#Lazarus Eut

[thewholekeg]

Lazarus isn't much for parties, but he does enjoy humouring Elizabeth.

[lucianprincess]

Chapitre 16 : Les Lames Royales

E.M. 753

Le lendemain, comme prévu, Aurora se rendit au quartier général des Lames Royales. Malgré l’enthousiasme dont elle faisait preuve depuis quelques semaines à l'idée de pouvoir en apprendre plus sur la magie royale, elle n'avait malheureusement pas le cœur à cela en ce jour tant attendu. Son esprit était bien trop préoccupé par l'état de santé de son père et par ce qu'elle avait appris la veille concernant le Mur. Elle inspira profondément et tenta de ne rien laisser paraître alors que Titus Drautos l'accompagner dans la salle stratégique. En apercevant leur Capitaine, les Lames se mirent en ligne au garde à vous.

— Bonjour à tous, je vous présente Son Altesse Aurora Lucis Caelum, la fille de Notre Roi.  A la demande de ce dernier, elle participera à certains de nos entraînements pour parfaire ses compétences.

Il balaya ses hommes du regard avant de poursuivre.

— Ulric, vous serez son tuteur. Elle sera sous votre responsabilité et ses erreurs seront les vôtres. Altius, vous le suppléerez dans sa tâche.

Nyx Ulric et Crowe Altius s'avancèrent d'un pas et acquiescèrent d'un signe de tête en répondant en chœur.

— A vos ordres,  Capitaine.

Titus se retourna vers Aurora, esquissant un fin sourire mesquin.

— Quant à vous, Princesse, vous êtes consciente que vous n'aurez aucun traitement de faveur ?

— Oh, mais... Je n'en attendais pas moins venant de vous, Capitaine Drautos.

La jeune fille lui répondit sur le même ton méprisant, n'ayant pas peur de le défier du regard. Titus hocha de la tête et reporta son attention sur les Lames Royales.

— Sur ce, rompez.

Les Lames Royales repartirent à leurs discussions tandis que Nyx, Crowe et certains de leurs camarades s'approchèrent d'Aurora. Le jeune homme lui sourit chaleureusement.

— Votre Altesse, c'est un plaisir de vous revoir par ici.

— Le plaisir est partagé Monsieur Ulric.

— Appelez-moi Nyx. J'ai l'impression de prendre vingt ans de plus d'un coup quand on m'appelle ainsi.

Aurora pouffa de rire, comprenant bien que le jeune homme tentait de détendre un peu l'atmosphère.

— Je vous présente Crowe Altius, Libertus Ostium, Luche Lazarus et Pelna Khara.

— Enchantée de faire votre connaissance.

— Tout le plaisir est pour nous, Votre Altesse.

Aurora fit une petite grimace. Même si elle était habituée au protocole et aux titres de noblesse, leur utilisation à outrance commençait à lui pesait quelque peu.

— Vous pouvez m’appeler Aurora. Ça m’ira parfaitement. D'autant plus que votre Capitaine a bien stipulé que je serai logée à la même enseigne que n'importe quelle Lame Royale.

Ils hochèrent de la tête tandis Crowe prit la parole. Elle s'adressa à elle d'une voix douce et rassurante.

— Je vais vous montrer nos vestiaires. Nous allons essayer de vous trouver un casier et des vêtements à votre taille. Ensuite, nous ferons le point sur ce que vous êtes déjà capable de faire ou non.

Elle jeta un regard à Nyx pour avoir son aval. Ce dernier acquiesça d'un signe de tête. D'un geste de la main, elle convia la jeune Princesse à la suivre. Elles empruntèrent un couloir et arrivèrent rapidement aux vestiaires des femmes. La Lame Royale fit rapidement le tour de la pièce et trouva un casier vide qu'elle indiqua à Aurora en souriant. Crowe se dirigea vers un placard sur lequel étaient entreposés des cartons de vêtements neufs. Elle en descendit un puis jaugea rapidement la demoiselle du regard. Elle fouilla un instant et en sortit une combinaison. Elle fit de même pour une veste et des bottes.

— Tenez, ça devrait être à votre taille.

— Merci beaucoup.

Aurora tourna le dos à la jeune femme, quelque peu pudique, afin d'enfiler la tenue. Elle fut surprise par son confort et apprécia grandement l'aisance de mouvements qu'elle pouvait avoir avec. Ceci fait, elles retrouvèrent Nyx et les autres sur le terrain d’entraînement. La jeune Princesse observa les lieux, se remémorant sa chute et sa première Éclipse tactique.

— Alors, dites-moi, Princ… Aurora, que savez-vous de la magie royale ?

— Je sais qu’il s’agit de la magie dont héritent les descendants de la lignée des Lucii. Et en fondant les Lames Royales, mon père a souhaité conféré une partie de cette magie à des hommes et des femmes prêts à tout pour défendre leur patrie.

— Bravo. Vous avez bien appris vos leçons, Princesse.

— Luche…

— D’accord, d’accord. Je vous laisse. Jouez bien aux nounous!

Nyx soupira en regardant son camarade sarcastique, secouant la tête de dépit tandis Luche s’éloigna, emmenant Pelna et Libertus avec lui. Il reporta son attention sur la jeune fille et poursuivit.

— Et concernant son utilisation? Connaissez-vous ses différentes applications possibles?

— Je sais qu’elle nous permet de nous téléporter, d’utiliser la magie élémentaire, ou encore d’invoquer des armes, mais pas davantage.

— Pouvez-vous me montrer ce que vous savez déjà faire?

— Bien sûr.

