the forestverse is an assortment of short stories & flash fiction that play in a universe centered in and around The Forest. most of these stories are completely independent of each other, those which are not can still be read & enjoyed as standalones. stories sorted in order of me writing them <3
breaking out of darkness, finding it between us instead
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[#FFF363 On Thin Ice]
This prompt has been brought to you by someone who wishes to remain anonymous; thank you very much! Tread carefully now; one wrong move and you'll be in trouble. Just how exactly did you end up in such a precarious situation? What was your goal, what pushed you here? Is it still in your sight while the ice creaks with your every step? And here we are, waiting with bated breath to hear the whole story.
hi ho hello. 545 words, aka boiled-brain-goo, for @flashfictionfridayofficial. went for creating a mood but now it's just dialogue so xD maybe i'll try again another day x)
A handful of moths fought with the naked light of the light bulb. It seemed hopeless. The glass was too strong and impenetrable and Glenn could not help but sigh while watching these dumb critters.
A cracking thunder broke the silence in the warehouse they were hiding in.
"We should abandon our plan", Glenn said, not taking away their eyes from the moths.
Keith scoffed. "Of course you're the first to give up. Can't believe I ever expected anything else."
"I did not say that we should give up."
"Well. Honestly… With Mirko dead and Jenny down, I don't really see any other option but giving up", Miranda admitted and took a deep pull of her cigarette.
Glenn could not help but glancing at Jenny who was still unconscious and fully bandaged up. The memory of all they lost tied their stomach in knots.
"The way I see it," they continued, "we are like those moths. We will keep fighting and fighting against a foe that is ridiculously stronger than us. Untouchable. Invincible. Indomitable—"
"Way of boosting the morale", Miranda grumbled.
"So continuing like this just doesn't make any sense", Glenn said. Let the words settle over the group. Let one more thunder disrupt their thoughts.
"So what are you suggesting then?" Keith asked.
"We need to get a tool that is strong enough to smash the light bulb and then we can fight until death takes either us or them. And I am willing to entertain the thought of us winning, once we created the right circumstances."
"Light bulb", Miranda repeated dryly.
"Well. The light bulb is… A rhetorical choice and stands for the power of our enemies. Obviously."
"And the tool?" Keith asked.
Glenn took a deep breath. "We have been fighting as a group, but our magic is individualistic. If we combine our powers, we can make up for those even who left us—"
"Stop, stop, stop", Miranda interrupted them again. "What you're suggesting is not only dangerous but also forbidden! The power we'd hold would most likely tear us apart and even adding the magic of those who left us… Are you suggesting we just add magic even of those unwilling?"
Miranda's eyes were wild, trained on them.
"Jenny can't fight. But she is the strongest among us. We know that merging powers is cumulative. If we as individuals hold a collective power, we'd be unstoppable."
"What you're suggesting makes sense, but it can't be done", Keith said.
"Can't be done or shouldn't be done?" Glenn looked him in the eyes and found only hesitation.
"What about our integrity?" Miranda asked. "Merging other people's powers with ours… It's undignified. Jenny couldn't even agree to it. Wouldn't we betray our own ethics? Become just like them and stray from the path?" Miranda started to pace, her cigarette forgotten between her fingers.
"The way I see it, we either hold onto our dignity and lose in this fight, or we sacrifice our integrity, ethics, whatever, and be victorious. And honestly, with our friends dead and dying, I do have a preference."
Flashing lights and a booming thunder later, the group had a new plan. A last resort, perhaps, but who cared as long as they were successful?
hi ho hello. 545 words, aka boiled-brain-goo, for @flashfictionfridayofficial. went for creating a mood but now it's just dialogue so xD maybe i'll try again another day x)
A handful of moths fought with the naked light of the light bulb. It seemed hopeless. The glass was too strong and impenetrable and Glenn could not help but sigh while watching these dumb critters.
A cracking thunder broke the silence in the warehouse they were hiding in.
"We should abandon our plan", Glenn said, not taking away their eyes from the moths.
Keith scoffed. "Of course you're the first to give up. Can't believe I ever expected anything else."
"I did not say that we should give up."
"Well. Honestly… With Mirko dead and Jenny down, I don't really see any other option but giving up", Miranda admitted and took a deep pull of her cigarette.
Glenn could not help but glancing at Jenny who was still unconscious and fully bandaged up. The memory of all they lost tied their stomach in knots.
"The way I see it," they continued, "we are like those moths. We will keep fighting and fighting against a foe that is ridiculously stronger than us. Untouchable. Invincible. Indomitable—"
"Way of boosting the morale", Miranda grumbled.
"So continuing like this just doesn't make any sense", Glenn said. Let the words settle over the group. Let one more thunder disrupt their thoughts.
"So what are you suggesting then?" Keith asked.
"We need to get a tool that is strong enough to smash the light bulb and then we can fight until death takes either us or them. And I am willing to entertain the thought of us winning, once we created the right circumstances."
"Light bulb", Miranda repeated dryly.
"Well. The light bulb is… A rhetorical choice and stands for the power of our enemies. Obviously."
"And the tool?" Keith asked.
Glenn took a deep breath. "We have been fighting as a group, but our magic is individualistic. If we combine our powers, we can make up for those even who left us—"
"Stop, stop, stop", Miranda interrupted them again. "What you're suggesting is not only dangerous but also forbidden! The power we'd hold would most likely tear us apart and even adding the magic of those who left us… Are you suggesting we just add magic even of those unwilling?"
Miranda's eyes were wild, trained on them.
"Jenny can't fight. But she is the strongest among us. We know that merging powers is cumulative. If we as individuals hold a collective power, we'd be unstoppable."
"What you're suggesting makes sense, but it can't be done", Keith said.
"Can't be done or shouldn't be done?" Glenn looked him in the eyes and found only hesitation.
"What about our integrity?" Miranda asked. "Merging other people's powers with ours… It's undignified. Jenny couldn't even agree to it. Wouldn't we betray our own ethics? Become just like them and stray from the path?" Miranda started to pace, her cigarette forgotten between her fingers.
"The way I see it, we either hold onto our dignity and lose in this fight, or we sacrifice our integrity, ethics, whatever, and be victorious. And honestly, with our friends dead and dying, I do have a preference."
Flashing lights and a booming thunder later, the group had a new plan. A last resort, perhaps, but who cared as long as they were successful?
hi ho hello. 545 words, aka boiled-brain-goo, for @flashfictionfridayofficial. went for creating a mood but now it's just dialogue so xD maybe i'll try again another day x)
A handful of moths fought with the naked light of the light bulb. It seemed hopeless. The glass was too strong and impenetrable and Glenn could not help but sigh while watching these dumb critters.
A cracking thunder broke the silence in the warehouse they were hiding in.
"We should abandon our plan", Glenn said, not taking away their eyes from the moths.
Keith scoffed. "Of course you're the first to give up. Can't believe I ever expected anything else."
"I did not say that we should give up."
"Well. Honestly… With Mirko dead and Jenny down, I don't really see any other option but giving up", Miranda admitted and took a deep pull of her cigarette.
Glenn could not help but glancing at Jenny who was still unconscious and fully bandaged up. The memory of all they lost tied their stomach in knots.
"The way I see it," they continued, "we are like those moths. We will keep fighting and fighting against a foe that is ridiculously stronger than us. Untouchable. Invincible. Indomitable—"
"Way of boosting the morale", Miranda grumbled.
