#ila- just uh just.... daydreaming... | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

edmund-valks · 4 years

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A Family Reunion - Part II

(( Continued from Part I ))

Like most fortresses, the community was much less secure once you were past its outer borders. Ilandreline did little sprinting or sneaking after the encounter with Teth, instead strolling openly along the back roads and meandering paths. Half-overgrown trails wended through the trees, their gently twisting branches drooping under the weight of their black-cherry leaves. There were some early buds mixed in as well, presaging the brilliant blues and purples of spring.

What surprised her most was how good she felt. Sure, her leg was still oozing blood through the aggravated scabbing and she had more bruises than she remembered getting and it was entirely possible someone else was going to try the same thing Teth had, but the air was so… She inhaled deeply, unable to find a way to put it to words. Wet, not damp, like the morning mist; light and crisp, cool, without being bone-chilling; heavy with so many scents she remembered more than knew. The smells of wet leaves, freshly-churned black earth, distant hearthfires burning, all combined to something experienced rather than sensed. This all really is a part of me, isn't it?

When Ila realized she had reached Mother's gate, she was momentarily disoriented. Had she really just… daydreamed through half the village? Just strolling idly, lost in thought while possibly being hunted by cranky relatives? Gotta be more careful. Good advice, especially here. Stress manifested between her shoulder blades as soon as she passed into the compound, eyes trying to look everywhere at once. She wasn't exactly on bad terms with her siblings or father, but one could never be too careful, especially this close to home. Luckily none of them were in evidence, which meant no more excuses to avoid meeting with Mellura'thel. Swearing beneath her breath, Ilandreline tossed open the door to the greenhouse without knocking. "Mother, I- shit!"

She threw herself back out, then dove to one side. Time away and nostalgia hadn't dulled her reflexes: the sight of Mellura'thel Glimmerbow spinning in fury at the interruption of her concentration was still a huge sign of possibly lethal consequences. Scrambling back to her feet, Ila ran fullbore toward the house proper. She almost made it.

While she generally preferred subtle methods, such as slow-acting poisons, Mellura'thel was still a highly skilled arcanist. In situations where a poison wouldn't be reasonable, she could still ensure her ire was clear. Currently this meant Ilandreline found herself lifted off her feet by heat-leeching tendrils of magic. Wrapped around each limb, they pulled and pulled and pulled, until it felt like her joints were about to pop. And were they still pulling? She bit down hard on her lip, hoping not to scream when something finally tore.

The awful stretching stopped. "Ilandreline?" She was facing the wrong way, but she didn't have to see the look on her mother's face to know what it was when she heard her name in that tone. "There are much more pleasant ways to die than bothering me while I'm working. Surely you recognize that. I don't recall raising any simpletons."

"Sorry, Mother. I wasn't thinking." She was barely thinking now, either, unless it was about how breathing wrong might dislocate four joints at once. "Do you think you could… let me down? Walking is going to be real hard if my leg gets popped out of its socket."

The shadowy pseudopods lowered her to the ground instead of simply dropping her. A surprise, to be sure, but welcome. Ila turned, facing her mother with a sheepish smile. "Thanks. I hope I didn't ruin any of your work."

"I lost nothing but time." That wasn't a killing offense. Not by itself. "Why are you back so soon, daughter? I thought we agreed you were unlikely to return."

That was an interesting way to describe telling her daughter she didn't contribute positively to the community and therefore wasn't much use, but okay. "I wanted-" She stopped herself with a frown. "No, I need to talk to Grandmother. I thought about what you said and while I still think you're wrong, it brought up some other stuff."

The only hints at her total surprise were the raised eyebrows and two quick blinks. "I see. And you came here because…?"

"I thought it would be best to let you know I was here rather than waiting for you to find out later. Or see me and suspect I was some kind of illusory spy."

"Reasonable," Mellura'thel admitted. "Perhaps even wise. You did not travel through the Nightwood this time, did you?"

Ila shook her head.

"Why not?"

Kind of a silly question, given how things had gone last time, to her mind. "I wasn't sure my, uh, access was still valid. I'm actually pretty sure the paths no longer recognize me as part of the family. Rather than take that chance, I came the hard way, from the east."