Aurora fit un pas en arrière, s’écartant un peu de Crowe et de lui pour avoir un peu d’espace. Elle respira un grand coup et ferma les yeux pour se concentrer. Elle tendit la main sur le côté, invoquant sa dague et dans un même temps, elle la lança vers le ciel. Dans la seconde qui suivit, la jeune Princesse s’était déjà téléportée au dessus d’eux, flottant un instant dans les airs avant d’amorcer sa descente. Nyx leva les yeux, l’apercevant, et posa sa main sur sa dague accrochée dans son dos, prêt à réagir. La jeune Princesse commença à chuter quand soudain, elle se téléporta de nouveau, se retrouvant dans le dos de la Lame Royale. Ce dernier, relativement agile, s’était déjà retourné, comme s’il avait anticipé son attaque et vint bloquer la lame de demoiselle avec la sienne. Nyx contre-attaqua et Aurora esquiva d’un mouvement de côté en usant de la magie royale. Elle lui saisit le poignet, commençant lentement à le geler pour l’immobiliser et plaça sa dague sous la gorge. Le jeune homme grimaça légèrement quant à la douleur provoquée par l’engourdissement progressif de sa main. Ses camarades, postés un peu plus loin, observaient la scène et fut surpris des capacités de la jeune fille pourtant débutante.

— C’est bon. On s’arrête là.

Aurora le lâcha, faisant disparaître sa dague et Nyx se frotta le poignet, esquissant un sourire.

— Et bien… Je n’avais jamais vu encore quelqu’un manipuler la Glace ainsi.

La jeune Princesse fit une petite moue, désolée.

— Je ne vous ai pas fait mal, j’espère?

— Non, ne vous en faites pas. Vous avez fait des progrès depuis la dernière fois que nous nous sommes vu. Mais vous avez encore beaucoup à apprendre.

Nyx reporta son attention sur Crowe et la questionna.

— Tu commencerai par quoi?

Elle réfléchit un instant.

— Hmm… Vous semblez à l’aise avec les armes… Suivez-vous déjà un entraînement ailleurs?

— Oui. Je suis en formation dans la Garde Royale.

— Oh. Ceci explique celà.

La jeune femme sourit doucement à Aurora.

— Dans ce cas, j’aurai bien commencé par la maîtrise des éléments. Le Feu et la Foudre restent des bases et je ne pense pas que celà sera une grosse difficulté pour elle. Nous verrons pour le Bouclier et devenir invisible plus tard.

Aurora arqua un sourcil, étonnée.

— Devenir invisible? Vous êtes sérieux?

Nyx, sourire amusé aux lèvres, fit un mouvement avec sa dague. Les particules cristallines qui en émanèrent le rendirent alors invisible. La jeune Princesse écarquilla les yeux et le chercha du regard. En vain. Soudain, il réapparut juste derrière son dos, venant murmurer au creux de son oreille.

— Très sérieux…

Aurora sursauta, portant sa main à son coeur prêt à sortir de sa poitrine à cause de l’effet de surprise et se retourna.

— Par les Six! Vous m’avez fait peur!

Le jeune homme rit de bon coeur, Crowe également, avant d’être rejoint par Aurora.

— Navré. Mais oui, c’est une capacité plutôt utile sur le terrain. Que ce soit pour se faufiler discrètement ou pour prendre l’ennemi par surprise.

— Je veux bien vous croire.

Nyx reprit une distance convenable vis à vis de la demoiselle et continua.

— Mais pour ce premier jour, nous allons commencer par quelque chose de plus simple. D’accord?

— Pas de problème.

Les deux Lames Royales passèrent la matinée à expliquer à Aurora comment s’approprier un élément, le contrôler et arriver à s’en servir. Si au niveau théorique, elle semblait avoir assimiler le concept, la pratique se révélait être très différente. Elle tenta d’absorber le Feu d’un des conteneurs de magie en face d’elle. Elle ferma les yeux, se concentra de toutes ses forces mais elle ne réussit qu’à faire vaciller la flamme. Elle essaya de faire de même avec la Foudre, mais elle n’eut guère plus de succès. Cependant, ce n’était pas cet échec qui allait ébranler sa motivation. Nyx eut soudain une idée et voulut en avoir le coeur net. Il apporta un conteneur de magie de Glace, le posa devant Aurora et l’invita à faire la même opération qu’avec les deux précédents éléments. La jeune Princesse acquiesça et procéda de la même manière, à la différence que cette fois-ci, à sa grande surprise, elle réussit sans aucun mal à l’absorber.

— C’est bien ce que je pensais. Vous avez une plus grande affinité avec cet élément qu’avec les deux autres.

— Pourtant, je n’ai jamais rien fait de particulier pour ça…

Aurora regarda sa main, pensive. Pourquoi la glace plutôt que le feu ou la foudre? Tout à coup, elle se remémora les murmures et les visions de la Glacéenne et de l’Infernal que lui avait envoyé le Cristal il y a plusieurs années. Elle se demanda finalement si le froid qu’elle avait ressenti à ce moment là ne l’avait pas affecté outre mesure. La voix de la Lame Royale la sortit de ses pensées.

— Ne vous en faites pas. Cela arrive parfois. Avec du temps et de l'entraînement, vous finirez par maîtriser tous les éléments sans aucun problème.

Nyx lui sourit de façon rassurante et bienveillante. Aurora hocha de la tête, lui rendant son sourire.

— Mais pour le moment, une pause s’impose! Allons déjeuner. Nous continuerons cet après-midi, sauf si vous avez quelque chose d’autre à faire.

— Je dois juste me rendre à mon entraînement avec la Garde Royale à dix-sept heures mais sinon je n’ai rien de prévu d’ici là.

— Ménagez-vous quand même, Aurora. Suivre deux formations en plus de vos études, c’est un pari risqué.

— Crowe a raison, vous allez finir par vous épuiser à ce rythme.

Ils la regardèrent tous deux inquiets mais la jeune Princesse conservait son entrain habituel.

— Cela ne me fait pas peur. Tant que c’est pour la bonne cause.

— Faites juste attention à vous, d’accord?

— Promis.

Nyx hocha de la tête en invita les deux jeunes femmes à le suivre jusqu’au mess, profitant de ce moment de détente pour retrouver leurs camarades et faire plus amples connaissances.

