31_days drabbles: 2 originals, 1 KH2
1.
sea gray
The drab blue green rolled from one end to the other of her line of vision. The vibrant rays of the morning sun, usually quite fierce around this time of day, was absent, not there to dance among the waves, nor there to illuminate the sea into the shimmering spread of luxurious fabric she often likened it to (or rather, she likened the fabric to the sea. That was her first memory of wearing the expensive clothing that was standard issue at Kan Tara. The dress was like the expanse of the ocean). The skies, however, weren’t so dark as to render the unsettled ocean a sulky gray, at least, not enough to match the shadows on her own sea-deep eyes, usually sparkly blue, mischievous as dolphins. Her eyes were her only features that weren’t prim or proper, that weren’t so boring.
Well, they can accuse her of fastidiousness. They can accuse her of pride, even cowardice. She didn’t care. If it was duty she left behind, it was to an even more elemental duty she responded when she decided to leave. She was not needed by the court of Kentrona, never was, and her continued presence only disturbed the finely tuned balance of the magically precarious realm of power. Audric Drynwyn was perfectly capable of letting her go. He already had, hadn’t he?
The journey for home-her real, real, real home-was exhilarating. She couldn’t help but soar with the fickle winds’ caresses. Her excitement was hard to contain; she had not seen the islands for years, not since the day strange people from the shining citadel across the water, Kentrona, she later learned its name, took a young girl aside and revealed to her-mistakenly, she knew now- her destiny, the Halcyon’s mandate.
But Andromache was not a good liar, even to herself, and the former alandeja had never made a habit of it. Her sadness was as profound as her thoughts. The sea, unbounded and vast, gave her comfort, and she remained as serene as the day, as neutral as the weather, as desolate as the sea eagle that circled once overhead, then glided away to the land she was leaving behind.
~1215 060806
/ June 9: in the sea
Original - pre-Halcyon's Mandate / Andromache / G / Word Count: 363
2.
because neither knew when to yield
The severely clothed Lord Savara, though not quite as stern-looking as the king he served, was withdrawn in contemplation. The habitual half-smirk he usually wore, the less amiable version of Adrian’s mischievous expression, was absent. Sandy hair uncombed and brown eyes murky, he seemed much older than his twenty-five years. Then again, one could say without contest that he had seen far more than a person thrice his age should.
Sean had returned from the outskirts of Kentrona, from the oblivious Lethe, to receive somber news. For the rest of the kingdom, it was joyous, but he couldn’t find it in his heart to exert anything beyond a crack of a smile.
His best friend was sympathetic, pretended he wasn’t. Adrian was sappy like that, but Sean was grateful the prince didn’t try to give him a pep talk, content with a pregnant glance from his icy, girly-hued eyes. The princess Iantha, however, smiled at him rather wistfully, and there was something about her eloquent expression that made his knees and tear ducts weak. He was too proud to succumb to either fainting or weeping, so he settled for grimacing back and, when she disappeared from sight, punching an innocent pillar. He had nothing against the alluring woman who treated him like one of her brothers, of course, but he hated the vulnerable feeling she so easily elicited with her warm compassion. The queen, meanwhile, stared at him with undisguised unhappiness. Andromache was too kind to voice out her disapproval-quite frankly, Sean wasn’t even sure what displeased her so, but her ladies-in-waiting acted as if he did whatever it was he did as personal insult to her Majesty. She recognized at once where he was headed, however, and she inclined her head once, as if in benediction.
Throughout the hallway he was in echoed the giggling voice of the crown prince. The five-year old had been practicing a lot with his aunt nowadays, mastering little exercises to control his fledgling powers. Ebony had an unusual affinity with the child. Both had been born under extraordinary circumstances and both turned out much more vulnerable than expected.
The door opened to wide blue eyes.
“It’s Uncle Sean,” the boy said gravely. “He was hiding his presence good, until I opened the door. I guess, I blew his cover by accident, huh?”