"So continuing like this just doesn't make any sense", Glenn said. Let the words settle over the group. Let one more thunder disrupt their thoughts.
"So what are you suggesting then?" Keith asked.
"We need to get a tool that is strong enough to smash the light bulb and then we can fight until death takes either us or them. And I am willing to entertain the thought of us winning, once we created the right circumstances."
"Light bulb", Miranda repeated dryly.
"Well. The light bulb is… A rhetorical choice and stands for the power of our enemies. Obviously."
"And the tool?" Keith asked.
Glenn took a deep breath. "We have been fighting as a group, but our magic is individualistic. If we combine our powers, we can make up for those even who left us—"
"Stop, stop, stop", Miranda interrupted them again. "What you're suggesting is not only dangerous but also forbidden! The power we'd hold would most likely tear us apart and even adding the magic of those who left us… Are you suggesting we just add magic even of those unwilling?"
Miranda's eyes were wild, trained on them.
"Jenny can't fight. But she is the strongest among us. We know that merging powers is cumulative. If we as individuals hold a collective power, we'd be unstoppable."
"What you're suggesting makes sense, but it can't be done", Keith said.
"Can't be done or shouldn't be done?" Glenn looked him in the eyes and found only hesitation.
"What about our integrity?" Miranda asked. "Merging other people's powers with ours… It's undignified. Jenny couldn't even agree to it. Wouldn't we betray our own ethics? Become just like them and stray from the path?" Miranda started to pace, her cigarette forgotten between her fingers.
"The way I see it, we either hold onto our dignity and lose in this fight, or we sacrifice our integrity, ethics, whatever, and be victorious. And honestly, with our friends dead and dying, I do have a preference."
Flashing lights and a booming thunder later, the group had a new plan. A last resort, perhaps, but who cared as long as they were successful?
-verse: Off the Rails
Story: The Circadyne Succession
Heads-Up: Swap to Firsen's POV. Continuation of “Heat of the Moment”, where a rivalry for the ages is forged… as well as some very high-powered Dyne users.
–
How dare she. How DARE she!
He had a good mind to out her right there and then, in front of the entire gathering. For using Dyne during a gathering. For using it secretly, without showing her markings. For using it on another noble. A noble that was his friend.
Ohh, she would be in so much trouble. Rightfully deserved.
An itchy, prickling heat crept up Firsen’s back and neck, threatening a spill-over of Dyne. No, not here, not right now. As much as he wanted to humiliate Lixy, he couldn’t snitch on her in his emotionally charged state, lest he embarrass himself in front of the entire Upper Circuit with an uncontrolled Dyne surge.
Lixy’s eyes were locked with his, a desperate, defiant mix of begging and threatening him not to tell. Firsen tore his gaze away. He felt he might manifest laser beams from his eyes if he glared at her any longer.
Instead, he turned his attention to Calire, who still seemed disoriented. He bent down slightly to meet her at eye level. “Do you want water?” he asked.
“Water…” Calire echoed, slipping out of focus once more. The dark purple had stopped spreading across her feathers, but it was taking time to completely dissolve. “I was going… to get it… for her…”
Firsen gently shushed her with a pat on her shoulders, noticing that heads were turning. Fine, if they wanted something to watch, he’d perform.
He raised his voice just a little bit louder. “No, no, you stay here and rest, I’ll get it for you.” He steered her towards one of the unoccupied side chairs and sat her down in it. “I’ll be right back.”
As he slipped back out into the corridor, he was acutely aware of Lixy’s eyes on him. Probably wondering what he was up to and why he hadn’t exposed her.
Well, I’ve got an image to maintain, too. Chase me if you want, princess.
As he poured out a cup of water, he kept half an eye on the silhouettes behind the frosted glass doors. A flustered figure of silk and shadow was approaching. She’d taken the bait.
He waited until Lixy was but four paces from the door before he swung it open with gusto, nearly hitting the Chiro princess in the face. The two of them collided, resulting in half a glass of cold water spilled down Lixy’s silk robes.
Lixy’s shriek of surprise was music to Firsen’s ears.
“Oh! My apologies, princess,” Firsen said, making a show of trying to squeeze water out of the hem of her skirt. He could feel Lixy’s frustration brewing, much to his satisfaction.
“You don’t need to do that, runir,” she replied with equally contrived cordiality, tugging her skirt out of Firsen’s grasp. “It will dry off in time. I was just going to get a glass of water myself.”
No one to fetch it for you anymore, he wondered, or just an excuse to confront me?
“I need to refill this one anyways.” He looked around, as if just realizing that the meeting had stalled. “Sorry. We’ll take this outside. Just, uh… carry on without us.”
Not like he had been there to contribute in the first place. A mix of chuckles and sighs rippled through the room.
Firsen held the door open for Lixy. “After you, princess.”
“So gracious, runir.”
–
The theatrics dropped the moment they made it to the servants’ corridor.
Firsen grabbed Lixy’s arm and pulled her around the corner. He yanked up her sleeve, revealing trace markings still fading from recent Dyne use.
Lixy gasped, slapping Firsen’s hand away. “Rude!”
“Rude? Me?” Firsen scoffed. “Says the one using Dyne under the table. You can’t just hijack people to do your bidding because there’s no one around to get it for you!”
“Isn’t that what servants are for?” Lixy countered. “And you used your Dyne too, don’t try to hide it. It burned me.”
Firsen gaped, his astonishment momentarily overshadowing his outrage. “Calire isn't a servant, she's my friend! And she's Avie nobility.”
That seemed to shut Lixy up for a moment. Finally, she stammered, “W-well how was I supposed to know that?”
“Maybe if you came to any of the courtyard events, you'd know!”
“It isn't like you don't miss things either! Besides, she wasn’t wearing any of the Great House crests–”
“That isn’t the point. The point is to keep your paws off things that aren’t yours!” Firsen snapped, coming almost nose-to-nose with Lixy. The glow of his flare was reflected in her wide eyes.
He winced as a headache speared through his skull. He was overreacting. Overheating. Time to wrap things up.
“For the record, I wasn’t using Dyne, I was just getting rid of yours. Think twice before you try brainwashing someone stronger than you, or you'll get more than a little burn next time.”
Suddenly, the fear in Lixy’s eyes dissolved, replaced by the knowing glint of someone who had just figured something out.
Firsen took a step back, unnerved. “... what?”
((You think you’re stronger than me?))
That was her voice. But her lips hadn’t moved. They were closed. Yet they tugged upwards at the corner into a self-confident smirk as she hummed a low melody.
((You let your guard down, dragonfly.))
Firsen clapped his hands over his ears. “No. No you don't. Stop it.”
((I almost believed you. Your flare burns bright and hot. It’s hard to approach. But you leave yourself so wide open when you're venting.))
“Get OUT.”
He turned his own Dyne on himself, and it was blazing and it burned but he needed her out of his head.
When his vision cleared, he was on the floor, the lingering itch of a Dyne surge still tingling on his skin. Lixy stood above him, her own markings lit up but her flare looking blown out. She held out a hand.
Firsen turned away with a scowl. “No one's around. Don't even bother.”
She tucked her hand back into her sleeves. “You'd better start practicing getting that under control. Or I'll do you a favor and take it from you.”
With that, she turned on her heel and left.
Well, that didn't go as planned.
Though she wasn’t inside his head anymore, she’d gotten under his skin. Which was just about the same thing.
