Original // Ravens in the Dark // Part I
Fandom: Original!
Genres: Supernatural, drama, romance, humour, angst, idon’tevenfuckingknow
Rating: K+ for now.
Wordcount: 1353
Summary: Úna was meant to be a Seer, but she failed the test and now none want her. She lives quietly alone, blind and bitter, on the edge of her village... until her once-betrothed returns from his yearlong journey with a new wife and stories of a world wider than the one she knows.
Notes: Oh god, this was meant to be a short story. That means that pretty much everything you’ll be reading for the next month is stuff that a) doesn’t need to exist in the first place and b) was written at freaking lightspeed, and it will likely never recover from either of these.
Whatever. Enjoy? @__@
i: a bad day, not the worst
Her hair was black, her skin was white, and the scars on her eyes were very red.
xxxxx
Úna dreamed, and knew on waking that what she dreamed was true.
A bitter smile bloomed on her face.
“Welcome home,” she whispered to a ceiling she could not see, and rolled out of bed into a bad day.
She would definitely have to wear her best dress for this.
xxxxx
There was frost on the air, she noted as she stepped out of the house. Autumn was here already… it seemed to come earlier every year. This meant a bad harvest from her garden and a long, thin winter.
At least there were hazelnuts to look forward to… one bright spot in a glum future.
The people were still asleep when she reached the town. That was natural. The sun was only barely over the mountains, the dawn coming later now than it had last time she had come. They were creatures of daylight. When the darkness fell, they hid in their sturdy brick homes and waited there for the light to come again, because they were afraid of what they could not see.
It seemed ridiculous to Úna to fear the dark. She had lived in it since her thirteenth birthday and had obviously not died yet. The worst she had suffered were cuts and bruises from running into things which had moved from their rightful places without her knowledge. The shadows held no nightmares for her.
For a handful of moments, she debated with herself over waking the people, then decided not to. It would be easier and less humiliating to deal with the situation without a crowd of people in observance.
Silent as a shadow herself, she slipped through the streets of the town to the north exit, congratulating herself on her perfect timing even as the thudding sounds of trotting hooves striking earth reached her ears.
“At last, the prodigal son returns,” she said loudly in the direction of the noises.
With a pained whinny from one of them, the horses skidded to a stop and whuffled into the dirt, clearly exhausted. Úna frowned. The mistreatment of animals sat ill with her, as she tended to generally like them better than humans. They at least did not intentionally betray one another or attack unexpectedly from behind when the victim was at their most trusting.
“Milady Seer,” replied a familiar voice from the horse closer to her. “Or, should I say, almost-Seer.”
Úna crossed her arms and flattened her mouth. “I would say that I’m glad to have you home, but that would be lying, and unlike some people I prefer not to do that when the truth would serve me better.”
“Well,” said the man on the horse, “I for one am certainly glad to see you. It pains me that my regard is so obviously not returned.”
Her head tilted downwards, her long black hair falling to curtain her face. “It was once,” she whispered involuntarily, one hand flying unbidden to her chest to sooth the old familiar stab of pain. Then, more loudly: “I dreamed you’d fallen off a cliff. It was the best dream of my life. I was very disappointed to find on waking that it was just a regular dream after all.”
The person on the second horse shifted slightly, then spoke up at last. It was a woman, with a river-smooth and surprisingly low voice. “I don’t think she likes you,” she remarked drily.
“Astute observation,” snapped Úna, already disliking the newcomer. “How clever of you.”
With a slither of fabric against leather, the man dismounted and came to stand within a few steps of Úna. “She doesn’t,” he agreed, “but then, she doesn’t like anybody. Don’t be too offended. She’s just a crotchety old spinster cleverly disguised in a pretty young body.”
The layers of irony and injustice in that statement left Úna temporarily speechless. She gaped in his general direction, unable to think of a single thing to say that wouldn’t come out as an enraged sputter. Her heart threatened to tear its way out of her chest and strange his arrogant, smug throat right where he stood.
“Well, are you going to introduce her, or not?” asked the mysterious woman, dismounting as well to come stand close to him.
“That’s right, sir Seanloach,” said Úna with a smirk, managing to calm down slightly. “Where are your manners, boy?”
“Hold your tongue, shrew,” he snapped, then turned to the woman. “Aisling, this is Úna. Úna, my new wife, Aisling.”
Úna swept a graceful courtesy, spreading her thick muslin skirts. “A pleasure,” she said insincerely. “I truly wish you all the best for the life of misery you have condemned yourself to. I am at your service.”
Sean snorted. “Oh, yes. If you ever feel the need to be roundly insulted and condescended to, this is your woman. She also gives wonderful massages. I guarantee you won’t be able to stand up for a week after one of them, they’re amazing.”
