• Closed • Funhouse

[Vakhanor]

Ashan 13, 717

Disinterested in her explanation of the discomfort that his actions had caused her, Vakhanor chose not to comment on the request Elyna had made not to touch her neck and instead carried on walking down the hill. Over the last few breaks all that had been drawn to either of them was anger and misery, the everlasting pattern that the two repeated over and over again until eventually Elyna ran back to her happy little life and Vakhanor carried on living for the better part of nothing.

The Aukari lead Elyna to a quiet little restaurant he’d found near the seaside overlooking the water. It was expensive, but it was a place where they could talk and the smith would be strained to lose his temper. Contrary to his natural demeanour Vakh knew the need for safety in the timid and vulnerable and much to his chagrin was something that had never been his strong point, at least not with women. Ornate in its structure, the restaurant had built inside of a light house like structure that spiralled toward the skies. Each spiral had a different piece of artwork and a different story to tell.

“I’ll pay for tonight,” Vakhanor offered, opening the small wooden, latched door into a warm and cosy room filled with cushions and coffee chairs. The lower floors were dedicated for having coffee, drinking and talking while those who wished to have dinner were guided to the top of the establishment. Unlike venues Vakhanor usually chose, this was a place for the more civilised individual. For an individual more like Elyna.

“Will this do?”

[Elyna]

Vakhanor didn’t reply to her request and the woman fell silent. At first, she would glance frequently over her shoulder and at the house left behind. She wondered if Malcolm would put Elsie down for a nap, or if the child was upset by the unrest that had been left behind. Malcolm was right though, she needed some time away from the house. Some time to let some of the unreasonable anger go and return, fresh. The young woman couldn’t remember when she’d last had time in the company of a friend. Faith had vanished away from the Eastern Settlement after being injured. Elyna was sure that she’d mentioned a holiday or trip with Padraig and could only assume it was where she was. Wherever she was, the Skyrider was sure that the former slave was bending the world to her view.
The journey passed in relative quiet. Once in the city, Elyna was surprised that they didn’t go towards any of the usual bars but instead wound their way towards the sea-front.
“I don’t think I’ve ever been here,” she admitted and paused to look up at the building. She watched Vakhanor duck inside and quickly checked that the last mud from Vara’s splashing had been wiped off her face. Her shirt was still clean, apart from the sleeve she’d used. The tunic was fresh at least and she took a moment to tuck her shirt into her breaches. Then unfasten her hair, quickly braiding it fresh and tucking away the wayward strands. It had been a long time since she’d been out to dinner and the young woman paused as she ducked beneath the doorway.
There had been that dance, before the campaign had started…and then it had been a luxury to eat at the various taverns when travelling with the army. When was the last time she and Malcolm had been…out together? Had they ever? The year had passed in a blur and she couldn’t remember an occasion that would constitute some kind of date or courting ritual. Once, she’d taken him to the fair. It remained one of her happiest memories; even if it had been quickly soured the next morning. Everything was tinged with bitter-sweetness.
The staircase had the tang of bitter coffee and melted chocolate. She could smell fresh baked cake and icing sugar, but it was the decoration that caught her attention. Vakhanor was left lingering on the steps as she paused on the spirals. At first she’d walked past the decorated walls, until she’d turned and walked back down the way she’d come and stared at the intricate patterns. The sea rose up in green and blue. Tiny white tiles washed against a boat with wide sales. Without thinking, she reached out, smoothing her fingertips across the different textures. The cool ceramic and the bobbly grey grout. Some of the tiles were patterned with ridges and transfixed, she followed the artwork up the slow spiral of stairs until Vakh beckoned her through the wooden door.
She grinned at him, the expression genuine and unguarded. She peered around the next spiral, wistful and made a silent promise that she would one day return and explore the entire artwork. The young woman ducked through the entrance. “It’s beautiful,” and all the worries left behind in the house, seemed a little further way.
Elyna picked her way through the jumble of soft furniture and sank into a chair beside the window. It felt too large for her, reaching up and curling around her shoulders. Conscious of the curve of her abdomen, the woman pulled a cushion off the nearest sofa and wrapped her arms around it, like a child would hold a teddy bear. Her attention drifted around the surrounds before finally out of the window. “Thank you, Vakh-” his offer to pay was generous and she knew better than to try and argue with him about it. Last time it had been a disaster. “I’ll let you pay, if next time you let me pick up the bill…alright?”
A younger woman with pale hair pulled back from a thin face approached to take their order. Elyna requested a drink of elderflower cordial and clean water. The girl took the details of Vakhs’ request and vanished. The room was almost empty, with an elderly couple in the corner sipping tea.
Once the drinks had arrived, the skyrider pulled her pottery mug towards her and studied the clear liquid. Though it was still early Ashan it was going to be a warmer day outside. Finally a break in the cold, snowy weather and the endless grey. Soft light spilled in through the window and she shifted in her seat, like a cat wriggling to get comfortable in their favourite spot.
“I’m sorry,” Elyna was usually the first to apologise. She stared at the red-headed man in front of her. He had piercing blue eyes and rugged complexion. Vakhanor had been a life-raft in some of the worst moments of her life. Yet even he hadn’t been there in Burhan. “I’m sorry that you walked into a battlefield today,” she took a sip.
“Where have you been all winter?”

