also need to put in the order for Wayde's hammer...It'll be such a lovely wedding gift." A knocking at her door nearly made the journal skid off her lap to the ground as she punctuated the final page. Likely Relad come to call. She quickly dressed and shuffled down the stairs to the chest near her desk, plopping the journal atop it. She pulled out her lance, just in case, and put the sword Wayde had given her away before scrambling down the stairs. Out the door. Leaving the tower quiet and empty with the ghost of her scent lingering in the air.

Revekka stared down into her half drunk mug of tea with bleary eyes. The insomnia had been getting worse for weeks. No matter how she tried to hide it, ignore it, or excuse it, it was becoming an increasingly delicate issue. The headaches, the instances of small memory gaps, and the bouts of temper did not help either. They'd been getting worse for months, especially since Relad's spine injury. And again when Wayde had faced the geist that nearly killed her on his own. Between both of the most important men in her life, Revekka felt as though she would snap. She had once been a firm, steady rope--holding strong against any storms. But more and more recently, storms tore her sails upward, causing that rope to fray. Then Thriku Frostbeard happened. The incident marred the grooves of her mind day and night since. The image of Malric's blade plunging into the tiny man's body to impale him on the Hearth's floor had a tendency to flash over and over again. Wayde holding his head in his hands soon after haunted her just as insistently. His cries, the pleading... She'd lost her temper--lost her patience...and she firmly believed it cost that man his life. He'd been rowdy, barging into their home uninvited. And while few things ever prodded the bear of her patience before her concussion, one thing that always enraged it was the violation of her space. Especially when it came to rummaging around into things that did not belong to him. And furthermore at taking the bed meant for Relad to use during his recovery when he wasn't in the infirmary. The tipping point after had been him taking Valka to the Ale Father for alcohol and provoking her and Belladonna to fight. Again. What Revekka did not expect was that Thriku would be killed. Banished maybe, but she never expected to see him run through. Even at her angriest, Revekka had never once taken a single life. And while she had seen many things, she'd never seen anyone die either. That gnawed away at her more than she admitted to anyone, even Relad and Wayde. It admittedly made her a little afraid of Malric as well. Though she still regarded him with the utmost respect, she could not help but wonder if perhaps things went too far. She'd meant to frighten the dwarf off, not end his life. The tea had begun to cool by the time she blinked herself out of the flashbacks of that memory. Making the next sip far less satisfying. Normally, chamomile and lavender would put her out like a snuffed candle. More and more, it became as useless for sleep as a sip of water. She could hear the thunderous rumble of Wayde's snoring from upstairs and felt a sour twinge of envy that he was able to sleep so deeply. He seemed unaware of the increasing intensity of her sleeplessness. Intentional on her part, of course. She'd been laying down with him whenever they both managed to arrive home at the same time. Mostly in silence until the snoring began. Nightly taps to his chest to check how deeply he'd drifted so she could leave the bed and try to remedy her restlessness became a nightly routine she feared was influencing her rhythm. Her eyes drifted up to stare at the rafters as though she could see him through them. He'd been changing a bit as of late. The two of them had argued more than once about each other's penchant for getting into trouble, or close to it. His couldn't be helped, he had become committed to his path into becoming a Vargbane, learning about the Red Faith, and doing his duty. She had begun preoccupying herself with checking Relad's shops and often wandering the roads alone on her horse. Reckless, according to him. Especially when she went alone. While they'd calmed down enough to promise each other more open communication, there was a part of her that still put up walls. And she felt that a part of him did too. He'd balked at how often she was out these days, and she did take accountability for that. She had protested that he'd been distant and distracted, which he too had owned. Meanwhile, standing firmly beside her worries for her soon to be husband, there sat the ever present ghost of when Relad had been crushed. She'd always worried about Relad, ever since he became a guard. Ever since the first time he told her he nearly died, really. Having Wayde to worry about as well made her nerves feel consistently plucked with no mercy. When he'd been crushed by the Minotaur, he'd been taken to the infirmary in Viru. That entire 24 hour period was far more prominent than even the death of Thriku. Seeing Relad broken and unmoving scraped at her reality in a way that made her fear for her sanity. She'd been frantic when she got the notice. Riding from Verdegrad at a speed that made her spend the next week spoiling Buckeye for how hard he'd worked to carry her there. Her throat had been torn to shreds from screaming at the gates. No matter how angered citizens got from her banging on that bell as if it were refusing her entry, she had a completely singular focus. Get to Relad. The ride itself had taken just over a day, and she did not stop for rest. She didn't dare close her eyes when Darona and Maeryk had brought her to him either. Every time her lids began to shut, the phantom of words she feared would be spoken forced them open once more. Convinced that if she took even a wink, he would die. From the moment she sat by his bedside all the way through to the journey back to Verdegrad, she kept her eyes wide open. Most of the time during that ride, she would turn back to look at him in the back of the cart. Even with