Post by Velania Kalugina on Jul 9, 2022 18:29:43 GMT
Co-written with Zola Rhomdaen 💚🤍
Continues immediately after the events of Ex-Astris, the Season 10 finale
Velania has wandered downstairs uncharacteristically late in the morning. She is wearing a simple, off-white linen tunic, belted at the waist. It has creases in it from being hastily folded into her backpack and not being hung properly after arriving at the Fort.
Having drifted into the Great Hall by instinct, before realising she isn’t hungry, and frowning at the level of activity in and near there — people milling about, the noisy sounds of repair work, the loading and unloading of carts in the courtyard — she walks outside, blinking at the late morning sun. In the courtyard, she makes eye contact with a familiar drow woman, and stops dead in her tracks.
Zola is wearing a modest black dress and carrying a bouquet of white lilies in her hands, no weapons or armour in sight. Velania’s smile is muted, but she holds her hands out as she approaches Zola, limping with a slight stiffness to her body.
“Zola!” She hugs her warmly but carefully. “Sorry — I got poked in the ribs. Still a bit bruised on that side. Happy birthday, lovely. You look beautiful. But I thought you’d be at home today?”
The concern in Zola’s eyes and smile is plain as day. “Velania. Thank you — I… I heard from my mother Lillian that, um, that there were a lot of people who died, so I…” She lets out a sigh as she glances down at her mournful black dress and bouquet. “I thought I should come check in on you,” she continues, her voice growing smaller with every word. “Are… Are you okay?”
“I was going to send you a message… but I, er… Well, I’m alive, at least.” Velania shrugs on her good side. “The last two days have been a lot to take in.”
She gestures to the message board by the entrance to the fort — the one where adventurers come to find jobs. On it is pinned a single piece of paper. A list of names.
“Before you look at that… Silvia’s gone.” Velania’s voice is thick, and it is a struggle to utter the name.
It takes Zola a few seconds to process that. Velania watches as the other woman’s expression slowly morphs from concern to shock to sorrow. “My gods. A-and Sorrel? How is she?”
Velania opens her mouth. “I… haven’t seen her. I don’t know where she is. I was hoping she might be around here today, but…” She shrugs, helpless and crestfallen. “I haven’t been myself, Zola. I haven’t done this kind of thing before. War, battle, I’m still trying to take it all in… I think I’m still in shock — or at least, that’s what my diagnosis would be if someone else came to me in this state.”
Zola puts an arm around her shoulders. “Oh Velania, I don’t blame you for that,” she says in a gentle, soothing voice. “And… What about Coll? Is he alright?”
Velania swallows. “He’s… He’s not on the list. But he’s gone. I'm…” Her voice falters. She exhales heavily and speaks quietly. “He’s gone. They found him. They got the… Xeron up there. They merged. Mission successful, I guess,” she says bitterly. “I don’t even know what that means. But Coll is part of the city now. He left. He said he was sorry, I think. I kind of blanked out while he was talking to us. I almost threw up.”
Zola looks wildly confused. “Coll— Coll is… what? So what, he’s a— he’s a city now?”
“Hah… Yes, I think so.” Velania blinks rapidly and gesticulates. “I think he merged with the mages who animated the city, or took control of them or something. But I’m as confused as you are.”
The look on Zola’s face signals that she cannot even begin to comprehend all of this. The next words that come out of her mouth sound almost automatic: “Velania, I think we both need a drink.”
“Yes,” Velania says instantly, though with weariness. “But I don’t want to sit in there right now.” She points at the Great Hall. “Perhaps we can get something and take it further away. I need to get out of this place. There’s a copse of trees I go to about a quarter of a mile down the track. Perhaps it’s survived the battle.”
“Of course. Alright, I’ll pop in for a second to get us some drinks.”
“Stronger than tea,” Velania calls after her.
Zola turns around to dash into the Great Hall and almost runs into Jaezred Vandree, holding a metal tray. The drow nobleman has bandages on his hands and face, and partially-healed burn scars on other, visible parts of his skin; he is flanked by two women on either side of him, all three of them dressed in black — a spring eladrin with chin-length green hair under a wide-brimmed hat and a silver-haired half-elf whose features are obscured by a dark veil over her face.
“The Chosen!” Zola gasps out in Elvish. “Erm… I mean… Lord Jaezred, Lady Imryll.”
“Miss Oussviir,” says Jaezred, seeming equally surprised.
“Hello Zola, wasn’t expecting to see you here. I’m sorry about your birthday party,” the spring eladrin says, smiling.
“Oh, it’s fine,” Zola says quickly. “Um, please excuse me.”
She curtsies to the trio, which is returned with a slightly delayed bow from Jaezred, before dashing past them into the Great Hall proper. Jaezred exchanges a questioning look with the eladrin, then shakes his head slightly as the three of them proceed forward, pausing as they reach Velania. He extends the tray out to her and she sees what is in it: lush, golden-brown halfling hashes cut into the shape of foxes.
