Ithiliôn (Velania and An’Ahkrim)
Jun 3, 2023 19:31:42 GMT
Jaezred Vandree, Lykksie, and 2 more like this
Post by Velania Kalugina on Jun 3, 2023 19:31:42 GMT
Following immediately after the events of Minas Morgul
Co-written with the magnificent Lykksie 💜🤍
1500. An’Ahkrim’s cabin, outside Daring Heights, Kantas.
An’Ahkrim is quiet the next day. Not an unusual occurrence – he did live alone for months – and Velania doesn’t mind the quiet.
It’s not a tense silence. It’s a thoughtful but calm quiet between them, interspersed with the touch of a hand when he makes her a cup of tea, a gentle kiss before he returns to his musings.
The sun warms them as it passes overhead. The lavender is in full bloom and the bumblebees drone lazily in the small garden patch.
It’s an endless moment of peace…, which means Velania can feel it change the second it happens, like a chill breeze suddenly sweeping over her. She looks over to where he’s nursing a large mug of tea and staring at blankly at the twilight. An’Ahkrim is frowning.
Velania closes her book and gets to her feet to join him on the soft grass before he even has to ask.
His hand finds hers and he pulls her to his left side, still not looking at her. His purple eyes are scanning the sky fervently.
“Show me,” he tells her. “Show me the sisters together.”
Curious, she looks into his warm eyes, before reading something new in them – no, not new. Whatever she is reading in him, she trusts that it was always there. She feels it in her heart.
Still holding his hand, she closes her eyes to concentrate. Whispering in Celestial, she gestures one-handed, drawing upon all the heavenly bodies of the firmament. One by one, the stars glow into existence around them, drawn as if by the winds of the universe, and grouping in clusters, then constellations. The garden is bathed in a sacred radiant light.
She breathes life into the constellations, and they begin to float around the two lovers, mirroring the journeys they take across the Toril skies.
Still holding her focus, she opens her eyes and looks back up to An’Ahkrim. Stars slowly pass them by, sending a gentle waxing and waning of light and shade across their faces. Starlight sparkles in her eyes as she looks at An’Ahkrim questioningly.
She frowns pensively. “Something’s different. I don’t know what. But I can feel it.”
Tears are welling in his eyes, threatening to spill over. He smiles, a little bewildered. He opens his mouth to speak, and then chokes on his breath.
He shudders once, twice, almost convulsing. He learns forward, curling in on himself. His right hand comes up to his chest in a painfully familiar gesture, one she’d last seen when she visited him in the Angelbark the first time. But this time he isn’t clawing at his new soul to get at the fresh pain, he’s pressing his hand over his heart as if to protect it.
“What is– no. No.”
He looks up at the sky again, pleading. “Don’t take it from me. Please. I can’t–”
He turns to her, clutching her hand so tight she can feel the bones in her hand creak in protest. “Velania. Don’t let them… Je’Sathriel. Get–”
A cold fear creeps across her face as she watches him writhing. Despite being a priestess who is used to seeing messages and visions arrive in many forms, the discomfort in his body shocks her. She feels a primal surge of protectiveness that she knows all too well. The instinct that forever aches inside. The instinct she tries her best to suppress. Her grip tightens on him, as if trying to anchor him to her side.
“I’m right here,” she says gently to reassure him. She holds him as steady as she can, and breathes hard to keep her voice calm. “Je’Sathriel what? Focus, An’Ahkrim. What’s happening?”
He breathes through clenched teeth, in clear discomfort and fear. “Get. Him. Get. The Jackal.”
She gives the barest hint of a nod, and her eyes glaze over immediately. She reaches for her connection to the archangel…
Je’Sathriel. An’Ahkrim’s asking for you now. He’s in pain, and something’s happening to him, but I don’t know what to do. Can you help us?
There is the distant sound of rolling thunder and in an arc of light, a figure descends from the heavens, landing heavily on one knee before them, wings outstretched – it reminds her of the Azellah, and for a moment it’s all too familiar, too raw, and she shudders at those chilling memories. But then the Jackal straightens and looks her in the eye, steady as a rock, and she can breathe again.
