little bird.

eira jacos. xxii. singer. and there's a MILLION things i haven't done but just you wait just you wait.

[eirajacos-blog]

kassiopeanolle:

Eira’s smile warmed Kass’ heart straight through, making her feel like even in the midst of this chaos and catastrophe, she still had her little bird, singing in her ear and bringing her joy and sanity. The soldier appeased her friend, letting her hold the scrap with all the careful and amused indulgence that a parent might have for a child. “You can do more, sweetheart. Just not in the danger zone.” She refused to think of Eira, soft and sweet Eira, Eira of sanctuary and calm, being corrupted by the horrors of a post-war scene. She refused to think of Eira harmed by such horrible visions and grotesque losses. And she refused to see Eira suffering because Kass wasn’t fast enough to save her.

“I’ll carry you wherever you want so long as you stay far away from this, little bird.” Adrenaline was pumping through Kass, and she couldn’t even tell if she was hurt or not. She didn’t want to know. It wouldn’t stop her, and she wouldn’t pause to address any sort of injury anyway. The knowledge of it would bring her more pain than relief. “I would let Tavvy and Theo stay, because they are trained, Eira. You are not. One day you might be, but that day is not today.” The resentment in her eyes might have wounded Kass in another situation, wanting nothing more than to keep the sweet girl safe, but that was not this time. As she’d realized previously, there was no time for pain. At the urgency in Eira’s voice, Kass picked her up once more, not as before put pressed chest to chest and pressed a kiss to Eira’s forehead then tucked her forehead tight to the other girl’s before hugging her close. “As soon as it’s ok, you are going to be at my right hand, and I will not let you out of my sight. You’ll go where I go, and you’ll help who I help. But for now, for now, Eira, you must be kept safe, ok. Do you understand me? I need that. Stop fighting me, because I’m going to take you to that bunker right now whether it’s kicking and screaming or compliant.” Gripping Eira’s hand in hers, she began forging past other screaming bodies, determined to keep this one person, this one precious person safe.

               " But that's what I want to do, " Eira insisted, somewhat aware she sounded like a pouty, petulant child. It offered a stark contrast with the violence around them, but perhaps that was simply the Kassiopea effect: creating a bubble around her, be it of sullen anger or the infinite gentleness she was showing right now. " People don't need me elsewhere right now — they need me where they're hurt. " She'd never tried to sing someone's pain away ( mostly because she was never given an occasion to ), but now that she was thinking about it, it must be possible. Eira was no soldier, alright, but surely they could find some use for her in a war zone. " Drop it, actually. I'm never gonna be able to argue this out with you, am I ? "                Despite everying, she felt the hint of a grin tug at her lips. Her fingers tightened around Kass' shoulder, using the other to keep herself steady on her feet. " You're not really giving me a choice here. " She knew that if she wanted to, the other could probably throw her over her shoulder like a sack of floor and carry her into the bunkers willing or not, and there was nothing Eira would be able to do about that. Still, it didn't have to come down to such a thing. She didn't protest or kick as Kassiopea swept her up again, instead tucking her limbs closer to her body to make herself smaller and closing her eyes under the graze of surprisingly soft lips. " Let's go, then. If you say so, then I trust you. " Simple as that, despite the nagging, childish part of her that still wanted to go out into the fray. " You be careful, though. Promise me ? "

[2008music-deactivated20230326]

So enough of this terror. We deserve to know light, and grow evermore lighter and lighter.

Joanna Newsom, “Sawdust and Diamonds” (via loonybby)

[tessaghrays]

tid appreciation week; favorite quote

[eirajacos-blog]

ofsilentbeauty:

date / march 19th

location / bunkers 

status / open

        Lungs were supposed to provide oxygen for the heart to pump it throughout the rest of the body. Blood passed through the alveoli and picked up oxygen while it did so. Then veins carried that oxygen back to the heart, where it was then pumped throughout the rest of the body. However, when lungs refused to work, the entire process slowed until the heart eventually ceased to beat. Still covered in her mother’s blood, Leira certainly couldn’t breathe and the few breaths that escaped lips once exquisitely coated in light pink lipstick came out labored and let little oxygen into her system.

        Despite the acute lack of her lungs working, she knew that her recent tragedy had not caused her ducts to cease function in any way. Tears fell freely down her face, mingling with makeup, silver blood and general grime. Skin that was rarely seen without makeup, now looked bare with only silver blood. tears and smeared makeup. In nearly any other situation, she would have stood up straight and demanded to be allowed to change, to fix her makeup, to look like the image of perfection that her mother worked hard to make sure she fostered.

        Although, no one seemed to pay much attention to little girl sobbing with her knees pulled to her chest and her back pressed against a wall. No, here, under the castle, surrounded by those who felt the same pain and loss that she did, she was simply another face. A bitter laugh escaped her lips, her mother would have rioted at the thought of her perfect daughter being fractured to imperfection because of her death. A stronger girl, a more perfect girl, would have pulled herself together and wiped her tears. With that thought, another round of sobs overtook the girl.