A long silence. "I think you made the right decision, if you insist on being here at all. Did no one stop you at the barrier?"

"Tried. Ignored me when I reminded him it was up to Grandmother to decide my fate, not some prick with a bow and a grudge."

Her mother's mouth bowed downward, an expression of distaste. "The guardian claimed exemption from her rules?"

Sure did, didn't you, Teth? "Said her opinions didn't matter since he worked for Grandfather."

"And what did you say in response?"

Ila shrugged. "Not much. Kicked him into a spike pit and broke his bow."

Was that a flash of amusement in Mother's eyes? Maybe even pride? "What else?" Did you kill him, she was asking.

"Nothing." She didn't need to know Ila had taken the ritual blade binding him to the family. That was for Grandmother alone. "He was unconscious and had a wooden spike through his arm, figured that was sufficient for the time being."

"Mm. I've warned you about leaving enemies alive, daughter."

"And under normal circumstances you know I wouldn't have, but he was mostly within his rights. Besides, given the… uncertainty… around whether I'm still part of the family, I figured it was best to leave the decision to Grandmother."

Though she grimaced, Mellura'thel agreed. The family matriarch was an absolute terror to cross. Very few survived the experience. "I see. That is a… not unreasonable opinion to hold. The consequences would certainly be dire if you had done otherwise and been wrong." She paused, then took Ila's hand in hers. "I am glad you are making good decisions, daughter."

It was Ilandreline's turn to be bamboozled, staring at her mother as if she was now three-headed and shooting rainbows from her ears. That was the closest she'd ever heard Mellura'thel get to saying something like "I love you." The sensation was unnerving. “I… thanks. Um. I should… go talk to Grandmother now, right?” The thought of having to deal with parental affection was stressing her out. It would be much better to be doing something else.

“Yes, I believe so.” Perfect. She’d just be on her way then, no more awkward feelings- “I will take you there myself.”

“Buh?” It wasn’t the most eloquent statement, but it did accurately express her mental state. “Why?”

“I am your mother. She is my mother. This way there can be no question that you are under her protection -- and mine. Come now.” Mellura’thel began walking. She was halfway across the courtyard before Ila was convinced this wasn’t some elaborate joke tapping into a sense of humour her mother had never before displayed.

Hurrying to catch up, which meant a peculiar gait incorporating the mild limp from her wounded leg, Ilandreline tried to think her way through this unexpected course of events. It wasn’t easy; her mother was talking to her. “Remind me who Teth is.”

“Why?”

“Because he has volunteered his life and I would like to remember who we are planning to give to the Great Dark.”

Oh, right. That. “Um. Do you… do you remember when Von was going to be married?” Von was her oldest sister. “Her spouse-to-be was Teth’s sister.”

Peripheral vision showed Mother’s lips thinning as they pressed together. Engagements were not uncommon, but their being ended was. More often than not they were arranged by families in order to make or keep certain alliances. Even though Ila hated politics, ignoring them was a recipe for disaster.

“I remember her. Stella, yes?”

She shrugged. “That’s what Von called her. I’m sure she had a longer name, just like Teth does, but I don’t remember either of ‘em.”

“Immaterial.” Mellura’thel’s hand waved it away. “What matters is that Vondariel was right to end things. I presume this ‘Teth’ felt some residual and misplaced anger at the familial shame resultant from her decision to terminate that relationship.”

Ila laughed nervously, deeply grateful her mother was bad at recognizing certain emotions. Someone more perceptive -- namely the person they were on their way to see -- would have pulled from her the real reason behind Teth’s hatred. It was only indirectly connected to Von and Stella. Thankfully only she and Von knew the truth, and neither of them were going to share. “Yeah, that’s… that’s probably it.”

There was no further conversation, praise the Dark. They reached Grandmother’s without incident, at which point Mellura’thel held the gate open for her daughter. She even smiled, at least to the extent she ever did. Ila was sure she had to say something then, though she didn’t know what was happening. “Thanks,” she said, trying to return the smile with one of her own. “I, um, appreciate… this.”

“You are welcome, Ilandreline. Return home when you are finished here. You must tell me what Mother decides.” She closed the gate between them before Ila could respond and immediately started back the way they’d come.