“Snack?” he asks her.
Velania smiles at him and nods to the other two. “Thank you, Lord Jaezred. May I take a couple? …For me and my friend,” she adds, rather redundantly.
He shrugs. “Go ahead.”
He gives her a nod as the three of them walk away, casting a lingering glance over his shoulder at the crystal-crowned girl now deep in the hall’s tavern.
Minutes later, Zola comes back hugging two armfuls of chilled gin and tonic glasses to her chest. “Okay, so where’s this place again?” she asks.
Velania walks Zola out of the fort and down the main east road for about 15 minutes. They walk at a slow pace — Velania with her bruises, Zola with her teetering armful of drinks. They pass churned-up fields, partially cleared of carcasses, but still littered with the detritus of an army — discarded broken weapons and equipment, already picked over several times. A flock of crows scatters as they pass, squawking overhead before settling once again to pick at the carrion.
A little further away, Velania veers off the road up to a small copse of trees. It looks to be a popular resting point where a few logs have been dragged to furnish benches. From here, there is a decent view of the fort, but none of the noise of construction or labour travel this far.
Fortunately, nobody else is here, and there are no signs of the invasion having touched this point. “When I first arrived and I was too shy to sit in the Great Hall, I used to come out here.” Velania laughs to herself. “Basically any time Coll was serving, I’d flee up to this spot.”
“It’s a nice hidden gem,” Zola remarks, though her gaze still lingers on the remnants of battle left in the distance. She carefully puts the myriad of cocktail glasses down on the ground one by one, placing one in Velania’s hand and one in her own, then sits down on a log.
The drow sips her chilled drink, letting the two of them relax in the quiet for a while before finally turning to her friend and saying, “Tell me what happened.”
Velania only takes a cautious sip at first with a curious frown, then approvingly nods and takes another to help focus. “Have you been in battle before? A clash of armies. This was a first for me. I told you the other day how terrifying the whole thing was to me. And yes, it lived up to all my expectations. The sound, the rage, the energy… It’s bewildering. I know some people find it thrilling — I don’t think it’s something I ever wish to repeat. I was with the dragons Qirliria and Zanathir, from the Court of Harmony. Do— did you know them?”
Zola shakes her head at both questions. “I’ve… never met a dragon.”
“Qirliria fell. She died defending us. Her mother, Zanathir, is devastated.” She looks sadly at Zola. “I met Qirliria once before. A stunning moonstone dragon, of shifting greens.” She gestures to her own pale green eyes. “Much the same colour.” She laughs wistfully. “I hadn’t met a dragon then either. I didn’t know how to address her. Does one use titles, bow and curtsy, flatter them like in the stories?”
“Moonstone dragons? Ah! They’re Feywild dragons.” Zola’s smile mirrors Velania's wistfulness. “They sound wonderful.”
“Ah, but you would have loved her, Zola. She was beautiful and mischievous and full of joy.” Velania’s face becomes neutral. “I was almost downed myself. One of their mages grabbed hold of me with magic, pulled me out of the air, and pinned me to the ground. I was helpless.” She touches her injured side lightly. “This looked a lot more serious two nights ago. And I was a long way from anyone who could help me. It was pretty humbling… and you’d think I’d be in shock about that, wouldn’t you?” She grins at Zola. “But strangely, it feels more like embarrassment at being so reckless. You have far more combat experience than I do — what’s the most embarrassing mistake you’ve made?”
“I stepped on my cloak once whilst sword-dancing. Nothing as scary as that!” Zola replies with a short, forced-sounding laugh. “So, I take it, you weren’t part of the team that got Co— Xeron into Gadenthor?”
The aasimar shakes her head glumly. “I would probably have been a liability. I mean, when we went inside Xeron’s head the other day, I was a little reckless then, wasn’t I?”
Zola puts a hand on Velania’s shoulder and rubs it comfortingly. “You were fine, Velania. Really, I think you’re too hard on yourself sometimes.”
Velania smiles appreciatively. “Well, Sorrel went. I think they were looking more for people like her — to move quickly and quietly. I did wish I could have been up there too — but perhaps that in itself is a good reason not to send someone. Honestly, if I’d have seen Coll talking with his own voice… I’m not sure how I'd have reacted.” She picks a pebble up and flicks it. “Better to send people without such a personal stake…”
Zola nods absently. “I just… I’m sorry, but I just don’t understand why he’d want to stay up there,”she says, and takes a big gulp from her glass.
