Seven Days Later II (Lyra)

[Fawn]

7th of Glade
Continuation From Here

Sun sprinkled in through the window of Fawn's countryside bedroom. It was peaceful as her eyes opened, she could smell freshly baked cinnamon rolls from downstairs. Hear chickens cooing and horses neighing outside. With a smile Fawn lifted herself from her bed, stretching her limbs towards the ceiling before throwing her legs over the edge. It didn't even feel like she was moving her legs as she sped down the hallway and stairs that led to her families kitchen, excited as she always was for fresh baked breakfast. But just as she got to the bottom of the stairs she skidded to a stop.

Blood.

Fawn's eyes shot open. Immediately the girl began coughing softly, her face cold from the stone flooring as she lifted herself up off the ground and took in her surroundings as the dream faded to the back of her mind. Clearly the violence of her day had gotten to her, though there was a knot in her stomach that wouldn't leave. Something dreadful was coming, she could feel it.

With a wince Fawn stood up slowly as the memories of her sparring came back. Naila.. Lyra... one in the same and yet completely different. She felt sick. Limping forwards from a sleepy foot, having been trapped under her awkwardly for the past three hours that she had slept on the floor, she made her way out of the storage room. She brought a hand up to her eyes to shield them from the bright sconces of the lab, and peered around the room until her gaze came to rest on Lyra at the opposite end. Sitting at a desk, scribing something and looking every bit the same as she always did. Fawn scoffed a little. Had she just left her on the ground

'Rude... why just let me lay there?' Annoyance sat on her brow as she walked forward, though she dismissed it from sheer exhaustion alone. Truthfully, she just didn't have the energy in her now. Between the days of anxiety, her poorly-ended training, and the strange dream, all she wanted now was a hot meal and good conversation. Not that she knew where to get that now, Lyra never had been the conversationalist with her.

".... Hi.." She spoke softly, coming to a stop just a few feet from her and leaning against the table. For a moment she watched her, peering over her shoulder and trying to make out whatever it was she was doing. But it wasn't in any language she could understand, and in some ways looked like a fancy childrens doodle. "What's that?"

[Lyra]

Lyra looked up as Fawn approached, looking the girl up and down before turning her eyes back on her work. It was a series of notes, some thoughts, and a list of things that needed to be done. The projects were beginning to pile up it seemed, yet more and more she began to wonder what it all was for.

"It is nothing of consequence." she said, setting her quill down and turning to face Fawn. The girl was the worse for wear. The underdress was was close to tatters, and the unwashed hair was now matted in several places with crusted red.

"I take it your first lesson went well?" It was almost a joke, and Lyra did smile ever so slightly. Standing she waved to the chair, indicating for Fawn to sit while Lyra herself moved to the long workbench. There was already a thick liquid bubbling over a flame, visible through the slightly green tinted glass of it's container.

"Was it all you had hoped for?" Lyra asked, taking the vial off the flame and setting it on a stand to cool. From a drawer she took out a roll of bandages and a pair of tongs, and she proceeded to dip the bandages into the bubbling liquid using the tongs. Looking over her shoulder, Lyra's expression was expectant.

[Fawn]

7th of Glade
Continuation From Here

Did Lyra enjoy people disliking her? Was it her goal? Unfortunately for her, Fawn wasn't the type to dislike most people, but her personality sure left much be desired. Or maybe that was just her being irritable from recent events, hell, she knew the woman was kind underneath all that... weirdness. But it seemed hard for her to show it. Fawn still planned to pull it out of her, though perhaps the 'how' was becoming more difficult.

She sighed softly. "Aye, aye." She said, blinking, unnerved at Lyra's sudden stare. "What?" She asked defensively, feeling suddenly put on the spot with her careful gaze. "Aye, as you can see I kicked her ass." She joked, raising her brow and the corner of her lip just the slightest bit. It was a hint at a smile, of something lost begging to come forth. But she turned to sit just as soon as Lyra had moved. The wish of a smile gone, and instead in it's place a look of curiosity as she pulled the torn clothing around her form. The largest rip was along the seam of the left side of the dress, nearly completely exposing her ribs and hip. The feeling of torn clothing was awful, something that had once never bothered her more than a light breeze in summer now felt disgusting and wrong. Fucking Havershim.