        Voice harsh from sobs and screams, she spoke for the first time since she begged her mother not to leave her, “ Has anyone seen my brother ? ” Name. she should say his name, in case anyone didn’t realize who she was, who her brother was. “ Emory. Has anyone ever seen him ? Please tell me he’s okay. ” She left him with their mother’s body, alone, the thought of being near her mother’s corpse anymore made her stomach threaten to revolt.

               The bunkers were crowded, but they felt infinitely safer than being out in the open. The whispers around her did nothing to soothe her concerns, though ; if anything, they fueled the dozens of questions buzzing inside her head. Who did this and why why why— The scent of death was stuck with them even here, the air smelling vaguely of blood. Eira's own dress was still drenched with it, though it had dried against her skin and the cut it'd seeped from had been healed. She wanted to scrub at it, scrub until there was nothing left from the last hour, not even memories. But there was no such thing as erasing the gore from her mind, and the best she could do was trying to distract herself with other thoughts.                Has anyone seen my brother ? Eira automatically turned towards the direction the question had come from. Perhaps she had, after all, whoever had spoken. The Gathering Hall had been a mess of shouts and bodies and panic, but she had made out a few faces as she fled. Perhaps it was Sofiya Provos, whom she could have she could have told her brother was hurt but alive. Eira did not recognize the voice until her eyes fell on Leira ; the broken tone, tears-wrecked and harsh, couldn't be more different from what she was used to seeing in the young nymph. The girl hurried towards her almost-sister-in-law, sitting down by her side and reaching for her hands, clasping them in a gentle grasp. " Leira, I saw him. I got him here, actually. " She spared the other girl the details about how she'd intentionally used her ability to coax him into following her, or how she balanced between being unapologetic and feeling terribly guilty about it. " He's...he's alright. Mostly unhurt, but grieving. Oh, Leira, I'm so sorry. " She pressed the redhead's hands, rubbing small circles into their backs. " Are you okay ? I-I know there isn't much I can do, but please talk to me. Sometimes it feels better after you do. " She wished she wasn't speaking from experience.

[eirajacos-blog]

emoryosanos:

                 In the years that Emory had known Eira, she had never once used her powers on him. In fact, he liked that they seemed to be on the same page with their abilities: only use them when necessary, never take advantage. In the midst of his trance, he wondered at the back of his mind why she found this to be such a necessary moment. Not at all distanced from the situation or his own emotions, Emory couldn’t fathom why she wouldn’t just leave him. Leave him to wallow, leave him to mourn, leave him to suffer from another impact–he wouldn’t mind. Instead, Eira had decided to take advantage of his mind, which seemed so very uncharacteristically her.  

                   After making it to shelter, Emory felt no sense of relief wash over him. He just felt numb. Even when Eira’s power had worn off and he was himself again, he just felt numb. As his betrothed spoke, he looked at her with mild disbelief, his eyes slowly blinking. For the first time since they had met, he recognized her power–and how ruthless it could be if she ever lost her restraint. He didn’t want to hear why she did it, why she found it so important to control him like that; he just wanted to be alone. If he couldn’t be with his mother, then he had to be alone.

                “There’s always more than one way to handle difficult situations,” Emory felt hot tears gracing his cheeks again, and he wasn’t sure they had ever stopped. He looked around at the crowd of people, all of the blood and the chaos, and when he looked back to Eira he couldn’t meet her gaze. “I don’t want to be here.”

               The more she thought about it, the more ashamed she was. Perhaps she should have tried softer persuasion — but you didn't have the time, her brain whispered. Or did she ? All coherent thoughts Eira could form were of concern and urgency, the need to get out of that scene as swiftly as she could, do whatever it took to see Emory to safety. She couldn't bear the thought of leaving him out there, to see him hold on to his mother as guards would try to pry her away. Still, was he better off like this ? " Maybe there is, but I couldn't leave you and we couldn't stay. " She had never been overly eloquent, but words seemed to fail her even more now. She moved to wipe a few tears off his cheek then snatched her hand back at the very last moment, curling back into herself, eyes filling with guilt. It took a moment for her to speak again.                " You've got to be, " Eira insisted. " It's safer...better here. Believe me, it would have been worse for you if a stranger had dragged you away. You might not remember that right now, and it's alright, but I know grief. Maybe not yours, but I did what I thought was best and I can't feel more sorry than this about it. " Another moment of silence. Someone must have handed her something to press against her bleeding cut on their way in, and she cradled it absently now, eyes anxiously scanning Emory's face. " Please don't hate me for this. I—I just wanted to spare you as much pain as possible. " A sob was building in her throat, but she bit it back. It wasn't her time to cry right now, surely the dam that'd held on all these years could go like this a little longer.

