#feyarin

[currentsofdreams]

5. Locked

Feyarin rattled the lock on a chest left stacked against the back wall of an outbuilding near the Ashvane mine.

“Shh” Crystabel hissed, nudging the unconscious guard so that he was out of sight behind the boxes. Feyarin lifted her eyebrows, gesturing at the chest in frustration.

“We need samples,” she whispered. “But there’s no point grabbing the whole box and hauling it if we don’t know what’s in it.” She frowned. “I suppose I could freeze the lock?”

Crystabel shook her head immediately. “If this stuff is as volatile as the powder from the prison, that would be a terrible idea.” Feyarin sighed, spreading her hands and stepping back in an invitation for Crystabel to take over. With a smirk, the huntress produced a set of lock picks—a gift from Kirielle, who had admonished her to only ever use them in dire need. They were certainly quieter than any device her family had managed to produce in service of the same ends.

It took only a moment for the lock to spring. Adding some of the weapons to the sack Feyarin carried took only another moment longer, and then the two were safely sneaking away.

[currentsofdreams]

2. Reward

There were days Kirielle couldn’t get out of bed, knowing that she would have to hobble. Sometimes, on days she managed to get to work, she would have to stumble away from the forge and sit, and remember how to breathe through the pain. Nevermind the lost work. Nevermind the days drifting past in a fog of telling herself it would get better.

And there were days when Feyarin bounced in, so young still despite being grown, whole and healthy and safe. Days when Fey showed off her baking disasters--better all the time--and coaxed a laugh from her guardian. Days she let Kiri forget that the woman who had gone to Northrend had not quite returned. Nights when even Fey ran out of words and simply sat, a comforting presence in what would otherwise have been a set of cold, empty rooms.

And then there were days--The sun light and warm. The breeze gently curling over shallow water, lilies bobbing in its wake. The entirety of Teldrassil alive with the scent of something green and growing as Darnassus blossomed in the spring--And Kiri breathed it all in.

[currentsofdreams]

10. Sweetness

Feyarin pulled a tray from the oven, setting it carefully on the small table. Crystabel leaned forward, eyes narrowed, sniffing cautiously. “Hmmm,” she murmured. “So this is the famous secret recipe, is it?”

Feyarin bounced into the seat across from her friend. “Yep!”

Crystabel propped her chin on her hands, still analyzing the cooling cookies. “They look like regular chocolate chips.”

“Mmhm!” Fey nodded.

“However,” Crystabel said, delicately gripping a too hot cookie, “the scent of cinnamon in the kitchen rather gives the game away.”

Fey laughed. “That’s what I said, the first time Kiri made them. She said it wasn’t so much a special recipe as it was special who she chose to share them with.” She bit her lip, edging forward on her seat a little.

Crystabel took a bite, attempting to blow on the cookie after it was already too late. But she grinned at Feyarin after she swallowed.

“Mmm,” she murmured. “Sweet.”

“You like them?” Fey asked.

Setting the rest of the cookie aside, Crystabel leaned forward over the table. “I do,” she said quietly, before pressing a soft first kiss to Fey’s lips.

[currentsofdreams]

2. Memento

It was such a little thing, this ice blue crystal, nestled in the palm of her hand. A set of three intertwined snowflakes had been painstakingly chiseled into the face of it. Feyarin had worn the edges smooth, turning the trinket in her hand when she was stressed, or meditating, or concentrating on her studies. Kirielle had told her that the temple had found the crystal wrapped up in her baby clothing the day they rescued her. It was all that was left of her family, whoever they had been. Fey often wondered if it had been left deliberately in the hopes she would have something of them to hold on to. In her darker moods, when she wondered if she had been abandoned, she thought it must have been oversight, forgetfulness, that left her with so small and tenuous a link.

“Feyarin!” She whipped her head up guiltily to meet the eyes of her teacher. “Let me see that.” Reluctantly, she held up the crystal. The old highborne had made it clear that if she was to succeed in her studies, she was to obey. She knew it wouldn’t sit well with her guardians, but she also knew that the only other alternative was to leave Darnassus to learn magecraft from someone else. She didn’t want to leave, so she said nothing. She really hoped her silence had not led to losing her trinket.

But for once, the old woman did not snatch at what Fey held. Instead, she traced the shape of a delicate spell over the crystal in Fey’s hand. Frost coated the crystal, harmlessly, blue light pouring around the frosty pattern. Fey watched the light play, mesmerized, eyes straining to make sense of the shifting light—it dimmed too quickly for her to see. Her teacher closed Fey’s fingers over the crystal. “I think that is something best left for you to learn to unlock, child. I would not dream of witnessing something so clearly meant for you. It may take you some time to figure it out, but even with just the glimpse of it, I believe that you will find the answers you seek. Some day.”

Fey stared up at her for a long moment, blinking slowly. “My parents…shared my power?”

“Of course, child,” her teacher snapped, as if it had been obvious all along. “Now get back to work, or you will never manage more than a light dusting of snow.”

Fey bent her head back to her studies, tucking the crystal carefully into its customary pocket. “Someday,” she whispered, and let out a breath of frosty air before picking up her book again.

[currentsofdreams]

7. Bored

“Kirielle?”

“Yes?”

“What if we’re just, like. Specks. Like. Plants, you know? Like, what if there’s someone out there and they’re looking at us and we’re just sort of green and growing and pretty but not very bright? Or, what if we’re like. Ants, just building building building and that’s why something always comes along and knocks it down?”