his eyes open, she would lay her own on his chest to make sure he was breathing. Not until he was safe in an infirmary bed did she even consider the possibility of finally laying her own head down. Revekka was so tired she didn't even recall herself pulling the journal from its hiding spot. Nor was she aware that she'd already dipped her quill. She just began to write. "So often, I am told how strong I am. Yet no one seems to understand how exhausting it is to keep my mental fortitude from crumbling. Every ounce of my purported strength seems to be tested lately. I wish I could rid myself of these headaches...and just sleep through one night without sneaking away from our bed just to try and coax the sand man from wherever he has eluded himself from me. I've almost no focus. My writing suffers. My first book, so nearly finished, and I can only stare into its pages these days. For hours. Wayde and Relad have both encouraged me to begin work in the infirmary. That does seem to be where I occupy myself lately, though sometimes not because I have any other choice. Between when Relad had been recovering, to when Wayde lost his ear, to Valka's ever violent tendencies putting herself and other children there...I have been wanting to help. Perhaps I should...but I fear how well I will do in this state..." She felt exhausted, and yet she still couldn't bring herself to go up to bed. She had truly wanted to speak with Veta about helping out. But with only basic first aid experience and an arsenal of herbal remedies she used day in and day out, she didn't know what other use she would be. That is what prevented her from asking. And after what Veta had been through, she could not bring herself to burden her with asking to teach her more. At least not yet. There was also another factor, one she dared not speak aloud. Writing it even seemed risky, but if it didn't come out, the thought would spoil her mind like the sun beating down on far too ripened fruit. "I also hesitate...for fear that one day it will fall upon me to declare someone I love dead if there's nothing that can be done to save them... Relad and Wayde seem firmly set in the belief that there is a place that awaits them upon their deaths. And I have staunchly supported those beliefs, but I do not share them. I cannot bring myself to say such. I would love to think that there is a place I will meet them both in whatever comes after this life. It's a very pretty picture to paint. And yet I've no paint to spare. My own agnosticism aside...Even if I did believe in such a thing, when either one of them dies...it means that they will no longer be here with me. Selfish though it may appear, I am not willing to part with either of them for any God. Death is part of the cycle of life, so I learned many times when chicks were gobbled by foxes or cattle died of old age. Or for the slaughter. Yet I did not love those animals in the way I do Relad and Wayde. I can accept the death of an animal. There are many of them. But there is only one Relad. And there is only one Wayde. If a God has indeed blessed me with them only to rip them away by some cruel, possibly even violent death....That is no God I am willing to follow. Mother's death nearly broke me--" Revekka stopped writing to bite down on the rush of grief that swam through her in that moment. She barely spoke of her Mother's death, let alone wrote about it. It was the one incident of her life that changed her fundamentally as a person. It was the catalyst that caused her to do genuine work on the anger issues that gripped her in her adolescence, to try and be someone that not only she but Relad could be proud of. The person that, it appeared, was beginning to crack from stress. Though the period of time between her passing and when Revekka finally began to get well was a dark time. One Relad knew very little about, as he'd been absent during its entirety. The only anchor that kept her to reality was the fact that she still had her brothers. Regardless of where they were at the time. They still existed. Yet, for a period of months following, there had been some delusion that plagued her. Moments when she'd call for her Mother, still expecting her to be there. When she hadn't been, it had caused significant mental distress. She worried often that she would finally lose her mind completely whenever Relad or Wayde pass. Rori, having been absent for years at this point, would likely be just a ghost by the time he returned. Even then, her relationship with him was not as foundationally paramount to her very well being. Should Relad die before Rori decided to come home and be a brother to her too, she feared he may not find his sister there at all. But rather her hollow shell. Revekka breathed slowly before opening her eyes. She wasn't sure how long she'd been out. But it was long enough that the quill had fallen out of her hands, the ink drying on the desk top. The last words about her Mother burned against the wound in her mind, enough that she almost just stopped right there. Until she heard the creaking of Wayde getting out of bed from above. She'd been gone too long. "Mother's death nearly broke me. I fear for my mind--knowing the thoughts I have had during times of near death." As her journal shut, she looked up to see Wayde peering at her from the stairs. His good eye sat upon her with a stare of mingled concern and scolding. "I know." She simply said. stowing the journal away. The mug of tea sat at the edge of the desk, three quarters drunk. She downed the rest in a cold swig that made her pull her mouth down in disgust. She hated cold tea. Wayde held a hand out to her which she took, allowing him to lead her back up to bed. Even once she was tucked safely in his arms, her eyes didn't close. She knew he was still awake behind her, but he stayed quiet. He did not snore again that night. She could feel he was waiting for her to do so herself. To fight him for blankets the way she used to when sleep was her friend. She would, in time. Once her mind allowed her to. IF it ever would at all.

