#?? and rain could compete for least book smarts lol

[emersonfreepress]

Are there any disparities between whether the ROs consider themselves intelligent vs whether their peers generally think they're intelligent? I.e. Rain thinks they're pretty smart because of their fashion and language knowledge but their classmates think they're kind of an airhead because they don't have good grades or something like that? Also I hope this autumn is treating you well! I've already gotten sick...

(attempting to clean up drafts and the inbox for the new year! expect a lot of old ass asks like this one)

hope you're feeling better! esp by now lol i think i was also down with something when you sent this 😅 I won't touch on what they think of their own intelligence because I think that sort of thing will quickly become apparent through interacting with them.

Gabe is smart, but classmates don't pay it as much attention as you'd expect once you know his academic performance. It's not what he's popular for and he doesn't want to be popular for it. It's hard to miss that he is a bit of a teacher's pet, though.

Kile is not thought of as smart because their reputation has nothing to do with their grades or intelligence. Emerson's def one of those places where people are quick to equate violence with brainlessness. Teachers think that they're smart but historically have not been inclined (or willing lbh) to try to take them under their wing.

Jack has his academic strengths and weaknesses like any average student does. Perceived pretty neutral in this category!

Jessie has been the brainy girl with her hand raised first since elementary school 😆 She's usually got the right answer too. Definitely thought of as smart by peers and grown-ups.

Most people can't get a read on Rain and no one knows them well enough to know how poor their academic performance is. Some folks assume the weird, quiet one is probably smart; some folks have seen Rain at summer school or have had the misfortune of doing a team project with them 😆

People forget R is smart but a reminder will come every so often in the form of them acing a test most people struggled with or going off on someone who pisses them off. Forgetting R is smart is usually how people end up on their shit list 😃

Vi has always been the other brainy kid with their hand raised lightning fast — just the complete opposite of bubbly 😂 They also don't raise their hand if they aren't sure they'll get something right, unlike Jessie. But yeah, everyone knows their smart. They've made this fact impossible to ignore, every school year, without fail!

Heidi is known to be smart (report cards don't lie) but because she's reserved and keeps to herself about it (and most things), there are some who question how true that is. She's on a bit of a pretty girl pedestal so her intelligence is regularly underrated and underestimated. Folks familiar with Heidi know that hinging any social maneuvering on the belief that she is dumb is a good way to end up humiliated!

Curt is... eh... Most people have the impression that he's a talkative ditz. His grades are great it's not like his dad would accept anything less, so this rep is earned through his persona and rumors. People running in the same circles as him know that he's smarter than he acts and pays more attention than he pretends to. He's very content with folks thinking he's an airhead, though, because it gives him, just... so many social advantages.

Some people make the assumption that ?? is at least booksmart since they attend a prestigious boarding school (and have worn glasses since childhood). Anyone who actually knows them, however, knows that is definitively not the case 😆

[noocturnalchild]

Of Thieves and Poets

Warning : Mention of abuse, light depiction of wounds, hurt

Well, that was a hard chapter to write, mainly cause I’m still strugling with my English, and sometimes, ideas are here but I find no words to describe them as I want to !

Many thanks to a great friend who’s always been there to beta read my fics and correct the MANY language mistakes I’m still making,it’s a shame that I can’t tag her here !

Sara maybe you’ll never read this but I LOVE YOU ( this is me talking to myself lol)

Also many thanks to all who are sharing and liking my fics, I love you guys, you are the best !

All the poetry in this chapter is William Carlos Williams’ ! 

Chapter one here ! 

Chapter 2 

* 

Give me something to eat! Let me take you to the hospital, I said and after you are well you can do as you please. She smiled, Yes you do what you please first then I can do what I please

“Who’s she?”

The day Laura died, he wrote his most accomplished poem. It rested between her cold fingers, folded in a small sheet of damp paper and he briefly wondered if the dead could read. Heavy rain washed the sleepy city that day, and everyone said that they’d never seen so many white peonies in the same place before. He buried all his other poem books with her, tucked between her curls and the black and white satin.

He never made a copy.

Paterson didn’t write love poems anymore. But never were his fingers as ink stained, bruised and abused by so many hours spent writing as they were now, and never was his desk inundated by so many notebooks. They piled up in complete disorder, competing with books and tools, making the old wood squeak uncomfortably.

“Who’s she”

Only now he saw her fiddling with the framed photo he kept on his living room table, so that it was always the first thing he saw as he woke up.

“Wife?”

Paterson didn’t answer.

Mina had her back turned to him. She couldn’t see the man’s eyes watering, or the frown of his brows, nor could she feel his struggle with his breath, repressing the tides of anguish that menaced to crash on him again.

“Gorgeous, dude! bet she gives great head” She turned to look at him over her shoulder, winked suggestively.

Beaming and smug at the same time, Mina looked like one who’s sure just dropped something so smart and funny, completely oblivious of the hands clutching on the cold marble of the kitchen counter. White knuckles, white pain…

“No complaints.“

Paterson’s reply of choice. Life was going on for everybody, for him too. Doc got a TV in his bar after all. Marie went to New York and Everett to LA. And he was still a bus driver, eating cereals every morning, writing in his yellow pages and sitting on the wet benches of Paterson’s waterfalls, so why would he complain?

“Go and freshen up, bathroom first door to the left”

“You’re no fun” She stuck out her tongue and left. Paterson couldn’t be mad.

Laura was laughing, straddling the arm of the sofa and eyeing him with mischief in her eyes. He couldn’t help but smile.

“Won’t ya help me with my clothes?”

“I can’t do much with a broken wrist”

“It hurts”

(…)

“Dude, come on, so prudish!”

Laura had a hand on her mouth now, in mock shock, her eyes were still laughing, and Paterson was confused, a pretty blush rising to his cheeks. He remembered now that the only clothes he had that might fit Mina were Laura’s, and even those were big for the bony creature waiting for his help in his bathroom.

“Hold… hold on a second”

Paterson drew in a shaky breath, fetched one of his sleep shirts from his bed drawers, strode to open the bathroom door and… oh God.

A trembling dry leaf stood before him. Only in her white crop top and equally white panties; Paterson imagined her cracking under the passers-by’s soles, giving in under their rough stumpings, each one leaving a stain on her weak frame. Paterson’s eyes descended to her bare thighs, and she kept her eyes on the floor.

“Jesus… Who… who did this to you?”

Her thighs were a hideous map, little red and yellowish scabbed dots and circles on tarnished, discolored skin.

She shrugged, eyes avoiding his. Why would he care, why was he so insistent, why couldn’t he just be like the others, why won’t he try something with her, on her, like she deserves… she would let him, this one, she would.

“Just help me with my top” a wobbly voice replied, but Paterson was already looking for something in his medicine cabinet.

“Sit on the stool there” His hands were shaking as he put the ointment and the bandages on the side and proceeded to wet a washcloth.

“Can… I?” He kneeled, and their eyes met. She kept silent and nodded and he thought the sparkle in her eyes was gratitude.

With infinite gentle touches, Paterson washed her thighs and legs, dried them carefully, applied the ointment and wrapped them in clean bandages.

Laura was watching in reverence. The scene exuded something religious; the saint washing the sinner’s faults. And none spoke a word.

Afterwards, Mina laid in white clean sheets, but for all the comfort she had, she couldn’t sleep the few hours separating the night from dawn. She counted the hours, watching the bus driver as he slept peaceful and soft; not so far from her spot on the sofa.

The domestic rituals, the warm clothes, the vanilla soap smell lingering, the nice buzzing of the fridge in a quiet space, and the dim light he kept on just for her… His… his kindness coiled her like sticky ropes. Mina was suffocating.

