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yarti

On Which We Stand - Lette

Dec 15th, 2018
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  1. His mustache brushed across my cheek. Bristles, clinging and poking, calling me to attention. My eyes opened to his otherwise smooth face. His crusty pink paint catching just enough light to be visible across his tanned hide. Behind him, a sheer black abyss. The room consumed by shadow. The light of the firepit beamed across my face, illuminating little else. My lips parted, teeth showing ever so slightly as a wide smile crept across my stern face. “Did you fall asleep?” his gruff voice chimed in. It echoed oddly through the room though I gave it not a second thought. It soothed these tired bones to their core. His every breath pressed his chest against mine, and my own back against his. His arm around my side gave a subtle squeeze as he spoke. My answer, a contented mumble, the shutting of eyes, the nestle of my cheek against his. I then became hyper-aware. In but a moment, something changed around us. My skin crawled, hair standing on end. I opened my eyes again, his expression had changed. A look of some shock at my sudden departure. Behind him, three burning dots, just off in the corner of the room. I stumbled backwards, mouth coming agape. I tried to speak but not a word would form. I stuttered, alarming him further. He turned, peering into that dark corner. He could not see it, but it was there. As clear as day, as clear as a moon on a darker night. Larger now, like signal fires on a distance hill they blazed. He spoke, a degree of worry in his voice. It echoed again, the air vibrated to his tune. Something was wrong.
  2.  
  3. “What is the matter?”
  4.  
  5. I could not answer. Shakily I stood, frozen before him as the apparition drew ever nearer. Directly behind him now, I could see slightest silhouette behind flames. A man, with three eyes. Not him, not again. This was a dream. No, a nightmare. My shaking hands, I could see. The wrinkles of stress of my latter years, gone. I was young, this was wrong. My dear looked at me. A sudden sadness across his visage. His flesh churned, his cheeks puckering. A gash flashed across his right cheek. He recoiled. Tears raced down my face at the sight of him. Another, across his right cheek and nose. His face a grimace now. Ages passed by his skin, leaving their own marks. His eyes took less notice of me, staring forward. Blankly. I tried to speak again but to no avail. The figure had engulfed him by this point. His transformation ended, leaving him as a pitiful weary old man. At once he turned, his hands glowing brighter than those fires. Violet tendrils arching across the room. His voice soared, a high pitched squeal in a voice unlike his own. Bolts flew into the figure and with that, they both disappeared. The room shook around me as I turned, racing to the door. I threw it open to a blinding flash. I awoke then and there, once again in my bed. Drenched in sweat, the room, hot and humid. I lay there for an hour or so, trying to make sense of yet another vision. It was comforting in a way. The thought that something out there somewhere had saw it fit to gift me with these confirmations, as frightening as they may be. Confirmations by night that I had done the right thing, or at least that there would be some resolution at the end of this day. Everything had lead to this moment, in this town, in this bed on which I lay. It was a miraculous thing and I knew little what to think of it. I told myself perhaps it was Azura, but who can say. The nightmares of that man had plagued me for many years, I still knew not who he was or what relation he had to my situation or to Sanbosm, but perhaps it would all be revealed by the end of this day. I threw the sheets from my bones and tugged on a pair of pants, making my way across the dimly lit room, intent to get some fresh air and collect myself. The sound of the lively town filled my ears. Still hyper-aware, the sweat drops from my drenched form pinged the door frame at my feet, every droplet louder than the lightning and thunder that had filled that dream room moments ago. My vision but a blur, I squinted out into the world stumbling through the doorway. Sunset from the look of things, a distinct pink tinge hung about the horizon. An ear piercing buzzing sound overwhelmed my already reeling senses. My breath heavy, I looked down at myself, my bare hands and arms crossed with the troubles of my times. The metaphorical blood of this journey lay thick on them. It came crushing down on me yet again. With a sigh I lifted my head skyward, just in time to catch the source of the buzzing. I watched a mounted wasp descend in some far off part of the town. A crowd of some sort had formed at it’s destination, an important visitor perhaps. It was of little importance to me. The buzz grew quieter by the second, an ease to my ears. I then took note of a family crossing the street. A Nord man, tall, strong armed. Below him, two Dunmer children. The little girl frolicked just ahead of them, leading the parade. The boy clung to his mother’s dress, occasionally looking back at the docks. The mother, one arm flung around her partner’s waist, walked elegantly in the middle of the four. I could hear them talking, a happy family. That should have been me. It could have been me. I brought hand to my face to wipe away another round of tears. The merry parade had turned and were on course to walk past my rented hovel. As they stepped closer, the mother made eye contact with me. Her face changed, evident even from this distance. Surprise, no, shock. She stopped in her tracks, clutching at her partner’s waist. Her free hand began to glow, shock becoming anger. From across the way she screamed.
  6.  
  7. “NO, not here!”
  8.  
  9. Hands still aglow, she lowered herself, clutching at her children, drawing them close to her. The man watched her with some awe but made no attempt to stop her, as though her outburst were some common occurrence. She looked up at him, explaining herself I imagined. I had no qualm with her, I turned to return to my bed. Hoping for yet another attempt at rest before continuing my investigation the next morning.
  10.  
  11. “Why are you here, mother?”
  12.  
  13. Her voice crept into my ears, tangling amidst my own thoughts. I knew that voice. It all fell together in one moment. Though my eyes fail me, hers, unladen by age had no trouble recognizing my face from this distance. Feeling faint, I wheeled around to face her again. The man stepped forward, waving his arms, coming between us.
  14.  
  15. “Now, now. There’s no need for that, I’m sure it’s not like that.”
  16.  
  17. “Lette?”
  18.  
  19. He questioned from across the path. It had been many months since I had heard my own name. Longer still spoken by a Nord. I stumbled down from the doorway, a slow hobble. Bare feet on damp soil. My feet sunk up in it, the muck going all about my toes in the process. Making my way to them, the sight of my tears seemed settle her wrath. The glow about her hands dissipated.
  20.  
  21. “Child”, I croaked. Arms outstretched to meet her. With some hesitation, she rose and stepped forward. The children darted around her back, heads peeking up at me from behind her dress. The man lowered his arms, allowing me to pass. She stared deeply into my eyes as I made my final approach. There would be so much to discuss, the things that should have been said, the things that have came and the things yet to come. In a now distant part of my mind, I still clung to the notion that this was not the end of this day. There would be yet another reward before it’s conclusion. It was all leading to this moment, in this town, the ground on which we stand. The next step. The unending cascade of emotions was overwhelming.
  22.  
  23. “Why are you crying?”
  24.  
  25. Her voice now quiet, nearly a whisper. A single tear emerged from her left eye and began it’s descent as I collapsed against her chest, arms racing to embrace her. We lingered for minutes, possibly longer. Memories flowed, I relived our entire time together in but a moment. Her birth, the distance, coping with bloody work, her rebellious side and how she came to disappear. There were oh so few moments between us, few words even. No closeness of any kind. I was no mother to her. I thought it too late but here we are. It dawned on me that we had never even shared an embrace. Not in all of her years. This was the first. What could I say? Nothing could do the moment justice, so I said nothing. We would have more than enough to say in the coming days.
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