Scene Archives

isn’t always an alley-trawling traveller, you know. On this particular night, on the balcony in their shared room at the Six Moon’s Watch (it used to be called the Twelve Moon’s Watch, and then they crossed it out and then it was Eleven… then Ten… and, well, there’s a lot of appended signs now), The Awoken Prince is sitting in a nondescript chair, legs kicked up on the balcony railing. He’s stargazing and moon admiring, both in appreciation of their aesthetics, but also quietly noting their positions, formations…

is lightly dressed, almost ready for bed. Tights, slippers, idly playing with the near-bare garland of his.

stands outside the door of their room for a long, long time before she comes in, and when she sees the empty bed she almost starts crying again before she sees him on the balcony. She opens the door, leans against the frame, and says, “What do you see, Sininen?” Her voice is even, she thinks, and he can’t see her expression unless he turns to look at her.

: “I see the stars… the constellations, the moons as they were partially promised,” and he turns to look as he says this next bit- “- and beautiful Salme-“ and this is where the other shoe drops.

’s mouth twitches up into a bit of a smile, but just a bit. “Hi, you. I was wondering if I could be a messy bitch in your direction.”

gently smiles and carefully lowers his legs from the railing. He turns, the chair making a sliding noise as it rotates.“Something troubles you, sweet sparrow? Pray, come hither.”

laughs a little, and then goes to him. She considers pulling up a second chair, but then seats herself on the ground next to him, leaning against his legs. “Jorule thinks I’m overreacting. Looking for something to be upset about.”

carefully runs a hand through her hair, lightly scratching her scalp, gently holding her. “The peanut gallery oft has a different perspective on things than those on stage.”

: “He very well might be right,” she says, leaning her head back into his hand. “I’m still …” she closes her eyes. “It’s in the library. I can tell you. Or I can show you. If you don’t mind. You also. Don’t have to, you know.”

: “Show me, beleagured sparrow.”

tilts her head back to look at him and takes his free hand and then unfurls the petals around her heart, inviting him in.

is in the library with Wolf, barely an hour ago, and they are linked and singing in counterpoint, striving, remembering, and she is wild with joy and certainty as words echo through her, spoken to her on the wind, ‘DO WHAT YOU WISH.’ It echoes through her and it is the Omniclast saying it but it is also Jorule, also Aurelius, also him, her Awoken Prince, and certainty that the future is yet unwritten. There is so much joy, spiraling higher and higher, and then ⁂

feels greater knowledge echo through her, down to her marrow—that know that this is not the first time she has danced this particular dance together with Wolf. And then there is a memory. ⁂

High up in the sky, through slate-grey glass, you look down upon the world Wolf dreams. You stand apart from each other, on either side of a white stone dueling circle, inlaid with gold. You cannot see each others’ faces, your bodies are– vague suggestions of dreamlike memory. You simply recognise them as your own. You stood there, you bowed, and with smiles on your faces that could drive away the darkest thought, once, somehow, you dueled each other in bright warm sunlight. ⁂

, after that, sends a cacophony, a snarl of thoughts, fear and drowning and fear and suffocating and fear and the idea of string, tugging her like it tugs a marionette. If she knew Wolf before, if she has existed before, what does it mean. If there is another cycle, larger than the one she has come to know, decided to break, what does it mean. If she has existed before, if she was Chosen for this task for some reason other than just being herself, what does it mean. Has the world always been some terrible, churning, inescapable cycle? Has she missed some greater, terrifying mystery? And it is fear and fear and fear flooding her, pulling her in different directions, and she still cannot quite articulate the whys, so she gives him this. 🙧

grips her hand, firm in its comfort, her knuckles caressed by a comforting thumb.

: “A phrase comes to mind. ‘Time flows like a river, and history repeats.’”

: “It seems to be rather literal, in this experience.”

grips her hand back. “I don’t want it to. I don’t. Awa, I’m scared. I’m scared there’s a larger pattern we can’t see and that we can’t escape.”

holds her head to his knee, still caressing her. He lets the silence linger as the soothing (hopefully) works a bit.

: “It’s a riotous concept, backed by vivid vision, for sure.”

: “Ever since I told you and Aurelius about Almachadta’s cycles, I’ve been working to believe that there’s no such thing as destiny, and if there is it’s something that can be changed. Every step I’ve taken, every realization about myself, has been predicated on the fact that I may not have ever been anyone special before, but I have made myself something now. And now—if Wolf and I had history once, is that why we care for each other now? Is everything just … that doesn’t seem like it should be true. If it’s a story, we should be strong enough to change it, to make it ours. But—“

: “Are we just repeating the same thing over and over again? I thought almost certainly not, but now …”

softly says, “Look to the night sky.”

obeys. She looks up.

: “For each day that passes, twilight comes, and the stars twinkle. The moons rise and fall.”

: “A heart beats, heads rest upon downy pillows to rise upon the morn, poets write their loves and tragedies.”

: “Life exists in cycles. A road is first paved by each traveller, step by step.”

: “Such familiarity… it is both for ease of the mind, comfort of the soul.”

: “Where it wounds us is when those feelings are only achieved through rending our existence.”

: “Some don’t realize it happens. So full that life is of experience and feeling that the most jagged barb can be endured by the softest babe.”

: “But… what does a newborn know of the cycle of life, death, and rebirth? It doesn’t. Not immediately. And sometimes, not ever.”

inhales deeply, and then exhales.