[eirajacos-blog]

decadentlonging:

In another moment, one not still shuddering under the pressure of chaos, Rahul would have sneered at Eira’s response. Nobility be damned, she is bleeding from just below her neck and yet is so utterly willing to throw herself to the wolves and stumble over her words in order to offer aid to others–had she no instinct for self-preservation?  This is not the moment for chastising either, though. They have little choice but to accept her words. Eyes darting to their shoulder, mind turning quickly now that the shock of the blast and the blow had faded, they slip the silk dupatta from around their neck with their working hand. Silver already stained the black silk–might as well offer it to the wolves as well. “A brace would help,” they say, “but you cannot go without something to staunch your bleeding.” They drape it around her neck, though with only one hand they cannot pull it tight against her wound themself, and feel it best if she adjusts it for herself. It was meant to be worn as a scarf anyway.

Leaving no time to dwell, they shrug the jacket from their shoulders with only some difficulty. It’s thin, not meant to be structured or overly functional, so it does not take much effort to alter it–though they still grit their teeth when the ripping of the shoulder seam reaches their ears. A terrible noise, rending their heart in two almost as easily as the fabric itself, but they manage. Threads split beneath their fingers and they recall with near-perfect clarity the time they spent bowed over their worktable putting each stitch in. It is the silver soaking into the cloth that, though they sigh, reminds them of their purpose. It was ruined before–now, in strips, she can use it as a bandage or a brace. Whatever suits her best.

Their gruesome work finished, they offer the remains to her with a wave of their hand, allowing them to float within her reach. “Yours cannot wait the way mine can,” they say, attempting to keep their bitterness at the situation for requiring such drastic action out of words they directed at her. “Pain is one thing. If you lose too much blood–” They shake their head. “Don’t trust me to carry you to safety. My arm is uncooperative and my guess is that drifting in midair alongside me is not how you want to escape this.”

Another twinge of their shoulder makes them pause, a ragged breath leaving their tight jaw, but it lets them think clearly again. The bunkers. A fantastic idea, though not without one simple issue. “Osanos will be looking for you.” Much in the way they realize they will soon be looking for their sister. Head to the bunkers–or find Emory with her? For her? 

               Eira accepts the scrap of silk with unmasked gratitude, doing her best to wrap it around her chest and shoulder so it contains most of the bleeding. Silver quickly seeps through the fabric, but she supposes it will have to do until they find a skin healer. “ Thank you, ” she breathes as she ties the knot with fumbling hands, pulling it as tight as she dares. She tests its flexibility, bending her arm and shrugging a little ; the makeshift seems to hold its own. “ A brace — right, hold on… ” Materials. Right. The fabric she now has, thanks to the sacrifice of a jacket it seems has hurt Rahul almost as much as the dislocated shoulder he needs it for. She tries to focus, to remember what she was told as a child about the many injuries a lively but careless little girl can sustain and how to take care of them. Words form jumbles inside her head, enough to make her stifle a groan of frustration.                " My pride could take it, " Eira remarks as she snatches the silk up, smoothing out the strips and stepping towards them. " Still, I believe both of us will make it to safety on our feet. Let me just...do this, and then we can get to the bunkers, okay ? " In truth, she only has a vague idea of where they are, but she trusts both Rahul's knowledge and the crowd's common sense. Surely they will rush towards the safest place possible once the initial outbreak has died down. When would that be, she isn't sure. " A-alright, please don't move. " Her hair has mostly fallen out of her bun, a few golden pins tangled in brown curls. She picks them out as she goes, wrapping layer after layer of bloody silk around Rahul's shoulder to secure it into place and pinning her work into place. " I got this, I got this, " she mutters to herself, pulling at the fabric as much as she dares without jostling them. The end result is far from what a professional would do, but she supposes it is better than nothing. " Do the bandages hurt ? Should I loosen them a little ? I could try to dull the pain for you, " Eira offers, though timidly. She's never tried to soothe someone by Singing to them before, but surely it must be possible. She wouldn't know, hesitant as she is to take away someone's free will, even for an useful purpose.                " Oh, gods, Emory. " She feels terribly guilty for forgetting, even for a moment ; the girl twists her hands, shifting on her feet. " Have you seen him ? I was supposed to join him later, he must have been closer to the king— " No. No. Nonononono. Her brain refuses to consider the unimaginable. " He must have gone to safety as well, " she manages, voice tainted by gut-wrenching worry. " How about your sister ? Lady Sofiya, right ? She must be out of her mind with concern. "

[eirajacos-blog]

finnquest:

Eira. He doesn’t realize how worried he is for the other, not until he sees her, not until she’s close enough that the haze clears and the tight knot of fear anxiety dread loosens in his heart and he can breathe again.

“Eira-” his voice stumbles, shaken but of course it is, of course he is. “I- I’m fine.” Her words have been lost on him already, lost by the shouting, lost through the crowd; his eyes are tracking over her frame, the ugly silver staining her skin- not enough, sight is not enough.

