Private Tales Roses and Rust

[Larka]

“Mirren,” Larka said, shaking the girl a bit. “Can you hear me?” Mirren looked up at Larka, dazed and confused, but nodded her head once. Larka placed her hands on the girl’s shoulders, helping her to sit upright. The moment Mirren saw the rust monster and the restless spirit, she cringed, sinking into Larka, using her hands to hide her face as she went into fetal position.

“Mirren, I need you to sing.” Larka continued. The girl shook her head, whimpering. Larka sighed, tightening her grip on Mirren’s shoulders, but then stopped. It became clear to her now what was going on. Florian’s moment of insanity, why Gannis was doing his best to create distance between Larka and the monster.

They were going to give Mirren up. Would that end the curse?

Her grip softened on Mirren’s small shoulders, guilt gnawing at her gut. There was a part of her, of course, that wanted to find another way. Mirren was a citizen, she should be protected, it was in the contract to end the curse to protect the inhabitants of Gallica— but Larka understood what conclave contracts meant. Gannis had confirmed as much earlier when talking about it.

So while she felt guilt… the conclave came first, didn’t it?

Larka took a deep breath, repeating in her head the principles she had learned. She took her dagger and grabbed Mirren’s small hand to then only pierce it. Mirren cried out in pain, crimson splattering on the floor. Larka took in the metallic scent, her mouth drooling. She was hungry. So hungry that Mirren was starting to smell good. She shook her head to clear her head.

Larka could hear the rust beast attempt to attack, but knew Gannis was there to guard them.

“Sing or I’ll stab you again.” Together they couldn’t beat this thing. She needed Mirren to sing. Larka selfishly wanted to live, wanted her mentor to live. Tears were welling up in her eyes, one falling down her cheek. “Sing!” And she raised her dagger, poised to stab Mirren again.

Mirren whispered. Faintly. But it was a song, and it reverberated in Larka’s skull, causing her to bare her sharped teeth, a feral look in her eyes.

Gannis

 

[Gannis]

Gannis had failed Larka. There had been more lessons than he was ready or able to teach in this one contract. She wasn't ready to be the one to act on the horrific choices that they had to make. She was supposed to observe, learn.

Now she was threatening a small girl.

Gannis didn't try and convince himself of anything. He did not know what would happen to Mirren beyond this and might never know. There couldn't be any lies or they would simply grow.

He felt the first chords of the song. The harmony with the creature was discordant and unpleasant. The effect was more than simply the sound.

"Sing Mirren!" He shouted, before he started to lose his footing.

 

[Larka]

With a choking sob, Mirren sang louder. It was a song with words, Larka realized, but sung in such a way that it hardly sounded like common tongue. Emphasis was placed here or there, sometimes syllables were completely drawn out in such a way that Larka couldn’t tell where they had began or were supposed to end.

But Mirren’s song, her strange voice, mixing with the hum of the rust— there was a melody there, yes. A melody that was older than this tone, perhaps older than the restless spirit. Where that thing had come from, why it was intent on taking a girl, who knew.

A whistle took place, cutting through the biphonic melody, a whistle much like wind cutting through rock on a shore. Larka looked over, seeing the restless spirit take into him all the rust that was covering the town. Like locust to devour a wheat field, a wave of red rose over the city to block out the light of the fading sun. Larka could feel the rust whipping against her bare cheek, could feel the sting of flesh that had been scathed over and over, her body constantly healing it.

The foster had Mirren stand up, and she looked at the young girl who kept singing. Despite the exhilarating song she was making, her eyes were dead. Larka looked over at where the restless spirit was, saw him beckoning for Mirren to go to him.

Shamefully, Larka pushed Mirren forward and hung her head low. She didn’t want to see what the spirit would do once the girl was in his grasp.

Gannis

 

[Gannis]

He felt a wash of shame as he stood aside. Logic had him backed into a corner. He could pick up his sword and swing it some more, even transform and throw himself at the apparition.

All that would achieve was his own death and possibly the rust spread back across the town.

The girls were taken once a generation, that was what he recalled. Few things had a hunger that could be sated so rarely, so he had to imagine Mirren would be kept alive. Whether that was preferable to death, he could not say.

Gannis didn't look away. He had to know, had to work out what could be done differently next time.

MiNe

Less of a sound, more of a concept of possession that rode on the back of the song.

 

[Larka]

Mirren continued to walk toward the spirit with heavy feet. The spirit opened their arms for Mirren, embracing her. It picked her up in it's too-long arms, holding her close once again to where it's chest should be. The song intensified, a crescendo of sound that shook Larka's bones at the very core, the pitch's growing higher and higher to create an ephemeral yet inhuman sound.