“The fuck did he do now?”
The Archangel looks at the risen devil at his feet with what the untrained eye might call disdain… but Velania sees the confusion and the concern he’s swallowing down like bitter drink.
An’Ahkrim lifts his gaze for a moment, naked fear plain on his face. “Je’Sathriel,” he says, almost begging, “something’s wrong… my…” He clutches at his sternum again, almost panicking.
“Something’s changing… but I didn’t… don’t let them take it from me…”
The Jackal takes a step forward, alarmed, but stops suddenly, cocking his head and looking between them. He looks around at the stars and shapes Velania has conjured, shrouding him like a heavenly cloak, and then back to An’Ahkrim. Then he snorts.
Velania is still holding An’Ahkrim’s hand… or being gripped tightly by him; it’s hard to tell. She gently pulls him closer. “Something’s different, Je’Sathriel. Is this to do with Sorrel’s sisters? Or what I did at the tower…”
He rolls his eyes. “No,” he says, dismissively. It’s funny how someone’s condescension can be comforting, Velania thinks.
He crouches in front of them both, folding his wings behind him. He lays a large, callused hand on the side of An’Ahkrim’s face with the usual surprising gentleness that always belies the Jackal’s rough words. He tilts An’Ahkrim’s head up until purple eyes meet grey straight on, until there is no place to hide.
“Will you calm the fuck down,” he says. “You’re fine.”
Velania frowns at the archangel. “He’s in pain, Je’Sathriel. It came on suddenly. This kind of thing hasn’t happened before. Not like this…” Even after declaring this, she turns hesitantly to An’Ahkrim, doubting her words. “… has it?”
The Jackal rolls his eyes again. “It’s not pain, it’s change. Am I right?”
An’Ahkrim clings to them both, Velania in his left and his right so tight on the Jackal’s arm that his knuckles are white. But his face is looking less fearful and more confused by the second. Velania thinks she spies just a sliver of embarrassment as well.
“I’m right. I’m always right. An’ you’re scared because you think somethin’ changin’ in your soul means it’s going away, ain’t you?” Again, the Jackal’s words are gruff, almost stern, but he’s still got a hand on An’Ahkrim’s face. His other comes up to rest assuringly on Velania’s shoulder. “They’re not takin’ your soul, An’Ahkrim,” he says quietly, his voice like the distant thunder from a moment ago.
Velania stares at the Jackal, her own sheepishness apparent, then glances at An’Ahkrim. “What’s happening, love?”
He shakes his head a little, still trying to calm his breathing. An oblivious bumblebee buzzes past his ear, and he looks decidedly chagrined. “I don’t know,” he says, a little sullenly.
A grin tugs at the corner of Je’Sathriel’s mouth. “Lucky for you, boy, I do. Now get up.”
He takes his hands off both of them and stands up to his full height, wings spreading out behind again. He looks down at An’Ahkrim, the challenge clear in his eyes, daring him to stay where he is.
With a surge of relief, Velania relaxes somewhat. She glances between the two men, wondering for a moment whether this is going to turn into a laconic stand-off. She releases An’Ahkrim’s hand, but keeps his gaze. It’s clear she is not creating distance between them, but simply turning to face him fully. She looks at him expectantly.
An’Ahkrim studies the Jackal. For a moment a shadow of his past self flickers in his eyes, the proud and cold devil, but it melts away as quickly as it came. The two men glare at each other and were they any other, Velania would think they were about to trade blows, but… “Him and me, we’re connected. Fundamentally. And very different. And so similar in other ways.”
She thinks that she might never understand what it is they share, but nonetheless she is glad that they have it.
An’Ahkrim stands up, dusting himself off.
The two look at each other with the same dry, expectant expression. “Well?” says the Jackal.
“Well what?”
“Do something.”
“Yes, thank you, that explains so much.”
“Do magic, you idiot.”
“My magic is gone, which you very well know, you smug bast–”
“Is it?”
The crescent moon on An’Ahkrim’s forehead, the symbol of Selûne lined with the symbol of Shar, glows softly. An’Ahkrim’s eyes widen like saucers.
