THE OCCIA + AVITH // night walk

[homagedue]

Who: Avith & the Occia
When: The night of the ball
Where: The citadel and the city streets
Rating & Warnings: G

The night was quiet below the Citadel. Quieter, at least. Even with a ball on, the poor, the sick, the homeless would still be clamouring at the Citadel's walls, and faithful men and women would be at the doors to see to their needs. Further towards the Occia's chambers it was dead silence. The other Cancellari were absorbed in their own tasks, and Avith, with nothing on his plate, found himself in their meeting room, peering out the large windows onto the streets below. It had gone dark an hour or so before, but the lanterns and lights that illuminated the streets made it easy to spot the people going about their business, whatever that business might be.

He adjusted his cloak on his shoulders. It was still warm, the heat of the day still trapped in the atmosphere, but he was never keen to take off his cloak. Too many things of use and importance lay hidden in it. In truth, he wore two- the official cloak of the Cancellari and his own, which housed everything from coins to knives. The heaviness of them also minimized attention brought to the sword at his hip. He was supposed to be mostly pascifist, but too many years in the army had taught him never to be without his sword where he could help it. Even in the presence of the Occia.

Speaking of, he flipped through his ledger again. He looked at it from time to time, but found himself without many words to put into it. For the best, perhaps- he was Cancellarius, after all, though even now he did not truly feel like one. He had too many doubts, he felt, though he would do what was asked of him. It did not seem the sort of thing one could resign from, however, and he found he was loathe to leave the Occia. She was much too young at heart still for his tastes, to be in such a position. Was this a crisis of faith? It was not the first time he'd had these thoughts. Even now she was writing away to the people of Tyrol with the best of intentions in her heart. It seemed foolish to doubt, and yet...

He turned, shutting the ledger, and went in search of the Occia to check up on her. It was getting late. That she was still awake surprised him.

After her brother fell asleep, the Occia would slip out of her bedroom and pad around the citadel in bare feet. The cold stone of the floor was a comfort and as the draft made her pull her dressing gown shut, she thrilled to be alone and awake inside Cita's house. Whenever she went walking in the day, she had to deal with Priests and Initiates trying to be good to her. They were good to her already by serving her husband. She didn't want their praises to be the only thing she heard. It was nice to hear people laughing outside the citadel, or crow caws from the roosts on the roof. She did not feel caged. Truly, she was grateful for her position. But it was hard to remain pure, reclusive and sane all at once...

She crept down the hallway towards a distant halo of candlelight. Any other seventeen year-old might have tried to scare the candle-holder, or at least announce their presence. Instead, she backed up against the wall, her shoulders drawn up, and tried not to look too scared. If they were an assassin, she would not show fear! She would die and join her husband with dignity. Still, she trembled.

He did not sleep well. That he was awake was not a surprise in the least. He did not know many who had made it out of the wars to sleep well, and with the added duty of bodyguard he found that a few hours at night did well enough for him to carry on through the next day, and the next, and the next. He and his father had spoken of it once, but not in great detail. Another reason why he did not go back home as much as he used to.

All he could hear was the sound of his footsteps, clearly audible when all else was silent. But there was a moment, the briefest moment, where he could hear the rustle of fabric, a sudden, muted intake of breath, and he paused, the castle steady in front of him. A figure stood ahead, but the darkness was just so that he could not be certain of what he saw... or if what he saw was the reality.

"Lady?" he called out, the first word he had spoken in many hours. He knew her figure well, try as she might to blend into the wall. Her hair caught the candlelight even at a distance. He considered, then remained where he stood, letting her choose what to do next.

It was hard to make him out in the sparse light and she wasn't familiar with his voice at all. She kept close to the wall, still petrified, until his features appeared familiar. "Avith," she exhaled, leaning forward with relief. Nothing to fear.

She hurried over to him, a half-smile on her face. It was difficult to deal with her cancellari. Her brother would always be her true family, the only family she loved with every inch of her. But her cancellari, they were her family, too. And she wanted to be good to them. "Did I startle you?"