She got up, slid in her dirty jeans, but kept his shirt on, and with a final brush of his hair, she took his watch and slipped out of the quiet house, and the monsters took her in their arms again.

***

Recycled air and synthetic notes, shopping carts rolling and low, lustful giggles.

With his favorite brand of cereal in hand, Paterson’s food shopping was almost done for the day. He was just strolling, verses starting to form in the fog of his mind as he saw two forms melting in each other, just against one of the snack vending machines. A smile began to tug on his lips. Life was simple, young lovers making out in malls and supermarkets, in the streets and gardens; the boy handsy, in baggy jeans and a loose jumper, fake golden chains around black collar, the girl…the girl.

Paterson’s mind went blank, and verses fled away like frightened pigeons.

“Oi man, whatcha lookin’ at!”

The guy addressed a dazed Paterson, and the girl turned her head from off her lover’s chest.

In all the scenarios she imagined at night, curled up in the corners of the streets and between the brushwood of the parks , meeting him again while in the arms of another man was never on the list. It shouldn’t be like that, it wasn’t supposed to be like that. He shouldn’t think that she… but what was she anyway? She was everything he might think of her now.

He was so beautiful she wanted to bury her pain in his chest, between the threads of his regal hair. Curl all the hurt in a bundle and he would take it, in his large warm palm. He would know how to make it disappear, like by magic, vanish in thin air. With a touch of his finger pads, he could wash away scars; wipe away the purples and the blues and the burns. He was so clean she feared to touch him. He was so wholesome and she felt so queasy, so sickening she wanted to puke. Her hand skimmed the hidden pocket in her rat nibbled jean vest; the watch was still there, burning a hole in its worn fabric. She didn’t pass it on to Ian. It earned her new cigarette burns and a slap that made her nose bleed a little, but she had survived worse treatments.

“Who’s that, you know that guy? You do boring now?”

Carlos giggled, showcasing many missed teeth. He pinched her sides playfully, slapped her cheek playfully, squeezed her tits playfully, and she wished to die.

“Yo dude, wanna suck my dick? Ow no? Maybe a threesome? My chick here gives amazing head”

Oh, that again.

“See, not interested”

Carlos giggles sounded like gallows bells.

“I’m not your chick, for fuck’s sake!”

Mina screamed in frustration, pushed a stunned Carlos away, wriggled free from his sloppy hold, hand reaching out for salvation.

“I’m… I’m sorry!”

What she meant to be loud and clear, came out as a choked whisper.

But Paterson was already turning his back to her. This time he didn’t wait for her, not even a hum or a discarding hand, his long silhouette drawing away, swallowed by the light.

Life was going on, no complaints.

***

Mina was out, really out.

Even when she told him she wouldn’t play “pretend” with him anymore, Carlos still hung around for some time, and the money she could get from him she saved with scrutiny, starving herself to death. She never came back to the “pack”; her steps always took her to the quiet small house at the end of the stairs. She lurked there, watching when the lights went on, and stayed hunched behind shrubs and bushes, clutching the watch to her heart, listening to their combined tic tic tic… the mechanics soothed her, and she slept there every night.

Whatever happens, never sell the watch.

She started doing windshield scrubbing too, helped some nice grocery shop owners with their crates for some dollars, and by the end of the month she could buy a dozen cigarette packs and tissue boxes to sell in the streets. She was always hungry, but at least she could picture him in the back of her mind smiling, not disappointed in her anymore. He might not know, for now, but the thought was comforting. The thought was like a pier, supporting the bridge she was building towards him and she was sure she would reach him again, one day.

***

Sun benches at the curb bespeak another season, truncated poplars that having served for shade served also later for the fire.

It was Saturday morning. The rainy clouds of the day before blew over for a shiny crystal sun to come out. Excitement and expectations wired the air with buzzing electricity around Hinchliff Stadium. Kids and teens, middle aged and old people formed noisy groups, stomping on empty chips bags and placing bets.

Mina thought herself lucky when she laid hands on second hand baseball game tickets. Her wrist completely healed now, she roamed the area around the stadium, surfed the crowd, hands full, voice rusty from a cold she was nursing, over exploited vocal chords, yelling, trying to convince hurried passers-by to buy, by means of jokes and charms.

That’s when she saw him.

“Fuckin’ Carlos” a livid Mina stumbled a few steps backward, eyes seeking a gap between the crowds, quickly calculating her way out.

Fuck!

She could recognize Ian’s red sneakers anywhere. She thanked the heavens for his poor cover-up skills, giving her the high ground for a moment. She knew he could see her, but she took her chance. One group blocked his vision for a moment, and Mina took off her oversized leather jacket, let her hair down and started to walk slowly in the opposite direction.

She mentally counted to ten, chewing furiously on an overused gum, her hands started sweating. She knew that if caught this time, it wouldn’t just be cigarette burns on her thighs.

So Mina ran.

She ran aimlessly, not looking back, eyes closed and breath shagged. She could feel the adrenaline rush shot through her bones, just like every time she plunged her skillful hands inside the pockets of an oblivious passer-by, but this time there would be no euphoria of the gain waiting at the end of the road, just a sliced head.

Five minutes of sprinting and she couldn’t take it anymore, were her lungs that damaged? Fuck you Carlos, couldn’t keep his trap shut! Fuck! She was losing speed, she could hear Ian’s red sneakers batting the asphalt, tap tap tap, just behind. It was common belief that, at moments like these, the film of your whole life would flash back before your eyes, that the spool of all your wrongs would unfurl the threads that would wind around your legs and throat, choke you to death, drag you to hell. But Mina only saw two amber gems, Mina saw warmth and large, strong arms wrapping her in endless depths of comfort, and she felt peace descend upon her, Mina saw the future so she ran faster, and this time, with one destination in mind.

[vaguely-concerned]

Temeraire let’s read: Crucible of Gold AHOY!

- lol I’m glad hammond is back, he is phenomenally funny. I do love me a bureaucrat character who won’t let trifling things like dignity, morality, politeness or common sense get in the way of their job 

- it is a CRIME that Tharkay had to leave before he got to see Laurence all sun-bronzed and casually dressed and golden haired and relaxed, I wish to petition the universe itself on his behalf to correct this injustice 

- hahaha shen li is the best; a buddhist dragon would be the greatest party pooper among her own kind 

shen li, serenely: attachment to material things can only bring suffering

literally every other dragon, dripping bling from every available surface: um actually

- . . . without the clinging stink of murder and treachery which seemed to have by slow octopoid measures attached itself to his life. laurence I understand where you’re coming from on this but you have served colonial britain since you were like twelve. this has been an extremely slow process of waking up to smelling dem roses (fatherhood changes your perspective on your life situation I guess)

- awwwwww laurence finally studying some more chinese while temeraire helps him... no no this is just rain on my face yes I know I’m indoors it’s just me and lady allendale sitting here with our arms around each other crying about our boy reading poetry of his own freeish will

- oooh I really like how novik writes the way hammond talks -- it can be hard to write a character who constantly breaks up their own dialogue and interrupts themselves and continually couches their words without it being hard to read and annoying, but she really nails communicating that he’s a) completely graceless and with no dignity but also undeniably intelligent, b) definitely a Diplomat but not a total weasel, if only by a hair, c) hilarious

- pour one out for laurence’s civilian beard with me guys, gone too soon and dearly missed (and again tharkay didn’t even get to see it! this continues to be the greatest tragedy of these books let’s hope he grows it out again later when they’re all settled down.) 

