Post by Thea on Nov 23, 2020 0:22:37 GMT -5
Sarah was starting to become familiar with the place Aideen had called her “haven”. A place of absolute comfort, like hot chocolate on snow days and Tater’s soft snores. She woke up slowly, eyes heavy and soul at peace. A smile warmed her face as she reached out to touch one of the golden flowers. She would swear that it had met her touch, warm from the sun’s rays that it captured with its petals.
“So you have finally returned.”
Her body reacted before her mind did: her arms pushed her so that she sat up, heart in her throat, eyes wide as saucers. An obvious startled reaction, she would say, but the one who startled her looked at her with a disappointed expression. “Skiddish. As I was afraid of.”
The being was a woman, one that was familiar to her. Her hair was the same shade as the flowers and Sarah, pulled away from her face in a single thick braid that rested over her shoulder. Her eyes were Sarah’s too, yet looked haunted and cynical. Her lips, a pale rosy color, were flattened, showing Sarah just how tight this woman had her braid.
She looked old. That’s why Sarah didn’t place her right away. She was one of the three … whatever that was in this field the last time she was here. The human. The leader. But she didn’t exude any of that confidence now. Rather, she looked hardened, near brittle.
The woman stood up from her crouch, then extended her hand to Sarah. Her body was covered in armor. It wasn’t polished or smooth. Sarah could see that it used to be painted, if the chipped spots on the plates were any indication. At the woman’s side was a sword, sheathed in a black leather piece. She could see the hilt, inlaid with small rubies.
Bloodsbane.
“Not the name I would have chosen for it,” the woman murmured, as if Sarah had spoken her thought aloud. When she heaved Sarah up from her spot on the ground, she continued. “Though word travels fast, and imaginations run wild. Bloodsbane is an heirloom. It’s seen many things before I came along.”
Sarah looked from the woman to the hilt, then back to the woman again. “It fits it, though.”
She was gifted with a ghost of a smile. “Doesn’t it?”
There was silence between them, in which Sarah recalled what was said before she woke up on the island. There was a question that she wanted to ask. Yet at the same time, she didn’t want to break the silence.
“My name is Edraele,” the armored woman answered it, turning to fully face Sarah. They were exactly at eye level, Sarah observed. Like looking at a reflection. “Edraele of House Oriven, Queen of Veneifri in the Third Age. Demon Slayer, The Dancing Queen, and the Mad Monarch.”
“You … and the others…”
“We are all you, yes,” Edraele said, nodding firmly, gauntlet resting on Bloodsbane’s pommel. Sarah didn’t realize it until now, but in her other hand was a dented helmet, its visor up. “The other two are more … well, I’m not sure how to explain it, but you are a reincarnation of me.”
Sarah was familiar with the phrase. Felicity had said once that their family had a tendency to reincarnate. But she had thought that Ireland was their origin. It would make more sense to her if who stood in front of her was from Ireland. She’s never heard of Veneifri before. Not to mention the fact that Edraele claimed to be a queen…
“This must have been what Alister had been talking about,” Sarah said aloud, remembering when she told him not to bow to her.
“Mmm, yes, it seems that way,” Edraele replied. “He’s more perceptive than what we’ve given him credit for.”
“We, as in, you and me?” Sarah asked, waving her hand back and forth between the two.
Edraele nodded. “As much as demons go, he is the best one yet.”
Somehow, she knew that Edraele was telling the truth. But she had another question popping up in her mind. “Where is Veneifri?”
“A small country west of the Isles. But we’re not here for a geography lesson.” Edraele looked away, down to the ground at the flowers. “When our people first arrived to the land my grandfather would christen Veneifri, these were considered weeds. Pretty to see, with their sunny petals and vibrant leaves. But we weren’t concerned with pretty. We were concerned with survival.
“The Veneifrians started cultivating the fields, ripping these flowers from the roots to feed to the animals that had called the land home before we did. It wasn’t until my father took over the throne that we fully realized their potential. These flowers were seen as nothing more than food to our food, annoying as they were because they seemed to grow where there was sunlight - not a scarce resource in Veneifri. Then, suddenly, they were in everything: paintings, sculptures, medicines, food. The yellow of the petals were used as dye to color fabric.”
When she looked back at Sarah, there was a smile, as if she had heard something just a tad funny. “By the time I became queen, the flowers were hard to come by. They grew where there was plenty of sunlight, but they started growing in hard-to-reach places. On cliff faces and basins where only the birds could reach. Places that people couldn’t get to, but were also not very friendly for things that grow.
“Maybe it was selfish to compare us to them. After all, we weren’t very … respectful, I guess, to the flowers. We didn’t see what they offered to us in the beginning, then took them for granted when we did. Yet, we saw us in them. Seemingly soft, yet able to overcome adversity big and small.” She lifted one shoulder. “Haspeds are resilient.”
So that’s what they were called.
“Is that your lesson for me?” Sarah asked, feeling that her past self hadn’t been a talk-for-no-reason person. Edraele told her this for a reason.
