(Art by Juliana Wilhelm)
A morning filled with warm greetings, a fragrant cup of coffee and the loving embraces of arms both large and small. In her youth, Kalonah had hoped to attain the happiness she currently enjoyed but had not dared to dream of it.
Dreams end when one awakens after all. Far better to imbue hope into every step one must make to attaining what the heart desires. But now she wondered to herself, pen poised above the margins of yet another order awaiting notation, was there not another hope which had nestled deep and fulsome within her heart?
A letter predated the visit to be and I still feel a faint tickle of concern as I take one last tour of Ravenwing manor, much to the dismay of a few members of staff because the air is practically fraught with tension. Sera, my handmaid for many a year, follows me in a gathered wall of silent fretfulness that is far thicker than the most resolute of armaments.
After many a year of practice, she knows that the next seventy-two hours shall be rather hectic, but that at the end of a fortnight, she and the other staff will be blessedly free.
At least, for a season or two.
I do wish that Manizeh could be here but she is newlywed and forming her own household. Shaping her own traditions to be enjoyed during the holiday seasons. I worry after her and her beloved Lord Shazad as well, but primarily I pray that all good fortune reaches her and her kinsmen. That young lady Nela is faring well and finding the love her marvelous heart deserves. I pray that they both still have a chance to delight in the youthful adoration of their younger siblings as I shall soon do with my own kinsmen.
Not for the first time this evening, I inquire if any missives have arrived from Shadow’s Rest. I made a point to send a letter of inquiry to Lord @Aethgar inquiring if young Ahrwit II and Gareth might accompany their elder siblings this year to meet the rest of their extended family. The invite was one that was opened to any of the Valdyr progeny who had not yet passed their sixteenth year. After all, elder children could be appointed to watch the very young like tiny marshals in a parade of chaos.
Of course, the letter included a parcel outlining the various safety precautions embedded within Ravenwing manor as well as a list of names detailing the Stranvil’s immediate and expanded household. I did not bother to include a writ of recommendation because the man is in many ways, akin to myself. He would dismiss the praise of another and simply investigate by his own efforts.
I do hope that they may come. It would be lovely to have all of the children together from across the families.
I am checking on the stability of a bookshelf which has recently had its upper moorings replaced when the somber din of the front doorbell announces the arrival of our guests. There is no falsehood in my amusement to hear Seras quietly breathe a prayer to the Si- Five while we descend to greet those who await entry.
Well. Let the Wintersday holiday begin!
He has his sire’s smile and laugther along with my hair and skin. He is my joy and light. A source of surprising pride and anxiousness. This child, my little prince amongst princes. I would offer you the world as quickly as I would for your siblings.
I pray to any god who still listens that your smile remains whole and filled with wonderment for this world. My sweet Ahadu Set Arpyur Valdyr, first of possibly many yet to come.
~Kalonah tidied the festive bow which sat atop a large parcel before entrusting it to Malcus for delivery to Shadowsrest. Within were new winter cloaks for the children, embroidered across the collars with the markings of their family. Along the edges and backs were more individualized threadwork. For young Ahrwit II, muted gold trimmed in wine with black filigreed feathers woven throughout both. A prayer perhaps, that he would retain a light heart and string spirit.
For young Gareth, an inverse of both colors with silver leaves reaching heavenward from the center of the garment. A reflection and hope for him to grow strong and true. For their younger sibling Ahadu, a thick and hooded poncho for ease of dressing the active little boy when he visited.
His apparel was crimson trimmed in silver which framed glossy black butterflies dancing over floral vibes. Beneath the three was a larger cloak of a brilliant, eye-watering shade of peacock green trimmed in gold with a feather motif across the entirety of it for their uncle along with an impossibly tiny replica and a note.~
“Warm hugs for the darling boys for when I am away and something to keep their dear uncle from growing paler in winter’s cruel bite. Also, an additional cloak to thaw out his sense of humor. These are enchanted for warmth and lined with trackers for finding lost lambs who have strayed too far. House frequency XX.XXX.X.XX. Within a few weeks, I will be hosting the annual gathering of the little ones of all of my kin. This, of course, includes those of Valdyr. Do let me know if the boys may come or if any others under the age of 16 wish to visit? I have included all documentation concerning the individuals who will be attending over the age of two.
Sincerely and respectfully,”
Lady Kalonah Valdyr
One day, she would let @aethgar in on how much she enjoyed teasing him.