- . . . These were distinguished from the others mainly for their having had less time in their careers to demonstrate a lack of initiative or skill, so he could have some small hope of uncovering some previously hidden talent. OH MY GOD LAURENCE the straight up savagery 

- DAD!LAURENCE!!! DAD!LAURENCE!!!!!!! (aaah it’s so interesting that when he gets a bit more stern you can definitely see sides of his father peeking out, but he deeply remains his mother’s son -- he’s acting from a place of affection, feeling of responsibility and concern for their futures, not the weird controlling shit lord allendale routinely pulls)

roland is such a teenager at this point oh my god. also laurence’s whole speech to demane about respecting her boundaries and agency... *chef kiss emoji* and ALSO demane is so sympathetic in this still because who HASN’T wanted to dangle some asshole over a cliff for being a creep to your friend/crush... they’re all good and perfect and I love them actually

- ...I’ve managed to put it out of my mind in the last few books but with the allegiance going down like that I keep remembering there were so many actual children onboard and now I feel ill

being an adult and realizing the full fuckedupedness of these things sucks haha

- 1) the description of seeing the ship sinking from underwater is hauntingly beautiful and 2) as I have said many a time before, thank god for demane

- see this is the other side of the coin of these books making you care so deeply about the characters; I know that no important characters die in this book but I am still so fucking stressed out by all of this D:D:D:

- well well well if gong su’s ludicrous competency wasn’t suspicious before it certainly is now, I guess china trains its spies well in the culinary arts haha

- I mean uh. what a way to symbolically and literally sever laurence from his former life and former self, I guess. you’d be hard pressed to do so more explosively at least

 - something extremely bad happened to granby, we can tick that off the list

- I feel like the prose and writing in general is super improved in this one? it feels sharp and purposeful in a way the last few haven’t quite been

- He hoped Riley would be mourned; Riley deserved to be mourned ahfksahsdajklhsajkfhaslkjfhsakjdfhdaslkfhakj pain :(:(:( I’m so sorry laurence and I didn’t even like the guy. I can’t believe that the first thing this madman does after trying to secure their survival as best he could is writing letters -- on dragonback!!! hands stiff from cold so he can only work in five minute increments!!! -- to make sure riley’s memory isn’t blackened how can he be like this

- emily roland is so smart and capable and amazing my heart is blooming with pride

- iridescent feathered dragons... holy shit this is awesome

temeraire has a little feather envy tho and also maila casually eavesdropping so he can chat up (literally) hot babes... I know they’re prisoners of war and everything but this is all pure unadulterated gold

- oh temeraire darling no have no fear hammond has no self respect whatsoever, that will not be what stops him

- I can’t believe laurence is actually taking time to tie himself in knots over not following perfect procedure around his officers’ future career options while they’re FUCKING MAROONED with a bunch of asshole sailors fkdfhsjdh

- GET YOUR DIRTY FUCJING HANDS OFF DEMANE OR I’LL CHOP THEM OFF FOR YOU YOU SWINE

sipho is like eleven and a nerd and ready to run at all these grown men armed just with a branch PAIN

- granby’s unending exasperation at laurence not knowing all the stuff that seems self-evident to him having grown up with dragons fksjdhfskajd

- aw laurence finally having a little dad talk with roland ;____; and demane has proposed to her repeatedly and she would agree in a moment under other circumstances ;________________; and it never even occurred to me that that’s why she was so upset about him taking on his own dragon but of course that would fuck everything up if that’s what she was planning OH NO ;_________________________________________________;

laurence confirmed for boytoy & hideously embarrassed about it flasdfsdkjhfksd 

“But I don’t want someone I want, if I can’t be sure of seeing him one week in the year” crack crack goes the sound of my heart breaking

I hope they find a way to solve this eventually :(

- really interesting what a clear view emily has of roland and laurence’s relationship tho, considering he’s basically her father figure -- like there’s clear affection, physical attraction and camaraderie there but it never feels particularly romantic & they both have other shit to do. (and laurence knows it too on some level, considering his main emotion when she refuses his proposal is relief lol. it really shows off this central conflict he has where like... he has a very clear idea of who he feels he should be and managed to convince himself he was for a long time, and what that man wants and needs (namely very little, emotionally) and is loyal to. aaaand then there’s the person he actually is, who’s been fighting his way to the surface since temeraire showed up in the very first book and sort of woke him up by giving him something he actually loves and values with all of himself and can’t compromise on. proper gentleman/navy!laurence feels like he has to do what society deems decent and marry roland to be a good person, actual!laurence seems to know that what they already have isn’t wrong or immoral in any way as long as they’re both happy with it. ugh I love him and I hope his last remaining character development includes realizing that who he really is is not only acceptable but actually a better man than that imagined perfect self ever could be and how many people love him for who he is already A N Y W A Y onwards)

- the incan dragons continue to be dope as hell

it’s super interesting how they’ve grown to value people -- and not just one special person, like british dragons, but whole groups of people -- over gold and jewels. like the tendency is there in dragons from other cultures; temeraire loves The Bling but would still easily prioritize laurence and his crew over it. presumably some of it is cultural and some of it must stem from the sheer trauma of losing so many people within a few centuries, which is basically living memory for a dragon (which makes it equal parts sympathetic/heartwarming and juuuuust on the edge of being too creepy and possessive haha).

- jeez this book is doing a good job at showing what a haunting fucking sight it must be to enter a land where like. 90% of the people are dead in plague and their cities stand abandoned

- fhasdklhfaskljfhs hammond going full diplomat on the dragons squabbling... he truly is something

and laurence apologizing to demane because he was out of line and he is a fellow captain now T_____T lord allendale could never

- haven’t had a lot to say for a while because I’m just so entranced with the world building and stuff haha, I find the irl history of this area super interesting as well

- ambassador iskierka........ what a time to be alive

poor poor poor granby hahahaha

- if these books were named harry potter style this one would be ‘william laurence and that time he tried to put off wearing his ceremonial robes for as long as humanly possible’

- granby being good at drawing but having atrocious handwriting is such a good little character detail, novik is just so expert at nonchalantly plopping them in 

- temeraire is being haunted by a green-eyed monster the size of a continent huh lol fair play to maila tho, he’s given it his sleazy all right from the start

I can’t believe gong su invented dragon ice cream solely so temeraire could eat it out of a tub over this... the real mvp

- awwww granby <3 I’m glad there’s some actual canonical queer rep in this series as well (as for the technically not stated straight(heh) out in canon... listen my friends if you can come up with any kind of heterosexual explanation for normally extremely sensible tenzing tharkay gazing at his friend and thinking shit like ‘in the fading light he was a statue gilded by sunlight’ and ‘it was a pang not unmixed with pleasure to look on him, as ever’, you are free to try to come at me with it but I won’t believe you lol. also laurence has the most potent disaster bisexual energy of any man in modern media even if he hasn’t quite caught on to it himself) 

tbh I know it’s mostly in desperation but they should come up with some new kind of medal to give granby for having this particular Talk with william laurence, one of the most awkward men to ever walk this earth... braver than any us marine etc.

- temeraire and iskierka in this scene STRONGLY evoke dirtbag teens sneaking off to make out in the backseat of a car or something god bless

- ...I guess you can’t fault the empress for siding with the dude already crashing like a natural catastrophe over his own home continent and who is eyeing the other six like a starving eagle would a pack of mice. all the europeans suck but I guess it’s sort of her best bet to ally herself with the biggest bully on the playground, especially since forces in her own court would be hard pressed to do anything about the situation. respect sister & congratulations granby lol

- hahahahahahaha leave it to hammond to be forcibly adopted by a dragon 

poor churki tho she’s a grownass adult and she only has one weird coke-addled diplomat and three basically adolescent dragons to work with here

- GRANBY SETTING SOME BOUNDARIES FINALLY I’m so proud of him ;__; this book really does have a lot to say about dragon/human relations huh

- LETHABO!!!!!!!!!!! man i’m so happy she’s doing well, she fucking deserves it and she’s doing good work

- laurence has evolved to his ultimate form of give-no-fucks-do-some-good laurence and hammond was not prepared lol 

“You forget yourself, Captain Laurence,” Hammond said . . . 