He’s not entirely cognizant of the way he reaches for her, only discerns after he’s grasped her hands with his and the red on his hands is staining her palms (not his own blood- he’d forgotten this, how he’d torn away his gloves and held the red slick hands of a man who could no longer be saved, how he had realized then there was no healing him and his voice had died as it shouted for a healer)– but that is lost too, everything is lost and he cannot comprehend anything for that moment of time except to know that she is safe, she will be safe, this is over.

“You’re bleeding.” Still he has not let go of her, beyond the initial reassurance of her safety relieved to feel the solid warmth of another’s hand on his- “Are you alright?” Foolish words, he becomes conscious of that as soon as they leave his mouth, how could she be alright- “Do you need a healer?”

               “ Finn ! ” Her voice overflows with the relief that threatens to overpower her. She wasn’t sure he was even here, had tried not to worry herself too much about his fate — but to see him unharm, know he’s real beneath her hands, truly is something else. She holds on for dear life, basking in the knowledge that he’s there, that for now he’s still safe. One bubble of concern disappears while dozens of others remain, but it’s enough to bring a fleeting grin to her face. “ Thank the gods you’re alright. It’s not yours, is it ? ” Her own hands hold a little bit of red now, but it doesn’t seem to come from a cut. No, it’s just there, like the whole world turned to smoke in a few heartbeats.

               She looks down as the one that mars her skin, silvery droplets still beading on her skin. It stings, but it’s no unbearable pain, and for that she is more than grateful. “ It’s okay, ” she says in a voice that shakes more than she would like it to. “ It— it doesn’t hurt much. I’m not going to bleed out or anything. ” After a given quantity of blood has been lost, she knows she should feel light-headed and dizzy, but it seems she has not yet reached that treshold. “ We should go down to the bunkers. There’s probably people there...that can heal this and help you get cleaned up. Are your parents here ? Should we go get them too ? ” And just like that, the list of people whose fate she is still unsure of grows by a few name, the phantom of grief lingering over her head, nudging at an old scarred wound.

[eirajacos-blog]

emoryosanos:

              In Eira’s grasp, the world almost felt a bit less heavy. It’d always been that way–it was why he’d decided he’d be okay with, if not lucky to be, marrying her. Now, though, her embrace wasn’t enough. It helped him to breathe, sure, but there was still a hole in his gut and an ache in his chest. He knew if he didn’t leave with Eira, the guards would soon usher him away. He knew that would be a much worse fate, to watch his mother be dragged off while in the grips of a palace guard. So, because he loved Eira, he tried to accept that it was best to leave. His grip loosened, his back straightened. You’re going to leave, he tried to convince himself, you have to get up. He repeated it to himself over and over, but he still couldn’t move. 

               Her hand on his cheek almost stung. He could feel the silver paint his face, and the knot in his throat managed to halt his breathing again. For a moment, his eyes doted on her wound. Without the brain power to think much of it, he simply fixed his eyes on it. There was a vague fear that the wound was even worse than it looked, that something could go wrong and he’d lose her too. Emory knew he couldn’t face that future. It almost felt safer to stay in this moment–at least that way he’d never know if the coming weeks would be more painful than right now.

               The second her touch became rough, the second she opened her mouth, Emory knew what was coming. “No, Eira, don’t–” He pleaded with her, but it was no use. The commands slipped out of her mouth with ease, and Emory was completely and utterly under her control. Unable to tear his eyes away from her, he simply nodded. He hadn’t meant to, but he nodded. 

                            “I am going to follow you.”

               If they had more time, if she didn’t feel choked by urgency and fear of what would become of them if they stayed in the midst of the fray, Eira might have taken time to argue with him fair and square, win him over to her side with pointedly chosen statements and soothing words. But she’d chosen the easy way out, coaxing him into action with a show of force rather than tenderness. He might resent her later for it, but at least he’d be alive, and probably better off without someone else, a stranger, dragging his mother’s limp body away from him. She would accept any amount of screaming and icy words if it meant he got to live. He’d forgive her eventually. She didn’t like to think of how she might react otherwise.

               “ That’s right. Good, ” she praised, pulling him forward. Few paid attention to them as they weaved their way through the rubble and unmoving bodies, past fleeing civilians and soldiers trying to bring back order — and if some did, they would have seen a couple getting to safety together. His hands were still firmly clasped in hers, knuckles white with the strength of her grip. Eira felt herself breathe more easily once they were out of the busiest zone ; at the bunkers’ gates, they were let through more than easily, Osanos and Jacos of more than sufficient rank to be ushered into the shelter. Only then did she look away and wait for him to come back to his senses.

               The first words out her mouth when their gazes met were “ I’m sorry. ” It was pitifully laconic, and she hung her head in shame as she waited for a half-expected storm to hit. “ I know you didn’t want me to — but we had to leave. If I could have done otherwise, I would. ”

[eirajacos-blog]

decadentlonging:

The whole world seems to tilt and shiver, trembling under the might of fire and noise and rubble. The crowd’s cheers, deafening before the bombs silenced the whole city in two quick blows, come back in pulses–one moment there is only ringing, the next, hysterical cries cut through the air. The gathering hall is in ruins and Rahul can hardly make out what is happening; every time their vision rights itself, they are buffeted by the fleeing crowd. The ringing in their ears begins to fade slowly, replaced by the unnaturally loud sound of their heartbeat as they begin to comprehend the scene before them, the bodies strewn over cracked marble, the wails of the fallen and the grieving alike. Between heartbeats they can only think of their twin, their better half–Sofiya where are you, Sofiya please hear me, Sofiya be safe–but they cannot seem to bring their feet up from the floor.