-
1056 words
And that's how it went down. Highly recommend to read last week's entry before this one since they connect immediately ^^
Also if you saw Calire's version here earlier and wondered where it went, I had written two versions but ended up liking this one more but only just now had the internet connection to swap it out (phone browser tumblr is a quagmire).
i.... i need to know more about the Dynes. please tell me about the Dynes. they're a mental power? they can influence other people to do things? there's a backlash too? 👀
Just kidding, I'm not panicked! Glad you enjoyed it! ^^
I am so happy to explain lore and worldbuilding and magic there's just so much of it floating around unorganized that I have to go "wait Skit, we must be Careful and Not Spoilers and Not Text Walls".
Well. Text walls might be a thing. You can't have lore without text walls.
Okay! So!
I do have a little Lore Drop post already [happy link here] - essentially, Dyne is the magic force of their world. It's not really specific to any sort of power; different individuals can use Dyne for different purposes. Mending, lighting fires, powering devices, binding things, making something hot or cold, etc. ... or brainwashing people, yeah, that works too.
Dyne is part of the atmosphere, and it increases in concentration as you go up in altitude. You need bigger Dyne capacity to live in places with higher Dyne saturation, or it'll overload your systems.
The other thing about capacity; bigger Dyne capacity = more abilities you have access to. If you use it.
Some nobles have really big capacities but don't use it. All it does is just let them live at higher altitudes. So they sit there and look shiny. (And maybe fly around, because flying is a level 5 ability and it looks cool and why pass up a chance to show off, y'know?)
On the other hand, you can have a smaller Dyne capacity but use Dyne a lot. You'd be considered a strong user after some time (just living at lower altitudes).
For example, "mending" is a level 3 ability. Someone just starting out could be able to fix small chips and dents. Someone who's done it for their livelihood for years might piece together something that was fully shattered.
-mini break as I reread the question and realize I answered none of it-
Right, yes, Firsen and Lixy's little Dyne dominance dance!
Dominance is a level 5 ability. It's the one that allows them to mess with each other's heads >:)
Generally, it's rude to use dominance over others of equal status (and still even questionable to use it on servants) - that's why there's so many rules about being transparent with using Dyne abilities.
Kids will be kids, though. Lixy and Firsen are from rival houses, and they're both rebels in their own ways. Including how they use their Dyne.
Lixy is from House Melonykas - they're Chiros, the bat-based ones. They actually use dominance the most, with a frequency-based method of putting their targets in a sort of suggestible trance.
[It's called "Tuning", and there are other things they can do beyond that... but that's spoilers for now >v<]
Firsen is from House Streykas (Essents, insect-based)- he hasn't quite unlocked the finer points of dominance yet, but he can override it through brute force (which I think I'm going to call "calcination" - purifying by fire).
Because Firsen has unstable Dyne, though, it's a little uncomfortable and overwhelming for him to spend all at once like that. The backlash shouldn't be that strong for someone of his caliber, but his control could definitely use some work.
[Technically the Essent flavor of dominance is called "Hive"... but those are also spoilers as of now ^^]
Basically, whoever has the stronger Dyne ability can overcome the other's offense/defense.
I'm planning a part three of this rivalry between Lixy and Firsen, and it's an arms race between the two of them to get better at their abilities. Mostly it's Lixy trying to get into Firsen's head, occasionally succeeding, only for Firsen to find a way to shut her out, and now she's having to train harder to top him again.
Needless to say, Firsen gets very good, very fast - because he never wants to lose control to Lixy (or anyone else) ever again.
-takes deep breath-
sorry for the text wall but also thank you for reblogging and getting me to actually sort some of my worldbuilding into words :D
your magic system sounds really cool, i love how the use of Dynes is so fluid and dependent on environmental settings! being a part of nature, it is so out of humanity's hands and then, looking at our real world, we do tend to have nature bow down to our forces. and you have it so woven into your society's structures! the magic system is wholly part of the world building, which is my favourite kind of magic system x)
Firsen and Lixy both seem like two somewhat troubled kids x) i wonder where their journey will take them!
hi ho hello. 545 words, aka boiled-brain-goo, for @flashfictionfridayofficial. went for creating a mood but now it's just dialogue so xD maybe i'll try again another day x)
A handful of moths fought with the naked light of the light bulb. It seemed hopeless. The glass was too strong and impenetrable and Glenn could not help but sigh while watching these dumb critters.
A cracking thunder broke the silence in the warehouse they were hiding in.
"We should abandon our plan", Glenn said, not taking away their eyes from the moths.
Keith scoffed. "Of course you're the first to give up. Can't believe I ever expected anything else."
"I did not say that we should give up."
"Well. Honestly… With Mirko dead and Jenny down, I don't really see any other option but giving up", Miranda admitted and took a deep pull of her cigarette.
Glenn could not help but glancing at Jenny who was still unconscious and fully bandaged up. The memory of all they lost tied their stomach in knots.
"The way I see it," they continued, "we are like those moths. We will keep fighting and fighting against a foe that is ridiculously stronger than us. Untouchable. Invincible. Indomitable—"
"Way of boosting the morale", Miranda grumbled.
"So continuing like this just doesn't make any sense", Glenn said. Let the words settle over the group. Let one more thunder disrupt their thoughts.
"So what are you suggesting then?" Keith asked.
"We need to get a tool that is strong enough to smash the light bulb and then we can fight until death takes either us or them. And I am willing to entertain the thought of us winning, once we created the right circumstances."
"Light bulb", Miranda repeated dryly.
"Well. The light bulb is… A rhetorical choice and stands for the power of our enemies. Obviously."
"And the tool?" Keith asked.
Glenn took a deep breath. "We have been fighting as a group, but our magic is individualistic. If we combine our powers, we can make up for those even who left us—"
"Stop, stop, stop", Miranda interrupted them again. "What you're suggesting is not only dangerous but also forbidden! The power we'd hold would most likely tear us apart and even adding the magic of those who left us… Are you suggesting we just add magic even of those unwilling?"
Miranda's eyes were wild, trained on them.
"Jenny can't fight. But she is the strongest among us. We know that merging powers is cumulative. If we as individuals hold a collective power, we'd be unstoppable."
"What you're suggesting makes sense, but it can't be done", Keith said.
"Can't be done or shouldn't be done?" Glenn looked him in the eyes and found only hesitation.
"What about our integrity?" Miranda asked. "Merging other people's powers with ours… It's undignified. Jenny couldn't even agree to it. Wouldn't we betray our own ethics? Become just like them and stray from the path?" Miranda started to pace, her cigarette forgotten between her fingers.
"The way I see it, we either hold onto our dignity and lose in this fight, or we sacrifice our integrity, ethics, whatever, and be victorious. And honestly, with our friends dead and dying, I do have a preference."
Flashing lights and a booming thunder later, the group had a new plan. A last resort, perhaps, but who cared as long as they were successful?
-verse: Off the Rails
Story: The Circadyne Succession
Heads-Up: Swap to Firsen's POV. Continuation of “Heat of the Moment”, where a rivalry for the ages is forged… as well as some very high-powered Dyne users.
–
How dare she. How DARE she!
He had a good mind to out her right there and then, in front of the entire gathering. For using Dyne during a gathering. For using it secretly, without showing her markings. For using it on another noble. A noble that was his friend.
Ohh, she would be in so much trouble. Rightfully deserved.