[thewholekeg]

An attempt to practice scenery drawing that blossomed into something a bit more narrative.

For as many snippets and doodles I've posted of Elizabeth, Lazarus, and the general Catbellers setting I've been developing, I don't think I've ever really talked about the setting itself.

'Catbeller' is not a cutesy name in an anthropomorphic world; the mice of Kenwald Forest are mice. Intelligent, certainly, but still very much mice. And when one is small enough, mastering ones environment becomes a great deal more difficult.

As we see here, for example, something as simple as a fallen tree on the highway requires a fair amount of work to overcome. When the forest is dark and you are small, a well-maintained highway is something very important indeed.

Elizabeth's title is quite literal--she makes a career of fending off her people's many predators--but as a 'Circuit Agent', her job also involves guarding and reporting on the highways between the mice's seven great City-States.

[thewholekeg]

Some style tests for a possible upcoming project

[thewholekeg]

Langsum Dim in Kenwald

Or, Elizabeth's New Clothes

The moon had roamed the sky over Kenwald for two days. Now, it had finally found its way to the very centre, where it hung, bright and full, over the forest.

The night was clear. So clear it seemed to glitter, as though the stark winter cold had frozen the air itself. On the ground, a thick sheet of snow painted the world in endless, shimmering white. It looked as though the stars had descended to earth. It was the depths of the longest night of the year, and it was perfect, and silent, and still.

Lazarus Eut peered out of the wagon, taking it in. The snow glowed in the moonlight, almost daylight-bright. It was the perfect night to stay up talking and drinking with friends. Or to make new friends. Or even just to roam the streets, peeking in shop windows and waving to all the other mice roaming the streets and peeking in shop windows.

But, he supposed, you needed a city for shops. And all his friends were back in Willowvalley.

Well… no, that wasn’t true.

A woman joined Lazarus at the door. Just a whisker shorter than he, but with an unflappable confidence that made her seem a foot tall at times. Powerful, self-assured, and beautiful.

He turned to her. “It doesn’t look like anyone’s going to be coming,” he said.

“That’s no surprise,” Elizabeth Stopper replied. She peeked out past him, her eyes darting quickly over the landscape. “Most sensible mice make it to a city, or at least bunker down by the first day of Langsum Dim. Five days of darkness is a grim prospect, Merciful or no.”

Lazarus smiled wryly. “So what’s our excuse, then?” he asked.

Every year, in the depths of winter, the world turned dark. The sun set, and for almost five days it did not rise. Oh, the midday sky lightened, and the thin blue-gray sliver of dusk appeared along the horizon, but true daylight never came. Soon enough, the sky was dark again.

It was almost midnight, now, of the third day of Langsum Dim. The true longest night of the year.

“Business,” Elizabeth replied. “Duty.” She smirked. “Sheer, unstoppable bone-headedness.”

Lazarus chuckled. “That’s funny, you’d think William would be here, if that was all.”

Langsum Dim was a time for celebration–perhaps the time for celebration. A time to gather together with friends and family. A time to feast, and to laugh. To play games, and exchange gifts. At least, it had been. In the city.

He felt Elizabeth’s hand on his arm, and realised he must have looked terribly dour. “Well!” he said. “I suppose that means this beautiful view is just for us, then, hmm?”

“Do you miss it?” Elizabeth asked.

Lazarus faltered. “There’s no point in missing it,” he said.

“That isn’t a no,” Elizabeth retorted. “In fact, I’m fairly certain it’s a yes.”

Her eyes were piercing. Kind, but kind in the way of a doctor who's just been told a broken leg is ‘not that bad’ and that ‘there’s no need to fuss over it, really’. She could stop a cat in its tracks, Lazarus was sure.

He sighed. His breath fogged in the cold night air, the stream of vapour underlining his melancholy. “I do miss it,” he said. “But there’s no point in missing it. I can’t go back. I’ll settle down eventually, build a new life for myself. But for now… I have this.”

Elizabeth cocked her head at him, putting on a pout that would be much more convincing if she hadn’t still been smiling. “Surely it isn’t so terrible to be stuck with me for Langsum Dim, is it?”

Lazarus felt a warm tingle in his ears.He plucked at them, and said, “I was rather trying to say that it’s a good thing,” he said.

“Oh, good,” Elizabeth said. “I’m glad we agree, then.”

Lazarus shook his head, chuckling. Then he stood still for a moment, not sure whether to look at the night, or at Elizabeth.

“... Miss Elizabeth,” he said, after a moment, “would you sit outside with me? For a while? I know it’s cold, but…”

“Oh no,” Elizabeth laughed. “The cold. Whatever shall I do?” Her blue eyes twinkled like another pair of stars, and she stepped past him. She sat on the back step, clearing a patch of snow beside her. 

A patch, Lazarus noticed, that was just large enough for him to sit shoulder to shoulder with her. He smiled, and ducked inside the wagon for a moment.

“Lazarus?” Elizabeth asked.

“Sorry,” Lazarus said. He quickly snatched up a bundle from where he’d hid it underneath his bunk. “Just grabbing–well.” He stepped quickly back out, lowering himself down into the patch that Elizabeth had cleared.

Elizabeth peered at him as he sat down, smiling bemusedly.

“Sorry,” Lazarus said again. “Just, ah…”

“Grabbing something warmer?” Elizabeth suggested, shrugging to emphasise the shawl wrapped around her shoulders.

“Ah,” Lazarus said. He suddenly felt the chill settling into his arms. “That would have been…”

Elizabeth chuckled. She put her whole body into it, leaning in and rubbing her shoulder against his. He was almost positive that she did it on purpose, but even Elizabeth couldn’t be that deliberate. Then again…

Elizabeth opened her shawl, smiling impishly up at him. “You’re welcome to share mine,” she cooed. “This time of year it’s important to conserve warmth, you know…”

The warmth in Lazarus’s ears crept lower. “I got you a gift,” he said sharply. “Um. Miss Elizabeth.”