They hardly hear their fellow Silver and catch only a glimpse of her before she is throw directly at them by another fleeing victim. Instincts fight within them–shove her away or yank her close, fight for themself or protect them both?–but they cannot twist to break their own fall now, not in midair, so they wrap themself around her instead. It makes the crack as they hit the floor more of a shock, and the pain that immediately radiates out from their shoulder makes them gasp, a ragged sound they would never have allowed past their lips in controlled circumstances.

Their head spins for another moment and they have to fight with what little power they have left over their body not to roll to the side and empty their stomach, but it works, somehow, and their clearing vision shows them curled around Eira Jacos’ form–thankfully still warm, still breathing, though bloodied. They try to move, to sit up or push her away or something, but the action only makes them grunt in pain. Though it made itself very well known with sharp flares of pain, the offending arm did not respond, and in turn they feel an irrational sort of irritation. Couldn’t anything work properly for just long enough to get them out of danger? Glancing down at Eira again, they couldn’t stop a barb from leaving their lips: “If you don’t move you’re going to ruin my suit.” Even as they said it they knew it was unfair, that she is bleeding and likely in just as much pain as they are, if not more.

Action is better than breath wasted on an apology, so instead of saying anything else, they use their working arm and a little mental aid to shove themself to their feet, only releasing Eira when she too could stand. Where before they couldn’t find it within themself to move, now the pain of their shoulder gives them some small amount of clarity. “Let’s go this way,” they offer, taking her arm and pulling her away from the carnage, away from the destruction, into a hallway that hopefully leads them to safety. It’s slow going–they’re favoring their right side and she’s spilling silver with every step she takes–but once they are shielded from the clamor and shock of it all, they stop and lean against the wall, breath heavy from the exertions of a body unused to stress. “You’re hurt,” they state then, their voice giving away just how much of a loss they were at for how to handle anything. Silver, silver everywhere, drenching her dress and dripping to the floor. What can I do to help her at all?

               Eira doesn’t have time to catch her breath before the crowd pushes her forward in its desperate attempts to flee. The tidal wave catches her without a warning, shoving relentlessly, and for a moment she is lost in that chaos of color and deafening noise before she collides with another moving body. She is only half conscious of what happens next— falling, or perhaps tripping, with someone’s weight beneath her. She doesn’t hit the hard ground herself, but there’s an ugly crack the moment she feels the impact rattle through her body, a sound that makes her wince even as she struggles to straighten her spine again. She rubs at her eyes with a bloodstained hand, trying to make sense of her surroundings ; a moment later she’s able to put a name on the newcomer’s face.

               She’s met Rahul Provos before, only a few days after her arrival in Archeon. The clothes she’d been wearing then were perfectly acceptable in the countryside, but she was months if not years late when it came to the capital’s fashion. Still, they remained acquaintances, though she did her best to make that connection friendly on her side of the spectrum. This isn’t a time for pleasantries and niceties, Eira. Etiquette can go to hell ; she just wants to find Emory and get out alive. Simple goal, short and concise, yet her fluttering heart is still unsure as she attempts to pull herself into an upright position, a silver blush rising to her cheeks despite the circumstances at the sharpness of their tone. “ I’m trying ! ” Unfortunately, the wound is still dripping, and by the time she rolls off them and pushes herself off the ground, quite a few more splatters of blood have stained Rahul’s once-spotless suit. 

               Watching them rise, she realizes the snapping sound she’s heard only moments before came from their arm. They must be in more pain than she, but without healers - skin or otherwise -, there is but little she can do. Eira holds on to their working arm with no small amount of gratitude, clutching it perhaps a bit more tightly than necessary. Every step is less balanced than it should be, but they seem to be managing it well enough with their respective wounds. “ We’ve got to find a skin healer for you, ” she insists the moment they stop. Her hands are on her knees, silver still spilling onto her chest. “ Mine can wait. That sort of thing...always bleeds worse than it is, my nana said. ” She shouldn’t be bringing up childhood memories right now, but the words slip out of her mouth before she truly gets to think them through. “ You, on the other hand...I think I could make a brace. Do you want one ? It’s no healer’s work, but it should hold everything into place ‘til we find someone. In...in the bunkers, maybe. ” Is it fear or concern that breaks her voice ? She has no answer for her own inquiry.