Revekka stared at the scar in the mirror. She ran a delicate finger down its arc, wincing slightly where it met the edge of her temple. She still had some trouble seeing properly out of that eye, rocks and dirt had invaded when she hit the ground. Perhaps she should have kept the patch on longer, but she couldn't stand the blasted thing. She lifted her top lip gently with a finger, three teeth were missing. One toward the front, the one she was self conscious about. But wearing the mask had become a nuisance itself. It was so annoying to move when she wanted to eat, to talk properly, kiss Wayde, or even just get properly comfortable. That geist had knocked her not only into the ground, but into a tailspin of thoughts that tainted the last few weeks. Her stuttering still wasn't going away. Her writing had improved somewhat, but she still found herself struggling from time to time to come up with proper words when doing so. As though the hit had knocked some of the words she knew clean from her skull. The decision she'd made to leave the guard was not a hasty one. She'd been thinking about it for some time, but this incident made her realize just how unfit she was. Perhaps it was a trivial thing to anyone else. People get punched all the time. And while Revekka isn't meek, and knows how to fight to some extent, this wasn't just about a mere punch. But a cavernous event that made her take a long, hard look at herself. Relad had hit the nail on the head, calling her out for joining simply to make him happy. She was so eager to please him when she came to Norland that she'd jumped at the chance. While he didn't see himself worthy of being a role model, she never did quite stop looking up to him as one. And joining up with him had been her way of expressing her respect. Despite having reservations at the time as well. She'd never quite gotten the hang of it, and often felt the fool when it came to actually doing her duty. Many times, she'd felt as though she were being looked at through a lens filtered through her brother's reputation. Over the years, she'd watched him garner the kind of respect and authority she could only ever dream of having. No matter how hard she tried to force herself to be an authoritative presence, it just didn't fit. Like a glove made just a bit too small for her hands. That day morning was just the next that followed when she'd told him she wanted to resign. And as she'd felt when she approached him about wanting to start a new life, she felt silly for expecting him to be angry. She hadn't even truly gotten to do much. But in that, she felt perhaps there were many signs that she wasn't meant for that life. Her passions lay in things perhaps less exciting to those still in the ranks. She turned to look at the equipment she'd just gotten, a low hum escaping her. Perhaps she should have said something before getting this. But at the time of receiving them, she hadn't fully decided yet. There was still the apprehension of worrying she'd wasted her brother's time, let alone the rest of the Northern Host. After putting the equipment away in her chest for now, the floorboards underneath creaking in protest, she pulled out her journal and lay across the bed. Wayde's spot was still messed from where he'd slept. She often left it that way to curl up where he'd been for comfort. In this instance she laid on her belly half on her side and half on his, but drew his pillow close. He'd encouraged her to make decisions for herself too. To pursue something that made her happier. It made her think back to the meeting, when the idea of a school had been approached. That drew her attention so quickly she'd almost leapt from her seat. And to have Haraldr address her and encourage her to meet with Naomi to help. That gave her more excitement than being a guard ever did. She opened the journal to a new page, listening to make sure no one will disturb her, and wrote. "I swear, if I could measure the time I spent worrying over the outcomes of my actions instead of just doing them, I would likely weep for how much had been wasted. I should have learned two years ago, but I still find myself so apprehensive. Though...now that the decision is final, I feel a strange sense of freedom. There is nothing wrong with any of the guard that I have met, they've all been wonderful. But I feel like a fish among birds. It is not just the hit I took...though that is a major part of my decision. I could have gotten Wayde and Vitharr killed with my big mouth. I should have just stayed in the house like he asked. I know I am no fragile little flower. But I need to learn when to leave well enough alone." She heard Wayde at the door then, and leapt up to let him in. During their conversation, she kept writing a little. Sitting beside him. This was the first time she'd ever let anyone see her journal at all. Which in and of itself was a large leap in trust. He continued to encourage her to reach for her goals. And assured her she wasted no one's time in being a guard. Before closing out the journal that night, opting to spend it with him, being fully present, she added: "If I had known the peace it would bring to just stop worrying...I would have done so. But alas, it isn't always that simple. Sometimes one needs a push. Maybe soon I'll stop waiting for a hand at my back and just leap."

Revekka's shelf was filled with story books she'd collected growing up. Anything from fantasy to tales of romance sat pressed against one another, organized by color of the covers. As she sat and stared at them, she smiled to herself. Nothing in storybooks could compare to what she was feeling in that moment. She'd known Wayde for just under a year. But in that time, she found a kindred spirit. The day they'd met was just one week after her birthday. She'd done something she made a habit of doing before then--talking to herself in the mirror to practice being more sociable. It didn't matter that Relad had walked in on her twice doing this. Both times he'd been met with something being tossed at what little of him she could see through the crack in the door. What mattered was that as she promised herself, she'd started to open up. Use her voice. And actually talk to people. She'd worn her new dress for the first time that day. Having bought it with pocket money, a small birthday gift to herself. She was surprised just how much she liked it. Before her father died, she'd cut her hair short and stopped wearing dresses. Noticing the favor he had for her brothers over her. How far she'd come since then...Growing into herself and actually taking pride in how she looked now rather than fearing the worst. That someone would treat her with that same sense of disdain because she happened to be born a woman. When Valka introduced Revekka to Wayde, she'd immediately become taken with him. Despite his guardedness, she found herself drawn to showing him kindness. The ease of conversation between them made it very simple to plant him in her thoughts for the foreseeable future. Despite troubles that had come up, such as the misunderstanding of Wayde's intercepted letters that had him taken to the Hearth for questioning, she never once considered him someone to avoid. If anything, these incidents and peoples' continued misunderstanding of him made her feel far more inclined to be kinder to him. In doing so, she found him to be a gentle soul. Beneath the scarred and lonely man there was a soft heart. She'd observed him being patient and gentle with the child, Altheria while sitting in the square. She'd watched him communicate with her through sign, which inspired her to want to