Velania nods fervently and jabs her finger in the air, as if this is the one question that lacks an answer. “I don’t know if there was a choice or not. He explained it, but… all I was hearing was him saying ‘goodbye’. The rest of what he said kind of washed over me. At first, I thought, ‘He's still a prisoner, we have to help him,’ but everyone stood there, just listening. And when I realised, ‘No, he kind of wants this, or at least he's accepted it,’ all it did was make me tell myself he wanted to leave.” She sits bolt upright, making a firm sweeping gesture with her arm, nearly knocking her glass over. Her voice has become animated. “I had to get out of there. I couldn’t start delving into that. Not then. Not now.”
When Zola next opens her mouth to speak, Velania snaps, “He’s gone. That’s all there is to it. He’s not coming back.”
She exhales and speaks more calmly again. “I have to start getting used to the fact that he’s gone, Zola. This is day one of the rest of my life. I just…” She turns to her friend and takes her hand. “I don’t know how it all works, now. I wasn’t ready for this. It’s like I’ve been shoved off a cliff in the dark of night, and I’m falling, but I don’t know how far I’m going to fall.” She squeezes Zola’s hand tighter. “Does it… Is it getting any easier for you?”
Zola stares sadly into Velania’s eyes. “It does. I promise, it does get easier. And you have a lot of people here who can help you navigate this darkness. But gods — he’s a fool to have chosen that over you.”
“Time is a healer — I tell that to people at the temple all the time. It’s painful to realise you should be listening to your own advice.” Velania sips the dregs of her first cocktail. “But I don’t know if I feel like navigating anything at the moment. I think I just need rest.” She sits in silence for a few breaths, and then adds sadly, “I think it would be better if I didn’t come to Fort Ettin for a while. There’s too much of him in this place.”
“Yes, you need some space, Velania. Give yourself some room to breathe. Take it from me. It’s strange, but you’re going to start seeing him in… well, everywhere…”
Velania nods wistfully. Everywhere, there is a sweet and bitter painful Coll memory right now. She has been trying not to play this game, but it is all too easy a trap to fall into.
Zola picks up a second glass and lets out a heavy sigh as she looks up at the sky, shaking her head in disbelief. Then, with a bitter grin, she raises her new glass to Velania. “Here’s to the men in our lives who’d rather be dead or a city than stay with us,” she says drily.
Velania takes a second glass herself and raises it to Zola. “To the men… who aren’t in our lives any more. May we never need them back.” Zola scoffs and downs the glass in several gulps. Velania takes a deep draft, then lowers her glass with a sigh. “I have to say that now, because some day, I might start believing it.”
Zola only purses her lips as she ruminates on Velania’s words, picking up a third glass from the ground.
Velania kicks her legs idly against the tree trunk she is sitting on. “Have you ever been in love before, Zola? I thought I was, a few years before I came to the Dawnlands. I was being oh-so-melodramatic for such a sheltered little acolyte! But looking back, it was just infatuation — I realise that now. With Coll, though, it has shown me the difference. This time round, it has shattered me like nothing else…” She drifts off into a distant gaze.
“I… I think I have. Or maybe it was just infatuation too, I don’t know, because Ophanim felt different. So different,” answers Zola. She leans forward and props her chin up on a palm, whiffling softly. “It’s odd. Most of my previous relationships were pretty casual and open. We didn’t really mind if we saw other people whilst seeing each other. But with Ophanim… it’s like I have this jealousy over him. I wanted him to be mine and mine alone. Even now, I can’t stand the thought of him gallivanting off with some succubi in the fiend afterlife. Do they even have an afterlife?”
Zola realises that she is about to go on a weird, musing tangent about devil afterlives and shuts up. Likewise, Velania starts to voice a response about the afterlife, and stops herself with a tut. Zola turns her head to regard her with a small, sad smile. “When did you know you were in love with Coll?”
“I liked him when I first met him… over a year ago. There was something so kind about him that struck me. I used to look forward to coming here and catching up with him, but at the same time I started getting shy around him and it made me think, ‘What the hell is wrong with you?’” She leans forward and folds her arms, almost defensively. “I suppose when I went back home for several months, I realised I was missing him a lot. I woke up one day, and I didn’t have the words for it, but I just knew. Even then, I might not have done anything about it, were it not for Jackal turning up and knocking some sense into me… quite literally. I asked Coll out and then the gith attacked and…”
Velania breathes raggedly for a moment, bracing herself to continue. Zola puts an arm around her body. “We lost him. He died for a moment, and it was…” She shakes her head repeatedly, unable to go on.
“I knew then,” she says quietly. “That was when I knew.”
Zola rests her head on Velania’s shoulder in quiet, sympathetic silence.
After sitting in silence for a while, Velania continues. “I’m sorry, Zola, I’m making this such a shit birthday for you. I wish we were drinking and dancing somewhere, and we were both enjoying life, and you were showing me your home… Hah. Listen to me swearing like a common soldier. That’s because I mentioned Jackal. He has that effect.”