It wasn’t even a request. She commanded it! Shaking her head, thoroughly puzzled, Ila turned to her Grandmother’s door. It looked harmless, but she knew very well what lurked behind that facade. “This,” she reminded herself, “is exactly why I’m here. Also possibly the worst idea I’ve ever had.”

Tasting fear when she swallowed, Ilandreline knocked on the door and waited.

***

Unlike a number of other relatives, Grandmother only made you wait if she wanted you to think about what you’d done. That Ilandreline waited for less than a minute -- the approximate time one would expect it to take for an elderly woman with aching joints to put her knitting down, extricate herself from a cushioned chair, and cross the room, muttering mild oaths about both visitors and her knees all the while -- was a good sign as things went. Unless Granny Laine was just that excited about the chance to ruin her life. The old woman did take a certain joy in making sure she never had to teach anyone the same lesson twice.

The door, simple wood by appearance and so utterly benign to the peculiar sight of her family that Ila was absolutely certain the wards were incredibly brutal in addition to subtle, opened slowly to reveal the eldest of her relatives. “My, my, my. Ilandreline! What a surprise!” she said, sounding entirely unsurprised. “Come in, my dear.”

Ila did so, trying to keep herself together despite the storm of emotions. Seeing her mother again, even lying to her, was a simple thing. Being in proximity to Grandmother? She managed to keep herself from trembling as she stepped into the small entryway. There was a fire in the hearth down the hall, in the sitting room, its light near to blinding to her unshielded eyes. The other opening from where she stood led to the kitchen. She heard nothing from that direction but was willing to bet there was a pot of tea already prepared.

When the door shut again, the soft click of its latch sent a faint shiver down her spine. You’re in it now. Taking a deep breath to steady herself, she turned around.

The first thing most people noticed upon meeting Eldest Aurelaine, Voice of the Great Dark, was that she was old. Not ageless, as many of her people were, not even weathered, but like a human in the late throes of senescence. The beauty of youth, assuming she'd had it, was long gone. In its wake was a slightly hunched, wizened figure, with fiercely glowing eyes of midnight. What there was not was any sense of frailty; despite the wrinkles and sometimes sagging, sometimes too taut flesh, Aurelaine remained a figure of raw power.

Ila had no idea how old her grandmother really was, nor even if she was a blood relative. It wasn't important, so she'd never wasted any time trying to find out. Family was what they all were, in that they were united in faith and purpose. At the same time, family was no protection or deterrent. Love happened however it worked out for the involved parties, but partnering was often directed for certain purposes by the elders. Same with the occasional murder/sacrifice. (Killing in self-defense was acceptable, but always investigated; lying about it had… unpleasant results.)

"How've you been, child? Has the larger world treated you right?" The way Aurelaine asked suggested there would be consequences for Azeroth if it hadn't. Perhaps that was a little girl's belief in the most trusted person in her life. Then again, if anyone could threaten the whole planet…

Ilandreline drew back enough to look the matriarch in the eyes, not bothering to hold back her grin. "Nothing I couldn't handle. It's… a bit lonely, though. I've made a few friends, I think, and they're better behaved than most people around here, but, you know… It's not the same."

An understanding nod. "Leaving home is like that. If you stay here long enough, though, you'll remember why you left. That's why the saying goes how it does, why you can never go home again." To another viewer, the way her lips pulled back may have looked malicious; Ila saw in it amusement instead. "You're never the same person who left. That's a good thing."

Before she could stop herself, Ila blurted, “But I’m here anyway, so is it really?” Her mouth failed to close afterward, her brain having caught up too late to prevent anything. She did bring a hand up, though, politely hiding her appalled gawping behind it.

“Oh, it’s good to have you back, little Lina,” the old woman said, a low chuckle working its way up from deep in her chest. “You always bring excitement with you. Come. Sit. There’s tea and cookies next to your chair.”

“I… what? You… knew?” Of course she knew, Grandmother always knew, but…

She prodded Ila in the soft flesh below her ribs, an almost gentle poke with her rather pointed finger. “Of course I did, girl, don’t be silly. I’ve known since the last Prelude Night that you’d be coming home soon. How soon I wasn’t sure, not until that business down south.” Still laughing to herself, Aurelaine ambled by, taking her own advice by heading for the sitting room.