At times I wonder what my little brother would have been like. Would he have laughed as our mother did? Looked upon the world with cool appraisal as does sire? Might his heart have beaten with unchecked passions as our sister? Or would he be his own creature, new and unknown? I wonder at times who he would have been and pray that my life is worth his loss.
~Restless shadows trouble my sleep. Disturb my thoughts and awaken me without warning. I know that I promised my love that I would undo the connection which links me to our son, Ahadu and I am making every effort to do so. But over the last half-year, the effort has grown more difficult. Not simply because his young mind is growing along with his beautiful form, but because I keep sensing a fear.
A worry that does not entirely banish and it leads me to check up on our child when I know that he is well. That he is safe. That he is loved and happy. But if that is true, where does this sensation arise from? It has loomed like a specter since his birth and it is only of late that I am more clearly noting its presence.
Is it my missing creatures, Nadir and Noir? Or something else?
A heavenly aroma of breakfast awoke me. A tantalizing siren's call to stir deliciously weary limbs at the ardent behest of my growling stomach. Dream weed was a marvelous meditative aid but at times it left me as famished as a hard marched army. My hand moved of its own will, seeking my heart's own twin only to be met with the whisper of cool emptiness.
That hint of chill lingering in the air of the room is easily banished by the sumptuous warmth of a robe belted about me. It does not take long for me to tend to my morning absolutions in preparation for a shared morning repast.
Of course, he was gone already and had managed to slip from our bed without stirring me in the slightest. I felt an amused hum spreading out to easily fill the spaces of my heart. There were days when Ahrwit awoke at hours which would shame even a cockerel to confess to keeping.
Not for the first time I find myself considering the source of the peculiar hours my love observes. Were they a remnant of times spent slipping from a window after a night shared in a secret tryst? Or as equally likely given his storied past, the habits of one who must escape before the dark deeds of an unseen assassination are discovered come morn?
His honeyed laugh reached me so potently that I could not help glancing about with an expectation of spotting his a vulpine smile somewhere nearby. Chiding myself a bit, I finished and descended to join Ahrwit at the dining table while inquiring as to which of my speculations was the closest to the truth.
~'Yes.’ ~
I could feel the ways his mirth filled the distance between us but he chose not to elaborate further while his focus returned to whatever task he was tending to.
As ever, I cannot help but admire the deftness with which the man can flip between dizzying bouts of loquaciousness or maddening brevity when presented with questions. Truly, he was Lyssa's most devoted child at times. Thinking of our beloved goddess brought my mind to the topic of our rather engaging discourse. Or topics I should say. I still cannot believe that in the midst of discussing casual dalliances and their appeal, I would think of a man who has not crossed my mind in what feels like ages.
Lord Emrys Halvari. Admirable, intelligent, driven and not entirely uneasy on the eyes. Both blessed by and devoted unto Lyssa as one of her many priests. I truly did enjoy his company before he departed on a pilgrimage.
My hand moves to massage my cheek and I can feel how feverish my blush is just from the casual touch. All at once I feel fifteen again and attending my first official ball. With painful clarity, I recall facing an unremarkable young man holding out his hand while I stood in stiff-shouldered desperation, attempting to recall lessons in etiquette and dance.
My legs cannot bear up the weight of such sheer mortification and I sit on the stairs with a groan, brow pressed to the cooling wall. I might die of belated embarrassment to learn of just how ignorant I had been to my own feelings. I once had a crush on Lord Halvari. I knew that I admired him and enjoyed his company, but did not recognize anything more at the time. But in hindsight?
"...Lyssa's lacy little knickers."
Borrowing a faintly adapted curse from Deborah, my thoughts reach out to give Ahrwit a vicious mental tickling when I hear snatches of his laughter not long after I spoke. The act itself is far less severe than what would have once been an urge to upturn the nearest container of liquid over his head. Or ignore him entirely for a fortnight. Our years together have greatly helped to expand the borders of my leniency.
Rising to continue making my way downstairs, I concede that abstaining from his presence would have been as miserable for myself as for him. There is no shame in admitting that I thoroughly enjoy our time together, in all and every way.
Never had I considered that I would feel even a modicum of ease in the idea of one who is my soul's truest mate, laying with another. It is an act which I once swore was unthinkable and unpardonable. A deed that would be both grave and deadly for the other. Fatal really, depending upon the severity of the transgressor's actions and documented rates of ‘accidental’ deaths in whatever their chosen hobbies might be. I can feel myself smiling again and arrange my expression a more seemly one for the benefit of any chance servant.