Velania hears a chuckle and a sniffle from the other woman. “It’s not your fault, Velania. It’s alright.” She sits up straight again to drain her glass by half. “I don’t get why you were so shy around him, though. You’re so beautiful, Velania! Like, you are one hell of a catch.”
Velania glances at her friend gratefully. “Well, I think he was shy around me too. I had to ask him out, after all!” She huffs amusedly. “Maybe that's why he turned into a flying city to get the hell away from me.”
She pulls apart from leaning into Zola and turns to face her. “We should make an agreement. No more unsuitable boyfriends. If you see me starting to make a mistake, you have to give me a wakeup call, and I’ll do the same for you. Not that either of us are ready to start looking for someone else yet… but one day, we will be, whether it’s in a month, a year”—she mutters dramatically—“or ten years or whatever.”
Zola laughs heartily. “Oh my gosh. Velania, that would be so good for me, but I can’t let you shoulder the burden of finding me a good boyfriend. And when I say ‘burden’ I do mean it! Seriously, I’ve told you, I have awful taste in men. I can’t do that to my friend.”
Velania picks up her third drink, falling behind Zola somewhat with the pace. “Well, at least come to me for my opinion? I know I am not the person to tell someone else what to do. But I can at least be there for you, you know?”
“Of course,” Zola says, smiling warmly. “And I’ll certainly tell you if you’re making a bad romantic decision. Though I can’t guarantee I’ll be a good judge of that!”
“As for me, I don’t think I’ll be dipping my toe in the water a while anyway. And who knows, maybe Coll will come back in that time. He might be missing the Fort… or even me, maybe…”
Zola nods wordlessly as she sips more gin and tonic. It is as if they both know what Velania is saying is unlikely to ever happen.
Suddenly, she puts her drink down and whips around to face Velania with an excited glimmer in her eyes. “Velania, I’m gonna say two words that could change your life,” she says, holding up a finger. “Speed. Dating. Now, I know what you’re thinking, but it’s really nothing more than chatting with a bunch of strangers for five minutes each. There’s no pressure to get together with anyone at all. It’s actually a great way to make new friends and build your confidence! I tried it once when I was new to the Dawnlands, it was really fun!”
Velania looks at Zola with a combination of amusement and horror. “That sounds surreal. I can see how it would be interesting to meet new people. But how does one check a partner's credentials so quickly? Do you just come out and ask them: are you part of a select team of cultists aiming to end the world? Is your mind currently in your body? Are you into… murderplay? Are you currently being hunted by pirates or are you open to it?”
“Well, I just ask them if they like long walks at the beach and laughter.” Zola grins. “I think the idea is, you can schedule a proper date with someone you like after that. Or just hook up casually. Oh, if you meet a guy named Carren in a speed dating event… He’s real cute and smooth, but”—her voice drops to a loud whisper as she leans in conspiratorially—“he’s actually mediocre in bed!”
Velania snorts, then blushes — though her face is somewhat flushed in any case. “I’ll be sure to keep this in mind, Zola,” she says with undisguised scepticism in her voice. “I think I’m a way off meeting anyone new at the moment, let alone romance or… anything else.” She looks to the ground in embarrassment. “I think I’m going to be doing what you did — just taking some time for myself for a while. That’s what you suggested I did anyway, isn’t it? But I think this time I will… and I mean it.” She glances at her friend thoughtfully. “You do look like you are doing a bit better. Not out of the woods yet, I imagine. But you do seem a little less… worn down by it now.”
Zola finishes her third glass with a big exhale. “Yeah. Yeah, that sounds good. You really do need a break, Vee. And yeah, I guess I’m a little better now. I’ve been coping better since… well, since I realised I can keep my promise to him.”
“Yeah, now we’re done repelling this invasion, there are enough heroes here to take care of other business for a while. I will have to find something to tell Melissa at the temple, though…” Velania is almost muttering to herself at this point.
A gentle breeze sweeps the hilltop. Velania watches it play with the tall meadow grasses around their copse of trees. “Your promise?”
Zola gazes up at the afternoon sky. It's blue and beautiful — the night will surely be clear. Her amber eyes seem clouded and distant.
“‘Our story will be written in the stars.’ That’s what I promised him right before he died,” she says, her voice soft as the breeze.
Velania inhales and exhales heavily. There are no words.
Zola glances down at the obscene amount of cocktails at their feet. “Do you think we can finish all of these?” she muses out loud.
Velania sighs, wide-eyed. “To be honest, I’ve already drunk more than I have had in years. I don’t think I can handle a lot more, but as long as I can get up in the morning and pack without my head exploding, I have nothing else I need to be doing right now.” She takes Zola’s hand. “So, you tell me: if you want me to toast your birthday until we hit the last one, I’m your girl.”
A wide, happy grin breaks across Zola’s face. “You're on! Besides, I can cure poison and disease. How bad can it really get?”
