#nahisummerhold

The Midnight Mercenaries, Prompt 1

The more Nahi worked with the healers the more setting up for injuries became ingrained in her, allowing her to work smoothly with the others. It was becoming a well rehearsed dance, one that involved many of them coming together so they could best prepare for something that one could never truly prepare for. You just never knew what the fighting would bring to them. Her eyes snapped to the path cutting through the magic shield as the first injured came through. She moved with the others, helping guide them down, hands already reaching, already working. They looked skewered, torn through, and carried a thick, earthy smell, like mulch clinging to their skin. How was that even possible? What was in there? More injured poured in, some on their own, others carried. Too many. Nahi’s gaze swept over them, her stomach tightening. Many weren’t fighters. They looked like civilians, an older man with blood soaking through his clothes, his steps unsteady as someone tried to keep him upright. Were they from the town? 

She shifted from tending the wounded to preparing for them, laying out pads and blankets as quickly as she could. If this was only the first wave, they were going to need far more space. It didn’t register at first when she saw the flowers sprouting from a woman’s hand. They’d been treating wounds from the plants all day. Around her, the injured spoke of the town breaking apart, of people still alive as the plants took them. It wasn’t until she saw the woman’s skin shift, something moving beneath it, that it clicked. Then more flowers burst through her arm, splitting flesh as they spread.

Nahi stumbled back. All around her, bodies twisted, changed. becoming more vegetation than human.One of the priests called on the Light, trying to drive them back. But the instant it touched one of the shambling forms, its mouth gaped open and stalks erupted faster, spilling outward. 

“Stop using Light magic!”

Nahi didn’t know who shouted it, but she saw Nara already moving, sprinting for her weapons.metal flashed as she turned back into the fray, sword cut down one of the half-formed creatures before it could rise, then drove it back, keeping it away from the healers. As they tried to group to defend themselves. The horror around her locked her in place. Nahi wasn’t one to panic easily, but this… This was worse than anything she’d faced before. A memory surged unbidden, people talking about the shambling dead that had ravaged Eversong not so long ago. 

A scream cut through the haze. She turned. Roots lashed out from one of the creatures, coiling around a nearby victim and dragging them into an atrocious embrace. Her hand flew to her mouth as she stepped back, eyes glued to the horror.

Out of the corner of her vision, another slow-moving being crept through the fight toward one of the company’s druids, still focused on a man who wasn’t rising like the others. As her magic began to weave over him, it was siphoned away into the creature with a horrifying inhale. It swelled, twisting and stretching until it resembled a monstrous treeant. Branches clawed outward like a starving person desperate for a scrap of food. A lightning strike sparked into a handful of the shamblers, catching them on fire, a gust of wind followed and the creatures were forced back around the center of the healers. Then more fire began popping up around them as arrows rained down on the beings, who began to trip and fall into things. A cot at Nahi’s side began to burn and she turned to see a face formed of petals in a bud that had yet to blossom moving in towards her. Instinct overcame her, she screamed and ran… The healer’s carefully arranged space? Obliterated. She had no clue where she was, so she bolted toward the closest gap in the tents. Debris and roots threatened to trip her at every step, but she darted through it, dodging gracefully like the lifelong dancer she was.

People came into focus. Kai was flinging ice at the leafy monsters but where was everyone else? She glanced back. The plant creature had not given up on chasing her. Not wanting it to grab her friend like the others were doing, she dove sideways, barely avoiding a tent that erupted into flame. 

And then… her foot hit ice. She slipped, flailed like a new born chick out of an egg, and landed in what should have been a graceful roll, but instead, she ended up tangled in a mountain of green canvas, tumbling headfirst into a pile of… pillows? Soft, sure, but really?

Pulling at the canvas only made it worse. Trying to stand she slammed her knee into something unhelpfully solid and just tangled herself more when she fell and tried to crawl through the fabric that had caught on fire that was spreading behind her. She clawed herself free and stood just to receive a face full of water from someone trying to douse the tent. 

Everywhere, the camp was burning. Somewhere, monsters were still vegetating. And here she was looking like a drowned rat standing in the middle of total chaos.

