#lyandiel

When she stepped inside she looked around. She’d always thought Cael’s bedroom was beautiful, with silk curtains hanging from the walls in rich blues and purples, gauzy cloth softening the light streaming in from the large window next to his bed. Unlike Lydianah’s, his bed was large; big enough for three, truth be told, though it was only in the last year or so that he’d had anyone in it besides himself. She smiled for a moment. She liked her; she was nice, she made Cael happy, and more importantly got him out of the general vicinity of the shop when she was home. A large bookcase was along the wall at the foot of his bed, a wardrobe near the door... and Lyandiel Silverstorm was nowhere to be seen.

She heard a sound coming from his bathroom. Shhhh-shhhh, shhhh-shhhh…

When she rounded into the bathroom and saw her mother, she sighed. Cleaning. Lyandiel had a stiff-wire brush in her hand and she was scrubbing down tile on the shower wall. There was a crutch that she leaned on, and she was up on her good toe as she reached. “You know he’s meticulous about keeping clean, right?” she asked, striding into the room and standing right behind her mother.

“I know,” Lyandiel replied, continuing her rhythmic scrubbing motions. “Lydi-bean, I have to do something. I’m going a little crazy, and the sooner I’m done with all of this the sooner I can get back to life, and the sooner Jericho can stop feeling so guilty.”

“It’s not his fault,” Lydi said with a sigh. Maybe she sagged a little more than she should have when she leaned against the wall nearby. She was so bone-tired, as she had been for months. “Why don’t you stop scrubbing an already clean wall, go sit on the bed, and let me look at your ankle? You know I can help speed it along.”

“I do. And I also know you’re dead tired from speeding it along for two weeks,” she retorted. Regardless, she stopped scrubbing, lowered onto the flat of her good foot, and tossed her scrub brush into the bucket she’d carried over, where it landed with a sploosh.

“And the sooner you’re healed, the sooner I can rest,” Lydi said stoically, watching as her mother carefully picked her way out of the shower. “I love you, Minn’da, and I want to see you get on with your life as much as you do.”

“I love you too, Lydi-bean, and I will.” Andi leaned in with a smile when she was close enough to her daughter to give her a short kiss on the forehead. “But you’re not going to kill yourself for me.”

“Let me look at it, at least. And I bought you your favorite scoo-oone!” She practically sang that last word as she ducked out of the bathroom and waited for Andi to join her. That, at least, made her mother move a little faster.

“Fine. I’ll let you look at my ankle, but only if you share that scone with me.”

“Deal.”

The pair moved to the common area and Lydi deviated to grab the treat and plate it. By the time she got to the couch, her mother was already perched there, her legs up on the cushions. Lydi set the plate down on the tea table. “He’s worried about you, you know,” Lydi said softly, seating herself just beyond her mother’s feet and taking a look at the casting around her foot and ankle.

“I know. And he thinks it’s his fault, which it is not,” her mother replied, sighing. “I wish… I don’t know. He’s been distant, and I don’t know what to do for him right now. You’ve been distant, too.”

“Excuse me? I’ve been up in your face every day!” Lydi protested, settling one hand over Lyandiel’s toes and one hand on her calf, just above her cast. She closed her eyes, settling into that focus that she’d developed and feeling her way through the injury. It was getting there, but there were a few places that were questionable… and so, before her mother could protest, she fed part of herself into it and guided bone and tendon to repair itself.

“Stop, stop, stop!” Lyandiel half-shouted, suddenly leaning forward and peeling Lydi’s hands off of her.

“Minn’da!”

“I told you I don’t want you spending yourself like this! Why won’t you go out and live a little? Call that cute guy you told me about! Unwind a little bit!” Her mother’s voice was fraught with concern, her eyes almost pleading. “Lydi, you’re hiding.”

“I’m taking care of you,” Lydi protested.

“You’re hiding.”

“Trust me, I’d call that cute guy if I thought he was even remotely interested in getting a call from me. I screwed that one up before there was even anything to screw up.” She huffed a bit and looked over at the scone she’d brought with her. She’d have to wash her hands before she even thought about touching it. “I’m doing much more good by helping you recover. Minn’da, you have a life, a man who loves you, and you’re going stir-crazy in here!”

