Topic: The Adventures of Kith, the Cat, and the Khatun
Subject: Little Kithran Pt. 4 of 5 Loyalty and Fate
7th Day, Olemra, 437 E.R., Calestra, Coria, the Wintergate
“Why are you staring at me? Stop it.”
Kithran tilted her head forward and raised her eyebrows at the lovely white flower in his lapel.
Castien lowered his gaze to the object of hers, “Oh,” he scoffed, “your ridiculous traditions.” He tapped the silly thing as they wandered outside the city walls, “Cinderfell’s eldest, Brevin, thought it was only fitting that I, as a ‘dutiful Corian’, honor this thing you people do in which you wear these wedding flowers--”
“Marriage Blossoms, yes,” she interrupted, her black eyes bright with laughter.
“--until you find your mate or some such. And then when you do you swap it out for that braid thing--”
“Star’s Light, Castien, that’s right.”
He sighed, “Ridiculous.”
“Well, I think it’s marvelous. You’re a true Corian, through and through, aren’t you?” He glared down at her but her teasing grin never wavered, “You are taking orders from Lord Brevin now?”
Castien shrugged, “Cinderfell’s orders.”
Kithran looked off into the forest ahead, "I've heard that where the father is cruel, the son is, what was the word . . . sadistic. How has that been?"
The young Sylvari's face scrunched, "I wish you would not say things like that around me. I have to tell them these things, you know? They could deny my requests to spend time with you."
Kithran’s stomach fluttered briefly and she took a moment to reply, “You don’t have to tell them, Castien, it is very easy not to tell anyone anything.”
He narrowed his eyes at her back as she lead him along, “I’ve seen various versions of what accounts for loyalty among your people, but to Sylvari there is only one meaning.” He sighed, "When Lord Cinderfell saved my life, I pledged it to their family, I will be theirs for each of the centuries that lie before me, and I will not waver in my resolve or my loyalty."
She shook her head at his bravado, "That is such a long time," Kithran turned off the main road and lead him down a much smaller path that she and the Lovers would sometimes take in order to discuss their next adventure. "Was moving you into Lord Brevin's charge your punishment for letting me go?"
Castien groaned, "I definitely wish you would not bring that up--" he dodged a branch she had let go of too soon and glared at the impish look on her face before she turned and carried on down the path. "To answer you though, yes and no. It was my first infraction in my ten years of service and thus a harsh and unexpected betrayal. I received some physical punishment-" Kithran spun around, her eyes wide and an apology on her lips, but he waved her away, "It was not all that terrible, but it was not the end. He could not think of anything awful enough for my real punishment, so I am in service to Brevin until he decides what he wants to do to me."
Kithran turned to him when they made the small clearing and grabbed his arm, "Castien, I am so sorry."
"What for? Stealing a wine stopper as a cute little girl so that five years down the line I would be less inclined to submit you to a Cinderfell indictment?"
"Well, no." She smirked and let go of him to dig into one of the many pockets she had sewn into her yellow dress, pulling the old, dull Shinara stopper out, "I'd probably do that again-HEY!"
He snatched it out of her hand before she could react and held it up to his face, dodging her as she tried to swipe it back, "I can't believe you still carry this thing around. What else do you have in those old pockets?" He handed the trinket back to her.
"My pockets are not old, Castien," she grumbled as she put the stopper back, "Because of that stopper I met Tara and you."
He grasped at his heart dramatically, "I’m touched! But you avoided me for five years so I can only assume it is Tara that little thing holds any real sentiment for," he raised his voice to a comically higher pitch, “daaaarling.”
Kithran made to shove him but he dodged away, drawing one of his daggers and thrusting it at her, stopping a few inches from her face, "You may be quick with your little fingers, Kithy, but you'll have to work a lot harder to out-pace me in anything else." She rolled her eyes and he stood up, flipping the blade and catching it by the tip, handing the leather-wrapped handle out to her. "Ready to begin?" He asked as she took the blade from his hand.
It was heavier than she had expected, but nothing she couldn't handle, not like Serena’s broadsword or even Danmar’s dual shortswords. The leather wrapped around the handle was hard, and molded into the shape of Castien's grasp. The blade itself was long and razor sharp, with an unfamiliar script that ran down the middle. She pointed it out to him, "Is this Sylvari? What does it say?"
"Ah, can't even read Sylvari? Do you parents not love you or something?"
"I am only half-Sylvari, and I live in a temple. So no, I don’t think they do."
"Oh, ah, sorry." He mumbled and moved up to her, running his finger along the elegant lettering, "This one says 'Debts Paid," he pulled out the other for her, "this one 'Debts Owed'. Rather on the nose, but that is what accounts for poetry among the Cinderfell lot."