(Slight prequel to the events happening in Silvermoon)

The last time a city she was living in had augurs and reports telling them it was going to be destroyed, Nahi had fought the whispers with denial. This time, she prepared for something that might happen, or might not happen here, but she was leaning into their word for it.

Her personal items in her house had mostly been packed already. Just a little over a week ago, she had faced the possibility that she was going to legally lose it all, or do the same when the void came. 

Tal had used his portal magic to open one in her backyard. He had known the rumors and helped her with things while she talked to him about everything since her mother’s death. When he asked if she was alright, she smiled and said she was. If he pushed, or had taken her into a hug, she likely would have broken down. There was a war right in front of them. There had been no time for that.

When he left, she began to prepare herself for a battle ahead. The bronze and bordeaux armor she had bought when she went to war with the Mercenaries, over a year ago, was a little too big. Nothing anyone but her and the armorer would have noticed. 

During her preparations, she had a couple of guests. One was her firearms trainer and lover, who invited her to his home. There was a lovely dinner, sweet words and a night spent proving that the world had things, other than people, to fight  for.

The other was his niece the next day. Sun-bright eyes side-eyeing her uncle, who actually blushed, giving Nahi ammunition for teasing in the future, if they got to see one. The urchin took Nahi to her father, who ran her through a couple of drills leaving her many bruises, a reminder that this was why she should not have stopped coming to him for training, no matter what was happening in her life.

The other things he handed her were a couple of knives forged by a Light wielder, small things that would be tucked into her medical kit as tools and protection. One looked more like a letter opener, long and sharp, patterned with what her uninformed mind assumed was steel and Light-blessed metal striped like a tiger’s fur.

A hint of gold glinted off the other knife, barely perceptible. It was more of a chopping blade, and she could see uses for it in the kitchen as well as the medical tent. Though she tried to gloss over the obvious use of a weighted blade while working as a healer, she could not help but see them in the abstract.

She had not expected the gifts, but when he handed them to her, she saw the look of a man who had seen battles for hundreds of years and was lays prepared. He was protective of his past, and she truly had no idea of the work he had done. There was no clue if he had been military, always an underground fighter, or something else. All she knew was that she felt just a tiny bit safer when she left his space, between the lesson and the knives.

Silvermoon’s atmosphere hung like a weighted blanket across her shoulders, and she hated the waiting. Nahi packed and unpacked her kit a number of times, always thinking of little things that might help her in the tent, or in defending herself and others, if needed.

There were a number of bottles of pills like she had given Xylaes for the holiday, healing, poison resistance, and regenerative potions that had been distilled down so they were easier to carry. She was not sure of their potency, but the alchemist had said he had used the same process successfully to make poisons easier to hide. That was what she got for buying items at a black market, she supposed, but if they worked, that was all that mattered.

The rest of the gear was easier to pack: bandages of all kinds; a kit that included silk threads and needles for stitching; antiseptics; small bits of anything she could think of that might be needed. Her short staff, which would be less in the way. A gown to go over her armor, showing her place in the healer’s tent, but easily stuffed away so she would not make herself a target.

Most of these tips had come from Irenthalas while he put together his own bags, he had been a battle healer himself before retiring to work in a hospital. They went through Nahi’s packing together, him offering advice for both her ability to help others and to survive. He wanted to see not just her success as a healer, but as a daughter that he wanted to come back to him. The last held most of his influence, he could not lose anyone else.

When the signs of attack solidified and Talon called, she grabbed her things and locked her door, not that the action would have mattered if the city fell. @themercenaries

Nahi killed it…

She needed this night, needed the win that the two shows she had managed to pull off represented. She had not performed since New Year’s, and sometimes, after you do something for so long, you forget the true joy that goes into doing it.

In a little snarky moment that only she would understand, her set for the Tirisfal Theatre Troupe show was based entirely on her family. She sang a song her mother used as a warm-up, so it was always around her, and it meant that if her mother was singing it, she would have a level of safety and time to go off and do what she wanted.

The second was that little song she wrote about her father being the non-committal type, the same as she was. Sleeping with the same friend-with-benefits more than once was really as close to a relationship as she had come. It had mostly been out of fear when she was younger, and that carried through many, many years until she began building this new normal around herself.

