Post by Eurydice on May 26, 2007 23:41:48 GMT -5
((Close to a year after Trilarese, maybe a month before Frost Reach))
Maura sat bolt upright in bed, with no idea of why she had awoken. Her conversation with her father from several days ago was playing out in her head, and she didn’t know why that was either.
“Please don’t make me leave,” she whispered, painfully aware of how much effort it took to keep her voice steady.
Her father laughed, seeming almost near hysteria. The sound of it frightened her, but she held her ground. “I’m not doing this because I want to, Maura. And it’s certainly not a question of wanting you gone. It’s… not safe for you to stay.”
Maura said nothing. She wanted to be strong, prove that he’d taught her well this past… year? It had felt like longer. She wanted to show him how much she’d grown. But all she could do was stand there and stare, helpless, beaten, and miserable, trying to hide her unhappiness.
Bryant exhaled softly, on the edge of exasperation. He went to her, placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. He spoke slowly and clearly, as if to a small child. “Maura. I am not kicking you out. I enjoy having you here. I fear for your safety if you stay much longer.” He sighed again. “I will not tell you to leave—this is your home, so long as you desire to stay—but I ask that you promise me something.”
She shivered at his touch. It felt like tendrils of ice holding her.
“When it is time to leave,” he said, “when this place is no longer safe, do not waste your training and potential. Run, and do not look back.”
Asriel was standing at the foot of her bed, tensed and alert; his ears lay flat against his head, and he was growling quietly. He was staring at the door.
Trying to remember the dream from which she had awoken or whose dreams she had been watching, Maura rolled out of bed, her head filled with the cobwebs and confusion of one involuntarily pulled from sleep. She glanced at Asriel and pressed her ear to the door.
She heard nothing.
And then, in a flash of terror and grief, she knew something was wrong; the walls were shimmering, darkening, fading out of focus; the window, which had been an ever-changing delight, a new landscape each time it caught her eye, was melting into itself, blurring, the edges unraveling, as if the fabric of existence had a few loose threads being pulled away insistently until eventually, there would be nothing left at all.
“How will I know when I’ll have to leave?” she asked.
Bryant sighed and turned to go. “You’ll know.”
Maura’s eyes went wide as she registered the sight of the window. And then she moved. All of her belongings had been kept in meticulous order these last few days—a first for Maura, who could never hope to keep her things neat—and she swept them now into neat little bundles, into a traveling bag, closing it with shaky hands. Asriel was pressing his head against her hand, insistent and urgent. She glanced down at him and then to the door again. “Don’t let me look back,” she said softly, as she swung the bag over her shoulder and fastened the sword to her side.
She walked back to the door, wondering what she would find in the hallway beyond. She was terrified, but she was Lady Maura Mordrellyn, Bryant’s daughter, and she would not show fear. Taking a breath, she opened the door.
As Bryant dropped his hand and turned to go, a memory flashed into Maura’s mind, and she voiced it before she even realized what she was doing. “She said to send you her love.”
Bryant paused, looking at her. “What?”
It was too late to stop; the words were tumbling out of her helplessly. “At Solstice. In the memory. I talked to her. Angelina. The memory of her, only it wasn’t her in the memory, because she knew who I really was and what was happening to you, and I don’t know what part of her it was, but she said that if there was an appropriate moment, I should tell you that she loves you, but there’s never an appropriate moment, and I don’t know when I’ll have to leave and run without looking back…” She trailed off, almost afraid to look at him. “She wanted me to tell you,” she said, after a moment. “That’s all.”
Bryant was staring silently at nothing, running a hand through his hair. After a moment, he laughed quietly. “Why she decides to come and chat with everyone but me, I will never understand.” He shook his head. “Or maybe I do understand.
“Regardless, thanks for the message.” He walked out.
