Fire and Stone - Arrosez
Writing Music: Everything Changes in Time by Madds Buckley
The snow fell on the Shroud, covering up the worn paths of the village. In the summer the paths were the main markers that the place existed, buildings worked cunningly into the trees and foliage as to remain easily hidden from casual observation. In the fall the paths became harder to see as some of the village buildings became easier to see, tucked up against trunks and built into the tree branches far above the forest floor. There were exceptions of course, the plume of smoke rising from the forge in the center of the craftsman’s circle a prime example of that.
It made Rose feel less alone as they wiggled out of Ren’s bedroom window to pull theirself up onto the sod roof that hid his home from view no matter the season. The air was colder than they expected, but it didn’t stop them from climbing up the nearby tree. They went as high as they dared, far higher than most would deem safe, but they knew that the tree wouldn’t drop them. Not one would in this place, it was theirs after all. Balanced on a precariously skinny branch. Rose leaned against the trunk and closed their eyes. Where are you Blaise?
The candles surrounding the outcast Bois de Coeur were snuffed out with a growl of frustration. It should have worked! It was Weitnacht! Blaise knew that Renard always celebrated the holiday in his sentimental way. Cinoix always fussed about it, upset that his Grandson wasn’t more interested in... There was a crash as a candle and holder were thrown against the wall in pure frustration. Pointless! It had all been for nothing! And it was all Renard’s and his damnable twin’s fault. If they had just had the grace to stay dead like they should have then none of this would happen. But oh no, they had to come back and Renard had to go running back to them like a besotted fool. And now the Duramen was dead and he hadn’t been picked as her replacement and when he fixed that oversight the ungrateful wretches called him on it and... It was all so wrong now.
He should be tucked into his bed back at Thistleburrow, sleeping off a pleasant evening of good food, drink, and company at Cinoix’s house with Renard on his arm. And now his Warder wouldn’t come to heel when called all cause of their bitch of a twin. Flames licked up around the broken glass shards and candle, leaving nothing but a faint scattering of ash from the wick behind. The mess disposed of, Blaise stood up and stalked out of the small cave he sanctified for spell work into the larger one he was living out of. Ignoring everything, he strode outside, turning sharply to climb up the hill to look out over the Shroud. He couldn’t say why he wanted to be outside in the chill morning air, maybe to clear his head of the failure? If so, why did he find himself clearing off a rock and sitting on it with his knees pulled up to his chest looking to the east, to home? Instinct had Rose turning to the west, pale eye gleaming as they looked across the bare tree tops of the Shroud. The occasional pine tree stood out against the snow, but most of the branches were like skeletal hands reaching towards the sky, beseeching the sun to come back and give them warmth. They couldn’t see their twin, but Rose knew where he was nonetheless. They could renounce ties of family with the man, but neither of them could undo the ties of birth except in the nothingness of death. It was a fact that Rose depended upon, drawing aether from the sleeping Shroud, trickles here and there as to not disturb the balance. Earth and water gifted what they could at the Bois de Coeur’s call before they turned their attention inwards. It was an easy path to follow. Ren slept below, tangled up in Blaise’s spell work. A touch along the vines of fire burnt, but not enough to dissuade Rose from the hunt. Along the line between Ren and Blaise they sent their awareness, shrouded in stone and sped on by the tide of the Star. A prickle ran up Blaise’s spine as he sat there, moodily staring in the direction of home. No, no longer home, they cast him out. Unwanted, unloved just like his father told him, not in words but by the utter indifference the man had for his son. It was only matched by his mother’s lack of care, both of her children inconvenient mouths to be fed, clothed and little more. Occasionally shown off to her peers whe... Blaise’s ruminations are interrupted, that prickle turning into a full blown wave of panic. He barely summoned up the fiery aether to protect himself from the initial force of Rose’s blow. Fire makes a poor shield though, particularly under the fury of love and water and stone. It fizzles out quickly, leaving the man vulnerable to the remainder of Rose’s attack. It drove into his core relentlessly, trying to wash him away in the tide of rage. Clinging to the trunk of the oak, Rose sank down to their ass on the slim branch, eyes wide and staring as they put everything they had into the attack. The force trickles away as the aether they gathered, and a bit more, is spent. It leaves them panting and shivering up against the tree, tears flowing freely down their cheeks.
By the Three, is it done? No, he lives.
Damnit!! A bell passes before either of the twins move from where they fell, Blaise slowly sitting back up and trying to wipe the dried blood off of his face from the nosebleed he gave himself trying to survive. A mad cackle broke the silence of the woods before Blaise started to mutter to himself, “You failed Rose, you always do. Poor excuse for a Bois de Coeur. You think you could kill me? Fool.” A grunt and he tried to stand, swaying for a moment before falling to his hands and knees, coughing up blood into the snow. He stared at it for a moment then Blaise started to crawl, making it back to his cave to collapse onto his bedroll to sleep.
It’s the constant fussing and pecks from a small blue bird that’s tucked up against Rose’s neck that finally gets them to move. Carefully, they half climb, half slide back down the tree. When they are almost to the bottom, Bloo flies off, down to another window of the house and makes another ruckus, pecking at the glass and screeching until something inside happens.
By the time Rose makes it to the roof of the house Gautier is waiting for them. He catches the exhausted Elezen and then picks them up with minimal effort to carry them silently into the house. He doesn’t bring them to Ren’s room, but to his own and sets them down on his bed. Rose looks around, pushing theirself up to one elbow. “This isn’t..”
“I’ll stay with him, you’re staying here.”, the man interjects, pulling back his hood to expose the horns that jut upwards from above his temples.
“But, I...”
“You’re in no shape to stop him if he tries to go. Why don’t you spend your breath telling me why you aren’t in shape instead of arguing with me.”
Rose huffs and thumps back on the bed, “I attacked Blaise.”
“Did you kill him?”
A long pause before they shake their head.
“Foolish and a wasted opportunity, you should have called for me. We could have done it together.”
Rose bristles slightly, “You couldn’t have helped, not like this.”
A doubtful noise comes from the Green Man, but he doesn’t argue further. “Did you gain anything from this at least?”
Indigent, Rose’s reply snapped back, “He’s hurt, badly.”
“And you're weakened.”
“I’ll recover faster than him.”
“Are you sure?”, the question paired with the lifting of a single, shaggy eyebrow.
“Yes! Damnit! I’m simply tired. I almost killed him. It will take him more than a few days to recover.”
Another grunt, clearly Gautier is not as convinced. “I’ll bring up food and tea.”
“Something for a migraine, please.”
A long suffering sigh and the man nods, “That too. Rest Arrosez, hopefully your right and I’m wrong.”
“I am.”, their reply growled and full of annoyance.
“We’ll see.”
Gautier leaves and Rose grabs the nearest thing, a pillow, and throws it at the door as hard as they can. It barely makes it half the distance before thumping uselessly on the ground. They stare at it for a moment before flopping back on the bed to curl up on their side and sob brokenly.
Failure...