learn how to sign herself. Despite him being unable to read or write, the two exchanged letters whenever they were away from one another. Short though they were, and simple in content, she kept each one. It became habit then to race to the aviary when she went on duty, just in case. She'd also taken the time to compose a book for Wayde to aide in his literacy. She'd suspected his troubles were very much akin to what Relad experienced. And she'd learned she was right. With that in mind, knowing how she had helped Relad in the past, she put the first lesson book together. The same day she delivered it, he'd informed her of a gift he had been preparing for her as well as Relad. Something that made her very happy. Her feelings for Wayde had grown to more than mere interest to this point, but it was very important to her that whoever she showed that interest to have a respect for her family as well. She'd taken him to Solgaard that evening to show him their home. The memory of him stooping low when he was inside, given his stature, was one that would continue to amuse her for a long time to come for sure. The two bonded further that night, sharing stories of their mothers. Another soft side to Wayde came in the form of braiding Revekka's hair, recalling how his mother had taught him how. She'd also asked him about composing the second lesson for him, asking him what words he'd wanted to learn. When he requested the word "Beautiful", it made something in her chest thrum to life like the pluck of a fiddle string. Revekka had a hope that he was requesting the word so that he might apply it to her. But she dismissed the idea, finding herself a bit vain. Wayde offered to teach her a bit of sign language as well, so that if she were to run into little Altheria again, she could do more than a smile in greeting. The pivotal moment of the night, however, came when he had asked if there was a man she was interested in at all. At first, Revekka froze. She wasn't sure if she should tell him about her struggles with fertility. Knowing that he could very well reject her if he knew. But, when she told him, she was met with something that slapped away the biting voice of her father in her mind. Compassion. Wayde told her that this did not make her any less of a person or a woman. And instead of trying to coddle her or give her an "at least" sentiment, he simply accepted her. He'd embraced her, and opened up to her saying he himself was afraid of falling in love because he'd been told he was like his own father--cruel and angry. Revekka wouldn't hear of it. She'd seen such gentleness that she assured him he could be whoever he wanted. No one could dictate that but him, not even his father. Both of them being rather new to romance danced around telling each other what they'd so clearly wanted to say for months. Finally, in a move bolder than Revekka ever expected her to do, she not only confessed her feelings but initiated their first kiss. Small though it was at first, it caused the two to turn an impressive shade of red. A second followed, one that resulted in Wayde lifting her into his arms to spin in place. A joy flooded Revekka in that moment that she'd only read about. But feeling it was another thing entirely. The two of them didn't bother with beating around the bush anymore after that, finally solidifying that they wanted to be with one another. She, who offered to be a warm hearth to calm himself by when the nightmares of his life tried to intrude. He, who offered to be the soothing embrace for moments when she felt lost. Two kindred spirits had come together at the right time. Wayde stayed with her that night. Nothing more happened than the two of them getting rest. When she woke the next morning, she'd snuck into the living area to prepare him breakfast as she promised. Revekka and Wayde shared their meal with more pleasant conversation before they sadly had to part from one another for the time being. When she shut the door after kissing him good bye, she pressed her back against it and cast her eyes to the ceiling. A laugh found its way past her tingling lips, which she pressed her fingers to to seal the feeling in. Immediately, she rushed to her room and pulled out her journal. "Books do no justice to Wayde Njordsson. A line of text describing a kiss holds no candle to the real feeling. How many nights had I lain awake with a book pressed to my heart wondering what it would feel like? I have lost count. Even my own proclivity for words pales to record what that feeling is like. I had been so nervous...so frightened before. To have been so bold as to stretch on tip-toe to reach his lips and take the chance the way that I did still has me in a profoundly dizzying state." It was almost silly to her just how giddy she was in that moment. Sitting alone in her room, humming some tune that snuck its way into her mind. She couldn't help but stop and laugh at herself for the many times she'd held back from saying or doing anything. It was as though she'd been presented a finely wrapped gift and refused to pull the bow loose for fear a snake would strike her from inside. Only to find that when it opened, there lay flowers instead. She wondered how many other things in her life were left unopened, opportunities missed because she'd overthought the result. "I've not known such peace before. Nor experienced such a tender heart guarded behind such steel. Wayde is many things, but a bad man he is not. He seems to think he is. Would a bad man take time to braid a lady's hair? To learn to write words simply to be able to tell her they describe her? To tell her he loves yellow flowers because his mother picked them for him? To hold her when she opens old wounds? Or tell her that his second favorite color is her eyes? I think not. Whatever opinion anyone else has, I don't care. They've just not seen what I have. And that is their own fault." She stopped a moment, thinking back on when they'd met. How Eistalyn had reacted to him and how hurt he'd looked when it happened. She hoped that things between them would sweeten rather than spoil further. Whatever happened, she was determined to keep the promise she'd made. To be the immovably patient force to calm his storms, no matter how strong or from which direction they came. The endless well of positive thinking seemed to pour then. Making her smile as she leaned over the page. "Perhaps our blossoming relationship will bring about a peace between him and the rest of the family that still doesn't accept him. I would like to think so. If it doesn't, well then my family will show him the kind of care he deserves. Relad seems to like him well enough. That is most important to me. If we ever marry, it is Relad I want to give me away. I do hope Rori comes back soon. I'd love for him to meet Wayde. I'm sure it would continue to lift Wayde's spirits if he were to be met with a warm smile by both brothers. Mother would have adored him." She wiped at a tear that fell for the memory of her Mother. Her own and Wayde's would have been fast friends. He described his own as so kind, thoughtful and loving. Much like hers. While telling tales, they'd revealed their mothers taught them skills out of love that their Fathers never would've lifted a finger to do. One of the many things they found they had in common. She pondered one moment longer before scrawling a final sentence. "I wonder if Relad will let me plant sunflowers outside, just so that when Wayde comes to visit, they will make him smile." She shuts the journal and tucks it back away for the time being, a floorboard creaking as she moves away from the spot.