[eirajacos-blog]

kassiopeanolle:

“You know what I do need? You. To be okay. You’ve helped me so much Eira just by being safe. Helps me breathe.” She said softly, applying the pressure needed to keep that precious silver substance flowing through Eira the way it ought. Spilling it would be such a waste. Without preamble, Kass checked all the rest of Eira over, knowing how sometimes shock and adrenaline could keep a person from realizing the worst of their injuries until everything calmed down. Eira would be facing no permanent scarring from this. Kassiopea was determined to give her friend that at least.

“I do. I really do.” Kass said, her voice ragged from caring. “So shh and enjoy the ride.” Because Kassiopea was passionate in her loves and her hates, a woman of extremes in so many ways, and Eira had found herself on the former end of the spectrum hardly even trying. “I have plenty of strength to go around, thank you.” Kass did put Eira down in a little alcove out of the way of the panicked people racing through the halls, and she bent a little so she and Eira were eye level. “Listen to me, ok. I know you can help. I do. You’re powerful and strong and kind. You could be very helpful… but if you’re out there with me, I can’t just watch myself. I’d be watching for you too. It’s not because I think you’re weak. I’d do it for Tavvy and Theo and anyone else I care about. I need to know you’re in that bunker and safe. I need to know that if, God forbid, someone were to stage an attack, you’d be out of harm’s way. Do you understand? I will find you later, and I will hold onto you until this is all over, but I need you to let me do my job. Is that ok, Eira? You have to tell me it’s ok, little bird, then let me get you to the bunker.”

               “ ‘m glad. ” Even under these circumstances, the girl managed to crack a smile, holding on to Kassiopea like their surroundings were an ocean and she was her lifeline. The cut still stung, but it was momentarily forgotten at the other girl’s soothing words. “ I want to do more, though, ” she insisted, her finger clasped over Kass’, nudging them aside so she could prove she could hold the scrap of fabric on her own, no matter how small an achievement that was. Despite everything, all the arguing had not gone out of her yet. If anything, she felt like she’d jump out of her skin any moment, her senses overstimulated by the chaos of a scene she wasn’t even sure what to make of yet.

               “ Gotta give me one again. In better circumstances. I’m not...doubting you. Just worried. ” ( She shouldn’t be, given that Kassiopea, unlike her, seemed pretty much unhurt. ) She hated the way her sentences sounded, rattled out through gritted teeth. She hated that her shakiness was probably more due to fear than pain. Shouldn’t she be able to do better, be stronger ? Eira exhaled a sigh of relief when her feet touched solid ground again, though she teetered for a few seconds before making her spine ramrod straight. If her eyes grew resentful for a fraction of a second, the sentiment disappeared as swiftly as it came, leaving behind a mixture of frustration and resignation. “ You’d let Tavvy and Theo stay because they’re soldiers like you. ” Is this really the best time to have this kind of argument ? her brain protested. Still, she bowed her head, lips pressed into a thin line. “ I do understand, but you’ve got to promise me something too. ” Her voice shook less by this point, and her hands reached for Kass’, clasping them once before letting go. “ As soon as it’s okay for me to come out again, you’ve got to do just that and let me help. Please ? ” Her tone held a pleading note, and though she did no such thing as use her power for something as trivial, part of her wished she had the nerve to.

[eirajacos-blog]

emoryosanos:

                 A voice echoed in Emory’s ears, but he couldn’t possibly register what it was saying. He was still hovered over his mother, hands shaking above her limp body, desperately trying to use his power to keep all of her blood inside her wound. He thought that if he kept her from bleeding out, she’d stay alive–but her heart had stopped more than twenty minutes ago. He still couldn’t find the strength to let go, to let the silver wash over her completely. He’d been sitting like that since he’d found her, tears streaming down his face, but his hands unwavering. Even when the life drained from her, he felt it impossible to give up. Of course there would be no miracle, no test of faith that result in her coming back to life. Of course this was it; it was done. Still, he felt it an act of betrayal to leave her. So there he sat, repeating her last words in his head over and over: “Take care of each other,” “take care of each other,” “take care of each other.”

                   Eventually, he couldn’t hold all of the liquid anymore. The voice clawing at his ears diverted his attention, and his power slowly faded. A sea of silver took manifestation from the hole in her gut, where the shrapnel had been. Dropping his hands, Emory crumpled over his mother. He grabbed at her body, pulling her up with him, hugging her close. The mercury that washed out from her veins was still warm, and it made his stomach turn violently. Finally, Eira’s voice broke through the ringing in his ears: “Look at me, Em. We can’t stay.”

                   Slowly, carefully, Emory let his mother’s body slide out of his arms and onto the ground. His hand still clasped onto his mother’s arm, he began to shake his head with more conviction than he’d ever done anything in his life. “I can’t–” He fell silent when she grabbed him by the chin, her touch gentle and loving. When he looked into her eyes, he saw genuine fear and heartbreak–much like his own, but he couldn’t stand seeing the pain mirrored in her. “Please,” she pleaded, and the pain in her voice sent him reeling. Squeezing his eyes shut, he felt fresh tears roaming down his cheeks. Again, he started to shake his head violently, freeing himself from her grasp.

