Private Tales Echoes Along The Way

[Seska the Dragonslayer]

The worst of winter was over, at least.

It was not precisely her favored season, even though the cold really had little effect on her slight frame. Here in the eastern reaches of Alliria, amid the city sprawl, she was least at home with the season. The scents of the marshes were muted by the chill in the air - even though it never was truly cold here - the sounds of the city subdued by the early hour. Alliria never slept, anyway...just dozed in the dark and during the hottest hours of the day in the summers.

The balcony served as her usual haunt first thing in the morning. The pale light washing over the world, fresh and new, played on the hanging baskets of plants that she kept here out of habit. Perhaps the only green things for quite some distance, they remained untouched by the chill and frost, nurtured by the touch of magic. Magic should not be used for such things, but she did anyway. Those that might have scolded her for such flippant uses of magic had done likewise themselves.

Also, she was perhaps the last of them alive.

She sat at a table sized more appropriately for her stature with a cup of steaming tea set before her, the sweet aroma of honey and vanilla wafted off its still surface. Behind her, curtains drawn shut so he could sleep in, Draedamyr still lie. He might have been awake, or not, but she did not pry nor deprive him of his desire for sleep - at least, not in the morning. The room they shared was ostensibly in an inn, it was just that they had been there for several months now. Resting and recovering from the trials and tribulations in the wild hinterlands of Arethil. Much wine, warm baths, and late morning had followed the exhausting affair.

And, in her way, she had settled back in to the familiar role. A ghostly observer, ignored by most, in a world that had moved on a long time. Without loss so close in mind, the darkness of dwelling in a dark past had slipped on by. Now it was back to the humdrum observations of a world that was full of its own vigor and youth, and between watching on as the children played at empire and civilization, there was the tender affection she heaped upon the old elf snoozing away in the darkness even then.

She picked up her tea, blew on the surface, and tasted its delicate flavor, before turned her eyes to the skies and watching the birds flit among the pall of chimney smoke vapors of industry.

Content.

 

[Draedamyr]

Draedamyr had always been a creature of the evening hours. He enjoyed city life. He enjoyed entertainment and the arts and he enjoyed fine wine.

That they had been travelling the wilds had not been the worst thing to happen to the pair of them. There had been demons of a very real, tangible kind and there had been demons from Seksa's past.

As he did most mornings, he woke reaching for the warmth of her form only to find that site of the bed empty. He shielded his eyes as he lifted his head.

Once again, he smiled as he saw her silhouette against morning sun through the curtain. He lay there for a few more minutes, breathing slowly and enjoying the warmth of the morning sun.

Finally he stood up, slipping on some loose night clothes to join her.

"Good morning," he said softly. He stood behind her, leaning down to place a kiss on her cheek.

"Diamendez said that we'd be more than welcome to view his private gallery this afternoon. Apparently he has quite the collection of oil works like the one we saw last week? We could walk the market this morning, unless you want to come back to bed?"

He had been trying to find some topics that might hold her interest recently. He knew things had been hard on her. He very much found her in the same condition he had been in when they first met. Feeling like a ghost in a world they had severed a connection to.

 

[Seska the Dragonslayer]

"Good morning, dear one," she said softly and without turning. The music of her voice was an accompaniment to the birds that flitted in and out of the balcony. Drawn by the fragile blossoms she kept alive via her own power, this one place was a veritable menagerie of life even in the coldest parts of winter. She leaned into his touch, closed her eyes and smiled beatifically.

And then picked up the cup of tea and blew on its surface. "A walk would be lovely," she lilted at him, turned to look up at him. Her pale flesh bore the lightest touch of color and that only seemed to serve to accentuate the startling hue of her eyes. "Not that bed doesn't have its...delights."

A fiendish gleam in the eye, a flash of mischief. There and gone as if it had never been.

A walk would be good, she thought to herself. She spent too long staying away from the crowds of the cities as it was; only by the grace of the handsome elf beside her did she even venture into the warrens of human activity so often. Hers was the wild places and the solitude - forests, mountains, deserts. Idly she wondered how Draedamyr would handle the Courts of Fae-kind. There was certainly some amusement to be had there, but later.

"Breakfast first?" She leaned forward and poured a cup of tea for him. The cup hadn't been there a moment ago, but that was such a trivial trick of conjury that she barely even noted it as she handed the steaming cup to him.

 

[Draedamyr]

Draedamyr sat down opposite Seska, reaching for the tea. Her look might have been fleeting, but the warmth it made lingered. A heat in his chest that rose up his neck. Their first union had been so gentle, so loving. He had forgotten that she had lived many past lives and had surprised him more than a little with delights over the last few weeks.

He picked up the cup, blowing a small column of steam into the cool morning air. This little balcony had become a haven. He knew that they had different habitats, but the old elf had seen enough of the wilds for a little while.

Draedamyr leaned over the balcony to look down at the street below. It was peaceful, but he knew that would not last. There would be horses and carts out in numbers soon and the hubbub from the market down the street would begin.

"It's starting to feel a little warmer in the morning," he suggested.

 

[Seska the Dragonslayer]

"The eternal flow of time," she said lightly in response. A flow that she only measured in seasons, not hours or days or weeks. Time had long since become a meaningless thing adored by the mortals it stalked tirelessly. "Spring is one of my favorite seasons," she added.

When the land slowly breathed itself back to life. As she was even now doing following their arduous adventure.

She stared into her tea, allowing the silent moment to stretch. "When it gets too warm it will be time to meander our way northward," she said. She actually preferred the cooler climes to the warm, although she was not quite sure that Draedamyr shared that predilection. "Come, sit with me," she said as she looked up, beckoning him with her eyes. A meal was there, as quick as that. Her own consisted of a piece of ham and an egg, which she ate so delicately as to almost be amusing.

 

[Draedamyr]

"You know, I am capable of walking downstairs and fetching things," he said with an air of amusement. He sat down and turned to his breakfast.

She had stepped back into the habit of using magic for many of the most trivial of things since she had recovered. They had been through several events that had pushed even her strength to it's limits.

All his skill with the blade had seemed quite worthless by comparison. Only a few hundred years of honing the art to perfection.

"I enjoy summer evenings," he declared. "Especially when you can hide from the midday sun in the shade and emerge into the cool evening air to enjoy some wine."

He sat down and let his mind wonder to days gone by. His memories stretched back far, by elven standards, and it took time to follow the threads.

"You want some cool coastal air for the summer?" he asked

 

[Seska the Dragonslayer]

"I have to use some of it," she replied to her companion. "If I do not it... becomes rather uncomfortable." Magic was not like some things. It needed release, and that in and of itself was a problem on this world. Long ago she had become accustomed to small mundane things to keep the wellspring of the Art from overflowing and causing all manner of problems.

It was still frustrating to her that she could not simply... go. The memories of walking between the stars, flitting from world to strange new world, had become like mist in the summer sun. Fleeting and then gone. For all of the might that burned in her veins, she had achieved nothing of note in the previous ten thousand years.

A sidelong look at Draedamyr, the curve of her lips. Almost nothing.

"I do not care where, so long as it is by your side," she said simply. No guile, no sarcasm... just stark truth. "But I do hope you pick a place that I do not need to cut the air with to move. Invigorating as being unclothed is, stripping in the street is generally frowned on." She picked at the meal on her plate.

And then smiled at him. "You should teach me the blade," she said. She did not say that she knew how to wield one, once. The threads of her memories could not always be followed back. Some of them were gone forever.