Sanguine & Sable

Content archive for the Crimson Compendium // NSFW

[sanguineandsable]

Safiyeh shut her eyes and felt the warming winds on her face. The magic of sunrises over the ocean had grown mundane to her, but the return of summer after each long, brutal winter would always be a welcome friend.

In the waxing light she surveyed the village below and felt a familiar ache in her heart. It seemed another life entirely in which she was a part of that village, unfettered and free to her whims. She had no doubt it was where she belonged, yet there she stood, locked in her tower like some mythical princess.

Hardly a princess, she thought as she panned her gaze to the final wisps of smoke rising up from the fire dying in the brazier. Yet her life seemed to fit that pattern, and she was waiting for her knight in shining armor to break down the door and rescue her from the clutches of an insurmountable evil.

She had been waiting now for some time. The progress was slower than she had hoped, but she trusted that the wheels were still turning, that Tius was still down there working to build the future they both wanted and watching over their star-distant daughter. For now, Safiyeh’s role in that had ended.

On a bad day she might lament the years wasted and wasting. The three of them were only growing older with each slow day. Still, she held to her faith like the sun holds the light: steady, dependable, and there even when hidden. She had spent enough time sighing over ships in the harbor. Her time was coming, and each hour brought it closer. That was her consolation.

Sometimes, when Wesley permitted, she went down to the village, and though under the eyes of his thugs she was never alone, she always had at least a passing smile for Tius as she and Esi carried groceries for her mother and father. Alone in the lighthouse she found her thoughts and her gaze bending unbridled toward his little home and watching the lights in her parents’ windows flare and fade. Some day soon she would truly rejoin their fold. Some day soon this isolation would end. Some day soon her faith would be rewarded. Some day soon. Some day soon.

She looked to the sky again to see the sun glowing through a rent in the morning’s grey clouds. Imagining Tius squinting at the same sun so close to her, she smiled. She closed her hand and imagined his calloused fingers within. She bent her head and imagined his shoulder beneath. Her heart swelled.

The creak of rusted hinges cut her daydream short. Safiyeh turned to see Wesley clambering through the hatch and onto the deck. Balling her hands inside her pockets, she leaned against the parapet in stony silence and watched him dust himself off.

He offered an annoyed “Good morning, Safiyeh.”

“What is it?”

“Ah,” he started with a lopsided smile, laughing under his breath. “You don’t love me at all.”

Safiyeh said nothing.

“You’re still in love with Tius.”

“The only thing worse than your temper is your imagination, Wesley.” She rolled her eyes to the nearby rooftops and bit her cheek.

Producing a folded page from his pocket he countered, “I don’t need imagination when it’s so conveniently put in writing for me.”

“What are you talking about?” she demanded, suddenly striking forth to snatch the page from his hands. He attempted to pull it back, but she was too fast. She opened it to find a letter penned in her father’s hand, addressed to a friend in another village. In it he explained everything—everything Safiyeh had told her parents about her plans with Tius. Reeling with fear, she was silent.

Wesley stepped closer; she stepped back. “What do you think I should do about this?” he asked, a threat on his breath. “Should I have Tius killed? Actually killed, this time?”

She fixed on him a gaze of terror and rage.

He hummed as if in thought. “But when I think about it, I don’t know why I would go to all that trouble.”

“What do you m—”

“It seems to me that you’ve outlived your usefulness.”

Her lip curled. “So what are you going to do about it? Not even you are stupid enough to kill me,” she bristled. “Everyone would know exactly who to look to if I wound up dead.”

With his hands folded neatly behind his back, Wesley donned a placid smile. “As always, Safi, I’m one step ahead of you.”

Though he was much older than her he was still a large man and hale; by comparison, Safiyeh was thin and wiry. He lifted her with ease even as she pitched, clawed, and screamed. Then, as if she were no more than a sack of spoiled potatoes, he flung her from the lighthouse. The loud crack of her body colliding with the jagged rock below cut short her animal scream.

Days later, the village buzzes with gossip and conjecture about why the lighthouse keeper leapt from her post. Most tales involve the return of Tius Vidar: Perhaps he spurned her; perhaps she could not bear the guilt of the affair she had with him; perhaps it was because she knew she could never have him; perhaps it was the stress of being in love with two men.