Ilandreline found herself struck dumb for a moment, blinking at nothing as she grappled with the difference between expectation and reality. If she’d been expected, then shouldn’t everyone have been reminded to let her in? Or was that part of some test, too? Was she being evaluated somehow? That felt more like something Mother would have come up with, but surely she’d gotten it from somewhere. Chewing her lip, she eyed Aurelaine for a moment before following.

For whatever reason, Granny Laine had always liked her. Nobody knew why, but the matriarch of their family was not someone you questioned if you enjoyed living. She was crafty, ruthless, and -- it was rumoured -- undying. As in she couldn't die, not that she was in possession of immortality. Few people were fool enough to test it and, of those who did, only Grandfather was still alive. Assuming that one considered his unnatural state of being counted as “alive”. If Granny was going to act like everything was okay, like this was a visit from her grandchild no different from any other, then… perhaps Ila could let go of some of the fear. Or perhaps the tea and cookies would take care of that for her.

Conceding to the wisdom of her elder, Ilandreline followed after. The firelight was enough to force her to squint for most of the way, but once she settled in, the light level seemed reasonable. Ah, the screen isn’t high enough for that… She frowned, thinking about the standing grate straining brightness for the eyes of the seated. No, it is high enough, but only barely for her. Anyone taller would be affected. A defense mechanism, even here. No wonder she was still alive.

The chair -- “your chair”, she’d said, granting it an unexpected level of personal relevance -- was as comfortable but smaller than she remembered. No, that wasn’t quite right. Ila was simply larger than she’d been in any of those memories. As promised, there was a delicate porcelain cup and saucer, the former full of still-steaming tea. Beside it was a small plate, simple stoneware, with an array of cookies on it. Sweets were something she rarely trusted, but here… She took one, halving it with a single bite.

For a moment she was a girl again, sharing the tiny cake she'd made with her favourite relative. She'd made it herself, from scratch, with all ingredients but the most difficult collected on her own. It hadn't been great, but Granny Laine knew how hard she'd tried. The effort deserved praise, and that she wished to share was noteworthy. Ila had gotten some very useful feedback that day, along with advice she hadn't understood at the time. She'd remembered it all the same and was glad she had.

The present returned with a dizzying crash. Setting aside the cookie for the moment, Ilandreline picked up cup and saucer, hoping she wouldn’t shake too much. It was very noticeable if you did, and an irritating sound. So far, so good. A sip, to test the flavours and show her trust. Then and only then could she let herself meet her grandmother’s eyes.

“Thank you,” she half-mumbled, not sure where to start. “For, um, all this.”

Aurelaine’s amusement was expressed via snort rather than laughter, dark eyes glittering ominously above her own cup. “Don’t thank me yet, child. This isn’t a social call, you’re here for a reason. I’m only putting you at ease so you can feel the right kind of fear later.” There was her grin, properly discomfiting. “We can do the smalltalk first, if you like, but if you’d prefer to get it out of the way now-”

“Yes, please!” The words tumbled out without her conscious participation. There was also an irritating rattling sound now. Frowning, Ila glanced furtively about, trying to place the noise. Oh. Her hands were shaking, the cup and saucer clattering against one another. The fear hadn’t left after all. Deliberately setting them aside, she curled her hands into fists, digging nails into palms to help her focus. “I… I want a place here. My place here, I mean, not one Mother or someone else would have planned for me.”

A subtle movement in lieu of a nod. “And what does that have to do with me?” She sipped her tea calmly, in what would have been a pleasant scene for a painting what with the way the firelight danced and lit her profile, providing a sort of halo around the loose bun of iron-grey hair pinned atop her head. “You said you wanted your place.”

Ila frowned, trying to get the tracks of her mind united on the single puzzle before her, how to talk to Grandmother. “I do.” She licked her lips, swallowed, exhaled. Certain little acts were soothing. Also the fingernails pressed harder against the soft flesh of her hands. Focus, focus. “What I mean is that my place in the family has to tie in with what you think of as my place, or else I’m… not really part of the family, am I?”

“Is that really what you think?”

“No,” she answered immediately, then flinched as she heard her word.