“And you need a life, and people who are not related to you who love you.”

“I have Arandoros. And Se’lysona. I should call them.”

“Yes!” Andi said, throwing up her hands. “Call them! Call anyone! Get out there and live; I want to see my daughter happy and thriving, and right now you’re pushing yourself too hard for me and wilting. I’ll be on my feet again before you know it, and I promise I’ll be careful while I’m working myself back up to full speed. But you need to go out. Have fun. Figure out what you want out of life.”

“You already know what I want out of life.”

“And you’re not going to find it in this apartment.”

Mother and daughter stared at each other for a long time. There were so many things that Lydi wanted to say to her, like, I can’t, I’m afraid, I just don’t have it in me anymore… I’m broken. Instead, she just sighed. “You’re right, of course. I’ll… call someone.” Reluctantly she got to her feet and started toward the kitchen sink to wash her hands and find her com. Then she went and retrieved the bag she’d left by the door, put away groceries, and deposited a pair of books on the table. “For you.”

“Ooh, thank you! Oh! The two most recent Sunspell novels! I’ve been wanting to read these.” Andi grabbed one of them and began reading the back of it. “A human man and his elven friend with a complicated history. There’s something more there, for sure. Oh! Love Eternal, Part 2! It’s out!”

“You and your romance novels, Minn’da,” Lydi teased, and then broke off half of the scone held it up near her face to speak to it in a theatrically sultry voice. “Oh, Master Scone, you are everything I’ve ever wanted! I’ve been so afraid to give you my heart, but none could ever measure up to your baked goodness. Say you’ll be mine forever!” Her mother tossed a pillow at her and she almost dropped the scone, giggling as she snatched it up from certain floor-death. “No, my love! You cannot leave me like this!”

“You’ll be reading them next,” her mother chided as she grabbed the other half of the scone and took a dainty bite.

“Oh, of course! You’d better finish Eternal Love first, though, because I want to find out what happens with the San’layn.” With that, Lydi bit into the scone and hummed her appreciation. “Mmm. I’ll go make that call now so you’ll stop bothering me to do it.”

After parting words were shared, Lydi made her way downstairs and outside of the shop, plopping down on the nearest bench. And thumbing through her comm. She could call Arandoros—she had no clue what he was up to these days and she missed him. She could call Se’lysona—they needed to meet and catch up, and she missed her, too.

Zayneth’s name popped up on the screen and she hesitated. She’d left things on a semi-good note with him… maybe. And they had talked about going on a friend date that had never happened. Oh, what the hell.

She pressed the call button. Waited. No answer. She very nearly disconnected, but something stopped her, and when it came time to leave him a message, she hesitated there as well. “…Hey,” she said, after a couple seconds of silence. “It’s Lydianah. I hope you’re doing well. I know you’re probably busy and I’m sorry I haven’t reached out, but I… well, I suppose I am now. Get in touch if that friend thing is still on the table.” She’d tried to sound cheerful about it, but exhaustion was creeping up on her like a second shadow, and the tiredness was there in her tone. “Be safe,” she said before she hung up, and then leaned forward with her elbows on her knees.

What are you doing? That little voice inside her asked.

“I’m trying to make a friend,” she responded aloud, closing her eyes. If she let her mother see how tired she was, she’d never get her out of the apartment.

Now however, I had an entirely new battle to wage that would no longer be sated by a few hours of meditation each night. Although Eltheas and a few other paladins and priests had worked with me on my attempt to ‘reconnect to the Light’ as Aelberyn put it, I was growing more and more discouraged with that lack of progress. Stagnation is its own sort of hell, at least to me.  It was late when I arrived, the wee hours of the night and the deployment of so many of our House soldiers made the Hall seem almost deserted. My armor was being shipped back the following day and so all I carried was a large leather bag in one hand. I did not want any sort of fanfare or ceremony and I was grateful that Aelberyn hadn’t arranged for anyone but a pair of guards to meet me at the gate. It was going to be difficult enough to re acclimate to civilian life without having to force a bloody smile for some meaningless pomp and circumstance. 