The hallway before her was slowly falling apart. If it had merely been the stone crumbling, that would have been bad enough, but it wasn’t. It was paler, somehow, less tangible. Patches of the floor and wall were dark, grainy, and muddled; other patches were so light and faded that she could barely make them out. And among all of it, only one piece of the dreamscape before her stood out clearly: the door. Angie’s door. The door her father had paused before and struck in his nighttime wanderings, the one she had tried to open only a few weeks ago.
Bryant and Ranial had both gone for the night, and Maura had just been waiting for an opportunity like this. The question of what was behind that door had been eating away at her for the better part of a year, and now she’d find out.
Asriel sat by her bedroom door, his green eyes focused on the hallway, ready to alert her if anyone else approached. His dark fur bristled in the moonlight streaming in through the windows.
Maura listened at the door, checked for any magical wards, and found none; all she could sense was a void in the order magic that held the keep together. With a shrug, she turned the handle.
The doorknob burned her, cold fire and pain; her vision twisted and blurred, and it was all she could do to keep from screaming—or was she only not screaming because she was too surprised and frightened to make any sound at all, the breath stolen away from her? She could feel herself being torn to pieces, the floor rumbling and opening up beneath her, her hand burning, enveloped in cold fire, her eyes melting, her body writhing, twisting, helplessly hurting, and then, with a yank, she found herself on the ground a few feet away, Asriel growling beside her, his teeth locked in her sleeve.
Hugging Asriel, she stood and stumbled back to her room, terrified that her father somehow knew.
In front of that doorway, Bryant stood, shattered pieces of the door scattered around his feet.
Maura wanted to look in his eyes, see if it was him there or someone else. She wanted to pull him away from the door, beg him to stop. She wanted to step out and just get a glimpse of whatever was through that doorway, to know what it was that made him stop in front of that door so many nights, bowed in grief and pain.
She didn’t.
“Goodbye, Father,” she whispered. “I love you. I hope you know how much all of this meant to me.” She took in the sight of him one last time, knowing she might never see him again. “And I wish I could have done something… anything… to help.”
Maura forced her gaze to the end of the hallway and bolted.
Maura sat bolt upright in bed, with no idea of why she had awoken. Her conversation with her father from several days ago was playing out in her head, and she didn’t know why that was either.
“Please don’t make me leave,” she whispered, painfully aware of how much effort it took to keep her voice steady.
Her father laughed, seeming almost near hysteria. The sound of it frightened her, but she held her ground. “I’m not doing this because I want to, Maura. And it’s certainly not a question of wanting you gone. It’s… not safe for you to stay.”
Maura said nothing. She wanted to be strong, prove that he’d taught her well this past… year? It had felt like longer. She wanted to show him how much she’d grown. But all she could do was stand there and stare, helpless, beaten, and miserable, trying to hide her unhappiness.
Bryant exhaled softly, on the edge of exasperation. He went to her, placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. He spoke slowly and clearly, as if to a small child. “Maura. I am not kicking you out. I enjoy having you here. I fear for your safety if you stay much longer.” He sighed again. “I will not tell you to leave—this is your home, so long as you desire to stay—but I ask that you promise me something.”
She shivered at his touch. It felt like tendrils of ice holding her.
“When it is time to leave,” he said, “when this place is no longer safe, do not waste your training and potential. Run, and do not look back.”
Asriel was standing at the foot of her bed, tensed and alert; his ears lay flat against his head, and he was growling quietly. He was staring at the door.
Trying to remember the dream from which she had awoken or whose dreams she had been watching, Maura rolled out of bed, her head filled with the cobwebs and confusion of one involuntarily pulled from sleep. She glanced at Asriel and pressed her ear to the door.
She heard nothing.
And then, in a flash of terror and grief, she knew something was wrong; the walls were shimmering, darkening, fading out of focus; the window, which had been an ever-changing delight, a new landscape each time it caught her eye, was melting into itself, blurring, the edges unraveling, as if the fabric of existence had a few loose threads being pulled away insistently until eventually, there would be nothing left at all.