Yes, it was her. A confused expression crossed his face and he took some small steps forward to meet her partway. "Everything. It's all right?" Yes, it was odd to hear him speak. Often there were others about. Often there was no need. He cast a glance behind her, behind himself, wondering at the absence of her brother. They shared her quarters, and his own work early in the morning would mean he would most certainly be asleep now.

He looked back down to her. The daytime was her strength. The sun gave her skin radiance and the countenance of calm and power. In the dim light of a candle she appeared as she was- a slim young woman barely out of girlhood, clad only in her dressing gown against the cooling night air. At her question, he almost seemed to hesitate. Had she? How could she? "A little. Your presence, this time of night. It is unexpected." His voice was quiet, normally drowned out, but it carried well in quiet places. There was nothing remarkable in it, and should she hear it again it would just be another voice in the crowd.

"Yes, of course. I couldn't sleep," she said, shrugging her slim shoulders. A lie, but if she confessed that she did this every night, she might be lectured and the last thing she wanted now was a lecture. She'd gone on the ledgers, she'd tried to say what she was meant to and still was ridiculed. The Hour had truly poisoned this city... But her smile never slid as she gazed up at Avith. "I'm worried about the people who attend the masque."

She had scared him. That, in a small way, made her happy. "I'm very sorry to have startled you." Her hair probably looked a mess, the Occia realized, and she began to try to smooth and untangle it with her fingers. Staring down at the stone floor, she let her mind wander. Then, her smile became genuine and she put a hand on Avith's forearm. "Avith? Do you think, because all the Others are certain to be at the ball, that we might go for a walk? Outside?"

She could count the times she had been outside at night on one hand. If she opened the windows, she could see the moon, but the draft disturbed Allen.

It seemed funny to think she would have trouble sleeping. Sometimes it seemed she was put on a pedestal so high that such basic things as sleep and food would seem unnecessary. The way the world was, he was surprised that it wasn't so, if people did actually beleive such things. "It is well. To be worried... whether it is appreciated. Or not." He had read some of the responses. He wondered how she felt about it, but knew any answer would be couched in expectation of what she should say.

He was prepared to take her back to her room, but the sudden touch of her small hand on his gauntleted arm stopped him. At her words, he blinked, not quite registering them at first. "Outside?" he repeated, as though she'd said something potentially crazy. He knew he should say no immediately, keep her from saying such a thing. To let her outside would be a gross misdemeanor on his part. It might also allow others to call into question her status as the unblemished bride.

But he also recalled his own words to Father William. How could she ever know how to lead these people if she never left this cold marble tower.

He glanced away, trying to come to a decision. "Why?" he asked suddenly. The word by itself still carried his worries.

The Occia nodded in response, quickly, with her chin tucked close to her chest. It made her look younger than she was, which her words did nothing to help. Sometimes, it felt like she'd not changed a bit since she was made the Occia. The thought frightened her. What would happen to her when Cita chose a new bride?

"Because it'll be safe now. And you'll be with me. And I'm never allowed outside," she said, green eyes pleading. Let me out of here, just for one night. She knew that she was kept in the citadel for her own protection; she wouldn't dare do anything to jeopardize her position. But, still, she was kept. "The weather is very nice. I reached my hand out the window," she paused to smile and hold her hand out, fingers wiggling, "And it's warmer outside than in here."

Avith, a pained expression on his face, was quiet for a little longer, contemplating. She did have a point, to a degree. Many of the Others would be at the ball, invited or not, but not all of them. There was no list of who or what would be in attendance, nor even a completed roster of Others at the Golden Hour. It would be an inexhaustible task.

But if something were to happen to her tonight, the Citadel would be one of the first places a person would look. One of the only places, really, unless there were something he didn't know about. He hated that his mind worked in that direction, but it was one of many reasons he had been approached for this job.

A sigh escaped him finally. "Go. Bind your hair. I will find a cloak to cover it."

His own doubts ate at him more fiercely than his convictions, the pleading look on her face. What did she know to pray for if she could not see it or touch it with her own hands? "I will wait by your door."

They were going outside? Really? Her face lit up, awkward as anything, and she hurried back to her rooms, hoping that Allen was particularly tired tonight.