An itchy, prickling heat crept up Firsen’s back and neck, threatening a spill-over of Dyne. No, not here, not right now. As much as he wanted to humiliate Lixy, he couldn’t snitch on her in his emotionally charged state, lest he embarrass himself in front of the entire Upper Circuit with an uncontrolled Dyne surge.
Lixy’s eyes were locked with his, a desperate, defiant mix of begging and threatening him not to tell. Firsen tore his gaze away. He felt he might manifest laser beams from his eyes if he glared at her any longer.
Instead, he turned his attention to Calire, who still seemed disoriented. He bent down slightly to meet her at eye level. “Do you want water?” he asked.
“Water…” Calire echoed, slipping out of focus once more. The dark purple had stopped spreading across her feathers, but it was taking time to completely dissolve. “I was going… to get it… for her…”
Firsen gently shushed her with a pat on her shoulders, noticing that heads were turning. Fine, if they wanted something to watch, he’d perform.
He raised his voice just a little bit louder. “No, no, you stay here and rest, I’ll get it for you.” He steered her towards one of the unoccupied side chairs and sat her down in it. “I’ll be right back.”
As he slipped back out into the corridor, he was acutely aware of Lixy’s eyes on him. Probably wondering what he was up to and why he hadn’t exposed her.
Well, I’ve got an image to maintain, too. Chase me if you want, princess.
As he poured out a cup of water, he kept half an eye on the silhouettes behind the frosted glass doors. A flustered figure of silk and shadow was approaching. She’d taken the bait.
He waited until Lixy was but four paces from the door before he swung it open with gusto, nearly hitting the Chiro princess in the face. The two of them collided, resulting in half a glass of cold water spilled down Lixy’s silk robes.
Lixy’s shriek of surprise was music to Firsen’s ears.
“Oh! My apologies, princess,” Firsen said, making a show of trying to squeeze water out of the hem of her skirt. He could feel Lixy’s frustration brewing, much to his satisfaction.
“You don’t need to do that, runir,” she replied with equally contrived cordiality, tugging her skirt out of Firsen’s grasp. “It will dry off in time. I was just going to get a glass of water myself.”
No one to fetch it for you anymore, he wondered, or just an excuse to confront me?
“I need to refill this one anyways.” He looked around, as if just realizing that the meeting had stalled. “Sorry. We’ll take this outside. Just, uh… carry on without us.”
Not like he had been there to contribute in the first place. A mix of chuckles and sighs rippled through the room.
Firsen held the door open for Lixy. “After you, princess.”
“So gracious, runir.”
–
The theatrics dropped the moment they made it to the servants’ corridor.
Firsen grabbed Lixy’s arm and pulled her around the corner. He yanked up her sleeve, revealing trace markings still fading from recent Dyne use.
Lixy gasped, slapping Firsen’s hand away. “Rude!”
“Rude? Me?” Firsen scoffed. “Says the one using Dyne under the table. You can’t just hijack people to do your bidding because there’s no one around to get it for you!”
“Isn’t that what servants are for?” Lixy countered. “And you used your Dyne too, don’t try to hide it. It burned me.”
Firsen gaped, his astonishment momentarily overshadowing his outrage. “Calire isn't a servant, she's my friend! And she's Avie nobility.”
That seemed to shut Lixy up for a moment. Finally, she stammered, “W-well how was I supposed to know that?”
“Maybe if you came to any of the courtyard events, you'd know!”
“It isn't like you don't miss things either! Besides, she wasn’t wearing any of the Great House crests–”
“That isn’t the point. The point is to keep your paws off things that aren’t yours!” Firsen snapped, coming almost nose-to-nose with Lixy. The glow of his flare was reflected in her wide eyes.
He winced as a headache speared through his skull. He was overreacting. Overheating. Time to wrap things up.
“For the record, I wasn’t using Dyne, I was just getting rid of yours. Think twice before you try brainwashing someone stronger than you, or you'll get more than a little burn next time.”
Suddenly, the fear in Lixy’s eyes dissolved, replaced by the knowing glint of someone who had just figured something out.
Firsen took a step back, unnerved. “... what?”
((You think you’re stronger than me?))
That was her voice. But her lips hadn’t moved. They were closed. Yet they tugged upwards at the corner into a self-confident smirk as she hummed a low melody.
((You let your guard down, dragonfly.))
Firsen clapped his hands over his ears. “No. No you don't. Stop it.”
((I almost believed you. Your flare burns bright and hot. It’s hard to approach. But you leave yourself so wide open when you're venting.))
“Get OUT.”
He turned his own Dyne on himself, and it was blazing and it burned but he needed her out of his head.
When his vision cleared, he was on the floor, the lingering itch of a Dyne surge still tingling on his skin. Lixy stood above him, her own markings lit up but her flare looking blown out. She held out a hand.
Firsen turned away with a scowl. “No one's around. Don't even bother.”
She tucked her hand back into her sleeves. “You'd better start practicing getting that under control. Or I'll do you a favor and take it from you.”
With that, she turned on her heel and left.
Well, that didn't go as planned.
Though she wasn’t inside his head anymore, she’d gotten under his skin. Which was just about the same thing.
-
1056 words
And that's how it went down. Highly recommend to read last week's entry before this one since they connect immediately ^^
Also if you saw Calire's version here earlier and wondered where it went, I had written two versions but ended up liking this one more but only just now had the internet connection to swap it out (phone browser tumblr is a quagmire).
i.... i need to know more about the Dynes. please tell me about the Dynes. they're a mental power? they can influence other people to do things? there's a backlash too? 👀
Been thinking today about where some of the wires get crossed when aro and/or ace people talk about wanting more low-to-no romance stories and other, allo queer folks get mad at us for it--because while some of it is just plain hatred of aspec folks, I'm absolutely willing to consider that some of it is more unintentional lateral striking out--and I think I'm stumbling into something I want to articulate. Not that it's an entirely new thought, or even something I've never considered before, but something I haven't quite framed this way in the past.
Because, like, okay. It's 2026. There's rising queerphobia of all stripes--which is undeniably one reason I'm thinking about the lateral violence of it all, and we'll circle back to that--but the media environment of today does still makes it more possible than ever before to find and enjoy queer fiction. And this is critical to what I'm about to say next, so I hope those of us that grew up in times where that was not true can sort of table our thoughts on what things were like when we were kids.
My point it, if I'm an adult who isn't in the closet (and even if I am in the closet, plausible deniability is higher than it was pre-2010 or so!), I can go see a gay movie. I can go buy a gay book. There are members of the community, like kids/teens or people in unsafe situations that might not have that freedom, but at the very least, finding the gay media isn't the hard part for anyone. Heated Rivalry is one of the biggest TV shows of the year (and the books that it's based off have since seen a huge jump in popularity, too), queer romantasy is flourishing, and even classic queer media is getting revamped (pun intended) in series like the Interview With the Vampire TV series. And if, for whatever reason, none of the current professional stuff is doing it for you, Ao3 has approximately 8.4 million M/M stories and 1.7 F/F stories--which isn't the greatest ratio for the femslash fans, but is still nothing to sneeze at. And that's not even getting into the many gay podcasts and audio dramas, self-published books, comics (indie and otherwise), and other, nicher options. Long story short, if you only want to watch, read, or listen to media with prominent gay characters in it, you can establish a very healthy media diet, with everything from fun, trashy romance to acclaimed TV miniseries to weird podcasts to RPG actual plays, and everything in-between. This has very much not always been the case, so it's really cool we're here!