((Trigger warning: Infertility)) Revekka had gone home alone after her conversation with Relad, Justinian and Vitharr. The walk gave her some time to ruminate on how things had gone. Relad had certainly reacted far better than she thought he would to her finally expressing her desire to start a life of her own. Which made her both happy and somehow even more uncertain of this choice. As she descended the steps into the cozy new community they'd moved into along the river, she took time to stop and take a good look at it. The new setting was still unfamiliar. She'd become so accustomed to the sounds of the city that the quiet of the wilderness outside Solgaard was foreign. Strange, considering she'd longed for this exact flavor of peace for a decade. It was nightfall when she arrived. The house was eerily quiet as she entered save for the occasional settling of the walls and the creak of her footfalls. Upon entering her new room, she immediately shoved her hand between the mattress and foundation of her bed to pry her journal out. One look at her desk, and she immediately decided to grab her quill and ink to go outside to write instead. Revekka made her way to the dock just a skip from the front fence and lowered herself on its edge, letting her feet swing teasingly close to the surface of the water below. She opened her journal to the last page and stared down at the final words she'd previously written just a few weeks ago. With a small laugh, she shook her head and turned to the next clean page. The inkwell sat beside her on the dock, slightly tipped from an imperfection in the wood. She didn't dip the quill right away, instead opting to clamp the tip between her lips. An old habit Mother had tried to break her of. Revekka insisted it helped gather more ink. Really, though, it was an oral comfort. Something to ground her before she spilled out thoughts. Now, though, it was a momentary excuse not to write just yet in case someone else was around. It was a blessing to her to have such beautiful scenery to admire between lines, but she did value the gift of privacy and wanted a second to ensure she could unwrap it fully. When she heard no voice nor crunch of boot to grass, she finally began to write. "Well...that went far better than I dared to hope. Though, I should not be so surprised. Relad cares. He is my brother after all. Why I expected him to react poorly to me telling him I want to start a life, find a man, start a family...I'll never know. All I have to do now is figure out what to do with the opportunity I've grabbed myself. Not just in pursuing romance, but LIFE. To live, dare to dream of the possibilities. I am not as restricted as I thought I might have been. With his blessing, this means I can actually pursue a passion if I choose. I'm still mystified. Silly, I know. I do love him for the kind things he said. That reassurance... Though I did not expect him to immediately suggest I betroth myself to the EMPEROR of all people straight out of the gate. Whether he is serious or not is ever a mystery. Sometimes it's hard to tell with him. He's got such a chaotic way about him. And then in his next breath to suggest I try to pursue HARALDR? Preposterous. I simply said I want to settle down, not to put my dignity on the line yearning after powerful men. In truth, it matters not to me what power or Mina a man may have. I care far more for a person's character." A distant splash caught Revekka's attention for a moment. Her eyes lifted to squint and scan the water in its direction, seeing there a couple of water fowl flapping their wings at one another. After a moment, the two settled and spun to glide along the surface, leaving growing ripples behind them. A sweet moment between them caused her to smile as they paused their swim to curl their necks around one another. She put her elbow to her knee and rested her chin to her fist to watch them. She'd missed things like this. Being away from the farm and tucked behind stone in the city had deprived her. Just to catch a glimpse of something so pure without the interruption of a crowd was a little treat she looked forward to indulging in more now. It was then she noticed that she had unknowingly sat on the dock in such a way that it left a space beside her large enough to be occupied by someone else. A subconscious action, one she'd caught herself doing a lot more lately. Seemingly innocuous and even insignificant at first. But the more she noticed it, the more she started to try and imagine who would sit there. What type of person would lower beside her and share in such a moment? "So...who?" Relad had asked her during the conversation earlier that evening. "That is the question..." she mumbled to herself, tapping the soft edge of the quill's feather along her jaw. She wasn't exactly sure who fit the mold of her desires yet. She'd never been interested in anyone in her life. It isn't that she didn't have the capacity to be attracted to someone, more that she'd never allowed herself the luxury of trying. While finally expressing her wants to her brother for his blessing certainly lifted a long seated weight from her, it added an entirely new one as well. Expressing it had only increased the desire and fear surrounding the prospect of finding someone. Though, in truth, that wasn't the only thing she was afraid of. She bowed her head once more, scrawling away. "I hesitate to admit to anyone else other than Relad just how afraid I am of this though. Though...I would never tell him that part of that fear is leaving him and Rori. I've grown so accustomed to living and thriving with them that the idea of taking on such a change is daunting, no matter how much or how long I have pined for it. There is so much uncertainty. What if I don't find anyone? What if I do and I get hurt? Relad said I am a lot. And that he wants me to find someone who can handle me. Which, at first, hurt a bit to hear. But he's not wrong, I can be quite a lot when I open up. I haven't truly given anyone the chance to see all of me other than my family. I told him I have a genuine fear that if I bloom for someone else, they'll see me in my full glory and turn tail. I believe