Sisters Are Doin’ It for Themselves (Sorrel & Velania)

Continues after Teatime Therapy

Co-written with the brilliant stephena


The winds are restless. The clouds race across the sky, blotting the sun with irritating frequency. It’s an unsettling morning in Daring Heights. Dust rolls across unswept cobblestones.

The central streets of Castleside are disturbingly quiet. No market, no street vendors, no laughter of children. Instead, only the echoes of footsteps on empty streets, mingled with the distant noise of hammering and sawing, and somebody hurling curt instructions at a sullen crew.

In a silent courtyard, the doors burst open at the Temple of Selûne, and a handful of townsfolk stride outside. They keep their heads down, hurrying back to their destinations without acknowledging one another. All with a frisson of urgency. Nobody wishes to linger to make conversation after matins.

Velania walks out slowly after them, frowning as they leave. Numbers are down. The mood is low. Wordlessly, she pulls on a warm layer and leaves the temple herself. She closes the doors and starts walking the streets.

Before long, she has found her way to the street where Sorrel and Silvia live.

One of the urchins Sorrel has on retainer clambers in through the skylight and carefully disarms two of the traps. Sorrel manages to reach him and disarm the third before he drops to the bed beneath.

“That angel you went to Hell with is ‘ere,” the kid sniffs. “Nice looking lady, that. Might be an angel when I grow up.”

“James, I wouldn’t put it past you.” Sorrel slips a couple of coins into his hand.

Then she moves downstairs like a ghost’s shadow and opens the door to watch Velania approach. It’s almost a year to the day since she’d wrestled a wolf and a chinchilla all the way into the back room of a bookshop whilst helping Lord Leapington… for the life of her, she can’t remember what they were helping him do. But she remembers crashing to the ground at Velania’s feet and feeling Selûne’s voice again after 20 years of silence.

Even though Velania is walking down the street with intent, something about Sorrel’s silent emergence still catches her by surprise. She cocks a smile as she approaches the doorway. “Sorrel, glad I caught you. You weren’t busy, I hope?” She sees a familiar mote of caution in Sorrel’s face, and intuitively she mirrors it, glancing up the street. She catches herself and shakes the reaction off – it is not her way to be so wary. “I’ve never seen the city so quiet and yet so far from feeling peaceful. There’s something wholly macabre about all this, isn’t there?”

“It is strange – have you been in many cities when invasion looms?” Sorrel knows so little about Velania, she realises, and yet owes her so much. “Before you answer – are you hungry? Thirsty? Or would you like to walk the walls? I always get itchy when an army is approaching.”

“Actually, I feel quite restless too, so I was out trying to walk it off… whatever ‘it’ is. Would you like to join me? And in answer to your question, this is all new to me. I have never experienced war or invasion before. I come from Turmish, which is quite a sheltered, pastoral region, where the biggest existential threat is a slightly disappointing harvest from year to year. As you can imagine, it was a bit of a culture shock to end up in the Dawnlands. But I know you’ve seen some…” – she considers her words carefully – “conflicts over the years, Sorrel. I’m so sorry you have to go through another one.”

Sorrel smiles. “It’s what I was trained for,” she scratches her nose thoughtfully. “Let me pack water, bread and cheese and we can see what we will.”

Sorrel emerges a minute later and they start to walk. Velania notes that they have not chosen one of the quieter, picturesque, tree-lined routes but seem to have kept to the main thoroughfare, granting a clear view of much of the city. They pass a courtyard where soldiers are drilling loudly, then a halfling boarding up the windows of her store, muttering curses to herself. “I feel her fury,” Sorrel sighs. “This invasion seems so pointless.”

“I have a horrible feeling it involves whatever happened to Coll.” Velania’s voice becomes quiet, her face is numb. “When they first came for him, Sorrel, they tried to grab him. It wasn’t a raid… it was an abduction. We fought them off…” Velania trails off hoarsely, fighting to control her voice. She shakes her head, wrestling with shame and regret. “They have been hunting for him ever since. He’s their key. I’m certain of it. And I think they’ll burn every building, slaughter every household, overturn every stone of the Dawnlands, until they find what they seek.”

Sorrel pauses as they reach an ancient stone staircase leading up to the ramparts of the city walls and steps aside to let Velania go first. Coll? This is news. It’s a war, and war she understands. She will fight. That is what she does. Army against army. Greed or power at stake. But typically a barman is not at the root of the battles she’s fought.

She tries to sound casual. “Did you say Coll?”

Velania hears all the levels to Sorrel’s question and inhales to brace herself. She must be careful here. The burden of seeing Coll, non-responsive, unable to speak to her, is unbearable. Since returning from hell, she has been visiting him daily, yet for all the time she sits with him, she receives no response. The pain of it hurts worse than heartbreak. It might help to share this – no, it would help. But Aurelia has sworn her to secrecy. And then she detests the idea of lying… especially to her friend – her sister – of all people. And on top of that, Sorrel has a keen eye: she would see through any deception, were Velania to attempt it. The barrage of self-doubt and self-questioning is overwhelming. Just how much can she share?