Elizabeth stopped suddenly, blinking. “A gift?” she asked.

Lazarus swallowed hard and took out one of the bundles, a small, rectangular package wrapped in plain brown paper. He held it out for her. “I’m sorry it’s not better wrapped, but…”

“Hush,” Elizabeth chided him. “It’s wonderful. Thank you, Lazarus.” She sat up, carefully untied the twine of the package, unfolded the paper, and immediately burst out laughing.

“Oh my goodness!” Elizabeth cried, almost gasping for air. She lifted the contents of the package, watching it unfold with an expression of awe. The finest fabrics had been precisely cut and immaculately tailored into a piece that was, almost certainly, still technically clothing. “Mr. Eut!”

“So you can blush!” Lazarus laughed.

Elizabeth clapped a hand to her cheek. “What?” she asked.

Lazarus pointed at the dark shade crawling across her cheeks and muzzle. “I can see it through your fur!” he said. “I wasn’t sure I’d ever see it, but you can blush after all!”

“Well, I should say so!” Elizabeth said, laughing again. She grinned incredulously at him. “I have never received a gift like this from a man! And besides,” she pointed an accusing finger at him, “you’re one to talk! Look at you!”

Lazarus was very aware of the burning in his ears now. They must have been bright pink. Still, he clung to his victory. “You can make me blush without hardly trying, but I’ve never seen you do it!”

“Well, consider yourself successful, then,” Elizabeth said. “Honestly!”

Her smile turned sly suddenly, and she leaned in. “If you think I’m red now, just imagine how much I’ll be blushing when I wear it.”

“I–” Lazarus said. He stopped dead as his train of thought was obliterated by another engine hurtling down the tracks. “W-what!?” he stammered.

Elizabeth grinned victoriously at him. She tapped his nose, which was burning along with his ears. “There it is,” she said.

“B-but,” Lazarus said. “You–I mean, that, you, M-miss Stopper, I–I didn’t mean for you to–”

“Oh, but I must,” she cooed. “It was, after all, a gift. It would be terribly rude not to.” She leaned heavily, pressing herself against his arm. “Don’t you agree Mr. Eut?”

“Miss Stopper,” Lazarus said, helplessly.

Elizabeth laughed so hard she almost toppled over him. “You shouldn’t start fights you can’t finish, Mr. Eut.”

“This isn’t how I imagined this going,” Lazarus said.

“Oh, I think I can guess how you imagined this going,” Elizabeth said. She grinned. “But you know, the night is still young…”

“Miss Stopper!”

Elizabeth laughed again. “Oh, alright,” she said. “Fuddy duddy.” She began folding the cloth back up. “Well, it is very pretty. But you can have it back, if you like, so you can return it the next time you’re in… where did you pick this up?”

“... Boldburrow,” Lazarus said. He rubbed his nose, desperately trying to work out the blush. “... And… you don’t have to do that…”

“Mm-hm,” Elizabeth said.

“It was a gift,” Lazarus said. “It would be rude–”

“Mmmm-hm,” Elizabeth said.

The blush came back. Lazarus tried to banish it again, but there was just no helping it.

“Honestly, Lazarus,” Elizabeth chuckled, “you are just too much fun.”

Despite his best efforts, Lazarus smiled as well. “Well… I’m glad it was worth a laugh, at least… and well-received. I admit, I thought it was a bit of a gamble…”

“And then you got to know me for five minutes?” Elizabeth asked, elbowing him gently.

“Well, still!” Lazarus laughed. “You are still a lady, after all.”

“Oh, thank you for noticing,” Elizabeth said.

“I did get you a gift,” Lazarus said. “A real one, I mean.” He took out the second bundle, a much smaller, slimmer box tied with a bow, and laid it gently on Elizabeth’s leg.

“Oh, Lazarus,” Elizabeth said. “You didn’t need to–I wasn’t expecting anything.”

“I know,” Lazarus said. “But I wanted to. You’re my…”

He hesitated. Elizabeth peered at him out of the corner of her eye. Not expectantly, per se, but…

“I care about you, very much,” Lazarus said.

That seemed to be enough. Elizabeth smiled, and said, “Thank you, Lazarus. I care about you too.”

She undid the bow and opened the box. It was a necklace, a small silver shield on a chain. On the back of the shield Lazarus had personally engraved the name, ‘Marjory’.

“I hope you like it,” Lazarus said. “I–I know it might mean more to me than you, but I hope–”

“Oh, Lazarus,” Elizabeth gasped. She lifted it delicately out of its box. “It’s wonderful. I love it.”

She turned to Lazarus. Her eyes shone even brighter than the silver. “Help me put it on?”

“Ah–of course,” Lazarus said. He took the necklace from her, hesitating as Elizabeth’s fingers brushed over his.

She turned away from him, scoping her hair aside and letting him at the back of her neck. Lazarus carefully laced the chain around her throat. As he did, he found his eyes tracing the arch of her neck, and the muscle of her shoulder. A small gust of wind pressed her scent up his nose, sweet and light and gentle. He shivered.

Elizabeth turned slightly, peering over her shoulder at him. Lazarus could feel his ears redden as she smiled.

“There,” Lazarus said as he fixed the clasp on the necklace. “How does that feel?”

Elizabeth adjust the necklace slightly, letting the medallion rest at the crest of her–

Lazarus looked out at the snow.

“Good,” Elizabeth said. “Cold?”

Lazarus blinked. “Cold?” he asked. “Well–the metal, I suppose…”

Elizabeth laughed. “Not the necklace,” she said. “You. Are you cold?”

Lazarus turned back to her. She was looking up at him, and a knowing smile told him she already knew the answer. But there was a hint of concern in her eyes as well.

Lazarus smiled. “A bit,” he admitted. “But I’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure?” Elizabeth asked. Her smile turned impish, and she lifted the edge of her shawl. “The offer is still open.”

