#valaasca

(X)

Not fulfilling one’s promises.

“PAPA!”  The little girl shrieked with delight as the tall soulpriest swung her up into his arms, whirling her around before planting a hearty smack of a kiss on a freckled cheek splattered with kindiin-berry jam. 

“Sakena, my delight!  How is my favorite girl?”  Seriol hefted his daughter up in his arms, smiling at his heavily pregnant wife. 

“Someone is up past her bedtime.”  Mikania knuckled the small of her back, disapproval flickering over her face. 

“Just a little longer, Mama?”  Sakena twisted around to peer at her mother, one of her little ponytails drooping; evidence, if they needed it, of a hard day’s play. 

“Ahhh sweetling, Papa is going to have to get back to work.”  With regret, Seriol lowered the little girl to her hooves.

“Already?  It is so late.”  Mikania’s eyes were sharp, ignoring Sakena’s cries of disappointment.  “You promised you would take some time.”

“There was an accident, three days past.”  Seriol was quiet, lowering his head against her glare.  “Fourteen people died, Mika.  Their families have need.”

“Your family has need,” Mikania hissed, reaching for her daughter’s hand.  “Or have you forgotten, in your haste to help everyone else?”

“I’ll be home before the first bell.”  He leaned forward and went to kiss her, only to get her hair as she turned her head.   He sighed when his wife gathered up their daughter and left, slamming the door to his office behind her.   “I promise.”

Fifteen hours later, he closed the door behind his last appointment; ten adults and four children had been killed in a decompression accident before the engineering crew could seal the breach, and all of the soulpriests not in stasis had stepped in to ensure the families were cared for. 

His earlier promise forgotten, he settled back into his chair, pouring himself a drink and rubbing the back of his neck.  Best to get my notes dictated while they’re fresh...

“Dare what? What did I do?” Astriid pulled her hands back from the stackof notes on Valaasca’s desk. They just looked so… precise and specific. Theymay have been just schedules and appointments for every relevant soulpriest andsoulbinder for the next several weeks, but why would Astriid care about who wasmeeting and when? It wasn’t as though she could benefit from that.

“Just… don’t, here, look at this,” Valaasca thrust a different stack ofpapers at her curious companion.

Astriid, hesitating briefly, looked at this data set instead. “Oh isthis ritual garment and ornament inventories? And you’ve got delivery dates onit too!” Somehow, that was exciting and distracting, because it gave herinsight for her latest programming scheme for the Idrael: complex datamanagement. Astriid always wondered how a mind predisposed for minutiaecollected and prioritized such meaningless information, and Valaasca justseemed so good with all these details.

It turned out to be the perfect way to keep the Assistant Artificer outof Valaasca’s hair while she tried to figure out how Astriid got into heroffice in the first place.

I can't recall which alts I've written about and which ones I haven't, so if this is a repetition... my apologies!

I have had a lot going on with Valaasca lately, so I supposed I should talk about her!  She's the eldest of the three Irennellar daughters (Veriinya and Keialaar are her younger sisters), and has spent her life trying to stay under the radar of the rest of the family.   Her father (Seriol) tampered with the Auchenai historic records to show that Valaa died at the same time his wife and second daughter (Veriinya) did.  

Neither Seriol nor Valaasca know that Mikania and Veriinya are alive.  Good stuff.  Anyway, she is Rangari trained, but doesn't fit under the Rangari organizational structure.  Instead, she serves as eyes-and-ears for her father, and runs her own network of informants.   She currently serves the Auchenai as a docent because it gives her the most freedom and flexibility while rendering her practically invisible as far as Auchindoun is concerned.

ღ - nose

(X)

Following these events.

“Are you certain?”   Seriol stared at the schematic on his desk, reaching blindly for the cut-crystal decanter.  He had told no one about the dreams; there was no one he could confide in.  He had never had friends at Auchindoun, and with Idra gone, the closest ally he had was perched on the edge of the desk frowning at the level of wine in the decanter.

“Quite.  Astriid went on about it at length.   It seems that Gamelon promised her that if the Kyreal was successful, she would lead the next project.  But he reneged on the deal.”  A slender finger with callouses that had nothing to do with the genteel work of an Auchenai tapped the data tablet, opening a new screen that showed the construct's head design, faint lights indicating data points where the user could pull up finer detail.  “She didn't know the working name on this one, but she was able to get the design schematics.”

Seriol's hand trembled as he poured a glass of wine, the crystal clinking against the glass.  He knew those horns, knew that face.  He'd been seeing it almost every night in his dreams.

“Does it matter?”  Valaasca's voice was as gentle as her hands when she took the decanter from him, setting it down on its tray with a clink.  “You should be preparing for your Trial, not mucking around with the Artificers...”  She paused, taking a deep breath.  “You're drinking an awful lot, and you look like hell.”  Ever since the rumored death of Soulbinder Idra, he had been acting strangely, drinking more wine, murmuring to himself.  

“It matters.  Are you questioning my judgment?”  His voice was soft, and his eyes lifted to her face.  Whatever she saw there made Valaa look away, her expression tight.  

Idra's enemies were circling, and he had to establish his own power base before they swallowed him up.   He returned his attention to the datapad, his fingers tapping on the schematic.   The face of the construct zoomed into focus, lines of neat text on either side detailing power needs, circuitry and other minutiae that held no interest for him. All of his focus was on the sightless green eyes, the ones that whispered to him in the darkness.

Why he was seeing her, he had no idea, but the connection to Idra was unmistakable.  “I need an appointment with Gamelon.”

“Your schedule for today has already been arranged.”  Her brow furrowed as she reached for the data tablet, intending to pull up his roster.

“Make it happen, Sakena.”  His voice cracked like a whip as he settled back into his chair, settling his robes around himself.  “I will see him before sundown.”  

Swallowing, she nodded, scooping up her data tablet and clearing away the schematics with a swipe of her thumb.  “Briina is assigned to the Artificer's offices this week, I'll go ask her to make an opening.”  

Seriol picked up his wineglass and drained it in two long swallows, ignoring his daughter as she gave him one last glance and scurried out the door.   In his mind's eye, he could see the construct's glowing green eyes and distinctively shaped horns.  Confiding in Valaasca on why the artificers were important never crossed his mind as an option.  She was his daughter, but she was also an Irennellar; and he could not be completely certain that the family had not gotten to her, created a conflict of loyalty.  He had grown accustomed, over the years, to this solitary existence, but there were days when it was a heavy life to lead.

Help me, I need you.

I'm coming, Idra.

Amber liquid swirled in the glass, chunks of ice clinkingquietly.  Seriol sat in his bedchamber'scomfortable chair, in his dressing robe, a large book open in his lap.  It was late, and he had worked with a youngfamily that afternoon.  The mother haddied, leaving a bereft father and two small children to pick up the shatteredpieces of their lives.

He didn't tell Sakena how much families like the one todayhurt his heart, made Mikania and Kalinye's losses felt fresh and new.  She wouldn't like it, and more... shewouldn't understand.   His fingertipstraced the delicate, precise handwriting etched on the book's pages.   Mikania had always had a tidy, delicatehand, and fifteen thousand years after she had written these words... he couldstill read them clearly. 

This is a question I hadn’t given much consideration to before tonight.

Valaa is an interesting case.  She has little patience or tolerance with what she considers ‘gross displays of emotion’, and thusly vacates herself whenever Seriol needs to perform his official duties as a counselor.

His insistence on staying with the Auchenai is a source of irritation for her; she feels that his skills are wasted, and that he would be far happier if he were doing his own research or living somewhere away from Auchindoun.