As luck would have it, Allen was in the bath for some reason. She slept like the dead most nights and wondered how often he decided to wash in the middle of the night. It wasn't healthy... But, it meant that she could dress and pin her hair back without him hearing her. She tugged on her shoes, hopping on one foot and trying desperately to keep her balance. It was nice to be ungraceful when she was alone. Then, she sneaked out of the bedroom, closing the door behind her. If Allen asked where she had been, she'd simply say she was praying at one of the many naves in the citadel.

As he promised, Avith stood at her door. The Occia bowed her head to him. "I'm ready."

He could only hope he didn't regret it, he thought to himself as he waited a short distance from her door as seemed appropriate, the cloak he had taken from the Citadel's guard room tossed over his arm. What on earth was he doing? He heard himself sigh again. Well, she would be cautious, he hoped. Very few knew her face. Hiding her hair would keep most of the suspicion off, and the cloak would hardly be a concern- most out at this night would be wearing one.

He bowed in turn to her. She was well poised enough, but the childish joy that had transfused her face earlier lingered, the brightness still there. It made him feel at once both better and worse. He cast a glance at her door, expecting Allen to appear at any moment. That was another concern of his- he could not shake the feeling that her brother was too attached to her. It seemed unhealthy. And it did not help the rumours which already plagued the city. Unfortunately, there was no talking to the Occia about it. The mere mention of his name from another's lips resulted in a firm reprimand.

He held the cloak out for her to wrap herself in, then offering a hand, walked with her down the hallway to the stairs. Very little traffic came through this way. He considered their route out, and opened a door in the stairwell prematurely before they had reached the bottom, leading to a short walkway that would take them to another area of the Citadel, then down another set of stairs and to the bottom floor. They were closer to the sanctuary this way, but then also closer to the main doors that would lead them out, a much less suspicious exit than one of the side doors. He had left his Cancellari cloak behind as well, leaving him with the worn yet well maintained dark brown cloak that he wore underneath it.

"You will stay close," he said, though it was less of a command and more of a hope. "And keep the hood up, my Lady."

The Occia accepted the cloak and put it on, taking great care to tuck all of her hair away. When he offered his hand, she grabbed it and hurried down the steps, eager to leave the citadel. Where would they go? She had no idea what to make most of the city. She had been to the hold several times and once to a dressmaker's; the rest was foreign. She'd read about cities in books and she imagined most of Tyrol resembled either what she remembered of the Grounds or the view from her window, but it was exciting to be exploring. And at night!

"Of course," she said earnestly, "I won't do anything to get you into trouble. You're doing me a kindness." The Occia meant it. If asked, she would never say which cancellarius had taken her out, even if she was yelled at. Even if her brother asked, she'd keep this secret.

And with that, she stepped out of the citadel. The night was warm, pleasantly warm, and the moon looked a bit yellow. What did you call that, she wondered. "I hear there's a fountain in the center of the city. Can we go there?" She hoped there was a fountain. She didn't want to appear stupid in front of Avith.

He kept pace with her, concerned she might go too fast. It was a silly fear, in a sense, and he found his mouth twisting into a rueful smile. It was an odd reminder of his youngest sister, though it seemed natural, as they were the same age. When the door opened and she stepped outside, he slowly let her hand go, trusting she would not dart off without him. He took another glance behind them and also drew his hood. He was too well-known to be out so freely himself in such a situation.

"Not quite," he said. There was no hesitation in his voice, but his sentences were short, clipped off. "The Hold is center. But close. Just outside." Despite what it was he was doing, the calm night air made him feel more relaxed. It was dark, yes, but well lit now that the lamplighters had done their job. It was a short walk from where they were, moreso due to the lack of crowds that made up Tyrolian life in the daytime. It also meant some of the more interesting things would be closed to her, but she didn't seem particularly disappointed.

"It would seem the center, from here," he said suddenly. He wondered if she had any true sense of how things were set up within the walls. Most things were to the north- even the Golden Hour to the west of them was on the upper end of the city. "To go further south... it would not be wise."

She did run off, but not far. There was a tree just outside the citadel, one she watched robins fly in and out of each morning. The Occia went to it, touched the bark, and thought a moment about trying to climb it. But no, she was still with Avith. She would shame herself. At times, she wished that she and her brother were the only people in the city. It would make everything much simpler.

