Private Tales Relentless

[Zaire]

[art cred]

Lately, it seemed Vel Anir was trying to show off how there was no issues between the Kingdom and the Falwood. Now, anyone with more than three brain cells knew better. From the Brotherhood to the skirmishes along the border, it seemed Vel Anir and Falwood were still giving one another a hard time, but doing so in a far more diplomatic manner than before. It was too much for Zaire to keep up with, he had never really been that interested in politics in the first place. After the Revolution, things only seemed to get more complicated instead of easier to understand.

Some elves were good, some elves weren’t, some elves could come to the Elven quarter in Vel Anir and some couldn’t. And how could you tell the good elves from the bad elves? Zaire couldn’t, and he was certain the rest of the Anirian population couldn’t either.

Although it seemed now he had to go and help some good elves with their goblin problem. Zaire would have felt some sort of excitement, his last couple of missions had been lame. Guarding a noble house, going with a noble to a house— all basic missions for a initiate who would graduate as a fourth level and never move up to third. He was only good for making a army better. Or making a good dreadlord better.

So when he had come into the room and saw Houri Luana already standing there, Zaire Glaive understood what his purpose would be for the mission: amp Houri up and let her deal with the goblins. If their mission went well then Vel Anir would have some brownie points with the Elven population on the border or in the Elven quarter. Strangely enough, even if Zaire’s personal magic was to increase and perfect one’s performance, currently he was struggling with some major performance anxiety.

He wanted to get high, especially as they could see the city of Amon Lanc getting closer and closer. He was able to make out individual structures that sat on top the grassy hills and it wouldn’t be much longer until he could make out the shape of elves and people. Zaire’s hand went to were he currently had a couple of dried herbs that were just waiting to get inhaled by him, but… Houri was here. Right here next to him.

Maz was his best friend and knew very well of Zaire’s slight dependence on herbs to be more personal, but did Houri? If she did, Zaire didn’t know, and if she didn’t, then he wanted to keep it that way. Once he graduated he’d stop, so he didn’t quite see it as lying, but…. Zaire cleared his throat. He had been very quiet on this journey, even more than usual. Even when Houri had spoken and tried to make conversation, he had just gotten tongue-tied and ended up sounding like a idiot or a asshole or both.

“We’re almost there.” His voice was hoarse and he cleared his throat again. “So. Uh. Yeah.” He was a real poet, wasn’t he?

Houri

 

[Houri]

​

The words were like a ear splintering scream except no amount of pressing her hands over her ears would quieten these voices. They echoed around her mind and seemed only to infect one another, wind them up and set them off screaming the same three words. Her hands felt slick with sweat and her heart like a trapped bird making it hard to breathe. What Houri thought was happening to her was some kind of mental break. The voices she could deal with, accept even, but this feeling? This feeling was a slow poison.

Nobody, of course, had explained to the young Luana that what she was experiencing was a natural part of being a teenager and that was, of course, because the Academy liked to pretend their walking weapons were not normal teenagers.

The trip had been torture.

Every attempt at conversation - all fifteen conversation starters Proctor Louve had given her - had failed at one word answers or grunts. They had always worked before which meant the only conclusion Houri had was that Zaire just simply didn't like her. In the old Academy she wouldn't have cared. She would have probably enjoyed the hatred and used it to serve her own purposes, but now hatred was wrong and to have someone to hate you was to fail. Houri couldn't fail. The only place she would be safe was here. As a Dreadlord.

She had to make Zaire like her.

But how?

"Oh," she blinked, coming out of her deep conversation with the voices who were offering up their own suggestions on how best to make a friend, and glanced up at the road ahead. "I suppose our contact will be nearby then," the idea of meeting an elf on friendly times was another discomfort.

 

[Zaire]

“Yeah,” Zaire said. He didn’t look at Houri, just kept looking at the growing sight of Amon Lanc. “We’re actually early.” Which was a surprise. It was morning, maybe two hours after sunrise. Zaire hadn’t been able to sleep any of the nights they had traveled, or at least not well. It was good when he took the first watch shift, but then when it was his turn to sleep he had instead stayed up or allowed him a light nap.

He was nervous that while he slept, he’d do something embarrassing. Like talk in his sleep or snore or have a nightmare or pass gas.

The only good thing about being unable to sleep is that while the sun was still rising, they were all packed up and ready to continue their journey.

“I’m pretty sure the guy in charge is a elf.” Zaire said suddenly. “I don’t even know how to start pronouncing his name. I know Proctor Pitlor said it, but I’ve already forgotten.” As if figuring out how to say this elf’s name was the most important thing in the world, the young initiate began to search himself and the only rucksack on his horse for the parchment that held their mission details.

“Shit— I mean, crap, I don’t think I have it. Do you?”

Houri

 

[Houri]

Houri glanced at him out of the corner of her eye as they rode.

Did he not sleep again?

He doesn't trust us enough to close his eyes.

