[OOM: Bernardholt] Conversations with Dead People: Fever Dreams
The world was very hot, and very cold. He couldn‘t stop shivering, and couldn‘t find the sun--but his skin felt like it was on fire. He wanted to throw up. “Tavi? Tavi, you need to drink this.” It sounded like Aunt Isana’s voice, Tavi thought hazily. He felt something--a cup?--pressing against his lips, but he only really got down a sip before the taste and his hacking cough made her spill most of the contents, and he batted ineffectually at it in protest.
Even through the sick feeling in his stomach and the fog in his head, Tavi could feel the rumble of his uncle‘s voice. “’Sana? How can I--”
“Get me more of this,” she said tiredly. Tavi thought he heard a low sound of distress, along with Uncle Bernard‘s rapidly vanishing footsteps.
He weakly waved a hand. “Fade? Fade… ‘sokay, Fade. I’ll… I’ll be fine. I--” He broke off into another hacking cough.
He couldn’t think past trying to breathe, although he thought he heard Aunt Isana ask Fade to get her tub. He tried hard to tell her that he didn’t need it, he only needed to sleep, but he didn’t remember actually doing so. Suddenly he felt a cool hand on his forehead and he bit back the instinctive scream with effort, although he couldn’t stop his faint whimper. But it was safe--it was only Aunt Isana, she was there, she’d take care of him. She always took care of him.
“Shhh, my child, you’ll be all right…” He shivered again and tried to cover her hand with his. “I told you not to stay out in the rain with that cold.“
“The lamb,“ he managed weakly through the cough, “it was… had to… it’s…?“
“It’s fine, Tavi. Better than you.“
There was a loud-ish sound, and then, “My lady?” A voice he didn’t quite recognize--who?
“I’m not your-- …You shouldn’t…”
“It’s faster than acting, and he needs it. Your tub--”
“Help me, Rari.”
The water was so cold, so very cold, and this time he couldn’t help screaming a little. But then he felt Rill starting to work, and sometime between whimpers he stopped really feeling the cold and the sweat and the fire, and everything was very, very still.
He’d never seen a place like this, he thought uncertainly. White marble halls, stretching out and branching into other halls, rooms, stairs--furies only knew what else. He turned around, wrapping his arms around himself as he realized he had no idea where on Carna he might be.
So he began to walk. He wouldn’t get much done staying put, right?
He wandered through the rooms and corridors, seeing no signs of life as he did. No furniture, no color, just blank marble walls, floor, ceiling. He didn’t know why--surely someone had to live here, as beautiful a building as it was. Eventually, from a window in another large, empty room--in the corner of his eye he thought he saw paneled wood, shelves, books, but every time he turned his head the walls were blank--he saw a garden. Green, with trees and grass and it sounded like running water, too. It only took a split second decision to go all but running from the room, tracing both back over previous routes and through new territory, trying to find that garden.
He knew, in the dim awareness of reality in the back of his mind, that he shouldn’t be running. He was too sick. He shivered as a sudden flash of cold washed over him--Rill, Rill was taking care of him--but then it was gone.
His efforts were only partially successful--he found a window on ground level looking out into the garden, but no door. Still, after barely a moment’s hesitation he had opened and climbed through the window, to begin wandering the garden.
He’d never seen anything like it, the bright flowers and sculpted green life. It was like a kind of wonderland, too--the green bright, cheerful, playing, not the wild and thorny, welcoming but dangerous beneath the apparent vibrancy. This one seemed clear, safe--more boring than the wilderness of Calderon, certainly, but that was okay, until he knew where he was. The sound of water caught his attention again, and he slowly meandered towards it. Water--Aunt Isana, she was worried about him. Something about a lamb, maybe. One of Lily’s. As the sound of water got louder, he grew a little more confident in his movements, less quiet and careful--and stopped abruptly, cracking a twig underfoot as he hid from the figure he saw standing there.
The man was tall, his hair Legion-short, and from what Tavi could see his features were strong, probably attractive by girl standards. He was dressed like a legionare too, with the gladius at his side, and red cloak, although he wasn’t wearing armor. He was staring pensively at the fountain, but turned his head when Tavi tried to hide. “Who’s there?”
Tavi peered hesitantly around the bush, though not responding per se. He lowered his eyes from the intense scrutiny, but was startled enough by the warm laugh to look up again.
“It’s fine, lad,” the man said gently. “Come here. You look a little lost.” Tavi obediently began making his way over as the man crouched down to his level, a warm and welcoming smile on his face. “What’s your name? ….You can look at me, you know,” he added with amusement lacing his tone.