"No?" she called and liked the way her voice echoed. "We won't go further south, then." She put her back to the tree. It was hard and scratchy, but totally new. "We can still go to the fountain, can't we?"

He watched her run to the tree, he amused expression becoming more prevalent. Such a strange thing to take for granted, touching a tree. He followed her at a slower pace, always keeping a small distance. He looked up into the branches, then approached them, reaching up to tug at one, to test its sturdiness. He had climbed many trees as a child for pleasure, less when in the army for other reasons. "Yes," he said, almost surprised. "Of course." He looked back to the tree, to her leaning on it. "Careful of the sap," he added. He already had some on his fingers, but it wasn't unpleasant, just sticky. "Can you climb?" he asked suddenly, testing the branch again.

Sap. Yes. It was supposed to be very sticky, but she hadn't found any yet. The Occia stared up into the tree, the moonlight coming through its sparse leaves. It was beautiful, strangely so. It'd never occurred to her that she could see the moon though things.

Could she climb? She looked back at Avith, her expression puzzled. "I don't know. I did as a child, I think, but..." Before she could question her ability, she grinned and tried to scramble up the tree. Her slippers lost traction against the knotholes on the trunk several times, but she showed no fear. Avith would catch her. When she was finally in the tree, sitting on a high, sturdy bough, she waved to her bodyguard. "Come up!"

She'd climbed a tree. Already, it was a good night.

When she slipped he stepped forward quickly, making a step with his hands to help lift her up a little higher, reaching his hand out palm up wherever he could until she got to the first branch. She made quite a bit of progress from there. In all honesty, he was impressed; she'd been extraordinarily determined to get herself up there and she'd done quite a good job of it. It was a spark in her personality that did not seem to surface very often.

He did hesitate a moment, then grabbed the branch once more, put his foot to the trunk and began his own climb. He was much more agile than she, taking the briefest moments to test a branch here or there. He sat down easily, not at all afraid of the height at which they sat. He glanced upwards- the moon was getting fuller. One could mistake it for full now, but it would be another day or two before it reached its fullness.

"Pardon me," he said after a moment. "My saying so. This reminds me. Of my sister." He rubbed his hands together, the stickiness something he would have to wash off later. He would, in the fountain. It took a moment for him to get going again. "She would do such things. She might, still."

She was still timid enough to lie flat on the bough, clutching it as if it was liable to throw her off at any moment. But this was still fun!

"I am a man's sister," the Occia responded as she scooted out on to the end of the limb. She could see people from here, not that there was anyone important to see. "Allen would spoil me if he could."

She believed that, but paused before she asked, "As you would spoil your sister. What happened?"

He watched her, ducking his head somewhat to make sure she wasn't about to jump out of the tree or anything. He clasped his hands together, looking through the branches, pulling a leaf free and twisting it between his fingers before letting it float to the ground.

Admittedly, Avith didn't like to hear talk of Allen, but in such a context he couldn't even find the heart to be annoyed by it. It was hard enough to be parted from a loving family by a short distance as he was. To be so close and yet have to keep family at an arm's length... didn't it seem cruel?

"I came here," he said simply. There wasn't any big thing to it, and there was nothing in his voice that indicated he blamed her for his situation. "She is at home. Married. She and her husband... they visit. Sometimes. My nieces and nephews... I see them. Older each time." He rubbed at the back of his neck, glancing aside. To speak at length seemed to tire him, but he actually seemed content to answer her question. "Our lives parted. Nothing to be done."

He glanced about the tree again, then shifted onto his feet. "The fountain. Shall we go?"

She knew what they said of her brother. That he was going mad, she feared, was true. But it was simply his devotion running away with him. Soon, she would convince him to rest a while, to get his strength back, and all talk of his madness would dry up. As for the rest of it... it was untrue. The Occia was untouched; anyone who said otherwise was either a gossipmonger, a fool or both.

That was rather sad. But it was how things went, she was fast learning. Many children had been taken from their parents who weren't given such a holy position as she had. One day, she would lose Allen as well, or he would lose her. Then she would lose her title and the cancellari and all her family would be gone.