He looks exhausted. It's your fault he's not sleeping.

No wonder he hates you. He's carrying your dead weight. Doing all the watches--

"Have what?" Houri said over the noises in her head. She hadn't been paying full attention to what he'd been saying and she cursed herself for it now.

The mission statement, Sura whispered so faintly Houri almost missed it. Feeling her cheeks beginning to heat a little she opened one of her own saddle bags and pulled out the rolled up parchment then handed it over to him. Sura filled in the rest of what she missed allowing her to continue.

"Maybe he'll be early too. Elves tend to not have the same concept of time as us."

 

[Zaire]

He leaned over, grabbing the rolled up parchment from Houri. He unrolled it, scanning over the contents.

“Maybe. I dunno, when I was in Alliria, it was like… everyone ran fifteen to thirty minutes late and that was expected.” Was it Alliria? Elbion? Maybe that one mission he had back in the Empire? “I think it’s like a Anirian thing to be early. Yanno, like our moms probably told us, ‘on time is ten minutes late.’” Zaire’s horse whinnied in what was hopefully agreement.

“Besides, if I was an elf and could live for centuries, would I take being on time seriously? Probably not, life’s too long to be on time for everything.” Zaire took a deep breath, mumbling the same word over and over. “Rhorothomir, Rhorothomir, Rhorothomir. Shit, that’s a tongue twister.” Too late, he realized his curse. The top of his ears grew hot and Zaire cleared his throat. A hand went to scratch the shaved spot directly behind his ear.

One didn’t just cuss in front of a Luana lady, especially not one that invaded Zaire’s dreams every night.

“Excuse my Elbionese.” He said, trying to laugh but instead coughing. He couldn’t play anything off as if he was cool, could he? First he had to ramble about time and what he would do as a elf, then he made a lame joke the fifth years would be making.

“If we’re early and Rhorothomir isn’t there waiting for us, we could uh, maybe, I mean, if you’re down and if not it’s okay we don’t gotta, but we could grab something to eat. Like. A snack, or something. But if you don’t wanna it’s cool, we could just sight-see or… do both….?” If she said no, Zaire could just pretend it was because she hadn’t heard his mumbling, and therefore, it wasn’t quite like rejection.

Houri

 

[Houri]

COULD THE BOY JUST MAKE UP HIS MIND! Boomed Ahdvi. The force of thunder echoing inside her mind was enough to make her wince and she could feel the other voices flinch too.

Stop being so dramatic, he's trying not to hurt our feelings. Clearly!

Yes, he's being polite!

"Of course we can grab food if you're hungry," Houri frowned, confused as to why he seemed to suddenly be unsure of himself. He'd radiated nothing but confidence until now with his stoic and quiet calm. Shit. She should have cooked! That's why. He was embarrassed for her. "I... I'm quite hungry too. I should have thought about breakfast sooner," her cheeks heated. Food was not usually something she forgot about once it was in front of her, but normal mealtimes were still a great challenge for her. In the Asylum for the last year eating had been determined by when the rat fell into her trap.

 

[Zaire]

Score. Zaire perked up, stopping his horrible posture of slouching while on horseback. He didn’t look over at Houri, it would have been too obvious if he had, but the corners of his mouth twitched up into a barely there smile. Maybe she had only agreed because she was hungry, but it was still something.

When they had been in Dornoch, Zaire had the misfortune in not being in her group until hours later. Of course, splitting up had been his idea, on top of the idea that he’d lead a group which meant that he had been with Vasha and Delilah. It turned out he was a shitty leader, and had joined back with Houri, Lumen and Marcie.

The smile turned back into a frown and Zaire began to slouch once again. This time, there was no Vasha, Delilah, Lumen or Marcie. It was just him and Houri. He couldn’t fuck up like he did back in Dornoch. He couldn’t risk bringing harm to Houri— although a part of him felt like Houri, even more than himself, could handle whatever trouble came her way.

“Yeah, breakfast.” Zaire said, hoping it came off unbothered and cool. Like the way Maz spoke naturally. Or wait, Maz was her brother. Maybe he shouldn’t speak like him, it would be too obvious he was trying too hard to be cool. And the point of being cool wasn’t trying hard, wasn’t it? “Sorry I’m not the best cook. I’m a lot better at growing…” he trailed off. Damnit, not the best joke to be making. “Uh, growing… vegetables. And mushrooms.” He kept his face serious, did his best to not look guilty and admitting to keeping Chasmine’s gardens alive.

“My brother was— is— the better cook.” He added, hoping it would cover up his slip up.

Houri

 

[Houri]

See! We should have offered to cook.

But... we can't cook.

We can cook rat!

I don't think charring a rodent with lightning counts as cooking.

Houri grimaced. Though, if she could have cooked anywhere, it would have been over a fire out in the middle of nowhere like this. Simple food, that was all she was good at.

That's not true, you made honeycakes...