She steadied her mind, closing her eyes as she did. Lyra's voice pulled her from it though, and she nodded while opening her eyes. "Well, I donna ken what I hoped for... maybe I was a bit in over me own head." She said, watching the woman work. Whatever bubbled, she didn't like it. Bandages plus liquid usually only meant pain. Even if that pain was followed by healing. Perhaps now she was finally done wanting to be in pain. At least for the time being. But the actions Lyra was taking were once more those of someone kind. No, she didn't pick her up or wake her or place her in bed, but she hadn't abandoned her either. Hadn't kicked her out. And now here she was clearly making something for her wounds. But, it still looked a bit strange. "Em.. what is exactly is that?" Fawn scratched some dried blood from the bottom of her nose, the pieces flaking off and falling onto her dress. As she did, though, she hissed, quickly pulling her finger away only to bring it back and poke gently at her face.

What she hadn't noticed before was exactly how worse for ware she really was. No mirror in sight, she could still feel the swelling around her nose and eyesockets. How her lip had split at some point, leaving a long cut upon her top and bottom lips. The blood from each clearly had mixed in with the blood from her nose, and her tongue ached from having bit it mid-punch. It didn't help that her eye was sore as well, the skin around it having swollen and darkened. "Maybe I'll dodge better next time." She said, though somehow she knew most sessions would end like this. For a time.

[Lyra]

"These are bandages, dipped in a concentrated broth of horn root and blood moss. With just a bit of ichor to help with the infusion." Lyra said, glancing at the bubbling liquid, "It will help with the pain, and reduce your swelling somewhat. Though there is little I can do for the eye." she said, looking at the black eye that was steadily growing darker. "Perhaps we can bleed it in the morning."

She shrugged and leaned against the table.

The third lesson is the worst.

The third?

Yeah. Naila lounge in their soul space, picking at her nails with a bored expression, First day you are eager. Second day you hurt like hell, but you still feel motivated. Third day is when it sets in that most days will feel like shit, and there is nothing you can do to make it go by faster. That is usually when most quit, or die.

"Naila is not one who knows how to hold back." Lyra said to fawn, studying the girl's appearance once more, "She is what one might call a specialist in violence. I shall never understand it."

Lyra shook her head and walked to one of the shelves with different plants. Using a small pair of scissors she took clippings off a few, carrying them back to the workbench and laying them out one by one. She then began taking them one at a time, grinding them slowly in a bowl until they were a fine powder.

"There would be no shame in stopping here. I for one find this farce barbaric. In my experience bloodshed is a tool for the weak." Looking up from her work Lyra nodded to a shelf where another plant sat. It had long leaves tipped in purple, "Fetch me a trimming from that. Be careful not to breath in the pollen." There was another small pair of trimmers on the shelf as well.

When Fawn brought it to her Lyra would ask, "Will you continue? Naila seems to think it will only grow more difficult from here, and I doubt the usefulness of fists over more precise methods."

[Fawn]

7th of Glade
Continuation From Here

Fawn nodded along with Lyra's explanation, though part of her remained focused on the woman herself. She searched her features for any remnants of Naila. Anything that would elude to her existence other than a full 'shift' from what had happened before. Thinking about it, Fawn wondered if Telion was the only real human she'd met in the city so far.

"Ah! Yer tattoos! Naila is why they were gone that day!" She exclaimed, the sudden realization hitting her like a stampede of horses. She blinked as she shifted in the seat, wincing while she poked at her eye again to get a better idea of exactly how bad it really was. Bad. She decided, Really bad. Likely something that would keep her awake with the pain alone if not for Lyra's medicines.

"Bleed it?" She hissed. "That doesnna sound pleasant..." Fawn furrowed her brow, but she knew. She'd do it anyways, whatever would help her in the days to come. As she sat there and watched Lyra work, she pondered her predicament more fully. The past week had in a way been a blur. During each day it had felt like the torture in her mind would never end, but perhaps all she needed was an outlet. A way to feel in control again, or at least able to express her frustration and pain. Between ripping up the books and fighting Naila she felt like she'd gotten out a good portion of the emotions stirring within her, but she knew the bulk of them would not fade for a long while. Not until she could protect herself.