Kithran chuckled, “So you are able to insult them, then? Won’t you need to report yourself? What will you do if they deny your requests to play with yoursel--” she stopped abruptly and looked away, feeling her face flush with color.
“Kithran!” Castien burst into laughter, patting the embarrassed girl’s shoulder as he doubled over, “Oh, oh gods, no wonder Tara keeps you around, she’s going to love that one.” Her mouth tightened at the comment, but she still could not look at him. “Oh my, incredible.” He was still chuckling as he straightened back up, “Whew, what were we talking about? Oh yes, your wildly inappropriate remarks aside, the Cinderfells would not consider a slight to their poetic abilities an insult.”
Kithran finally looked back at him, her pale face more pink now than red, “Really? What do they do for music?”
“Music?” He shrugged, his mouth still curled up in a smirk, “They will hire folk for parties, but they do not partake of their own volition, sadly, it is the only Corian trait I admire.”
The half-Syl’s face scrunched in disgust, “Then they are not Corians. You are more Corian than they are.”
“Absolutely never say that again. I would rather you say shocking things about my sexual life than say that.” Kithran’s face jerked away from his again and he barked back into laughter.
“Can we just stab things, please?” She grumbled and Castien regained a hold of himself.
"My pleasure, m'lady." He patted her shoulder again and stepped back, drawing his blade and once again finding his composure, “Mirror my stance.” He waited for her to fall into place and nodded his approval, “Hmm, good, let’s begin.”
* * *
“Hi Tara.”
“Hi Castien,” the maiden replied into Kithran’s thick black hair, hugging her ward in front of the Long Gamble after the girl had been off playing with knives all day. She finally held her back at arms’ length to inspect her, “How are you? How did you do? No new holes I hope?”
Kithran kept her blood-caked fists tight at her sides as she beamed and shook her head back up at her blonde mentor, “It was so much fun, Tara! Cast showed me how to hold a dagger, different stances, strikes, all kinds of things!”
Castien walked up beside her and grasped the wrist of one of her clenched fists, raising it up, “You’ll want to have one of your healers look at her hands.” Kithran glared at him to no avail, “She kept trying to flip the blades and catch them, or try some strange over-the-shoulder or under-the-leg tricks while I wasn’t looking, even though I told her multiple times to stop. She cut her hands up fairly badly every single time.”
Tara narrowed her eyes at the girl, “Let me see, darling.”
As Castien was holding her hand right in front of Tara’s face, there was no hiding the dried blood that streaked down the outside of her fists now. She opened the hand to reveal several painful cuts, some that would need either stitching or a cleric’s hand soon.
The maiden sighed, “Come along then.” She took Kithran’s arm from the Sylvari boy and headed into the loud hall, calling out behind her above the noise of the crowd, “You’re welcome to join us for supper, Castien, this will take but a moment.”
The young, red-haired Sylvari hesitated as they disappeared into the temple and gambling hall. It was getting on in the day and he would be due back to the Cinderfell estate, but surely he had a little time to spare? He moved into the crowded hall, dodging drinks and bodies as they flew past. Maybe he wouldn’t be able to finish his entire meal, but Tara had invited him to eat with her. Beautiful, kind, witty Tara. When would he get such an opportunity again?
Castien scanned the room. At fifteen he was average height for a Sylavari of his age, but already slightly taller than the average human. Regardless, his moment of hesitation had given them just enough time to completely disappear from his sight.
He groaned in frustration--that a gambling hall could also be a temple was beyond him, even if it was for a luck goddess. And tonight the crowd was dense. He was about to turn back and leave when a tug at his arm turned him to face the half-Sylvari grin of his little friend. Kithran held up her now wound-less hands, wriggling her fingers in his face before turning and hopping to the side of the room through the crowd. Castien managed to keep up until finally he was following her through a thin hallway on the west side of the temple.
The music and chatter began to muffle and Kithran slowed down, “Have you ever been to the Long Gamble before, Castien?”
He shook his shaggy orange head at her back, “No. I’ve walked by on several occasions, but have never had the pleasure of being tossed about inside.”
Kithran snickered, “I suppose it does take some getting used to. I was only seven when I started coming here, so I had to learn quickly how to avoid getting trampled on out there when Tara wasn’t around for piggy-back rides. I’ve had five years of experience now, so if you’re ever in trouble, just cry out for me and I will come save you.”
“How valiant of you.” He smirked at the small shoulders shrugging in front of him before the hallway opened up into a small, dimly lit room, where Tara awaited them with their meals.
