A little Fic Writing
I'm sure I posted it before, but I'll post it again.
This is a snippet of my unfinished work for Welcome to Tyria, which I've been working on for ages. Please be nice to me, I'm a baby writer ;_;
The snippet is from the beginning of the story. Ladrenae is my Soundless Firstborn, Sylvari Mesmer.
OUT OF HIDING
Ladrenae in Thought
Before we even continue this charade of mines, it is best that I let you know who I am, or rather, who I was.
I am Lady Teagan Beaumont, a wealthy noble artificer and not a human.
Before then, I was a very stern Primus named Teigra Fearshot. Also, I was not an Axe Legion Charr.
OK, so more information. I was also, at one point, a Botanist named Temani who traveled with a krewe up and down the Maguuma swamps studying plants. Of course, I was never an Asura, and I can’t stand them.
To make this easier on you, I was never a Norn, a haughty and stout woman named Tahyra Snowborn, a champion of miners and women against the Dredge and Svanir.
But they are not me, or maybe they are. It never occurred to me how broken I was in this moment. Four aspects of me floating about a space, circling the one persona I rather forget.
Her.
But she is me. I am her, and he is right. I can’t keep running from myself anymore. I need to face this version of me that I have drowned out for more than a decade.
If only he knew how much I knew. Maybe he would forget, would want to forget too. Now is not the time to think of those things. The tides in the Eternal Alchemy are turning and I, too, must turn with it.
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My dreams have been very disturbing as of late. This usually happens before something tragic happens. My feelings have kept me one step ahead of everything and ready for flight as soon as it becomes too much. So yes, my dream, the dream I have always dreamed of when my eyes managed to come together after a day of stress and exhaustion, always goes like this.
A tall woman with a mushroom-shaped head and slender, delicate, bare feet runs through a demented forest surrounded by grotesque creatures and familiar persons once known to her chasing after her. The fresh jungle air struggles to roam free as the aura of a rotting landscape is strangling it. My eyes are filled with tears and fear as I run to the event horizon, only thinking about him. Is he OK? Is he even there? By now, undead hands and thorns start to wind themselves around me as I force myself closer to the end of the jungle.
I’m bleeding now, and I can’t tell where my blood starts and where others end; a large monstrosity charges at me. I temporarily break free of my chains to dodge its attack while another large creature belches jungle grubs from its mouth. Anguish cries roared through my immediate area, ushering me toward its drawl. I could only hope that whoever or whatever it was going to be alright, or at least hope that it or they would just end it already. I managed to fight my way through a clearing where a misty, moldy sight stood before me, strapped down by tendrils moving in and out of its body, unresponsive. Weird. Just moments ago, it yelled and screamed as a man would when faced with torture. I saw broken feet and legs held together, wrapped by rotting leaves. Its chest bleeding green with thorns hanging out, its head still down as if it was purposely hiding from me.
“La…Ladrenae...please….”
It spoke. The trembling of its voice, a soft and soothing voice I knew of. My eyes grew wide as I started incoherently babbling to myself over how, why, and who was in that rotten contraption.
I cried.
He told me to end it. Save everyone.
No.
No, I won’t.
“Teagan? Are…are you OK? You seem troubled, dear.”
Suddenly, I looked up at the human hands covering my watery eyes, wondering how I got to this point. A vine started growing alongside the wall in the grand garden. It had thorns on it. That’s what did it.
We were in the Promenade, walking about the Central Plaza as merchants, refugees, nobles, soldiers, and commoners walked around the large garden to conduct their activities. I noticed that the Ambassador saw me weary as he expressed his concerns. I wanted to hug him, bury my face in the familiar scent of his neck. It has been so long since I could be around him as myself.
“Teagan,” he said to me, “I want you to know that in a few days, I will travel to the Grove and stay for a couple of weeks. It’s time for me to check in with the others on my findings of human nature and to lead a few sapling classes.”
I voiced my disappointment in him leaving without our scheduled meet and drink at my home, to which he promised that we would have it another time.
“Better yet, if you want, Lady Beaumont, we could sit on your veranda and drink tea and eat some muffins before I go if you need it that much.”
I admit it made me feel better; however, I hated his sarcasm. I obliged, and we began walking toward my home.
The foyer of my home is decorated with various vines and ivy and blooming red and pink roses, stretching to the ceiling from the floor. For visitors, they tell me it feels as if they are walking through a tunnel in the Grove, as the scents are fresh and subtle. I guess that’s how he was able to figure me out. Dagonet triggered a conversation about walking through a verdant tunnel several times in his sapling days with the Firstborn. The now-known luminaries helped decorate and illuminate the tunnel into the Grove, which, to this day, is heralded as a necessary landmark for Tyria. He goes on and on about this, which I ignore, and I have him sit in my parlor as I readied the tea and warm the muffins. I returned with my mint-infused iced black tea and strawberry muffins for us to consume as he stopped to read a book on my coffee table to eat.
“I must say, Teagan, your muffins are always delectable, and the tea is refreshing as usual,” he said as he gulped down some of the tea with the muffin. Clearing his throat and wiping his mouth with a cloth, he told me what was on his mind.
“So, remember when I said I needed to go to the Grove for a bit of a vacation?”
“Yes, I do. Is it more of a diplomatic meeting disguised as a mission or…?”
“Well, something terrible has happened in Astorea.”
“Like what?”
“Nightmare Court. They attacked the pods, where our saplings sleep and dream until they are ready to enter the world. Attacked them. Many did not survive the attack some did, and I was told that two were in the direct line of fire. One was poisoned with Nightmare in the Dream!”
I must have had a look of horror on my face, one that a normal noble, or even a human for that matter, shouldn’t have, especially when it comes to Sylvari matters. I knew I messed up then because he suddenly stopped and stared me down, trying to read my next lie, and I was not going to have that.
“Do I need to pull a few favors? Maybe you have spoken to the Queen about this since you are ambassador, and she could at least send a few Ministry reps or Seraph or something on her behalf as condolences?”
“It wouldn’t matter. Jennah has centaurs, bandits, and the Charr to deal with. I’m certain she wouldn’t have time to spare for us, so I will check in with Pale Tree to see if she’s OK. I would have never thought that vile woman would be heinous enough actually to get into the Dream and poison someone. How is that even possible?! Thorns, I hate the Court.”
I felt horrible that I couldn’t help him. I wanted to console and let him know I was there for him if he needed anything. He looked broken. Uneasy.
“Dagonet, please let me know if there is anything I can do to help. I understand that this is a very trying time for you, and I want to do everything I can to ensure you are assisted. I-”
He got up from the couch with his tea in hand and walked over to the window. From there he stared off in the courtyard overlooking the populace moving about, everyone on their day to day business indifferent by anything that is happening outside of the city walls. I don’t know what I said to piss him off but clearly this whole situation is reaching his last nerve.
“--Wynne said that the winds were moving in a different direction. At the time, we argued about which direction to take and why. We asked Mother for guidance, and she told us to follow the big gusts of wind. What the fuck do I make of that? Is this the gust of wind and change in temperature that creates the storm over the horizon? When will the storm get here? If this is just the beginning, then what is coming? And how do we prepare?”