“I forget nothing,” Laurence answered . . . 

im crying b/c he literally has forgotten before but remembers himself at the end of victory of eagles b/c of tharkay and and aaaaaaaaaaaaaugh here he is refusing to do the dirty work he’s handed once more 

- lily and maximus! this is not a drill it’s the good good kids back at it again. also temeraire’s phenomenally misplaced sense of superiority re: his reaction to kulingile growing bigger than any of them fkshdfksahdfkj

- berkely <3

- poor harcourt :( ah well she’ll survive it tho he wasn’t that important it’s not like she lost her dragon lol (I honestly can’t feel that bad about riley considering y’know how he was not only chill with but actively for the institution of slavery)

- YOOOOOOO GONG SU! and temeraire is so happy they’re going back to china aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah I love this (laurence’s stammering outrage at this reveal is also highly entertaining “he STAYED in my father’s HOUSE!!!!!!!”)

- man that entire last battle scene was so cool in the context of the rest of the series; the sheer effort and ingenuity that went into avoiding a bigger battle and slyly aiding the only worthy cause in the situation (the tswana and freeing the slaves) is so satisfying, especially after VoE

- holy shit I really enjoyed this one! It had a good balance of travelling/character moments and giving us time with the culture and characters of the Inca and their dragons, as well as driving the overall plot forward splendidly! I also feel like we got some more meat to the laurence POV (in hindsight it feels like it was mostly temeraire POV in tongues of serpents, which is fine but I do love our golden boy and his slow burn character development too)

on to blood of tyrants! I don’t know anything about this one except a) amnesia and b) some Very Important Lines I’ve already picked up along the way, I’m not sure I’m prepared (as a trope amnesia can be pretty hit or miss for me, so it’ll be interesting at least!)

[miragetemple]

:ToZ/ToB: Memories Like a Mountain

Title: Memories Like a Mountain Rating: G Character/Pairing: Edna, Eizen, some OCs, Eizen & Edna Spoilers: Spoilers for both games, though mainly Zestiria. Words: 7,711 Summary: “Earth malakhim,” Eizen had once said, “have memories as strong as mountains. Where the winds of time chip away at and rob humans and malakhim alike of their memories, we’re blessed with the ability to remember everything. No matter how much time has passed.”

AN: This is the full, uncut version of the fic I wrote for @zinestiria​ many months ago! I’ve been dying to share it, and now I finally can~!

The main inspiration for this fic really was comparing how it felt for me to “lose” my brother after he left home for college. I imagine Edna probably felt the same, so I wanted to explore it and try to convey those feelings. It also helps that Eizen’s a total chatterbox about Edna in Berseria. Most of the major memories here were taken straight from ones he either recounted or hinted to have happened. I placed them as chronologically as I could figure them from his vague indications. Some aren’t completely accurate to what Eizen says happened, but....such is the price of writing on a time limit with minimal planning lol.

Please enjoy! Thank you to everyone in the zine who helped me cut down to what it needed to be for the zine version and thank you to my friends who beta’d the full version in preparation for today. Thank you also to @mez-zo​ for creating beautiful page border art to go with the fic in the zine.

AO3 | FFN | Here...

“Earth malakhim,” Eizen had once said, “have memories as strong as mountains. Where the winds of time chip away at and rob humans and malakhim alike of their memories, we’re blessed with the ability to remember everything. No matter how much time has passed.”

Blessed. Is that what it could really be called? True, the fact she could remember so much did come in handy. Like putting Meebo in his place, piquing Sorey’s interest, or filling in the gaps of Lailah’s own memory. She wouldn’t call those blessings, though. If anything, they were perks. A big difference. Outside of those perks, her memories only served as painful reminders of things she used to have—things she’ll never have again. What purpose did that serve except to capitalize on her loneliness?

Her limited understanding of the humans Eizen loved so much told her that most human memories start when they’re about four years old. For her, though, her memories start from the moment she opened her eyes after materializing from the earthpulse. Seraphim—or malakhim as they’d called themselves back then—aren’t normally born as babies, but she was a rare case—or so she’d been told. She hadn’t been a baby baby like Meebo had been, but she was small enough and close enough in age that she might as well have been one. She didn’t cry like a human baby, nor did she move much from where she formed, but her presence had been felt in the small seraphim village nearby. For a little while her vision had just been full of the blue sky above her, but then it was obscured by a face—Eizen’s face.

They blinked at each other, mutually curious about the unfamiliar sight. When he picked her up to look at her more closely, his hands had been bare and she can still remember the warmth that radiated from his palms. She’d felt the connection being drawn between them from the moment their eyes had met. As she reached out her stubby hand to childishly grab at his dumb nose the connection grew stronger and then it solidified. This smiling idiot was her brother, and though she was still new to the world at the time the realization of that bond made one thing clear to her: she wasn’t alone.

Many seraphim began learning to refine their artes very early on in life. For Edna, she started using artes subconsciously at an earlier age than most seraphim and it was only when a rock almost fell on her that Eizen began to properly teach her. Well, as best as he could, given their different fighting styles. She was a smart girl, though, so even with Eizen’s bumbling teaching methods she grasped how to control them quickly enough.

From there, it was just a matter of refinement. That happened over the course of several years, on and off. A new arte here, a different technique there, and though it was pointless to consider, she couldn’t help but compare herself to him in terms of their ability. He’d lived longer than her, so of course he knew more artes than her and could perform more powerful feats with his than she could. That didn’t stop her from trying to emulate him anyway, and every time the miscalculation of power came back to bite her. One time when trying to mimic one of the ice spells she saw him use, the arte came out too big and the backlash caused frostbite over both of her hands and forearms. Eizen’s mother hen tendencies got worse after that. Despite the lectures she’d get, his worried admonishment always came with the added assurance, “You’re fine as you are, don’t push or overwork yourself like that.”

Her first experience with a thunderstorm was a particularly strong memory. It was a warm Summer day in their tiny mountain village. At first there was just a light drizzle and Edna—age 7—stood under the awning of the simple house they lived in, watching the rain fall while staying dry. She hated the sensation of getting wet, but the sound of rain was nice. Calming. At least it was until the rain began to fall harder, chasing any remaining seraphim—except the weirdo water types—under shelter. As soon as she’d adjusted to the changed rhythm of the rain a bright flash of light and a loud BOOM that shook the ground beneath her feet had her shrieking and running into the house. Eizen, who’d been reading a book, barely had time to react before Edna crawled into his lap and clung tightly to him, hiding her face in his shoulder.

“Edna, what’s—” Eizen started, but was cut off when another clap of thunder resounded from outside.

It wasn’t as earth shaking as the first, but still powerful and loud and Edna’s shoulders tensed with the hitch of her breath.

“Ah,” he’d said, shifting only to mark his place and put the book down so he could gently pat Edna’s back in comfort, “we don’t normally get thunderstorms up at this altitude. This is the first one we’ve had in a while.”

“It’s loud,” she said, muffled slightly by his shoulder, “I don’t like it. Make it—eek!” Another thunderclap and she began to tremble, “Make it stop!”

Eizen chuckled before wrapping both arms around her, placing his other hand on the back of her head and petting her hair.