: “Even those who would break those oft-considered rules of life do not find their souls to be completely satisfied, yes?”

: “I don’t … know. Probably not?”

: “Mmm. Truly, who knows. Wait a thousand years, then ask Luĉja? But I’d like to work on a shorter timeframe.”

: “Luĉja’s only 120,” she returns helpfully, and then laughs a little. “I’m sorry. I think I hear what you’re saying, I guess? That a pattern isn’t necessarily a grave, that history repeats but … if reincarnation is a thing, and I suppose that’s what is suggested, it doesn’t … it can mean just a chance for more life? Is that about right?”

: “There’s always a chance for more life. And life that is different, yet familiar, to life once walked before.”

: “What does it mean, that you and Wolf may have known each other before, been warm friends and Rite-mates before?”

: “Is it so cruel that you could find each other again, apart in time and cycle?”

is a snarl of emotion still, in the link. She hasn’t dropped it though she keeps telling herself she should, and he knows both of these things as she feels them. “It’s complicated. Wolf is. I told him that he was the first person I ever met who … chose me first. He called me ‘friend’ before I called him anything. And it’s upsetting, to think … what if it wasn’t because he liked me, but because of some unknown echo or familiarity?” She keeps looking at the sky, as he asked, but she would look at him now if he hadn’t asked her to keep her eyes on the stars. “What if what we have isn’t because we met and I wanted, but because it has happened before?” ⁂

’s mind stutters, as all the turmoil drops away for a moment of clarity. “Oh. I’m doing it again.” And she lets him see the pattern she can’t seem to escape—the certainty that she isn’t worth anything at all, and the way her mind tries to weave any thread it can grasp to make it true. “I’m an idiot.” 🙧

: “You are- like each other humanoid under the stars tonight, even me- very small.”

: “And we tower over the chirping cricket, the crawling bug, the errant frog, the gormless nooplankton. And the worlds yet still barely regard us in their shadow.”

: “What makes us appear larger than that is what we do.”

: “We persist through wildfire. We defy an endless sea that would drown us in minutes. When all is lost in a Rite, the top card becomes victory.”

listens, and as she listens he can feel her heart slowly, beat by beat, falling in sync with his.

: “So long ago, when I posited that if pulling the Centrelight from Almachadta would save it from destruction- was it madness? Perhaps. Did it tremble in your heart that this man, this man who is but nary an ilm larger than yourself, who it could be doubted that he could carry ten sacks of grain at once, and yet he speaks of stealing light from the sky- that he could, in fact, do so?”

: “Any cycle you conceptualize, fierce sparrow, is yours to rend and reign over once you envision it.”

: “As the farmer tills a field to encourage the cabbages grow within eyesight and to be gathered even when they are hunched and infirm, they have written that story.”

: “The flipside question to what it all means, is- have you always been so powerful?”

: “Maybe you have. Maybe you still are.” He looks down at her with a smile. “Shall I lovingly elucidate your accomplishments, creations, and will?”

takes a deep breath and does look up at him. “I—I know you would. I don’t know that—“ he can feel it, still, through the link, the feeling that she failed, again. He had said once he did not want her to be a mere scrap, and she’s worried that she’s hurt herself again and in doing so hurt him. “Besides,” she jokes, or tries to, “it’s my job to tell the story of you, beloved one.”

: “You very much will,” he slyly remarks with a wink. “But I do hope you would not leave yourself out of the story, as you are ever so much an important part of it. You are. You are.“ A feeling of embracing warmth and compassion returns through the link.

swallows and then nods. “I am,” she agrees, and there is trust there—there is certainty there. She does not doubt she is an important part of this story, even if that truth weighs uncomfortably upon her.

: “I. Am still scared, a bit. Of if there is a pattern I can’t see. Of if something is trying to circumscribe our actions, to make the past repeat.” She turns fully, resting her hand on either of his knees. “Tell me, Awa, and tell me the truth—if that happens, we can change it too, right?”

: “We can. We will. Even the narration is rooting for us.”

smiles up at him. “That’s true. Though—“ her eyes flick upwards, not at the stars, but looking for something else, something more distant.

: “Ah. Silmät. I wanted to apologize. I snapped at you back there, and I think you were only trying to help.”

rests her cheek on one of her hands, gazing instead up into the Awoken’s eyes as she waits for your response.

knows not every attempt is successful very well herself. She nods. She is going to keep trying to believe in herself too. “And you, Sininen.” She does drop the link then, wanting to use only her words, to be present in the moment. “Thank you.”

looks down, eyes shining with admiration. “Forever chase your truth, dear Salme. When the pursuit exhausts and pains you, know that we- myself, Aury, all of us- are here, and love you.”

nods. “I need to … hm. I need to talk to Aury too, but. That can probably wait. I’ve had a very long day.” She waits one more moment, gazing up at him, then stands and stretches. “Will you help me out of this dress? I think I want to be in bed, curled up with you.”

stands with her, the both of them silhouetted against the star-illuminated twilight and lamp-fired streets. “Of course. This too, is written in the story.”

: “Well. It will be.” She does take a moment to look up at the starts. “Thank you, rakas, for your wisdom and your patience and your kindness. And. Perhaps next I have any degree of energy, you can tell me more about what you see in the stars.”

leans forward to kiss her, holding her close for a few moments, before leading them both back inside, closing the balcony door behind them.