Sacred Twins on Whispering Mountain
TW: it gets intense. There are thoughts of depression and suicide, if you are sensitive to that issue, please don't read. Personally, I am okay and have long passed those kinds of thoughts. This honestly is just trauma dump writing. I know, cringe, but it adds an element to the story I'm trying to construct.
Thanks to those that have read and decided not to read further, it's okay. You'll be okay.
I haven't edited this passage much, just a quick run through. It made me have to go back to a couple of family trees and editing/ensuring some details.
"When you and your sister were born, they told me to either cast you out and stay, or leave with you.
I chose to leave with you." Mother said to child for the countless time.
He nodded, not really understanding yet.
"When this town learned that you were blind, they told me to either cast you out and stay, or make a case as to why we can live here.
I told them that my daughter can see messages from their lightning god, and you were her other half. Without one the other cannot exist, nor exercise her powers.
They were convinced. Don't give them a reason to cast us all out."
He nodded, still a little unsure of the severity. It would take some years and much scolding, but he learned eventually.
His sister couldn't see messages from the Thunder god. He could hear the cavernous voice tell him of castastrophes coming. He would tell his sister and she would convey the message to the crowd. The town prospered thanks to the strange family moving in.
It was the end of a long line of continuous moving. They were from Estravya, he knew that much.
Ending up at the final trade city, furthest one could get before going into Mannsland, he knew that she was at the end of her rope. Waiting for a straw to blow up at.
Mother could not stop herself from reminding them each time they were cast further from her home. How she could no longer enjoy a nice and easy life. How she chose to sacrifice it all for both her children.
She would only say all that to him, though. Est'kya never heard of the struggles they faced on the road.
Many reasons that the towns came up with to cast them out seemed silly at first. Anything to come up with to get rid of the filth in their unit.
There are many predators around, and we cannot give up a couple of guards to watch your family at all times.
The weather here changes much too quickly, it is essentially unpredictable and we cannot give up rescue teams to cater to your family at all times.
Although you are nice and pleasant to be around, it would be too much to accomodate your issues.
When Mother dug her heels at not moving further than Whispering Mountain, he was flabbergasted at first.
It was the first "reasonably reluctant" town they came across.
Located on a mountain with narrow pathways and sheer cliffpaths, twists and turns, mazes of tunnels throughout, why subject ourselves to this torture?
He was only seven, and accustomed to leaving a new home quickly. His sister seemed to inherit the weariness their mother subjected to him all this time.
"No matter where we go, we will be rejected. Let us show them that their reasons are idiotic." She groaned to him when he tried convincing her to talk to Mother about leaving.
"I'll help you whenever needed.
I'll walk the paths we need with you until they're memorized. I'll figure out the maze with you and make sure we're never in need of strangers' help. Just tell me the messages that you hear once in a while, and I'll help you out."
The residents of Whispering Mountain revered their Lightning God, one who writes messages of warning to them in times of need. Incoming flood, warriors, herds of food, whatever is needed to be heard of.
Although he couldn't see the messages, he definitely could hear its twin brother's same message, in booming Thunder.
He dedicated his hearing to finding any clips of warning, and relayed the message to his sister.
One spring they were quite critical to the safety of town when they recommended early harvesting, citing incoming flood.
At first the people were worried that the amount wouldn't be enough, until they were reminded that the flood would wipe it all out if not timed right.
His sister and mother helped boost foraging efforts in order to ford the winter.
Through time, he grew to be quite independent. He learned the path to school, the market, and the apothecary's shop. He grew quite accustomed to a set schedule of waking up, going to school, finishing his tasks, and visiting with the apothecary on the way home.
He made sure to learn different paths home and tried to ensure that he couldn't get lost. He could count the turns needed, time taken, and obstacles to be aware of on somewhat of a schedule.
He knew that the newscarrier dropped a huge stack of papers in his way on Tuesdays, but sometimes on Wednesdays when inclement weather came by.
Inclement weather was his nemesis, and he tried his best to avoid going out at all during those times.
Not being able to hear his footsteps to be confident he'd gone far enough to turn and not fall to his death was terrifying.