As an aro/ace person I... can't do that with stories about people like me. Like I really, seriously can't do that. I guess if I was content to enjoy less media, maybe, but I love stories, which I'm sure a lot of people on this website can relate to. And I love participating in fandom, too, so sometimes I do want to be into something that's big enough for me to chat about it with other people, or get more than a handful of kudos on my fanfic. So at the end of the day I don't limit myself, and that's honestly a good thing! It's great to be into things about characters who don't exactly share your identities, too.
But like. This year I've bought* exactly one book with an actual, canonically aro and/or ace character in it--the short story collection Tales From the Folly, which is a part of the Rivers of London series and features the aro/ace character Thomas Nightingale. (*I say bought, because I'm yet to actually read it--I'm sorry, Thomas!). That's it. I've enjoyed various other stories, but as far as ones with people like me go, I've gotten my hands on exactly one. And it's not for a lack of trying! There just... hasn't been much on my radar. This is a huge reason I've gotten so excited about Project Hail Mary recently--it doesn't have any canonically queer characters, and the original author definitely didn't intend to write the main character in a way that resonated with so many aro/aces. But it's a story without any canonical romance of any kind, where as a result, I can watch a fun movie and pretend for a little bit that Ryland Grace is like me. There are so few aro/ace characters that most of what we get. Playing pretend.
This is where I think some of the wires are getting crossed. When people hear someone like me say "I'm really exhausted by all the emphasis on romance and shipping in fandom," I think what some of you are hearing--because it's historically been true, and we're at a scary time in the world where it feels more and more like it's threatening to become true again--is "I want there to be fewer gay stories." When what I'm really saying is "I want there to be more aro/ace stories--or at least stories where I can pretend the main character is like me." And to even further hamper understanding, when aro and/or ace folks say we want stories about people like us and we hear other, allo queers object, what we aspecs often hear is "I think people like you aren't worth telling stories about"--even though many of you have valid reasons for liking the stories that you do, too.
I think that those of us who belong to older generations (especially millennials and above) can all probably relate to what aspecs are experiencing here on some level. There was a point in time where gay books were extremely limited, and gay characters in TV and movies were unheard of. Even as things crept in a more progressive direction, the Bury Your Gays tropes meant not everyone could enjoy the stories those characters showed up in. That was really hard for a lot of people, and I never, ever want us to go back to that. But I do think it's important to acknowledge that gay media just isn't at that point right now. Media with actual aro/ace characters in it.... kind of still is. It's different, because society is in a very different place, and also cishet people have historically demonized aromantic and asexual people with very different tropes--the heartless villain incapable of love, the cold lover that the protagonist abandons to be happy with someone else, the boring stuck-up prude, etc. And there are people, especially in the indie sphere, who are making some good stuff. But at the end of the day, I have a lot fewer choices than you do. Which is why it really hurts to get told that my headcanons and readings of canon--which are most of what I have--are actually problematic.
Anyway. None of this is groundbreaking. It's been said before, by people more eloquent and more persuasive than me, and it'll probably be said again. It just feels worth reiterating, considering some of the blowback I've been getting to expressing this sentiment. Because I really do think a lot of us want the same thing--for everyone to be able to enjoy whatever kind of stories they like most about people like them. (Without losing sight of the fact that media can be a great way to understand the experiences of people of other experiences, of course). When the scales are so unequally weighted, however, it gets really messy to talk about.
So instead of projecting our own fears and insecurities onto each other and letting them dominate the conversation--let's actually talk about it.
Pulling these tags out because I think they further articulate some of the points I was trying to make here really well:
#There definitely is a suspicion and resentment towards the idea that stories with No Romance are valuable#because many many people hear ‘there shouldn’t be all this gay shit’#And then they treat you like that’s what you said#Treating stories without romance—or with main ace and aro characters—as a cowardly in-between step#between Straight Media and Gay Media#as if they just weren’t brave enough to make it Actually Gay#rather than welcoming it as something with real value in itself#And yeah it comes from real fear because there ARE a lot of conservatives in the world saying there shouldn’t be all this gay shit#but then there are people who treat this as the ONLY thing anybody is saying so anything that reminds them even a little bit of that#is suspicious. And a lot of those people haven’t fully shaken off the 2014 attitude that aces and aros are Just Straight People Really#It’s rooted in real fear but then it turns into uncalled-for viciousness about their fellow queer people who are Being Queer Wrong#I also think… there’s a lot of fear that someone who is very similar to you but reached a different conclusion is Judging You#by a lot of people self conscious about their place in society#That causes a Lot of the lateral cruelty between ace people and gay people (via @specialagentartemis)
phew this is a long one! roughly 5400 words of plotless hints of angst & fluff. this belongs to the forest verse because i said so and also because The Forest is capitalized. i don't think this needs any strong content warnings except for the mc experiencing amatonormativity. this is not a romance, but it is also not not a romance. it's a secret third thing, i hope you enjoy <3
Nora loves The Green Swan. The inn is like a second home to her. No, scratch that. It is her home. The place that feeds her the same job endlessly and endlessly fills her pockets with coin ready for her to spend. A space filled with all kinds of figures, one or two nobles who lost their way, and some overeager youth, hoping to gain glory in The Forest, though they’d be the first ones to find it. Mages, dwarfs, elves or even nymphs — The Green Swan has seen it all.
Nora luxuriates in the stale air that smells like tobacco and ale, some kind of oil that is used to wipe the tables down. And the air is filled with a song.
“I’ll be your lime tree, and you'll dance, dance, dance around me.”
In the corner next to the bar sits Foline. She wears a long, flowing skirt, a blouse adorned with stones that shimmer slightly in the golden candlelight. It must be heavy, Nora thinks. It is hard to believe that Foline could sing in it. She lets her voice fill out every crook of The Green Swan, even while sitting down, as if it took no skill whatsoever. As if her voice isn’t so beautiful that kings and queens should be honoured to hear it.
There are many rumours about Foline. Nora doesn’t know if any of them are true; has never even considered asking. All she knows is that Foline has been singing in the inn long before Nora settled down there and that Foline has some sort of agreement with Rolf, the owner and barkeeper. Foline sings, attracts a crowd, gets good coin, and that way The Green Swan gets more than the lousy clientele that is just here for a last stop before entering The Forest.
But that agreement also opens a whole bag of questions and that bag has rumours written on it in big fat letters.
Some say that Foline is a daughter with siren blood. That her voice entrances people. That her human side is merciful enough to sing far off the civilisation. (Her teeth would certainly be sharp enough!) Yet some say that a wealthy lord from some city fell for her and hunted her in hopes to lock her away, so she had to flee. And certainly, she has never made or accepted advances from the men in the inn. (Or from any person, now that Nora thinks about it.) And that would also be the base of the last popular rumour: that she fled from a broken heart instead.
But what is truly remarkable is not the rumour, it is the fact. And fact is that she sings well enough not only to raise the weary travelers’ spirits and hold them longer at the bar, no. She sings well enough that people travel to the inn purely to listen to her sing. She’s not that famous that the inn gets overrun; it’s too far out here for that. But if one is close enough, then a visit to The Green Swan is mandatory. So why, of all places, would Foline decide to settle down in an — admittedly not that shabby anymore — inn if the whole world would pay for her voice? Especially since she still calls herself a bard! One would think that Foline would travel the land to sing in every castle instead. Why pick an inn so far off any bigger city and so close to The Forest where the crowd consisted largely of people either preparing for or recuperating from an adventure?