“Do something.”
Velania’s face softens, and she directs An’Ahkrim’s gaze to her spirit guardians. There, among the constellations still surrounding the three of them, floats the same waxing crescent moon in silver, overlaying the purple moon of Shar. “An’Ahkrim. It isn’t just you and Je’Sathriel. We are connected. Can’t you sense it?”
His eyes still wide with disbelief, An’Ahkrim raises a trembling hand to the stars glittering around them. A few of them detach and circle his fingers like the curious fireflies – his one remaining party trick – and he gathers them up in a fist before flinging them straight at Velania. She does not flinch, and watches him with trust. A faint aura surrounds her, steels her mind and protects her from harm. A Shield of Faith settles around her, his faith in her, in them, in the unity between the Sisters and in the balance of their existence.
An’Ahkrim exhales quietly. The tears from before well up again, this time spilling over.
“Congrats,” the Jackal says, bone dry.
Velania doesn’t even notice the Jackal’s sarcasm. She blinks away her own tears and gazes at An’Ahkrim with all the warmth in her heart. A sudden surge of energy enters the constellations encircling them. They glow with a renewed intensity, dazzling and fierce with holy power. With love.
The Jackal clears his throat and adds, matter-of-factly, “You’ve ended the Unending Word. Neither of us will fall again.”
Velania’s attention snaps to him with surprise. The power of his statement rings in her ears with all the clamour of the heavens. Her heart is pounding.
The Archangel of Selûne doesn’t say anything more. He looks at her, letting the words float around the three of them.
An’Ahkrim lets his tears flow silently down his cheeks as the stars whirl around him.
Velania returns Je’Sathriel’s gaze, tears in her eyes. Keeping his gaze, she slips her arm around An’Ahkrim’s and interlaces her fingers with his. She smiles at the archangel warmly. Kindly. But with humility. She knows but a fragment of what the Unending Word has meant for him, but still, that fragment is larger and heavier than any burden she has ever borne.
He ducks his head slightly. “Good job, kid.”
She isn’t sure if he’s talking to her or An’Ahkrim.
And then he’s gone.
Co-written with the magnificent Lykksie 💜🤍
1500. An’Ahkrim’s cabin, outside Daring Heights, Kantas.
An’Ahkrim is quiet the next day. Not an unusual occurrence – he did live alone for months – and Velania doesn’t mind the quiet.
It’s not a tense silence. It’s a thoughtful but calm quiet between them, interspersed with the touch of a hand when he makes her a cup of tea, a gentle kiss before he returns to his musings.
The sun warms them as it passes overhead. The lavender is in full bloom and the bumblebees drone lazily in the small garden patch.
It’s an endless moment of peace…, which means Velania can feel it change the second it happens, like a chill breeze suddenly sweeping over her. She looks over to where he’s nursing a large mug of tea and staring at blankly at the twilight. An’Ahkrim is frowning.
Velania closes her book and gets to her feet to join him on the soft grass before he even has to ask.
His hand finds hers and he pulls her to his left side, still not looking at her. His purple eyes are scanning the sky fervently.
“Show me,” he tells her. “Show me the sisters together.”
Curious, she looks into his warm eyes, before reading something new in them – no, not new. Whatever she is reading in him, she trusts that it was always there. She feels it in her heart.
Still holding his hand, she closes her eyes to concentrate. Whispering in Celestial, she gestures one-handed, drawing upon all the heavenly bodies of the firmament. One by one, the stars glow into existence around them, drawn as if by the winds of the universe, and grouping in clusters, then constellations. The garden is bathed in a sacred radiant light.
She breathes life into the constellations, and they begin to float around the two lovers, mirroring the journeys they take across the Toril skies.
Still holding her focus, she opens her eyes and looks back up to An’Ahkrim. Stars slowly pass them by, sending a gentle waxing and waning of light and shade across their faces. Starlight sparkles in her eyes as she looks at An’Ahkrim questioningly.
She frowns pensively. “Something’s different. I don’t know what. But I can feel it.”