Last was something she had written to perform a few years back. It explored the effect of dementia on a person and those who loved them, but it seemed apropos after her mother’s death and the tie-in with other family connections through the songs. They were all very well received, and she even had a few people linger to talk to her, which was always nice.

It meant she had a little less time to get to the Red Moon. She was as quick as she could manage, especially with having to style her hair. Nahi could have used a wig, but it just felt right to do it herself. Used to quick changes for the stage, she was ready to go to get her there just in time. 

She actually arrived just before opening and slipped through the back entrance, stealing a canapé from the kitchen with a conspiratorial wink to the sous chef she met earlier. Beyond the kitchen doors, the club hummed with pre-opening energy, staff making little adjustments: candles being lit, silk drapery being straightened and tied back perfectly. This was not yet her moment, so she retreated to a quiet place to watch the opening.

Nahi let her eyes wander, picking out people she knew in the crowd. As when he went to the gallery opening with her, seeing Xylaes in a suit made her pulse quicken. He looked just as good as he had that night, and the memory made her smile. After spending time with him in the dangerous shadows of the hookah lounges of Murder Row and seeing him here, he never seemed out of place. He was in control. He owned his space.

Dori, radiant in emerald, worked the room with effortless command. Emceeing was often mishandled; she made it look easy and smooth. Her wit walked a line just above flirtation, her warmth genuine and perfect for the setting. Watching someone in their element was its own pleasure, and Dori seemed perfect for this.

Fio looked stunning in tailored pants and a sheer blouse, giving off just the right hint of I am in charge. She moved through the room extinguishing small crises, the natural state of any event organizer,  and with so many moving pieces on a night like this, she was in constant demand. Nahi had already spent time with her earlier that day while walking the stage and choreographing her songs, so there was no need to compete for her attention now. Staff slipped in and out of rooms, cubbies, and kitchens, emerging only to murmur updates or fresh complications at Fio’s shoulder.

When Stellan took the stage, Nahi could not help but admire him. She had always been attracted to him, but this side was something else entirely. The scout who had always made her feel safer in camp, knowing he was watching over them, had morphed into a charismatic, seductive flirt, and it surprised her enough that she stared at him for a while, which equated to his entire set.

She had eaten some of the passed canapés and had asked Serazhen to keep hot water with lemon and honey ready for her instead of alcohol. After her operatic choice to start the night, she didn’t want to falter on the stage that mattered most to her.

When it was her turn, she moved into place with deliberate calm, stepping into the circle of light as though it had been waiting for her and technically it had. The spotlight poured over her cream-and-silver cocktail dress, catching on the subtle sheen of the fabric and igniting the delicate fringe at the hem. Each measured step sent it brushing against her thighs, a soft shimmer of movement that promised the playfulness she would open her set with.

The neckline framed her collarbones cleanly, leaving room for the amethyst necklace she had chosen. The stones caught the light in flashes of violet that rivaled her eyes, it was a bold contrast against the pale elegance of the dress. Matching earrings brushed her jaw when she turned her head, scattering color into the darkened room.

For a suspended moment before the music began, she stood still and let herself breathe. The hum of the room softened in her ears. The nervous energy that had lived in her chest all evening settled into something steadier, something controlled. She knew how she looked, she was polished and commanded attention. Entirely at home beneath the light.

The set went amazingly, and she was buzzed from the adrenaline high. Moving through the room, she talked with people and was about to find her corner again when someone caught her eye.

It couldn’t be him. He was dead, wasn’t he? Why now? It had been more than thirty years since she had last seen him. Why here, of all places?

Fortunately, her role at the opening did not require sustained engagement, only brief, charming exchanges to promote the Moon, something she had mastered in her career. So when fear struck and her thoughts stalled, her silence passed easily as attentiveness. She simply inclined her head, as though listening with care.

The pause gave her cover. Through the shifting bodies at the table, past candlelight and crimson silk, she searched for him, for the shape of a face that had haunted her youth. A nightmare she had tried to bury, and yet here it was, unearthed in her present.