In the hills beyond the sea’s reach her elderly parents stand before the grave of their only child, the soil still dark and fragrant. Despite the repetitions of all their neighbors they alone know that Safiyeh did not do this to herself, but their assertions are treated with the credence of a madman’s conspiracy theories and the ravings of those too emotional to be rational. An immovable shadow hangs over their home.

Esi Balewa, ever silent, takes to the sea.

@bindingvanagandr

[one-small-garden]

Real names tell you the story of the things they belong to.

Treebeard, The Two Towers (via one-small-garden)

[crimsoncompendiumvol2]

In a white sea of eyes I see one pair that I recognize And I know that I am, I am, I am The luckiest.

Safiyeh and Tius circa ten years ago by @kaiyelablogs! Outrageously well done.

[crimsoncompendiumvol2]

“Didn’t you used to work for the Vidars?”

“I did.”

“Shame what happened.”

Within a margin of error, this was the conversation Safiyeh had been having for the last few weeks. It seemed random to anyone else, but to her, it was careful work, and calculated.

She knew Wesley’s boys would have their eyes on her, so she had to keep her voice down and her senses sharp. Still, the proverbial seeds had to be planted, and to do that she had to find good soil to put them in. There was too much riding on this to leave it to chance.

Once the thought was in their minds they began to discuss it amongst themselves, and when she heard them whispering that familiar name she started making tender little suggestions. Letters to Calpheon, addressed to officials, signed or unsigned. These she tucked surreptitiously away into her pockets until she made the nightly climb to the top of the lighthouse where she sent them off with a messenger bird.

She found herself looking over her shoulder more often than she’d like.

It wasn’t the first time she’d dipped into amateur sleuthing, though back then it was markedly less dangerous. When Tius came around asking to spend a day with Esi, Safiyeh had taken a good long look at him and told him she’d think about it.

It wasn’t a lie. She thought a lot about it—on her solitary walk to the docks.

To some of the boys she feigned flirtations, asking with dreamy eyes what they thought about Tius. Others got a more honest take on her, the slighted mother concerned for her daughter. A few of them saw her in a suggestive light, all clever simpers and low-voiced.

Of course they told her all sorts of lies, whatever they thought she might want to hear, but it was the common threads she took to heart: Mainly, Tius seemed to think poorly of himself.

Safiyeh figured she knew why that was.

[crimsoncompendiumvol2]

Tius’ parents were always kind to me, even after he got cold feet about the baby. Especially then. They always asked about her and made sure I didn’t need anything. I know my own parents were glad for that. We weren’t poor, but children are anything but cheap. I have to imagine they weren’t terribly happy with Tius for leaving me, but he was the heir to their business. They all had more to worry about than me. I was fine, anyway. Just angry.

Then there was his uncle. I’ve never really known Vasad. We just never had all that much to talk about. I had my world—growing up, raising my girl, dating—and he had his, whatever that was. We were polite, nonetheless. I’d wave at him and he’d smile at me. Sometimes I’d let him hold Esi when she was still in swaddling clothes. That alone bonded us. It’s a strange sort of relationship.

By comparison I was much closer to Oskim, the little bastard. I couldn’t go a day without him doing something to get me chasing him down the street. I always beat him up when I caught him, but only a little. Things changed when Esi was born. Oskim quit coming around when Tius did, and I have to admit that I missed our daily bickering. I still do. I miss Oskim, but the way he was before the drugs. The person he is today just makes me sad, but all the same I’m proud of him for trying.

And of course there’s Tius Vidar. I don’t think I’ll ever know what he sees in me. Given, he’s known me all his life and I had his child, but what keeps him coming back? What is it about me that kept him going all those years alone on that island?

He didn’t choose me, at first. Our parents just corralled us together until we learned to coexist, and then when we came of age we just did what came naturally. Then Esi happened. I was terrible to him when he left. No doubt he earned some of that admonition, but I was downright cruel. We were kids. Then I started sleeping around.