Velania smirks. “Well, you don’t need to cure us just yet…”
Continues immediately after the events of Ex-Astris, the Season 10 finale
Velania has wandered downstairs uncharacteristically late in the morning. She is wearing a simple, off-white linen tunic, belted at the waist. It has creases in it from being hastily folded into her backpack and not being hung properly after arriving at the Fort.
Having drifted into the Great Hall by instinct, before realising she isn’t hungry, and frowning at the level of activity in and near there — people milling about, the noisy sounds of repair work, the loading and unloading of carts in the courtyard — she walks outside, blinking at the late morning sun. In the courtyard, she makes eye contact with a familiar drow woman, and stops dead in her tracks.
Zola is wearing a modest black dress and carrying a bouquet of white lilies in her hands, no weapons or armour in sight. Velania’s smile is muted, but she holds her hands out as she approaches Zola, limping with a slight stiffness to her body.
“Zola!” She hugs her warmly but carefully. “Sorry — I got poked in the ribs. Still a bit bruised on that side. Happy birthday, lovely. You look beautiful. But I thought you’d be at home today?”
The concern in Zola’s eyes and smile is plain as day. “Velania. Thank you — I… I heard from my mother Lillian that, um, that there were a lot of people who died, so I…” She lets out a sigh as she glances down at her mournful black dress and bouquet. “I thought I should come check in on you,” she continues, her voice growing smaller with every word. “Are… Are you okay?”
“I was going to send you a message… but I, er… Well, I’m alive, at least.” Velania shrugs on her good side. “The last two days have been a lot to take in.”
She gestures to the message board by the entrance to the fort — the one where adventurers come to find jobs. On it is pinned a single piece of paper. A list of names.
“Before you look at that… Silvia’s gone.” Velania’s voice is thick, and it is a struggle to utter the name.
It takes Zola a few seconds to process that. Velania watches as the other woman’s expression slowly morphs from concern to shock to sorrow. “My gods. A-and Sorrel? How is she?”
Velania opens her mouth. “I… haven’t seen her. I don’t know where she is. I was hoping she might be around here today, but…” She shrugs, helpless and crestfallen. “I haven’t been myself, Zola. I haven’t done this kind of thing before. War, battle, I’m still trying to take it all in… I think I’m still in shock — or at least, that’s what my diagnosis would be if someone else came to me in this state.”
Zola puts an arm around her shoulders. “Oh Velania, I don’t blame you for that,” she says in a gentle, soothing voice. “And… What about Coll? Is he alright?”
Velania swallows. “He’s… He’s not on the list. But he’s gone. I'm…” Her voice falters. She exhales heavily and speaks quietly. “He’s gone. They found him. They got the… Xeron up there. They merged. Mission successful, I guess,” she says bitterly. “I don’t even know what that means. But Coll is part of the city now. He left. He said he was sorry, I think. I kind of blanked out while he was talking to us. I almost threw up.”
Zola looks wildly confused. “Coll— Coll is… what? So what, he’s a— he’s a city now?”
“Hah… Yes, I think so.” Velania blinks rapidly and gesticulates. “I think he merged with the mages who animated the city, or took control of them or something. But I’m as confused as you are.”
The look on Zola’s face signals that she cannot even begin to comprehend all of this. The next words that come out of her mouth sound almost automatic: “Velania, I think we both need a drink.”
“Yes,” Velania says instantly, though with weariness. “But I don’t want to sit in there right now.” She points at the Great Hall. “Perhaps we can get something and take it further away. I need to get out of this place. There’s a copse of trees I go to about a quarter of a mile down the track. Perhaps it’s survived the battle.”
“Of course. Alright, I’ll pop in for a second to get us some drinks.”
“Stronger than tea,” Velania calls after her.
Zola turns around to dash into the Great Hall and almost runs into Jaezred Vandree, holding a metal tray. The drow nobleman has bandages on his hands and face, and partially-healed burn scars on other, visible parts of his skin; he is flanked by two women on either side of him, all three of them dressed in black — a spring eladrin with chin-length green hair under a wide-brimmed hat and a silver-haired half-elf whose features are obscured by a dark veil over her face.
“The Chosen!” Zola gasps out in Elvish. “Erm… I mean… Lord Jaezred, Lady Imryll.”
“Miss Oussviir,” says Jaezred, seeming equally surprised.
“Hello Zola, wasn’t expecting to see you here. I’m sorry about your birthday party,” the spring eladrin says, smiling.
“Oh, it’s fine,” Zola says quickly. “Um, please excuse me.”
She curtsies to the trio, which is returned with a slightly delayed bow from Jaezred, before dashing past them into the Great Hall proper. Jaezred exchanges a questioning look with the eladrin, then shakes his head slightly as the three of them proceed forward, pausing as they reach Velania. He extends the tray out to her and she sees what is in it: lush, golden-brown halfling hashes cut into the shape of foxes.