“That’s unfortunately not in my power to do, but it’ll go away on its own in a few minutes.”

Nonsense, she thought. Eizen was dumb, but he was bigger than her and stronger too.

“Yes you can, just punch it like you do everything else!”

Eizen laughed again, this time louder.

“I can’t punch the rain, Edna.”

“Not the rain, dumbo, the loud boomy thing!”

“The thunder,” he corrected her, “is just the sound of competing currents of electricity in the air. It can’t hurt you. Listen, the storm’s already passing.”

She did and he was right. The rain had gone back to its gentle drizzle and the latest clap of thunder was faint compared to the previous ones. This realization made her relax and lean back, though the ‘I told you so’ look on Eizen’s face made her harrumph and puff her cheeks out in annoyance.

“Whatever. You could’ve taken it.”

She left him with that as she ran to her room, Eizen’s boisterous laugh behind her.

Part of her had always known, somewhere in the back of her mind, that something was wrong with Eizen. A faint darkness always surrounded him, but he didn’t seem to mind it so neither did she. True, it did seem at the time like she got hurt or sick more often whenever Eizen was around, but those were nothing. Minor, annoying inconveniences if anything. Eizen, at the time, had also been making more and more trips down the mountain to the nearest human village. To get supplies, or so he’d always tell her. Every time he returned, the cloud was a little more visible.

Convinced the humans must be doing something to him, she tried to get him to stop going.

“Eizen, you should stop visiting those humans,” she’d said one evening.

She didn’t consider herself particularly close to any of the other seraphim in the village at the time. She didn’t need to be in order to find things out about the world she lived in. She’d overheard murmurs that most seraphim by then had adopted vagabond lifestyles—that seraphic villages like theirs were pretty much a relic of a dead era long before she was born. But the most important thing she’d overheard was whispers of judgement directed at Eizen, because while most of them did live in house-like structures Eizen was the only seraph in the village to fully adopt living like a human, even the unnecessary parts like eating. It worried her, for various reasons.

“Hm? Why?” He’d asked, crossing his arms over his chest like a petulant child.

She’d clicked her tongue. She knew this topic wouldn’t be easy, but Eizen’s stubbornness was another beast entirely.

“People are talking.”

“So?”

“They’re saying mean things about you!”

“And?”

“So you should stop hanging around earth-dwellers so much.”

“No.”

“Eizen!”

“What?!”

She narrowed her eyes into a glare, intending to be intimidating, but the effect wasn’t as potent as she wanted it to be. But she tried. Eizen was unaffected and just kept his arms crossed.

“Don’t you care about what the others think and say?” She finally asked after a few moments of a glaring contest between them.

“Not particularly. Never have. Do you?”

She opened her mouth to speak but closed it again without a word, frowning instead. Idly, her fingers clenched around the handle of her closed umbrella—a gift Eizen had brought from the village a few weeks ago—and twisted it where it lay against her shoulder. Thinking on his question, there wasn’t really any reason for her to care what other seraphim thought, was there? It irritated her, sure, but it wasn’t the real issue. The real issue, she realized, was humans. Humans with their poisonous clouds of darkness, latching carelessly to Eizen and infecting him, draining him slowly of his essence. The closer they got to him, the more distant he felt to her. She didn’t understand it. The umbrella’s weight on her shoulder grounded her where she was. It really was a nice umbrella…

“No,” she finally answered, then changed the topic slightly, “but I want to meet these humans.”

It took some convincing and a lot of arguing, but finally Eizen caved and the next morning they both walked down the mountain towards the human village. On the way Eizen began to ramble about the history of the village. Edna feigned disinterest but didn’t actively try and stop him. The village, it turned out, was a proper, bustling town in the foothills of their mountain, though when Eizen had been younger—before she was born—the town had been a small hamlet coinciding with their own seraphic village. Many people at the time had lost their resonance, but there remained a few who could at least see Eizen when he visited, though the numbers steadily became smaller as time went on. Edna wondered why, then, Eizen bothered coming so much if most people couldn’t see him.

It turned out that, of the few people who could see him, this included a family of merchants who ran the town’s tavern. When she and Eizen entered there were only a few patrons in the main sitting area who wasted no time in complaining about the magically opening door. They barked their complaints then returned quietly to their drinks and their own conversations. The barkeeper, though, had the light of recognition in his eyes as he looked up and saw them before subtly motioning them over to a secluded part of the tavern where talking to oneself didn’t seem suspicious at all. He, Edna learned, was the great-great-something grandson of the human Eizen first met and resonance ran strong in their bloodline. He greeted her with a smile, but all she did was nod in acknowledgement. Then he and Eizen talked and clapped each other on the shoulder before Eizen ordered drinks for them both—beer for himself and hot chocolate for her. She watched these happenings unfold with only a little boredom, clutching her umbrella tightly against her shoulder. So far her impression of humanity was that they were loud and rude. Nothing about them seemed interesting enough to take her brother away.

When the barkeeper returned with their drinks he also set a small plate down in front of Edna. She stared at the flaky, vaguely heart shaped pastry in confusion before directing the look at him instead. It was something called a palmier, apparently. At Eizen’s encouragement she took a tiny bite out of it, expecting it to taste terrible. Instead, the sweetest taste she’d ever tasted flooded her mouth and before she could stop herself, the pastry was gone. Okay, so maybe humans could do some things alright.

After that, whenever Eizen went down to the village he’d always bring back a small box of palmiers for her. She didn’t know why, but something about them was just…calming. They made a decent comfort food. Maybe humans had artes they used to make their sweets addictive. She didn’t know and frankly she didn’t care. They helped calm her nerves and that’s all that mattered. Eventually Eizen had gotten them so much that the barkeeper gave him the recipe.

Seraphim don’t have birthdays, but Eizen had made their birthdays traditions in their household—yet another human trait he’d adopted over the years. Hers was coming up soon, so one evening he shooed her out of the house with the errand of collecting firewood for them. She protested, because why do they need firewood when there are fire seraphim nearby, but she gave in and wandered around the outskirts of the village. When she returned hours later with a small bundle of twigs and sticks in her arms the smell of palmiers hit her as she approached, her pace picking up a little. Eizen, predictably, was in the kitchen and told her to put the wood she’d gathered in the fire under their oven. She did, but the moment the wood touched the small flame it grew in size with a roar and surged outward from the opening. It happened faster than she could react and the next thing she knew the side of most of her right leg had a nasty burn along it. Her screams had Eizen by her side in seconds, mother hen mode in full force. Despite her protests he took time to treat the burn. Consequently, the palmiers he’d been making for her came out more like charcoal than the proper pastry she knew. It was upsetting, but more upsetting was the pained expression on Eizen’s face as he helped her to bed, the burnt treats forgotten on the kitchen counter.

“Eizen,” she’d said, “it’s fine. I’m fine. I still want to eat them.”

But her assurance and insistence were only met with Eizen’s frown deepening, a shake of his head and a pat to the top of her own before he left to clean up. Her leg hurt, but watching his back as he left the room made her heart hurt even more, seized with an anxiousness that she couldn’t yet understand.

A few days after that incident, Eizen declared that from that day onward it would be safer for Edna to do the cooking for them. She didn’t understand the logic there, considering she was the one who got burnt, so wouldn’t it make more sense to keep her away from fires? But Eizen had made a decision and, like a mountain in a hurricane, he refused to yield, so Edna agreed to it. Despite the bad burn, fire didn’t bother her and if it made Eizen feel more at ease then she figured it was fine.