Tavi looked up into a pair of vibrant, grass-green eyes, which set him almost instantly at his ease. “T-tavi, sir,” he stammered. “Tavi of Bernardholt. In Calderon Valley.”
Something like a shadow flashed in the man’s eyes at the mention of the place. “Calderon,” he murmured. Then, after a moment, “So it was still settled, after? Or--”
Tavi shook his head emphatically. “About a year after the Battle of Calderon, I think, is when Uncle Bernard started the holt. His family’s died. I didn’t get to see them.”
There was a pause, as yet more pain flashed in his eyes. “I’m sorry. It’s… never pleasant, not getting to see your family again, or never knowing them.” He paused. “You live with your uncle, then?”
“Uncle Bernard,” Tavi confirmed with a nod. “And the others on the holt. There’s Beritte, this nice girl,” the man chuckled, to Tavi’s confusion, “and Fade--he’s a slave, kind of a half-wit, because he always gets so close to being able to be free and then spends all his money. Uncle Bernard does that,” Tavi explains, “to do a little to help, but it doesn’t work with Fade. But he’s a great tinker, and he’s my best friend. And there’s Aunt Isana, and that’s just about everyone.”
Something about the intensity of the man’s expression was a little disturbing. “Your Aunt Isana?” he asked quietly, almost to himself.
“Y-yes?” Tavi all but asked. “My--- well. Aunt Isana says her sister died when I was born.” It hurt too much to say his mother died. “And she doesn’t talk about my father at all.”
“Fade--he’s a metal crafter?”
“Yes… a very good one, even if he’s kind of ridiculous sometimes.” And then he smiled. “He always makes nice presents for me.”
There was a brief silence, and Tavi was beginning to wonder if he’d said something wrong. And then, in an infinitely gentle tone, the man asked, “Do you know me?”
Tavi shook his head. “Nosir.”
“My name is Gaius Septimus.” And then the former Princeps smiled brilliantly. “But then, you have no real reason to know that, do you?” He reached out to ruffle Tavi’s hair. “How old are you?”
“E-eleven, sir,” Tavi replied shyly. “I’m eleven.”
“Eleven?” he murmured to himself. “I wouldn’t have guessed. Then I suppose it’s been that long since--” He broke off, and smiled sadly at Tavi’s embarrassed expression. “I remember what happened, you know. You don’t have to look like that.”
“Sorry, sir.”
“No matter. You seem to need some help finding your way out. Come with me, I’ll show you.” He stood up, holding out a hand to Tavi, that warm smile lighting his eyes again.
Tavi uncertainly slipped his hand into the Princeps’, feeling an answering smile light his face. “Thank you,” he said very shyly.
“Don’t mention it,” Gaius Septimus assured him. “Now. Tell me about the holt. What it’s like.”
“Er… well… there’s mostly just sheep,” he replied a little doubtfully. Sheep weren’t interesting.
The Princeps laughed, head thrown back, green eyes dancing. Tavi couldn’t remember where he’d seen those eyes before. “Tell me anyway,” he urged. “About Isana, and--and Fade. And your uncle--and yes, the sheep too.”
Tavi wasn’t sure if he was being serious, but the look was so earnest, almost boyish in its eagerness, that he couldn’t help the instant desire to please. So he began to talk. About the kitchen, and Aunt Isana’s cooking, and trying to steal sweets while she wasn’t looking. About Uncle Bernard and his hound Brutus, and Cypress, and going to find the sheep. About huddling near enough the forge fire in winter that Fade gets distressed, and Aunt Isana scolds him, and Fade makes up for it with little shiny presents at times. About playing in the hay, and pulling pranks, and how Aunt Isana always knows, and how she takes care of him when he’s sick. Even about his lack of furycrafting at the moment, his possible future in it, his dreams of Alera Imperia and the Academy.
The Princeps listened to it all with a gentle, sad smile, as he led the boy through the halls. “I wouldn’t worry about your crafting, Tavi,” he reassured the boy. “I suspect when it happens, you’ll learn faster than most, and more capably than most. And you’ll get to the Academy one day--and when you do, you’re sure to find a patron.” He smiled to himself, much to Tavi’s confusion.
As they approached the open door, with bright light pouring through it, Tavi asked uncertainly, “You think so? Me, with a patron at the Academy?”
“I do. You’ll do great things for Alera one day. Wonderful things.” Septimus sounded mildly wistful, with a note of pride in his voice.
“But… I’m just a holder boy.”