Then the restless spirit began to walk away, turning its back on the venari as more and more rust from the town followed suit. Mirren started to become covered in rust, the tendrils forcing its way into her any way it could. It forced its way into her mouth, her ears, her nostrils, and as she choked on it, somehow her voice could still be heard mixing with the spirit's.

The song faded as the spirit continued to walk away, but there was a shimmer. Every step seemed longer than the first, and soon enough it was traversing distances far greater than the stubby legs should ever allow it to.

Larka hadn't realized that she had been holding the dagger with a white-hot grip. She turned her head to look at Gannis, immediately shifting back completely. She took a single step towards him. Her muscles seized up.

"Gannis." She murmured, her hand spasming so great that she dropped the dagger. She fell over, face first. "I can't... move." Larka whispered, as a seizure took over. She hadn't transformed completely, but her body was beat, in a way she had only experienced once before-- when she first turned.

Gannis

 

[Gannis]

If Gannis had been hoping for some kind of insight into the nature of the beast, he was a little dissapointed. He had witnessed more of the process, but nothing that made any connections with his memories.

"I can't... move."

"Shit."

Fully shifting took its toll, but in a way it was easier than going partway and then back again.

He was quickly at her side, dropping to a knee and placing a heavy hand on her shoulder to keep her in place as she started to shake uncontrollably.

"Just breathe girl, it will pass," he insisted. There was no magic trick to get through the worst of this, just bearing the pain and then getting plenty of water and food when it passed.

His gaze went from Larka to the house ahead. His gaze narrowed when he recalled what Florian had done.

 

[Larka]

Larka was mostly silent as the seizure racked through her, now and then a gasp or grunt would be uttered into the dirt. She felt Gannis’ hand but was rather unaware of everything else. She was confused more than anything with what was going on, for a moment she could feel fine but soon enough the shaking would start all over again. Her lungs burned, she couldn’t breathe. Her eyes, partially open, saw nothing but darkness.

Perhaps this was the way that she would go?

Unforgivable. She thought to herself, her thoughts turning dull. If she were going to die then she should have helped Mirren out more. Unforgivable.

Suddenly, it stopped, as soon as it had appeared. There was a pain inside her head, a ringing in her ears, and she felt incredible aches course through her once more. She coughed, turned her head to the side and sucked in lungfuls of air. Her cheeks stained in tears, smudges of dirt looking like dark clouds against a early morning sky.

“We completed the contract… right?” Larka, despite not saying it, didn’t want to see Florian. Not when she felt so weak.

Gannis

 

[Gannis]

"Don't worry about that right now, we did as well as we could. You did more than I should have let you," he said.

Gannis offered a smile. On his face, it managed to look disconcerting. It was more like a threat, mapped out in scar tissue. He reached down and pulled back a long frond of hair that had remained plastered to her face.

"Stay here for a little while," he said quietly. He laid a hand on her should more gently for a few seconds and then stood up. His gaze fixed on the house. "I'll get you a skin of water."

Gannis stood slowly. He stepped past Larka and made his way back to the door. There was a finality to the way his knuckles rapped on the door.

"The rust is gone."

 

[Larka]

“Sister Aysel always said that if I want to be taken seriously I have to work harder than others.” It was mumbled, perhaps moreso as a reminder to herself than to make Gannis feel better about what had transpired, but Larka closed her eyes. She took a deep breath and nodded her head in response. Water would be good, and despite the seizures ending there was no way she was moving from this spot at this moment.

When Gannis would come to the door— that had been shut and locked— loud voices could be heard booming inside. Partially muffled, but clear enough that the conversation was a heated argument, boiling over.

“Like I give a shit, you brought ruin to this town— to me!” Heavy stomping down the stairs could be heard. “So two more girls, it’s a fucking Gallica tradition at this point! I’ll send them off myself and in another fifteen years I’ll do it again!” It was Florian’s voice that echoed around the house the most, and following it soon after was a resounding crash. Something fragile had broke, scattering around the floor. “Fuck!” Another crash, more glass breaking, but perhaps this time not by accident but on purpose.

Gannis

 

[Gannis]

"Now..." Gannis started, placing his hands at his sides.

"You can open this door and we can talk with civility about the contract and what you did you Larka or..."

"Actually," Gannis corrected himself, sounding almost pleasantly amused by his mistake, "Let's just keep it to that first option shall we?"

Gannis understood the pain, he understood why they bemoaned the loss of another of their people. He could almost understand throwing Larka to the monster in desperation.