Whatever it is, be it as it may. These days he does choose me and he’s been doing it since we were twenty-something years old. No one can love him like I can and I know that goes both ways. I know that man better than anyone else in the world—even Oskim and Vasad. He’s my friend, my lover, and the man who should be my husband. He’s been my bitterest enemy and my most sacred memory. I’ve known him just about every way two people can know one another.

[crimsoncompendiumvol2]

I never met a man so disgusting as Wesley Henson. Fifteen years my elder and doesn’t understand what the word “no” means. Since I had time to go out and date he’s had his eye on me. Makes my fucking skin crawl. I thought after three years of unambiguous denial he’d understand I wasn’t just playing coy with him. Turns out even my engagement to Tius was another little game in his eyes. Fucking creep.

When the news came in that Tius was dead he joined in with all the people offering me their sincere condolences like I was too stupid to know what he was doing. Vulture. I slapped him so hard my hand stung for hours and sent him on his way. I’d rather be a widow to a man I never got to marry than Wesley’s squeeze.

But he saw to that. Sure as hell did. Saw how I was still a satellite to the Vidars and fixed that right up the way he wanted it. Drained all their money coin for coin and backed them all into a corner. Nobody had the means to pay the ransom he asked, so he made me the alternative.

And what the fuck was I supposed to do? Mom and Dad seem to think I should’ve just left it alone. Even if I’d just stayed home with Esi, Vasad would have been there. I’d have always known that I let that man die. A good man. Tius’ blood. Esi had someone she could look to after me. Vasad didn’t.

I went into it thinking Esi could live with us. Told myself I wouldn’t let him separate us. But he did—and it’s a decision I both accept and regret. I miss her every day. I hate that I’m losing time with her. She’s nineteen now and ready to be on her own. Doesn’t need me anymore. But she never had to be exposed to Wesley.

That man has done everything to me he could think of, but I’ve always taken it on the chin. I won’t let him turn me into a victim. Not Safiyeh Balewa. If he thinks he won, he’d better think again. One way or the other, I will see him cut down.

I will marry Tius Vidar.

[crimsoncompendiumvol2]

Esi. Esi Balewa. The greatest accident I’ll ever have. There’s nothing and no one I would give her up for. I think that even as I sit here in Wesley’s house. I have given her up, haven’t I?

I don’t know if what I’m doing is the right thing. Maybe it would have been better to have left Vasad to his fate and stayed where I was always supposed to be. It wouldn’t have been easy, but that’s no excuse.

I know she doesn’t understand. She doesn’t have the full story. There are things she doesn’t need to know right now. Mom and Dad are bringing her up right, making sure she doesn’t think too poorly of me despite what I deserve. I see it, though. Underneath her smiles, she’s angry. Confused. I would be too. Who wouldn’t?

All she has known is loss. Her father came into her life when she was seven and she only knew what she’d heard about him—mostly good things. Then as quickly as he came, he left. Died. She still thinks he’s dead. After that, his parents succumbed to age. More funerals. Shortly thereafter she couldn’t even visit her uncle anymore thanks to the drugs Wesley’s boys sold him. These days he’s sad looking, spent and tired, trying hard just to get by. At least he’s making an honest living. Mom and Dad don’t trust him to be around her, though. Can’t say I blame them.

And then I left her, too. Paid the ransom. Vasad would have been killed if I hadn’t. Years later I still lose sleep wondering whether that was my place. No one else was going to save him, and my parents are far more equipped than I to raise her. That’s what I tell myself, anyway.

How could I protect her from all that? That’s what a mother does, isn’t it? Protect. And I couldn’t. Maybe “didn’t” is more appropriate. I wanted to hold her and shield her from all the sorrows she’s had to endure. But I didn’t. Shame on me.

In spite of all that…Esi has always made me proud. When times are hard she searches for the good; she always looks for redeeming qualities in troublemakers and the downtrodden. Her father must have taught her that. Thank you, Tius. That’s how she’s survived without us.

I know what the fishwives are saying. I can scarcely leave the house without catching snide glares from people who aren’t even remotely involved. They can say what they want. I love my daughter more than anything in this rotten fucking world.

And it’s this world’s fault that I’m not with her right now.