My footfalls were soft and I wandered the halls toward my tower past sleepy pools of magelight. There was no exchange of conversation besides an initial greeting by the guards and I knew that despite their professionalism and cordiality they were uncomfortable around me. I’d stopped maintaining the illusion that hid my affliction months ago and those at the front had had plenty of time to adjust to the sight. These guards and the servants at the Hall had not had the same luxury and it was with no shortage of relief that I passed only a two in the wee hours of the night. 

Lyandiel had been by my side on those hellish Isles the whole time - for reasons I cannot begin to fathom. Loyal and unwavering in her faith in me, I felt only guilt for dragging her along and being unable to reverse my affliction so long after I’d promised her that I’d find a way. For the time being, she was visiting with her daughter, reuniting and settling back in. In truth, I wanted her to have a break from suffering at my side. She would never admit it, but I know the state of things had worn on her with each passing month. The woman possessed no shortage of strength and bloody hell, I loved her all the more for it - even if that adoration came tangled with no shortage of guilt.

Now though I was home, for the foreseeable future and I had an entirely different set of responsibilities. As I passed the twins’ room, I paused and gently pushed open the door, silently eyeing the two sleeping toddlers with a strange sense of disconnected relief. They each were sprawled in their cribs, though in truth they were more beds now than cribs and they were sound asleep. No burdens of the world or the war weighed them down and I prayed that they maintain that sort of freedom for as long as possible. There would be plenty of time for the rest when they got older.

Resuming my journey to my tower, it didn’t take me long to reach the translocation orb that lead to it. The hum of magic that built to a swell dissipated just as quickly and I was once more standing in my room. It was no battlefield tent, there were no sounds of armored patrols marching by and no shrieks or explosions from a not-so-far off battlefield to pierce the tranquility of the night. Pulling my hand out of my pocket, I set my bag down on the floor gently before I finally noticed the silhouette that hovered amidst the darkness. 

“Years ago, when your aunt and I were still students at the Spire, the two of us invented a game of sorts.  One of us--usually your aunt--would go door to door dressed as an old homeless woman, and cast an illusion on herself to hide her young face. She would hunch over and hold out a shaking hand, and ask if they had anything that they could part with--a heel of bread, a pair of old shoes, a jacket.  We found that our game had turned into a social experiment.  How many of these noble families actually had noble intentions?  Well? How many?” her mother asked, leaning forward just enough to displace some of her shining hair.  Those blue eyes were upon Lydianah again, and she squirmed with delight as she answered, for she knew that she would be right.

“None of them!” she exclaimed, and her mother chuckled fondly at her, reaching up to stroke her hair with a pale, gentle hand.

“You are right, of course, my smart girl.  None of them,” she confirmed.  Then she swept her arm out across the room.  “We visited every noble’s house, and not one of them afforded her even a table scrap.  When she was denied, of course, the illusion was dispelled and they recognized her immediately.  Most of them were confused when she explained that it had all been a test of their intentions, and some of them even had the decency to look ashamed.  But with our cover blown, we had run out of nobles to call upon.  That was when we decided to take our game to the merchants.”

Lydi wriggled beneath her sheets, staring up at her mother with wide, expectant eyes.  She knew the next part.  Oh, she did! “Oh, and this is the part where you meet--“

“Shh,” her mother interjected, pressing the pad of her finger to the young girl’s lips.  Now she was chuckling, the warm undertones of her voice causing Lydi to giggle softly. “Now, it wasn’t the first--or the second, or even the third!--that we went to that was the most interesting, though these folk were typically much nicer even if their shrewdness was more necessity than vanity.  No; it was the fourth shop we visited that finally yielded results.”

“Are you telling her that story again?”  When her mother turned Lydi caught a glimpse of her father leaning against the doorframe to her bedroom.  He looked tired, as he often did after a long day’s work, but there was a fondness in his gaze and happiness in his smile that could not be denied.  “You are going to taint her mind,” he gently scolded.