"Only after Jiya showed me," she muttered beneath her breath and the voices quietened. Maybe next time she was home she could ask Jiya for some other recipes; her older sister took any opportunity she could to spend time with her and Houri often felt guilty she didn't feel the same desire.

"Your brother?" Houri perked up and glanced across. There was very little she knew about Zaire. "Do you have many siblings?"

 

[Zaire]

Oh, that was right. Houri never got to meet Dak. He had gone missing before she came to the Academy— or came back? Zaire was rather confused over the whole timeline, and if he asked Maz about it, well, he never really got a clear answer. Something had happened and they had been separated, but Zaire wasn’t sure if that was while they were in the Academy or before.

Besides, not many spent so much time outside of the Academy like Dakarai and Zaire. They were late-bloomers in that regard. Maybe it was why they were far less unhinged compared to some of the others in their class. Although Dakarai had seemed to fit in just fine. And as long as Zaire had Dakarai, everything was cool.

“Just my twin.” Zaire answered. “He’s on a mission right now.” A mission that should have taken weeks but had now stretched into months. “I wouldn’t have minded more siblings but my mom was a paladin. She was busy.” And his father had been a commander in the guard. Zaire suspected neither parent had time to have one child, much less twins. “Spent a lot of time with my grandparents and cousins. My family is kinda small.” He answered.

He looked over at Houri, seeing that she didn’t look bored. But family was a hard topic to talk about, especially with Dakarai still missing. But he wanted to keep the conversation, wanted to talk to Houri as much as he possibly could so when they headed back to the Academy, maybe things would be different than they when they had started.

What would Dak do?

“Not a lot of us get to be with our siblings in the Academy. You and Maz seem really close. You’re… older than him?” Zaire knew the answer and he felt his ears grow red, but it was a safe question, and one to hopefully keep the conversation going.

Houri

 

[Houri]

Twins? Why had Houri not come across this... Drak then? It was true that the numbers in this particular year group were far larger than the number she was used to expecting in classes, but she had still crossed past with most of the year group even if it was in passing. Missions didn't take that long, not the kind they sent initiates on anyway. She tried to read the look on Zaire's face to see whether he was concerned but he seemed stoic; Houri really wished she could be so calm and collected as him. Her emotions felt like a constant untamed herd of wild horses that she couldn't break.

The rest of the information she tucked away with great care.

"18 months older," she nodded. It was not the first time someone had asked her; a mysterious sister who had vanished and suddenly returned raised a lot of questions. Maz didn't seem to like answering them but Houri saw no shame in being upfront. "I missed a lot of the more... scholarly bits of education whilst I was away, but the Proctors believed I could catch up in a year. I'm sure my brother complains endlessly about me sharing classes with him," her lips curved at the corner at the joke; Maz would never complain. Houri was strong but Maz would never be the one standing in the shadows in their family.

"I have six siblings, though I suppose only four are still alive now," she mused with a shrug.

 

[Zaire]

“Don’t worry. You didn’t miss much.” Zaire said, a hint of humor in his tone. It wasn’t the first time a initiate that was older than the rest of the class was only there because the Academy felt the need to impart at least a little bit of knowledge before sending them off to graduate. He had heard plenty of times when a initiate was essentially held back a year and it was only ever because they had missed class time.

Like Pirian, Houri was in the same boat. Although unlike Kristen, Houri seemed much more like a dreadlord. Where was it had she gone to? Maybe she had been on a mission that turned out to be longer than it needed just like his brother?

“I’m sorry. About your siblings being… well….” Zaire knew back in the Academy, apologizing or showing grievances was frowned upon. “You know. Gone.” Houri didn’t seem bothered by it but that was to be expected right? They were initiates, soon to be dreadlords. This is how you were supposed to act. But Zaire could care less what was expected with the Academy miles away.

Family was important. His parents had instilled that belief in him and the Academy would never be able to take that away.

“I didn’t know. I don’t think Maz even told me his family had died.” Or Maz had told him and Zaire was just stoned out of his mind.

Houri

 

[Houri]

"My brother is a very private soul," Houri said solemnly and a small frown puckered her brow. It was a trait that worried her. Maz was, in many ways, far older than his years. Seeing him again after all these years had felt in a way as though she were meeting one of her older brothers, not the younger. The Academy was right to instil in the initiates the art of being serious; being silly seemed to be what got this particular class into so much trouble. But Houri worried her brother teetered on that fine balancing point and that if he did not talk more about the deeper, more personal matters with someone they would become infectious sores. She blamed herself, of course. Before she had been there to be that talking point and now they were practically strangers.

"He probably thought you had heard, it was in the press for weeks," she soothed lest Zaire feel her brother had somehow snubbed him.

Wait, you're making it sound like he should have known.

"Not that I mean you should have known, I mean..."

Stop stuttering!

"I mean, I didn't know for a year, so he could hardly expect you to..."

Embarrassing.

"Not that he would..."

Just shut your mouth child.

Houri grimaced.