* * *
Their days passed on mostly like this when Castien was allowed to train with Kithran. Tara would accompany Kithran to the Cinderfell stall in the marketplace in the morning, Castien and Kithran would run off to throw knives around in the forest, return to the Laughing Gamble and have supper with Tara, then Castien would leave and Tara would tease Kithran about her crush on the silly Sylvari boy.
On the days Castien was preoccupied with Cinderfell work, Tara would take Kithran out to better her thieving skills. Kithran would swipe more and more bold items in more conspicuous settings, attempt to keep them from Tara using tricks the maiden had taught her as well, and once Tara inevitably retrieved the items, she would return them without anyone being the wiser. The latter was often more difficult than the former, in Kithran’s opinion, as many times the original owner would be furious looking for what was lost, so it would take more than just swiping something quickly. However, Tara was a force when it came to this part; whether by her ability to divert gaze, her incredibly fast hands, or her irresistible charm, she always succeeded.
Randel would be returning in a couple days, and while Kithran was excited to tell him most of her adventures with Tara, she grew more and more sad each day that their routine would soon be broken. The maidens reassured her that once she was a little older, she would be more-than-welcome to join their traveling fold--even Esme expressed some excitement at the idea, and the offer felt like an embrace to Kithran.
Tara was of course ecstatic for her growing interest in the Laughing Maidens over the Lovers of Fortune. She just hoped the girl would be able to keep her resolve over the next year or so that she would be away. She really wanted to tell her before Randel returned so that the girl would have some time to be upset with her before coming around. At least then they could enjoy their last few days together before parting.
Kithran was flipping a wooden dagger around Tara’s room while the maiden prepared the bed the night she decided to tell her. The fake but still very hard toy had just crushed one of the girl’s toes when Tara told her to have a seat on the bed. The half-Syl sat, curious why her mentor seemed so uncharacteristically uneasy, but also sorely distracted trying to rub the pain out of her foot.
Tara let out a long breath and crossed her arms, then dropped them and clasped her hands together in front of her, “Alright, well, darling, as you must know, the maidens and I will be off soon . . . .”
Kithran’s face fell and she let her foot drop.
The blonde maiden’s arms crossed again and then she clasped her hands together again, this time behind her, “And I am sorry but we will be gone for a very long time, I can’t imagine it being less than a . . . a year--” the girl's mouth fell open and Tara could see she was about to protest, but she held her hands out in front of her to stop her as she sped quickly ahead, “but this is for me, Kithran. We are going to Sendria. You know my story, as do my friends, and they’ve agreed to help me find some, some retribution with my . . . offenders.” The thought alone caused her breath to quicken once again and Tara looked away from the girl as she tried once more to regain her composure. She wrung her hands in front of her now as she looked up to the ceiling, trying to stay where she was with Kithran, and not sink back into that headspace of her youth, “It’s just . . . there are some very powerful people we will need to . . . so it’s just going to take a long time. And I don’t want to be away from you for so long either, but it’s ju-”
Tara was stopped by her young ward as the girl barreled into her, hugging her and crying into her gown, “You have to go, Tara. I don’t want you to go but you have to go. I’ll be waiting for you here, I promise.”
“Oh, darling,” Tara wrapped her arms around the girl as relief washed over her, “thank you for understanding. I love you so much, Kithran. I’ll be as quick as possible so I can come back to you as fast as I can.”
“I love you too, Tara,” the girl mumbled into her chest.
And both cried themselves out of sadness, grief, and acceptance, and into exhaustion.
16th Day, Olemra, 437 E.R., Calestra, Coria, the Market
This would be the last day Kithran would be able to train with Castien before her father arrived. She would have this day with Castien, one last full day with Tara, and then her father would return and Tara and the maidens would begin the preparations for their trip to the north. Their routine would be changing a little, as Kithran was sure her father would not approve of her running off to the woods to knife-fight with with an unwaveringly loyal Cinderfell servant every few days.
Castien didn’t know of Kithran’s father or that she did not really live at the Long Gamble. The topic had almost been broached once, but the Sylvari boy had stopped her, insinuating that it was likely much better for her and for him to just go on believing what he did of her origins.
Tara and Kithran arrived as they normally did that morning around when Castien finished up helping to setup the Cinderfell stall. They were stopped however, just as they were about to approach the boy by a dashing man, his dark hair stylishly messy, and his meticulously stubbled face jovial as he intercepted them.
“Ah, so this is them, Castien? The breath-taking women you’ve been spending all of your free time with? I see it now.” He winked teasingly at the two in their matching red dresses.
Castien turned around at his name, his lips tight as the young Cinderfell spoke of them, but relaxing as he approached, “Lord Brevin, this is Tara, a Laughing Maiden of Shinara, and Kithran, her ward and my dagger-wielding apprententice.”