“Snack?” he asks her.
Velania smiles at him and nods to the other two. “Thank you, Lord Jaezred. May I take a couple? …For me and my friend,” she adds, rather redundantly.
He shrugs. “Go ahead.”
He gives her a nod as the three of them walk away, casting a lingering glance over his shoulder at the crystal-crowned girl now deep in the hall’s tavern.
Minutes later, Zola comes back hugging two armfuls of chilled gin and tonic glasses to her chest. “Okay, so where’s this place again?” she asks.
Velania walks Zola out of the fort and down the main east road for about 15 minutes. They walk at a slow pace — Velania with her bruises, Zola with her teetering armful of drinks. They pass churned-up fields, partially cleared of carcasses, but still littered with the detritus of an army — discarded broken weapons and equipment, already picked over several times. A flock of crows scatters as they pass, squawking overhead before settling once again to pick at the carrion.
A little further away, Velania veers off the road up to a small copse of trees. It looks to be a popular resting point where a few logs have been dragged to furnish benches. From here, there is a decent view of the fort, but none of the noise of construction or labour travel this far.
Fortunately, nobody else is here, and there are no signs of the invasion having touched this point. “When I first arrived and I was too shy to sit in the Great Hall, I used to come out here.” Velania laughs to herself. “Basically any time Coll was serving, I’d flee up to this spot.”
“It’s a nice hidden gem,” Zola remarks, though her gaze still lingers on the remnants of battle left in the distance. She carefully puts the myriad of cocktail glasses down on the ground one by one, placing one in Velania’s hand and one in her own, then sits down on a log.
The drow sips her chilled drink, letting the two of them relax in the quiet for a while before finally turning to her friend and saying, “Tell me what happened.”
Velania only takes a cautious sip at first with a curious frown, then approvingly nods and takes another to help focus. “Have you been in battle before? A clash of armies. This was a first for me. I told you the other day how terrifying the whole thing was to me. And yes, it lived up to all my expectations. The sound, the rage, the energy… It’s bewildering. I know some people find it thrilling — I don’t think it’s something I ever wish to repeat. I was with the dragons Qirliria and Zanathir, from the Court of Harmony. Do— did you know them?”
Zola shakes her head at both questions. “I’ve… never met a dragon.”
“Qirliria fell. She died defending us. Her mother, Zanathir, is devastated.” She looks sadly at Zola. “I met Qirliria once before. A stunning moonstone dragon, of shifting greens.” She gestures to her own pale green eyes. “Much the same colour.” She laughs wistfully. “I hadn’t met a dragon then either. I didn’t know how to address her. Does one use titles, bow and curtsy, flatter them like in the stories?”
“Moonstone dragons? Ah! They’re Feywild dragons.” Zola’s smile mirrors Velania's wistfulness. “They sound wonderful.”
“Ah, but you would have loved her, Zola. She was beautiful and mischievous and full of joy.” Velania’s face becomes neutral. “I was almost downed myself. One of their mages grabbed hold of me with magic, pulled me out of the air, and pinned me to the ground. I was helpless.” She touches her injured side lightly. “This looked a lot more serious two nights ago. And I was a long way from anyone who could help me. It was pretty humbling… and you’d think I’d be in shock about that, wouldn’t you?” She grins at Zola. “But strangely, it feels more like embarrassment at being so reckless. You have far more combat experience than I do — what’s the most embarrassing mistake you’ve made?”
“I stepped on my cloak once whilst sword-dancing. Nothing as scary as that!” Zola replies with a short, forced-sounding laugh. “So, I take it, you weren’t part of the team that got Co— Xeron into Gadenthor?”
The aasimar shakes her head glumly. “I would probably have been a liability. I mean, when we went inside Xeron’s head the other day, I was a little reckless then, wasn’t I?”
Zola puts a hand on Velania’s shoulder and rubs it comfortingly. “You were fine, Velania. Really, I think you’re too hard on yourself sometimes.”
Velania smiles appreciatively. “Well, Sorrel went. I think they were looking more for people like her — to move quickly and quietly. I did wish I could have been up there too — but perhaps that in itself is a good reason not to send someone. Honestly, if I’d have seen Coll talking with his own voice… I’m not sure how I'd have reacted.” She picks a pebble up and flicks it. “Better to send people without such a personal stake…”
Zola nods absently. “I just… I’m sorry, but I just don’t understand why he’d want to stay up there,”she says, and takes a big gulp from her glass.