Lazarus didn’t need to answer. They both laughed.

“Have you ever spent Langsum Dim in the forest?” Elizabeth asked.

“No,” Lazarus said. He rubbed his ears, chasing away the last of the blush. “When I was young–very young–my parents would throw big parties with lots of other mice. I’m not sure who, exactly–I mostly stayed and watched from up the stairs, or played with the staff. There was always a party for them, too, with all the same kinds of food my family had. But after my parents passed, when I was at the school…”

He leaned back on his hands, bracing himself against a particularly difficult memory. “The first year, I stayed at the school over the holidays. Not many other mice did, and none of them cared for me much. I spent my first Langsum Dim without my parents completely alone. I think that did a lot for me getting over myself.”

“Oh, Lazarus,” Elizabeth said softly. She wrapped his arms around his, holding him close.

Lazarus smiled. “I can’t say I didn’t deserve it,” he said. “Everyone loses mice. It’s no excuse for being cruel to someone else. Anyways…”

He hesitated for a moment, then put a reassuring hand on Elizabeth’s. “After that, I made friends with William, and he brought me home with him during Langsum Dim. His family didn’t have much, but they were happy to share it. After school, when things started to get better, I repaid the favour. I invited them to my house for a party every year. And William, of course. And Bethany, and all our other friends from school. And then the other workers in the shop, and the baker whose shop I got breakfast at, and the owner of the alehouse we’d go to after work sometimes, and…”

He trailed off, letting Elizabeth laugh at him.

“And here I thought parties weren’t your element,” she said.

“They’re not,” Lazarus said, laughing as well. “Langsum Dim is different. It’s… just in my blood, I suppose.”

He looked out over the field. It had snowed two days ago now, leaving a thick sheet that lay, perfect and glowing, over the world. Utterly unbroken. Save for Elizabeth and Lazarus, no mouse had stopped here at least since then.

“This is… different,” Lazarus said. But he shrugged it off and smiled again. “What about you?”

“Hmm?” Elizabeth asked.

“Langsum Dim,” Lazarus said. “What were yours like? You must have spent most in a city?”

“Oh, I suppose,” Elizabeth said. “When I was much younger, of course. Though it was hardly a celebration to speak of.”

She wrapped her shawl tighter around her. Her eyes took on a soft, distant quality. Not for the first time, Lazarus wondered how a woman could seem a foot tall at times, yet so very small at others.

“All of the children tried to bring something to eat,” she said. She smiled wryly. “Some of us even bought it. But we all ate together on the work house floor, bundled up against the cold. Then we would tell stories until we all drifted off to sleep.

“When I was in the Belltower it was much different. There was an enormous celebration every year–although, never officially. We would always find a reason, though. Beatrice had never had cordial, so we just had to get her some. Bernard had finally stopped huffing and puffing and had talked to his boy of the month. Burgess was hungry for a midnight snack. Whatever reason we invented, we all knew what it really was. And no matter how hard we trained, or how much we ached, nothing was going to stop us.

“But, after I graduated, I went on the circuit.” Elizabeth’s eyes had come back to the present, and she looked out over the clearing. She looked at it like an old friend. But maybe, Lazarus thought, one that she wasn’t sure she wanted anymore. “Since then, I’ve spent most of my Langsum Dims out in the forest. When I’m lucky I find a few carriages stopped together for the nights, but most years are like this.”

Lazarus watched her face carefully. “That sounds lonely,” he said.

Elizabeth blinked. Then she smiled, and leaned against his shoulder. “Does this feel lonely to you?” she asked.

Lazarus smiled as well, but it was gentle. “You didn’t have me every year,” he said.

Elizabeth’s smile faded, and for a moment she looked thoughtful. Then she looked back up, into Lazarus’s eyes, and her smile returned. “You’re right,” she said. “I didn’t. I’m glad I do.”

“I’m glad too,” Lazarus said.

A cold, sharp wind blew, cutting right through Lazarus. He shivered violently for a moment. “Ah,” he laughed. “Maybe… your shawl might be a good idea after all?”

Elizabeth chuckled and undid her shawl. Then she frowned. It was immediately clear that there was no way they were getting it around both their shoulders, no matter how close they sat.

“... Why don’t I get a blanket?” Lazarus suggested.

If it wasn’t everything Elizabeth wanted, it at least seemed to be good enough. “Alright,” she said. “I’ll keep your seat warm.”

“I won’t be long,” Lazarus chuckled as he stood up. He ducked quickly inside, grabbing the thick quilt off his bunk and bundling it up to carry back out.

“Lazarus!” Elizabeth said suddenly. “Come quick!”

Lazarus jumped back outside to find Elizabeth pointing at the sky. He looked up, and almost dropped the blanket.

A thin sliver of green had cut down the night sky. As Lazarus watched, it grew longer, and was joined by more and more, until they formed a line that stretched across the horizon. They shivered, flowing gently around each other until the line bent and curled like a river.

Lazarus sat down, awestruck. Beside him, Elizabeth took the blanket from his hands and threw it around both their shoulders. She leaned against him as they watched the sky.

The slivers blended together, forming into a long, continuous ribbon of light. More were forming, bending around each other in waves. They lit the sky, hiding the stars wherever they danced. And they danced–oh, how they danced! Three, five–dozens of ribbons formed, waving in the sky like streamers, like the hairs of a beautiful, iridescent giant.

Greens and blues and golds flashed through the air. It was unlike anything Lazarus had ever seen. Brighter than the brightest scryptfire, wilder than a candle flame. A kaleidoscope of raw, meaningless beauty.

And then, as quickly as it came, it vanished. One by one the dancers bowed their heads and faded, first into slivers, and then into nothing. Soon, there was nothing left but the stars. Beautiful, but somehow smaller for what they’d just seen.

Lazarus realized that his mouth was hanging open. He closed it quickly, and looked back down at Elizabeth.

She was beaming up at him. “Was that your first time seeing it?” she asked.

