#Lamed | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cmyksky · 9 months

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portent

Summary:

"We have not forgotten the skies we fell from, which is precisely why we must continue forward and upwards. If we remain… afraid of such uncertainty, I fear we may never reach the stars again.”

The Elders discuss the rising conflict in their kingdom. Rated G. 1820 words.

Read on AO3 here!

Six stone masks sit carefully around a large table. The shelved walls block out any semblance of the Vault’s typical quiet murmurs, power diamonds shining gently.

It was Lamed who had suggested they meet here, Ayin recalls, eyes taking in the dizzying rows of memory lanterns up the Vault when they had walked in. The Vault Elder had encouraged Ayin to be at ease upon noticing their subtle fidgeting, but it was more than difficult in a place like this. This realm was all echoey rooms and looming walls. Unnervingly quiet, and devoid of the light creatures Ayin wished to see so dearly.

Still, they had smiled upon entering the meeting room all the way to their seat, hoping the gesture was obvious in their eyes if anything. Never mind the chill that runs up their spine when their gaze meets everyone else’s. Tsadi sits poised as ever, looking out of their element without a giant spear by their side. Samekh sport matching unreadable expressions, seeming more interested in the distracted Teth across from them than Ayin’s entrance.

In their silence, Ayin idly realizes the lack of a seventh seat, and the fidgeting starts up again, hidden in their lap under the table.

“What of Daleth?” they say, eyes sweeping over the others.

“What of Daleth indeed,” mutters Samekh’s wild-haired half, and for once, Ayin is grateful for how little their stone masks betray. They say nothing more in response, smile fallen and eyes turned anywhere else but the table, and the air is still for just a second too long.

“Ayin,” Lamed begins calmly, “Daleth simply does not need to be concerned with this meeting. Now.” They turn their gaze to the jagged mask at their side, and Tsadi clears their throat, standing. The shadow they cast is stiflingly large.

“I have heard good news of the growing prosperity of our realms,” Tsadi says, not lacking in genuine sentiment, but all too formal nonetheless. It almost brings a rumbling laugh to Ayin’s throat. Almost, if not for the feeling of creeping dread.

As if to confirm Ayin’s thoughts, Tsadi cuts through immediately.

“But.”

Teth looks up at last, locs falling over their shoulder with the movement, and the twins lean forward to listen.

“The people of my shores grow… restless.” Tsadi speaks slowly, an unmistakably grave quality to their voice. One of the twins already gives a small shake of their head, perhaps derisively. “We are grateful for the honor of being able to provide so thoroughly to our kingdom, yes. But there is talk amongst the people of our past era of fire worship.”

Ayin stills.

“I wish for them to understand the power we have created on our own, but some have become unwilling to provide.”

On our own? Surely, we can at least recognize that such power is only possible with light creatures. Still, Ayin says nothing. It would be unwise to speak now.

“It is nothing we cannot deal with,” continues Tsadi, piercing eyes surveying the table. “However, I would like to request for the Forest to share a small load of our production.”

Teth sighs, a finger tracing the stone of the meeting table. “The Forest is not naturally equipped for such production. Our factory provides what it can already, Tsadi. We are much too limited by the migration patterns of light creatures, as well as our population.”

Frowning, Ayin directs their attention to the twins, whose postures are far too relaxed for the discussion they’re having. “Samekh,” Ayin says, hesitant. “Perhaps it would help to slow down the expansion of the Valley? If demand is lowered, the factories can more easily accommodate everyone’s needs.”

Despite their attempt to carefully word the suggestion in a way that does not place blame upon the twins, Ayin receives a narrow-eyed glance nonetheless.

“We are busy keeping our people happy and rallying support for the King. Life should at least be bearable for the common citizen, champion or not. If anything, you should be the one helping Teth, no? Put those bells of yours to use and redirect some light creatures to the Forest,” replies Mekh, a sneer edging their otherwise smooth voice. Ayin raises an affronted hand to their chest, and Teth says nothing in response.

“And interfere with the cycle of rebirth more than we already have? Teth, my friend, surely you cannot agree to this!” Ayin looks to the Forest Elder expectantly, anxiety coloring their words.

The silence that stretches between them is far more disquieting than any sentence spoken thus far.

After what feels like far too long, Teth speaks up.

“Ayin. You know more than anyone that my faith in the Light was once the strongest out of us. Stronger than yours,” they say. Stronger than Daleth’s, however, goes unsaid. Teth does not meet anybody’s eyes. “But the one we once considered our god no longer speaks to us. Not for a long, long time.”

The air surrounding the table suddenly feels suffocating, and Lamed ducks their head, eyes closed.

“I do not know if Samekh’s suggestion is the best course of action,” Teth admits, and Ayin releases a breath they didn’t know they were holding. “It may simply bring more darkness to my realm, as work in our mines is already difficult. And some of you,” they say, stern-voiced, “do not truly know the dangers of such work.”