Despite the switch they’d made, Edna wasn’t any less prone to injury. Several times she’d stub her toe or fall. It wasn’t anything serious—not like the burn she received before—but ever since then Eizen had seemed to worry more and fret over even the tiniest injury, so she began to try and hide any new injuries from him. She didn’t want him to worry. When he worried, he would go to the village. And when he did that the cloud at his back only grew darker and bigger.

It didn’t really seem like that big of a deal until a Fall day when she was 8. She was outside, stoking the beginnings of a fire in their make-shift pit; because after the burn incident Eizen figured it’d be safer for her to work with an open fire instead of their oven. Dinner was going to be whatever Eizen and Joel—another seraph from their village—brought back from hunting in the nearby woods.

Things were going well, until the sky opened abruptly with rain, dousing her fire and ruining the wood she’d spent all morning gathering. It was unfortunate, but just as she’d turned to run for cover a painful stabbing sensation filled her chest and made breathing feel as if her lungs were full of rocks. A domain had appeared. A powerful, malevolent domain. The other seraphim that were out of their homes were similarly frozen in place, fear on their faces as this kind of domain meant only one thing.

Weakly, she turned her head in the direction of the woods, the trees appearing darker through the purple haze of the domain. It…It wasn’t possible, was it? He couldn’t have…

“Ei—”

But just as she began to speak a large shadow crashed through the trees and flew with impressive speed straight for her. She had no time to react, barely any time to scream, and the next thing she knew she was high in the air, trapped in the talons of a dragon.

The beast let out an angry roar as it flew higher above the clouds. For a moment she was afraid it was going to drop her from this height, but as it reached its apex it dove straight back to the ground, the dive punctuated by a shrill scream from her. Like when it left the woods it raced down the mountainside on the wind, heading straight for and into the human town. The next moments were fuzzy, the constant jerking around by the dragon causing her to go in and out of consciousness. She remembered screaming. From her and the multitude of humans being attacked by it. She remembered fire and blood, death and destruction.

Eizen, stop! She’d thought at one point, fearfully convinced of who this dragon was.

When she regained consciousness again the wind was once more in her hair as the dragon flew back up the mountain. Behind them, from what she could see, was nothing but smoke and ruined buildings.

He’d…He’d destroyed the town he loved…killed the humans he loved…and now he was going to kill their fellow seraphim too… No. No no no no no NO!

“EIZEN!!!”

But before the dragon could make it to their village something stopped it with powerful force and it shrieked in pain, loosening its grip on her. She pinched her eyes shut with a squeal, bracing for impact that never came, partly because someone caught her before she hit the ground and partly because she fainted again after barely registering that fact.

When her eyes opened once more it was to the sight of the dragon dissolving into light. Standing over it, with his back to her, was Eizen. As he turned to walk over to where she was resting against a rock her eyes sweltered with heat before overflowing with equally hot tears. From fear or relief, she didn’t know.

Eizen knelt to her eye level when he was close enough, his smile strained as he reached out to pet her head and brush a tear away with his thumb.

“It’s okay. You’re safe now,” he’d said.

Such reassurance should’ve relieved her, but it only served to make her cry more.

“Eizen,” she’d managed to say through her tears, weakly reaching out to clasp his sleeves tightly in her small fists, making sure he was real. “Eizen. Eizen.”

She had no idea what she was trying to say. All she could think to say right now was his name, whenever the flow of her tears allowed her to speak. Eizen hadn’t been the dragon. He wasn’t a dragon. He hadn’t become a dragon. He was here, he was still here. The fabric of his jacket was rough against her fingers. He was real. This was real.

Whatever she’d been trying to say, Eizen understood. Carefully, he scooped her up again into his arms and she wasted no time in burying her face against his shoulder, muffling the rest of her crying there as she clung to him. By the time they reached their village, her tears had mostly all been cried out. Now she was just tired. And sore. Ugh.

Rather than head straight for their house, though, Eizen paused as they crossed the threshold into the village.

“Eizen,” said someone with a deep voice, “who was that?”

She lifted her head from where it was perched to look over her shoulder. Almost all of the seraphim in the village were gathered in the center, most of them looking apprehensively at Eizen. The one who’d spoken was the elder, who stood in front of the rest. Though he was the oldest in the village, he didn’t actually look all that old. But his face was hardened with a stern expression that made Edna anxious.

“Joel,” Eizen answered simply.

Joel. The seraph who went hunting with Eizen. She hadn't known him that well, but she knew he strongly disapproved of Eizen's interest and exposure to humanity.

“We were hunting together when he started up an argument with me. I tried to defuse it, but he just got angrier. Then he turned into that,” Eizen continued.

“I see,” said the elder, his arms crossed and eyes closed, “This has been on our minds for some time now, but, with recent events being what they are…we think it’s best that you leave. The sooner the better.”

A low murmur of agreement rippled through the assembled crowd of seraphim. She’d feared this outcome, but hadn’t expected it to happen like this or this quickly. Though this was shocking to her, she strangely felt numb to it. Perhaps due to the overwhelming emotions from earlier.

Eizen scoffed, “What, am I dangerous now? I neutralized the dragon for you.”

“Be that as it may, it’s become clear now that your very presence puts all of us in danger,” the elder’s gaze shifted to her and she reflexively clung tighter to Eizen, “Especially to the little one. I think it’s best that she stays with us, but you need to—”

“NO!” The cry left her lips before she could think to stop it, her arms around Eizen’s neck in a vice grip as she furiously shook her head against his shoulder. The gentle pressure of Eizen’s hand on the back of her head made her stop flailing, but the thought of separation had her crying into his jacket once more.

“She refuses,” Eizen said.

She heard the elder sigh deeply through his nose and imagined he still had his arms crossed and eyes closed.

“Very well,” he said, “It appears you’ve already poisoned her anyway.”

The crowd dispersed after that, a few whispering to each other as they went to their own houses. They were expected to leave by morning. Although there hadn’t been more than light structural damage in their village, the human town wasn’t as fortunate. It was completely destroyed and not a single human survived. Consequently, the area had been soaked in malevolence. It didn’t pose them any immediate threat, but there was a worry that given time it would eventually drift upwards into the village. Many of the seraphim expressed apprehension at that, some murmuring suggestions that they just abandon the place, adopt vagabond lifestyles like the rest of the world’s seraphim had already done.

She didn’t care about that now, though. She was being kicked out of the only home she’d ever known, and it was likely that in a few years it wouldn’t be there anymore anyway. But that was fine, she told herself. She’d only really been connected to the village because Eizen was there anyway. So, as long as she was where Eizen was, she’d never really be homeless. Eizen was her home. As she lay on her bed after packing up what meager possessions she could think to take with her she turned her gaze to the window. The rain that had started from the dragon’s appearance was no longer falling, but the sky remained dark with clouds.

When they left the next morning, no one saw them off. She didn’t know how long they wandered for, only that it had been many days and nights of walking or getting carried when she was too tired to walk anymore. Finally, they stopped as they approached the peak of another mountain. There was no one around—human or seraphim—and the air was clean. Eizen deemed the place good enough to settle. It wasn’t a bad place, she thought.

Since there wasn’t any seraphic village here nor were any of the human villages in reasonable walking distance, there wasn’t much of a point in building a house here too. They didn’t need to either, since there was a small enclosure of rock carved into the mountain that would give them suitable shelter. Even so, it wasn’t as comfortable as the bed she’d always had. She didn’t complain, though. She wouldn’t! Past comforts meant nothing anymore. All that mattered was that she still had Eizen and now…now there was no way anything else bad could happen. Nothing else could push him away. No humans would take him from her now.

Or so she’d believed until one day, after they’d been settled into their new home for a while, Eizen made a sudden announcement.