Brevin chuckled has he grasped the ladies’ hands and kissed them both, “A pleasure to meet you both, truly. Castien had mentioned you two were beautiful, but he could not do you justice.”
Castien and Kithran simultaneously felt the color rise in their cheeks, but Tara’s jaw tightened before she replied, “The pleasure is all ours, Lord Brevin, your father’s wine has brought much laughter to our maidens over the years, and in fact I am here to try to clear you out before our next venture. Perhaps we can let these two scamper off while we talk some business?” She asked, attempting to allow her ward and the boy to flee while they could.
Lord Brevin rolled his eyes before shooing the younger duo away, “Ah, business, always business. Alright, off you two, the adults must talk.” He gave Tara a bright grin as Castien and Kithran began to wade into the growing crowds.
“Wait,” Tara bound over to Kithran and took her face into her hands, forcing the glaring girl to look her in the eyes, “what did I tell you?”
Kithran groaned as the two men stared at them in amusement, “Tara . . . . ”
The maiden did not relent, “This is the only way I feel as though you’ve actually heard me, Kithran, now go on.”
The girl sighed, “Do not try to kick the dagger up from the ground and catch it.”
“And why’s that?”
“Because the last time I tried it stuck into my chin."
"How far?"
"Way too far.”
“And?”
“And Serah said if it happened again she would have Esme magically put you to sleep and have Serena chop all of your hair off with her giant sword.”
"Exactly," Tara grinned and squished the girl’s cheeks together before kissing her on her forehead, and Kithran jerked her head away, “Goodbye darling!”
“Bye Tara,” Kithran grumbled before turning her glare on the laughing Sylvari and joining him to disappear into the crowd.
Tara turned back to the handsome, wide grin of Lord Brevin’s and forced the smile to stay on her face as they began their transaction. Having pooled the funds of several of the interested maidens, Tara had some leverage as they haggled and was able to get quite a fair price for all that they would be purchasing. They arranged a time for someone from the temple to come retrieve all of the bottles and the maiden began her goodbyes as she finally, gratefully able to leave the Cinderfell’s smarmy presence.
“Oh, just a moment,” Brevin called out as the beautiful maiden rushed away, stopping her in her tracks. He ran up to her, tall and lovely for sure, but with an air and a reputation Tara was not looking forward to disappointing. However, he had that look in his eyes, and she knew what would be coming.
He stopped uncomfortably close to her, but she held her ground as he leaned down and spoke low, close to her ear, “I was hoping we could do a little more business?”
She kept herself from rolling her eyes, but leaned away from him, smiling politely, “That is very gracious of you, Lord Brevin, but I am afraid we are just not interested in anymore of your wares.”
He chuckled, “No, your ward, I would very much like to speak with her in private sometime.”
Tara went cold and it was all she could do to not let her face twist into a sneer or tear his throat out where he stood as she replied, “Excuse me?”
He held his hands up in innocence as he laughed, “Don’t get me wrong! I am more than ready and willing to offer any sort of compensation you deem to be fitting for her time. Any. I know I have a reputation of sorts, but I can assure you that they are all exaggerations. I am very kind, very gentle. She will be in good hands.”
“Is that so?” The rage Tara felt was rivaled only by that which she felt during the attack on the road. It twisted inside her stomach and threatened to draw her blades, slaughtering him right there in the street. Somehow the cold that took her heart also allowed her to press a smile onto her face as she asked him, “Would you mind if we spoke about this in a less conspicuous place?”
His own smile was filled with relief, “Yes of course, where are my manners? Thank you, Maiden, we should have some privacy behind the stall to discuss terms.”
Terms. Tara nodded as she followed the monstrosity before her.
Hidden from the eyes and ears of the crowd, Lord Brevin turned back to her, his eager smile immediately dissipating as Tara kicked him into the wall and jerked the blades out of her sleeves. Before he could reach for his own sword, the maiden had a knife digging at his neck and one breaking through his shirt at his stomach.
“Don’t you ever speak another word to me or my girl. If I find out you have or that you have done anything thing to touch, harm, or even so much as breathe in her direction, I will rip out your vocal chords so that you will not even be able to whimper as I flay you inch by disgusting inch. Do I make myself clear?”
He glared at her, rage burning in his own eyes, but nodded at her threats.
Tara nicked his neck with her blade, as she swiftly jumped away, sinking back into the crowd.
* * *
Castien sighed as they made their way back through the woods, "Stop staring at it, Kith, I told you that I didn't want to talk about it."
"But it's Star's Light, Castien," she said, unable to drop the grin that had become nearly painful as she looked from his face to the braided flower that replaced the Marriage Blossom, "This must be serious."
