i can still hear the falcon's cry

tagged by: @aronessa <3

there are moments when the weight of what she has lost 𝖇𝖊𝖈𝖔𝖒𝖊𝖘 𝖙𝖔𝖔 𝖒𝖚𝖈𝖍 𝖙𝖔 𝖇𝖆𝖗𝖊. she had spent what felt like a lifetime grieving the loss of a husband: first in spirit, then in death. and yet that grief seems now more manageable than the horror that faces her every waking hour. the extent to which her house has fallen, and it has fallen, still unknown to her looms like a great cloud over her. during the day, her thoughts are filled with the fate of the golden orchard, of her brother. in the night, she is haunted by the face of primus tachonis, great ghostly hands reaching across the sky to find her, to turn her into something unholy.

all of this lives within her upon the road, though she shares her fears with no one. except for her eyes, great green and golden pools of weeping, she is a mask of motherly love. not even julian, who in his own grief has turned to fussing over her when he is not stalking the shadows, does she let in. but there is only so long one can hide how deeply terror has gripped them. and in a moment where she is meant to be alone, back pressed against the bark of a tree far away from camp, aranessa lets herself fall apart.

she does not know how long she has been crying before thaisha finds her, she only knows that when arms wrap around her frame, she collapses into them. slowly, as thaisha repeats over and over again, ' you are safe. i am here. just breathe ', aranessa begins to find herself again. blinking away tears, she pulls back from her companion, eyes fixed on some spot in the distance. " forgive me, thaisha. i don't know what came over me. everything is happening so quickly, i forgot myself. " / @aramans.

“ none of that, ” she shakes her head, thick curls bouncing with the motion. “ not with me, all right? ” she does not need to hide it for thaisha's sake. none of the pretenses aranessa has grown to follow, are expected to apply in this situation. the thing with losing everything is that it allows space for new things to grow. but that is not something thaisha will speak out loud at this time. not until she thinks arenessa will be ready to hear it.

He shook himself and jumped off the wagon after her, leather boots silent as cat paws on the cobblestones. 

“I do not doubt you could, my lady,” cheeky bastard, even as his eyes were focused and business-like, the arrogant grin remained, unapologetic. “In case we get separated, we’re making our way up to—” he stopped in his tracks, a soldier’s instinct and mistrust kicking in. Already celebrating a victory that still wasn’t there.

Julien’s hand set on Mayali’s shoulder, still careful not to trigger her fight instincts, and nodded towards an alley, they were too exposed on the street. 

“I need to ask you something before I disclose our plans to you or arm you for that matter,” he explained in a hush voice as they slipped into the darkness. “I need to know it’s you.” 

He could have kicked himself. He hadn’t thought of asking Azune for a question such as he had offered Mayali, they needed to know it was her. It all felt too easy, too good to be true. His mind scrambled through that conversation nights before, the little gems of memory he had given him, anything he hadn’t already given to her or couldn’t have been easily guessed by an interrogator. Bolaire’s keen questions towards Teor’s brother came back to him, something personal but unimportant.

He remembered upon seeing Azune’s braided charm, how simple it had looked. The kind of thing others might overlook as worthless. Would she even know he had that?

the request wasn’t that outrageous, after all he had shared information only azune would have known to make sure she believed this knight was send by her brother. it was almost oddly protective. not of her, but of her brother. that was something she needed to dig in once their lives weren’t on the line. how had her brother earned that kind of devotion from a man formerly sworn to a noble house was beyond her.

“i can’t believe he still has it,” she breathed, having one specific item in mind. they had nothing to take on the road with them when they left home but the clothes on their back, and each other. except for one very specific thing. and if the man knew about, she didn’t doubt their close relationship. “i liked to weave with threads as a kid, and i had made a bracelet for myself. it was colorful, with red, orange, yellow, blue and purple threads like our eyes.” her grandmother had first taught her how, and had shown her how memories could be woven in beautiful tapestries and fabrics to be preserved as they passed down generations. “one day, i gave it to azune because he was upset and told him that as long as he wore it and no matter how far away i was, he would not be alone.”

a single tear run down her cheek but mayali made no move to wipe it, instead she reached for a necklace tucked under her own armor and revealed in the low light of the alley. “i redid it after we got separated with whatever threads i could find. hoping that if i wore one too, my words would somehow come true, and that we’d both survive.” the colors were different, as she was able to use only what was left of the clothes she wore that day, but the pattern of weaving was the same.