[Vakhanor]

Watching his friend Vakh stood still in awe of the way the sunlight lit her face with a soft glow and smiled at the child like display of wonder, in a way Elyna reminded him of Bjorn. Then the thought occurred to him in his mind, did he see Elyna as a child?

Ice digging into earth, Vakh stopped in the middle of the room and studied the possibility that what he sought of Elyna was to replace the gaping hole that Bjorn’s death had created for him. Shaking away the though from his mind the smith eventually came around and joined the Skyrider in indulging in the comfort of the sofas.

“Where you left me,” he answered, begrudgingly settling into one of the over cushioned sofas. Comfort wasn’t his ally and over time he had discovered that he very rarely enjoyed it, if not for the taste of the good food. What most would associate to happiness and warmth made the smith feel at unrest, the dark light of a forge was when he was most at home. He could feel two sets of curious eyes peering at them from the corner of the room; the older couple had taken an interest in the conversation.

“Anything else I can I get you?” the sweet voice of a young, blonde shy little woman with a pad of parchment asked of them, Elyna was the first to answer.

A smile lit up on Vakhanor’s face “What’s your favourite drink here sweetheart?” he asked, leaning forward with his elbows rested against his knees.

Alarmed and unsure of herself the waiter glanced over at Elyna with uncertainty and stifled a laugh “I uhh, well… The cinnamon and honey tea is nice.”

“I’ll have that then,” Vakh replied reaching into his pocket to hand her the coin and some extra “take the rest to help feed you or your family.”

The waitress nodded “I’ll be right back.” The woman turned on her heels and practically ran, rushing out of the door as if she had just gone through something terrifying.

Shrugging away his confusion Vakhanor returned his attention to his younger companion. Elyna was as bizarre as she was beautiful, and yet there was something that he found less attractive about her than he had when they first met. Maybe it was because they had gotten to know each other, or maybe it was because of the whole ‘battlefield.’ “Elyna. What part did you have to play in the destruction of my home?” he asked, lowering his gaze to the polished wood floor. For cycles the questions had been playing in his head “That’s why you originally returned to Burhan, isn’t it?”

[Elyna]

“In the market place?” Elyna turned to look at the elderly couple and smiled at them, acknowledging their hairy-eared interest. It was almost amusing to watch Vakh and the serving girl. The blonde seemed to have taken an interest in her handsome friend. She sometimes forgot that the man had a decade of years on her. Maybe she didn’t take too much notice of it, because her lover was the best part of four centuries older. Age didn’t seem very relative these days…it didn’t help that Elsie seemed more like a one arc old toddler than a three season baby.

“I think she liked you,” Elyna masked her cautious smile behind her drink then turned to watch a gull swoop past the window. Peering at the bird until she was confident she had her expression under control. Vakhanors next question was enough to see the smile wiped from her features, with no sign of returning.

She sat up and discarded the pillow, lent forward with her elbows resting on her knees as she studied him. “You’re asking if I betrayed my king and turned traitor?” The woman frowned, dark brows drawn together as she shook her head. “Vakhanor, I will only tell you the truth…” she took a sip to whet her dry mouth.

“I was sent to Burhan to gather information,” her voice dropped, “barely anyone knew about the wedding – so it was believed that I would be safe as Marcus’s fiancé.” The woman lifted a shoulder in a shrug. Things had gone very differently to how they’d been expected.