Nora doesn’t know and she doesn’t need to. Foline and Nora may have started out as colleagues, but with time have become close friends. So if Foline hasn’t felt the need to share her story, then Nora won’t ask. Besides, Nora could also work in bigger cities if she wanted. Everyone could. Big cities are full of good and bad jobs that pay well enough to make it, or so they say. Why move there when she could use her skills all the way out here? Every treasure chest adventurers bring back from The Forest holds a new surprise (though never real treasure) and while picking the locks, Nora can listen to Foline.
Just now she finishes the last lines of her song, some ballad about unrequited love — perhaps the rumours about the heartbreak hold true after all — and Nora watches some people pass her coin and compliments. Foline laughs at some of them, even in laughter her voice sounds like music, and then their eyes meet. Nora winks and relishes in the smile she’s gifted in return. She loves the easy camaraderie between them. Loves the privilege of being Foline’s friend.
A man then walks over to Nora, a little box with a comically big lock on it in hand. For a while, Nora is distracted, simply letting Foline’s songs wash over her while she lets her own fingers dance over the lock for mere seconds before it jumps open. Nora holds out her hand.
“Just five ducats today”, she says.
“Five? This is a tiny box! How could such a small job be worth so much? I say two ducates at most!”
“Five ducats or the box stays with me”, Nora replies and allows a smirk.
“Three!”
“Four.”
“Deal!”
The man drops the coin in her hand and walks away excitedly to open the box at his table.
Nora looks at the freshly pressed coin, the nice spark it has. She’s had great fun earning it, to haggle and to strike deals as big and as small as they could get. So the spark must be enough. It’s been a few lucrative years and that must be enough! Easy and fun spark to spend in an instant. It absolutely does not feel like enough.
It’s not the first time her thoughts have taken this path. She lets out a weary sigh.
“S’matter?” Rolf asks behind the bar.
Nora has a quick internal debate about honesty only to arrive at a compromise.
“Nothing truly. I just keep thinking…”
What, truly, has she been thinking? Her gaze flicks to Foline, briefly.
“Eh? Nora?” Rolf sets down the pitcher he was wiping.
“Ugh, I don’t know. Isn’t there more to life?”
Rolf raises an eyebrow. It feels a bit mocking.
She sighs once more. “I feel restless, Rolf. Unfulfilled. Perhaps it’s time for me to find a new path?” She says it with a solid smile.
“New path?”
“Yeah, I mean. I’m still young! Young enough at least. There must be more for me to explore. More experiences that I can’t find here?”
Rolf looks up at her, pipe hanging in his mouth, and stops mid-motion.
“Girl, you talkin’ about leaving?”
Nora just shrugs. Doesn’t trust her voice entirely. Rolf just shakes his head, although not meanly. He keeps mumbling for a while until it’s time to break up a brawl in some corner.
Later, she lies in her bed and stares at the ceiling. There’s a new moon so her tiny room is dipped in ink-black darkness. It’s not enough to take her mind off Rolf’s questions. She doesn’t want to leave per se, but she also feels like something is missing. Something she longs for and if it hasn’t turned up in the odd years she spent in The Green Swan, then what is she still doing there? Travelling is part of life! If she were honest with herself, she would admit that the only thing that kept her from embarking on a new journey is the people. Without her friends, she would already be long gone. But when she imagines traveling, she does so alone. Then she thinks of Foline singing at the bar, concertina in her hands and the longing aches in her chest enough to stop her pondering.
Though not tonight. Tonight, the darkness offers a plethora of adventures and worlds for her to discover. Nora can’t help but smile, eyes closed, enjoying the idea. She wouldn’t even leave forever, right? Visiting is a concept that exists! Rolf seemed a bit surprised and reluctant to her idea, and that’s fair. She has been a part of his staff in some way. But there are more people who are good at locks. The adventurers don’t need her; they just need a locksmith with the skill to open up even those treasure chests that don’t want to budge for the common magic trick or enchanted key.
The more she thinks about it, the more secure she feels in her assessment. Until her thoughts turn into dreams.
Falling asleep so late, Nora stumbles awake late into the morning, close to noon. Despite the bad sleep, she feels energetic. The decision feels fresh and good and she can’t wait to plan her own adventure. First she’ll have to tell everyone and then she’ll have to find someone to take over her very unofficial job and start to pack — would she be able to keep her room? Not without paying for it and that just seems like a waste. So she might have to sell some things or find a place to store them at least.
Nora is so deep in thoughts that she doesn’t notice the weird atmosphere down in the bar at first. It’s only when she sits down and the new boy working in the kitchen (Mark, Erec — Gavin?) brings her her favourite kind of oatmeal with flushed cheeks. There’s an apple slice, cut into the shape of a heart on her oatmeal. Weird. But cute. Weird enough for her to look up.
Rolf looks at her, smiles brightly in a way that’s nearly uncanny. Nora offers a polite smile in return and then she notices that a lot of people keep looking in her direction with smiles on their faces. Some even smirk. One lady who’s been staying for two weeks now even gives her thumbs up.
Nora’s good mood vanishes instantly.
She looks down at the carefully cut-out apple slice.
Doesn’t dare look up again to the surrounding people who have long finished their breakfasts and have nothing better to do than stare at her, apparently.
Nora isn’t that dense. It must be some reaction to what she told Rolf the day before. Clearly he told everyone after she left to go to bed, so now everyone tries to show her a good time. Maybe they hope that she’ll stay. It’s a kind gesture. A compliment. Nora picks up the spoon and starts eating. She tries to swallow down the ugly ungratefulness with every bite. The gesture was born out of good intentions. It won’t change her mind, but she can still appreciate it, right? The ugly part of her stomps her feet and demands that her friends and colleagues be excited with her and wish her well on her upcoming travels, but to be fair: she’s had the whole night to contemplate it, and the others haven’t heard her reasoning yet. Only Rolf’s perspective.
Still.
The oatmeal tastes like dust. Dust with a pinch of love. Nora swallows.
“I heard you’ve become restless”, a soothing voice greets her.
Nora feels her shoulders relax and the smile that spreads on her face comes up completely involuntarily. Foline looks beautiful. The half of her dark brown hair is pinned up, her dark eyes crinkle at the corners. And her dress fits her oh-so-nicely. She’s stunning.
“Not become”, Nora answers, “it’s been like this for a while. Just the first time I dared speaking it out loud.”
“Oh.” Foline’s smile falters for a second. “I thought you’re happy here.”
“I am! I am, just. I think I could be happier? I am not sure. So why not try it? Why would I be satisfied with ‘maybe’s’?”
Foline’s brows crinkle a bit. “I guess I’ve never thought about it that way.” But then she remains sitting next to her. She does not look up. Instead she appears to be deep in thought and Nora accepts that. The thought will grow on her with time!
“Then you’ll leave me, too”, Foline murmurs.
“You could join me.” Nora doesn’t know what made her say it, but it sounds like a fun idea!
Foline tilts her head. “I’ve travelled a lot in my life. I don’t think I’m made for it anymore.”
“Then I’ll write! And visit! And perhaps I’ll get tired of the world in a few months and return.”
Foline smiles, though it does not reach her eyes this time. “Yeah. I’ll count on it.”