I rather feel that felling someone who has committed a nuptial betrayal is the only sensible solution as far as managing a sound public face in the wake of such a flagrant show of disrespect. After all, widowhood is still far more socially acceptable than divorce. Lecter's 'death' showed me that.
But, do I feel that way at the notion of another with Ahrwit? That committing such an act would give birth to wounds great enough to consider a kiss of poison in his soul?
Hmm. Strangely, I do not find the idea of his dalliances as grotesque an anathema as I would have in regards to former beloveds. Maybe because I trust him? Because it is as he said. A coin spent in flesh, not soul or heart? Maybe because I can feel the truth within him about such matters? There is no need to guess, no need to question the worth of myself or wring my hands in piteous indignation. I simply knew.
Yet again I feel my expression shifting along with my thoughts and enjoy the unhurried journey to my destination. Whilst I do not entirely care for the idea of his artistry as a whole, I would not strive to kill the man over the matter. Once? Oh certainly once I might have railed and threatened with words and magic slung like venomed daggers.
How greatly I have changed over the years.
A swift search within the reserves of myself finds my soul unaltered. Although I knew that would be the result I retain a continued relief that my lord, teacher, and husband has never attempted to adjust my viewpoints to suit his whims. At least not through any means save discourse and other rather persuasive skills of oration.
When I round the corner to find a breakfast table ladened with a small feast to regale every sense possessed, I cannot help but feel my gaze being drawn to the most delectable arrangement in the room. His smile is temptation itself for another but I cannot help but feel a swell of love.
Let the artist paint imaginative worlds and capture moments of legend. The sculptor hew miracles from inert stone. A bard transforms mundane breath and twine into glories. I find myself curious about what Lord Ahrwit Valdyr of House Corvidae might create if offered a chance. Ah yes, that does remind me.
I press a lingering kiss to his ear, feeling how my breath tickles his skin. "On your forays through Lyssa’s bounty, do please take moonseed if you would? I should think Ahadu does not need another sibling. Not just yet."
Feeling more settled on the matter, I inspect the datapad detailing the day’s itinerary.
( @ahrwit because Kalonah simply has to chew a bone until its dust.))
*Kalonah smiled as she watched Manizeh appear in a dazzling display of mesmeric magic, the center of attention as every bride should be on their happy day. A glance down the aisle noted how proud and clearly besotted Lord Salm was with his intended. She could only pray that Lyssa was as generous in her bounty for their union as the goddess had been in her own.
A dark hand lightly adjusted the floor-length dress which adorned her, its carefully detailed trim embroidered with a silver parade of exotic birds. Inwardly, Kalonah rather hoped she looked more fitting to be a guest at this affair than she felt.
She had hoped to make it in time and do all that she could to attend once receiving the invitation in the mail. Gods alone knew that to have missed so momentous a moment in her dear friend’s life would have been unforgivable. Certainly, there had been less time to spend simply catching up but that did not change her affection for Manizeh, nor her respect for lord Salm.
But yes. The gown hopefully was suitable for the colors of the affair. Kalonah had chosen it for rather mundane reasons, many of which had amused Ahrwit whilst she was creating it.
‘Long enough to hide if I must take off my heels at a table. Lyssa, will my feet ever feel comfortable in a pair again? Cool enough for the weather. Hair -off- my neck. Should I cut it? No..no. I think I might genuinely see Ahrwit and Hiriam succumb to hysterics if I did. Delilah might forgive me but only just barely. Deborah seems to be doing well with her brood and growing her own out. I suppose I shall continue to press Seras to the task. Simple jewelry, arcane stones to give a thief a bad day and at least two stave-lets in case someone needs a gentle rap across their shins.’
After momentarily glancing down to inspect herself and double-check to see if Ahadu left handprints anywhere during their parting hug, Kalonah turned her attention forward once more. When the music shifted and as the vows were read she felt her chest tighten in genuine adoration of the devoted couple who stood triumphant after so many trials in both of their lives
Moments later, a kerchief was in hand and ready for the fitful sniffles which arose at the exchange of such heartfelt words of devotion.
Oh, goddess, she would not even attempt to blame her poor hormones on the rush of emotions filling her spirit.
After all, why would anyone want to excuse a thing as simple as joy for a friend?