Some messages felt personal enough to him not to share with the others.
One day he heard a faraway thunderclap whisper:
"Stay strong... She's coming. Our dawn's blessing."
At first he thought it was someone that would make his life better. The first cheery and nice girl that interacted with him was when he learned to be more careful about acting on his messages.
On weary nights he would cringe at how he clung to her like moth to flame. Cried when he remembered how she left town to get some peace.
He kept away from trying to find love or companionship as the years went by. The only thing he had left was trying to decipher the message.
Who's coming? And why was it so important that they came here?
No more answers on that topic ever came up.
Heavy snow, rockslides, crop rotation recommended.
Heatwave, early spring, wildfire.
Confusion turned to frustration and he eventually became mute when his sister asked.
Fortunately for her, his mother journaled most events and was able to predict some. She figured that heavy snow could turn into rockslides or flood, and planned accordingly.
The dangerous ones he'd tell his mother, and she would relay the message.
All of the juggling was exhausting.
The more he understood what gossip adults were spewing, the more he pulled away from his family.
If he pulled away enough, they'd be free to return home and enjoy the rest of their lives.
One beautiful morning, he woke to sun shining on his face. The warmth reminded him of sticky summer nights, fanning his face and praying for a cool breeze.
Before he became whatever he was.
He hugged his mother, and told her to hug his sister for him, with a sad smile on his face.
Startled, she only smiled as her response, he hoped. It was silent for a long time. Eventually, she cupped his face with one hand and croaked, "I love you too."
She nodded, and returned to her house chores.
Lingering at the door, he turned his head back with tears in his eyes.
He wandered around town for several hours, getting himself lost. Unfamiliar smells wafted in the air.
At one point he realized he was at the gated entrance.
"Hey, you're not going out alone, are you?" A gruff guard grabbed the back of his shirt collar.
"Look at you, Skinny. It's not safe, even to forage right now."
"I'm not headed out. Just ended up here. I'll go home." He tried to shove an elbow at the guard and was caught easily.
"You know how many kids tell me that shit? I'm taking you home right now."
Some curses were muttered in between the two.
"Let me go," he grunted through teeth, hands grappling his opponent's.
"Skinny, you okay? I-" in the kerfuffle, Tugg temporarily lost his grip on his wriggling companion and nearly dropped him off a couple of stories' worth of cliff.
Thunder boomed in the crisp autumn air.
Instantly, the captive clung to him for life. Tugg stumbled back towards the wall as practiced. Both stood for a second, breathing each other in, hearts pounding.
"Weather's changing, we better hurry."
He thanked Tugg after getting dropped off in front of his door. Barely choked it out.
"Skinny, be careful okay?"
Nodding, tears threating to run down his face, he reached out to pat a thank you on his shoulder.
Something on his face must've scared the guard because he wasn't nearby anymore. No warmth to feel nor steps to hear.
He walked to the back of the house and slumped against the wall. Let out much of the tears he was holding in. Stretched his legs as far as he could until his toes felt air.
Tremors traveled from his toes to the tips of his fingers.
He scooted closer to the edge. Terror gripped his chest and locked his legs.
His shin felt free. A sigh racked his ribs.
THUNDER BOOMED. He jumped back and slammed against the wall. Hail pummeled his head. Wind blew him back when he tried to lean forward.
STAY STRONG. SHE'S COMING, OUR DAWN'S BLESSING.
"Who??" He wailed, standing up. The wind forced him back down. A storm rolled in suddenly.
A piercing lightning bolt must have painted the sky, he thought for a second that he could actually see dots. Thunder rumbled, roared.
The confused man sat there until twilight, calming down.
Breathless, Est'kya finally found him. Her face was boiled red with fury, confusion, and worry he could only assume.
"What, dare I ask, is the message?"
His sister gripped the same spot the guard had.
Deadweighting himself, he was able to barely prevent her from lifting him off the ground.
"Now." She ground her knuckle against his rib, digging a claw in between.
A slap crashed against his cheek.
"The gods told me to get my shit together, I guess."