“He could have hidden in a better place than that,” answered Ebony dryly. “Don’t worry about it. Even I get confused with his reasoning. Or the lack of it.”
“I have no reason to hide from you, Highness,” came Sean’s automatic response. “Maybe I wasn’t hiding.”
“But you were, weren’t you?” persisted Aji.
“Maybe,” Sean repeated slyly.
“Did I pass the test?” the little prince inquired eagerly.
“Not really, Ajo, dear,” answered his aunt. “It wasn’t intuition but merely coincidence. You opened the door; a rat was scuttling by.”
“Nuh-uh,” Aji’s eyes grew even rounder, if possible. “I felt him from a while back. I think he was trying to hide from you.”
“Trying being the key word,” Ebony conceded. “But I think you’ll need better practice than the Lord Savara, if you want to be half as good as me.”
“But not today,” came a stern voice.
“Papa!”
The boy sprinted for his father and was swept up the latter’s arms.
“I didn’t feel you coming.” Ajo was a tad petulant.
Bristling with irritation, Ebony turned to her brother. “Don’t pop out like that, Audie,” she complained. “Aji and I were having fun, and you’re spoiling it.”
“I’ve come to rescue my child, sister,” Audric said wryly. “I wouldn’t want him to witness something. . . inappropriate. It would be fun, yes, but I think he’s a little too young to arbiter random altercations.”
Ebony scowled. “Your son is smart enough to catch that cheap shot.”
“Thus the delicacy I had imbibed the said cheap shot.” Audric shrugged, then became serious. “Please, resolve this, you two,” he ordered quietly. “I will not have the whole city in an uproar just because both of you refuse to talk like rational adults.”
“We can’t all be rational adults.”
“Then, my Lord Savara, to you I entrust this chore.”
Sean bowed obediently.
“Ebony.”
She sighed. “Yes, Majesty.”
With that, Audric relinquished his son and led him out of the room. The door shut behind them.
“Make this quick, Savara,” Ebony said briskly, distantly.
“I’ve heard of the betrothal,” he said. There would be no preambles, no malicious repartee; he was going straight to the point.
“So what?”
“I object.”
“Too early,” she muttered. “You do that kind of thing in front of the altar. And even so, you wouldn’t dare such an impertinence. I won’t let it pass, if you humiliate me like that.”
“That’s why I’m telling you now, instead of then.”
“You wouldn’t dare.”
Sean said nothing.
“You would not dare,” she repeated imperiously.
“But you don’t really know that, do you?” He sneered at her. “Her Highness had never been able to trust just my word.”
“What do you want, Savara?” Ebony matched his cold stare.
“This is a political marriage.”
“It’s not unheard of. What of it?”
“I can’t allow it to happen.”
“Can’t?”
“You remember a certain bet I lost, what, ten years ago? I’m painfully obliged to look after your interests, princess, and this marriage will not be of your best interest.”
“My interests are not-have never been-your business, Lord Savara.”
“It has been, my Lady, since the day I formally lost to you and became your bondsman.”
Ebony actually laughed. “Still bitter over that little contest when we were kids? Are you an idiot, Sean?”
“I’ve thought so often enough,” he said, his face still severe and unsmiling. “Apparently, you’re right, little Ebony. I am an idiot. I’ve uttered that spell without thinking of the consequences, and now, we have a problem here. I will have you know, princess, that I will not succumb. I will do my duties.”
The young woman’s pale face became stone-like. “Very well,” she said coldly. “There’s an easy solution to that: I’m releasing you from your bondage. There. Happy?”
“Powerful as you are,” Sean said almost sadly. “That’s beyond your scope.” He raised his right arm and rolled back his sleeve. On his forearm was the long, silvery scar from the blood oath he had so carelessly sworn as a thirteen year old. Not even Princess Iantha could clear his marred skin, in the aftermath, after the scolding they got for meddling with ancient magic they didn’t understand. Many other powerful healers have tried and failed as time passed and his travels increased in distance and duration. “What started that fateful day, even you cannot erase.”