Her smile twitched as Avith got down and she made no move. Holding her arms out to him, her feet wiggled a bit as she kept her balance. "Yes. Help me down?"

Though he was not much noticed he went out in public often, knew the thoughts of the people. He hated to think Allen might comprimise her as Occia. And he hated to think he might one day have to protect her from him. With the way things were, Belief shaping their reality, he feared greatly for the future of the Citadel at large. He could only hope he was not the only one.

He had to stifle a laugh. She looked so pleased with herself, just like a child would have been. He felt a sharp twinge of guilt as he stepped up to the tree again, having figured he would have to do as much. "Go slow. If need be. I'll catch you." He held his hands out to her, to hold on to or fall in to as she saw fit. "If you are all right with that," he added a moment later. "The path. It is to the left. Should be quiet."

"Alright..." Carefully, with her bottom lip between her teeth, the Occia tried to scoot down the tree. Getting up had been much easier, but now that she had to climb down the tree felt as though it were three stories high. Once she was close enough, she grabbed onto Avith's hand and hopped down. "There. Thank you, Avith."

Fountain. That prospect delighted her as much as the tree-climbing had and she didn't need to hazard a fall this time. As they walked, she kept a lookout for any strange characters. The streets were largely deserted. It was as if Cita had cleared all the trouble from her path.

"Do you wish that you'd stayed at home with your sister rather than come to Tyrol?" It was a personal question, but she was too used to always being answered that she failed to notice.

He beckoned her down encouragingly, taking her hand firmly in his oen, gloved in leather, and pressed a hand to her back to balance her. Once settled, he gestured down the cobbled road that they had bypassed in favour of the tree and began walking.

He was not entirely surprised at the lack of bodies. Most people retreated indoors this time of night, whether their homes or the taverns. He pointed out various landmarks to her that she might knkw only from above- The Coil to their left, the baker's cart further on, opened early and closed the same so the man could sleep early and rise late in order to bake again before the dawn came again. A cat darted out from the bushes to his right and he hesitated, then continued along.

The fountain ran even at night. It amplified the sounds of the city in the daytime, but it was quite soothing at night.

He considered the question, then shook his head. "I will return. Someday. My duty now is here." Sometimes there was a drunk snoozing at the edge of the fountain, lovers unaware of the world- for now, it was deserted. "My family. They live together. For generations." He smiled openly. "They wait."

Despite her vigilance, the Occia felt perfectly safe with Avith. She didn't know much of her cancellari, or at least didn't know nearly as much as they knew of her, but she had heard the rumors. Avith had been a fearsome soldier. He'd killed many men. Some even said that he came to the citadel to try to atone for his sins. It was a rather dramatic story, but one that his silence did nothing to dispel. No, if anyone, man or Other, tried to attack them, Avith would not lose the fight.

The fountain was in no way disappointing. It wasn't very grand, but the running water amazed her. Soon, she was sitting on the lip of the fountain, squinting at the figures in the center. A group of young boys, cherubs perhaps, holding hollow horns which produced water, dancing around a woman with a babe in her arms. What did it mean, she wondered but was too shy to ask.

His answer surprised the Occia. "You mean, they'll welcome you home?" Would her parents welcome her home after she left the citadel?

Avith didn't like rumours, though he made it his business to know them. He was not a violent man, but did not hesitate to use it where neceszsary. Unfortunately it had been under his watch as Cancellarius, not often, but enough to make him uncomfortable. Such things should be for war, anonymous, never personal. Even if he had been subjected to such treatments himself.

Unconsciously, he reached up, pulled at his damaged ear, then rested his hands again at his sides, hidden beneath his cloak.

"Yes," he said, glancing at her, at the surprise in her voice. "All are soldiers." He hesitated a moment, as though deciding on something. "My grandparents, parents. Brothers, sisters, nieces, nephews. They'll leave, for awhile, but. They always return. Me too." He paused, coughed. "Tradition."

He sat down on the edge of the fountain, resting his elbows on his legs, clasping his hands in front of him. "Water's cold," he warned.

