#jasku regulus

Not Every River by Bear’s Den. Sheleth’s heartbreak is over a relationship that she tried hard to maintain but failed nonetheless. This song emphasizes the efforts she made before she flew her white flag.

And I have followed you to the deltaDown every branch and tributaryAnd in the cracked earth of all my hopingWe’re gonna get there eventually

Not every river is gonna make itIs gonna make it back to the sea

Sheleth laid her long, lissome frame across the bed. Her week had been long enough to feel like a month: With two simultaneous Priory courses, a wedding in the planning stages, two part-time jobs, and a family to tend to, it was a wonder she hadn’t run herself to death. At the end of the evening she was tired enough to fall asleep in her clothes (which happened more than once).

The next three days belonged to her. As loathe as she was to be alone with her thoughts, she was spent. She was even tempted to remain in the basement for the whole of the three days just so work wouldn’t find her. All she wanted was to sleep, to bathe, and to read.

So the thoughts came on. She had been trying to avoid them; she knew they bore no truth. They came from stress and sadness, and sought to perpetuate themselves. They told her she was going to fail her classes, that she would never be of help to anyone (much less the person she wanted to help the most), and worst of all that Jasku didn’t truly want to marry her—if he did, wouldn’t they have wedded by now? Those were cowardly ideas that only slithered in when he wasn’t there. His presence dispelled all doubt that he loved her and had every intention to soon make her his wife.

On the nearby nightstand was a small wooden box. Rolling onto her side, she brought it beside her and turned it upside down to wind the crank. She righted the box, then flipped the latch and opened it. A tiny ballerina rose up on a shiny spring and began to twirl to the melody of the box’s chimes.

Sheleth smiled, remembering the day Jasku gave this to her. It was her fourteenth awakening day. He’d organized a scavenger hunt all throughout the Durmand Priory campus, bringing its dim, drab halls to life with excitement. The music box was only one of several very thoughtful gifts from that day.

It was strange to rest so much on something so small, but the little wooden dancer and her song made her forget her worries. Of course he wanted to marry her.

Thanks anon!

It wasn’t that she hadn’t been making the most of her time there. She spent her hours studying, and in spite of her predictions she had advanced in those studies quite a lot, even to the point of occasionally practicing. She’d become familiar with the safer parts of the city, too, and often spent her mornings having a pleasant cup of coffee with her new friend.

It wasn’t even that the weather bothered her. Certainly it was hot and unforgiving in the day and she had to be diligent about keeping herself a fire going through the night, but even with that she could contend with grace and a smile.

When she reflected on it, Sheleth truly didn’t know what it was. All she knew was that she was restless. She always felt far away from whatever she was doing, a foreign sensation she deplored. Some nights her thoughts would keep her awake and, unable to focus on her work or even take a walk, she’d pace the floor of her rented room back and forth, back and forth. To make matters worse the next day was always a waste.

She didn’t feel wholly safe there. Not like she did in the Grove. Prone to wandering, Shel had to take care for which alleys she took for fear that should she stray too far from the open some ill fate might befall her. Having to constantly guard her steps was a chore, and one that kept her from enjoying such outings.

Always on her mind was her wedding. Winter, she knew, would be taking hold over Garenhoff, and would delay that sorely sought ceremony for another several months. She nearly wilted in disappointment despite knowing there was little demand to rush it: The heart would not suffer to argue.

Worst of all were the thoughts of Jasku. She couldn’t say why exactly, but she feared for his life now more than she ever had before, perhaps because she was perfectly ignorant about where he was, what he was doing, or what he might be up against. To receive news of his death while stationed so far from their home was a thought that chilled her frozen. Though when he came to visit her these thoughts faded and her joy flourished again. With Jasku she again felt at home, she felt safe, and she felt whole and untroubled.

That made his departures far more difficult to stomach, sadly. He was a soldier; Sheleth knew it was her responsibility to keep his morale up. She’d do her best to sweep her heartbreak under the rug long enough for him to turn away—besides, he was the one in mortal danger. What had she to worry about, sheltered in civilization as she was?

Even so, he wasn’t blind to her struggles. Jasku knew her through and through; each time she had to let go of his hand he could tell her smile was for his sake alone. While he appreciated her efforts, he knew this was not the life he wanted for his intended wife.

When he last put his back to her he turned to find her looking forlorn. A few broad steps swiftly returned him to her whereupon he pulled her close, kissed her forehead, and vowed in a whisper, “I’ll make this worth it, Sheleth. I love you.”

It hadn’t been quite a year since she’d finished her studies, and—thoroughly outside the average, to be fair—they had taken her more than a decade to complete.