“Ann’daaaa, she was just getting to the good part!”  Making a shooing motion with her hand, Lydi scrunched her nose and stared up at her father.  His dark hair hung loosely about his shoulders and down his chest and back, and as he pushed himself upright and stepped into the room he all but bumped her mother off of the small chair that she was sitting on.  She laughed, and the two of them tussled playfully over it for a bit before her mother finally stood.

“Fine, dear.  Have it your way,” she said, and came to stand behind him with her arms draped loosely around his neck.

“I will,” he announced, and then leaned forward just a bit to catch Lydi’s eyes with his own azure gaze.  “And I will tell you another part of the story.  You see, there was a young man who, being extremely wonderful and handsome--“

“Keth, stop right there!” her mother scolded through her laughter, and her father reached up to hook his hands on her mother’s arms to keep her from going anywhere--or perhaps, in retrospect, to keep her from smacking him.  Lydi giggled again.

“As I was saying before your minn’da so rudely interrupted me, this extremely handsome, wonderful and talented individual had been doing so well in his studies that his parents had felt comfortable letting him run the shop for the weekend while they took a well-deserved break from the business.  Things were going very well, until who should walk into his shop at the end of the day but your minn’da, dressed in rags and looking like an old crone!”  He spread his arms wide and smiled down at his daughter, who squealed when his hands found her sides and tickled.  “She looked so old and ugly that it might have caused a twinge of disgust in a lesser man.  But not this one!  Not only did he offer her a bit of food and a cloak that needed a new home, he also offered her a place to stay for the night.  Before he could make good his offer, however, the old crone turned into the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen, and he asked for her hand on the spot!”

“No!  Keth, you’re running away with the story!”  Despite her scolding her mother was laughing again, and her father straightened again to twist and look at her.

“Oh, please.  You act as if you have never exaggerated in your entire life.”  He held up a finger before she could give him any kind of retort, and then went back to animatedly retelling the tale.  “Where was I?”

“He asked for her hand on the spot!” Lydi supplied helpfully, her small voice rising muffled from the blankets that covered her mouth and nose.

“Ah, yes.  I am afraid that part is not true.  He did ask for her name, though, and some time later she began to stop by the shop to see the extremely handsome, wonderful and gifted man, for she could not resist his kindness and his charm.  They became good friends, and eventually he won her heart with his witty jokes and enchanting smile.”

“You are so full of yourself!” her mother exclaimed finally, playfully punching her father in the bicep before turning her gaze down to Lydi once more.  “There was a moral to this story before your father got a hold of it.  Can you tell me what it was?”

Yawning now, Lydianah snuggled just a bit deeper into her blankets, her eyelids drooping tiredly.  “Appearances are only as far as you look with your eyes,” she drawled as if repeating something she had previously heard, “but there is always a deeper beauty in kindness.”

“You are right, Little Lydi. And so I can safely say that it wasn’t your father’s good looks or charming smile that won me in the end, but his strength of character and his kindness to those less fortunate than he.”  Her mother bent to kiss Lydianah’s forehead then, and her father followed suit before he stood and yawned himself, and the two of them left Lydi to drift off after whispered affections, retreating from her room hand-in-hand.

“Lydi.”  The hand that shook her was gentle, and the deep voice just so.  As her eyelids fluttered open, she realized that she must have fallen asleep reading, for she was slumped over her desk on a book that was collecting enough drool to warrant replacing.  She picked up her head, groaning.  “Lydi, you need to go to bed, where the pillows will not run like this ink when you drool all over them.”

Her eyes found the source of the voice and she smiled.  “Anvyr,” she murmured, slowly uncurling herself from the text to stretch her arms high in the air.  He was right, of course; and as he leaned down to begin cleaning up the mess she’d made he kissed the top of her head.  It was a simple, affectionate gesture; but then, he was not one to exaggerate anything.  “Hey. I have a game we should play sometime.”

“Tell me about it when you’re not sleep-drunk, my love--oh, you’ve a spell written on your face; we’re going to have to get that off.  I would call it irony that it looks like an illusion incantation, but you're too tired for that,” he said with a chuckle as she stood.  Then his arm was around her and his dark hair fell over her shoulder as he guided her toward her quarters and toward sleep.