Tears are welling in his eyes, threatening to spill over. He smiles, a little bewildered. He opens his mouth to speak, and then chokes on his breath.
He shudders once, twice, almost convulsing. He learns forward, curling in on himself. His right hand comes up to his chest in a painfully familiar gesture, one she’d last seen when she visited him in the Angelbark the first time. But this time he isn’t clawing at his new soul to get at the fresh pain, he’s pressing his hand over his heart as if to protect it.
“What is– no. No.”
He looks up at the sky again, pleading. “Don’t take it from me. Please. I can’t–”
He turns to her, clutching her hand so tight she can feel the bones in her hand creak in protest. “Velania. Don’t let them… Je’Sathriel. Get–”
A cold fear creeps across her face as she watches him writhing. Despite being a priestess who is used to seeing messages and visions arrive in many forms, the discomfort in his body shocks her. She feels a primal surge of protectiveness that she knows all too well. The instinct that forever aches inside. The instinct she tries her best to suppress. Her grip tightens on him, as if trying to anchor him to her side.
“I’m right here,” she says gently to reassure him. She holds him as steady as she can, and breathes hard to keep her voice calm. “Je’Sathriel what? Focus, An’Ahkrim. What’s happening?”
He breathes through clenched teeth, in clear discomfort and fear. “Get. Him. Get. The Jackal.”
She gives the barest hint of a nod, and her eyes glaze over immediately. She reaches for her connection to the archangel…
Je’Sathriel. An’Ahkrim’s asking for you now. He’s in pain, and something’s happening to him, but I don’t know what to do. Can you help us?
There is the distant sound of rolling thunder and in an arc of light, a figure descends from the heavens, landing heavily on one knee before them, wings outstretched – it reminds her of the Azellah, and for a moment it’s all too familiar, too raw, and she shudders at those chilling memories. But then the Jackal straightens and looks her in the eye, steady as a rock, and she can breathe again.
“The fuck did he do now?”
The Archangel looks at the risen devil at his feet with what the untrained eye might call disdain… but Velania sees the confusion and the concern he’s swallowing down like bitter drink.
An’Ahkrim lifts his gaze for a moment, naked fear plain on his face. “Je’Sathriel,” he says, almost begging, “something’s wrong… my…” He clutches at his sternum again, almost panicking.
“Something’s changing… but I didn’t… don’t let them take it from me…”
The Jackal takes a step forward, alarmed, but stops suddenly, cocking his head and looking between them. He looks around at the stars and shapes Velania has conjured, shrouding him like a heavenly cloak, and then back to An’Ahkrim. Then he snorts.
Velania is still holding An’Ahkrim’s hand… or being gripped tightly by him; it’s hard to tell. She gently pulls him closer. “Something’s different, Je’Sathriel. Is this to do with Sorrel’s sisters? Or what I did at the tower…”
He rolls his eyes. “No,” he says, dismissively. It’s funny how someone’s condescension can be comforting, Velania thinks.
He crouches in front of them both, folding his wings behind him. He lays a large, callused hand on the side of An’Ahkrim’s face with the usual surprising gentleness that always belies the Jackal’s rough words. He tilts An’Ahkrim’s head up until purple eyes meet grey straight on, until there is no place to hide.
“Will you calm the fuck down,” he says. “You’re fine.”
Velania frowns at the archangel. “He’s in pain, Je’Sathriel. It came on suddenly. This kind of thing hasn’t happened before. Not like this…” Even after declaring this, she turns hesitantly to An’Ahkrim, doubting her words. “… has it?”
The Jackal rolls his eyes again. “It’s not pain, it’s change. Am I right?”
An’Ahkrim clings to them both, Velania in his left and his right so tight on the Jackal’s arm that his knuckles are white. But his face is looking less fearful and more confused by the second. Velania thinks she spies just a sliver of embarrassment as well.