"And yet, somehow, ye've chosen te' keep her inside yer body? Is it some kinda soul transfer magic? I read a bit about somethin' like it in the library a few days before.." She paused, shaking the rest of the sentence away as she traced Lyra's motions to the plant. With a start she hopped up, and after moving to the shelf grabbed the trimmers and began to carefully snip a piece off it's foliage. She didn't breathe in, just as instructed, and quickly returned the snippet to Lyra after placing the clippers back where she found them.

There was something comforting about helping. Like being told everything was ok, that things could be normal, that nothing was truly broken even if harmed. She breathed a sigh of relief as she sat back down, adjusting a mat of bloodied hair over her shoulder. "Anyway, I am not one to give up. I didn't for him, and I won't for her. Or meself. But ye mentioned poison before... can I learn that too? If I could combine them, use both methods of defense and offense... I could be stronger. Don't put all yer eggs in one basket, sorta thing."

Fawn watched her work for the next few moments, listening to her response and studying the way her hand expertly ground the leaves into powders. It filled the air with a strange herbal musk, one that was both foreign and familiar, and the repetitive sound of grinding. It was meditative in a way, and Fawn grew in those moments to enjoy the quiet sound of Lyra working. And for once, felt no desire nor need to fill the silence with anything but rhythmic breathing.

[Lyra]

Lyra's motions paused when Fawn mentioned her tattoos, but she gave no confirmation or denial to the statement. The girl was sometimes frustratingly observant, despite her apparent vapid nature. This was why Lyra disliked youth. They were too flexible, too adaptive, and intuitive for their own good.

"There is no such magic." Lyra said, accepting the leaf as it was passed to her. She kept her eyes on her work, not quite avoiding looking up but it was clear that Lyra disliked the topic.

The mixture in the bowl was poured into another vessel, a pot of water that she sat on top of a flame near the corner. Lyra then began cutting the purple-tipped leaf into strips, dropping them one by one into the boiling water. When she finished she topped the pot with a lid and wiped her hands off with a cloth before looking up at Fawn. Once again she looked at the girl's appearance and grimaced.

"You will bathe tonight." The tone brokered no argument. She looked back over her shoulder at the plants on the shelves, and then at the other shelves that helped a wide variety of other objects. Glowing gems, dragonshards, books that almost hummed with knowledge. Tools and instruments of less obvious nature. It felt odd to have someone else in this place. It was deeply personal after all. This lab, represented everything Lyra had come to accomplish since she was released from her imprisonment.

"You may learn whatever you wish." the woman said finally, walking around the table and pulling up another chair to sit next to Fawn. Her eyes skimmed over the woman's injuries, and gently Lyra pressed hands on the heated flesh. What she felt made her frown deeper, though she continued to check each mark and bruise while Fawn allowed her.

"I can teach you nothing of poisons. Perhaps Naila knows of someone who can assist, or you may seek out someone on your own. I also cannot teach you of medicine, as I have a mere passing skill thanks to a certain Alchemist." Her words were neutral, but the world 'Alchemest' brought a certain fondness to Lyra's eyes that was quickly gone.

With a shake of her head, Lyra finished her inspection, resting back and crossing her legs while staring across the room with a distant look, "I see no purpose in doing what it is you are doing child. What good does it do one to fight? Why care for being stronger?" Lyra looked at Fawn then, brown furrowed, "Mortals live such short lives, filled with heights of passion and pits of despair. Why do you look for the more difficult path?"

Slowly Lyra tried to piece together what it was she was asking. It was unlike her, but ever since her visit to that creature she had been... uncertain.

"If you desire power then find it in the simplest method. Marry into the highest family, bear their children, and rule through them. If you desire flesh then find whoever you wish and take that pleasure from them. Do you wish for retribution? There are those who will do such without the need of bloodying your own hands. Why fight when others will fight for you? Twist the minds of men, use your body, your words, and your coin to have them do whatever you want. You wish for no man to take advantage of you again? Remove all of his ilk and their kin from this world, and leave ashes where their graves would have stood."

