In Memoriam.
It was always Trista and Maisen.
We played numerous combinations of characters together. More than I can count, and so many of them whose names I barely remember. But it was always those two we went back to. They were star-crossed and never going to be together -- but because of that they loved each other in a way that most Vampires never would. Pure, true, and with absolute loyalty.
Pure. True. With Absolute Loyalty. Those were always the best words to describe Tanya. We first met at 2am in the Chathouse. I was heart-broken from the loss of my first love, and pouring myself into game as a way to run from that pain that a young kid doesn't know how to deal with. I look back at that pain now and laugh, but past me didn't even know how to function.
And there she was. She knew, immediately. Others bought my excuses or outright lies about how I was or what I was doing. Tanya, though, saw right through it. She convinced me to open up. To be hurt with someone.
I had just met possibly the most amazing person of my life.
It never mattered the issue, or the time, she was there. 3am? She would stay awake for me. A house full of husband and kids? She would somehow find the time to be an amazing mom and still be there for me. I always felt like a priority to her. Like I mattered.
I did my best to return the kindness and purity. I always felt like I fell short, but if I did, she never once let it show. Always there. I would listen to her rant about friend drama or sometimes even be a shoulder to cry on when she had rough patches with her family.
I remember when she invited me in to her home. It was September Crown in 2005. A decade ago now. Far too long ago.
Meeting her, her amazing husband Chris, and her three wonderful children was a blessing I look back and smile upon. A Border and my poverty kept me further away than I wanted, but I always kept in communication.
It was in person, more than online, where I got to see how truly strong a person she was. Lady Affrika the Strong may have been her SCA name, but goddamnit was it fitting for her. Never taking shit, and always there to dish out justice against those that harmed her loved ones.
She would always try and convince me to move to the states. I always would give reasons not to. I always worried she thought I was just trying to make excuses not to see her, because I know how truly delicate she was under the surface. She deserved so much good, yet she never believed that she was ever truly worth it.
I always tried to find some way to show her how amazing she was. I never felt like I succeeded. My stoicism kept me from communicating to her a whole lot of things. Too many things went unsaid in the end. Hopefully now, wherever she is, she knows the truth of my feelings for her, and maybe believes how worth it she truly was.
I got to see her and the rest of the Taylor clan once more, in 2006 for 40-Year. I had determined that the SCA wasn't really my thing. I had made a mistake when I was there and hurt her. I did everything I could to make it right, and that moment is probably my greatest regret with her.
But she was never gone. We never stopped talking. We never stopped caring. It was an up-and-down blowout moment. One a lot like the kind that Maisen & Trista shared from time to time. Oh the fights those two would have! I think Trista ate like five people once out of anger at Maisen.
Without her I wouldn't have stuck around the Vampire Court. Without her I wouldn't have met Desi, the love of my life and soon-to-be mother of my child. Without her I wouldn't believe that I am a half-decent writer.
She sent me a computer once, when mine had died. The customs people broke the damn thing and I half-expected her to start beating people up on the border. She'd send me cherry coke (the US version is better) and even Boo Berry Cereal on Halloween. I never asked for any of it. I was never allowed to refuse it, either. It was just one of the many ways she showed how much she loved me.
When I was in 40-year, it was her and Chris that got me into Bushmills Whiskey. I still scoff at the idea of drinking anything else, and probably always will. I still have the very first bottle of it that I bought after returning home. It stands on my shelf, long-since empty. I think of her and her family every time I see it.
I don't have any of the logs of Trista and Maisen. They all got lost to hard drive deaths and crashes. I have some text files of our RP in our short-lived soiree in Port Lussuria, though. It was the last time we were ever to game together.
And it was magic, man. The subtlety, the devious knack with which we both picked up those subtleties. The characters always tried to one-up eachother. We were one of the few that challenged ourselves to out-think -- yet, at the same time, it wasn't about winning. It was just about the game. The reward of writing something together was greater than that.
We were going to see each other again soon. We'd been making plans. It had been nine years. Nine years too long. I have watched her kids grow into amazing people on facebook, and I was excited to get the chance to see the family again. They were my little clan, and still are, even if I am stuck far away in space and lifestyle.
She was one of the greats. More than ever, I am steeled to continue my writing. Few, if any, have believed in me the way she did, and I will never forget her.
I love you, Tanya. I always have, and always will. I know I don't need to ask you to save me a seat. You're working on that right now.
One day I will finish my Vancouver by Night book, where Trista and Maisen will continue their little dance. It will be for you.
Because it was always Trista and Maisen.
It was raining in Meridian. All the stars obscured by clouds too far above the ground to reflect the lights of the city. Maisen perched atop the roof of the Court, looking out to the tower that held Trista's haven. The lights had just gone out for the last time. She was gone. All her fury and anger and beauty and honesty and love was gone. His muse and sister would no longer be there.
What was left of his soul fell silent as he watched in the rain. He had burnt half the city down once to save her from an abductor, but this was his failure. His ebony locks, thickened by the rain, beat against his face in the wind. The forceful smacks mirroring what had been done to his heart. Only God knew exactly how long Maisen perched there before he finally moved.
He reached slowly to unclasp his only piece of Jewellery - his St. Christopher's Medal. Trista had mocked him when she'd first seen it, all those years ago. "You don't need a saint, Maisen. You make your own fate."she had said. Maybe she had been right this whole time.
Removing it, he dangled it off the roof, it swaying and shimmering in the night rain. Obscured by his hair, a single rivulet of crimson sneaked its way down his cheek. His voice like choir bells echoed through the night.
"True love will find you in the end
You'll find out just whose your friend
Don't be sad, I know you will
Don't give up until
True love will find you in the end."
The medal flew in to the wind. Maisen just stood there in the rain.