“Of course!” Ebony said suddenly, startled by a flash of clarity. “Because you have to allow it. You have to allow the relinquishment for the enchantment to dissipate. It’s that simple!”
But Sean Savara would not confirm nor deny her words.
The princess caught on quickly. “You’ve known that; they’d have told you.” Her eyes narrowed, flashed with half-hidden resentment. “All along you could’ve broken that stupid bondage spell, but again and again, you’ve chosen to bitch about it instead. I do not understand you, Sean Savara. I never would.”
She shook her head, then fell silent, only speaking up moments later. “Anyway,” she resumed distantly. “It’s too late, after all.”
Ebony Drynwyn ended the confrontation there and then. Sean Savara could have stopped it, perhaps. It was his move. But he didn’t, and regardless of his reason, that was all that mattered.
~1937 082206
/ June 10: love until it hurts
Original - post Halcyon's Mandate, post Angel of Death / Ebony, Sean / PG/ Word Count: 1257
3.
pipe dream
12:05 061706
To what purpose is sleep, who knows? Is it merely for rest, or is it for something more profound, more intangible, more mystic? Nowhen is the question more pertinent than when he (she, it, they) is lapping at the fringes of wakefulness, on the verge of breaking through the gelatinous dream-stuff that comprises Morpheus’ embalming bath.
Not that the words ever coalesce into a coherent inquiry-there are no words in that state of being (state of being? what is being?)-but every fragment of him (her, it, them) effuse wonder.
Then the birthing.
Everything swirls down the drain-
What drain?
-and then to nothingness.
And then to sunlight.
His name is Roxas. It is the last day of summer.
~12:25
/ June 17: a waking dream
Kingdom Hearts 2 / Roxas / G / Word Count: 119
--------------
I have a soft spot for Roxas.
The Ebony piece irritates me. It seems so cliche.
Heck, my writing irritates me now. There's a certain sameness in each piece I cough out. It's boring.
sea gray
The drab blue green rolled from one end to the other of her line of vision. The vibrant rays of the morning sun, usually quite fierce around this time of day, was absent, not there to dance among the waves, nor there to illuminate the sea into the shimmering spread of luxurious fabric she often likened it to (or rather, she likened the fabric to the sea. That was her first memory of wearing the expensive clothing that was standard issue at Kan Tara. The dress was like the expanse of the ocean). The skies, however, weren’t so dark as to render the unsettled ocean a sulky gray, at least, not enough to match the shadows on her own sea-deep eyes, usually sparkly blue, mischievous as dolphins. Her eyes were her only features that weren’t prim or proper, that weren’t so boring.
Well, they can accuse her of fastidiousness. They can accuse her of pride, even cowardice. She didn’t care. If it was duty she left behind, it was to an even more elemental duty she responded when she decided to leave. She was not needed by the court of Kentrona, never was, and her continued presence only disturbed the finely tuned balance of the magically precarious realm of power. Audric Drynwyn was perfectly capable of letting her go. He already had, hadn’t he?
The journey for home-her real, real, real home-was exhilarating. She couldn’t help but soar with the fickle winds’ caresses. Her excitement was hard to contain; she had not seen the islands for years, not since the day strange people from the shining citadel across the water, Kentrona, she later learned its name, took a young girl aside and revealed to her-mistakenly, she knew now- her destiny, the Halcyon’s mandate.
But Andromache was not a good liar, even to herself, and the former alandeja had never made a habit of it. Her sadness was as profound as her thoughts. The sea, unbounded and vast, gave her comfort, and she remained as serene as the day, as neutral as the weather, as desolate as the sea eagle that circled once overhead, then glided away to the land she was leaving behind.