She nods minutely, and gazes out over the city from the walkway. Normally, seeing Daring Heights from on high fills her with excitement, but today she only feels worry, and it is knitted across her forehead. Up here, the wind buffets them, tousling her loose hair.

She sighs, having visibly made her choice. “This is going to sound like gibberish, Sorrel. But here it is, for what it’s worth: the Githyanki put the key to flying the city in his head, and now they want to take his body to control it. In the meantime, his mind… we– they don’t know where his mind is.” She huffs with frustration. “I know how ridiculous that sounds. It doesn’t even make sense, does it? But it’s the only way I know how to describe all this. In the end, this invasion is still about the same motivation as ever: power. It’s just that the power is hidden in some arcane way inside a person. Coll’s… been hidden away to keep him safe. But that can’t last forever.”

She stops and turns to Sorrel on the battlements. A defiance enters her eyes. “Okay. Well, I’m sort of breaching a trust by talking to you. But I’ve been keeping this a secret in forever, and it’s devouring me from within. If I don’t share something with someone… I’m only telling you because, well, you are a master of secrecy in your own right, aren’t you? If I tell you something, can you promise me it won’t go any further?”

Sorrel places her hand on her heart and looks Velania in the eyes. “I promise I will not breathe a word of what has passed between us on pain of death or worse,” she says. “Velania, you have saved my life at least three times. I am many things, most of them dubious, but I am loyal, faithful and I will not let harm come to my… to my family, as I consider you… as long as I can breathe.”

Sorrel hauls her backpack off. “I think we need a little wine for this.” She pulls out a bottle. “It’s a little rustic but it goes with the cheese.” As she pours out two beakers of the slightly astringent peasant rose, she thinks through what she’s just heard. “It’s terrible for you – I can feel that, but it does not sound like gibberish. It sounds like Coll is stronger and braver than I thought.”

“You have no idea,” Velania blurts out. She smiles to herself as she sits down on the crenellations of the wall, and dangles her feet over the edge with no care for the height. “He’s a man of many talents. He is one of the Council of Nine, along with luminaries such as Aurelia and Rholor. And while it wouldn’t be accurate to call bartending a front – he is a people person, after all, so it’s very much what he loves – it does still place him in the position of meeting and greeting everybody who passes through the Dawnlands. As such, he’s very smart, very well informed, and knows a great number of things about a great number of people. He’s one of the guiding hands that keeps us safe, Sorrel. He looks after everyone.”

Her gaze wanders skyward and follows a rogue cloud roiling across the sun. “Above all, though, he’s kind, and sweet, and funny…”

Velania drifts off, and after a moment raises her beaker solemnly to toast Sorrel. “To sisterhood.” Then she grins sideways. “And to making me cry with your words at the portal, just before we jumped into Phlegethos. I’ve never wished to be in the position of having to save lives. But when I see you in action, leading people, your astounding archery skills, your fathomless bravery, risking your life as you do… well, I am glad I can help.”

Sorrel hesitates. She is not a people person and always gets these things wrong but she reaches out and gives Velania an incredibly awkward hug. “I don’t really do hugs,” she says hastily.

“That’s okay. I like them, but they aren’t mandatory,” Velania says with a kind smile. “But that was a nice one.”

“I’m working on them.” Sorrel grimaces. “Velania, I am so grateful for your words – but what I seem to hear in them is… and forgive me… perhaps a sense that you don’t necessarily see yourself as we all see you, that perhaps you don’t see the courageous warrior I saw rise to the challenge of Shar’s devils as they rose above us in that weird ruin,” she looks up hastily to see if she’s caused offence.

Velania frowns. “At the ruins, my anger was more an expression of fear, to be honest. I had only heard of the Heralds up to that point, from you and the others. It was quite a shock to see them for the first time – and to realise they were all there in force. I just remember seeing your arrows flying at an alarming rate, and it made me feel safe.” She chuckles ruefully. “But if you thought it courageous, then I must have been doing something right?”

Sorrel’s face takes on an exaggerated exasperation. “Right… that flying demon… you rose up to meet it head out of fear… Well, do you remember that slime beast in the Feywild? The one immune to your magic? The one you kept fighting even when your spells bounced off?”

Velania nods wistfully at this memory. “Yes, fear: I mostly remember being afraid about Faust, in that fight. But again, one in which I was glad to be beside you taking control and being utterly deadly in combat. But you are right. Even if I don’t see myself as a warrior, or a brave soul, I think people are brought into strength by standing together. Like you and Kavel. Like you and Silvia.” She fixes Sorrel with a powerful look of determination. “Like you and me.”

“I think Coll is lucky to have someone who…” Sorrel takes a deep breath. “Perhaps loves him? I don’t know. But someone who has walked into the mouth of Hell ready to fight for him. And I am lucky to have you as my sister. And we are both lucky that our Moonmaiden cares for use enough to free me from the Hunger Spirit and send her emissary to Hell… She has our back. So… you know… I kind of pity the Gith. They don’t realise the aasimar they’ve taken on. I owe you. I will follow you. I will help you in every way I can. And then hopefully also Coll will forget my tab when we sort this all out.”