“You two are like children,” Aisling said coolly. “I do not know your history, and frankly I do not want to. I am, however, tired from a long journey and if it is all the same to you, would much rather finish with the pleasantries and go to bed than stand here listening to you two sniping at each other all day.”
Despite herself, Úna smiled. “By all means, milady,” she said graciously, spreading her arms in a universal gesture. “Welcome to Maumglen. Do enjoy your stay.”
“Thank you,” Aisling replied stiffly, sweeping past her with a rustle of heavy fabric and a wash of forest air.
Sean sighed. “You could have at least been civil, Úna, it wouldn’t have killed you.”
“In my opinion, if she is stupid enough to marry you, she deserves every ounce of vitriol I can summon up for her. I regret nothing.” The moment the words left her mouth, Úna desperately wished she could retract them. The rejoinder was so obvious, and he was not nearly a decent enough man to let it lie-
“Oh, really? So I assume you’re saving a good half of that vitriol for yourself, then?” he shot waspishly, fulfilling every expectation she had of him.
Not for the first time, she wished it were possible to glare without eyes and settled for a ferocious downturn of the corners of her lips and a furrowed forehead. “Leaving was the only kind thing you have ever done for me,” she said honestly.
Turning southwards into the cool rush of wind rising from the sea far away, she walked away and left him behind, thankful again that she could not cry.
She left the town as it was waking, and heard bleary villagers greet the newcomer to their midst with varying degrees of hospitality.
Her home welcomed her quietly, the scent of frostbitten tea leaves heavy on the air. Should would spend the rest of the afternoon harvesting them and cursing under her breath, wishing over and over again that she were capable of greater detachment.
No matter how she resolved to remain distant from him, no matter how she tried to shut him out of her heart, one word from him inevitably dragged her in like a fish struggling on the line. It had been that way with them since childhood, and it seemed it would always be that way. It seemed terribly unjust that she should still feel so much when he clearly felt so little.
But then the world, she had learned, was not inclined to fairness and never had been. If it had, she would still have eyes and her dreams would not be full of shadowed wings and nameless terrors. Her mother would still be here. The village would not sigh with disappointment whenever they saw her, and Sean would not have left.
No, the world was not fair, and Úna was no longer naïve enough to wish it was. Wishes were the comfort of those too weak to accept the truth.
Úna was tired of being weak.
XxxxxxxX
A/N: THIS IS NOT SUPPOSED TO BE A SOAP OPERA PLEASE GO DIAF T_____T
Genres: Supernatural, drama, romance, humour, angst, idon’tevenfuckingknow
Rating: K+ for now.
Wordcount: 1353
Summary: Úna was meant to be a Seer, but she failed the test and now none want her. She lives quietly alone, blind and bitter, on the edge of her village... until her once-betrothed returns from his yearlong journey with a new wife and stories of a world wider than the one she knows.
Notes: Oh god, this was meant to be a short story. That means that pretty much everything you’ll be reading for the next month is stuff that a) doesn’t need to exist in the first place and b) was written at freaking lightspeed, and it will likely never recover from either of these.
Whatever. Enjoy? @__@
i: a bad day, not the worst
Her hair was black, her skin was white, and the scars on her eyes were very red.
xxxxx
Úna dreamed, and knew on waking that what she dreamed was true.
A bitter smile bloomed on her face.
“Welcome home,” she whispered to a ceiling she could not see, and rolled out of bed into a bad day.
She would definitely have to wear her best dress for this.
xxxxx
There was frost on the air, she noted as she stepped out of the house. Autumn was here already… it seemed to come earlier every year. This meant a bad harvest from her garden and a long, thin winter.
At least there were hazelnuts to look forward to… one bright spot in a glum future.
The people were still asleep when she reached the town. That was natural. The sun was only barely over the mountains, the dawn coming later now than it had last time she had come. They were creatures of daylight. When the darkness fell, they hid in their sturdy brick homes and waited there for the light to come again, because they were afraid of what they could not see.
It seemed ridiculous to Úna to fear the dark. She had lived in it since her thirteenth birthday and had obviously not died yet. The worst she had suffered were cuts and bruises from running into things which had moved from their rightful places without her knowledge. The shadows held no nightmares for her.
For a handful of moments, she debated with herself over waking the people, then decided not to. It would be easier and less humiliating to deal with the situation without a crowd of people in observance.
Silent as a shadow herself, she slipped through the streets of the town to the north exit, congratulating herself on her perfect timing even as the thudding sounds of trotting hooves striking earth reached her ears.
“At last, the prodigal son returns,” she said loudly in the direction of the noises.
With a pained whinny from one of them, the horses skidded to a stop and whuffled into the dirt, clearly exhausted. Úna frowned. The mistreatment of animals sat ill with her, as she tended to generally like them better than humans. They at least did not intentionally betray one another or attack unexpectedly from behind when the victim was at their most trusting.