To Lyra it seemed simple. If you desired something then simply have it. Make others do the work for you, pull them together, twist them in chains they cannot escape. Make those you own love you as if you were their savior, and ensure their loyalty until the end. Weave a web that none can escape, with yourself at the center. Fighting was for those who could not do otherwise, and it was something Lyrielle in all of her centuries never understood why people did.

"Everyone has something they desire. Food, comfort, sex... Simply provide what they desire, and they are like clay to be molded." Lyra looked down at her hands where the eye-like scars peered up from her palms, "I do not understand why that man troubles you so. He did as he desired, following the basest instincts that all mortals possess. He then fell to the desires of others that were stronger than his. Now he is gone, and yet he sways you. I do not understand... What is it you truly desire? Is it to fight? Is it power? Or are these things he had made you long for?"

[Fawn]

7th of Glade
Continuation From Here

Fawn winced as if she'd been pinched. Bathing.. normally something she loved. She couldn't argue with her, but she didn't like the thought. If she back home she'd have just bathed outside, in a lake or even with a hose. But in the city, in Lyra's house, where the washrooms were tiny and the water flowed aggressively.. it didn't seem enticing anymore. The washroom was same nearly the exact size and dimensions as the cage Havershim had kept her in. And even though it had only been for a short span of time, the memory stayed with her as strongly as any. It left dread in her, dread she'd rather not face when she passed by the mirror.

But she sighed and nodded, her shoulders drooping. "Aye..."

Fawn didn't know whether it was a good thing or not that Lyra was like a tundra. Her attitude had distracted her from the panic that had set into her bones about bathing, but in its place was annoyance. At times Lyra was stable, calm, even if cold. But at other times like an ice storm that froze you from the outside until it had reached your bones. The girl sighed as she rolled her eyes.

'Fer someone so calm, she's kinda a drama queen.' She thought to herself, watching as the woman approached. At first she hesitated, unsure if she wanted the cold woman touching her, but it wasn't like she had much choice. And she was smarter than to pass up Lyra's healing after she'd already experienced it weeks ago. As Lyra worked with her skin, Fawn mused over their strange relationship. From the first day of being chastised for slamming the door, to being locked up in the top floor.. not that she knew if the door had been locked. She'd practically let herself be kept there after being distracted by books. And then the days that passed after. What they'd learned of her necklace, mainly, of which no longer dangled from her neck.

Really, anything on her neck recently- especially metal- had made her anxious. It was the first time in her life she'd kept it off for so long.

"Well, what can ye teach me? Ye clearly know somethin' that would help, else ye wouldn't be so against me doin' what I am." Fawn leaned back as well, both mirroring Lyra's movements as well as resting sore muscles from holding herself up.

"Ye see no purpose because ye've never had to, clearly. Or ye were able to find other methods. So teach me them. But donna expect me to only do as ye do." She ran a hand through her hair, though found a matt in it and winced, pulling her hand out of the grease and blood caked mess. "My life is short, aye, and I do not wish to fight if I donna have to. But if I do, I wanna be ready. Someone bent on killin' me won't stop just cause I spread me legs. And I'm not exactly high born enough to woo a noble even if I do fancy 'em." She said, though her mind flashed back to Mino. Lord Mino, in fact. She could feel the budding emotional attraction to him grow excited as she briefly considered the idea- but with a shake of her head and a bit of self chastisement, brushed it away. No. She wouldn't use him like that, even if she did have romantic feelings towards him. Plus, recently she wondered if he even wanted to be friends. And she wasn't about to confess her feelings for him anytime soon.

Fawn stared wide eyed at Lyra then, shocked at her clear lack of empathy to others. She scoffed in disbelief. "Are ye mad? Ye can't just go around harmin' or killin' people fer power. Or lyin to people for a title." She said, shaking her head. "Besides," She said, knowing that she'd not be able to convince the woman otherwise, at least yet. "If what the other desires is for me to die, or to cut out me tongue after having their way with me, simply lettin' it happen cause they want it won't keep me alive."