“I’ve… I’ve seen it before,” Lazarus said. “But only faint glimmers. Nothing like that. That was… incredible.”

“It’s harder to see in the cities,” Elizabeth explained. “The streetlights and the houses make the sky too bright to really see. But out here, this time of year…”

Their eyes met. Lazarus almost forgot about the aurora.

Then Elizabeth’s eyes flicked down. She was still smiling. “I got you something as well,” she said.

“What?” Lazarus asked.

Elizabeth opened the blanket for a moment, handing a small box to Lazarus.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Lazarus said as he took it.

“I know,” Elizabeth said. “I wanted to.”

Lazarus looked at the box. It was small and plain, and tied with a shining green ribbon. He untied it and opened the box, and blinked at what was inside.

It was a golden timepiece. Not a large one, but the exterior was lined with intricate scrollwork. When he flicked it open, the inside of the lid was engraved with a date: 18th Aenginn, 417 M.E.

“The day I left Willowvalley,” Lazarus said.

“To count the time,” Elizabeth explained. “Since your new life began.” An uncharacteristic look of uncertainty flashed across her face. “Maybe silly, but…”

“No,” Lazarus said. “No, it’s not silly at all. Thank you, Elizabeth. I love it.”

Elizabeth smiled. She almost seemed to hesitate before saying, “I’m glad. I care about you, Lazarus. And I… haven’t gotten to share this with many mice. I’m glad I have with you.”

“I’m glad too,” Lazarus said.

They stared at each other, each one trying to think of something to say. When neither could, they turned back to the sky, just in case the Aurora decided to begin again. It didn’t, but that was alright. Elizabeth leaned against Lazarus’s shoulder. And for once, Lazarus didn’t worry even a little about leaning back.

They sat out there, watching the stars twinkle, for a long time. How long exactly, neither one really new. Lazarus hadn’t thought to wind the timepiece yet. But it was long enough that, eventually, Elizabeth yawned, and stretched in her seat.

“I think I’m going to step back inside,” she said. “I still need to get changed.”

“Changed?” Lazarus asked. “For what?”

Elizabeth grinned. “For you, of course.” she lifted the first package he’d given her. “I’m going to change into your gift.”

Lazaru’s ears flushed so hot and so fast he thought they’d caught fire. “Wh–you can’t do that!” he cried.

“Why not?” Elizabeth laughed. She stood up, swishing her skirt playfully at him. “It looked just my size.”

“W-well yes, but,” Lazarus sputtered. “But it’s not–it was just a–you can’t!”

Elizabeth stepped up into the wagon, brushing her tail under Lazarus’s nose.

“Miss Stopper,” Lazarus said, helplessly.

She stopped and turned in the doorway, grinning naughtily down at Lazarus. “Then you’ll just have to take it away from me,” she said. She laughed, and disappeared inside.

Lazarus moaned the moan of a man who knew how lucky he was, and followed after her.

The sky was clean and clear, a pool of stars as endless as the ocean. All around them, the field was dressed in glowing, unbroken snow. It was the depths of the longest nights of the year, and it was perfect.

[thewholekeg]

A standalone version of the picture at the end of my last story, for those who don't want to read all the way through.

[thewholekeg]

“Mr. Eut,” Elizabeth said, fixing him with a smile. “I believe you promised me a dance.”

Lazarus blinked, looking around at the destruction left in the wake of the battle. “Ah,” he said. “What, now?”

“Yes, now,” Elizabeth said, her smile turning impish. “The day is won, new scrypts to dazzle the world, justice prevailed, etcetera etcetera. I can hardly think of a more appropriate time. Can you?”

“As it happens, I--” Lazarus began, but he paused as the smoke began to clear, and the dingy, ruddy light of the slum lamps caught Elizabeth’s armour. For all the mud and ash and whatever else he scarcely dared to think about, she glittered like silver. “I... don’t suppose I can,” he said. “Would you like to dance, Miss Stopper?”

Elizabeth only laughed. “Why Mr. Eut,” she said, taking his hand. “How charmingly forward of you.”

[thewholekeg]

Did some more costume designs, this time for the secondary protagonist of Cat-Beller, Lazarus Eut (pronounced ‘yoot’).

Lazarus is the reluctant head of the once-notable Eut family after his parents died when he was young. He’s also a highly-renowned Scryptwright, the world’s equivalent of Wizards. Scryptwrighting involves engraving a series of runes into often very strong materials in order to enchant them, and seemingly small mistakes in the scrypt can have catastrophic consequences, so it’s a lot less ‘flowing robes’ and a lot more ‘heavy leather and blast shields’.

[thewholekeg]

“There,” Elizabeth said as the wagon rolled around the last bend. The hills evened out for a stretch just visible from the road, more than enough room to set up comfortably. The gentle babble of a river drifted lazily over the hills just beyond. “Let’s stop here for the night,” she said. “I think we’ve both had our fill of travel for one day.”

Lazarus held his spectacles to keep them steady against the bumps in the road. “Are you sure?” he asked. “Is it safe?”

“Perfectly,” Elizabeth said. “We're still a mile short of the gap. In fact, it’s probably safer--we might be able to make it into Brittilberg territory before dark, but we’d only just be inside. I have no doubt that more than a few travelers have opted to spend a few hours of daylight here rather than chance it.”

Sure enough, the clearing showed signs of previous tenants. Broken wild grass matted the clearing, and clear wheel treads had marked the earth, if long enough ago that the turf had regrown.

The pulled to a stop, and Lazarus quickly, if clumsily, stepped down. He tottered for a moment, looking as though he had only heard of legs in theory. “What first?” he asked. “Let me see... I think my father always used to begin with looking for a good burrow spot?”

Elizabeth smiled, swinging down smoothly after him. “A man of admirable priorities,” she said. “I see where you get your good sense. Except,” she slapped the side of the wagon. “We live in more civilized times,” she said. “Times with roofs over our heads.”