He looked up to the sky, "I knew I shouldn't have worn this. You were useless with how distracted you were by it all day."
"Then why did you wear it?"
"I told you, it's that stupid tradition of yours that Brevin wants me to follow."
She raised her eyebrows, "So you've 'found your mate or some such'?"
"I . . . well I'm . . . " he sighed, "I'm not going to talk about it Kithran."
"I understand completely, Cast, but who is it?"
“You are so persistent.” He shook his messy red head in refusal. He liked the goofy half-Syl girl. She was fun, easy to talk to, a fast learner, and clever to boot, but she was no Tara. It was clear she taken some liking to him though, and he didn’t want to hurt her feelings, so for now there was no way he was going to tell her he was not in love with her but with her mentor.
“So I’ve been told,” She was unable to drop the happy grin from her face as she finally looked away and the two exited the cover of the forest. They had to stop early because Kithran truly could not concentrate with the braid on her mind all day. She was missing steps, holding the handles wrong, and couldn’t even stick the blade into a tree. These had all been hurdles she had overcome in her first few days. Now all should could think about was who Castien had switched the flowers out for.
“Do they know? Did they put in the Star’s Light for you as well?”
“No, maybe they know, so yes? But I don’t think so. And they don’t wear . . . the flower.” Like the girl’s smile, his guilt somehow grew along with his frustration.
“A moment, sir,” a young man in the Cinderfell livery approached Castien and Kithran as they walked back through the Wintergate and into the city, “Lord Brevin has asked that you join him the moment you re-enter the city.”
Kithran looked between the two young men, “What? No," she implored, already sure of what his answer would be, "this is going to be the last dinner we have all together! Castien, you have to go!”
He gave the servant a curt nod and put a hand on Kithran’s shoulder, “It’s alright, Kith, we’ll have supper another time. Let Tara know I am sorry I couldn’t join tonight. I will try to see her before she leaves though to say goodbye. Bye Kith!” He said as he jogged off in the direction of the Cinderfell estate.
“Goodbye Castien,” she called to his back, as he disappeared.
17th Day, Olemra, 437 E.R., Calestra, Coria
Tara awoke the way she had become accustomed to over the course of the last few weeks: the sun warming her room, and a little dark-haired half-Sylvari girl attached to her stomach, drooling through her nightgown. Per her routine, Tara would gently peel the girl off and prepare herself for the day--whether that meant conspiring with Serah for Shinara lessons, conspiring against the townsfolk for thieving lessons, or finding something or someone to bide her time with until Kithran got back from her dagger lessons with Castien.
Today would be different, however, as it would be their last day together before Randel returned and took his daughter back to her normal life. She sighed, thinking of the unreasonable emptiness she would feel again without her kid around. Sure she would have her family of maidens alongside her, but they fulfilled a different space in her life--a different emptiness would be felt without them. She ran her fingers through the girl’s thick black hair. Kithran was who Tara wished she could have been at that age: strong-willed, clever, so smart, and just so happy. Even when Kithran was red with anger, it would not last long, and she was off again to frolic in whatever mischief placed itself in front of her.
Tara had not been so lucky, but the thought that she was making moves to rectify the horror that had been done to her and so many others, and to perhaps save countless children from also succumbing to it, that brought her hope. There was a sense of relief and contentment ahead of her, she could feel it. It would take the next year or so to reach it, but once she did, once she had rid all of Audalis of those who had destroyed her body and soul at so young an age, then she could obtain it. She would come back and Kithran would probably be nearly as tall as she was, stealing things from her with her refined talents, and kicking daggers up and catching them without stabbing herself or having Serah chop off all of Tara’s hair.
She smiled. She would stay with her then until Kithran was ready to begin traveling. She could be the mother figure Kithran needed and wanted so badly for her to be--who she so badly needed and wanted to be for her.
The girl rustled as Tara pushed the hair out of her face and her eyes fluttered open, “Tara?”
“Good morning, darling.”
Kithran smiled and searched for a dry spot on Tara’s gown she could wipe more drool off her face with, “You’re usually getting ready by now.”
She gave the girl a squeeze, “Yes, but I told you that today would be up to you. It’s our last full day together, did you decide what we would be doing? Shall we go steal from some unsuspecting people? Shall I show you what happens to Serena when you pretend you’re about to toss her blade into the fire? Take more of Esme’s apples? What did you have in mind?”
* * *
The maiden and her ward fled on horseback, their damp hair and undergarments whipping against them as they raced to find cover, and to put as much space between them and the monks who chased them away from the Lake of Heroes. Apparently it was too serene a place for the ruckus the two young women had created while splashing around, being rambunctious, and jumping from too high of heights to possibly be safe, into the lake. They had tried to avoid those meditating near the revered space, but the monks kept shooing them off, until finally they pulled together a large group to chase off the unclad troublemakers.