Almost

 

[Larka]

There was a pause, brief with hesitation. From behind the door steps came closer and closer. He unlocked the door. A deep breath came from Florian, and he slowly opened the door, trying to give Gannis a hard look but failing immediately.

His entire body was tense, and he seemed to look over Gannis’ shoulder in a pathetic attempt to see whatever could be over there.

“I have your coin.” Florian said softly, holding out a sack of animal skin filled with the amount of coin originally agreed upon.

Gannis

 

[Gannis]

Gannis took the coin but slipped his boot into the space between the boot and the frame.

"Did you push my assistant out of the window?" he asked. There was a menace in the calm and even tone.

He continued to smile.

"Because I feel that if you did, she might be due an apology. A really fucking sincere one."

 

[Larka]

Florian looked at Gannis, narrowing his eyes. A stand off, because Florian understood what would be expected if he said yes. He also figured what could possibly happen if he said—

“No. I didn’t push anyone out. You should get going. The sun is setting. There’s no inns here.”

Gannis

 

[Gannis]

Gannis' hand shot through the small crack in the door. He despised being betrayed, but even worse was being made a fool of and having someone lie to his face.

He grabbed Florian's tunic and yanked back in one sharp movement. There was a crack as the man's head struck his own door.

Gannis pushed the door open as Florian stumbled back. He stepped inside and closed it softly behind him.

"I heard you," Gannis growled. "She's not dead, but you tried to harm one of ours. We won't be taking any of your children."

He cast his eyes over the books and tomes.

"But you will be making a donation to the organisation. And in return, we will send Venators back to finish the job once we have worked out how to remove the curse."

 

[Larka]

Florian yelped, stumbling back like a fawn learning how to walk. When he back hit a wall, a hand went up. One nostril was bleeding, and he dabbed at the blood with two fingers. He looked at the crimson, looked over at Gannis. Cursing under his breath, he wiped his fingers clean on his tunic, shaking his head.

“I’ll apologize then.” He seethed at Gannis, as if he stood a chance against the venator. It seemed Florian was a fan of choosing lesser evils, or maybe he just preferred the easy way out of things. “Take what you want and leave. Where’s the child? Outside?” Without waiting for Gannis’ response, Florian stomped outside, making sure to knock his shoulder into the man, continuing to stomp all the way over to Larka.

Larka had slowly brought herself to her hands and knees, and when Florian came over to her she flinched. Yet her eyes were steady, looking at the man, once having splotches of rust on his face but no longer. A man happy to give up Mirren, and most likely, any other girl.

“I aPoLoGiZe,” Florian began, looking back over to Gannis before staring down at Larka once more, “FoR tHrOwInG yOu OuT a WiNdOw To FiGhT a CuRsE lIkE I PaId YoU tO dO.”

Gannis

 

[Gannis]

"Didn't sound like you meant it," Gannis called from the door. He would have been more angry, but he had a good staff of interesting reads under one arm. He had been particularly quick in choosing what he wanted.

He smiled as his right hand reached upwards. Up until it came to rest on the pommel of his sword.

He wasn't bluffing either. It wasn't the right way to go about this, but Gannis had never had a charge under his protection put forward as a sacrifice before. They would have to have Larka loudly announce that she was neither a virgin nor a witch at every backwater town they went to.

"Try again."

 

[Larka]

Florian sighed. “I—“

“Apologize for being a son of a bitch.” Larka cut him off, keeping her eyes leveled at him.

“You—“

“Apologize for being selfish.” She continued, her hands shaking, but not from weakness but from that spark of fury. “Apologize for letting that monster take Mirren and not caring because your ugly face is back to normal. Apologize for not being honest with us in the first place. You knew more than you told us but you played stupid. If you flung me out the window to save Mirren, that would be fine, but if you did it to save yourself then apologize for it.” Florian was quiet, Larka continued to stare him down. The dagger was between them.

“That’s a lot of words.” Was all he said through gritted teeth.

“I’ll make it easy, repeat after me: I’m sorry for being a selfish son of bitch that threw you out a window because I didn’t give you the tools you needed to kill it.” Florian looked behind him, perhaps half-expecting Gannis to undo what Larka had said, but he caught sight of his hand on his sword. Caught sight of the books. His shoulders slumped. He was exhausted like they were.

“I’m sorry for being a selfish son of bitch that threw you out a window because I didn’t give you the information you needed.” Larka scoffed. For a man who was supposed to be so well-read, for a man who seemed so scholarly, his short term memory was laughable.

“Mirren never had a chance because of you.” Larka told him as he turned to walk away.

