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sylaesschasewind · 3 years

Text

A Little Piece

That laugh.

A shiver ran up her spine, twisting her shoulders with its violence.

Memory, dream, or hallucination? What a bitter game.

It seemed to echo in her mind. It really wasn't so hollow here to allow an echo; in fact it was too loud all around. The clatter of dishes. Wooden toys being scraped across the floor. Crashed together gently. The hum of casual, meaningless conversation. It sparked too much thought in her already strained mind. She knew it. Fleeting concern melted against the analytical side of thought.

Puzzles were a crux of hers.

So went the evening. She chased away the fog of memory with... What even was this? Some kind of brandy? Sylaess stared at the rim of the carved wooden cup, letting the flitting shallow thought pull her from the darkness.

Maybe. It burned all the same. She savoured it. Let her eyes half-close.

“Oh. Is it bad? Crap--let me get that.” His hand reached out for the cup before she knew what he was talking about. Caught her blinking in surprise. But she released her fingers around it, offering no resistance to its removal. “Huh. No, it wasn’t.”

Syl pulled her hand out of his reach, shaking her head slightly. The boy’s brow was knit again, big brown eyes flickering from each of hers in an attempt to read what she knew very well was a neutral face. Oh. Perhaps he was owed a small explanation? He fumbled with the cup a moment, pouring more brandy into it. Making his hands busy. Embarrassed? Perhaps.

“I was... lost in thought. My apologies.”

“Oh. Sorry.”

He looked chastised. Shit. She tugged her lips up in an attempt at a bemused smile. It worked enough to lessen his hurt. Loosen the tension in his shoulders just enough that he didn’t look afraid of being hit. Not that she had ever threatened such a thing, but she could understand that undeath carried a certain... reputation.

He shrugged helplessly, grinning back at her. That smile just a bit too bright as he put the cup down before her, and poured a sliver of drink for himself.

Dax. Sandy brown hair, bright hazel eyes glinting in the lamplight and a sharp nose. Well. It’d been broken before, judging by the lump on the bridge. Maybe it was never straight to begin with. But she suspected it had been.

Guilt. It attacked so carefully, like a shadow sweeping through. Sylaess cast her eyes away, down.

Noted the way his mother, thought she was minding the young girl that was toddling about with wooden toys had an eye on her. Wary as a cat, but with a friendly smile that didn’t touch her eyes. His father whittled at a block of wood. Concentrated, but in a relaxed manner. One that suggested he, too, was not all that relaxed. But it was still better than the first time they had caught up.

A deep sigh filtered through her nose.

Damn. Damn it. Why had she come back? This was a horrible mistake. The headache settled in on her like a crown. The slow, heavy thump of her own heartbeat reverberating distractingly. They were becoming too common. Nearly daily. Sometimes enough that she needed to take a step back, take a moment to collect herself.

That wouldn’t do on the battlefield. No. She shouldn’t think of dinner as a battlefield, either.

This was a dangerous distraction.

“Hey... If you don’t want to stay, I’m not holding you here. I know it's uncomfortable.”

She blinked again, putting away the baggage.

“Its not..” A deep sigh. “Hm.” She shook her head, stuffing a hand into the loose hairs at the top of her head. Tugging absently. “I didn’t intend to be so maudlin. Forgive me.” Softly spoken.

Two apologies in one night.

Daxius gave her a warm chuckle. “I guess so. Don’t worry about it.”

“Hey, how’s Stormwind? Everyone settling in alright?”

His mother was cutting her concerned looks from the counter. Shooting them when she thought no one would catch her. Brow knit, lips thinned, eyes tight with worry. Smart woman, honestly. Sylaess could empathize.

“I suppose. Lots of refugees still.”

It was the third time she’d tentatively taken the invitation to dinner with his family. Just as awkward as the first time. She’d stay just long enough not to be overtly rude. Just enough that he’d lose his worries and stop looking for her.

“Pay the price.”

It froze her like a knife to the throat. The slithering whisper.

Sylaess grunted softly, finishing the drink. Rising from her seat nearly silently. A ripple of concern and then the acceptance of departure peripherally on the parents’ faces released a lot of that hidden tension around her.

No, she needed to leave. She’d been here too long. Too many times.