The girl paused then. Her eyes shifted from disbelief and frustration to confusion, thoughtfulness. She looked down at her hands and bit the inside of her lip. What was it indeed? "Well.." She started, tilting her head in thought. "I've always wanted more from life. First it was the knowledge of animals. Then it was travel, then magic. But under all that I've always taken care of my people." She glanced over bloodied fingertips that had torn themselves from the fight. "He didn't make me long for it. I always had. But he did make me realize that if I want to take care of my people I haf'ta take care of meself. And if I canna even fight off one clumsy noble, then how am I supposed to protect the ones I care for?"

Looking back, he truly had been clumsy. Not only that but his history laid out in Lyra's books didn't mention anything of his magic ability. In fact it had only listed his failure. So there she had been, completely taken over by a talentless noble.

"Have ye never cared for someone enough to want to protect them?" She asked, her eyes then meeting Lyra's. She searched in there, for some spec or hint or ghost of recognition.

[Lyra]

You should really drop it. Naila said. She sat cross-legged on top of her soul gem, playing with a dagger in her fingers, You said it yourself, you can't understand her even if you empathize. For as old as you say you are, it is like you never lived at all.

Lyra wondered at that. She watched fawn curiously as she traveled through her range of emotions. Hints of bitterness and pain, followed by flagging affection and once more into that deepness that was so difficult for most to draw themselves from. A vast sea of emotions with tides that pulled and drug one under at the most unexpected times, foam-capped waves lashing suffocating fingers down one's throat as the air was impossible to capture as one bobbed and struggled in the turbulence. The symphonies were a beautiful thing, yet as difficult at times to untangle as hair caught in a loom.

"Have I?" Lyra asked, the question not directed at Fawn. She puzzled over it for a time, a frown creasing her brow as she searched her thoughts, her mind. There had been someone hadn't there... Surely there was. A vague image of someone, a smile, and then something broken. Lyra absently touched her temple, thoughtful as she continued to think. She seemed to remember something, just barely out of reach.

"Perhaps I have... No, I am certain there was someone." Lyra nodded slowly, a bit more confident as she continued to speak, "Long, long ago. Very few deal with the Soulless you see, and so she was special." For a brief moment Lyra forgot Fawn was there as she emersed herself more and more in her thoughts. She dug through the holes, finding as many scraps of memory as she could to steadily piece together a picture.

"In those days one did not choose what they were, despite freedom being far more than what it is now. She was a light in a grey world..." Frown deepening Lyra squinted, tilting her head slightly, "She was taken. I was taken. Something was done..."

Despite herself, Lyra felt a welling of emotion she had not expected, but with an iron will she tamped it down. She could not keep the sudden burning hatred out of her eyes though as she stared at the floor, shoulders tensing as her eyes flicked back and forth as if following an elusive thought, "It failed. The blood of kin was shed, and the false gods chose then to cackle at the broken shards of mortals that were left. Flames danced as souls burned, the stench of scorched meat filled the air like it was a festival day." her words faded to a whisper as Lyra stood, looking down at her hands before turning to stare at Fawn, the heat of rage from ages past burning in her eyes as she stared through the girl.

"Yes... yes, that day the people did as they desired and took someone who did not deserve it. So I did as I desired." Blinking she came to herself, the white-hot memory fading once more like water through her fingers. Lyra looked down at her hands, confused as she clenched her fist over and over again.

"What can I teach you?" the question stood in the air for several long seconds while Lyra continued to look at her hands, "Those who wish to kill you can still be swayed. The nature of your birth has no bearing on who you may claim. Highborn," at that Lyra laughed, sharp bark of derision as she shook her head, "Blood is just blood. The true Highborn are dead. Yes... they are dead." That made Lyra smile, but again she shook her head and wiped the expression from her features.

Then Lyra seemed lost, and she glanced around herself before sitting down once more with a sigh.

"What can I teach you?" Lyra repeated, a bit of her composure returning in measures. Yes, she was not herself.

"Do you know the story of Lyrielle, the Lady of Whispers?" Lyra asked suddenly, looking at Fawn with a curious expression.

[Fawn]

7th of Glade
Continuation From Here

Fawn did not break Lyra's gaze. The woman was mysterious, in pain, the kind that sits with you so long you don't realize you've become it because it no longer has the energy to be anything but numb. At least that's what Fawn thought she saw in the woman's eyes. Would that be who Fawn would turn in to if she let Havershims control sit with her, consume her? She knew at least she had a future now that he was dead, but how much hardship had the woman gone through to become like that?