(( @manizeh @salmshahzad @ahrwit
Anyone who might have chanced across this silly old gal is welcome to say hello. I swear to god, neither she nor I am entirely dead. :D ))
“...how can you tell? She isn’t frowning and hasn’t said a word since we spilled that wine on her gown. We did apologize and she said it was fine. ...Do you really think she isn’t upset?”
“I never said she wasn’t upset. I said she wasn’t mad. Given what I’ve heard about her, she might have made that gown herself? Beneath that calm expression, Lady Valdyr is likely fucking furious.”
“....I’ll just offer to cover the cleaning costs then, shall I?”
“She glanced our way again. Better add a donation to her favorite charity too.”
((Holy shit this is late as fuck. Starting a business will do that.^_^;))
My sleep is filled with nightmares. Uneasy shapes which shift between the known and fantastical, terrifying beasts which morph easily into the guises of men yet, are not. Eyes where none should be, horns and claws sprouting from the ether of phantasmagorical realms. Such visions greeted me the first night after the birth of my son, Ahadu and have been my nightly companions near as each night since for almost a year.
Through a once benevolent realm, I now hear the sharp caw of ravens winging their way overhead through haunted forests. Within prowls a stag prince in defense of his realm. At his side move fluid bodies, at once laughing foxies, wild-eyed and free. In an instant, they become wolves with bristling hides and blackened lips peeled back from rending fangs. Warnings are woven into every step they take in a preternatural silence broken only by their guttural growls.
Today we are enjoying a moment of quiet and peace at home at Ravenwing manor. Ahrwit is marveling anew at the bright wonder and delight his son has when playing or simply beholding the world. Of feeling the half-formed thoughts of our child which have become a part of our connection, although more limited than when I once held Ahadu within my own flesh. It is a compromise, for I know that Ahrwit had found my tendency to speak with our son in utero to be novel and mayhaps, quite queer. But I could not contain my excitement to meet our son and had been impatient. Even now, that tenuous tie lets us anticipate Ahadu’s moods before he chances to vocalize them.
I still do not know what happened the day my precious child came into this world and a part of my heart is heavy with the loss of what for many new mothers, is an irreplaceable memory. It seems that the adage of births being difficult for first-time mothers was far from a wive’s tale for I can barely recollect much beyond flashes of blurred memory. The sound of my beloved’s voice raised in wrath that barely masked the fear beneath it. A wet nurses' scream and a growl? Two? Confusing sounds of glass shattering and waves of agonizing pressure assailing my body like nothing I could have ever imagined. As soon as Ahadu’s first cries split the air, he was in my arms and I was in Ahrwit’s. I could feel the deep reverberations of his chest as he barked commands and ...fled? He would not tell me later why we left and more than once, brushed the inquiry aside with a declaration that we were no longer safe there.
After speaking with Manizeh and Lord Salm Shahzad, no doubt the Valdyr intuition had been blessed that day.
My heart swells watching Ahrwit’s handsome visage brighten like the sun as Ahadu grasps a silvered lock of his sire’s hair and I paint the scene within my heart amongst many, many others. To see them this way is a blessing. A far cry from Ahrwit’s agitated and watchful state when we traveled back via airship to Kryta. He barely left the cabin where I was swaddled thickly under blankets, drifting in and out of a sleep that seemed reluctant to allow me to remain in the waking realm. I recall snatches of wakefulness to behold Ahrwit clutching our son close as though to protect the child from...something?
One day I will ask again but no doubt, Ahrwit will sidestep the question. He had grown rather evasive concerning the matter and truthfully? There are far more enjoyable things to do today, here at home surrounded by loved ones and security.
How many mothers can say that they have little to no recollection of delivering their first born? Some might smile proudly, boast of the ease in which they both carried and bore new life into the world. Others might frame their lips in convincing caricatures of happiness while turning away haunted gazes, their voices hesitant to reply to queries of future progeny. Some may choose silence, anger, hurt or loss. No two births in the whole of the world are ever alike, but truthfully...I do wish that I knew what mine had been like.
Of Ahadu’s arrival, I can but speak of this. There had been fear both great and momentous which seized my heart in an inexorable grasp the likes of which I had never felt the likes of in many a year. The troubled countenance of the midwife was recalled, a sensible woman selected by my love to sustain our growing family and wisely so it would seem. I recall the warmth and strength of Ahrwit’s hand holding onto my own, his physical presence an equal balm to that of the mental succor serenading my fracturing thoughts through our bond.