“Edna, I’ve decided to go on a journey.”

It was late and they were eating dinner—a light vegetable soup. The sudden declaration made her pause in her eating, though she resumed shortly after the initial shock had passed.

“Okay, when are we leaving?��� Because of course he’d take her with him, right? A glance up to his face revealed a frown and his eyes hidden behind his stupid hair. …Right? “Eizen?”

“I meant alone, Edna. You’ll be staying here.”

Her bowl clattered to the ground as she jumped to her feet, soup forgotten.

“No I’m not!”

“Yes, you are. I have to go alone.”

“No you don’t! I can go with you!”

“It’s too dangerous! You’ll be safer here.”

“Is this because of what they said before? I thought you didn’t care about that!”

“I don’t, but they were right. I’ve let this curse hurt you for too long already.”

“You’re not the one hurting me! Take me with you, I can help!”

“No, I’ve made up my mind.”

“But—”

“Edna! You’re staying and that’s final!”

She ground her teeth and clenched her hands into fists as she glared at him. This didn’t make sense! Where had she gone wrong?! Why wasn’t he letting her go with him?! He’d set his own bowl aside when he started talking, so now his arms were crossed over his chest and his mouth was drawn in a frown. His typical stance that told her no further arguing would make him budge. She felt tears forming at the corner of her eyes, but before they could fall she turned quickly on her heel and ran outside, further up the mountain. He didn’t chase after her.

Later when she returned to their makeshift home, Eizen was already asleep and the mess she’d made earlier had been cleaned up. She stayed where she was at the entrance for a moment before grabbing her small cot and dragging it over to be next to Eizen’s, flopping down on it so her back was pressed to his. A simple comfort to tell her he was still there. Seraphim didn’t need to sleep anyway. She fully intended to stay awake until Eizen got up. If he was so intent on leaving her, then she just wouldn’t let him! Or so she stubbornly thought, not realizing when her eyes grew heavy and she fell asleep anyway.

In the morning, the first thing she noticed was the lack of warmth at her back. The realization had her sitting up quickly, heart seized in panic as she frantically looked around. He was gone. Did he really just leave without so much as a word to her? Was she too harsh last night? These panicked thoughts raced through her mind as she got up to investigate, but just as she was about to move Eizen appeared at the entrance. He had a dead bird in hand. Adrenaline left her in a relieved sigh as she slumped back down onto her cot.

As she made breakfast for them he told her that he wasn’t going to leave immediately, but it would be within the next day or two. He wouldn’t be gone forever, only until he found a cure for his curse. And most importantly, he’d keep in touch through letters. That was all fine, she supposed, but she still felt bitter that he was leaving her and not even giving her the option of going with him.

For the rest of the day she secluded herself on top of their rocky home, scribbling away with paper and pen she’d borrowed from their belongings. When she finally came back down the sun was low in the sky and Eizen was reading one of his books by firelight. Without any preamble she marched over and held what she’d spent all day working on in front of his face. A small self-portrait of her that barely took up a corner of the page.

“So you won’t forget what I look like,” she’d said.

Eizen blinked curiously at the paper before setting his book down and taking it in hand instead. He smiled at the childish scribble, a genuinely happy and amused smile that Edna hadn’t seen him do in a while. Then he took one of the pieces of paper and pens and scribbled for a few moments before presenting her with an equally bad self-portrait of himself.

“Seems only fair you have one too,” he’d said, “but they’ll get ruined if they stay exposed like this.”

Then something seemed to dawn on him and he got up to rummage through one of their packs. She watched him curiously and when he finally found what he was looking for he came back to her side. In his hands were two lockets—one on a long chain and the other on a short band of ribbon.

“If we do it like this,” he explained while gently tearing around the edges of both of their drawings, making them small enough that they could fit inside the lockets, “then we’ll always be close to each other, no matter how far away I am.”

In the long chained locket, he put her self-portrait then put it around his neck. He did the same with his in the smaller locket and then reached out to put it around her neck. She brought her hand up to gently touch the smooth stone of the locket and the simple action had tears pricking at the corner of her eyes. Eizen’s hand was heavy on top of her head as he ruffled her hair gently.

“Don’t cry, Edna. I told you this morning, didn’t I? I won’t be gone forever. I’ll be back, I promise.”

They went to bed after that. When she next woke up, the cot beside her was cold and a note had been placed under her arm. It had instructions for how to send a letter, an apology, and a repeat of the promise spoken last night. Edna read it, crumpled it up and tossed it aside, then rolled over onto Eizen’s abandoned cot and went back to sleep.

Seraphim, as should be expected, don’t have a writing system. Most didn’t write at all or even know how to write using the human’s script. It changed so much, most of them never bothered with it. However, years before they were kicked out of the village, Eizen had thought it a good idea to teach her how to write. She never used it or had a need to back then, but he made her practice anyway. Now, in hindsight, perhaps his plan to leave her had been in the works longer than she’d suspected.

It was only a few moon cycles after Eizen left that she received a letter—her first letter. At first she didn’t know what to do about it, until the Turtlez who delivered it suggested writing a reply before wandering off to give her time to write one. But that was the problem. All Eizen’s letter consisted of was an apology for abruptly leaving, some descriptions of what he’d seen so far, and a few crude drawings. She simultaneously had a lot she could say—that she wanted to say—and not much to say at all.

By the time evening had fallen and the Turtlez had come back to check on her, she’d filled at least 5 sheets of crumpled up paper with crossed out starts and sentences. This was annoying, she decided. Why did she need to only keep in touch with him this way? There wouldn’t be a need for any of this if he’d just taken her with him to begin with! Stupid curse! Stupid Eizen!!

In the end, there was only one thing she could think to say in response to his apology—to his letter in general. She wrote it quickly, folded and sealed it the way his instructions had said, and sent it off with the Turtlez. In the middle of the paper, in handwriting that was out of practice and childishly big, there was only a single sentence:

I don’t care if it’s dangerous, I want to be with you!

 - Hephsin Yulind

Despite various attempts she made in her letters since then, Eizen didn’t come home and always replied with more apologies and promises that he’d be back. Eventually, she gave up trying to persuade him. For a while after their first letter exchange she’d write short letters in response, but lately she had stopped writing them. It just became too bothersome. After all, unlike wherever Eizen was now, nothing changed about her life on the mountain. She maintained a sleep schedule out of habit, practiced her artes at the summit, sometimes ate, and sometimes read. Day in, day out. Nothing special to report usually. Besides, even with her lack of response Eizen continued to send letters and gifts.

It was because of one of those letters that she was sitting on a rock at the top of the path that led down the mountain. Her umbrella was open and resting on her shoulder as she twirled it subconsciously, her eyes scanning the path below. The letter she had gotten a few days before was Eizen telling her that he was coming home. For how long wasn’t said. Despite her best efforts, she couldn’t help but hope that it was forever.

She had been 10 years old when Eizen left. Though she had tried at first, she quickly lost track of how long it had been. At least 200 years, she thought. There was a point where she had noticed herself visibly aging and panicked a little about it. So she stopped aging quite as noticeably. It wouldn’t be good if she looked nothing like what Eizen remembered when he came home, she reasoned. If it at least looked like no time had passed at all, then…then maybe they could pretend that no time had actually passed. It may’ve been wishful thinking, but wish for it she did.

She was brought out of her thoughts when she noticed movement at the bottom of the path. Her eyes widened as she jumped up from her perch, the familiar bright yellow of Eizen’s hair unmistakable against the dull brown of the mountain path. The umbrella was no longer spinning, but the handle was clenched tightly in her hands as she watched him slowly come into focus.