"Tradition," she said it as if the word was almost too heavy to lift with her tongue. Her family had no traditions. They had no lineage to trace. They were common people who were too tired and miserable to care if their family was populated by ill-begotten children. From what she'd seen of nobles, the Occia did not hold them in much higher high regard, but a part of her wished for their security. "Does your family have many other traditions?" Her voice was light and almost playful as she asked, a sure sign that she was being disingenuous.

With a slap, she splashed the nearest cherub's face with a small wave, then let out a high-pitched giggle when the water from its horn splashed against her dress. "It is cold," she laughed.

"Not all tradition is bad," he said slowly, allowing for a more fluid articulation of his words. Did she think her position bad? He watched her playing with the water, honestly having to wonder. Cita forgive him, he could not see her as the holy, untouchable being she was supposed to be. She was a child in an increasingly adult body who would make major decisions without any input except that put forth by her advisors. And, he considered a few of them, that was troubling enough.

A close-lipped smile followed as he watched her play in the water, taking another glance about. Other traditions? "Summer feast," he said, though it was funny to put it that way. Granted how many people lived in the house, every day was a feast, every day was a party. No one cared that Avith spoke so little, since everyone else had so much more to say. "Contests between us. The men. My aunt, also. Archery. Sword sparring." He glanced up, having just noticed he was looking at his hands. He leaned over, picked up a small stone and rolled it between his fingers before discarding it, looking for another. "Celebrations at births. Visits to the citadel for blessings." Yes, that was the last time he'd seen Eluned. A year ago at his newest niece's blessing ceremony. It seemed very far away now. "Remembrance of ancestors." It'd been a long time since he'd taken part in that, too. At least since his first year at the Citadel.

He found a smooth stone and glanced at the large fountain. He weighed the stone in his hand, drew back, then flung it across the water. It skipped three times before sinking. "Do you?" he asked suddenly. "With Brother Allen?"

"No, of course not," she corrected, shaking her head. She was speaking too freely. Being out of the citadel probably had something to do with it. "I did not mean all traditions... Or your traditions. I-" But there was nothing she could say to follow that and so continued to play with the water, ignoring the biting cold in her fingers.

It was strange to think of Avith as part of another family, and a large one at that. Was he different around them, the Occia wondered. More than likely he was. "They sound lovely." Much better than balls and parades, though she was obligated to take part in the latter.

She looked up, a confused look in her eyes. Then, slowly, she shook her head. "Nothing but the traditions Cita has handed down to us. He-" 'is very devout.' It shamed her sometimes that he was so much better than she was, that he did so much more good and yet she received all the praise. Looking down into the pool, the water cloudy and black in the night, the Occia nodded. "I'm ready to return." With a bright smile, she added, "Thank you for this, Avith."

Avith almost regretted asking the question, but felt that he couldn't quite bring himself to. Of course, he felt bad that her life was devoid of such things. He also knew it was wrong of him to think of her so plainly, though a part of him did not think it was a bad thing at all. It was, ultimately, a dangerous, circuitous thought process, and he would have to keep it to himself. "I took no offense," he reassured her quietly. He stood up again, walking by her, making sure the hood was still up and covering her hair. It was quiet, except for distant shouts and a minstrel or two leaking sound out the broken door of the Coil.

He watched her cut herself off, understanding what she meant. To have traditions based in the Citadel was not a bad thing, but to have no occasions between siblings worthy of celebration seemed... hollow to him, somehow. And all the more sad if Allen did not notice.

But he did not press the matter. He nodded, holding his hand out to her again. "I could not refuse," he murmured, looking down as he realized it was so. "My words to Brother William..." Briefly he looked annoyed with himself. "Some experience... it is better than none."

From any other man, the silence might have given her reason to pause. But Avith was generally quiet and so the Occia did not consider what his silence meant now. Taking his hand, she looked up at the white walls and spires of the citadel, which were visible from almost every street corner in the city. It was an honor to be the mistress of such a house; she shouldn't seek to escape it. But still, tonight would always be precious to her.

"I'm glad you've shared your opinion." She kept her smile in place. Her lofty position was meant to shield her from experience, to keep her pure, to follow Cita's voice and not the howling voice of the city. But perhaps Avith had a point. "The Citadel now has an Occia who can climb trees."

They continued to walk the deserted streets until safely home, the barking of stray dogs and masked citizens alike ringing in the distance.