[crimsoncompendiumvol2]

When I was very young I remember hating the color of my skin. Most of the other children were pale, some of them even had freckles. I thought it strange and ugly how dark I was in contrast. I’ll never forget what Dad said. He asked me, “Safi, do you think your mother is ugly?”

“No.”

“What color is her skin?”

“Black.”

“Do you think I’m ugly?”

“No.”

“And what color is my skin?”

“Black.”

Then he smiled, and I eventually smiled back. Since then I’ve been glad to look different than the rest, and I’ve taken pride in my appearance.

When I got pregnant he made sure I knew I’d done wrong, but he never said the word “mistake,” and he never made me feel worse than I had to. He was also more doting during those months than he ever had been. Previously I would have abhorred the idea of walking down the street with him—I thought I was too cool—but he scarcely let me go anywhere on my own, especially after I started to show, and I was grateful for that. The snickering of the other kids meant nothing to me when Dad had his hand on my shoulder.

I’m old enough now to know how much of a blessing he and his wisdom was and continues to be. When there are days I can’t find a reason to get out of bed, I remind myself that it’s what he would do. So I put on some lipstick and crown myself queen, because Dad didn’t raise anything lesser. It’s no wonder Esi is as bold and fearless as she is.

He’s always given me a reason to keep my chin up. Without his guidance I might have grown up meek, but he wanted something different for me. I’m glad he shaped me the way he did.

[sjovris-deactivated20160916]

— Carl Phillips, To Drown in Honey

[crimsoncompendiumvol2]

There was a lot Mom did when I was growing up that I didn’t understand or appreciate, but the older I get the more sense of it I can make. I was mad as hell when she made me follow through on the promise to clean up after the stray cat I begged to take in, but it taught me responsibility. That’s just one small example.

And she was vigilant, too. She was the first one to figure out I was pregnant. She sat me down and asked me if I’d been having sex, and after about an hour she finally wore me down enough to stop lying about it. I thought I knew everything. What did I know?

She took care of me throughout the pregnancy, told me stories about when she was pregnant with me, let me know what to expect, what was normal, what wasn’t. I remember screaming and crying when she wouldn’t let me name the baby something too stupid to mention ever again, but I’m thankful for that every day of my life. She stayed right beside me all during my labor. The midwife joked later that she was surprised I hadn’t broken Mom’s hand from how hard I was squeezing it.

When Esi came I took to her like a fish to water, but instinct doesn’t cover everything. Mom was always right there, taking care of the both of us in turn. She made sure I didn’t get in the habit of saying bad things about Tius within Esi’s earshot. I can’t thank her enough for that. I was too young to understand then, but without Mom I would have forever poisoned the way Esi thought about her father.

I know it wasn’t easy for her—in fact I think she is really brave—to raise me the way she did, and I respect her for it. I know my baby’s in good hands. Probably better than my own.

We communicate more easily now that I’m older. There’s very little we don’t share, even if we run the risk of offending one another. Sometimes she talks about how she regrets leaving her family to be with Dad, though if she had the choice she’d do it again without thinking. When I told her I was going to marry Wesley to pay Vasad’s ransom, she reamed me. I rely on her candor.

I rely on her.

[crimsoncompendiumvol2]

Alive.

In her bed Safiyeh lay awake, eyes wide in the early morning light, heart throbbing hard against her chest. She hadn’t slept a second, but she was far from tired.

Alive.

The word set her on fire. She could feel it stirring in her bones, in her soul. She felt ten years younger, on top of the world. How long had it been since anything had affected her this way? Resigned to dust and solitude for years upon years, she had forgotten what anything else felt like.

Alive.

He was alive. He was here. He was hers.

That didn’t mean she’d forgotten, though. It was not as simple as rebuilding her life and her family now that Tius had come back. But now there was a difference: She no longer felt hopeless, locked up and forgotten like a resigned captive. A shaft of sunlight had broken through the walls.

It would be slow, gruelingly slow, but no matter how long it took or what it cost, she was going to tear down this prison stone for grimy stone. Because he was alive.

I’m alive. And with you, I’m going to end this vicious dominion.