                                    “I can’t leave her.”

               In an absurd glimmer of hope, Eira's fingers fluttered to lady Osanos' throat. It only confirmed what she already knew: there was no pulse beneath her hands, no functioning heart to keep the woman alive. Calling for a skin healer would be of no use, assuming they even managed to find one in the midst of chaos. Silver medics were beyond talented, capable of miracles, but even they could not bring the dead back to life. A sob shook her shoulders, and when she grabbed Emory it was as much an attempt to comfort him as a mean to steady herself. Something seemed to break in him ; some wounds started to bleed while they had not before, and she understood what he'd been trying to do in a flash. Keep her from bleeding out...but it'd been useless, if it couldn't make her heart beat.                The sharp stench of blood filled her nostrils, making her gag. Still, she refused to flinch away, her hands firm on Emory's shoulders until his grip loosened. Eira moved to wipe off his tears, smearing a bit of silver on his cheek as she went ; whether it was his mother's or his or hers, she could not tell. " You have to, " she insisted, panting. " There will be other people, they'll come and take care of her — but it's over, Em, we can't help her anymore, the best thing we can do is go and get to safety, quick. Your mama, she's beyond help. " She was babbling, carefully constructed sentences melting into a panting mess. Oh, she knew grief, but not like this. No one had ever had to drag her screaming away from a loved one's body. No, she'd cried herself into exhaustion every time, and woken up in her own bed with puffy eyes and renewed heartache. She caught his rist again, her fingers clasping it, hold made fierce by both determination and despair. " I'm not giving you a choice. " The words came out less biting than she intended them to be, but she wasted no time making eye contact again, her voice shifting from its shrill, panicked tone to a deeper one, mesmerizing and almost alive. " You're going to keep looking at me, " she instructed, never tearing her gaze away from his even as she blinked through her tears. " And you'll follow me into the bunkers and turn back for nothing and no one. "

[eirajacos-blog]

kassiopeanolle:

Kass had been in a panic trying to find the people she cared about, Theo and Tavvy and Bailey and Eira.  Kass had run back into the scene of the chaos, hoping against hope to find one of them (all of them) alive and well and ready to be taken into the bunkers. Then, like an angel, Eira burst through the smoke and the debris, rushing towards her, “Do I need help? Do I need help? God, Eira, I’m just so glad you’re ok! You… you’re bleeding.”

Kass bent down and tore a piece of fabric from a fallen banner, rushing back to Eira and pressing the fabric against the wound, putting pressure on it and guiding Eira’s hand to it. “Just like that. Press, ok? It doesn’t look too bad, but I want to make sure.” Because her concern had her feeling like she was going a million miles a minute, she bent down and scooped Eira up into her arms, stress furrowing her brow. “I’m going to get you down into the bunkers. Try to calm who you can. Can you do that for me, little bird? Sing for them and help them calm.” She pressed a kiss to her friend’s forehead. “I’m so glad you’re ok.”

               The sight of a familiar face was enough to make tears well at the corners of jer eyes. She reached for Kassiopea, knowing things were bound to be okay. Kass knew her way around situations like this. They'd be fine. Where the infinite amount of trust Eira put in the older had come from, she didn't know exactly, but all she could process right now was that the soldier had seized her hand, pressing it over the bundle of fabric her blood was trying to seep through. " 's fine. It was stupid. Of course you don't need help. " An inappropriate giggle threatened to break through the tight seal of her lips, despite the horror show around them. One more name she could cross off her list. One less person to worry about.                And suddenly she was no longer standing on solid ground ; her feet dangled in nothing but Kass was holding her, carrying her as if she weighed no more than a sack of feathers. " You don't have to do this, " she choked out, but still nestled her head in the crook between the other's shoulder and the curve of her neck. " Should— save your strength. I can walk on my own. There are people...worse off out there...please, I can help. Put me down ! " She resisted the need to squirm out of Kassiopea's arms, knowing she might just hurt herself more badly if she jumped off with no warning. " There are wounded to calm here too. Please, Kass, it's just a cut, I want to go with you. " She may sound like a whiny child, but such concerns were past her now. All she knew was that she could be of some assistance, here or there, and that it miht just be the only way she could get tragedy out of her head.

[eirajacos-blog]