that's a universally shared anxiety. Though there is another fear...the most pressing one..." Revekka paused, subconsciously pressing the hand with the quill to her lower belly. She fought back a fresh wave of warm tears that threatened to spill, sucking in a breath like that would force them back in. No one but her family knew of her sickness; the one that had stolen what she considered a piece of her feminine value. One that her mother insisted didn't make her any less of a woman. Yet she'd heard so many men in her time speak ill of women who could not bear children. What worth would she have if she could not produce a blood son for any man willing to court her? She could vividly recall the day she first felt the indescribable pain. It rendered her incapable of gathering from the garden that morning. She and her mother had both assumed it was because her bed had a dip toward the center. Though, even after it was repaired by their neighbor, the pain persisted. It crept its way forward until she could only lay in agony, clutching at her belly like she expected some beast to burst from her skin. The healer had called it "suffocation of the womb" and told both her and her mother that there was no cure. The only way to alleviate the pain was to render it magically inert, suspended in perpetual dysfunction. It would rid her of the pain, but nothing could change the inevitable fact that she could not get pregnant. Mother had held her for hours while she cried. Revekka had so many daydreams about becoming a mother herself someday. She'd admittedly romanticized the idea of pregnancy. The gift every woman is given to bring life into the world--except for her now it appeared. To safely house and nurture innocent soul that would someday come into the light and meet eyes with her. Her Mother had told her stories of when she and her brothers were born. The love she'd felt upon first meeting them. Revekka wanted that. Not for the novelty, but the meaning. The purpose. She wanted to show a child the kind of love her Mother had given her, to pass it on. To share that experience. Knowing then that she never could, at least in the way she'd always thought of, damn near broke her. She'd gone through a period of denial. One that separated her from her family despite never leaving their home. She'd detached completely for a time, milling about like a construct going through the motions. It took some time and multiple visits from the healer before the pain finally ebbed into a subtle pressure that never quite went away. Yet, even then, the hole in her chest stayed. She dipped her quill, nearly knocking the well over with how her hand shook at the memory, and began to write once more. "No one tells you about the kind of grief one feels when they're told that something so fundamental to life is barred from them. No one tells you how badly you'll want it when you're told it will never happen." She paused again, sniffling softly as she wiped her nose on her sleeve. She worried her lip with her teeth, looking back at the ducks that had been happily embracing along the water. They seemed so happy, despite having no little ones struggling to keep up like some others. But at least they had the option. She assumed, anyway. The universe did not suffer birds this malady, she hoped. "I know there are other ways. I do. I would be blessed to adopt a child who needs a loving family and home. But it does not cushion the blow of having something taken from me before I ever had the chance to try. It does not wipe away the unfairness of it. It does not explain to me why it happened. The never knowing why it was me that was handed that fate has haunted me for years. I'd often wondered what I did to deserve it. Though, Mother insists I did nothing. That sometimes nature is hard, cruel even. I found myself angry at her for that. She described it as cruel. But how could she ever truly know the feeling while she spoke to living proof that she would never understand? I felt it to be audacious at the time. But I've softened since then. She only meant to comfort me. While I scolded Relad for even suggesting any noble man would entertain the idea of courtship, I would refuse any that tried. I'm not blind to what emperors and kings want. They want a blood line. And I cannot give that to them. No. I would be setting myself for far more than just the pain of rejection. If any noble were to somehow deem me worthy of a seat beside them, I'd be risking shame. Not just to myself but to him. Whoever he may be." For a moment, she slammed the journal shut. She hadn't picked at this wound for a while. But it was hard for it not to be at the forefront. While finding love wasn't the central theme of the new chapter she hoped to pen for herself, she wasn't blind to the fact that she had wanted to find it badly. She refocused herself, sitting up straight with her hands clamping at the spine of the journal to tuck it against her belly. She took one deep breath, then another, doing what she always did. Shoving it away. It was much harder to do then. More than it had ever been before. Perhaps because instead of turning away from it, she would have to look it dead on and accept it. Revekka never could quite accept it. Tolerate it, perhaps. Acknowledge that it was what she had been told. But acceptance was final. While it was as real of a fact as the color of the sky, to accept that this was the straw she drew in life would make it fully real for her. In a way that no one else would ever truly be able to understand. Which meant she'd have to tell anyone who chanced a heartbeat of affection for her. She refused to lead someone on with the hope that one day it would be possible to conceive. So, she'd have to grit her teeth and be up front should the subject arise. The feeling that arose at the prospect made her feel as though she were about to fall off a cliff. Perhaps that's what Relad meant when he said he hoped she would find someone who could handle her. That he didn't want her to make someone's life easier. In that moment she realized he was right. Anyone worth their salt would need to glare down the arrow point of her pain and love her anyway. She opened her