Architecture came as a natural interest. Balancing artsmanship, logic, and function provided a challenge she always felt rewarded to meet. But the Priory’s echoing halls and dusty shelves failed to prepare her for the world beyond.

Reality was less satisfying. Instead of designing museums, hospitals, and community centers, most often she found herself working with people whose coin purses weighed more than their heads. It hadn’t taken her long to realize her time had been ill spent. Sheleth was a philanthropist, and sketching out extravagant solariums and billiard rooms wasn’t helping anyone. I may as well have spent twelve years doing crossword puzzles, she thought, dejected.

The clashing of expectation and actuality had sown an uncharacteristic negativity into her thoughts. She felt ashamed and disappointed in herself, and the worst of all was the helplessness. She’d wasted all that time and still didn’t know how to do a damned thing that might actually come to anyone’s benefit.

She did her best not to think about it. When she couldn’t evade it she reminded herself it was no one’s fault. Even that had a hole in it, however: She shouldn’t have stayed in those libraries so long. She had wanted to be prepared. She’d had grand dreams of being the best in her field. To that effect she’d traded her time for nothing.

Accordingly she resolved to go back, this time for something both more useful and closer to home: If she couldn’t find a way to lift the atrophic curse on the man who was soon to be her brother, she would learn the methods to ease his discomfort.

Magic and medicine were two infinitely complicated fields, compared to architecture. She aimed to tackle them both at once to compensate for the bygone years and to hopefully deliver relief to Jasku and his blood as soon as possible.

Feeling her confidence falter Sheleth glanced toward where he stood, then took a breath. Though her mind in one moment sprinted with anxiety and unwelcome thoughts, his calm eased it all. She tapped her engagement ring against her cup, and, spotting its mate on Jasku’s finger, knew that this was the least of what she would do for him.

Following a night spent weathering indecision, worry, and temptation, she’d risen from her bed the moment a hint of dawn found her open eyes. Beyond a clumsily laced pair of boots she hadn’t even bothered to properly dress herself; her pajamas had to serve. As sure as she may have seemed in the eyes of an onlooker, she’d harried herself all the way to Garenhoff—but she’d gone.

“Sheleth!” Shel instinctively covered herself not half an instant before a second sylvari came bowling past the curtain.

“Corinna, please! I’ve told you not—”

“Oh, I’m sorry! I just get so excited. You know me.” Corinna ducked behind the curtain with a titter. “And you’ve been gone all day! What’s kept you so long? I’ve been on the verge of losing my mind to boredom.”

Sheleth pursed her lips as she pulled on her stockings, wondering how to phrase it delicately. Corinna was a notorious gossip. “I’ve been—”

Corinna interrupted her with a sudden gasp. “Was it that man you’ve been seeing? It was, wasn’t it! You can’t keep a secret from me. And you left in your underwear this morning! Mother’s love, Sheleth!”

“What?” She heard more edge in her voice than she’d intended to employ. “They were my pajamas. What is it you think I’ve been doing?”

“Come on! You can’t be serious. Shel, you’ve only just met him!”

“And?”

“And nothing! You can’t just go around...sleeping with every other stranger you meet!”

“The last I knew I was able to make my own decisions,” sighed Sheleth. “When did that change?”

“So you have! Sister,” crooned Corinna, “you know I’m only looking out for you.”

Shel advised, “Look out for yourself. And go to your classes!”

“But why in the world would you do that? I thought you didn’t!”

“I don’t.”

“You quite plainly do!” laughed Corinna, exasperated.

“I don’t. I’ve never done anything like this before.” Freshly bathed and fittingly clothed, Sheleth emerged from her pod house.

“Then why are you doing it now?”

“Because I love him.” It took all of Shel’s restraint not to clamp a hand over her mouth following such an admission. It was so clear and simple she’d uttered it without antecedent thought. She tensed a little, introspectively surprised, but maintained the facade that she’d said so deliberately.

Corinna, blindsided by such a scandal, was none the wiser. “What!”

She’d already assured the fact that by the time she got back the whole of the Grove would be buzzing like a beehive with talk of her concerns, all of it stretched beyond the realm of belief but treated with credence by many. “How is it less tolerable to love him than to have sex with him?” she deflected nonetheless.

The noonbloom didn’t buy it this time. “You love him! How long have you known him? When did you m—”

“Mister Regulus,” she articulated. If they were going to talk, they may as well get the name right. “Yes, I love him. Yes, I expect I’ll spend the night with him. Yes, I have only just met him. And no, I haven’t the time or the regard to care what anyone has to say about it.” Shel breezed past Corinna with her chin up and repeated over her shoulder, “Mister Regulus. Have a lovely evening, Corinna.”