“Maybe you aren’t that thick-headed,” the queen said, deadpan. Sarah immediately felt embarrassed, cheeks aflame in a wash of red. Embarrassed and … slightly offended. Edraele acted as if she didn’t see that her comment was rude. Or maybe didn’t care. “There is still something that is holding you back from us. Release what no longer serves you first. Until you do, you cannot be who you are meant to be.”
“So you have finally returned.”
Her body reacted before her mind did: her arms pushed her so that she sat up, heart in her throat, eyes wide as saucers. An obvious startled reaction, she would say, but the one who startled her looked at her with a disappointed expression. “Skiddish. As I was afraid of.”
The being was a woman, one that was familiar to her. Her hair was the same shade as the flowers and Sarah, pulled away from her face in a single thick braid that rested over her shoulder. Her eyes were Sarah’s too, yet looked haunted and cynical. Her lips, a pale rosy color, were flattened, showing Sarah just how tight this woman had her braid.
She looked old. That’s why Sarah didn’t place her right away. She was one of the three … whatever that was in this field the last time she was here. The human. The leader. But she didn’t exude any of that confidence now. Rather, she looked hardened, near brittle.
The woman stood up from her crouch, then extended her hand to Sarah. Her body was covered in armor. It wasn’t polished or smooth. Sarah could see that it used to be painted, if the chipped spots on the plates were any indication. At the woman’s side was a sword, sheathed in a black leather piece. She could see the hilt, inlaid with small rubies.
Bloodsbane.
“Not the name I would have chosen for it,” the woman murmured, as if Sarah had spoken her thought aloud. When she heaved Sarah up from her spot on the ground, she continued. “Though word travels fast, and imaginations run wild. Bloodsbane is an heirloom. It’s seen many things before I came along.”
Sarah looked from the woman to the hilt, then back to the woman again. “It fits it, though.”
She was gifted with a ghost of a smile. “Doesn’t it?”
There was silence between them, in which Sarah recalled what was said before she woke up on the island. There was a question that she wanted to ask. Yet at the same time, she didn’t want to break the silence.
“My name is Edraele,” the armored woman answered it, turning to fully face Sarah. They were exactly at eye level, Sarah observed. Like looking at a reflection. “Edraele of House Oriven, Queen of Veneifri in the Third Age. Demon Slayer, The Dancing Queen, and the Mad Monarch.”
“You … and the others…”
“We are all you, yes,” Edraele said, nodding firmly, gauntlet resting on Bloodsbane’s pommel. Sarah didn’t realize it until now, but in her other hand was a dented helmet, its visor up. “The other two are more … well, I’m not sure how to explain it, but you are a reincarnation of me.”
Sarah was familiar with the phrase. Felicity had said once that their family had a tendency to reincarnate. But she had thought that Ireland was their origin. It would make more sense to her if who stood in front of her was from Ireland. She’s never heard of Veneifri before. Not to mention the fact that Edraele claimed to be a queen…
“This must have been what Alister had been talking about,” Sarah said aloud, remembering when she told him not to bow to her.
“Mmm, yes, it seems that way,” Edraele replied. “He’s more perceptive than what we’ve given him credit for.”
“We, as in, you and me?” Sarah asked, waving her hand back and forth between the two.
Edraele nodded. “As much as demons go, he is the best one yet.”
Somehow, she knew that Edraele was telling the truth. But she had another question popping up in her mind. “Where is Veneifri?”
“A small country west of the Isles. But we’re not here for a geography lesson.” Edraele looked away, down to the ground at the flowers. “When our people first arrived to the land my grandfather would christen Veneifri, these were considered weeds. Pretty to see, with their sunny petals and vibrant leaves. But we weren’t concerned with pretty. We were concerned with survival.
“The Veneifrians started cultivating the fields, ripping these flowers from the roots to feed to the animals that had called the land home before we did. It wasn’t until my father took over the throne that we fully realized their potential. These flowers were seen as nothing more than food to our food, annoying as they were because they seemed to grow where there was sunlight - not a scarce resource in Veneifri. Then, suddenly, they were in everything: paintings, sculptures, medicines, food. The yellow of the petals were used as dye to color fabric.”
When she looked back at Sarah, there was a smile, as if she had heard something just a tad funny. “By the time I became queen, the flowers were hard to come by. They grew where there was plenty of sunlight, but they started growing in hard-to-reach places. On cliff faces and basins where only the birds could reach. Places that people couldn’t get to, but were also not very friendly for things that grow.
“Maybe it was selfish to compare us to them. After all, we weren’t very … respectful, I guess, to the flowers. We didn’t see what they offered to us in the beginning, then took them for granted when we did. Yet, we saw us in them. Seemingly soft, yet able to overcome adversity big and small.” She lifted one shoulder. “Haspeds are resilient.”
So that’s what they were called.
“Is that your lesson for me?” Sarah asked, feeling that her past self hadn’t been a talk-for-no-reason person. Edraele told her this for a reason.
“Maybe you aren’t that thick-headed,” the queen said, deadpan. Sarah immediately felt embarrassed, cheeks aflame in a wash of red. Embarrassed and … slightly offended. Edraele acted as if she didn’t see that her comment was rude. Or maybe didn’t care. “There is still something that is holding you back from us. Release what no longer serves you first. Until you do, you cannot be who you are meant to be.”