eyes and loosened the iron grip she'd put on the binding. She looked down to see fresh grooves in the leather. With a small exhale, she stood up a moment to head back inside out of the chill. Once the door shut behind her, she cradled herself onto one of the seats near the fire pit just inside, propping the journal onto her knees. She did not open it again for a time, instead leaning back to stare at the ceiling. Outside of the fear of rejection, the loathsome barrenness of her womb, and the fact that she had zero prospects to begin with, there was another set of teeth gnawing at her awareness. She had no idea what she wanted to do with her life. "You're a strong woman." A common compliment from Relad. She was. She is. But strength in its many forms isn't necessarily a skill she wants to flex. After following him into the guard, spending life as a farmer's daughter, and willingly trudging through animal refuse day in and day out, she found herself aching for the kind of peace she felt whenever she daydreamed. "Most importantly, I must figure out who I choose to be. I have been so much for everyone else. But who is Revekka, really? Beneath the shyness, the smears of dirt on my brow, and the strength, what am I? Maybe if I did, I'd come up with a more decent plan than just..." Then it hit her. She sat up in her seat and looked around as though expecting someone to be standing there to nod in agreement. To back up such an idea. She quickly checked her pouch to count the Mina she had on her person. Followed by her eyes lifting to the ceiling to mentally calculate what she had in the bank. A plan. Something feesible. If there was anything to be said about Revekka, it's that when she finally put her mind to something she wanted, she would get it. That is, if fear didn't step in front of her first. In some cases, she didn't allow a breath of space for that to happen. And this, it seemed, was one of those moments.

Revekka really should have left when Relad didn't answer the door... Instead of listening to the screams. The sobs. The cyclical ramblings of grief, misplaced regret and remorse. But no, she stayed for far too long. No one should have to hear their own brother like that. Then again, she wished he'd never have had to feel this way in the first place. She stood in front of Relad's door for what felt like an eternity even after he'd gone silent. She didn't even know how long her fist hovered over the worn wood of his door before she finally lowered it to her side. Slowly, she descended the stairs to floor just below and made her way to her own room. As soon as she sat herself at her desk, Revekka dragged her palm down her face. She hadn't noticed her own tears until she felt the dampness, pulling her hand away to inspect the sheen between the lines. Over the last ten years of her life, she'd lived so comfortably. And it was all thanks to him. Their lives had been so askew for so long, and coming here to Norland brought a lot of clarity into an otherwise dappled and unclear path. Yet now a single moment had cracked her perception; a moment that had nothing and yet so much to do with her all at once. Lorenna...she'd never met the woman. She'd only known as much as Relad told her. And Revekka was never one to pry. Their relationship had been so...tumultuous when they were younger. Nowadays, though, since the three Orison siblings had reunited, she found she had a heavy amount of respect for Relad that sat comfortably with the kind of love only a sister could possess. Relad was, to her, a far better role model than their father had been. She barely knew the man. In their father's absence, Relad, even at his most impulsive and reckless, was held on a pedestal and he didn't even realize it. A pilar of strength in their home. She'd never seen him so... Broken. That shook her more than she'd ever let him know. She'd seen him survive so much, she'd seen him scared and even in a great state of unease but...Never this. To see, or rather hear, a man who had endured balancing on the thread between life and death so many times only to continue on unphased tear apart his own room and sob prayers to the Allfather... Revekka shoved her chair back and rummaged through her cupboard for her journal. She hadn't written in it for some time now. Mostly because she'd been keeping herself busy with Relad. For Relad. She wanted to make him proud, so she'd been devoting as much of her time as she could to training for her new position. Yet, in moments like these when her thoughts spilled so heavily, she needed a place for the ink to fall. As she sat back at her desk, she listened. There was some movement above, a rustling from Rori's room next door, Tazusko going down into his room downstairs, the persistent chuff and baa from the sheep outside her window, but no more of the anguish. At least not right now. Quill to ink, tip to page, she began to write... "I ache for Relad's pain. Not once before have I seen him so distraught. And I'm at a loss of what to do. With myself. What to do for him. I have no solutions. There is always a solution, that is what mother used to teach me. Yet here, I'm lost. How do you mend a wound so deep that it never truly stopped bleeding? No needle and thread can close this. My shock cannot hold a flame to his, I know this. Yet I cannot understate the affect it's having. It is no small pebble in a pond. This is a boulder that has disrupted the pond so profusely the splash has nearly dried it out. The boulder is what occupies the space now. Heavy. Unmoving." She stopped a moment, the quill was losing its ink. As she dipped it, the shutters of her window slammed open, startling her to yelp and drop the quill, spattering ink over some of the page enough to make her curse and instinctively wipe at it. Which only made it worse. Her palm became black, holding a sheen against the light as she grimaced at it. As she stood, she loosely shook it as if it would erase the stain before catching the flapping shutter with that same hand. While she caught the other and prepared to close them again, she suddenly caught a glimpse of the world outside. Rain poured down in sheets as it so often did, obscuring any trace