He did not look at her, yet she felt the direction of his attention like heat against her skin, palpable enough to seize her lungs in a clenched fist and make her fight for air. Then one of the men at the table said something to her, and Nahi turned a dazzling smile toward the compliment. Was it too much? Possibly, but no one would really notice, not with the affection she had for those who praised her music.

When she looked up again, he hadn’t moved. Her violet eyes studied his profile and posture. The light was low, and crimson silk half-obscured his table. Memory and shadow were known to create dangerous concoctions. Was it truly him, or was the emotional turbulence of the past seven weeks casting familiar shapes in unfamiliar darkness?

She excused herself and moved to get a better view. By the time she found it, the man was already heading toward the private rooms with one of the club’s hostesses. His back revealed nothing.

At the bar, she made herself approachable, posture open, expression welcoming, though she was content simply to cradle her cup and slow her breath. Hot water, lemon, honey, simple things that allowed her to ground herself.

Was his nose the right shape? His eyes the correct shade? Or was her mind, startled by resemblance and memory, manufacturing a ghost?

She just couldn’t convince herself either way. Maybe it would be wise to find someone to add magical protections to her home. And it was definitely time to make an appointment to see Xanelan again. If her mind was structuring threats from her past, it was more than time to stop avoiding therapy.

@daily-writing-challenge

After retaining her lovely, little home in the court proceedings, Nahi danced through the first-floor rooms. Loose shorts hung low on her hips, a cut-off tee clung to her dark skin. She moved like the weight of the past six weeks had lifted entirely from her shoulders.

When the celebration waned, she collapsed onto the mosaic at the center of her patio, the image of the sun she had spent half a year building, tile by tile. She loved it and it was hers. It would remain hers.

The tiles held the day’s heat. She stretched across them like a cat, soaking it in, and for a moment, a memory flickered, the chill of a marble hallway under her bare feet at the manor, the echo of calls for her to attend to her mother, the sting of a brush she had forgotten to flinch from when she wasn't fast enough.

Letting go of the family name freed her. She left behind Nahilvi Summerhold, daughter of the Diva, the child who tried desperately to get her mother to love her, but was labeled a burden instead. She stepped further away from the father she once worshipped, the man who allowed her uncle free rein to spread whispers and jokes that questioned her birthright, who took her first crush to bed when she was sixteen with no thought for her heart.

She became simply Nahilvi. The woman who cared for her injured mother despite everything. Who kept her stepfather’s house in order. Who discovered a voice that was entirely her own, not a copy of the Diva’s. Who found courage among mercenaries, only to discover fear waiting within herself. Who found a path she hadn’t expected, choosing to become a nurse after wanting to escape caring for her mother for so long.

To the Nahi who owned this house. Who built a sun to greet herself each morning. Who let friends in, and some into her bed.

Abruptly, she sat up, violet eyes wide. The warm relaxation had shifted into something sharper, inspiration. Reaching for the notebook and pencil on the patio table, she drew her knees up and wrote furiously.

A wicked little smile curved her lips as the final line hit the page. She rose and crossed to the music room, settling at the small keyboard. Her fingers found the first chords, the notes coming easily.

She began to compose. After she finished shaping the melody, sang through it with a smile on her lips. “Standing in the middle of the problem again Standing in the middle between now and then Lying on the bed with my foot out of the door Wanting you to leave but begging you for more.”

“Cause I am my father’s daughter, And if you knew me better Know I can’t go any farther While keeping it together.”

“Yes, I am my father’s daughter And if I knew you better Know I’d push you even farther While keeping it together”

“Time and time again I fall from grace Absolutely charmed By the sight of your face.”

“Cast away the shadows Here in this room Time can’t erase They move across your face.”

“Lying to myself again Daddy’s little now and then Trying hard not to admit I just can’t get away from it.”

“Cause I am my father’s daughter And if you knew me better Know I can’t go any farther While keeping it together.”

“Yes I am my father’s daughter And if I knew you better Know I’d push you even farther While keeping it together.”

She filled the break with music, letting the keys breathe where words left space. The more she played, the wider her smile became.