“I knew you’d understand”, Nora says and puts her hand on Foline’s.
“Nora, I’ll… I’ll miss you terribly. And I cannot decide if I want you to find what you’re looking for out there or return again after a few weeks.” And then with a crack in her voice, Foline says, “Most certainly, I wish you safe travels. Ignore the others today, Rolf riled them up.” Only to get up and leave up the stairs and, presumably, into her room.
Nora stares after her, mouth agape, and more confused than before. That was just weird and worrying. Should she go after her? Or not, after all Foline has left for a reason. Before she can overthink it, the new kitchen boy comes back to collect her dishes.
“Has Foline left?” he asks.
“Just now- I…”
“She’s very beautiful today, isn’t she?”
What?
“What? I mean, yes, of course. She’s always beautiful”, Nora answers. Her hands tremble. This day is not going at all the way she expected it to and every interaction leaves her more unsettled. Something is going on and for the first time in her life, Nora is not eager to unveil the mystery. No, something has shaken her to the bones and in all her narrow spaces it echoes with a dull pressure. I’ll miss you terribly.
Does Foline think that she would not be missed in return? Surely she has to know how much Nora cares about her! Why else would she write, why else would she visit? Even now she longs for her sweet voice, her lovely songs, her beautiful complexion and kind words before they part at night to go to sleep in their rooms. Perhaps it can be said that without Foline, Nora wouldn’t have stayed longer than a month in The Green Swan. But in the end, they are their own people and caring could not dictate the rest of Nora’s life. And leaving would not diminish her caring.
The day slowly passes like this: more adventurers than ever before ask for her services, leaving her no time at all to plan her departure, to think about where she would travel to first. While her fingers are busy picking locks and analysing cryptic artifacts, her mind is preoccupied by Foline. Nora makes one mistake after the other, her mouth filled with apologies. And still, everyone is kind to her. They try to chit-chat, ask her about her skills, ideally, or her heart.
“My heart is fine”, Nora answers with a smile.
“But it could be better, no? It must get lonely all alone.”
“... But I am not alone?”
And even if she were, she would not be lonely. She likes being alone! Sure, Nora has no partner in that sense. And why would she? She’s content the way she is. What would she even need a partner for? Her friends are all around her. They give her everything she needs and certainly will continue to do so even if they could only communicate via letters for a while.
Her client, a young looking elf, looks at her with a look of bewilderment but snaps back to friendly eyes with the snap of the lock opening. He leaves and when Nora looks up, dusk has already fallen and the first candles are being lit.
Foline has returned with her concertina and starts to sing in her corner of the inn again. Her song today is the same ballad she sings every night. Though, usually, she sings it quite late, when most have long gone to bed and only the few trusted and lonely remain down at the bar. During the busy hours, she stays with the classic folk songs and stories. As busy as it has been just a moment ago, she manages to captivate them with her lovely voice as easily.
“Though your heart is yours while mine is free, don’t let it be an obligation”, she sings. “I still dream about being your lime tree, and you my white carnation. O, what would I give for you to dance, to dance, dance around me.”
The familiar lines help Nora to relax her shoulders. The day has been hard despite the friendliness shown to her, and she cannot shake the feeling that it is a set-up. More so, she is certain that the clients and the nice chatter have been set-up. Ridiculous, perhaps. Whether orchestrated by Rolf and the others, or her own paranoia born out of restless weariness, she feels deeply hurt by the feeling. It is unsettling. The thought that her friends whom she trusted try to keep her here, but would not directly ask her to. By sending more clients her way — we need you here. By asking after her heart — don’t you love us? Thinking back on it, there were a lot of friendly questions about her love-life.
Never has Nora doubted her heart. There have been past dalliances, one person or the other to go to bed with. It is a part of her, helped to shape her self, her sense of identity. But never. Never has she felt as alienated as this. A foreboding shiver runs down her back. For the first time in her life, her fingers feel a bit tired.
“Been busy today, huh?” Rolf says and puts down a pitcher in front of her.
Should she ask him about it? It would be right, no? After all, if her hunch is correct, then he must’ve been the initiator. But any words are stuck in her gut. Swallowed down long ago with heart-shaped apple slices.
“But our lovely Foline is here to brighten all our moods, warm all our hearts, no?”
Too much is too much. Without saying a word, Nora gets up and leaves for her small room. She’ll start packing today, nothing and no one will stop her. Her belongings that she wouldn’t be able to take with her? Whatever. Either Rolf will leave everything as it is or sell it himself. Her skills are good enough to get her going without reserves. It would be fine. It’s a few days to the next village, from where she can send letters to The Green Swan and explain her departure, say her goodbyes.
Nora does not bother to walk the stairs up to her room lightly. Every stomp gives her the feeling that she could shake this… This feeling in her chest. Something hot that puts pressure behind her eyes, closes up her throat and makes her want to— to throw things. To yell. To cry like a tiny kid that was promised candy and didn’t get. And isn’t she just as childish? What is there to cry about? Her friends try to show her that they appreciate her, that they want her, need her here in their shared home. But Nora doesn’t want to be needed like this.
She throws the door closed behind her and starts to look for her backpack below her bed. It’s full of dust. The leather feels stiff to her touch. It’ll have to do.
Without a plan or even idea, she places belongings in it. A brush, some clothes to change, her coin purse, paper and pen. A book she finished last week, but she hasn't read the title. She can’t, not with tears clouding her sight. It doesn’t matter either way. This packing is just a place-holder of what she wanted to do, what she had been excited for.
With a scoff that does not sound like a sob, she storms out again. Throws the door, stomps down the stairs. And she doesn’t speak, does not offer farewells as she passes by the people in the inn.
The night greets her with darkness and the lingering coldness of early spring. It’s a balm to her flushed skin. To her left, The Forest looms. To her right, a thin path, road would be a misnomer. Her path from today onward.
And rain. It stops Nora in her tracks. The longing ache in her chest is back, but this time it demands for the muddy path.
A commotion starts inside The Green Swan. At first she dismisses it for the usual brawl, but then it is Foline’s voice of all people that rings through the bar’s evening.
“—to stop it!”
“We just wanted to help!” That’s Rolf.
“I never asked for it! And now look at the result!”
The inn’s front door opens, light spilling out into the dark. Foline steps out, the yellow shine glows and glitters around her.
“Nora!” She closes the door, dips them both in darkness again and crosses the few steps in between. “Nora, please, wait for me!”
And Nora’s heart nearly falls out of her chest. Wait? She had given up on the idea that Foline might join her as soon as she had said no. Instantly, all her visions of travelling include Foline, are brighter, are happier. Somehow, Foline joining her erases her hurt from before in a mere second. Nora feels so light.
“Oh, Nora”, Foline says and raises a hand. “Please do not cry.”
It’s only then that Nora notices her tears. She doesn’t know when she started, but is certain that they are tears of joy, now that Foline is here.
“You’ve come.” Her voice is barely there.
“Of course, I’ve come! Nora, what are you thinking? There is not even the moon in the sky. You can’t even see any stars! Where do you think you’re going in the middle of the night? What about bears, vampire-moths? Or burning bog snakes?”
“It’s not that dangerous. I am not walking into The Forest, just to the next village.” Nora speaks with a huff of laughter, lays her hand on Folines to interweave their fingers.
“But I just don’t understand! Why would you leave in the first place? Must it be now? Do it somewhen else, and if it’s only tomorrow. Come back.”