[Vakhanor]

Thought claimed the forefront of Vakhanor’s face as he carefully listened to the explanation and nodded slowly. The affections of the waitress girl did not matter to him. Whether or not the legitimacy of Elyna's story was true Vakhanor could not tell, his trust in nobility was challenged at best and yet, as a friend he was obligated to trust her. “Then I owe you,” he remarked, lifting his head to meet her gaze “A man who was like a father to me died in that war. I was angry and grieving. You were somebody to blame…” Remorse entered the smith’s expression and he turned away from Elyna, afraid to show her any more weakness than he already had.

Wordless Vakhanor reflected on his actions with a calm and humbled understanding of what her life must have been like since she had gone there. Marcus was the man that she was supposed to marry when they met, the man she chose not to be with. “Were you safe?” the thought trailed from his lips. He had come to the realisation that he had been a failure to her in a time that he knew she needed a friend.

Cycles had spurred Vakhanor into loneliness, the hatred he had for the world was fed by the anger he had harboured for her up until the moment he had heard of Elyna killing Veljorn Burhan. Only then had he realised his mistake. Clasping a finger around his wrist Vakh looked down at it, starring idly at the bone that stuck out beneath the skin. He had become slave to another chain of guilt made by his own doing, bound to the woman by his own twisted form of honour once again.

[Elyna]

“I’m sorry that you lost someone you love,” though it wasn’t her fault. At least she could understand his anger towards her, in part. A noble…he’d always seen her as a noble despite what he’d shouted. The woman glanced at the establishment they were in with fresh-eyes. He hadn’t thought she’d like the stories, he’d thought it was a suitable place to take a noblewoman. He was right. Whilst she loved the intricate details of the place, her Mother would have loved the ambiance and the quiet and most of all, the expensive prices. She doubted her Father would have noticed anything…only that he’d been forced out of the study or the judiciary offices. Nobles made war, apparently. Well, in the case of her traitorous Uncle it was true. Didn’t everyone scrabble for power, and more control over their own lives. Some were better positioned to seize it.

“Were you safe?”

Silence was the only answer that she could give, at first. She took another sip of her drink, clutching the pottery with hands that shivered. Why was everyone obsessed with Burhan and Saun? Everyone wanted to know and she just wanted to leave it behind. She couldn’t though, because the nightmares came whenever it was too warm at night. They’d faded in Cylus because it was so cold and dark but now…with the curve of her abdomen swelling a little more each day, they were coming back. She woke with tears clinging to her face and sticking to the pillows. Coated in sweat and terror and reaching out, blind for her baby. Then Elsie would stir and curl her fist around her Mother’s fingers and she could rest again. Without Elsie at hand, or the protective wrap of Malcolm’s arm, panic found her.

Elyna realised that she hadn’t spoken and wondered how long she’d been staring at her drink.

“No.”

Malcolm had written to his son and told him about the illegal marriage. Vaughn had passed the message to Marcus and so he had known about the wedding. He had known that she was in love with someone else. He had known that any suggestion of their engagement was false…and that she wasn’t a rebel. She'd been more than half-way through her pregnancy and unable to defend herself.

“They held me…till Saun. When I saw my chance to escape I killed my Uncle.”

[Vakhanor]

Silence cut through Vakhanor like a knife and in the moments she chose not to reply he knew the answer before she even voiced it. Without another word Vakhanor rose from his seat and knelt down, gently folding both of his stocky arms around her “You’re a good girl Ely. Well done for getting through,” he muttered and placed a kiss to her forehead.

Tension had always been strong between the two of them and Vakh had often tried to place a certain amount of distance between them. Love saw no maker though and his affection for Elyna was strong whether his morality permitted it or not. All this time Vakhanor knew that he loved the woman, he knew that she had a shard of his broken heart. However, he also knew that she belonged to another, that even should she make all of his dreams come true for a small and tender amount of time he would never be able to live with himself. Elyna would go back to Malcolm eventually; she would go back to the man who made her happy in the fear of his darkness. A friend, a father, a brother, those were the best he could do for her.

From the corner of his eye Vakh could see the waitress returning with his drink, flushed with red as she watched the close encounter between the two while the old couple watched from the corner, grinning with amusement and pretending they weren’t looking. Pulling back to quickly place his drink on the table, the smith was quick to return his attention to the Skyrider and gently placed his hand over Elyna’s “It’s going to be alright.”

