#kydrine

As night fell, sleep was the last thing on her mind. Was it normal to be this out of breath? A fire ran rampant against every line of her body, pressing with a commanding force that she knew not how to release. All she could do was seek what measure of serenity was available to her -- to force deep drinks of air that slowed the thunder of her heart. What had drawn her to sprawl into a soft expanse of grass in Eversong was beyond her -- perhaps clutching for the remnants of a dream that had once brought her some measure of peace. The terra cotta shade of her tress was quieted by the absence of the sun, the fel glow of her optics in vibrant bloom against the shadow of night. Still, there was something decidedly soft about her gaze, obscured by the inked filaments of her lashes. Quicksilver tears were suspended against the royal shade of evening sky, observing silently as her chest inflated with another deep breath. Night time ambience was soothing in its way, even if the fear of nightmares usually had her dreading when the sun finally dipped behind the horizon. Blades of grass shifted gently with the passing breeze, tickling against her exposed arms, stretched lazily out to either side. It swept away remnants of the day as gently as a mother might steal her tired child to slumber. "Where is my quiet now?" The words spilled from her mouth into the cooling air, remainders of it remaining nestled into the dirt beneath her until it too was whisked away by the moon's chilled kiss. The sensation of the cold against her skin was a relief somehow -- excusing her fear of a numbness that wound itself across every milimeter of her skin and planted roots so deep she feared they might have begun to hungrily reach for her heart. Much too weak to resist, the instrument of her being had only just begun to recover and now, she felt the stinging sensation of her backslide. It was unwelcome, the way it clasped itself around her chest and quieted a hope she had been so grateful to see spark to life.

Shifting, her hands moved to gently meld around the soft swell in her abdomen, a tenseness began. It was born each time she found herself faced with the reality of her situation, and the mixture of uncertainty and nameless desire for whatever life stirred inside. As time passed this way, in her stillness, ease bled into her bones once more and she teetered between the world around her and the one that waited in the confines of her mind.  It did not take long for the fog to settle in, and to feel a distinct lightness as she surrendered her grasp on consciousness.

"Come sit with me, Sira."

Behind her lids, the faces were somewhat obscure, but there was peace in the air around the woman that spoke to her. It was infectious. Warmth invaded her from the inside out, and she was all too eager to oblige. "Yes, mama."  There was little to compare the safety she felt, perched in the woman's lap, peering up as she seemed to work with a piece of colorful fabric. "I like this one." Though she knew the voice to be her own, it seemed so strange and out of place somehow -- a trick of the mind, perhaps?

"You do?" The woman's voice was an inquisitive coo, stopping her work to gentle stroke the young girl's hair into neat wavy rivers between her shoulder blades. An eager nod was given in response to the question, and a light-hearted laugh spilled forth. "Well, then maybe I'll keep this one for you. What do you think?"

"What about -----?"  A name. What name? Did it matter? Though she found herself straining to construct the blurred syllables into something that made sense, it was nothing but a rapid loop in her head. Always returning to nothing. While her nightmares left her struggling to forget, these strange occurences left her ready to devour any detail she could manage to grasp.

"Oh yes. We musn't forget her, hm?" A smile was presented down to the small child in her lap, pride permeating gaze as she watched for a moment or two, captivated by her softness. "It'll be a surprise. From both of us." The excitement at her breast could hardly be matched; she was certain she might burst from it.

"Can I give it to her?" Young eyes were wide with awe at the concept, waiting expectantly for what she could only infer was her mother. It all seemed so very different -- not a creation of her dysphoric mind, but something more akin to dusting off pages she was certain she had lost. Even still, she had been working with blank pages so long, she was uncertain whether she could accept whatever magic all of this was.

"Of course, my love."

Time. What did it mean anymore? All she felt within herself with the acute pang of emptiness that’d come to be as much a part of her as the hollow thud of her heart against her sternum. She lived, and she desired to keep living for the purpose of finding her again – even if only for a moment. To spy her face and to know that she was well, that she too still survived the slicing of their bond. Ekosira had become a live wire, exposed and sparking with want and need for the other half of herself.