“And in your hands Please tell the truth What am I to you?”

“From these lies I Somehow I knew What I am to you.”

Soft vowels slipped into the spaces, fitting perfectly into the melody she was shaping.

“Ohhh ah ohhh ah Ooh ah ohhh ohhh oh.”

“I am my father’s daughter And if you knew me better Know I can’t go any farther While keeping it together.”

“Yes I am my father’s daughter And if I knew you better Know I’d push you even farther While keeping it together.”

When the final chord faded, she carefully transcribed the composition onto a clean sheet. She squared the pages against the top of the keyboard, satisfaction bright in her expression.

Moving into the kitchen, she poured herself a glass of Dalaran Red, raising it in a mock toast, she took a slow drink and smiled. They always say that revenge was a dish best served cold, but every chef knew the need for proper mise en place. “Well, Uncle,” she said quietly, “I think it’s time you learn how useful being a performer can be.”

TW: Graphic Depictions of Abuse, Allusions to Sexual Abuse, Domination, Violence

Nahi was eighteen when he first came into her life, his family moved in with his aunt on the estate next to hers. He was beautiful. Tall with short dark hair that was so black the sun hitting it made for blue highlights. He was a couple years older than her, and friends with her cousin, Hamdil. 

She was wrapped completely in the crush.

There was this dangerous aura around him, he smoked cigarettes and peacebloom and other people their age tended to avoid him, except her cousin and a couple of his friends. He had a little sister who was a year younger than Nahi’s, not that Nahi tried to be her friend, sure that he would have no interest in his sister’s friends. 

When the invitation came in, Nahi read it with bright smile, his sister was having a party for her birthday, Nahilvi and her cousins were invited. Of course she wasn’t going to say no to a chance to see him.

Dressing in a black miniskirt and blouse that was pewter that showed her natural white curls and dark skin were shown of to perfection. It was intended to catch his attention and hold it. He was the only reason to even go to the party. 

She had placed her gift on a table and his sister happy birthday, before she began to look through the house, hoping to run into him. but there was no sign of this man that fascinated her. Eventually she made her way to the pool and settled onto a lounge chair, resting her head back to looks at the stars. If he wasn’t at the party then the whole night was a waste. A flash of orange light caught her eye, he was standing next to their pool house smoking. 

Walking over next to him, she felt his golden eyes on her, a slow side eye appraising look. “You should leave, I am not who you are looking for, Princess.” 

“Who are you to tell me what I am looking for?”

“I know girls like you, you are just looking for trouble and I am not the kind of trouble you can handle.” And with that he turned on his heel and walked back inside.

Then one day his sister came by the manor, her grandmother had extended an invitation for her to study under Nahi’s dance instructor. Under a bond formed of a love of dance, a friendship blossomed. When Nahi mentioned her brother, her new friend warned her away from him, said she would hate for Nahi to get hurt. Nahi didn’t really listen, of course his sister didn’t want her seeing him, she didn’t want to lose their friendship if something went wrong.

A few weeks passed, he anppeared in the studio doorway, there to walk his sister home. Nahi felt the heat of his gaze as his eyes raked over her leotard and tights. The look made her flush and lower her eyes. Walking closer to her, he whispered while his sister was changing, “Did you wear that for me?”

Nahi shook her head, her violet eyes came up and she scoffed a little, “I didn’t know you were coming, how could I dress for you?”

“Wear it again tomorrow.”

And she did, but he never showed. Why did she dress for him when he didn’t even bother to come over. It frustrated her, and she tucked the outfit away in the back of her closet. How dare he think he could tell her what to wear? 

It was a week before she saw him again, he stood in the studio doorway watching her practice her split jumps in a pale pink dance costume including a flowing knee length skirt. He walked to her when she stopped to stretch in front of the mirror. “Why aren’t you wearing my outfit?”

“Why would I? In the hopes that you would show up again? I do not plan my clothing around your requests.”

“You wore it for me like I told you. You were a good girl.” 

Nahi met his eyes in the reflection. “Were you watching me?”

A look of disdain came over his face, "Of course. Don’t ask stupid questions. All of my sister’s friends are stupid, you aren’t. Wear it for me again, be a good girl, maybe I will give you something special.”