DATE: March the 19th. LOCATION: Gathering Hall. OPEN TO: @emoryosanos

               The whole world had turned gray and red and silver, the very air pierced by shrill screams and orders and sounds her brain couldn’t follow. Both hands still clasped over the cut running along her collarbone, ignoring the sting as best as she could, Eira shouldered her way throuh the crowd, voice getting hoarser with every shout. “ Emory ! Emory ! ” Fear coiled inside her belly, insidious. He was so close to the dais, so close to Orion, so close to the explosion, and she couldn’t let herself imagine the worst scenario possible. Whatever gods are listening, have mercy. She stumbled over her own two feet, the smoke-filled air scraping at her lungs, and a sob built itself in her throat as she spotted Leira’s mane of red hair. Leaving, running, or maybe pulled away ; by the time Eira had rubbed at her eyes to see clearer, the girl was gone. And there was Emory, hunched over a body, the bodice blue and green and stained silver and— Her heart jumped to her throat, or perhaps it simply stopped.                She was reminded of another scene not so long ago, another person sitting next to another still, too still body. Except that that person was her, and she’d clasped her mother’s hands in hers and begged her not to go, not to leave her to fend for herself just yet. The helplessness settled into her gut again this time around, as her mind registered the features she stared at wihout seeing as lady Osanos’. The corpse Emory cradled could not look more different from the dazzling, put-together woman she'd first met only a few months back. A few more stumbling strides and she was next to him, kneeling besides him in the rubble, grasping at his shoulders until her knuckles turned white. She was dimly aware of something warm running down her cheeks and dripping down her chin, but whether it was tears or blood from a cut she had not yet seen, she couldn't tell. " Emory, dearest, we've got to go, we've really got to. I'm— I'm so sorry, but you're not helping her, you've got to come with me. To safety. Please. Look at me, Em. We can't stay. " She wiped her bloody hands on the front of her dress the best she could. Prying Emory's fingers away was an already-lost battle, but she caught his chin, forcing him to stare into her eyes. " Please, " she repeated, the word weighing heavy on her tongue. " Leira's inside already. "

[eirajacos-blog]

emoryosanos:

              Emory stood up straighter with Eira by his side–he always did. He hadn’t known how much her mere presence would comfort him, but now that she was here he could breathe more easily. He hated the uncertainty of this entire situation; he hated not knowing what would happen in the coming weeks, or what was going through Orion’s mind–or if he was safe. There was a possibility that this would ruin the purest friendship he’d ever had, and he hated it. But with Eira here, the future almost felt safer. Even if things went astray, he had her to fall back on. It was a comfort Emory would be eternally grateful for. 

              “Of course I am participating,” Emory spoke quietly, tightening his grip on Eira’s arm just slightly. “I’m just realizing how real it all is–and how little of a chance I have. You would tell me if this was a hopeless venture, would you not? You would tell me if I was just setting myself up for embarrassment?”

               And there it was, all she needed to hear. Eira gave Emory’s forearm a firm squeeze, head tilted towards him. To any onlooker, they must seem like a couple ; she could almost anticipate the whispers once he’d announce his will to participate. They might even expect her to be offended, throw a fit at the news that their betrothal would be called into question. If so, it was one more proof that they did not know her at all. “ You have as good a chance as anyone here, ” she said firmly. “ You heard him, it won’t be all about combat. A lot of it is unknown territory for everyone, and since gender is no longer a handicap— ”

               Her step slowed down a little, teeth worrying at her lower lip. Gods, this was a habit she needed to drop, but how was still a mystery. " Of course I would. " A oause as she looked up to the ceiling, as if searching for an answer she was still throwing words together for. " But I don't think it's hopeless. As I said, you're as likely to win as every other competitor, if not more than some. " Queenstrial training had been about showing off, about a grand display of power with the sole purpose of putting the most powerful heirs possible into the world. As Orion Calore had said, Crownstrial couldn't be more different. " I'll confront anyone who dares make fun of you. " The sentence came out more biting than she'd intended it to be, but Eira still tilted her chin up, offering him another sun-bright smile. " I truly do believe in you, Emory. And if by some twist of fate this doesn't work out — you'll always have me. I promise. "

[thequotejournals]

Raise your words, not voice. It is rain that grows flowers, not thunder.

Rumi  (via chloebenben)

[eirajacos-blog]

DATE: March the 19th. LOCATION: Gathering Hall. OPEN TO: anyone.

               The explosion is a terrible, awful kind of beautiful. The flares billow out then almost seem to curl inwards, unfurling and crawling back like the tide. When the dust settles, Eira tries to pull herself to her feet, realizing ( not without a surge of relief ) that she can still stand. Still, her first steps are as hesitant as a newborn fawn’s, hands grabbing at the air in a desperate attempt to find something to steady herself with. The air reeks of smoke and a sharper, metallic tang she is afraid of sticking a name onto. When she presses at her collarbone and the hem of her dress, her fingers come away coated with something warm and sticky, shimmering silver. 

               She feels haggard but absurdly happy to be alive. And others — oh, gods, she prays with growing horror — aren’t so lucky. Bodies are strewn across the Gathering Hall, bleeding red and silver alike, and she cannot bear to look at them. What if she actually recognizes someone— what will she do then— Eira wants to Sing the world into righteousness, tell them things are going to fix themselves and see it magically happen, but this is no such world. “ Are you okay ? Do you need help ? ” she almost shouts those words across the crowd, biting down on her lower lip right after she speaks them and hurrying towards the silhouette she can barely make out in the general panic. It doesn’t matter who they are or whether she knows them ; right now there is no such difference, simply the border between dead and alive. 

[terminatorsunbak]

I love my sister more than anything in this life I will choose her happiness over mine every time