When there were a couple miles between them, Tara beckoned Kithran to follow her off the main path and into a clearing where they would be blocked from the road and could enjoy their lunches in their undergarments in peace. Afterward they lay back and let the sun finish drying them as they talked about little things and silly things, and everything they could in order to avoid the big things. Until finally, they did talk about the big things, and wept briefly before falling asleep for a nap.
* * *
“I don’t want to go to sleep, Tara!” Kithran whined as she threw her nightgown over her head.
“I don’t want to either, darling, but alas, we must.” Tara flipped the blanket up, her own nightgown flitting about her, and let the thin blanket float down to the bed as she prepared it.
“But I don’t want to,” she grumbled again, “Everything is going to be different tomorrow. I want it to stay like it is forever.”
The maiden stopped in her making of the bed and turned to the girl, “I know, Kithran, and it will someday, we just have to do some work to get there.”
“What if we just stayed up all night?” she bargained, “If we sleep, tomorrow will come faster, but if we don’t sleep, it’ll go slower, and it’ll be like we have more time together!”
Tara smiled, seeing the sleep in the girl’s eyes and knowing she’d likely not last thirty minutes once her head hit Tara’s stomach, “I can’t argue with that logic I suppose, Kithran.”
Her dark eyes lit up, “So we’re staying up?!”
“Yes.”
“Yes!” the girl jumped in excitement and ran at Tara. The maiden was well-versed in these aggressive hugs now and braced herself for the impact so she wouldn’t be taken out this time. Kithran looked up at her, “Oh guess what, I can do the kicking-the-knife-up-and-catching-it trick now!”
Tara held the girl at arm’s length and narrowed her eyes at her, “What?! What did I say?! Do you want Serena to chop all of my hair off or something?”
Kithran pushed her hands away, still smiling, “No, I just didn’t listen to you.”
“Clearly, darling, did you at least perfect the technique?”
Her grin widened in pride, “Yes!”
“Thank goodness.”
“Want to see?”
“Of course I want to see, but it will have to wait.”
Kithran’s face scrunched, “I want to show you now. What if we don’t have time in the morning?”
Tara sighed, “I don’t know what you expect me to do. You know Serah takes them away from you and locks them in her room the moment you return with Castien. She has not trusted us since the chin incident.”
“I don’t think she’s trusted us since the barf incident.”
The maiden laughed, “Honestly, if she ever trusted us she’s a fool.”
Kithran’s eyes lit up, “I will steal the daggers from Serah’s room!”
Tara groaned, “Oh, oh no. What have I created?”
The mischievous little half-Syl ran for the door with a mischievous little grin on her face, “It’ll be like a final test!”
Tara shook her head, but her grin of approval gave her away, “Alright darling. If you are able to pull this off, we’ll entice some more pacifist monks into acts of aggression against us in the morning before your father arrives.”
Kithran laughed in the doorway, “Bye Tara!”
“Goodbye darling, good luck!”
The girl scoffed, and in her best Tara impression replied, “Fortune favors who it favors, darling,” and she closed the door on the maiden’s laughter.
Tara was still chuckling as she went back to making the bed for them, though hardly a minute seemed to go by before she heard the doorknob turn and the door softly swing open once more.
There was already laughter in her voice as she began to spin back around, “Oh, successful already, dar--” she gasped, as something punched her unexpectedly in her gut. She looked down, her legs feeling weak beneath her as she stared for a moment in confusion at the leather-wrapped blade handle sticking out of her stomach. A soft cry escaped her as a second joined it, and Tara looked up at the red-haired Sylvari boy racing toward her as she fell back onto the bed.
She tried to control her quickening breath as the pain began to course through her body, and in a moment her legs were lifted on to the bed and Castien sat hastily beside her, tears falling down his face, “Castien?”
“I’m sorry, Tara, I’m so sorry!” he stroked the hair from her face as he pleaded with her, “Brevin, Brevin made me, I didn’t want this--I love you Tara, oh gods, I am so sorry!”
Tara tilted her head back and could feel her body beginning to fade away from her. Tears started to fall from her own eyes as her mind was flooded only with Kithran. She looked up at the boy, “Castien, you have to protect her for me, okay? I . . . I won’t be able to now. I was supposed to be here for her . . . but now . . . now . . . Protect her, Castien, promise me. Please.”
He tried to wipe the tears from his eyes but they fell relentlessly, “Yes, Tara, I promise.”