Velania grins, takes the bottle and refills their cups. “This reminds me of home, you know? My parents have a small vineyard – scarcely more than a couple of fields on a hillside – but they get a passable few barrels most years.” She idly conjures a mote of silvery moonlight and plays with it in the air. “My mother stepped away from our birthright. She never fully explained why; only said that it was my choice what to do with it. I never really thought I’d made an active choice. But yet, here I am. Flying up to terrifying fiends and shouting threats at them, and following you into hell to save the world. I suppose I have made my choice, haven’t I? But I swore you to secrecy and never divulged, didn’t I? So here goes…”

A chorus of thoughts cross Velania’s face. She ponders carefully which to pick upon, as if there are many directions she could take this conversation. “What I can tell you is this. Coll’s body is safe and well, and he is being kept in a top-secret location. But his mind is… well, they aren’t truly sure where. But it may be possible to recover it… him.” Even though they are sitting high above the city, far from any listening ears, she leans in and lowers her voice. “He is under intense scrutiny from the best minds in the Dawnlands. I overheard something, and I think they are on the verge of a breakthrough. And yes, you read me right: not only am I in love with him, but I am going to do anything I can to help him. Which means the Moonmaiden herself could not stop me from poking my nose in and trying to help.” She looks down at her clenched fists in surprise and relaxes them. Her pupils are dilated and her eyes glimmering. “And if you were there with me, Sorrel… it would mean the world.”

Sorrel laughs. “You are sensitive, brave, generous and beautiful but you don’t listen,” she grabs Velania in a heartfelt bear hug, no awkwardness this time. Her lips next to the glorious aasimar’s ear she whispers slowly and clearly. “I owe you. I will follow you. I will help you in every way I can.”

Initially startled by Sorrel’s burst of enthusiasm, Velania soon reciprocates with the hug, blushing. She holds her sister tight.

Sorrel releases the cleric and looks at her for a moment. “You know, I don’t really think there is such a thing as courage. We just weigh the sum of our fears. Why you stepped away from your vineyard and followed the road you are on I don’t know. But the reasons don’t matter. Whatever it is that we are about to do scares you, I can see that. But what scares you more is a life without ever seeing Coll again. That is bravery. Balancing out your fears and choosing love. I would die alongside any leader who asked me to fight for love.”

“I like your approach to courage. You know, I saw Zola a few days ago. She swung by the Temple. I told her much the same thing – I’m petrified by the thought of never seeing Coll again. More than that, I would sacrifice myself to save him, if it ever came to that. Without question. If that’s courage, as you say, then I like the sound of that.” For a moment, her concerned frown is pushed aside by an absent smile.

Sorrel rises to her feet and looks across the city. “When do we start?”

Velania follows Sorrel’s gaze over the uneasy city from their vantage point. “I don’t know the details, but my heart tells me it will be very soon. Within a few days. I’m so glad to know you’ll be there. But one thing…” She stands and takes Sorrel’s hands and grips them tightly. “I’d rather you didn’t talk in terms of ‘owing’. We’re far past the point of owing each other anything. You know that, right? Yes, Phlegethos was technically a contract for you, but it was so much more for me.” Her eyes become glazed with light, and her focus blurs through Sorrel to the horizon beyond. “What we awakened, what we achieved, it was destiny. We split hell open and we reached up and shook the skies of heaven, that day. We saved the angel Je’Sathriel. We ended the Unending Word, Sorrel. We changed the course of history.”

Her words have become ethereal and dreamlike. She snaps back to the moment and peers at Sorrel, observing her with a gentle but relentless intensity. “Send Silvia my best, will you? I see her influence on you. You’ve… blossomed, I think… yes, that’s the word. Love is treating you well. You were more reserved when we first met. Of course, I took to you immediately – we’re sisters, right? – but I could sense that you were still holding back, trying to process a lot, and it was casting a shadow over you. These days, you seem more content.” She clasps Sorrel by the shoulder. “It can still take a lot of time to work through your past. I’m always here, Sorrel. You know that, right? I’m always here.”

Sorrel hears Velania’s words wash through her like a prayer that lifts her up closer to the light. Her soul fills with joy again, as it has before with this daughter of the universe. “When I say I owe you I mean that on a dirty street, you spoke to me and made me better. To do that for someone is the opposite of killing them, it is higher than healing them… you make them more than whole. And so when I fight for you, I am fighting for the best part of me.” She touches her heart, then her lips, then her brow. “You are here. And here you stay.”

Velania blinks rapidly. She is flustered by Sorrel’s frankness and open-heartedness and chuckles. “I have to confess, sometimes I inadvertently try to deceive you – I try so hard to project this sense that I know what I’m doing, to be this centre of calm for others… when honestly, from day to day, I feel a complete mess, Sorrel. I feel like I’m treading water, living in fear and questioning every decision I make. But when you put it like that, how can I deny you your debt? And how can I deny” – she touches her heart – “that you’re here too?”

“Then we are ready,” Sorrel says simply. “Because nothing can stand against us. We will find your man and bring him home and pray for the souls of anyone who tries to stop us.”



Continues in Mind Over Matter (Glint's writeup | Sorrel's writeup)

After Mind Over Matter, Velania continues in Silent Hill