“Like I care about some girl from a family of outcasts.” Was his reply. He looked at Gannis. “Hope you have enough.” He said bitterly.

Gannis

 

[Gannis]

"We are a family," Gannis said more sincerely.

Right now, he was exceptionally proud of Larka. She was the one who had been wronged and he was delighted to see her spirit strong.

They worked in some of the edges of civilisation, where people themselves could be as savage as the beasts that plagued their lives.

They had to be ready to deal with problematic attitudes and occasional hostility, especially when you looked like Gannis.

"Come on Larka, you walking or being carried?" he asked quite seriously.

---

There was a quiet hubbub at the inn. The port was a good march south and Gannis thought that a few days in relative comfort would do them both good. They needed to recover: mentally and physically.

The town was large enough to have its own palisade and a few guards. It was just the same as any other human town that had sprung up alongside trade routes through farmland.

The flagstones underfoot were cold, but there was plenty of wood burning in the hearth.

Gannis returned to their table. He was grinning. Behind him, the girl from the kitchen was watching curiously.

On the table before Larka, he set down a plate piled high with food. Stew that had been leftover from the night before, next to thick chunks of bread, a solid lump of beef, boiled potatoes and roasted mushrooms.

"There," he declared. The kitchen girl remained at the door, curious as to what would come next.

Gannis sat down in front of a bowl of the stew and a smaller wedge of bread. He glanced through the windows as a woman in a dark blue shawl passed by. Hopefully the town was large enough that they could both deal with their vices, in their own ways, tonight.

"How are you feeling?" he asked. Looking after Larka came first for now.

 

[Larka]

Larka looked up at Gannis as he brought over the food. Larka’s large, round eyes looked up at him, her eyebrows moved up into a expression of a begging dog. Despite her somber mood as they traveled to the port, Larka’s face was alight for a moment. She was drooling of course, and made sure to keep her mouth closed.

She waited for Gannis to grab something first, and, as Sister Aysel had instructed, she slowly counted to three. It was agonizing, doing something so simple yet so insufferable with her insatiable hunger. Larka swallowed hard, and with shaking hands of an addict, she managed to first grab a fork. She filled her plate high, quickly yet methodically and then finally, finally she could eat.

There was no look of joy on her face, only relief. Not like she could really taste much, but the textures were rather nice. Like a starving dog, she finished a plate quickly and then served herself a second. Only then could she answer Gannis.

“Thank you,” that was the first thing any foster should say. Of course, the ‘thank you’ could have been for a lot of things. For protecting her at Gallica, for letting her walk out of town to then carry her back to their dogs, or now for the food. It was likely a culmination of everything. Her bright gold eyes looked at Gannis’ face, observing the scar tissue as she ate.

Larka had yet to get any scars on her face, or any deep enough to leave a mark. Soon she would have them, every venari had scars on their faces. At least, all the good ones did.

“I’ll feel better once I eat. It’s my strain, Sister Aysel said I’m a voracious eater, always starving like a mangy cur.” Larka paused only to stuff more food in her mouth, chewing quickly and swallowing. She looked down, guilt and shame clear in her eyes, her lower lip quivering as she thought back to it. She held back the frustrated tears, took a deep breath, and continued. “Mentally? I feel like a failure, or, I guess… more like a runt.”

Gannis

 

[Gannis]

"Eh, I was the runt of my batch," Gannis said. It couldn't come as a great surprise, not after she had seen his small, albino form.

Gannis was quite content to leave the lion's share of the food to Larka. The kitchen girl, satisfied that there had been no exaggerating of her gastric prowess, retreated into the back rooms.

"Sister Aysel had a lot to say," Gannis laughed. "Hm, I didn't have a free hand for an ale."

He dipped a chunk of bread in broth and took a large bite. He continued to speak with his mouth full.

"I guess no one looks at me like this," he said, waving his bread at himself and scattering crumbs over his tunic, "and thinks there's a runt I should rob on the road. More like: there's an ugly piece of work who is probably gonna Rob us on the road."

 

[Larka]

It was a comfort to know that despite also being a runt, Gannis was still alive today. It did spark a sense of hope and admiration from Larka and as she moved onto her third plate of food, she nodded her head to what Gannis was saying. Her lips did pull up into a smile, eyeing her mentor’s table manners. Oh, Sister Aysel would have much to say about something like that.

Larka suppressed a giggle, her dour mood lifting up as more crumbs fell. There was twinkle of childlike mischief in her eyes, but his words were not lost on her. He was trying to cheer her up.