Cackling, Aurelaine placed her drink on the side table, rubbing her hands together as she hunched forward. “I appreciate the honesty. It was a good try, your explanation, the kind of thing your mother would approve of. But you’re here with me, not her, so let’s try it one more time. Why do you think your place here has anything to do with me?”

“Because you’re the only one who didn’t try to change me.” She felt the truth of the statement in her bones, though she hadn’t realized she knew it. “Mother wanted me to be like her. Father didn’t care what I did so long as I wasn’t in his way. Sandy and Von and all the rest… well. We learned to live with each other with minimal bloodshed, but I’m not sure that counts as having a place.”

Silence and raised eyebrows. The standard indicator that the question had not yet been answered.

“If I’m going to have any place here, it’s through you. Not just because you seem to think there’s something about me worth caring for, but also because you’re the only one with enough influence to make everyone else understand I do belong. I’m not a sacrifice waiting to be made, or a failure who’s going to weed herself out! This is my family, too, and I deserve to be a part of it!”

Grandmother’s smile wasn’t menacing to Ila. It was the same one more than a few relatives had seen right before their deaths, but that didn’t bother her. She associated it with the best parts of her childhood rather than the last moments of lives. This time, though, she sensed some kind of darkness to it, what she would have called a spiritual chill if she’d been more inclined to faith.

“You’re right, dear girl. On all counts. And that’s the cleverness I’ve always liked about you. You know the rules of the games, know you have to play them even if you don’t like them. You’re a survivor who knows better than to fight a system that would destroy you. But there’s more to it than that.” She leaned back finally, relaxing into the padding of her chair, fingertips curling like talons over its cushioned arms. “How long has it been since you’ve heard the voices, Lina?”

The question was so unexpected it left her at a loss for long seconds, scrambling to process and find the answer. “I… I don’t know? Other than the, um, couple times recently when I used the knife, it’s been…” She looked up at the plain ceiling, not really seeing the thick beam supports as she made referential calculations. “Since the nightmares stopped. That first year after Consecration, I think.”

“Are you sure? You stopped hearing them so long ago and haven’t heard them since?” The question had the hallmarks of a trap, but she couldn’t understand how it could be.

“I… Yes? I’m fairly sure. The nightmares and the voices were all part of the same thing, so once I learned to tune them out, I-” She stopped, teeth clicking as they came together. Trap sprung.

Soft laughter from across the room. “They’re still there, aren’t they?”

Ilandreline nodded, not trusting herself to speak, not knowing what she would say even if she did.

“And you’ve always avoided the little... perks... of your heritage ever since then, haven’t you? Because you knew that if you opened up, even a tiny bit, you’d hear them again. The dreams would come back. Isn’t that right?”

More wordless agreement.

“You’ve proven you have the will, child. Most of the others went mad, but you learned to shut them out. There aren’t many like us, you know.” Granny Laine stood then, with obvious effort, crossing the space between to put a gnarled hand beneath her granddaughter’s chin, tilting her head up to look her in the eye with uncomfortable intensity. “That’s why I gave you my knife at your Consecration, Lina. That’s why you’ve been allowed to be yourself for so long. I wanted to see where you’d go with that freedom, what you’d do with it. And it’s brought you back here, hasn’t it? Here to us, to me, asking for help to find what’s been missing from your life for so long. Your place, yes?”

There was a yawning precipice before her, Ilandreline knew. Her grandmother was almost certainly about to push her over and into it. The question was whether she would also catch her.

“If you want to know how I see you, you’ll have to spend some time here. I don’t take apprentices often. Or lightly. Ours isn’t an easy faith to administer, after all.”

“H-how long? To stay, I mean. I have friends, you know, and they’re probably going to wonder where I am if I-”

Aurelaine squeezed her jaw -- gently, but enough to stop her talking. “It won’t be all at once. Stay the week, eh? If you’re still sane at the end of it, we’ll talk about when your proper lessons will begin.”

A week. She could do a week. Probably. Ila nodded, barely shifting the surprisingly strong grip of the Eldest. “I… alright. As long as you answer my questions.”

“Of course.” Grandmother’s voice softened, lowered, until it would have easily been lost amongst the whispers Ilandreline had ceased noticing. “But you’ll regret asking them when I do.”

#warcraft rp #wow rp #fence macabre #ilandreline glimmerbow

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