“Easy,” slowly he showed the palms of his hands, carefully placing the rapier on the wagon’s floor. “Perhaps you should know Royce is no more, and I’m not here on their behalf. Azune sent me.” He let the name settle between them for a second so it was clearly understood. “Your name is Mayali, yes? You’re Azune’s older sister. One year older to be exact. He said… you would run for hours in the fields near your home, and you always brought a blanket for him because he didn’t like the sensation of the grass.” That memory quietly came back to him, Azune’s dreamy expression, full of bittersweet yearning for a past long gone, held in his arms as he bared his heart to Julien. They were so alike this woman and his love, a harsher life perhaps, but the same sunset eyes that almost made him dizzy when paired with such a withered expression. It put so much of what Azune had told him in a far too tangible perspective. 

Tentatively, he placed his hand over the blade, not pushing it but asking for it to be lowered. 

“Azune sent me to find you, I am here at his command. He said to tell you: Remember.” The last word was spoken in his best approximation of navikaan. He and Azune had sat for hours, repeating the same word over and over until he got it right, not an entirely easy task with Julien’s own accent stumbling him through every syllable. But it seemed important to this plan, crucial even. That Mayali understood he had not just heard it in passing, but was able to reproduce it as close as possible to Azune’s own voice.

apparently, that wasn't all he'd given her. because here they were, offering her freedom in the form of a former, if his words were to be believed, royce knight. she wasn't sure if she believed him entirely. there was a lot of powerful magic in this world. the argosians had used a way to turn the timmonish king's allies against him. the houses had sorcery that could penetrate thoughts. perhaps they'd used that on her little brother in their attempt to track her down. but she knew the kind of arrogance people like them had, and she didn't think that was a memory any of them would deem to be of importance. but her little brother would, for all the afternoons he curled up at her side tired after a day of play. her expression softened and tentatively she lowered the blade.

she was proven right, because his next words rewarded her. inxolotle. sunset eyes shifted shut, as a mist pooled in his eyes. the cadence was so close to azune's despite the different accent. even if it was all a ruse, then... if there was anything to lead her to death, may it be her brother's memory. mayali didn't realize that she had repeated the word under her breath.

the following words pulled her back to the present, and a away from memories that felt like they happened a lifetime away. “i can manage if you lead the way.” she said, without as much bite as before. her body ached, but it was nothing like she hadn't done before. her grip was tight despite the restraints leaving her fingers bruised. she didn't smile, she hadn't smiled for many many years, but there was a glint in her eyes that mirrored her brother's. “so that's what he's saying behind my back?” it was almost foreign on her tongue, the kind of teasing they would've traded before everything turned to fire and ash. she'd ask for his well-being later, when there was time.

dialogue.

i will kill you or you will kill me. or we will destroy each other.

you’re a materialist, like all ignorant people.

i’m not asking you to. i don’t even want you to.

they drive me as an ox to slaughter.

no one, not even you, can require me to justify my acts.

tell me all about it, but make sure you tell me the truth.

i own that i thought of myself, at times, almost as dead.

an angel is often only a demon who stands between us and our enemy.

do you know you are very handsome?

you're a soldier, then. i thought so.

there was a time when you told me i was not death.

everything was a relic. all the world was a relic.

there is no category of human activity in which the dead do not outnumber the living many times over.

so you knew i was here all along.

you think that time is a single thread. it is a weaving, a tapestry that extends forever in all directions.

i didn’t say i wouldn’t hurt you.

it must be a terrible thing to move backward in time, and still more terrible to pass backward through death.

it’s been a long time since i was here last.

you need not feign sympathy. it suits you badly.

when the fire dies, you die too.

i can fight better than most of them, and i’m sick of being called a whore.

instead of unmasking your face, you must unmask your spirit.

we take no delight in what we do, except in doing it well.