~1215 060806
/ June 9: in the sea
Original - pre-Halcyon's Mandate / Andromache / G / Word Count: 363
2.
because neither knew when to yield
The severely clothed Lord Savara, though not quite as stern-looking as the king he served, was withdrawn in contemplation. The habitual half-smirk he usually wore, the less amiable version of Adrian’s mischievous expression, was absent. Sandy hair uncombed and brown eyes murky, he seemed much older than his twenty-five years. Then again, one could say without contest that he had seen far more than a person thrice his age should.
Sean had returned from the outskirts of Kentrona, from the oblivious Lethe, to receive somber news. For the rest of the kingdom, it was joyous, but he couldn’t find it in his heart to exert anything beyond a crack of a smile.
His best friend was sympathetic, pretended he wasn’t. Adrian was sappy like that, but Sean was grateful the prince didn’t try to give him a pep talk, content with a pregnant glance from his icy, girly-hued eyes. The princess Iantha, however, smiled at him rather wistfully, and there was something about her eloquent expression that made his knees and tear ducts weak. He was too proud to succumb to either fainting or weeping, so he settled for grimacing back and, when she disappeared from sight, punching an innocent pillar. He had nothing against the alluring woman who treated him like one of her brothers, of course, but he hated the vulnerable feeling she so easily elicited with her warm compassion. The queen, meanwhile, stared at him with undisguised unhappiness. Andromache was too kind to voice out her disapproval-quite frankly, Sean wasn’t even sure what displeased her so, but her ladies-in-waiting acted as if he did whatever it was he did as personal insult to her Majesty. She recognized at once where he was headed, however, and she inclined her head once, as if in benediction.
Throughout the hallway he was in echoed the giggling voice of the crown prince. The five-year old had been practicing a lot with his aunt nowadays, mastering little exercises to control his fledgling powers. Ebony had an unusual affinity with the child. Both had been born under extraordinary circumstances and both turned out much more vulnerable than expected.
The door opened to wide blue eyes.
“It’s Uncle Sean,” the boy said gravely. “He was hiding his presence good, until I opened the door. I guess, I blew his cover by accident, huh?”
“He could have hidden in a better place than that,” answered Ebony dryly. “Don’t worry about it. Even I get confused with his reasoning. Or the lack of it.”
“I have no reason to hide from you, Highness,” came Sean’s automatic response. “Maybe I wasn’t hiding.”
“But you were, weren’t you?” persisted Aji.
“Maybe,” Sean repeated slyly.
“Did I pass the test?” the little prince inquired eagerly.
“Not really, Ajo, dear,” answered his aunt. “It wasn’t intuition but merely coincidence. You opened the door; a rat was scuttling by.”
“Nuh-uh,” Aji’s eyes grew even rounder, if possible. “I felt him from a while back. I think he was trying to hide from you.”
“Trying being the key word,” Ebony conceded. “But I think you’ll need better practice than the Lord Savara, if you want to be half as good as me.”
“But not today,” came a stern voice.
“Papa!”
The boy sprinted for his father and was swept up the latter’s arms.
“I didn’t feel you coming.” Ajo was a tad petulant.
Bristling with irritation, Ebony turned to her brother. “Don’t pop out like that, Audie,” she complained. “Aji and I were having fun, and you’re spoiling it.”
“I’ve come to rescue my child, sister,” Audric said wryly. “I wouldn’t want him to witness something. . . inappropriate. It would be fun, yes, but I think he’s a little too young to arbiter random altercations.”
Ebony scowled. “Your son is smart enough to catch that cheap shot.”
“Thus the delicacy I had imbibed the said cheap shot.” Audric shrugged, then became serious. “Please, resolve this, you two,” he ordered quietly. “I will not have the whole city in an uproar just because both of you refuse to talk like rational adults.”
“We can’t all be rational adults.”
“Then, my Lord Savara, to you I entrust this chore.”
Sean bowed obediently.
“Ebony.”
She sighed. “Yes, Majesty.”
With that, Audric relinquished his son and led him out of the room. The door shut behind them.
“Make this quick, Savara,” Ebony said briskly, distantly.