“Ah,” Lazarus said, staring up at the wagon. He laughed, and took off his spectacles. “Yes, of course,” he chuckled as he fished a rag out of his pocket and began to clean the glass. “Dinner first, then?”

“A fine idea,” Elizabeth said. “But if it’s all the same to you, I think a bath first would suit me. I have enough dust in my hair to build us a burrow.”

Lazarus laughed as put his spectacles back on. “Of course,” he said. “I’ll get started. If I don’t have something ready for you by the time you’ve finished, then I’ll at least have a fine smell to whet the appetite.”

“Be careful, I may hold you to that,” Elizabeth said. “I won’t be gone long. No peeking, now!”

“Clever Dark spirit me away!” Lazarus vowed as he clambered back up into the wagon.

Elizabeth chuckled. She walked quickly over the crest of the hill, unbuttoning her dress, but found her pace slowing. She paused for a moment, in fact. Fat clouds drifted lazily on the surface of the river, barely stirred by the faintest hint of a breeze. There was still plenty of day left, really. No rush at all.

She took a few long, slow steps back, not bothering to rebutton. “You know,” she spoke up over the clatter of pots and pans coming from inside the wagon. “A ‘peek’ is a funny thing. It probably wouldn’t count as one if you were, say, to see the whole ordeal.”

Then she continued her journey down to the river, smiling to herself as the clatter quickly changed to one of setting the pots neatly away, as quickly as possible.

[thewholekeg]

The night was loud.

Noise had never bothered Lazarus. The boarding school that had been his boyhood home was a drunken sailor’s tumble away from the docks, as he had learned more than once. Nights had been a chorus of shifting ships, hollering captains and drunken brawling. To say nothing of what the boys had gotten up to while the schoolmasters slept. Even when he was grown, sleeping in the depths of his family mansion, the noise of the streets below had reached him. Silence in Willowvalley was a myth.

The noise didn’t bother Lazarus. What was strange to him was that there was noise at all. 

In his memories the forest had been silent. It had been still, as though the whole world was holding its breath beneath the keen eye of a predator. In his memories he could believe in the guiding hands of the darkness, gently hushing the night.

Now, though, the night was full of sounds. Insects were all around them, buzzing and chirping from behind every bush and flower. Somewhere in the distance the undergrowth sighed as some great, unseen beast passed through. The very forest itself seemed to groan as the wind laughed and played its way through the branches high above.

In the bunk above Lazarus Elizabeth shifted, adding the creak of wood to the sounds. “Can’t sleep?” she whispered.

Lazarus brushed his whiskers, only a little surprised. “How did you know?” he asked, just as softly.

He saw Elizabeth’s silhouette slide into view above him. He couldn’t make out any details through the darkness and without his glasses, but somehow he could still see that playful smile of hers. “Your breath,” she said. She spoke normally, apparently feeling there was no point in being quiet if they were both already awake. “Mice breath much more steadily when they’re asleep. I’ve gotten used to listening for less steady sounds.”

“I didn’t wake you, did I?” Lazarus asked.

Elizabeth shrugged. “I could have gone back to sleep easily enough,” she said. “You pick up the skill, travelling. I wanted to make sure you were alright.” Her posture shifted to one less casual. “Does it bother you?” she asked. “After what happened?”

Lazarus thought about it for a long moment. “I thought it might,” he said. “But now that I’m here…” He smiled. He hoped Elizabeth could make it out through the darkness. “It was a long time ago. When I think of my parents, I can just think of how much they loved the forest.”

He hesitated for a moment as he stared up into Elizabeth’s silhouette. His eyes were adjusting, as much as they ever could, and he thought he could just make out the blue of her eyes. “Thank you,” he said.

Elizabeth chuckled. “Me?” she asked. “What do I have to do with it?”

“Well, it is easier to be at ease knowing I have a fine and capable cat-beller to protect me,” Lazarus said.

“Flatterer,” Elizabeth accused him.

“Hardly,” Lazarus replied. “But I meant… for your work. Knowing what you do, what all of the cat-bellers do… it helped. When I was a boy.”

It was difficult to tell, but he thought Elizabeth’s smile faded. “I’ve seen so many children like you,” she said. “They don’t often feel the same way.”

“It’s hard to thank someone who you think has come too late,” Lazarus said softly. He was quiet for a moment. “But even if someone had come on time, it… It was the helplessness that killed me. Knowing that even if I ran out, even if I tried, I would just be one more body to recover.”

By now his eyes had adjusted fully, and he could just make out Elizabeth’s expression. It was somber, but it lightened when her eyes met his. Lazarus offered her another smile. “But we aren’t helpless. The work the cat-bellers do gives us all a chance. It gives us control. That was what helped. Knowing that there was something someone could do--was doing--so it wouldn’t have to happen again.”

Elizabeth returned his smile, and chuckled softly. “I suppose when you put it like that it’s hard to turn down the compliment,” she said. “Even if it hardly seems appropriate. You’re every bit as much responsible for that control as any cat-beller.”

“I suppose,” Lazarus laughed. He let his head fall back onto the mattress. “It’s not quite as impressive, though.”

“Impressive is a fine thing for parades, but I’ll take practical any day,” Elizabeth said. “But your work isn’t so unimpressive as you might think.”

Lazarus chuckled and shook his head. “I stand on the shoulders of giants,” he said.

“And touch the stars, Lazarus,” Elizabeth said, with a firmness that shocked Lazarus. “Nothing the cat-bellers do would be possible without your work.”

Lazarus faltered, trapped for a moment in the sudden passion in her eyes. “I--may have made improvements, but the core Scrypt of the bells and pillars has run for centuries. And other mice, in other city-states have made their own innovations.”

“None of which stops them talking about your work as far away as Redhill,” Elizabeth said.

“”I,” Lazarus said. “They… they do? Redhill’s university is--”

But Elizabeth wasn’t finished. “And what makes you think that only your bells are noteworthy?” she asked. “Do you think so little of what you’ve done for shields and armour?”

