June DWC - Day 4
Inadequate/Bond
The quiet tap-tap-tap of Keranna's cane heralded her arrival the way her high heels used to. Pyraelia didn't bother glancing over from her sheet music. Her fingers, flesh and metal, glided along the keys as she played through a particularly complex bridge. They both loved listening to piano, and that alone would allow her cousin to happily wait until she'd finished.
Her walking aid was new, of course. A similar tap-tap-tap of thoughts coming together connected some dots from a story she'd read in the paper earlier that morning. You could name the director of the Magistry Intelligence office. People had a right to know who he was. Everyone else involved still had to be protected. Another agent killed him in self-defense after confronting him with proof of his treachery and betrayal of the Regency. The press was allowed to print that their hero had sustained significant, but not critical, injuries in their confrontation.
It wasn't a secret within their family that Keranna worked for the MI office. Fiorenze had previously worked for MI, but forfeit her security clearances when she left the service, and Pyraelia herself was an Archmage, with all the benefits and terrors that mantle bore. And yes, Keranna was old and could just be using a cane for arthritis or to support an older injury — she'd mentioned being kicked by a hawkstrider in her youth a couple of times in conversations over the years — but why now.
She turned the page, the rasp of it crisp against the otherwise lilting notes. Her ability to avoid a conversation was rapidly diminishing. How long could she hold a fermata? There were a few between where she was and the final note.
Keranna came closer still, patient enough to step only when the clack of her cane would enhance the melody with subtle percussion. That should've been more annoying than endearing, but the older elf had always had a love of music. The Conservatory was proof of that. It had become Pyraelia's favorite place to hide away in the wake of Magister's Terrace. Something was always being created here, and that felt like a balm against the senseless destruction.
The final note lingered in the air as Keranna smiled, "Brava, my dear. You had some deliveries left at your office, I thought it best to bring them to you."
Pyraelia glanced over at the parcel and wildflowers her cousin set on the piano's shoulder and responded with a quiet, "Thank you." And then a more direct, "Did you kill Director Kam'arrin?"
Keranna nudged Pyraelia's calf with her cane and had a seat next to her on the bench as soon as she moved to make enough room, "Yes."
If there was one thing Pyraelia would always appreciate about her, it was her choice to be direct when it mattered. There was trust in that. She closed her eyes and exhaled, letting her shoulders drop a little — in defeat more than relaxation. "You say that with such ease. I still have nightmares about people who died on my watch and this doesn't seem to bother you at all."
"The Terrace debacle was his fault as much as Rommath's," Keranna offered. It wouldn't matter much, but that fact meant something in her blood-stained calculus. "It's something I've been thinking about for a long time. How I would do it. When... I'm glad it wasn't my choice in the end. Making him suffer the way I wanted him to suffer would have changed me."
That wasn't particularly comforting, but it was honest. Pyraelia furrowed her brow and scrunched up her nose as her lips pursed. What she wanted to say was sour, and honesty begat honesty. "I don't think I belong in this family. I'm inadequate compared to you and Fiorenze. You're both so…" What word did she want to use? Decisive? Terrifying? Comfortable with violence?
Keranna was silent for a moment. Her slender fingers found the keys in the upper register and she played the first few chords of a familiar duet many noble girls were taught early in their lessons. Enough to make Pyraelia catch the hint. "Do not ever consider your kindness and gentleness a weakness. Your mother had me raise Fiorenze because she didn't want the lessons a future Queen needed to learn on her conscience. I made her a weapon, the same as I am. Your sister will never forgive me for that, and she's right for it."
That had been the plan all along, for Fiorenze to marry the Prince. It didn't work out that way. Pyraelia put her fingers back on the keys and picked up the tune alongside her cousin. "I didn't know you could play piano, Kera," she said, quietly. "…And it's not like my mother was kind, either."
"She was ruthless. Your father, though, was a lovely soul," Keranna chuckled and matched her note for note, "And I can play many instruments. Mandolin is my favorite and the one I've decided to embrace the most. There's no reason not to learn anything that interests you when you have centuries to do it."
Pyraelia smiled a bit at the sentiment. Learning was her favorite thing, and always would be.
"Take a sabbatical, darling," her cousin continued, crossing one arm over another to move her hand to the higher keys, "You're an Archmage. You may have been born here, but no kingdom commands you. The Magistry wronged you in how the Terrace was handled. It is perfectly fine to want some distance and time to heal."
Why did that feel like quitting? The notion alone made her chest feel tight. Keranna wouldn't say it if it weren't true, though. Not to her. Pyraelia frowned and picked up the short solo meant for her part before answering, "May I have a studio here if I do?"
Keranna leaned and nudged her gently with her shoulder, "You're family, darling. The answer will always be yes."
@daily-writing-challenge // @kharrisdawndancer soft mention for the previous story!
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