When he was close enough that she could see his face more clearly he smiled and waved and suddenly the weight of 200 years of loneliness crashed down upon her heart.

“Eizen!” She called, her voice cracking as tears formed in her eyes.

200 years was a long time, she decided. 200 years too many. And now, finally, it was over. Finally, they could be a family again. Finally, time could move on as it was meant to. Even the dark cloud—which had only grown bigger and darker since he left—wasn’t going to take this away from her.

She closed her umbrella before taking an unthinking step forward, intending to run the rest of the way down to meet him since he was being a slowpoke. That had been the intent, but…

As soon as she took more than two steps forward an inhuman screech resounded above her. Looking up revealed a hoard of six Garuda hellions descending right for her. She hadn’t been prepared, so instead of using an arte to fend them off she helplessly waved her umbrella around at them; trying to knock them away and step away from them. It seemed to work a little, however she hadn’t been watching where her feet were going and didn’t hear Eizen’s warning until it was too late. Her foot met open air instead of solid ground. She screeched as her body became weightless, falling over the open side of the cliff. It didn’t last long though, as she immediately heard the sound of an arte going off, the Garuda hellion’s painful death cries and Eizen’s arms catching her out of mid-air and returning to the top of the path.

Her eyes had pinched shut when she began falling, but now they opened. She smiled, but when she found Eizen’s face it immediately fell. Eizen was frowning, his teeth gritted and eyes hidden by his bangs. It reminded her of how he looked when he’d saved her from the dragon all those years ago, and before that when she was bedridden with a burn. This realization took any relief she had been feeling and replaced it with newfound fear. He wasn’t—

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have come here. I thought it would work this time, but…”

He was.

She tried to get his attention, pull him from those annoying thoughts he was muttering under his breath. That train of thought he was on only led to one destination and she wouldn’t let it get there. She’d waited long enough already! But despite her attempts, even when she desperately reached out to grab at his coat sleeves, he continued to mutter about failed methods and danger.

“Eizen!”

But even calling his name and reassuring him she was okay wasn’t getting through. It was just a small hellion attack! It was purely coincidental! So what if before that moment there had never been any hellions this high up on the mountain?! It didn’t mean anything; it definitely didn’t mean that he needed to leave again!

Yet he set her down anyway with another apology before he turned to walk back down the path.

“Wait!” She cried, reaching out to grab the back of his coat, missing by mere centimeters. He paused anyway, so she didn’t waste the opportunity, “Don’t go! You only just got here! At least stay one night?”

It was the desperate pleas of a lonely little girl, and though Eizen had looked like he was considering it he still shook his head.

“It’s too dangerous still. I need to try something else,” he said before looking over his shoulder at her. He was smiling in a way that was supposed to be comforting, but she knew better than that, “I’ll be back, I promise.”

And for the second time in her life, she could only watch helplessly as he walked with his back to her, growing smaller and smaller the further he became. If she reached out, she could grab him, but her hand would only find empty air.

Her legs shook before she collapsed to her knees, her vision swimming with built up tears. Eizen wasn’t in sight anymore, so she dropped her hands to the ground, clenching her fists and disturbing the soil as she did.

Why? Why why why why why WHY?! He’d been so close to being home! If those stupid Garuda… If she had just…

A drop of water on the ground between her hands that wasn’t rain. It felt hard to breathe, like a hand had plunged into her chest and was now squeezing around her heart. Her eyes were burning, more droplets joining the first, and all she could think to do now was scream. A sharp, mournful scream. He still didn’t come back.

She received another letter soon after that. Another useless apology, another meaningless promise. Unlike before, she didn’t answer the first letter. Or the second, or the third, or the fortieth. Gifts came every few letters, some interesting, some weird. Though she accepted them and created a small pile of them, she saw them for what they were—an extension of his apologies that would accompany them. When the letter confirming what she suspected deep down came to her, she finally replied. She supposed she’d have to since Eizen no longer intended to come home again.

The letters and gifts continued for many centuries. Eizen didn’t apologize as much as he did before, and when reading his letters, he sounded happy to her. The realization was bittersweet—that her brother was happier among humans than he’d ever been around her, though she supposed it had always been the case. She just hadn’t wanted to see it.

Since Eizen no longer planned to come home, she supposed she wasn’t really bound to the mountain anymore like she had been, yet she stayed anyway. No matter how boring it was, it felt like she needed to be there.

As time went on, she noticed, Eizen’s letters became less lengthy, and then less frequent—a development that began to concern her when she received a single glove as a gift from one letter, then his boots several letters later. He’d explained that he bought a new pair, so he felt like she should have his old ones instead. A simple, logical explanation that she would’ve bought…if he hadn’t sounded like he was planning on dying.

The last letter she received was delivered to her on a summer day. It didn’t have a gift, but it was an activity report. Something or someone was bothering Maotelus’ domain, he’d said in the letter. So he was going to investigate and take care of the problem. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, a typical Eizen letter at that point. Except for the way it ended:

Remember that it’s harmful to hold on to the past. Let it go and keep facing forward. Always keep in mind that you steer your own ship.

 - Uzfmiwuw Uexuv

It was philosophical nonsense that Eizen often wrote about in his letters. He’d never said them to her like that, though. Reading the words, a pit of anxiety formed in her stomach and remained there into the next day. Something was wrong, and she feared she knew what.

She was forcefully awoken several nights later by the weight of a domain, the likes of which she hadn’t felt in 1,000 years. It was suffocating, each painful breath she tried to take making her choke on the malevolent air. A brief flash of memory to the purple haze of a forest and she was on her feet quickly to look for the domain’s source. The malevolence here was thicker and more oppressive than the domain she remembered. What that meant, she didn’t know.

Stumbling outside, she was greeted by the sight of a familiar black shape against the purple hued sky, the sound of its roar—its scream—making her fall to her knees as she helplessly watched it fly around the peak. All of a sudden, she was 8 years old again, kidnapped by a dragon that had spontaneously transformed. The dragon back then hadn’t been Eizen, but this one…

“Eizen…” She said, her voice small and strained with tears that were beginning to fall down her cheeks.

Eizen finally came home, but he wasn’t Eizen anymore.

And so, what was the point of this trip down memory lane? Being able to remember so much in such detail was probably useful for some, she supposed, but it was utterly useless to her. She envied Lailah for being older than her and only barely remembering her own earliest memories, Zaveid for being third oldest and also only remembering bits and pieces, and Meebo who was too much of a baby to even have many memories to count yet.

These three seraphim, and even the humans she’d begrudgingly agreed to travel with, were far more blessed than she was. Blessed with the ability to forget. She wished she could forget, even a little bit.

“It’s harmful to hold on to the past,” had been Eizen’s last written words to her.

“You may not have journeyed together, but with this you can share the memories,” Rose had said as they all looked upon Eizen’s grave.

Such contradicting sentiments. Memories weren’t blessings to be passed around like stories at a campfire. Memories, especially for earth seraphim like her, were a curse. She was cursed with the weight of her whole lifetime of memories, and many more to come in the future. She always would be. Much like Eizen had been cursed from birth, perhaps this too was her own kind of curse. A curse she didn’t start feeling until he came home as a dragon—and again as she helped to bring 200 years of his suffering to an end.

Mountains are strong. They endure no matter what disasters are thrown at them. If the oceans rise, they become islands. If the earth shakes, they grow taller. If the wind erodes them, they only grow rounder. If a fire wipes away all life on its surface, the mountain beneath stands strong in the end. Eizen’s love of humanity and the journey he went on had given him many mountains of memories. If she continued her own journeys and made more memories, would she suffer the same fate as Eizen?

She supposed only time could tell.