That’s when Nora’s heart slows down again. She rips her eyes from Foline’s and looks at her with more distance. She truly just followed her out of the inn. She doesn’t have a bag. She’s not even wearing a coat.
“You did not come after me to join me”, Nora says. It’s not a question.
“Join you?” Foline asks with honest confusion and pours salt into Nora’s open wound.
Nora stumbles back. Her cheek feels icy where Foline’s hand has been. She tries to swallow.
“Ah.” She wants so desperately to handle the situation. To explain herself. But if the hurt had been bad in the inn, this is so much worse. This is worse than any hurt she has felt before. “It’s fine. It’s alright, it’s fine. I will just. I think it is better if I go now, actually.”
Gods. She fell for the same plot twice.
Hands close around hers.
“Please, what must I do? I’d give anything. Nora, please.”
“Anything for what?”
“For you to stay.”
Nora takes a deep breath. “I don’t think there is anything.”
“No way to convince you?”
Nora doesn’t answer. She still does not dare to turn around, to look at Foline, afraid of what she would see. She treasures her contact where their hands meet and knows she will now think of it bittersweetly while she’s away. This treasured friend tinged with this sadness.
“I wish you would stay the night, to know you have a safe start to your journey. But the last thing I would want is to let my voice tie you down and let myself be an obligation.”
The warmth leaves her hand and the inn’s door opens and closes again. Then, for quite a while, it’s only the silence of the night. Nora wants to stay true to her decision. The wind blows the rain beneath the inn’s porch and into Nora’s face. The pitter-patter sounds like the rain is laughing at her.
What is Nora doing? Running through the night, through the rain to a village that is days away? When Foline just was here and told her that she loved her? Because that was what she said, no? It was a love confession. Beautiful, talented Foline is in love with her. Foline is the lime tree with its heart-shaped leaves, with love letters pinned to its bark. But Nora is no white carnation. She can and never will be part of a bridal bouquet.
Nora can’t continue walking as the certainty hits her with full force: She has just lost her best friend. Or so she will if she does not turn around.
The inn is eerily silent when Nora enters again, but a quick glance at the guests shows no Foline. Nora hastens upstairs to Foline’s room and only knocks for politeness’s sake.
Foline sits on the ground in front of her bed. Her arms hug her legs while her head rests on her knees. And when she looks up, there are tears now on her cheeks.
“If I am not allowed to cry, then you aren’t either.”
“You are allowed to cry, I just don’t like seeing you sad”, Foline replies.
Nora kneels down in front of her. Thinks about reaching out but does not feel quite ready herself.
“I was not sad. Not completely. There were definitely tears of joy, also.”
“What?” Foline asks with utter confusion.
“When I thought you came after me to join me. I was the happiest I have ever been in my life for a few seconds.”
Nora looks right at Foline, sees how their eyes meet and Foline’s start to clear up with understanding. They go wide, the furrow between her brows flattens.
“Oh”, Foline whispers.
“I— I care for you most deeply”, Nora says and allows for the words to stumble out. “I don’t think I have cared for anyone as much as you before. And I now understand that you might say the same thing about me. But… But if our hearts were cups, and we both have our cups filled to the brim with — with love or caring or, or I don’t know what to call it — for each other, then… Then your cup would simply be full of cherry tea. And mine would be full of water or, ugh. What do I know — chamomile tea? We’d give each other all we have but it would be not the same, it would be different tea! And to many who compare the cups, it simply would not be considered fair.”
The crinkle is back in Foline’s eye corners. For a brief moment, Nora thinks she’s being made fun of, but then Foline tackles her and pulls her into her arms.
“Only you would turn feelings into tea”, she laughs. Not meanly, though. It’s warm laughter, one Nora joins. She enjoys the hug, the way she can feel Foline breathing, her hands on her back softly turning circles.
“Who is comparing?” Foline murmurs. “Hm? Who compares our teas?”
Nora has to take a deep breath. Who, indeed? She spent the whole day around people who seemingly did nothing else. Carefully, she puts enough distance between them to look at Foline again.
“Everyone. Today it felt like everyone.”
“Ah. Yes. When Rolf told me that you would leave, I may have been a bit distressed. My feelings for you are clearly no secret any longer. I am sorry they pressed you about it. Before I came after you, I already gave them my piece of mind for it. I am certain they will apologize to you once they have a chance.”
For a moment, all they hear is the drumming rain hitting the inn’s roof while Foline clearly tries to find the words.
“You are so courageous”, Foline then continues, “while I’ve been hiding behind a song. So let me tell you directly.” Her look grows more serious. It warms Nora’s cheeks. “I love you. I love you in a wholly romantic way, but I also love you as a friend and colleague. I love the way you look, your earnest eyes and loud laughter. I love the way you sometimes pretend that a lock is harder to pick if a client is impolite to you, just so that you can demand more coin. I love the way you roll your eyes at the noble youth with all their naivety and the way you keep helping the wandering souls who seem lonely by just sitting down and chatting with them.”
By the end of it, Nora knows for certain that she’s blushing terribly. But she also feels so soft after knowing she’s been seen like that the entire time. She didn’t know anyone noticed her habit of talking to the old wanderers.
“I cannot not sing about you. It is in my blood. You don’t know how many times I’ve shamefully woken up from a dream in which I compelled you to love me in return with my voice. But that is not what I want. All I want is for you to be happy. And if you are happy by leaving The Green Swan, then I will bear missing you.”
Nora takes Foline’s hand into her own. Lets their fingers intertwine.
“I would miss you a great deal, too”, Nora says. “So come with me. Let’s go on this journey together. You can sing and I will pick enough locks to keep our purses full. I know you dislike travelling, but just for a while! I am sure Rolf will be happy for us, after all he did today.”
“Leave The Green Swan?” Foline asks and looks at the inn behind her. “I don’t know. It is my home.”
“It is mine as well. But a home does not stop being one just because we choose to travel for a while.”
They are quiet for a minute. Nora wants to give Foline enough time to think about it, but she also wants her to say yes.
“I know the inn is also your income. Traveling with me would mean a loss in multiple ways for a while—”
“It’s not that”, Foline says, “If I traded some coin for you, it would be quite the bargain.” She laughs heartily. “Though you’re worth much more than all I’ve ever earned here. No, with you by my side, I’ve lucked out. It’s just that I’ve never thought about leaving before. That’s all.”
“Then we’ll sleep on it and talk it through as long as we need. And if you choose to stay here, keep your roots, then I shall be your rain and never leave you too long. I promise. I never intended to leave that hastily.”
Foline squeezes her hand. “That sounds like a wonderful plan.”
“I just have one more thing to clear up”, Nora confesses.
“What is it?”
“What you said. Does it mean the rumor is true? You’re half-siren?”
“Oh, my dearest friend”, Foline cackles, “There’s barely a rumor about me that isn’t true!” With lightness she stands up and offers a hand that Nora gladly takes. “Let me hold you?”
Nora nods and falls into her arms.
So they spend one more night in The Green Swan, light and settled. They don’t talk about it any more, but find sleep cuddling in Foline’s bed. What the next days will bring, Nora does not know. Perhaps Foline will rewrite some lines of her song (she will). Perhaps Rolf will profusely apologize to her and offer to keep her room ready for her to return to (he will.) But of all things, she is certain of herself. There’s nothing that could go wrong now, she thinks and looks at Foline. Nothing at all.