“You going already?” Daxius, mild disappointment dampening his bright eyes. He hoped to glean something from her. Experience? Fighting tips? Something. It was silly, naive, and utterly innocent. Did he actually look up to her? Oh, what a mistake that was. Far past time she should have left. Like a sword hanging above her head, the threat was real, and imagined all in one. Tricky.

A quick half-bow, and she slunk out the door like a shadow. No need for words. They’d only take more time. Felt the silent sighs of relief from his parents. The fleeting curiosity from his little sister. The honest and mildly smothered hope from Dax. She knew she hadn’t succeeded in pushing him off. Not like this. There was a certain art to it, but she’d missed the mark heavily tonight. Shut the door on it carefully. Felt like closing a book. Wished bitterly it was that easy.

Brandy still flavoured her mouth as she stepped smartly away. Not rushing, but not dawdling. Away. Putting distance between the tiny little hamlet and herself. The warmth of the windows fading.

The sense of danger doesn’t fade.

Sylaess grimaces in the starlight to no one but herself. Breathes out a soft sigh, collecting herself. Pulling that warrior calm on again and again. A worn out garment if ever there was one.

No. There isn’t an escape from this.

“I call upon its radiance to expunge the evils that have gripped this elf!”

The struggle is worse than the fight in the surf. No blades needed. Hands slipping, losing grip faster than they can catch anything. Hair. Clothes. Armor. Flesh. The leather of her gauntlets creaks under the pressure, but the salt water seems to laugh in a burble, causing enough pressure to peel her fingers off like a handful of sand. It’s impossible to catch, but that doesn’t dull her efforts to hold it. The very same reason she didn’t make it as a mage.

The Knight doesn’t budge. Much. Some subconscious part of her witnesses her hands shaking with the effort of just standing in the cascade of Light. Her heart thumps wildly, the threads of power are--

Can she see them? Is this just her imagination to make sense of the calamity? It seems so surreal. Disconnected, somehow.

It isn’t her body anymore.

Is it?

She can hear Argonas continuing his chant. The words sonorously pouring from him just as burning as the conviction he holds in his heart. He fully believes. No--he knows the Light can save her. It's not a question. His devotion. His determination.

Sylaess wanted to scream. It wasn’t true! It couldn’t be true. The darkness at the edge of her eyes, seeping through the fiber of her being... The very ties to her unlife itself. All of it in shadow. All of it some form of...

Dark threads folded around her, unbothered by the absolute storm of Light. Reflexively, she clenched her hands as if holding them.

No; pieces fell away. Her face burned. Eyes felt blinded. But she could hear the calmness of that whispering voice in her shadows. The conviction of the Vindicator. The love he held.

Her damnation.

No; Argonas would be the best prize she could offer. More than enough in payment for the trivial gifts she asked for. She could see how it could end up. What path to take. What words to say. She wanted to laugh. Scream. Cry.

Surrender.

It would be so easy to fall back into the darkness. Let the shadow defend this... corpse. Let loose the weapon. Let go.

“Enough--!”

The sound of her own voice jerked her back to the present roughly. Heart thumping a wild rhythm in her chest, she hissed out a slow breath between clenched teeth and hurried on. It irked her on some level how choked she had sounded. How small.

The cobbles were always damp near the ocean. The smell of rotting seaweed and damp wood all bombarded her. Sounds of the city. Usually so unobtrusive. Not so much right now.

She had made it to the bridge into Kul Tiras. Guards eyed her with a mix of curiosity and alarm.

Couldn’t blame them.

The Acherian stepped it out, long legs eating up the distance. To where, though? Where could she run to?

She shook her head violently. It didn’t work to remove the feeling of the hooks in her skin. Paused on the bridge, looking out at the reflecting lamp lights on the waters. Rubbed her arms harshly. Maybe not warding off a chill, but the sensation brought some form of reality back to her. Comfort, if fleeting.

To say she missed Argonas deeply was a sad understatement.

It hurt. Vividly. But it had been necessary. Had his child been born? Was he still recovering from her betrayal? A quietly reverent hope pled that he had forgotten her, but she knew it likely wasn’t so.

She couldn’t stomach the threat to him. The last piece of a life she barely remembered, stoically friendly despite the odds. Wouldn’t. Refused it.

#sylaess #sylaess chasewind #argonas #whoops i forgot to post a bunch #here comes a landslide

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