He felt a whoosh of a slap stopped midway.
"... what?" It continued and hit his cheek.
"is this bullshit?" Another. "I heard you say, 'Who?' so it's obviously an important message."
"They told me to stay strong. To wait. I asked who was I supposed to wait for and no answer yet." He rubbed his ribs, shielded his cheek.
Without saying a word, his sister released her grip. Shoved him up and led him by his elbow to the door.
Est'kya was wary of her brother's power. And she was so tired.
Judging eyes assessing whether her family was worth the trouble.
So much of the land was difficult to live on, much less thrive. Much of her time spent growing up was trying to figure out an accessible craft that could be done on the road.
Researched many grasses to no avail. Either they prevailed on one side or withered the other. Flowers were a royal trade, to be done on their terms. No good.
Trees, something naively thought so simple, had so many varieties that fared better in some locations and warped in others.
Frustration built over time in her helplessness to fix their situation. Each failure piled up on another and she found herself taking it out on her brother.
Anger at herself for being unfair, despair at the shrinking list of opportunities, fear for the safety of her mother eventually drug her into a pit of depression.
She eventually realized that she often couldn't remember details of the end of the night before.
Trembles crawled up her arms when she skipped a day at the saloon. Irritation colored her words, making things said seem meaner than intended.
She knew that these feelings were all excuses. Things said to get the angry shit off her mind. She had to change.
Right before dinner on her way to the saloon, she heard the thunderous message.
Headless chickens flocked in her chest. She needed to find her brother.
After several hours of checking his favorite places, she was beginning to worry that he had gotten himself into an accident.
"Who??" and a terrible storm blew out into the streets, gushing her skirt up behind her. Hail pelted her head and tears streamed down her face.
She could hear that it was near or at their home. Looking around, Est'kya began growing frustrated at all the time wasted. Drinks undrunk.
Eventually she could hear some soft sobs and she saw him sitting at the edge.
Fright caused the flock to flicker around again.
He woke to silence for once. Used to clanging of a teacup against plate, or a spoon swirling in cup, worry fluttered in his mind.
He padded to the living room, trying not to think of the worst.
When met with a deafening house, sobs silently racked his chest and gurgled out, shaking his fingers and knees.
He sat on one of few furniture, their family couch.
Waited for a long time. Tears dripped down his face and snot pooled on top of his lip.
He was about to roar with anguish when he heard the soft kerfunk of the door closing.
"You look awful." Est'kaya dropped a canvas bag full of something onto the floor.
"Didn't ma tell you yesterday? We went to market early to do some exchanges."
"Some clothes. I found an old skirt that I can make into a jacket for you."
"Don't do that shit you pulled yesterday again. Scared me."
No response available, he drooped his shoulders and sighed.
"I'm sorry I grabbed you. I was so scared."
Turned his face towards sister. Dropped a small smile.
"It's okay. I know." He didn't feel like fighting at the moment. His whole body was exhausted.
Decided to nap the afternoon away.
Kaya was selling the last item tying her to Estravya. Her final totem of home.
She did her best not to think about how she felt about it. Just tried to steel her nerves so the buyer wouldn't find a weakness, and a discount.
Thought of her best poker nights, and furrowed her brows.
Casually threw the carved ivory onto the counter and asked what she could get for it.
The surveyer, eyes always seemingly closed, slipped a tiny pair of reading glasses on and looked at the piece. His eyes nearly bugged out.
"That's illegal to have unless-"
"I am Estravyan, sir. Not Native so no I personally didn't make or procure such a piece. My mother gave it to me. It was originally her donor/lover's. Who I assume either has a mother with such ancestry or had a lover with one."
He lowered his eyes to the piece again. Intricate details showed that it was a House signifier piece. A dragon with the head and tail of a snake, it seemed. A cursed pairing at the time.
"I may have a collector willing to buy such a dastardly piece. They seek thrill from treacherous dealings."
"We are not serpents, sir. Merely cast-off snakes. My mother's father was-"
"Hm. Should'a kept yer mouth shut. What name did your mother take? Snake or hers?"