Lazarus, still half-caught in the wonder of being known in Redhill, blinked. “I’ve never done anything for shields and armour,” he said.

“You have done everything for shields and armour,” Elizabeth said. “And a hammers, and tools--Name Theory, Lazarus!”

“Oh,” Lazarus said. He hesitated. Much as he would hate to admit it, his heart did swell when he thought of the theory he had worked so long to perfect, and to demonstrate before Willowvalley’s University Council. “But those are just--they’re improvements, perhaps, but only to scrypt that already exists. I can hardly take that much credit--”

Elizabeth fixed him with a hard, long stare. She swung herself out of her bunk, landing beside Lazarus’ head and beginning to undo her nightgown.

She moved so smoothly and landed so silently it took a moment for Lazarus to realize what she was doing. He started violently, jumping upright and smashing his head against the bunk above him. He bit back a swear, clutching his throbbing head, and said, “M-Miss Stopper! What are you--”

“I am proving to you exactly what you have done,” Elizabeth said curtly as she hiked up the hem, “since you seem so unwilling to believe me.”

Lazarus looked sharply away before the nightgown came off, staring very pointedly at the wall. He jumped again when he felt Elizabeth touch his wrist. “Miss Stopper--”

“Hush,” Elizabeth said, pulling his hand towards her.

Lazarus tensed, but gave way to her gentle, persistent strength. He shivered as his fingertips brushed over soft fur and warm flesh. And smooth, hard, bare skin. 

A chill ran up his fingers. Slowly, he turned to look at the long, pale scar running over Elizabeth’s side.

It was strangely clean, almost surgical. The milky white skin cut sharply to a full, sleek coat with a healthy pink underneath. “It was a cat,” Elizabeth said. “Three years ago, near Redhill.”

Her voice was subdued. Lazarus managed to pull his eyes away from the scar to look at her. Her expression was resigned--not pained, he realized, but almost embarrassed.

“She caught me between Redhill and the last road pillar,” Elizabeth said, shaking her head “Barely a kilometer stretch, and still an hour before true nightfall. I was still stupid to chance it. It was barely out of mating season, and it had been a hard winter. I--”

She cut herself off with a shake of her head. “I barely had time to get my shield and hammer before she was on me,” she said. “I didn’t even bother trying to fight, just fend her off long enough to make a run for it. I was going to Redhill to resupply--I was exhausted, half-starved, and barely armed. My shield was five years old.”

“Five?” Lazarus said incredulously. “Steel? Three, four if you’re conservative, but--”

“It was the shield they gave me when I left the Belltower,” Elizabeth said. “I was nostalgic.” She smiled wryly. “I still have it… albeit for a different reason.”

She held up her arm, pantomiming raising the shield. “She cut clean through--easy as paper.” She drew a line from her arm inward, tracing the path of the cat’s claw. “Until…”

She touched the scar. “It didn’t anymore.

“A whisker more and I would have been tripping over my breakfast,” Elizabeth said. “That’s what the doctors told me when I finally made it to Redhill. Even then, Blood loss almost finished the job anyways. But it didn’t. All because a shield lasted just a little bit longer than anyone expected.”

She held Lazarus’s hand more firmly, tapping his knuckles as she said, “All because someone else had the clever idea to give it a name.”

“Because…” Lazarus said. “Eight years… that must have been my first paper on Name Theory.” He looked up into Elizabeth’s smile--but then, slowly, his eyes drifted back down. Back down to the scar. “My first--mercy, there were so many things I got wrong the first time, I was so excited just to have it out, I--”

“Lazarus,” Elizabeth said firmly. “This isn’t because of you.” She pulled his hand up and placed it over her heart. “This is because of you. I say without a trace of exaggeration, Lazarus Eut, that your work is the reason I am alive today.”

Lazarus started and looked up again, and this time Elizabeth kept his attention. Even in the dark, even without his glasses, he could see the light in her eyes as clear as the first star. “I-I,” Lazarus said softly. “I suppose… that’s more than enough reason for any man to feel proud, then.”

Elizabeth smiled. “I certainly think so,” she said. “Humility is for the humble, Lazarus. You are a brilliant man. The forest is safer for having you in it.”

Lazarus opened and closed his mouth several times, but found he had nothing to say. So he just returned Elizabeth’s smile, and gently brushed his thumb over her fingers.

And then, all at once, he remembered Elizabeth was still in her underwear.

“Ah,” he said, pulling his hand sharply off her chest. “I’m sorry, Miss Stopper. I appreciate the vote of confidence, but it’s still hardly proper of me--”

Elizabeth caught the edge of his sleeve. Her smile had warmed, and turned all-too-knowing. “We are in the forest, Mr. Eut,” she said. Her voice was soft, and low. “One law of the forest you learn all too quickly is that ‘propriety’ is whatever you decide it to be.”

Lazarus held her gaze for a long, quiet moment, then looked down at her hand. Her grip was loose. Just firm enough to catch his attention, but not enough to hold him if he pulled away.

He didn’t pull away. Instead he reached down slowly and took her hand, like a clumsy man taking a glass figurine. He turned it gently, running his thumb across each of her fingers in turn. He felt the power in them, and the deft grace. He lifted it and kissed her fingers.

Elizabeth smiled. She leaned in and cupped Lazarus’ cheek, running her fingers through his fur, and said, “I understand.” She held his gaze for a moment longer. And then, as if just for good measure, she winked.

Lazarus laughed and touched Elizabeth’s hand. “Thank you, Miss Stopper,” he said.

“And thank you, Mr. Eut,” Elizabeth replied. She stood back up and gathered her nightgown from the edge of his bed. “Sleep well.”

“Sleep well,” Lazarus replied. He settled back down as Elizabeth climbed back into her bunk, and let his eyes drift closed with a smile on his face.

The night was loud. But with the quiet, easy breathing of Elizabeth nearby, the noise seemed all the more distant.