“How will I know when I’ll have to leave?” she asked.
Bryant sighed and turned to go. “You’ll know.”
Maura’s eyes went wide as she registered the sight of the window. And then she moved. All of her belongings had been kept in meticulous order these last few days—a first for Maura, who could never hope to keep her things neat—and she swept them now into neat little bundles, into a traveling bag, closing it with shaky hands. Asriel was pressing his head against her hand, insistent and urgent. She glanced down at him and then to the door again. “Don’t let me look back,” she said softly, as she swung the bag over her shoulder and fastened the sword to her side.
She walked back to the door, wondering what she would find in the hallway beyond. She was terrified, but she was Lady Maura Mordrellyn, Bryant’s daughter, and she would not show fear. Taking a breath, she opened the door.
As Bryant dropped his hand and turned to go, a memory flashed into Maura’s mind, and she voiced it before she even realized what she was doing. “She said to send you her love.”
Bryant paused, looking at her. “What?”
It was too late to stop; the words were tumbling out of her helplessly. “At Solstice. In the memory. I talked to her. Angelina. The memory of her, only it wasn’t her in the memory, because she knew who I really was and what was happening to you, and I don’t know what part of her it was, but she said that if there was an appropriate moment, I should tell you that she loves you, but there’s never an appropriate moment, and I don’t know when I’ll have to leave and run without looking back…” She trailed off, almost afraid to look at him. “She wanted me to tell you,” she said, after a moment. “That’s all.”
Bryant was staring silently at nothing, running a hand through his hair. After a moment, he laughed quietly. “Why she decides to come and chat with everyone but me, I will never understand.” He shook his head. “Or maybe I do understand.
“Regardless, thanks for the message.” He walked out.
The hallway before her was slowly falling apart. If it had merely been the stone crumbling, that would have been bad enough, but it wasn’t. It was paler, somehow, less tangible. Patches of the floor and wall were dark, grainy, and muddled; other patches were so light and faded that she could barely make them out. And among all of it, only one piece of the dreamscape before her stood out clearly: the door. Angie’s door. The door her father had paused before and struck in his nighttime wanderings, the one she had tried to open only a few weeks ago.
Bryant and Ranial had both gone for the night, and Maura had just been waiting for an opportunity like this. The question of what was behind that door had been eating away at her for the better part of a year, and now she’d find out.
Asriel sat by her bedroom door, his green eyes focused on the hallway, ready to alert her if anyone else approached. His dark fur bristled in the moonlight streaming in through the windows.
Maura listened at the door, checked for any magical wards, and found none; all she could sense was a void in the order magic that held the keep together. With a shrug, she turned the handle.
The doorknob burned her, cold fire and pain; her vision twisted and blurred, and it was all she could do to keep from screaming—or was she only not screaming because she was too surprised and frightened to make any sound at all, the breath stolen away from her? She could feel herself being torn to pieces, the floor rumbling and opening up beneath her, her hand burning, enveloped in cold fire, her eyes melting, her body writhing, twisting, helplessly hurting, and then, with a yank, she found herself on the ground a few feet away, Asriel growling beside her, his teeth locked in her sleeve.
Hugging Asriel, she stood and stumbled back to her room, terrified that her father somehow knew.
In front of that doorway, Bryant stood, shattered pieces of the door scattered around his feet.
Maura wanted to look in his eyes, see if it was him there or someone else. She wanted to pull him away from the door, beg him to stop. She wanted to step out and just get a glimpse of whatever was through that doorway, to know what it was that made him stop in front of that door so many nights, bowed in grief and pain.
She didn’t.
“Goodbye, Father,” she whispered. “I love you. I hope you know how much all of this meant to me.” She took in the sight of him one last time, knowing she might never see him again. “And I wish I could have done something… anything… to help.”
Maura forced her gaze to the end of the hallway and bolted.