“You’re not ‘just’ anything, Tavi--but on this you have to trust me. One day you’ll see.”
“You really think so?” he asked shyly, fingers unconsciously tightening on the hand holding his.
“I know so.”
“How can you know?”
And at that Gaius Septimus, once Princeps of Alera, threw his head back and laughed richly, joy and passion in his green eyes. “Instinct.”
Tavi stared up at him, breath caught in his throat, and quite suddenly he felt he almost understood what the man meant. He wasn’t really sure he believed him--but he understood what instinct meant. And the illogical part of him said that, against all the logic his mind presented, it was right. He wasn’t sure how he knew, but he did.
Instinctively.
Smiling, the Princeps pulled his hand free and ruffled Tavi’s hair. “Off with you. I’m sure Isana and A-ah, Fade are worried about you. And be a good boy and drink the disgusting concoction she‘ll doubtless give you.”
Tavi bobbed his head, blushing a little. “Yessir. Thank you, sir,” he said quietly. “For everything.” He turned to go, feeling the gaze following him as he trotted towards the door, into the light.
Gaius Septimus just smiled. “Take care, son.”
It was the last thing Tavi heard before the light took over everything, and it vanished.
“Tavi…”
“Tavi… Tavi!”
He stirred weakly, his chest feeling a little more relaxed, his throat still raw. “Aunt ‘sana?” he asked sleepily.
He heard her sigh audibly in relief. “Tavi. Fade, help me get him out.”
He felt himself being lifted up and out of the tub and laid back in his bed. “Tavi, better,” the slave said almost commandingly.
Tavi smiled weakly and patted his hand. “I’m trying,” he assured the man before starting to cough again.
“This is your medicine,” Aunt Isana said sternly. “You are going to take it this time, or I--”
“Yes, ma’am,” he replied meekly, holding out a weak hand. Aunt Isana blinked in astonishment for a moment, then helped him down the contents of the cup, and giving him a sympathetic kiss on the forehead when he made a face afterwards.
When he was done, she laid a cool hand on his forehead. “You can eat now, I suppose, and--”
He shook his head. “Want to sleep, please,” he said drowsily, and felt her smooth his hair.
“Of course,” she said with an audible smile in her voice. “I’m very proud of you for listening to me about the medicine.”
“Told me to,” he murmured indistinctly.
“…I’m sorry?”
“He said to be good for you, and get better.” He turned a little onto his side and curled up, clutching the blanket.
“Who told you?” she asked in some consternation.
He never replied, and never even heard it. He was already fast asleep.
Even through the sick feeling in his stomach and the fog in his head, Tavi could feel the rumble of his uncle‘s voice. “’Sana? How can I--”
“Get me more of this,” she said tiredly. Tavi thought he heard a low sound of distress, along with Uncle Bernard‘s rapidly vanishing footsteps.
He weakly waved a hand. “Fade? Fade… ‘sokay, Fade. I’ll… I’ll be fine. I--” He broke off into another hacking cough.
He couldn’t think past trying to breathe, although he thought he heard Aunt Isana ask Fade to get her tub. He tried hard to tell her that he didn’t need it, he only needed to sleep, but he didn’t remember actually doing so. Suddenly he felt a cool hand on his forehead and he bit back the instinctive scream with effort, although he couldn’t stop his faint whimper. But it was safe--it was only Aunt Isana, she was there, she’d take care of him. She always took care of him.
“Shhh, my child, you’ll be all right…” He shivered again and tried to cover her hand with his. “I told you not to stay out in the rain with that cold.“
“The lamb,“ he managed weakly through the cough, “it was… had to… it’s…?“
“It’s fine, Tavi. Better than you.“
There was a loud-ish sound, and then, “My lady?” A voice he didn’t quite recognize--who?
“I’m not your-- …You shouldn’t…”
“It’s faster than acting, and he needs it. Your tub--”
“Help me, Rari.”
The water was so cold, so very cold, and this time he couldn’t help screaming a little. But then he felt Rill starting to work, and sometime between whimpers he stopped really feeling the cold and the sweat and the fire, and everything was very, very still.
He’d never seen a place like this, he thought uncertainly. White marble halls, stretching out and branching into other halls, rooms, stairs--furies only knew what else. He turned around, wrapping his arms around himself as he realized he had no idea where on Carna he might be.
So he began to walk. He wouldn’t get much done staying put, right?