"Grandma is... was nothing. Funnily enough grandpa married a commoner. It seems my mother married another Snake by the talks of it."
"I see. You'll find that honesty don't work out too well for ya. It's worth nothing as a snake heirloom. Sell it as a wyvern or serpent totem to the next one."
Rejection burned in the back of her mind.
"I'll keep that in mind, thanks."
"What d'ya mean commoner? Disgraced dragons are still dragons."
"Haha. She's commoner through and through. Grandma made Grandpa allow her to take his name. Father was a carver, and always called her his dragonling."
"Ugh. It's illegal to depict oneself as a royal during their reign when there are no legal ties. I'll talk to someone and see if I can fetch a good price."
Her eyes brightened at a potential sale.
"It's a lot of work so I'll be asking a good commission. You've got a weird family. Hope your father is doing well."
"His family cast us out of Estravya, I don't think much of him."
The owner narrowed his eyes at the house signifier, assessed the words the lady was saying, and shook his head.
"If it turns out bunk don't bother coming back in the future. I'll let you know in a coupla days' time."
After she left, the man groaned a sigh.
He wrote a letter and attached it to a messenger hawk. Letting his friend know that he was going to visit in a couple of hours with a possible blackmarket piece.
Ivory dragon house carving, made for commoners with no royal heritage, he wrote.
Ps. Its partner is a snake, which is an actual house signifier.
He knew there was a high chance it would net about a year's wages, depending on a good buyer. If real ivory.
He thumbed the piece again, feeling the silky bone warm in his hand.
By the time he reached the historian, he was about starving.
"Any thoughts on the legitimacy of the carving, or is it just hobby junk?" was his first gruff question as he raided the cupboard for more after several minutes of eating muffins.
"It's intruiging. Clearly the carver received royal-level teaching on carving techniques. He's included many personal details that dragon families only would know to include." The nerd coughed as he adjusted his glasses.
"As you can see here at the head, while they may have facial features of a snake, they have scales that are exclusively used for dragon sculptures." They grabbed a magnifying glass.
"And here, near the foot, are names carved to look like scales."
"Any good, or too personal and bunk?"
"The snake sees himself either the same or similar rank to a dragon. Unless he has dragon parentage or ancestry, it's definitely treason."
"I think the keeper mentioned that this came from her mother's lover, the carver. He's a snake for sure but doesn't know that side much. Her mother received her name and rank through her father due to the grandma being a commoner."
"Exactly. From Estravya too. Too many weird details."
"The carver has royal ties to a dragon, but the intended definitely does not."
"He calls her dragonling apparently."
"Hm. Could be treasonous based on his family. On either scenario." Cough.
"Either he's a serpent with true dragon parentage, or a snake that claims it."
"Snippered dragons don't have a true claim to the throne."
"No," the nerd replied. "But a Snake slithering about calling his wife a Dragon?"
Silence, and crumbs falling to the floor.
"Ah. An ancient tale of a demon serpent queen, taking her husband's heritage to qualify for the throne."
"Rumors are spreading that our Queen lost her husband, and has no legal heir. A Snake claiming Dragon heritage, married to a Snake. Their heir, Serpent may they be, may lay claim to the throne as dragon runs through their blood. Come on, the timing is too perfect." The historian put the magnifying glass to the cursed item once again, looking for details he possibly missed.
"Serpents ruled a dragon year once, when the rules were loosey-goosey in the beginning. I think by now people wouldn't agree to it and call it an usurping." He reassured himself, muttering to the sculpture.
"If unfounded what's so bad about claiming heritage?"
"People that like seeing an underdog rise up will voice their opinion, people tired of the current monarch will voice, and those wanting to use the chaos to their personal gain will arise." The historian sighed and handed the item back.
"The ivory is real, and the treachery promised could just be two lovers trying to pretend they're not marrying within the same house."
"How much do you think I could get off this?"
"Sell it to a snippered Dragon you're not looking for much. An ambitious snake or serpent, wyverns with dragon heritage would pay a lot for it. A decade of wages I'd offer."