of sun. Sprinkles of it caught her knuckles and the wind forced a chill into her bones, yet she stayed a moment to just observe. To look at the world she became a part of what seemed a lifetime ago. The city wall placed a sharp stone line below the horizon and the forests beyond. So unlike where they'd grown up, but she'd gotten used to it. She'd gotten used to a LOT in fact...for her brothers. Mostly for Relad. He'd worked so long for the last ten years to provide for her and Rori. He'd sacrificed much to the point she found herself doing as much for him in return as possible. To the point she became his constant shadow, following him and sticking close. Afraid to leave his side for fear he'd assume her ungrateful. Many times she'd stood in this exact spot, staring out past the wall with a yearning she pressed down under duty and obligation. Any fanciful daydreams that dared cross her mind were flattened under the weight of the devotion she had for her family. Now more than ever she felt the need to silence them. No matter how much louder they'd suddenly become. He needed her. At least that is what she told herself. A pale comfort to contrast the pain of wanting things she believed she could never have. At last, she closed the shutters and returned to her spot in front of the blackened journal page. The smear curved just under the previously written words, shockingly not obscuring them. Rather, it created a sort of crescent beneath her heartbroken musings. Everything in her screamed at the slight of the sharp black against the pale ivory of the page, ruining the clean canvas her words were meant to occupy. She couldn't erase it, couldn't wipe it away. But her hand, that she could at least scrub. She did, snatching the towel from her wash basin and dousing it in cold water. She scrubbed her palm with it, glaring at the ink stain. She found herself twitching an ear to the air, listening for him again as the towel bled ebony from her skin. The ink had settled into the fine lines of her palm enough that she had to press the fabric harder, painfully so, just to get them clean. As the larger sections of the ink began to give way to the pale peach of her skin, she calmed a little. Barely. When she sat once more, she picked up her quill and cleaned its tip before re-dipping it into the ink well again. She frowned down at the besmirched page, but pressed quill to parchment again. "I find myself unwilling to accept that maybe there's nothing I can do in this situation. How can there not be? A good laugh and a tight hug is barely a dressing for such a wound. I find it hard to sit here and not barrel down the door. But what good would it do? All he would see is someone looking on him with pity, and he doesn't need that right now. No. I will give him space tonight and settle for making him breakfast in the morning. That is, of course, assuming he will eat. If he won't, I will do my best to make him do so. I can't just let him starve. Gods, the screams...If I never hear Relad utter a sound like that again, I'll lay my head on the pillow of my deathbed a happy woman. Death...I must admit it's a concept I rarely dwell on. At least when it comes to me. Were Rori or Relad to pass on I don't know what I'd do. I can scarcely imagine what this is doing to him. To believe someone dead only to learn they're a ghost of themselves is...something I can't even begin to wrap my own head around. Maybe I never will. Maybe that's a blessing. If there is a way to help him find her, perhaps, I am more than willing to do so. Until a clear path forward for him is laid out, here in purgatory I will sit. I will perform my duties, I will shear sheep and I will feed chickens and I will guard the city. Just as I have been. Just as I will tomorrow, I'm sure. I'll do these things to try and wash this hopelessness from under my skin. I just want..." So many things have followed that sentence in previous entries of that very journal. 'I just want to make him proud.'. 'I just want to do something worth while.' 'I just want to make new acquaintances and friends without making a fool of myself.' 'I just want to make something good of myself.' But in that moment, she had no idea what to add. There were too many thoughts scrambling for dominance at the tip of her quill. Her eyes moved to that smear again just above the fourth paragraph of her entry. "I just want..." 'To wipe away that ******* stain...' "I just want..." That's when it hit her, gently and silently. Like a hand quietly clasping at her shoulder for attention. She's never truly known what she wants without attaching those desires to her family. She'd always followed her mother's example, done everything in her power not to be like her father, and subsequently followed her older brother around like a pup trying to emulate and become all of the great things he had with very little success. And all it took for that to settle in was to watch the one person she idolized most become more human than she'd ever seen him. Watched him crack under the weight of spending a decade working hard to honor someone, to provide for others, and believe it had all been in vain. Did she truly want to spend her life doing so much for everyone else and never for herself to the point of madness...? How long would she sit idle, trailing behind someone else instead of taking a leading step forward for her own life? If something were to happen to Relad...at this point what would it do to her? If she ever left, what would it do to him? "I just want..." There was no way to wipe away the stain on the page. All she could do was finish that sentence, sign her name, and shut the journal before wiping at her eye with the heel of her previously blackened hand. She stowed it away in a new spot this time, almost ashamed of what she'd put. She didn't want Relad to find it somehow and see. Not that he'd ever looked. Not that she noticed, anyway. Even if he did, she knew deep down it'd be hard for him to read. That fact never settled the knot her words created in her stomach. After stowing it away, she settled herself into bed and stared at the ceiling. Still listening. Thinking far, far too much for her own good now.