Velania nods fervently and jabs her finger in the air, as if this is the one question that lacks an answer. “I don’t know if there was a choice or not. He explained it, but… all I was hearing was him saying ‘goodbye’. The rest of what he said kind of washed over me. At first, I thought, ‘He's still a prisoner, we have to help him,’ but everyone stood there, just listening. And when I realised, ‘No, he kind of wants this, or at least he's accepted it,’ all it did was make me tell myself he wanted to leave.” She sits bolt upright, making a firm sweeping gesture with her arm, nearly knocking her glass over. Her voice has become animated. “I had to get out of there. I couldn’t start delving into that. Not then. Not now.”
When Zola next opens her mouth to speak, Velania snaps, “He’s gone. That’s all there is to it. He’s not coming back.”
She exhales and speaks more calmly again. “I have to start getting used to the fact that he’s gone, Zola. This is day one of the rest of my life. I just…” She turns to her friend and takes her hand. “I don’t know how it all works, now. I wasn’t ready for this. It’s like I’ve been shoved off a cliff in the dark of night, and I’m falling, but I don’t know how far I’m going to fall.” She squeezes Zola’s hand tighter. “Does it… Is it getting any easier for you?”
Zola stares sadly into Velania’s eyes. “It does. I promise, it does get easier. And you have a lot of people here who can help you navigate this darkness. But gods — he’s a fool to have chosen that over you.”
“Time is a healer — I tell that to people at the temple all the time. It’s painful to realise you should be listening to your own advice.” Velania sips the dregs of her first cocktail. “But I don’t know if I feel like navigating anything at the moment. I think I just need rest.” She sits in silence for a few breaths, and then adds sadly, “I think it would be better if I didn’t come to Fort Ettin for a while. There’s too much of him in this place.”
“Yes, you need some space, Velania. Give yourself some room to breathe. Take it from me. It’s strange, but you’re going to start seeing him in… well, everywhere…”
Velania nods wistfully. Everywhere, there is a sweet and bitter painful Coll memory right now. She has been trying not to play this game, but it is all too easy a trap to fall into.
Zola picks up a second glass and lets out a heavy sigh as she looks up at the sky, shaking her head in disbelief. Then, with a bitter grin, she raises her new glass to Velania. “Here’s to the men in our lives who’d rather be dead or a city than stay with us,” she says drily.
Velania takes a second glass herself and raises it to Zola. “To the men… who aren’t in our lives any more. May we never need them back.” Zola scoffs and downs the glass in several gulps. Velania takes a deep draft, then lowers her glass with a sigh. “I have to say that now, because some day, I might start believing it.”
Zola only purses her lips as she ruminates on Velania’s words, picking up a third glass from the ground.
Velania kicks her legs idly against the tree trunk she is sitting on. “Have you ever been in love before, Zola? I thought I was, a few years before I came to the Dawnlands. I was being oh-so-melodramatic for such a sheltered little acolyte! But looking back, it was just infatuation — I realise that now. With Coll, though, it has shown me the difference. This time round, it has shattered me like nothing else…” She drifts off into a distant gaze.
“I… I think I have. Or maybe it was just infatuation too, I don’t know, because Ophanim felt different. So different,” answers Zola. She leans forward and props her chin up on a palm, whiffling softly. “It’s odd. Most of my previous relationships were pretty casual and open. We didn’t really mind if we saw other people whilst seeing each other. But with Ophanim… it’s like I have this jealousy over him. I wanted him to be mine and mine alone. Even now, I can’t stand the thought of him gallivanting off with some succubi in the fiend afterlife. Do they even have an afterlife?”
Zola realises that she is about to go on a weird, musing tangent about devil afterlives and shuts up. Likewise, Velania starts to voice a response about the afterlife, and stops herself with a tut. Zola turns her head to regard her with a small, sad smile. “When did you know you were in love with Coll?”
“I liked him when I first met him… over a year ago. There was something so kind about him that struck me. I used to look forward to coming here and catching up with him, but at the same time I started getting shy around him and it made me think, ‘What the hell is wrong with you?’” She leans forward and folds her arms, almost defensively. “I suppose when I went back home for several months, I realised I was missing him a lot. I woke up one day, and I didn’t have the words for it, but I just knew. Even then, I might not have done anything about it, were it not for Jackal turning up and knocking some sense into me… quite literally. I asked Coll out and then the gith attacked and…”
Velania breathes raggedly for a moment, bracing herself to continue. Zola puts an arm around her body. “We lost him. He died for a moment, and it was…” She shakes her head repeatedly, unable to go on.
“I knew then,” she says quietly. “That was when I knew.”
Zola rests her head on Velania’s shoulder in quiet, sympathetic silence.
After sitting in silence for a while, Velania continues. “I’m sorry, Zola, I’m making this such a shit birthday for you. I wish we were drinking and dancing somewhere, and we were both enjoying life, and you were showing me your home… Hah. Listen to me swearing like a common soldier. That’s because I mentioned Jackal. He has that effect.”