Tsadi nods subtly, and Ayin realizes with a degree of sorrow that the Elder of the Golden Shores may be the only one who can understand Teth’s sentiment.

The Forest Elder goes on. “Still. We have not forgotten the skies we fell from, which is precisely why we must continue forward and upwards. If we remain… afraid of such uncertainty, I fear we may never reach the stars again.” Their voice is oddly quiet, laced fingers tapping in agitation as though they still have more to say. Ayin recalls Teth’s words about the condition of their realm in their last meetings, vaguely wondering if they allowed an audience with the miners.

“The King has already proven themself in the prophets’ Trials,” adds Sah. “If we cannot have faith in our leader, we might as well have faith in nothing at all. And if we don’t have faith, what is left for our people to believe in? A god that isn’t listening?” They huff, crossing their arms.

“Some have already proven that they believe our actions to be unwise,” Tsadi sighs. “Their conviction may only grow stronger with time.”

“So we prove them otherwise,” retorts Mekh, standing with their palms against the table.

Tsadi glares, and as usual, the twins do not falter, gazing up in challenge despite the notable disparity in size.

“That,” Tsadi bites out, “is precisely why we need to strategize across our realms. Why we are meeting in the first place. And I am not interested in delays.” They then pointedly direct their glare at Ayin.

The Prairie Elder opens their mouth to protest, but a low rumble cuts through the conversation, bringing it to a harsh stop.

Thunder. Of course. The growing frequency of storms in their skies is as good of a reminder as any.

“Time will not wait for us,” murmurs Lamed, and five heads turn at once at their solemn words. Lamed rises to their feet, smoothing out their robe with worn hands, an ever-present tremor in their motions. “Perhaps, Samekh, it would be best that you sit out the next meeting. I am certain you have more pressing concerns than this."

“Excuse me?" Samekh says, voices in unison, and Teth looks moments away from burying their masked face in their hands with exasperation.

Of all the times to kick at their pride, it had to be now.

"We have at least made our stance clear on what we should do. If anything, all you've done is give us vague statements and condescension dressed up as advice! Has staying in these dark, lifeless rooms made you forget the people you live for?"

Ayin winces—they'd be lying if they said the twins were completely unfounded in their frustrations, but their lack of patience certainly made no room for civility.

Lamed takes a steadying breath, but Sah continues before they can speak, voice steadily rising.

“Dictating who does and who doesn’t come to these meetings, who is valued and who is not? You are not as subtle as you think you are, Lamed, masked or not.”

“I have made no such implication,” Lamed scoffs, folding their hands neatly at their front.

“As if you could ever be that genuinely obtuse,” says Mekh coldly. “Our realm spans the area between the Forest and the Shores, and you expect us to believe this doesn’t truly concern us?”

Teth and Tsadi both raise their voices to contribute, and everything starts to blur together in Ayin’s ears. They can barely make out a few words here and there: something about resources, refinement process, transportation, darkness. Squeezing their eyes shut and rubbing at their temples does Ayin no good, and there’s a pervasively uncomfortable sensation crawling under their skin. Lamed says something undeniably sharp, and Ayin rises from their seat at once, easily drawing the table’s attention. The quiet that falls over them is a blessing, but it does not rid Ayin of the pressing feeling in their chest.

“Ayin?” questions Teth.

“I’m sorry, I… I can’t stay here,” Ayin manages to say, and they cannot bring their eyes to meet the rest.

“All of you,” Lamed says, suddenly quiet. “All of you should go.”

“With so little done?” says Tsadi, crossing their arms with uncertainty.

“We have said more than enough.”

“But—”

“Out of my realm at once!”

Lamed turns on their heel, being the first to leave the room in its stunned silence. Ayin swears they hear them mutter ‘disgraceful’ under their breath. Whether it is directed at the others or themself, though, they cannot be sure. The twins are quick to follow, then Tsadi, leaving Ayin standing in the room with Teth. The Forest Elder sighs, crossing the room in a way that’s almost shadow-like.

“I am sorry, Ayin. We must all make choices for the sake of the kingdom.” Then, lingering in the yawning doorway: “I pray the choices ahead of us will become easier to come to terms with over time.”

(Bells and birds sing in harmony over Daylight Prairie’s hills, and Ayin sits in the quiet of their temple, knelt in front of a heavy stone jar. The soft flutter of butterfly wings dances around their ears, and they shut their eyes. From here, the humming and chiming laughter of their people feel all too far away. Like if they close their eyes for a second too long, that light will begin slipping away, little by little. Ayin doesn’t want to think about it.

Somehow, they do not feel as though these choices will ever become easier.)

#sky fanfic #my writing #thatskygame #sky: children of the light #sky cotl #ayin #teth #samekh #tsadi #lamed #prairie elder #forest elder #valley elders #wasteland elder #vault elder #Daleth isn't here #but it's for story reasons

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