The next day she didn’t wear it, she wasn’t going to do something just because he told her to. Even then she had a prideful stubborn streak. Stepping out from the studio she was grabbed by her hair and yanked around a corner where no one could see them.

“Did you decide you could ignore what I told you? I told you to be a good girl, Princess, didn’t I?” He slammed her head back and  his mouth found hers in a crushing kiss, parting her legs with his knee he pressed his thigh between them. She whimpered and he broke the kiss, his lips moving down her neck and she felt her body begin to react.

No one had ever touched her like this, then he sank his teeth over her collarbone and she cried out, shoving him back. “Get off me!” 

“Next time be a good girl.” 

Nahi was angry and ignored hi again, this time he found her on her way through the manor house. Placing a hand over her mouth and dragging her into a closet. His hand closed around her throat her while he leaned in and whispered in her ear. “You are going to keep pissing me off. You don’t want to do that. You don’t want to know what happens if you aren’t my good girl.” Then he hit her in her stomach before he let go, Nahi catching her breath with a wheeze. “If you tell anyone about me, I will tell them that you were leading me on, that you begged for me.”

It continued on, he would tell her to do something and she would do it because if she didn’t there was a price to pay. She explained away the bruises, the sprains, falling in the studio, tripping on the stairs. 

Hamdil and her grandmother didn’t believe her, but she insisted. He told her that if she wasn’t convincing enough he would hurt them and it would be all her fault. So she convinced them not to worry, just said she was spending her time working on new jumps in the studio, or not eating enough so she was dizzy. 

He praised her, told her what a good girl she was. He never called her by her name, she was his good girl or Princess. They never had sex, he told her that one day she would earn the right to be in his bed and he would impregnate her, she had to be worthy to carry his child. 

Nahi was not even safe in her own room. She would be showering and suddenly he would be there watching her, telling her how her body was his, how she would always be his followed by him making her get into bed so they could cuddle. 

She wanted to tell people, to find help, but she knew he would hurt her family. One day Hamdil was beat up on his way home after drinking with friends. It was a night after she defied him, trying to run away. Her cousin’s attack was all her fault. She never ran from him again, never tried to tell anyone, stopped resisting. 

For years he would be there every day, she didn’t know when he would show up, but he was always present in her life. He would sneak her away to clubs, make her dance for him and his friends. He told  her he was going to sell her to them for the night, but if they tried to touch her they would find themselves against the wall with a dagger at their neck.

One day he just disappeared, but not before her vibrant personality had been dimmed. Her grandmother and cousin spent months just trying to get her to open up again, but she avoided talking with them, stopped dancing, hid herself away. 

It took a year before she could step into the studio, but she would have panic episodes and bolt to her room, hiding in a corner just expecting him to be there, watching her. Another half a year until she could actually close her eyes when she danced. Two more years until she could go to a club with friends. 

The nightmares didn’t stop, they clung to her psyche, for years. Eventually, they faded, revisiting her only when she was stressed. Peace slowly found its way into her vocabulary. 

A couple of decades passed and Nahi met someone, he was sweet and she never expected a man like him to come into her life. One night after she was driven home and left with a sweet kiss, she was yanked from her shower and thrown across the room.

When her nightmare came to her and licked her ear, he whispered, “Did you forget you are mine? Break it off or I will kill him. We will be together forever Princess, just you and me, our lives entwined.”

The next day ended the relationship. He cried and asked her what had changed, what he had done, but she didn’t tell him anything, just walked away. Not too long after her ex-boyfriend was in a hunting accident, a wayward shot killed him instantly. 

They called it a freak accident. 

Nahi knew what had happened though, knew it was her fault, she had thought she was free. Now she knew she would never be free of him.

During the scourge attack,her family had hidden, Their estate was not in the direct path of the attack, it was a blessing, though some of the undead found their way to the further reaches of Eversong. The next day when they went out, they found all the attackers around their home dead, most were shot, but some were found with daggers plunged into their skulls or their heads ripped off. 

She knew, she just knew. 