“Thank you.” She turned her head to the door, willing it to open, willing to see her grin one last time, hug her one last time. “I wish she were here.”
Castien looked down at the blade handles sticking out of the beautiful, kind, witty Tara, “No you don’t, Tara, not like this.”
A small, sad smile touched the corner of her mouth as her eyes stayed staring at the door and her breathing slowed, “Yes I do.”
And then Tara was gone.
Castien cried silently to himself as he pulled the blades from the maiden’s torso, wiping her blood onto his pant leg and resheathing them on either hip. He couldn’t seem to move away from her. He had to, but he couldn’t. He had killed her.
"Bye Tara."
Soon, the patter of feet on stone sounded down the hall and he stood up. He took one last look at her before making his way to the window, getting halfway out when the glittering of something caught his eye on the desk beside the sill--a dragonfly pin.
There was a clatter just outside the room and Castien heard Kithran cursing as she lifted the item back up. He swiped the pin and jumped through the window, closing it just as the door to the room swing violently open, and Kithran called out to her mentor.
“Tara!” Kithran was grinning, “I did it! Serah didn’t even--” the daggers fell to the ground beside her, “Tara?” she stepped forward slowly, unable to comprehend what she was seeing, but as she approached her blonde, happy, silly, bloody Tara, she screamed. She screamed and cried, and could not stop screaming even as the other maidens and temple attendants flooded into the room.
It took both Serah and Esme to wrench the girl free of Tara, though none of them could accept what they saw. The other maidens and the older Lovers fled the room in search of whoever had done this to their little thief.
Kithran punched, clawed, and bit relentlessly at the maidens holding her until she slipped from their fingers and launched herself back at Serah. She yanked at the young maiden’s gown until she could reach her collar and forced the healer’s tear-streaked face into her own.
“What are you doing?!” Kithran screamed, “Fix her!”
“Kithran,” she sobbed, glancing at her lifeless friend as the acolytes began trying to force them all out of the room, “I-I can’t. She’s already gone. She . . . I can’t Kithran, I’m sorry.” She made to hug the girl, but Kithran punched her in the jaw and shoved her away, “Then what use are you?!”
The acolytes reached Kithran but she dodged around them, “What use are any of you?!” Before anyone could catch her, she slipped through them and hopped onto the bed, throwing the blankets over her and Tara so it was just the two of them again. She rested her head on the maiden’s stomach, as she always did, just above her wounds, wrapping her arm around her, and cried.
18th Day, Olemra, 437 E.R., Calestra, Coria
Randel Aldeath had never seen the Long Gamble so morose. The gambling hall was open, but the tables were much quieter than he could ever remember them being. As he entered and began to make his way up the series of stairs to the maidens’ quarters, an attendant approached him as if she were waiting for him, and pulled him into one of the smaller chambers near the tables. A moment later the door flew open as Randel rushed out in search of his daughter.
He found Kithran in another small chamber, lost down a series of halls that lead to a room filled with flowers, incense, candles, wreaths, and other things irrelevant to the black-clad girl draped across the lovely box amongst it all. The young maiden cleric stood just outside the door, watching over his daughter as both grieved for their lost friend.
“How long has she been here?” he whispered, not taking his eyes off of his daughter.
She looked up at him with her own puffy red eyes, “All day. All night. She hasn’t left. The only time she was away from her was when she changed into her mourning garb.”
“And you, have you been watching her this entire time as well?”
“I . . . I had to.” Her lip began to shake and her eyes filled with water, “Tara would ha . . . I wanted to make sure she was safe.”
Randel put a hand on her shoulder, “Thank you. I can watch her from here. Please, go get some sleep before the ceremony tonight.”
Serah looked wearily at Kithran, at Tara, and wiped her tears with her sleeve, “Thank you, Randel.”
When she left, he walked into the room, approaching slowly. Her sobs were silent, but her body shook with them. As he got closer he could hear her snifling and noticed the white of her knuckles as she squeezed the box. He put a hand on her shoulder, and another on Tara’s coffin, next to Kithran’s.
In surprise, the girl lashed out at the unexpected touch and jumped away, swinging her arm out and striking at her assailant. She had told them to stop trying to comfort her, stop trying to tell her everything would be okay.
Tara was dead. Nothing was going to be okay.
Randel watched in shock as recognition fell over his daughter’s eyes and the small knife fell from her sleeve. Her face transformed from rage into pain and she ran into him. He knelt and embraced her back, careful not to let any of the blood pooling in his hand from her cut touch her.
* * *
Tara was taken to the Tomb of the Maidens as the hot summer sun began to set over Calestra. Serah spoke through tears of her joy, her often unbearable yet always endearing humor, the strength she carried despite the pain of a past that haunted her, and the warmth of her unwavering smile.