He wandered through the rooms and corridors, seeing no signs of life as he did. No furniture, no color, just blank marble walls, floor, ceiling. He didn’t know why--surely someone had to live here, as beautiful a building as it was. Eventually, from a window in another large, empty room--in the corner of his eye he thought he saw paneled wood, shelves, books, but every time he turned his head the walls were blank--he saw a garden. Green, with trees and grass and it sounded like running water, too. It only took a split second decision to go all but running from the room, tracing both back over previous routes and through new territory, trying to find that garden.
He knew, in the dim awareness of reality in the back of his mind, that he shouldn’t be running. He was too sick. He shivered as a sudden flash of cold washed over him--Rill, Rill was taking care of him--but then it was gone.
His efforts were only partially successful--he found a window on ground level looking out into the garden, but no door. Still, after barely a moment’s hesitation he had opened and climbed through the window, to begin wandering the garden.
He’d never seen anything like it, the bright flowers and sculpted green life. It was like a kind of wonderland, too--the green bright, cheerful, playing, not the wild and thorny, welcoming but dangerous beneath the apparent vibrancy. This one seemed clear, safe--more boring than the wilderness of Calderon, certainly, but that was okay, until he knew where he was. The sound of water caught his attention again, and he slowly meandered towards it. Water--Aunt Isana, she was worried about him. Something about a lamb, maybe. One of Lily’s. As the sound of water got louder, he grew a little more confident in his movements, less quiet and careful--and stopped abruptly, cracking a twig underfoot as he hid from the figure he saw standing there.
The man was tall, his hair Legion-short, and from what Tavi could see his features were strong, probably attractive by girl standards. He was dressed like a legionare too, with the gladius at his side, and red cloak, although he wasn’t wearing armor. He was staring pensively at the fountain, but turned his head when Tavi tried to hide. “Who’s there?”
Tavi peered hesitantly around the bush, though not responding per se. He lowered his eyes from the intense scrutiny, but was startled enough by the warm laugh to look up again.
“It’s fine, lad,” the man said gently. “Come here. You look a little lost.” Tavi obediently began making his way over as the man crouched down to his level, a warm and welcoming smile on his face. “What’s your name? ….You can look at me, you know,” he added with amusement lacing his tone.
Tavi looked up into a pair of vibrant, grass-green eyes, which set him almost instantly at his ease. “T-tavi, sir,” he stammered. “Tavi of Bernardholt. In Calderon Valley.”
Something like a shadow flashed in the man’s eyes at the mention of the place. “Calderon,” he murmured. Then, after a moment, “So it was still settled, after? Or--”
Tavi shook his head emphatically. “About a year after the Battle of Calderon, I think, is when Uncle Bernard started the holt. His family’s died. I didn’t get to see them.”
There was a pause, as yet more pain flashed in his eyes. “I’m sorry. It’s… never pleasant, not getting to see your family again, or never knowing them.” He paused. “You live with your uncle, then?”
“Uncle Bernard,” Tavi confirmed with a nod. “And the others on the holt. There’s Beritte, this nice girl,” the man chuckled, to Tavi’s confusion, “and Fade--he’s a slave, kind of a half-wit, because he always gets so close to being able to be free and then spends all his money. Uncle Bernard does that,” Tavi explains, “to do a little to help, but it doesn’t work with Fade. But he’s a great tinker, and he’s my best friend. And there’s Aunt Isana, and that’s just about everyone.”
Something about the intensity of the man’s expression was a little disturbing. “Your Aunt Isana?” he asked quietly, almost to himself.
“Y-yes?” Tavi all but asked. “My--- well. Aunt Isana says her sister died when I was born.” It hurt too much to say his mother died. “And she doesn’t talk about my father at all.”
“Fade--he’s a metal crafter?”
“Yes… a very good one, even if he’s kind of ridiculous sometimes.” And then he smiled. “He always makes nice presents for me.”
There was a brief silence, and Tavi was beginning to wonder if he’d said something wrong. And then, in an infinitely gentle tone, the man asked, “Do you know me?”
Tavi shook his head. “Nosir.”
“My name is Gaius Septimus.” And then the former Princeps smiled brilliantly. “But then, you have no real reason to know that, do you?” He reached out to ruffle Tavi’s hair. “How old are you?”
“E-eleven, sir,” Tavi replied shyly. “I’m eleven.”
“Eleven?” he murmured to himself. “I wouldn’t have guessed. Then I suppose it’s been that long since--” He broke off, and smiled sadly at Tavi’s embarrassed expression. “I remember what happened, you know. You don’t have to look like that.”
“Sorry, sir.”
“No matter. You seem to need some help finding your way out. Come with me, I’ll show you.” He stood up, holding out a hand to Tavi, that warm smile lighting his eyes again.