[Elyna]

His was so tall that he wrapped her up easily in his arms. Tenderness. She couldn’t remember how Malcolm had reacted to the same news…but then she hadn’t been willing to tell him. The young woman had tried to escape the summer and hadn’t wanted to give up her secrets and her shame. The Mortalborn man had been angry, they’d been fighting…his Father had cursed her and it had been easier to talk. The words had fallen from her lips like poison. She remained unmoving except the gentle rise of her chest as she stared at the man across from her. She could have been one of the carvings, a panel that decorated the room. Her story laid out, a sequence of mistakes, each one worse than the last.

The young woman missed the returning waitress and the looks of the elderly couple. Bought back to life by the touch on her hand, she shifted, startled as she stared at Vakhanor. Her dark eyes remained the colour of copper beneath a sunny day. She needed to stop comparing her friend to her lover. Malcolm had been distraught, broken by the physical scars that Marcus had left on her body. What she couldn't remember...was any tenderness.

It’s going to be alright. The words rung like a bell before she shook her head. Hair falling from side to side. “I don’t think it will, Vakh,” the answer was flat and calm. “I think that everything is different…” she swallowed and shook off the weighty feeling off wood from her limbs, “but I think that’s okay.”

She turned her hand in his to clasp his palm. If she’d noticed the attention from the rest of the room, she ignored it. Silence followed before she squeezed his fingers and lent back. “I want to start a school,” the words came without prompting. “I’ve always wanted to do it. I want to teach young women how to fight…and older ones too, and the boys and men – anyone who needs it. No one should feel powerless.”

[Vakhanor]

Genuine warmth entered Vakh’s features and he laughed with a large toothy smile “You have more power than you think.” Shifting beside her Vakh awkwardly fitted himself into the space in Elyna’s chair and wrapped an arm around her, just like he would have done to comfort one of his friends when he was a child. Elyna had grown since he’d last saw her, she was right in saying that change was okay and things weren’t going to be as they were. He was glad that she was coming to grips with the situation.

“The good things about Elyna Burhan…” he started with a grin as he relaxed back into the unnecessarily over cushioned chair “You’re beautiful, headstrong, kind, proud, a warrior and a terrible liar.” Vakhanor bowed his head, even as a kid he’d never been good at the whole cheering-people-up scene, but he’d at least give it his best shot.

He felt like a little boy again, sitting in a cosy room with his best friend while his mother was out finding a man that she could sell herself to for money. Lyssindra tried her best to hide it from him back then, unfortunately for her Vakh had been far too astute to remain ignorant for long and eventually ended up paying for all the medicine for her herbal teas and abortions. A rush of uncertainty and guilt overcame the grown man as he tried to justify the reasons for what she did to herself and none came to him. The money, the sadness, the labour; his hatred for what his mother did was the reason for his vow, the vow to never to fuck a woman that didn’t belong to him for as long as he lived.

[Elyna]

It wasn’t a large chair, so the woman found herself squashed between the broad-shouldered Aukari and the soft cushions and his arm around her back. It was a disconcerting feeling and strangely comfortable. He was warm and she missed the sensation of being held tight. Alarms sounded in her mind and heart that she should excuse herself from the situation. More power than she thought? It was hard not to smile. A general of the Xiur Skyriders and the first in line to inherit the duchy from her Grandparents after her Father…she could have been a powerful person. Vakhanor had been lucky to visit the house on the rare occasion that both she and Malcolm weren’t working. Before her pregnancy became too advanced, she wanted to put enough in place to see the Skyriders through the Spring. The Iron Hand was busy with the civil unrest in the city and trying to split it’s limited forces to search what felt like the whole of Idalos for rogue Qe’Dreki.

“The good things about Elyna Burhan…” It started a warm feeling in the pit of her stomach. The world was turning a little upside down. Her breath came harder in her lungs. It would be so easy, just to turn in his arm and pull that mouth down to hers. Her palms were clammy, mouth dry with anticipation. She reminded herself that this was ridiculous. How her head could be turned by something so pathetic as kindness. A willingness to pay attention to her…to invite her out for a drink? A beggar, catching scraps of affection and revelling in them.

Sick with herself, the woman lent forward and stood, easing herself out of the chair. She bent and pressed a kiss to Vakh’s cheek before withdrawing and putting a determined distance between them. “The good things about Vakhanor…” she murmured against his ear. “His smile, his kindness and the truth he wields like a blunt axe.” She straightened again and finished her drink. “Will I see you again? Soon?”