“Milady Seer,” replied a familiar voice from the horse closer to her. “Or, should I say, almost-Seer.”
Úna crossed her arms and flattened her mouth. “I would say that I’m glad to have you home, but that would be lying, and unlike some people I prefer not to do that when the truth would serve me better.”
“Well,” said the man on the horse, “I for one am certainly glad to see you. It pains me that my regard is so obviously not returned.”
Her head tilted downwards, her long black hair falling to curtain her face. “It was once,” she whispered involuntarily, one hand flying unbidden to her chest to sooth the old familiar stab of pain. Then, more loudly: “I dreamed you’d fallen off a cliff. It was the best dream of my life. I was very disappointed to find on waking that it was just a regular dream after all.”
The person on the second horse shifted slightly, then spoke up at last. It was a woman, with a river-smooth and surprisingly low voice. “I don’t think she likes you,” she remarked drily.
“Astute observation,” snapped Úna, already disliking the newcomer. “How clever of you.”
With a slither of fabric against leather, the man dismounted and came to stand within a few steps of Úna. “She doesn’t,” he agreed, “but then, she doesn’t like anybody. Don’t be too offended. She’s just a crotchety old spinster cleverly disguised in a pretty young body.”
The layers of irony and injustice in that statement left Úna temporarily speechless. She gaped in his general direction, unable to think of a single thing to say that wouldn’t come out as an enraged sputter. Her heart threatened to tear its way out of her chest and strange his arrogant, smug throat right where he stood.
“Well, are you going to introduce her, or not?” asked the mysterious woman, dismounting as well to come stand close to him.
“That’s right, sir Seanloach,” said Úna with a smirk, managing to calm down slightly. “Where are your manners, boy?”
“Hold your tongue, shrew,” he snapped, then turned to the woman. “Aisling, this is Úna. Úna, my new wife, Aisling.”
Úna swept a graceful courtesy, spreading her thick muslin skirts. “A pleasure,” she said insincerely. “I truly wish you all the best for the life of misery you have condemned yourself to. I am at your service.”
Sean snorted. “Oh, yes. If you ever feel the need to be roundly insulted and condescended to, this is your woman. She also gives wonderful massages. I guarantee you won’t be able to stand up for a week after one of them, they’re amazing.”
“You two are like children,” Aisling said coolly. “I do not know your history, and frankly I do not want to. I am, however, tired from a long journey and if it is all the same to you, would much rather finish with the pleasantries and go to bed than stand here listening to you two sniping at each other all day.”
Despite herself, Úna smiled. “By all means, milady,” she said graciously, spreading her arms in a universal gesture. “Welcome to Maumglen. Do enjoy your stay.”
“Thank you,” Aisling replied stiffly, sweeping past her with a rustle of heavy fabric and a wash of forest air.
Sean sighed. “You could have at least been civil, Úna, it wouldn’t have killed you.”
“In my opinion, if she is stupid enough to marry you, she deserves every ounce of vitriol I can summon up for her. I regret nothing.” The moment the words left her mouth, Úna desperately wished she could retract them. The rejoinder was so obvious, and he was not nearly a decent enough man to let it lie-
“Oh, really? So I assume you’re saving a good half of that vitriol for yourself, then?” he shot waspishly, fulfilling every expectation she had of him.
Not for the first time, she wished it were possible to glare without eyes and settled for a ferocious downturn of the corners of her lips and a furrowed forehead. “Leaving was the only kind thing you have ever done for me,” she said honestly.
Turning southwards into the cool rush of wind rising from the sea far away, she walked away and left him behind, thankful again that she could not cry.
She left the town as it was waking, and heard bleary villagers greet the newcomer to their midst with varying degrees of hospitality.
Her home welcomed her quietly, the scent of frostbitten tea leaves heavy on the air. Should would spend the rest of the afternoon harvesting them and cursing under her breath, wishing over and over again that she were capable of greater detachment.
No matter how she resolved to remain distant from him, no matter how she tried to shut him out of her heart, one word from him inevitably dragged her in like a fish struggling on the line. It had been that way with them since childhood, and it seemed it would always be that way. It seemed terribly unjust that she should still feel so much when he clearly felt so little.
But then the world, she had learned, was not inclined to fairness and never had been. If it had, she would still have eyes and her dreams would not be full of shadowed wings and nameless terrors. Her mother would still be here. The village would not sigh with disappointment whenever they saw her, and Sean would not have left.
No, the world was not fair, and Úna was no longer naïve enough to wish it was. Wishes were the comfort of those too weak to accept the truth.
Úna was tired of being weak.
XxxxxxxX
A/N: THIS IS NOT SUPPOSED TO BE A SOAP OPERA PLEASE GO DIAF T_____T