Kirielle sighed heavily. “Feyarin.”

“Yes?”

“Do your homework.”

[currentsofdreams]

27. City

All letters are postmarked from Dalaran

1. Arrival Dear Fey, You would like it here, I think. The spires tower over the rest of the common city, but they are spaced in such a way that light glints off the cobbles in the streets. If you could ever be coaxed from the library, you would paint such wonderful landscapes. The war is…well, it’s progressing. I think we are winning. Stay safe, I’ll be home as soon as I can. Much love, Kiri

2. Departure Dear Fey, I have seen enough of the inside of this infirmary to last me a lifetime. I don’t care what the human healer says, Light curse them. I am coming home. If you could scout for a suitable apartment that isn’t elevated, I would greatly appreciate it. In the meantime, it might be best if you could find someone willing to ready a bed downstairs in the forge. I…know I am meant to be taking care of you, still, but. I am afraid I may need help. If you ever catch me saying something like that again, stomp on my foot before I manage to say it, would you? Love, Kiri

3. Return Dear Fey, I look around this city, one I never wanted to see again, and I realize that so much has changed. If I believed Northrend bad, this is infinitely worse. The people here are so hopeless, now, under this darkened sun. I was…wrong, Feyarin. We need everyone here, if only because we cannot possibly stand alone. Not against this. Forgive me for thinking of you still as a child. I know Ilsa has taught you the coordinates to portal here. I…realize you are of an age, now, where you do not need my permission. But if you desire to aid this great endeavor, this awful bloody mess we are in, please. I was a fool to think I could keep you safe. I love you. Kiri

[currentsofdreams]

24. Lullaby

The room was very warm, Feyarin thought. Almost suffocatingly so, after the big drafty bedroom where all the orphans her age stayed near the temple. She wanted to kick off her blanket, but every time she had found her nerve to do so, another odd creak pierced the dark. Sometimes a whoosh of the forge fire downstairs settling, or a light clank followed the creaking. Fey wondered what the blacksmith could be doing this late at night. She wondered if all houses sounded this way, or if it was only rooms above blacksmith’s shops that were so strangely loud.

She flopped over again, trying to find a cool space in the bed the blacksmith had made up for her in one of the storage rooms. She wondered if the blacksmith hated how warm her actual bedroom must be, pressed up against one of the chimneys. She wondered if the blacksmith regretted letting the priestess bully her into adopting a child, and one as potentially dangerous as Fey, and if that was why she was still downstairs, still, apparently, working.

She buried her face in her pillow, trying to stifle the sob that threatened to break as the thought washed through her. She didn’t know if this was going to be better than staying at the orphanage, but she didn’t want to go back.

Just before she began to cry in earnest, a soft hum began below. Fey sniffled, straining to listen. The hum grew louder, slipping over to words. Fey was too far away to make out what the actual words were, but the melody was gentle, falling like rain in the warm air of the smithy. Trying to listen, Fey’s eyelids grew heavy. The blacksmith was still singing when Fey finally fell asleep.

[currentsofdreams]

21. First Adventure

Feyarin was not going to be a priestess. Between the lectures on discipline she received and the whispers about sorcery she sometimes overheard, she knew for a fact that the priestesses in charge of orphans’ education did not want her hanging around any longer than necessary. Why, then, should she bother sitting around in boring lessons that weren’t going to help her in the long run?

It was too easy to sneak out of the garden where she and some of the other orphans were supposed to be meditating. Dropping over the ledge, she hid for a moment in a bush, out of breath with her own audacity. Since she couldn’t hear any commotion back up in the garden, she slipped away down the side of the road, bare feet trailing through the grass. Once she’d started walking, she sniffed, and followed the smell of baking bread.

Her eyes widened when she finally came across the bakery several minutes later. So fixated on the sight of such lovely cakes, she bumped into another girl as she began to cross the grass towards the window.

“Hey!”

Fey blinked up at the white-haired child, a little older than she was. The girl was holding a purse with the careful, puffed-up importance of a job that had been entrusted to her. “Sorry,” Fey said brightly. “I just wanted to look at the cakes.”

The other girl’s nose twitched. “I’m not supposed to. I have to buy the bread and go straight home.”

But as Fey bounced to her feet and went to the window, the other girl followed. For one long moment, the two stared longingly at the frosted sugary goodness. Then the door opened with a creak, and the baker poked her head out. “Are you going to come in? Or just stand there, mouths watering?”

The girls jumped, the white-haired one holding out exactly the amount of money she’d been told. “I need some bread, please,” she said, carefully rehearsed. The baker leaned over.

“And what about you?” Her voice was kind.

Fey’s lips twisted. “‘M just looking,” she mumbled, acutely aware that she had no money, and that she wasn’t supposed to be here. The baker frowned a moment, then waved a hand.

“Come on in, anyway,” she said. She carefully wrapped the other girl’s bread, and then she winked conspiratorially. She gestured to a case of cooling cookies, and said, “One each. And don’t go telling everyone what a soft heart I am.”

Eagerly, the girls each picked a soft, warm, chocolatey cookie, thanked the baker profusely, and ran outside giggling to settle on the grass nearby and savor their spoils. It was nice, Fey thought, sitting here with something sweet to eat and company that didn’t look at her sideways. In the future, she would do things like this often. She would make it so.