Fawn leaned back in her chair as Lyra began to speak. Her words flowed like a river, smooth, quiet, but so important you'd strain to hear the details of the water trickling off riverrocks. The woman seemed to float back into her words and by the time she was finished, Fawn realized she'd been leaning forward and had both hands knotted together in front of her lips. She didn't think it right to respond to any of it. To think that there had been people so cruel as to laugh at the pain of others, to destroy souls no less.

It sent an ache to her own.

Perhaps this woman could not teach her anything. But the emotion that stirred within her eyes could not be feigned, and the briefest of twitches of the woman's lip as she had retold her history had told Fawn that yes, kindness did dwell in the woman. She'd thought it before, but now she was sure. Unkind people did not care for the suffering of others, and while Lyra's view may be clouded and harsh that did not mean she did not have a seed of hope and love in her somewhere. Perhaps it just had not been allowed to grow.

Fawn blinked at her question. "Lyrielle..." She repeated, her eyes searching the others. When she spoke it her voice was soft, repeating the name as if she already knew what was to be said, who she was, as if addressing her. "I don'na believe I have." She said, brow contorting in confusion. "I've heard many stories, but none with that name." Fawn paused, her stare unshaken as she spoke the next truth simply.

"That's you, isn't it?" Her bones felt cold. She didn't know why she knew, but she did. It wasn't just similarity to what the woman called herself now, but something else that pulled through the threshold of her mind and soul.

[Lyra]

Lyra didn't reply. She couldn't reply. This girl was simply that, a girl. True others knew, but they were queens and gods, resistant, defiant of what that claim really meant. This girl, this child though... She would not be able to bear the weight of that statement. Rather Lyra for some reason did not wish to do what she knew she would have to if she were to answer.

"Lyrielle tu Kovash Elmari." Lyra said quietly, tilting her head and searching Fawn's face, "Perhaps that name is lost to history. It would be fitting. None know the names of their madness."

She did not acknowledge, nor did she deny. When she looked away the woman felt thoughtful, contemplative as her back straightened and she crossed her legs once more. Things had been so very odd of late. The cracks, the gaps were beginning to grow wide, more obvious. The mad knew they were mad. The insane, however, convinced themselves they were only mad. Where on that tilting scale did she sit now?

"In a time long since past there was an empire that stretched from one corner of the world to the next." She felt somewhat calm as she said these words, beginning a story that Lyra had thought would be common, yet time was cruel and unforgiving to its relics. Holding up a hand, palm up, Lyra traced the scars there as she continued, "It was an empire of hubris, ruled by the vain and rotting from the inside despite the gold plating. Eventually, that rot caused a Scism. Those who desired what was lost began to reject those who wished to accept what had become, and there was war. In the midst of this was when Lyrielle came alive."

Black smoke began to collect on Lyra's palm, flowing through her fingers and falling to the floor. With one finger she spun the smoke, and it responded to her prodding, rising in small spirals at the end of her nail, "The Voice of Madness, Temptress, the Siren, the Broken Doll." The smoke collected and condensed, forming vague shapes like twisting faces and images as if to match the words Lyra spoke, "King Breaker, The Lady of Whispers. She had many names, most she forgot for she was old even before this war. The Shadows of Fear spoke to her, collected her broken mind, and glued them together with promises and painful reminders. Lyrielle sang her song in the hearts of the old empire, breaking bonds and twisting families upon one another. At her whim, the most devote turned to sensational pleasures and perverse machinations. She reveled in it. Fed upon it, spread her whispers into the minds and souls of all she touched."

The smoke writhed suddenly, a figure of a woman with flowing hair appearing just as a sword ran her through. Chains of smoke lashed at her, and began ripping her body apart piece by piece until a small fragment remained that was quickly encapsulated and crushed in Lyra's clenched fist, "The war escalated, and finally she and those of her ilk were broken, their pieces scattered and Lyrielle tu Kovash Elmari was sealed away."

The smoke began to fade where it collected on the floor and Lyra looked up at Fawn and raised an eyebrow, "Tell me, what would you desire to learn from one such as her?"