Velania hears a chuckle and a sniffle from the other woman. “It’s not your fault, Velania. It’s alright.” She sits up straight again to drain her glass by half. “I don’t get why you were so shy around him, though. You’re so beautiful, Velania! Like, you are one hell of a catch.”
Velania glances at her friend gratefully. “Well, I think he was shy around me too. I had to ask him out, after all!” She huffs amusedly. “Maybe that's why he turned into a flying city to get the hell away from me.”
She pulls apart from leaning into Zola and turns to face her. “We should make an agreement. No more unsuitable boyfriends. If you see me starting to make a mistake, you have to give me a wakeup call, and I’ll do the same for you. Not that either of us are ready to start looking for someone else yet… but one day, we will be, whether it’s in a month, a year”—she mutters dramatically—“or ten years or whatever.”
Zola laughs heartily. “Oh my gosh. Velania, that would be so good for me, but I can’t let you shoulder the burden of finding me a good boyfriend. And when I say ‘burden’ I do mean it! Seriously, I’ve told you, I have awful taste in men. I can’t do that to my friend.”
Velania picks up her third drink, falling behind Zola somewhat with the pace. “Well, at least come to me for my opinion? I know I am not the person to tell someone else what to do. But I can at least be there for you, you know?”
“Of course,” Zola says, smiling warmly. “And I’ll certainly tell you if you’re making a bad romantic decision. Though I can’t guarantee I’ll be a good judge of that!”
“As for me, I don’t think I’ll be dipping my toe in the water a while anyway. And who knows, maybe Coll will come back in that time. He might be missing the Fort… or even me, maybe…”
Zola nods wordlessly as she sips more gin and tonic. It is as if they both know what Velania is saying is unlikely to ever happen.
Suddenly, she puts her drink down and whips around to face Velania with an excited glimmer in her eyes. “Velania, I’m gonna say two words that could change your life,” she says, holding up a finger. “Speed. Dating. Now, I know what you’re thinking, but it’s really nothing more than chatting with a bunch of strangers for five minutes each. There’s no pressure to get together with anyone at all. It’s actually a great way to make new friends and build your confidence! I tried it once when I was new to the Dawnlands, it was really fun!”
Velania looks at Zola with a combination of amusement and horror. “That sounds surreal. I can see how it would be interesting to meet new people. But how does one check a partner's credentials so quickly? Do you just come out and ask them: are you part of a select team of cultists aiming to end the world? Is your mind currently in your body? Are you into… murderplay? Are you currently being hunted by pirates or are you open to it?”
“Well, I just ask them if they like long walks at the beach and laughter.” Zola grins. “I think the idea is, you can schedule a proper date with someone you like after that. Or just hook up casually. Oh, if you meet a guy named Carren in a speed dating event… He’s real cute and smooth, but”—her voice drops to a loud whisper as she leans in conspiratorially—“he’s actually mediocre in bed!”
Velania snorts, then blushes — though her face is somewhat flushed in any case. “I’ll be sure to keep this in mind, Zola,” she says with undisguised scepticism in her voice. “I think I’m a way off meeting anyone new at the moment, let alone romance or… anything else.” She looks to the ground in embarrassment. “I think I’m going to be doing what you did — just taking some time for myself for a while. That’s what you suggested I did anyway, isn’t it? But I think this time I will… and I mean it.” She glances at her friend thoughtfully. “You do look like you are doing a bit better. Not out of the woods yet, I imagine. But you do seem a little less… worn down by it now.”
Zola finishes her third glass with a big exhale. “Yeah. Yeah, that sounds good. You really do need a break, Vee. And yeah, I guess I’m a little better now. I’ve been coping better since… well, since I realised I can keep my promise to him.”
“Yeah, now we’re done repelling this invasion, there are enough heroes here to take care of other business for a while. I will have to find something to tell Melissa at the temple, though…” Velania is almost muttering to herself at this point.
A gentle breeze sweeps the hilltop. Velania watches it play with the tall meadow grasses around their copse of trees. “Your promise?”
Zola gazes up at the afternoon sky. It's blue and beautiful — the night will surely be clear. Her amber eyes seem clouded and distant.
“‘Our story will be written in the stars.’ That’s what I promised him right before he died,” she says, her voice soft as the breeze.
Velania inhales and exhales heavily. There are no words.
Zola glances down at the obscene amount of cocktails at their feet. “Do you think we can finish all of these?” she muses out loud.
Velania sighs, wide-eyed. “To be honest, I’ve already drunk more than I have had in years. I don’t think I can handle a lot more, but as long as I can get up in the morning and pack without my head exploding, I have nothing else I need to be doing right now.” She takes Zola’s hand. “So, you tell me: if you want me to toast your birthday until we hit the last one, I’m your girl.”
A wide, happy grin breaks across Zola’s face. “You're on! Besides, I can cure poison and disease. How bad can it really get?”
Velania smirks. “Well, you don’t need to cure us just yet…”