Tavi uncertainly slipped his hand into the Princeps’, feeling an answering smile light his face. “Thank you,” he said very shyly.
“Don’t mention it,” Gaius Septimus assured him. “Now. Tell me about the holt. What it’s like.”
“Er… well… there’s mostly just sheep,” he replied a little doubtfully. Sheep weren’t interesting.
The Princeps laughed, head thrown back, green eyes dancing. Tavi couldn’t remember where he’d seen those eyes before. “Tell me anyway,” he urged. “About Isana, and--and Fade. And your uncle--and yes, the sheep too.”
Tavi wasn’t sure if he was being serious, but the look was so earnest, almost boyish in its eagerness, that he couldn’t help the instant desire to please. So he began to talk. About the kitchen, and Aunt Isana’s cooking, and trying to steal sweets while she wasn’t looking. About Uncle Bernard and his hound Brutus, and Cypress, and going to find the sheep. About huddling near enough the forge fire in winter that Fade gets distressed, and Aunt Isana scolds him, and Fade makes up for it with little shiny presents at times. About playing in the hay, and pulling pranks, and how Aunt Isana always knows, and how she takes care of him when he’s sick. Even about his lack of furycrafting at the moment, his possible future in it, his dreams of Alera Imperia and the Academy.
The Princeps listened to it all with a gentle, sad smile, as he led the boy through the halls. “I wouldn’t worry about your crafting, Tavi,” he reassured the boy. “I suspect when it happens, you’ll learn faster than most, and more capably than most. And you’ll get to the Academy one day--and when you do, you’re sure to find a patron.” He smiled to himself, much to Tavi’s confusion.
As they approached the open door, with bright light pouring through it, Tavi asked uncertainly, “You think so? Me, with a patron at the Academy?”
“I do. You’ll do great things for Alera one day. Wonderful things.” Septimus sounded mildly wistful, with a note of pride in his voice.
“But… I’m just a holder boy.”
“You’re not ‘just’ anything, Tavi--but on this you have to trust me. One day you’ll see.”
“You really think so?” he asked shyly, fingers unconsciously tightening on the hand holding his.
“I know so.”
“How can you know?”
And at that Gaius Septimus, once Princeps of Alera, threw his head back and laughed richly, joy and passion in his green eyes. “Instinct.”
Tavi stared up at him, breath caught in his throat, and quite suddenly he felt he almost understood what the man meant. He wasn’t really sure he believed him--but he understood what instinct meant. And the illogical part of him said that, against all the logic his mind presented, it was right. He wasn’t sure how he knew, but he did.
Instinctively.
Smiling, the Princeps pulled his hand free and ruffled Tavi’s hair. “Off with you. I’m sure Isana and A-ah, Fade are worried about you. And be a good boy and drink the disgusting concoction she‘ll doubtless give you.”
Tavi bobbed his head, blushing a little. “Yessir. Thank you, sir,” he said quietly. “For everything.” He turned to go, feeling the gaze following him as he trotted towards the door, into the light.
Gaius Septimus just smiled. “Take care, son.”
It was the last thing Tavi heard before the light took over everything, and it vanished.
“Tavi…”
“Tavi… Tavi!”
He stirred weakly, his chest feeling a little more relaxed, his throat still raw. “Aunt ‘sana?” he asked sleepily.
He heard her sigh audibly in relief. “Tavi. Fade, help me get him out.”
He felt himself being lifted up and out of the tub and laid back in his bed. “Tavi, better,” the slave said almost commandingly.
Tavi smiled weakly and patted his hand. “I’m trying,” he assured the man before starting to cough again.
“This is your medicine,” Aunt Isana said sternly. “You are going to take it this time, or I--”
“Yes, ma’am,” he replied meekly, holding out a weak hand. Aunt Isana blinked in astonishment for a moment, then helped him down the contents of the cup, and giving him a sympathetic kiss on the forehead when he made a face afterwards.
When he was done, she laid a cool hand on his forehead. “You can eat now, I suppose, and--”
He shook his head. “Want to sleep, please,” he said drowsily, and felt her smooth his hair.
“Of course,” she said with an audible smile in her voice. “I’m very proud of you for listening to me about the medicine.”
“Told me to,” he murmured indistinctly.
“…I’m sorry?”
“He said to be good for you, and get better.” He turned a little onto his side and curled up, clutching the blanket.
“Who told you?” she asked in some consternation.
He never replied, and never even heard it. He was already fast asleep.