“I’ve heard of the betrothal,” he said. There would be no preambles, no malicious repartee; he was going straight to the point.
“So what?”
“I object.”
“Too early,” she muttered. “You do that kind of thing in front of the altar. And even so, you wouldn’t dare such an impertinence. I won’t let it pass, if you humiliate me like that.”
“That’s why I’m telling you now, instead of then.”
“You wouldn’t dare.”
Sean said nothing.
“You would not dare,” she repeated imperiously.
“But you don’t really know that, do you?” He sneered at her. “Her Highness had never been able to trust just my word.”
“What do you want, Savara?” Ebony matched his cold stare.
“This is a political marriage.”
“It’s not unheard of. What of it?”
“I can’t allow it to happen.”
“Can’t?”
“You remember a certain bet I lost, what, ten years ago? I’m painfully obliged to look after your interests, princess, and this marriage will not be of your best interest.”
“My interests are not-have never been-your business, Lord Savara.”
“It has been, my Lady, since the day I formally lost to you and became your bondsman.”
Ebony actually laughed. “Still bitter over that little contest when we were kids? Are you an idiot, Sean?”
“I’ve thought so often enough,” he said, his face still severe and unsmiling. “Apparently, you’re right, little Ebony. I am an idiot. I’ve uttered that spell without thinking of the consequences, and now, we have a problem here. I will have you know, princess, that I will not succumb. I will do my duties.”
The young woman’s pale face became stone-like. “Very well,” she said coldly. “There’s an easy solution to that: I’m releasing you from your bondage. There. Happy?”
“Powerful as you are,” Sean said almost sadly. “That’s beyond your scope.” He raised his right arm and rolled back his sleeve. On his forearm was the long, silvery scar from the blood oath he had so carelessly sworn as a thirteen year old. Not even Princess Iantha could clear his marred skin, in the aftermath, after the scolding they got for meddling with ancient magic they didn’t understand. Many other powerful healers have tried and failed as time passed and his travels increased in distance and duration. “What started that fateful day, even you cannot erase.”
“Of course!” Ebony said suddenly, startled by a flash of clarity. “Because you have to allow it. You have to allow the relinquishment for the enchantment to dissipate. It’s that simple!”
But Sean Savara would not confirm nor deny her words.
The princess caught on quickly. “You’ve known that; they’d have told you.” Her eyes narrowed, flashed with half-hidden resentment. “All along you could’ve broken that stupid bondage spell, but again and again, you’ve chosen to bitch about it instead. I do not understand you, Sean Savara. I never would.”
She shook her head, then fell silent, only speaking up moments later. “Anyway,” she resumed distantly. “It’s too late, after all.”
Ebony Drynwyn ended the confrontation there and then. Sean Savara could have stopped it, perhaps. It was his move. But he didn’t, and regardless of his reason, that was all that mattered.
~1937 082206
/ June 10: love until it hurts
Original - post Halcyon's Mandate, post Angel of Death / Ebony, Sean / PG/ Word Count: 1257
3.
pipe dream
12:05 061706
To what purpose is sleep, who knows? Is it merely for rest, or is it for something more profound, more intangible, more mystic? Nowhen is the question more pertinent than when he (she, it, they) is lapping at the fringes of wakefulness, on the verge of breaking through the gelatinous dream-stuff that comprises Morpheus’ embalming bath.
Not that the words ever coalesce into a coherent inquiry-there are no words in that state of being (state of being? what is being?)-but every fragment of him (her, it, them) effuse wonder.
Then the birthing.
Everything swirls down the drain-
What drain?
-and then to nothingness.
And then to sunlight.
His name is Roxas. It is the last day of summer.
~12:25
/ June 17: a waking dream
Kingdom Hearts 2 / Roxas / G / Word Count: 119
--------------
I have a soft spot for Roxas.
The Ebony piece irritates me. It seems so cliche.
Heck, my writing irritates me now. There's a certain sameness in each piece I cough out. It's boring.