“I’m right. I’m always right. An’ you’re scared because you think somethin’ changin’ in your soul means it’s going away, ain’t you?” Again, the Jackal’s words are gruff, almost stern, but he’s still got a hand on An’Ahkrim’s face. His other comes up to rest assuringly on Velania’s shoulder. “They’re not takin’ your soul, An’Ahkrim,” he says quietly, his voice like the distant thunder from a moment ago.
Velania stares at the Jackal, her own sheepishness apparent, then glances at An’Ahkrim. “What’s happening, love?”
He shakes his head a little, still trying to calm his breathing. An oblivious bumblebee buzzes past his ear, and he looks decidedly chagrined. “I don’t know,” he says, a little sullenly.
A grin tugs at the corner of Je’Sathriel’s mouth. “Lucky for you, boy, I do. Now get up.”
He takes his hands off both of them and stands up to his full height, wings spreading out behind again. He looks down at An’Ahkrim, the challenge clear in his eyes, daring him to stay where he is.
With a surge of relief, Velania relaxes somewhat. She glances between the two men, wondering for a moment whether this is going to turn into a laconic stand-off. She releases An’Ahkrim’s hand, but keeps his gaze. It’s clear she is not creating distance between them, but simply turning to face him fully. She looks at him expectantly.
An’Ahkrim studies the Jackal. For a moment a shadow of his past self flickers in his eyes, the proud and cold devil, but it melts away as quickly as it came. The two men glare at each other and were they any other, Velania would think they were about to trade blows, but… “Him and me, we’re connected. Fundamentally. And very different. And so similar in other ways.”
She thinks that she might never understand what it is they share, but nonetheless she is glad that they have it.
An’Ahkrim stands up, dusting himself off.
The two look at each other with the same dry, expectant expression. “Well?” says the Jackal.
“Well what?”
“Do something.”
“Yes, thank you, that explains so much.”
“Do magic, you idiot.”
“My magic is gone, which you very well know, you smug bast–”
“Is it?”
The crescent moon on An’Ahkrim’s forehead, the symbol of Selûne lined with the symbol of Shar, glows softly. An’Ahkrim’s eyes widen like saucers.
“Do something.”
Velania’s face softens, and she directs An’Ahkrim’s gaze to her spirit guardians. There, among the constellations still surrounding the three of them, floats the same waxing crescent moon in silver, overlaying the purple moon of Shar. “An’Ahkrim. It isn’t just you and Je’Sathriel. We are connected. Can’t you sense it?”
His eyes still wide with disbelief, An’Ahkrim raises a trembling hand to the stars glittering around them. A few of them detach and circle his fingers like the curious fireflies – his one remaining party trick – and he gathers them up in a fist before flinging them straight at Velania. She does not flinch, and watches him with trust. A faint aura surrounds her, steels her mind and protects her from harm. A Shield of Faith settles around her, his faith in her, in them, in the unity between the Sisters and in the balance of their existence.
An’Ahkrim exhales quietly. The tears from before well up again, this time spilling over.
“Congrats,” the Jackal says, bone dry.
Velania doesn’t even notice the Jackal’s sarcasm. She blinks away her own tears and gazes at An’Ahkrim with all the warmth in her heart. A sudden surge of energy enters the constellations encircling them. They glow with a renewed intensity, dazzling and fierce with holy power. With love.
The Jackal clears his throat and adds, matter-of-factly, “You’ve ended the Unending Word. Neither of us will fall again.”
Velania’s attention snaps to him with surprise. The power of his statement rings in her ears with all the clamour of the heavens. Her heart is pounding.
The Archangel of Selûne doesn’t say anything more. He looks at her, letting the words float around the three of them.
An’Ahkrim lets his tears flow silently down his cheeks as the stars whirl around him.
Velania returns Je’Sathriel’s gaze, tears in her eyes. Keeping his gaze, she slips her arm around An’Ahkrim’s and interlaces her fingers with his. She smiles at the archangel warmly. Kindly. But with humility. She knows but a fragment of what the Unending Word has meant for him, but still, that fragment is larger and heavier than any burden she has ever borne.
He ducks his head slightly. “Good job, kid.”
She isn’t sure if he’s talking to her or An’Ahkrim.
And then he’s gone.
An'Ahkrim