It wasn’t until they followed Kael’thalas into the Outlands, spending time in the keep before she stopped jumping at shadows. Stopped expecting to hear that people she talked to disappeared. There were only so many people, and she felt that he hadn’t followed her, or if he did, he possibly died in the attacks the Prince ordered. She engaged in one night stands and her partners weren’t killed. He didn’t appear in her quarters in the middle of the night. She began to feel free.

When they settled in Dalaran, she went back to feeling as though she was being tracked. Always looking over her shoulder. Always expecting to be pinned in an alley, kicked, beaten. None of it materialized. 

One night stands became her only moments of desire. She was too afraid what might happen if she dared more.

Her masks that hid the abuse from her mother since she was a child also hid herself from what he had done. Nahi would not be what he created. Would never feel that vulnerable again. She would keep herself safe, keep those she loved safe. 

Maybe through her friends, and liaisons that were lasting more than one night, she could build a real future. One that didn’t have her fearing a nightmare in a man’s form. 

A blank piece of paper. A pencil. Nothing to do.

The first line is meaningless: a scratch across the surface, but not really. Nastka tilts the paper, studies it, and mutters under his breath, “No, this one wants to bleed upward.” He erases it. Or tries to. Erasing is just relocating the mark, not destroying it.

He begins again. This time he draws a jagged line, labeling it in tiny script: “Rage, 7:12 PM--temporary, unpredictable.” Another line intersects it: “Regret, 7:13 PM--silent, festering.” A small dot appears in the corner. He circles it, scribbles, “Point of origin--unknown. Possible trauma.”

Every mark gets a name, a history, sometimes a personality. The shadows grow dense, and Nastka whispers to them like he’s negotiating: “You’re too loud. Quiet down. Or you’ll make me angry.” The pencil scratches back, almost in protest.

He starts mapping interactions. Lines connect dots and jagged marks. “Regret meets Rage at 7:15 PM. Argument ensues. Rage prevails.” He pauses, nods, scribbles a new note in the margin: “Rage is loyal but fickle. Treat cautiously.”

Hours pass. He’s completely immersed. The paper is no longer flat; it’s a battlefield, a map of abstract conflicts, alliances, betrayals. Nastka leans closer. He notices a smudge and immediately gives it a voice: “Whisper, 7:28 PM -- traitor, cowardly.” He draws tiny arrows showing Whisper’s escape route, anticipating possible moves in this miniature war.

The pencil becomes an extension of his mind. He chews the eraser tip absentmindedly. He adds notes like “Edge of darkness--fragile. Handle with care.” Every stroke is a negotiation, a strategy, a confession. The paper doesn’t just hold marks, it holds intention, every mark a living thought.

Finally, he steps back. The sheet is chaotic, suffocating, obsessive. Tiny arrows crisscross lines; dots and shadows form constellations of emotion. Nastka doesn’t feel boredom anymore. He feels control, amusement, and a strange tenderness toward the chaos he’s built.

Then, just before letting it go, he writes at the bottom in small, almost invisible letters:

“All these lives exist only because I let them. Tomorrow, some may die. Some may betray me. But for now… they are mine.”

The pencil drops. The paper stays. And for a fleeting moment, the world outside could collapse, and he wouldn’t care. Because here, on this one sheet, he is absolute.

{ Prompt Here }

"Lady Summerhold." The Courier's voice carried a pleasant humor across the chatterstone. "All I could ever hate about you is that I don't get to see you as much as I should. I think we should petition to change that, hmmm?"

"I love your voice, of course. Anyone would be a fool not to love the sensation that is The Silver Banshee. But you aren't just your voice, are you? I'm fond of your style, and the game that our words sometimes become. You are a playful little mystery, Nahi. And all the world is your stage, I think. I love how you own that."

"You know very well I'd miss just hearing your little messages. And the little recordings you send me when I miss your shows. And the opportunities I have to bring you a new favorite taste in spirits. And future opportunities that would be lost if you went away." A delicate silence hung in the space of encroaching pessimism. The Courier dragged them both out of it with a diverting little laugh. "You're not allowed to disappear on me, Nahi. You come find me or one of my couriers if you ever lose that chatterstone."