Kydrine and Solen would argue from time to time, but they grew hushed around her now, not wanting to destroy whatever thread kept their daughter from completely losing herself to the all-consuming void. She’d heard more than they probably knew, and though she only felt like a fragment of herself, her love for her mother grew for the crusade she had started on her daughter’s behalf.

You have to talk to her, she’d say. You have to make her come back, she’d plead. We have to work something out.

Solen wasn’t much of a father, but if ever there was a time he had tried for something, it was then. Despite Talira’s unpredictable nature, and the way she drifted through life as some volatile parasite, he had searched for her. Often times, tales of her would reach him in his search, but she always seemed to be just ahead of where he was. He’d always had such little patience, but for once he kept on trying.

Is it possible to experience withdrawal for the simple presence of someone?  Arsonya was gone, had been gone for days now. It was an adjustment that Ekosira was ill-prepared to make. Waking up in the morning without her there was difficult. In her sleepy haze, she would reach one hand over to her sister’s empty spot on the bed they once shared, and when her fingers were met with nothing, ice crawled up her digits and slowly burrowed into her chest. Suddenly, the beating of her heart was painful, pumping poison resentment and shards of sharp sorrow.

Many days came and went in this fashion;  she’d lost count. Kydrine continued about her tasks the way she always did, but there was no denying she noticed her daughter’s distress. It bled into the air through her empty stare and the dull tone of her voice when she was able to pry words free.  Attempts to engage her in conversation were mostly fruitless, and something about the girl looked as empty as she felt. She’d become a fragile husk of herself.  Eventually, her responses became nods or shakes of her head, because words cut her throat raw and welled tears in the corners of her eyes.  It was the acute feeling of genuinely missing someone, of mourning.

They tried, oh they tried. Kydrine would pass her fond touches and sometimes pull the girl into her lap. Eventually, she didn’t bother with conversation anymore but she never gave up. Even Solen attempted to console his daughter, having noticed her deflation despite how little time he spent at home. It was plain he wasn’t certain how to handle such a thing. It curled his lips into a defeated frown when she wouldn’t even look at him. His frustrated growling sighs solicited steely looks from his wife, at which time he would make his way out of the room without another word.

It was quiet.

The three of them waited in the largest room in the house, bathed in the soft pumpkin glow of fire light. He was due to be back hours ago, but he wasn’t. No one was surprised. They’d gotten used to broken promises. The only one who even fidgeted anymore was the small blonde girl situated in her sister’s lap. Ekosira’s young hands stroked through the girl’s hair softly as she squirmed lightly and made repeated glances toward the hallway that tapered to the door. From time to time, she would lock eyes with her sister questioningly, brows both rising the tiniest amount as if even that basic movement could disturb the fragile atmosphere. Ekosira’s lip drew between her teeth and she gnawed upon it gently with a slow shake of her head.

I don’t know.

She needn’t say it. It passed in the silence, thick and suffocating.  No one there ever really had the answer. He was simply out wandering. He was always out wandering. When she was younger, she didn’t understand it so well. Now,  it was common practice. Solen being present would be more strange than not – and this time, he’d chosen to take his mistress with him, it seemed. Talira was no where to be found, so instead it was simply the soft hum of her mother as her fingers passed over symbols she’d only just finished embroidering into cloth.

Though the two young girls looked similar, they only shared half of their blood – the wandering half. Too young to know when it had all begun, a mind forced to grow up too fast was able to assemble bits and pieces. They’d never really understand how it was that Kydrine remained so calm. How it didn’t shake her, or if it did it was only in private. The two women that their father did his dangerous dance with were entirely different. One was calm, collected – an iron woman with a fiery heart. The other was volatile, as explosive and dangerous as glycerine. It only took the slightest shake to provoke an explosion. Talira didn’t quite seem cut out for motherhood, but she had Arsonya anyway. The girl was an anchor, a chain – or a piece of leverage, depending on how the mood was on that particular day.