I believe...I had panicked? Snatches of memory both disjointed and insensible drift through my mind now and then. Noises, shouting. Someone screaming but I cannot tell if it was my voice or another’s. A pressure, unlike anything, ever felt before and then...nothing. The recollections flee from my attempts to claim them like sand through a sieve. Each, however, bore a sour tang of terror and withering hopes. But mostly, they reeked of magic and shame, potent as a mouthful of spoiled sweets.
A cursory thought confirmed that the spell woven into the rich ebon warmth of my skin was still intact if a measure frayed here and there. Did something happen? I cannot recall and Ahrwit has stressed that I need rest more than answers. But how can I sleep when the unknown whispers to me as it has since I awoke with my son tucked safely in my arms?
My son. Ahadu Set Valdyr.
He who is the First Peace between two great Powers.
May his name be a blessing all his life and never felt to be either curse or unbearable burden. Feeling the warmth of him resting in my arms, the faint pangs as he nurses with a healthy appetite and smiles... I had never imagined that I could love another this deeply aside from my dearest Ahrwit. And yet, within my arms is the most precious person in the world to me.
The older Elonian noblewoman was thrilled of late. She could be found hosting private tea parties as well as attending socially notable gatherings that just the year before, might not have had space to include the ‘newer’ Elonian household. But suddenly the Apryurs were guests in high demand and frankly, her immediate social circle could outshine emeralds with how envious they’d become of late. But Lady Miyani was nothing if not a noblewoman and took her family’s uptick in social fortune with full grace and aplomb.
After all. She had grandchildren to consider future connections for.
Lord Velkat Arpyur:
Refugee’s son. Sailor. Kraitbuster. Businessman. Noble. Husband. Father. Velkat had been many things in his life, some of them he was still proud to claim a hand in and others would be regrets to lay at Grenth’s feet. But of late, his stoic features were often framing a smile so faint that one could blame a trick of lighting on the subtle shifting of his lips. His wife was delighted and children well wed and flourishing.
But now and then, he’d contemplate his sons-in-law and think to himself that maybe... Just maybe he’d retired too soon.
Through each progressive day, It watched silently while Kalonah grumbled. Pulling herself from heavily tangled sheets without the refreshing light of a sound rest to alleviate the shadows beneath her prismatic eyes. Far too often Nadir observed her rubbing fitfully at her hips or back, caught each ponderous groan as she shuffled away from a chair towards the temporary relief of a drawn bath.
Nadir was displeased, or some other distracting sentiment which almost mirrored an emotion beyond sadistic avarice. Whatever the emotion was, far too often the air within the cozy apartment shared by Kalonah and Ahrwit, was peppered with grumbles and biting words as the young Elonian mother to be found a doe-eyed demon all but underfoot whenever she turned around. As a result, more than once Nadir had been caught blindsided by a mesmeric thrust to clear a path between Its mistress and her beloved copper tub. Or sent unceremoniously from the room by Ahrwit’s protective, paternal presence.
Nadir wasn't happy.
If anyone asked why, no doubt the creature might cite a hundred reasons or none at all, opting instead to simply devour the querent. But to Itself, a tangible answer was all but impossible to grasp. All that It knew was that the current bearer of Its contract was dismayed. No... She was distressed. Her body riddled with aches radiating bone-deep while discussing with midwives as to why the yet born spawn hadn't seen fit to make his anticipated arrival. Ahadu was late. Positioned and certainly ready to arrive, but late nonetheless.
Inwardly, Nadir knew infants had as much control over the where and how of their birth as raindrops might dictate where they fell. Be that as it may, the umbral hound was heartily annoyed with the slip of mortal flesh even before his arrival. And that annoyance annoyed Nadir even more! So far too often, It found itself drawing closer to Kalonah, all but underfoot at times. Catching and righting her should she trip, being chased from the room by her or a distrustful Ahrwit. But within the hour, Nadir would again be the second shadow for the mother to be.
It didn't like when she was distressed. The notion in and of itself was just another annoyance heaped upon others and equally unwelcome. Nadir pushed the idea aside because It knew better. It was simply irritated that they hadn't gone for a lovely walk in a while, that's all. That there had been numerous chances to go out alone or with Noir for a snippet of misery was again, a reality ignored.
And so, that was the tale Nadir wove within Its own mind because a demon can lie exceptionally well, especially to itself.