With her father by her side, any attempt Kithran had made to hold back her sorrow in front of the others melted away. She clung to him with one arm as tears racked her body, keeping the other hand on Tara’s coffin until finally Randel coaxed her away and the doors of the tomb were closed on the maiden, buried with her hands clasping an old wine stopper.
* * *
“Kithran,” Serah called as Randel and his daughter began to head toward the merchant’s cart. The cleric jogged quickly up to them in her vestiges and looked down at the angry, puffy-eyed half-Syl through her own bloodshot eyes, “May I speak with you?” she held up her hands defensively when she saw the irritation on Kithran's face about to lash out at her, “I promise it isn’t for any sort of condolences or the like,” she vaguely stroked her jaw where a bruise had formed from the night before, “I’ve learned my lesson, but . . . it does have to do with Tara. Would you mind?”
Kithran regarded her through her glare for a moment before finally nodding curtly, and Randel stepped away to give them some privacy.
The young maiden put her hands in her pockets, “I will keep this brief, as I suppose you despise me now in my impotence as a cleric. I despise myself as well, so you are not alone.” She sighed and shook her head at the ground before looking back to the girl, “I trust you were able to pull Tara’s story out of her?”
Kithran nodded, “Wine night.”
The first ghost of a smile in nearly twenty-four hours touched the corner of Serah’s mouth, “No wonder. Well, she may have also told you that we were preparing to head out and help her find some . . . retribution for what had been done to her,” whether Tara had told her or not was lost on her as the black-haired girl only stared blankly back.
She finally took her hands out of her pockets, bringing a folded piece of paper out with them, “She wrote the names down for us, each of us, because she didn’t want us to forget. She wanted us to know their names and who they were. She couldn’t remember them all, but many were important lords, business owners, and other high-profile people throughout Sendria.”
Serah held out the piece of paper, “I was only a few years older than you when I joined the Laughing Maidens. My circumstances were different, of course, but . . . I think Tara would approve of you finding her some . . . some peace. And we would follow you, Kithran, as we would have followed Tara, if this is a path you would like to take with us.”
Kithran’s dark eyes softened and she snatched the paper out of her hands in a blur, as Tara had done with Serah's fork the other day while she was trying to eat, in order to get a rise out of her and a laugh out of Kithran. The girl skimmed over the list of names, there were so many of them there, written down in Tara’s messy handwriting.
“You don’t have to make any sort of decision now. Or even in the next few years. This will take some time. More even than she had anticipated, I think, but she was optimistic because,” her voice caught as the lump in her throat returned, and Kithran lowered her head and her hands because she knew what Serah was going to say, “because she wanted to come back here to be with you.” The tears began to fall freely from both of their faces, “I am so sorry, Kithran.”
Without looking up at her or even another word to her cleric, Kithran turned around and ran. She ran out of the cemetery, past her father, past the other attendants, sprinting as fast as her feet could take her to the Long Gamble. She didn’t slow as she careened down the hallway into the main floor, where people jumped out of her way, and she hopped up the stairs and down the twists and turns of the hallways until she was finally panting outside the door where almost twenty-four hours earlier she had stumbled through to show Tara her new trick.
She looked back down at the paper crushed in her hand and refolded it, placing it gently into one of the several pockets she had sewn into her dress.
This would never be the door Tara was waiting behind for her again. She wouldn’t be on the other side sound asleep as Kithran crept in and woke her up in the middle of the night. There would never be another “darling” through this door. Just memories and the smell of her.
Kithran slowly opened the door, dim now as the sun had fallen beneath the horizon, and found a red-haired Sylvari boy sitting on the edge of Tara's bed, his face in his hands.
Castien looked up, and even in the fading light Kithran could see his face was a mask of her own, damp and twisted in anguish, “Kithran, I . . . I . . . .”
“I know,” she whispered back and closed the door behind her. She moved across the small room to sit beside him but stopped short when she noticed the Marriage Blossom back in his lapel instead of the Star’s Light, “Oh, Castien.”
He followed her eyesight and broke down again when he realized what she was staring at.
Kithran jumped to his side and wrapped her arms around him, she too becoming overwhelmed once again with tears, “I’m sorry, Castien,” she said and he wrapped an arm around her too, “I’m so sorry.”
Posted on 2019-11-20 at 18:15:01.
Edited on 2021-04-28 at 15:21:53 by breebles
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What game do you own the 
Return to Charadun - Q&A
The Morphing Game
Return to Charadun - Recr
And Casty, yeah, dealt a rough card that he's not entirely sure what to do with.
guuuuh they're so cuuuuute