you think whatever is wrong with you is contagious, then?

i am a butcher of men.

you must have killed all the worst parts of your own being.

you have no power over me, neither you nor they.

the stars got brighter, didn't they?

we should be friends then, you and i, as two of similar background usually are.

i’m never completely at ease amongst crowds.

you are the advocate of the dead.

even the powers of heaven find it necessary to employ devils.

he is ironstrong in some ways, weak in many others.

to drink is to live, to be bathed in water is to have a new birth.

courtesy, i fear, demands that you enter first.

i ought to have killed you, that night when you slept in my bed.

so now you know all, and you have me where you want me.

to name is to call. that is the law.

is all the world a war of good and bad? have you not thought it might be something more?

we are almost what you think us — powers from above the stage. only not quite deities.

action. switch sender and receiver's places as you please.

hunker. the sender and receiver are forced to shelter in a meager cottage at nightfall. something is just outside, circling the home.

trudge. the sender and receiver are forced to travel through a difficult mountain pass.

wield. the sender carries the receiver’s favored weapon for them.

goodbye. the sender does not follow the receiver, revealing that they no longer wish to accompany them.

vivimancy. the sender and receiver find themselves inexplicably drawn to a specific grave, as if called by the corpse itself.

taste. the sender tastes the food before them, proving to the receiver that it’s not poisoned.

greet. the sender kneels before the receiver and kisses their fingers.

serve. the sender brings a drink to the receiver, who has taken a moment for themself in an alcove.

defenestration. the sender pins the receiver against the ledge of an open window, threatening to push them out of it.

shroud. the sender blows out the last candle, plunging them and the receiver into darkness.

lunge. the sender dives at the receiver with a melee weapon, only for the receiver to block the hit with whatever is on hand.

thorn. the sender plucks splinters out of the receiver’s skin.

breakout. the sender comes to rescue the receiver and free them from a prison cell.

rinse. the sender and receiver wash at a riverbank.

log. the sender writes about the day’s events in their journal while in the receiver’s company.

“i don't think you realize how much people notice you.”

“you don't seem particularly trusting. then again, maybe neither am i.”

“you have a habit of appearing at interesting moments.”

“you strike me as someone who trusts their gut. am i wrong?”

“i've noticed you always leave before everyone else.”

“i think you enjoy keeping people guessing.”

“you seem restless.”

“it's strange how you can be surrounded by people and still feel alone.”

“have i ever told you that you're difficult to read?”

“you look like you haven't slept.”

“you know this place well enough that i'm starting to wonder if you've always lived here.”

“do you ever worry about the kind of person you're becoming?”

“i've known a lot of people. none of them were quite like you.”

“i can't decide whether people truly change, or if they just become better at hiding parts of themselves.”

“i had the strangest dream last night. do you remember yours when you wake up?”

“the more i get to know you, the more i keep noticing little similarities between the two of us.”

“i didn't realize you'd remember that.”

“most people seem uncomfortable with silence. i never minded it much.”

“you seem to know more than you're saying.”

“you seem comfortable on your own. i wonder if that's the same thing as never feeling lonely.”

“do you always look this serious?”

“you're easier to talk to than i expected.”

“i've always thought trust is harder to earn than people pretend.”

“you always seem to be watching.”

“i think you've been avoiding me.”

“you're not at all what i thought you would be.”

“whenever i ignore my instincts, i end up regretting it. what about you?”

“i wasn't expecting to run into you again.”

“i can't tell if you're someone who enjoys solitude or just tolerates it.”

“i know it sounds childish, but i can't help believing some people are meant to find one another.”

“you make a terrible liar.”

“you don't strike me as the sort of person people forget.”

“i think people underestimate you.”

“i can't decide whether you're charming or frustrating.”

“i don't think i've seen you smile before.”

“i wasn't sure you'd come.”

“it's a little strange. i think i've started looking forward to seeing you.”

“sometimes i wonder if we ever really know anyone.”

“you're surprisingly good company.”

“i think most people would like to believe they're good. i'm not sure it's always that simple.”

“i think being truly understood is a far rarer thing than people realize.”

“i don't usually tell people this...”