[crimsoncompendiumvol2]

Her parents had spoiled their only daughter, they knew. Safiyeh couldn’t be bothered with the other children her age. She simply wouldn’t tolerate them no matter how much she was forced to socialize. A bit like a house cat, she was: queen of the castle, all other cats be damned. The Vidar child was no different at first, though in Safi’s defense his outburst didn’t do him much credit.

“What’s wrong with your eye?” shouted the boy, leaning forward with perplexity written all over his round face. Her immediate reaction was to bull the heels of her hands against either of his shoulders to send him toppling to the ground, whereupon he took to bawling as only a young child can.

Rueful and apologetic parents intervened to wipe away tears and scold in turn before facing the two children toward one another again with non-negotiable demands that they apologize. Tius more or less willingly offered the olive branch, but Safi only matched it when she realized her father wasn’t going to let her leave until she’d made peace.

It was the first tumultuous day of a long and happy friendship.

That was a memory Safiyeh found herself frequently revisiting, though time had made it somewhat vague. In her teens she told herself it was a sign he’d been an ass all along; when she reached adulthood she thought of it with a chuff and a secret smile. After Tius had been gone for years, she returned to it with longing. There was so little she wouldn’t give to go back and do it all over and so much she would have changed if only she had known how short their time together was going to be.

Regret became her closest bedmate after the reports came in that his ship had been smashed to splinters and his crew reduced to soggy corpses. It took the breath from her lungs to think that Tius—her lifelong friend, the love of her life, the father of her daughter, her end and her beginning—was dead.

They were so close. Thirty years of denial had broken upon fervent confessions of love and plans for a wedding. And then he was gone. Tius Vidar. He had seemed invincible.

There was simply no returning from a bond such as theirs. Safiyeh accepted this. No man nor woman could fill his squandered shape. If there was a way to honor her lost love, she saw to it with reverence and a sense of duty. She stroked her grieving daughter’s hair and provided meals for his mourning family. She told everyone about the man who was larger than life, who brought joy with him wherever he went, who cultivated goodness in this harsh and ugly world.

And when sickness and greed befell the last remainders of his crumbling family, his very blood, Safiyeh wedded pestilence to deliver them.

[crimsoncompendiumvol2]

Safiyeh wasn’t sure why she was still doing this.

Most every night she had free, when Esi was with her father, she’d put on something flirty and find her way to the inn where she’d sit with the travelers and listen to their exaggerated tales. If she found herself fond of one for any reason she’d sling a long leg across his knees beneath the table. She knew a lot more of those sods had to be married than said no, but she reconciled with it by resolutely refusing to think about that.

Three years had passed since Tius had evidently come into his own and decided to claim his position as the then seven-years-old Esi’s father. Safiyeh, having spent nearly all of her teenage years raising the girl, got to sit and watch him have his fun from the side of the bassinet his family had bought her. Now she figured it was only fair for her to take her turn.

By now the novelty of these encounters was quickly wearing off even despite her refusal to admit that to herself. She found herself going out less and less, listening less and less, and drawing her leg up into fewer and fewer laps. Her eyes frequently wandered seaward as her mind meandered back to Tius.

There was no denying it. He’d made a mistake by leaving her when their daughter was born, but he, like Safiyeh, was scarcely more than a child then. And a decade, she knew, is a long time to lie to yourself. She was tired of pining, writhing sleepless in her bed as she wondered where he was. She was sick of overrated nights with insipid strangers. She loved Tius. She had loved him all along.

The truth came thundering down like so many bricks of a monumental wall: cataclysmic, but freeing—not that it was as simple as sashaying out onto the proverbial greener grass. Nothing promised he felt the same. The prospect of his rejection made her feel faint, but if she let that stop her she’d lose even the chance to be with him. That was all Safiyeh had.

A long silence had stretched itself out between her and the sailor whose name she’d already forgotten. The corners of her eyes wrinkled when she offered him a patronizing smile and stood. “Sorry,” she murmured, already heading for the door. “There’s something I have to see to.”

Safiyeh took herself home, changed clothes, and sat watching the streets through open windows. Esi would be home soon, and her father would be with her.