#darra

And here's another :D

Tapestry commission for @choilacanth !

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The hills of Braiferden were bone-white as they came into view, its earth fertile and corpse-fed, and at the heart of it, a very old house, leaning in the wind. Nate had not come home for a very long time. His interactions with Darra were limited to petty swipes across a council table and sharp glares in ornate corridors, because that was manageable. He could manage Darra when they were both dressed in the finery of Kusig surrounded by a building that held no memories for them. He could handle him unfamiliar. But here, at the Old House where Nate had been raised for so many years, he trembled in the face of his adolescence. Darra was the man who had peered into the future with unblinking eyes and consciously decided to let it pass unhindered, but here, he was also the man who always had the kettle boiled before Nate even walked in, who wiped jam from Nate’s chin even when Nate would snarl, who wordlessly left more blankets outside Nate’s door on cold nights.  

He had been a child in front of Darra, and he could never forgive himself for that. 

Nate did not knock when he reached the door of the Old House, despite the strange hesitance that grasped him. He had never knocked before, never needed to – he belonged here. But it had never before felt so much like Darra’s house instead of their home, and he didn’t want to award the other man that distinction. 

Everything looked the same. The same floorboards creaked underfoot, the same patch of wall was exposed to reveal thick roots between the insulation, the smell was still that of woodsmoke and pastries. But nothing was the same. When Nate turned into the kitchen, Naithan would not greet him with a boisterous shout, shoving a scone into his face and insisting he eat, that he was far too skinny and had been gone too long. When Nate walked forward, the sound of the door closing behind him would not insight a stomping from above as Faucis flew down the stairs, grinning from ear to ear and promptly slipping down the last three steps. 

The house was silent. Lifeless.  

Darra was sat at the kitchen table with two mugs of tea, gaze expectant. 

“You knew I was coming,” Nate said. 

Darra fidgeted. “I made you tea.” 

“I don’t want tea.” 

Nate stilled in the doorway a moment, and had the brief, childish thought to run to his room, slam the door, and avoid this conversation altogether. He knew with a sickening certainty that, for all they had done in the war, Darra would have left Nate’s room completely untouched. Gi's was the same, though she had the evidence of actually having visited the Old House several times since the war’s end. Lilla would never stay from Darra long. Her forgiveness had been quick. Faucis had been like a little brother to her, but she truly believed he could not have been saved, that their grief was an equal thing. 

Gi had taken longer. Naithan meant something to her that none of them had shared, something Nate knew only from his short years with Kawl. She had not forgiven Darra, but had eventually offered understanding. It was the kind of rationale divorced from emotion that made Gi so brutally efficient, but it had felt like a betrayal all the same. Nate wasn’t used to standing without her. 

He imagined them as three children before three brothers, and of each of them, so good, so selfless, it was no more than Darra left behind, the vilest of his brothers, and Nate as the last child to come home. 

He took a seat at the table. The chair wobbled a little. They usually put wads of cloth beneath the shortest leg to keep it steady, but that had been Naithan’s job, something Darra would never think to do, and now, Nate’s world tilted. 

“The girls want us to find a common ground,” Nate said cooly, slouching back in his chair. “I know Lilla has spoken to you.” 

He couldn’t even glare at Darra, merely regarding him with steel eyes, unfeeling, taking in bedraggled hair and the large jumper the other man wore that completely drowned his skeletal frame. If it was possible, Darra looked worse than usual. 

“She has,” Darra said, tapping dirty nails on the table. “As Giwella has spoken to you, and now you’re here. I-I put some sugar in. You used to like that when you were younger, whenever we had any to spare.” 

Nate frowned. “What?” 

“The tea,” Darra urged, pushing the mug forward. “The tea, for you.” 

A sudden, burning rage spiked through Nate, and he lashed out, smacking the tea off the table and revelling in the horrible crash it made as it shattered on the floor. Darra flinched violently but was not surprised. Nothing Nate did could surprise him, and it made him desperate. 

“Shut up about the bloody tea!” Nate snapped. “Just shut up!” 

Darra sighed. Disappointed. Familiar. Nate's lip curled. 

“Your brothers are dead,” he hissed, leaning forward. “Naithan told you he trusted you, and you sent him to die. Faucis was tortured. He bled out and I had to hold him through it, and you knew. You knew all of it, all along. You knew.” 

“And you ensured Faucis’s death meant nothing,” Darra whispered. “You slaughtered the Skelfornes, to punish me, to nullify the choice I made. Does that make you innocent, Nathairan?” 

Nate couldn’t help himself; he laughed. A cold, cackling sound, tearing a hand through his hair. 

“That’s it, isn’t it?” he choked out, still laughing. “That was always it. Always Nathairan. I was always a monster to you, wasn’t I?” 

Darra looked startled then, a prey look in his shining eyes, blinking sporadically. “You were just so angry...” 

“I scared you.” 

“You did.” 

He hadn’t expected the admission. He'd known it, even as a boy he’d known it, but to hear it said shattered something in Nate, and before he could recover himself, he looked brokenly at Darra, unabashedly devastated, a little boy swinging his feet back and forth, learning about wisers from a man who shared his rage. He'd thought Darra was magnificent, once. 

The shattered porcelain lay at Nate’s feet, the tea slowly staining the wood. When he spoke, his voice was weak. 

“Have you always hated me?” 

Darra's hands trembled when they came into his line of sight, and he carefully, as if scooping up a wounded animal, reached for where Nate’s hands were curled in his lap. When Nate didn’t smack him away, the other man intertwined their fingers, squeezing purposefully. They had both always had such cold hands, and Nate hunched over a little, as if sheltering this quiet moment of unity. 

He couldn’t see Darra’s small, sad smile. 

Name Aesthetic:

Darra

Muista aina varoa NesteHukkaa

As much as I enjoyed Kyra being the main protagonist I would’ve loved to see more about the other characters. Especially with Rusky and Lilly, I honestly felt like both of their stories relied a bit too much on boys (Lilly more than Rusky though). I would’ve also loved to see a romantic relationship develop between Taylor and Imogen, maybe it’s just my perception of things but it felt like that’s where their story was heading early on in season 2.

I’m not sure how popular this show is, but hopefully more people see this post.