“I think if I didn’t know you, I’d be nervous as well, you have a oversized cleaver instead of a sword for one.” Her third plate was finished, with less vigor she made a fourth plate. “You also have at least seven inches on me.” Larka added, and then looked at the table and back towards the kitchen. “I guess if I was human I wouldn’t think of you as a runt. But I don’t know if I’d immediately label you as ugly.” Without skipping a beat, she finished with, “do you want me to grab you a mug?” Larka asked, already beginning to slide off the bench to go fetch an ale.

Gannis

 

[Gannis]

"Yeah go on, grab yourself one for yourself too. They've seen the coin so we'll pay on the way out."

They didn't need to know that most of it was for the conclave. It didn't belong to them. They still had plenty to cover the rooms and food.

He continued as soon as she was sat back down.

"Don't need to humour me because you're stuck with me a whole training cycle," he laughed. "I've seen a mirror before in my life."

Gannis took a long swig of ale. He wiped the foam from his lips with his sleeve.

"So what other commandments dod Sister Aysel make you learn rote before you were allowed out?"

 

[Larka]

Grab an ale for herself, too? Larka scampered off, wondering if it was alright for her to do such a thing. Sister Aysel would scold her if she grabbed one, but… glancing back over her shoulder, Larka made for certain Sister Aysel wasn’t there. Gannis didn’t seem the type to test her on a matter such as this and anyways, he did say she could have one.

Larka came back with the mugs, setting the one most full in front of Gannis. She looked into the cup with a mixture of excited wonder and a bit of guilt. Using both of her hands, she lifted up the mug to take a big gulp. When she set the drink down she licked the thin line of foam off her upper lip. This had taste to her, faint but it was there.

“Florian is far uglier than you could ever be. I think looks matter little compared to one’s virtue,” Larka insisted, but paused. “I guess I could be a bit biased but if I was bald and had scars all over, I still don’t think I’d call myself ugly. But I wouldn’t want to be bald, I like my hair.” She added and knocked on the wooden table, going back to eating as she considered Gannis’ question.

“Sister Aysel believed one should be humble always. She told me often no matter what I achieved, someone else had done it better and faster. That’s why you have to strive to be the best you! It’s good for me to know where I succeed and where I fail.” Larka’s eyes went back to her mug. “I guess she was right in saying I have a hedonistic streak.” As if in agreement, Larka gulped down even more of the ale.

Gannis

 

[Gannis]

Gannis had to close his mouth tight at the word virtue. He actually had to wrap his lips around his teeth and press them tight together to avoid smiling as she answered his questions seriously.

He ran a hand through his hair once before picking up the ale and hiding the last attempts at an involuntary grin in the mug.

At least he still had his hair.

"Eh," he went, watching her eat and drink. If this was what Sister Aysel called a hedonistic streak, then she hadn't seen how the venators lived our in the real world.

"Being humble is a good thing. Not because it makes you a better person in the eyes of others, because it keeps you alive. You start thinking you're well above other people is the day you become a snack. The orange-venom wasp of Ixchel will sting you, and bury you underground. Unable to move, with eggs waiting to hatch and devour you alive. Fuck what other people think about you, fuck what Sister Aysel thinks about you, that is why you wanna be humble."

"As long as you don't damage our name, don't get fat and slow, don't die in a brawl to some common sailors..." Gannis waved both hands to indicate that it mattered far less than doing the work professionally.

 

[Larka]

Larka decided then that Gannis was blunt like his weapons. She also decided that it wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, either. His language was harsh in a way that it was shocking to hear some one curse so casually at someone that Larka admired. Sister Aysel was ruthless with her words as well, honesty was important in the conclave. Gannis talked with his hands, Sister Aysel always had her hands firmly clasped together.

Sister Aysel was far different than Gannis, someone that Larka had stopped using honorifics for. Sister Aysel was bigger than Gannis, only a few inches away from seven feet and she had the width and muscle that one expected out of venari. She was no runt and made it obvious. Larka had struggled to keep up with her long strides, even if she ran she felt she was always two steps behind.

It made sense to her why after Sister Aysel she was paired up with Gannis.

“I don’t think either of us could get fat,” Larka said cheerily enough, onto a fifth plate. “And I would never tarnish the Conclave’s good name. I’ll do anything for my home, for my brothers and sisters, aunt and uncles, grandfather and grandmother.” She paused, rolling up her sleeves again on her oversized tunic until she was comfortable. “Gannis? I’d like to be better. Much better. I want to be stronger and smarter and faster— no, I need to be those things. Please, push me.” Her gold eyes were fierce once again as she spoke, a look that hardly matched the roundness of her face. “I promise, I’ll listen and do whatever you say.”

Gannis